Read Online Levels: The Host by Peter Emshwiller - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Peter Emshwiller
Tags: thriller, Science-Fiction, adventure, SF, Action, Sci-Fi, Technology, New York, cyberpunk, futuristic, post apocalyptic, Novel, Dystopian, Manhattan, near future, Class warfare, Bantam Books, The Host, Levels, Emshwiller, Wrong Man, skiffy, Stoney Emshwiller, Body Swapping, Bantam Spectra, Peter R. Emshwiller
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his high forehead. “And I love you, Mr. Caiper. And now it’s time for your first hosting.” She let her voice go to almost a whisper. “Don’t worry, Watly. They always find a mild one for first times.” She patted his cheek. “You’ll be fine.”
She turned to the hanging dinosaur and talked into its mouth. “Are you ready up there? Is the donor ready?”
Watly gave a start. Up there? It never occurred to him the donor was in the same building. It hadn’t crossed his mind. It made sense, of course: Wealthy donor goes to Alvedine Building on Second Level. Meanwhile the first five stories of what really is the very same building are on First Level. How convenient. He’d never really thought it out. At this moment right above Watly was his donor. Maybe directly above him. Maybe just a few feet away. Have a good vacation, big fella, Watly thought. And. .. make nice.
Watly didn’t hear any reply from the monster’s mouth, but the doctor nodded into it and released three ringlets from its side.
“We’re starting now, Watly. Here we go.” Watly got the joyful impression she wouldn’t have said that to just any host. He was special to her. She connected two of the loose cables and released another ringlet from its casing. It dangled freely. “I’m going for it now, Watly. Try to relax,” she said.
Relaxing wasn’t all that hard. The expression mild euphoric had been, perhaps, a touch understated. Watly felt a renewed tingling where his jawbone met his skull.
And then. .. then it started.
Watly Caiper felt the strangest sensation he’d ever felt in his life—horrifying and fascinating simultaneously. It was like some drug-induced distortion of perception. It began with the feeling of being removed—of being one step away. It was dreamlike, foggy. It felt to Watly as though he had pulled back from himself—as though he’d moved back from his usual place at his window to the outside world. His body seemed far away. Drifting off. He was smaller—shrunken down and receding into a corner within himself.
And then, while he receded as if down a long mental hallway, he sensed—he tasted —another coming in. From behind. A stranger coming in.
This mental hallway was confined—narrow and dark. The tingling sensation of another person neared and neared and neared and then brushed by him in the darkness. There was no feeling of it being another body, another full being. Not at all. It was a metallic taste, an antiseptic smell, an electrical feeling of another consciousness passing swiftly by. Nothing more came through. No sense of who , just the sense that it was an “ I .” A different “ I .”
Fear washed over Watly, and it seemed whatever euphoria had been there was now gone. He felt panic. He seemed to sink back farther down the corridor—farther and farther away from. .. life . Away from existence. And then this other being—this other person—was taking over. The other one was in charge. It was as if Watly had been pulled away and someone else had replaced him at the controls. All power was gone. He was impotent.
He wanted to at least comment . He wanted to say something—anything—but he couldn’t. He had the words but no place to put them. It was like some insane nightmare. He couldn’t even make himself twitch. He could see and hear clearly but it was more like seeing a monitor and hearing through a hollow tube. Echoey and astigmatic. Reality was at arm’s length. He felt lost.
Whoever was in charge flexed Watly’s right elbow slowly. To Watly, the sensation was almost familiar. It was similar to a trick he’d tried as a kid. Back then, he’d stood in a doorway with his arms straight down and pressed outward on the doorjamb with the backs of his hands. He pushed with all his might for a full two minutes. When he finally stopped and stepped out of the doorway, his arms spread upward like a bird’s wings. It was totally involuntary—something to do with muscle tension. It made
She turned to the hanging dinosaur and talked into its mouth. “Are you ready up there? Is the donor ready?”
Watly gave a start. Up there? It never occurred to him the donor was in the same building. It hadn’t crossed his mind. It made sense, of course: Wealthy donor goes to Alvedine Building on Second Level. Meanwhile the first five stories of what really is the very same building are on First Level. How convenient. He’d never really thought it out. At this moment right above Watly was his donor. Maybe directly above him. Maybe just a few feet away. Have a good vacation, big fella, Watly thought. And. .. make nice.
Watly didn’t hear any reply from the monster’s mouth, but the doctor nodded into it and released three ringlets from its side.
“We’re starting now, Watly. Here we go.” Watly got the joyful impression she wouldn’t have said that to just any host. He was special to her. She connected two of the loose cables and released another ringlet from its casing. It dangled freely. “I’m going for it now, Watly. Try to relax,” she said.
Relaxing wasn’t all that hard. The expression mild euphoric had been, perhaps, a touch understated. Watly felt a renewed tingling where his jawbone met his skull.
And then. .. then it started.
Watly Caiper felt the strangest sensation he’d ever felt in his life—horrifying and fascinating simultaneously. It was like some drug-induced distortion of perception. It began with the feeling of being removed—of being one step away. It was dreamlike, foggy. It felt to Watly as though he had pulled back from himself—as though he’d moved back from his usual place at his window to the outside world. His body seemed far away. Drifting off. He was smaller—shrunken down and receding into a corner within himself.
And then, while he receded as if down a long mental hallway, he sensed—he tasted —another coming in. From behind. A stranger coming in.
This mental hallway was confined—narrow and dark. The tingling sensation of another person neared and neared and neared and then brushed by him in the darkness. There was no feeling of it being another body, another full being. Not at all. It was a metallic taste, an antiseptic smell, an electrical feeling of another consciousness passing swiftly by. Nothing more came through. No sense of who , just the sense that it was an “ I .” A different “ I .”
Fear washed over Watly, and it seemed whatever euphoria had been there was now gone. He felt panic. He seemed to sink back farther down the corridor—farther and farther away from. .. life . Away from existence. And then this other being—this other person—was taking over. The other one was in charge. It was as if Watly had been pulled away and someone else had replaced him at the controls. All power was gone. He was impotent.
He wanted to at least comment . He wanted to say something—anything—but he couldn’t. He had the words but no place to put them. It was like some insane nightmare. He couldn’t even make himself twitch. He could see and hear clearly but it was more like seeing a monitor and hearing through a hollow tube. Echoey and astigmatic. Reality was at arm’s length. He felt lost.
Whoever was in charge flexed Watly’s right elbow slowly. To Watly, the sensation was almost familiar. It was similar to a trick he’d tried as a kid. Back then, he’d stood in a doorway with his arms straight down and pressed outward on the doorjamb with the backs of his hands. He pushed with all his might for a full two minutes. When he finally stopped and stepped out of the doorway, his arms spread upward like a bird’s wings. It was totally involuntary—something to do with muscle tension. It made
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