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I wonder… would the mythic heroes of ancient Greece or Rome or America have given their deaths to save their brethren? I met Whistler in the seaside village of Mezkor, on the western coast of the supercontinent.
There was nothing mysterious about why Deepspace Development Corporation had been so eager to send a survey team. Yet another reason I am a cynic: cynicism provides a convenient facade for cowardice to hide behind.
On the morning the trouble started, we were walking a familiar stretch of beach near the village: sand glistening like snow, sun shining down so hot and bright that the ocean sparkled like a molten mirror.
Synobians looked remarkably humanoid, considering the vagaries of evolution: two arms, two legs, bipedal gait. Riddles within riddles… or so it seemed, after the translator finished tying his meaning into knots. After a long day of misunderstanding Whistler in ways variously novel and familiar, I sought the only solace available on a remote survey mission: a fistful of aspirin and a bottle of synthetic scotch.
Dexter pulled the orb from my shaking hands, teeth gleaming inside a dark tangle of moustache and beard. I stowed the ghost stones in back of the skimmer - under Whistler's careful scrutiny - then steered us in the direction he pointed: over the forest, toward the cliffs that ran along the coast north of A Camp.
Hordes of insectile creatures poured from the mound, swarmed over Krysta's body in wriggling profusion. We dragged our macabre cargo through the forest despite the moonless night, our path lit by the eerie glow of luminescent fungi. I programmed the medibots as best I could to recognize the offending organs, then injected them into Whistler's neck. I passed my vigil leaning against the trunk of a mushroom fern, listening to a symphony of unseen creatures prowl the alien night.
I have since often pondered what life was like for Lazarus after the world moved on to other miracles. Dexter Conley emerged from the shadows beneath the cliffs, followed by a younger man: Paul Killian, the rookie supervisor Jenny Margolis had left in charge.
Dexter waded out into the tide, stomping and flailing and cursing in the area where Krysta's stone had disappeared.
A glistening island of silver flesh breached the sea behind him, rising up and up, like a mountain spawned by the titanic collision of undersea continents.
We've learned a great deal since Dexter - may he roast in Hell - pointed us in the right direction. Director Morgan Spurlock takes on McDonalda€™s in Super Size Me, a biting look at the hazards of fast food. Morgan Spurlock initially scoffed at the lawsuit filed against McDonalds by two obese school girls. Spurlock documented his month-long McDonalds binge in Super Size Me: A Film of Epic Portions. On top of that, Spurlock confronted incipient diabetes, achy knees, a limp libido, and intense cravings.
Spurlocka€™s goofy streak turned to gold when he created the webcast series I Bet You Will during the height of the dot-com craze. When that contract ended in 2002, Spurlock had some money in the bank and a hankering to direct a feature. Much in our culture works against healthy habits, and Spurlock has a litany of items he would have covered had Super Size Me been a super-long film: a€?Urban sprawl, how there are no sidewalks, and how this has continued to cut down on our physical activity,a€? he ticks down the list. Opening in theaters this month and on DVD by fall, Super Size Me might make a tiny dent in the obesity epidemic. For his part, Spurlock has shed most of the weight he gained with help from his girlfriend, Alexandra Jamieson. While a mouthwatering McVeggie may still be a long way off, it seems Spurlock will get his other wish. PATRICIA THOMSON writes about film and food a€“ two interests that dovetail in the documentary Super Size Me. DAILY NEWS New York News Politics Sports Entertainment Opinion Living Autos Search U.S. Girlfriend shot in Queens dies Thursday, June 7, 2007, 4:00 AM A A A facebook Tweet email Edmond Huertas A 26-year-old Queens woman paid with her life yesterday for breaking up with her boyfriend, police said. Four days after the spurned man shot her in the head, Joanne Camacho succumbed to her injuries at Wyckoff Heights Medical Center in Brooklyn, officials said.
Police released pictures of the spurned man and are asking for the public's help in finding him. COLD CASES & TRUE CRIME Justice Story: Dana Sue Gray A PECULIAR ITEM recently came up for sale on a website that caters to people who collect things created, owned, or even just touched by murderers. Justice Story: John du Pont The 1856 British Guiana one-cent magenta is a tiny octagonal red inch-wide stamp.
Tommy Gilbert Jr appeared bedraggled and downcast as he stood before a judge in his orange prison jumpsuit today to be indicted over the fatal shooting of his multimillionaire father.A The Princeton grad, with his hands cuffed behind his back, said nothing and nodded in response to the judge's questions during the short appearance at Manhattan Criminal Court during the last minutes of Friday afternoon's session. The views expressed in the contents above are those of our users and do not necessarily reflect the views of MailOnline. Terran history preaches again and again that the most courageous sacrifice a human being can make is to give his life for the lives of others.
The natives seemed to have no use for the interior, and that was exactly the part of the planet for which DDC Management lusted. The bloody thing still could not untangle the spaghetti of Synobian grammar; its lexicon remained limited and imprecise. Slick salamander skin buried beneath a carpet of symbiotic sproutlings that drew nutrients from dead epidermal cells in exchange for protecting their host from the relentless sun. We stood in silence, watching some of Whistler's fellow villagers frolic in the surf a few hundred meters from shore.
At first glance, it looked like the biggest pearl I had ever seen: twenty centimeters across, shimmering with nacreous luster.
I went straight to my berth and collapsed on the bunk, exhausted to the marrow, yet - as pathetic as it sounds - I was afraid to sleep.


Dexter fidgeted beside Jenny while three members of her team trained laser pistols on the Synobians. An area we had scrupulously avoided, since Whistler made it clear from the first days of contact that it contained hallowed ground. Dexter - and whoever had helped him sabotage the skimmer, a feat which bespoke a technical expertise far beyond his depth - would be waiting. I tried to analyze her condition with the medikit, but Synobian physiology did not lend itself to analysis with human medical tools. We brought her to a clearing with a large earthen mound near its center, at least two meters in diameter. I could barely see what lay beneath the mass of chitinous scavengers… and still, I saw too much. He probably meant what he said, but the substances used to erase memories were very unpredictable.
Its lower ring of eyes fixed on the tiny human floating beneath them as immense jaws parted, as saliva mixed with brine cascaded in a dozen waterfalls between rows of spiny teeth. He would not let Killian and me bundle him into the skimmer until we had finished what we came to do. I wonder, as I brood over this final entry in my mission log, if the Saviors immortalized by history are created by actions, or events, or both. The hottest ticket at the Sundance Film Festival and winner of its Best Director award, this feature is a funny, subversive, and convincing rebuttal to McDonaldsa€™ posture of innocence. The goateed East Villager a€“ a transplant from West Virginia a€“ has a quick sense of humor, a contagious laugh, and an appreciation for the fine practical joke.
When Spurlock visited Houston in Super Size Me, he found that the vast majority of McDonalds customers opted for Supersize portions (possibly one reason why Houston is the fattest city in America). A vegan chef, Jamieson endured Spurlocka€™s burger bonanza with rolled eyes and borderline tolerance, then put him on a nutritious detox diet immediately afterwards. In March, just six weeks after Super Size Mea€™s premiere, McDonalds announced that it will eliminate its Supersized fries and soft drinks by the yeara€™s end. Her film articles have appeared in the New York Daily News, Village Voice, Variety, and numerous magazines, while her features on food and wine have been published in Tastes of Italia, Pasta, Budget Living, and Gastronomica. It also attracted the notice of MTV, which hired Spurlock to turn the webcast into a 53-week television show. Philatelic experts say that when it is auctioned at Sothebya€™s in New York on June 17, this singular postal artifact is expected to fetch something around $20 million, the largest price ever paid for a stamp.
He appeared alongside Alex Spiro (left), a Harvard-educated criminal defense lawyer who has been hired to represent himA grand jury voted to indict him on Friday over the death of his father, Thomas Gilbert Sr, 70, boss of $200million Wainscott Capital Partners.The New York Medical Examiner's office confirmed to Daily Mail Online on Thursday that Gilbert Sr. Aside from one true continent and a smattering of volcanic islands, the sea covered everything, from fathomless trenches to the shallows above submerged continental plates that had drowned eons before the first Synobian drew breath.
Central mountain ranges concealed a geologic treasure trove: gold, silver, platinum, copper, juicy veins of high-grade ore. Several clung to the massive dorsal ridge of a trylvol: a whale-like creature with half a dozen eyes completely circling its swollen cranium, reminiscent of a beluga with an overactive pituitary. I can't figure out what I'm dealing with… ancestor worship, afterlife mythology, tribal gods, animism? Sits back there in civilization, with his giga-buck salary, designer drugs, designer women….
I saw no choice but to continue, relying on the cover of the forest and Whistler's home field advantage. Two glandular organs on either side of her neck were pumping large doses of an unfamiliar hormone into her system. I lurched into the protective embrace of the forest, following Whistler as quickly as my trembling legs could manage.
As we followed the thunderous call of the ocean, I saw the misery in Whistler's eyes and wondered whether I had saved him or condemned him to a fate more tragic than I could fathom. Below us, beach stretched to the north and south, undulating with the coastline like an albino serpent. I prayed silently with all my might that he would not find it, that at least Whistler might die with that small measure of consolation. He shrilled a song of victory and vengeance, a sound so giddy with emotion it made my skin crawl. Whistler lay stubbornly bleeding in the sand while we unworthy humans threw the rest of the ghost stones into the sea. Will trylvols someday gather - far beyond the sight of land - to sing their haunting tributes to the child who gave everything to protect their aggregated souls from damnation? But when the judge dismissed the case, stating in his ruling that no one had proven McDonalds food to be a€?unreasonably dangerousa€?, and a McDonalds spokesman appeared on the news smugly telling reporters that fast food could be part of a healthy diet, Spurlock could hardly believe his ears. Monitored by a cardiologist, gastroenterologist, and internal medicine doctor, he wanted to see whether heavy intake of burgers, fries, and shakes would put him on the fast track to obesity. An obese Ronald McDonald doll sits on his desk, and the filmmaker cracks himself up when recounting how he and a fellow producer used to hide food in each othera€™s office and leave it there until the putrefying odor gave its location away.
But on Thanksgiving day, Spurlock was lying on the couch, stuffed to the gills, and saw the news about the McDonalds lawsuit. A regular Big Mac, fries, and Coke has 1,200 calories a€“ almost half the calories a normal male needs daily. Spurlocka€™s vital signs are now back to normal, and he has lost all but the last four pounds.
We have to start with the kids, and the parents have to get involved,a€? Spurlock counsels. She divides her time between New York and Italy, where she prefers to eat anything from the Slow Food movement, Italya€™s response to McDonalds. It's not clear who is paying Spiro's fee.Gilbert Jr was being held without bail at Rikers Island while he awaits trial and is due back in court on February 5. He also ran the kitchen - easy duty, since the meals practically prepared themselves - and served as unofficial bartender.
How's he expect you to reason with a walking compost heap?" I felt my temper smoldering, fed by the scotch in my belly, but I was too exhausted to give Dexter a lecture on universal tolerance.
Me, it just seemed a little spooky, but Johnson in Precious Metals recycled his lunch after thirty seconds, tops.


Laser burns had stripped away sproutlings from her abdomen, leaving charred patches that seeped purplish fluid. I caught up with him near our encampment, relieved that we would soon be on our way, putting kilometers between ourselves and that wretched stretch of woods. The bones did not just glisten: they shone in the twilight as if they had been carved from mother-of-pearl. Waves thundered against the sand, foaming and bubbling as they slipped back into the cerulean embrace of the sea.
The trylvol writhed in surf too shallow to support its bulk, a great fleshy tanker run aground. A release of hormones triggers a pupal stage: the body dies while the skull seals around a brain that is undergoing drastic chemical and structural changes. The organs in his neck were the harbingers of change, secreting the hormone to initiate his glorious transfiguration.
He has warned the trylvols about us: what we have come for, and what we may take if we are not stopped. His headaches grow worse as the brain imprisoned in his skull presses out against the shell of an egg that will never hatch….
In medical terms, Spurlocka€™s fatty diet induced non-alcoholic steatohepatitis, which can lead to cirrhosis.
Blurry images paraded past my eyes: jagged cliffs, thundering seascapes, jungles bursting with flora I could not name. The bastards who pump us through i-space to make their fortunes owe us a lot more than a little scavenging on the side! I knelt beside Whistler and activated the translator, wondering if Dexter's glare would burn a hole in the back of my head.
When I asked Whistler, he indicated that they were vital to her welfare, and I knew with numb certainty that random tinkering on my part could only make matters worse. I could only follow Whistler with my eyes as he approached the naked skeleton of his brood sister. Blood oozed from the blackened stump like blueberry syrup to stain the sand a deep burgundy. Dexter swam farther from shore, dove, let out a whoop as he broke the surface with a shimmering oval in one hand. Trylvol digestive enzymes weaken the shell sufficiently for the metamorphosed brain to emerge, wend its way through the trylvol's sinus passages, and assume its rightful place. He knew I could not save the rest of his brood siblings without his help, so he had me destroy his only chance to join them. To burn off that inflated meal, says Spurlock, you would need to walk seven hours straight.
How all the kidsa€™ candy cereal are stacked right where kids can buy them, while all the healthy options are way up on the top shelf.a€? He shakes his head. Perhaps that explained Mystery Number One: villages ringed the coast of the supercontinent, but we had yet to locate one more than a hundred kilometers inland. An electric tingle traveled up my arms and down my spine, rising in intensity, pulsing like the beat of some invisible heart.
You may have more degrees than the average stellar core… but out here, you're still a grunt.
He pulled out one of the two orbs nestled within and stroked its surface with the reverence of a temple acolyte.
For just an instant, at the edge of the clearing, I paused to look back at our fallen comrade.
He took one step toward Dexter, stone held out like a child slaughtered to appease an evil god.
Many brains assemble in the massive cranial cavity of a single host: five trylvols hold the majority of clan Mezkor. Our fooda€™s nutritious,a€™ I thought, a€?Well, you guys are getting a little ahead of yourselvesa€™,a€? Spurlock recalls.
A thousand shattered memories fought to assemble a consciousness that belonged to someone else.
He wandered onto the beach with the reverent steps of a pilgrim who has finally reached the holy shrine. They will sell DDC those precious rights to the minerals locked beneath the skin of the supercontinent.
We were close now to whatever sacred place Whistler had been guiding us; I could hear the muffled roar of the ocean in the distance, could smell its briny tang.
He stared at the immense wake of the diving trylvol, and something collapsed inside him… something that had been waiting for one more little push. Ia€™m like, why is this happening?a€? He immediately adds, a€?Therea€™s definitely a twofold problem here.
As I flailed away in horror, one emotion dogged my escape after all the rest had evanesced into oblivion.
Patches of its bony surface - especially those in areas where no bone had any right to be - bore the unmistakable sheen of fresh growth.
Whistler gazed up at me with large, liquid eyes that would have looked haunted on any creature's face.
The ghost stone catapulted out over the churning foam and splashed into the surf at least ten meters from shore. But those rights will be contingent on an irrevocable ban against exploitation of the ocean. Finally I began to understand: he wanted me to remove the strange organs at the sides of his neck.



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