Visions of Iotan

1

It took some getting used to. The creature towered over her, its tentacle-like appendages floating in every direction like curious serpents. Six eyes glowed a dull orange while watching his daughter intently, and he couldn’t help but imagine it attacking her with its sharp teeth.

But he knew that was ignorance talking. The monster was nothing but a child itself, barely three years old—which translated to about six or seven in human years. It didn’t even have the big incisors its relatives sported. Its parent had come to trust him and his husband, enough to let its offspring play with his own. And that’s what they were doing. Playing.

Henrietta explained the basic tenants of soccer, which she had just begun learning herself. She rolled the ball to the creature—nicknamed Lammy after a much longer, unintelligible name—and it pushed the ball back to her with its forehead. Henri giggled loudly. He heard it from the front porch, where he watched with a sort of uneasy interest. In response, Lammy produced a dual sound: a series of clicks and purrs under a valiant attempt at English. He could understand the adults but not Lammy, who was still very much a student in the language. With that said, Henri had no problem conversing with it, and she did so with glee. She even mimicked the other sounds to get its attention.

His better half, Jack, maintained a much more open stance on the burgeoning friendship. “We have to get along with them,” he would say. “They came here looking for friends, and they’ve helped us so much.”

It was true, to an extent. The creatures—affectionally called “Monks” by reporters and bloggers—arrived ten years ago, before Henri was even born. They were capable of violence, and did so when attacked, but by and large, they were peaceful, kind, and helpful. They brought with them a new type of energy production that Cillian couldn’t even begin to understand. It eliminated the need for oil and natural gas, and was quickly installed in every car, home, and building. The couple owned two vehicles with the special batteries, and even he had to admit that he didn’t miss filling up the tank.

In addition to new power, the Monks insisted that they help with conservation of animals and natural resources, and their giant ships literally cleaned the air they occupied. Over all, the Monks were the miracle needed to help save the Earth from human destruction. Their intervention made it possible for Henri to enjoy the natural world for the rest of her life. For that, Cillian was eternally grateful.

So, now, Henri and Lammy were best friends. They met at the playground like any other kids might, and Jack struck up a conversation with Lammy’s parent Addy. The Monks produced children asexually. The fact that Lammy didn’t need a mother and father appealed to Henri, who had two dads. Lammy and Henri played at the park several weeks in a row before Addy felt comfortable leaving the child in Jack and Cillian’s care. This was the third such meeting, and it seemed to be going well.

After a few hours of play, Henri came running up to the house for lunch. Lammy was too big to fit in the door, so it waited outside. Jack offered up a sandwich and an apple for their daughter and a baggy of the special nutrient-rich pellets that the Monks ate. She took them and sprinted back outside to continue playing.

Cillian didn’t see what happened. He was too busy being lost in thought about the strangeness of the scene before him. He didn’t notice his daughter handing the apple over to Lammy, who, without question, ate it. If he hadnoticed, he would have tried to stop her. Because of what happened next.

Lammy began to cough. Its whole body shook like a wet dog, as though it could rid itself of the poison. Lammy heaved and struggled to breathe. Moments later, the Monk collapsed to the ground, whimpering. Cillian jumped off the porch and ran down to the kids. Henri began crying. “What’s wrong with Lammy?!”

The bag of pellets lay abandoned at the creature’s side. He noticed that while the sandwich looked untouched, the apple was gone. “Did you—did you feed Lammy your apple?”

She sniffed. “Uh-huh.”

“Henri, you know they can’t eat human food!” He picked up Lammy’s head. “Hey, I need you to throw up. Can you do that? Apples are bad for you. Can you hear me? Lammy!”

The Monk let out a sigh and closed its eyes. Its body went limp.

“No, no, no, no! Goddammit!”

“I just thought Lammy would like it,” said her tiny voice. “Is Lammy gonna be okay?”

But Cillian barely acknowledged her. “Go get Jack.”

She took off for the house and was soon out of sight. Cillian put his ear to the creature’s side in the hopes of hearing something, anything, that would give him the impression that it was still alive. He listened, but there was nothing.