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It didn't matter where she was going; it only mattered that she was gone for good this time. Abandoning the passion that you had spent the past two decades of your life on wasn't easy. With a heavy heart, Florence unplugged everything—the monitors, microscopes, and everything else. She knew she couldn't leave a trace unless she wanted the government hot on her tracks. Multiple times, she had relocated in an effort to finish her masterpiece before anybody suspected anything, and every single time, somebody had to go snooping. Whether they were urban exploring clout chasers, conspiracy theorists, or just annoying teenagers, somehow, agents ended up on Florence's doorstep. In the darkness of the lab, she stared at what could've been. It's a shame... she was really on to something this time. Nevertheless, Florence wasn't surprised. Bio-engineering herself into a god to rule humanity isn't exactly a sanctioned scientific practice...
Florence took what little she had packed and stuffed it in the trunk of her car. She took extra care of a mason jar with what looked like a fluffy white cloud trapped in it. She got in the driver's seat, fastened her seatbelt, and turned on some tunes. Then she was off. She passed dilapidated buildings with different religious symbols and sayings painted on them. Eventually, she came upon a sign that read "Leaving Roswell." In hindsight, maybe the extraterrestrial capital of America wasn't the best place to relocate. Whatever. It was too late now. Besides, she already had another project in mind. After all, she couldn't quit now. Not when the world needed her most, right?
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Some days later, Florence arrived at her destination, Del Norte County, California. She had connections there—an old college friend, Scottie, as she was affectionately called. She figured she'd crash at her place until she could find a place of her own. There was a sign out front saying "No Solicitation," clearly to stop the hordes of door knockers nowadays. In fact, Florence had lost count of how many she had seen on the drive there. Florence knocked on the door, and immediately she heard a cacophony of barking from the other side. The door opened to a stout lady with a round face and baby pink glasses. She was cradling a Scottish terrier in her arms as if it were her child. "Florence!" she exclaimed cheerily.
"Come in, come in! Don't mind the dogs, they're friendly!" Florence followed her in and quickly noted the small dogs running around. A couple came up to her and began to sniff her. They were all Scottish Terriers, though not a single one was the same color. "No husband yet?" Florence commented. "Men aren't my thing." Scottie chirped while putting down the cream-colored terrier she was holding. As to what Scottie meant, Florence had no clue, but she assumed it meant she was content with her tiny canine army. "The guest room is down that hallway. You can put your stuff down there." Florence nodded and turned down the hall. The room was mostly empty, just a bed with generic sheets and a comforter, a bedside table, and a desk with a stool. Yeah, this'll work just fine, Florence thought to herself.
Later that night, Florence was writing in her notebook. She was trying to figure out how to set her new project in motion. Most importantly, she needed bait. It was at that moment that she remembered the bubbly, innocent Scottie she was staying with. She was the perfect bait. Now all she needed to figure out was how to get Scottie out into the redwoods and how to capture her target, the forest spirit. The sample of the weather spirit she had captured in a mason jar wouldn't do the trick; Florence needed something from all of the spirits.
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Ever since Florence was a child, she's been acutely aware of the animals called humans. She was especially fascinated by religion, particularly how people could believe so concretely in something with no proof. Florence got the first-hand experience of religion crumbling when evidence of multiple gods that weren't invisible, all-knowing beings in the sky was first documented by Theodore Alvinson. She remembered the protests she was forced to participate in, calling the scientists and news stations heretics and saying they'd burn. She remembered the fear-mongering that the higher-ups would spread. Through all this, she couldn't help but wonder, "Is this really what religion was meant to do?" and "What ever happened to loving each other?" The only thing Florence was sure about was that humanity definitely needed a savior now. So she thought, "Why not make one out of myself?"
She had heard of cases of children being "gifted by the spirits." Specifically, babies born with gills as well as lungs, an acute sense of hearing etcetera. Rumors said that the spirit's bodies produced energy that was able to intertwine these gifts into the very fabric of human DNA. If Florence could get her hands on pieces of these spirits, maybe she could bestow the gifts upon herself.
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Florence lay awake in the night thinking about what could've been. She could've been so powerful, then nobody could boss her around anymore. She held up her arm and observed the spider web of scarring that covered most of it. Florence thought they made her look strong. What's that saying? "No pain, no gain." A sudden knock at the door interrupted Florence's rumination. Scottie opens the door, causing bright light from the hallway to pour into the dark room. "I don't mean to interrupt your edgy brooding, but I made you some soup." She held a steaming bowl in her hand. Florence got up silently and padded over to Scottie. "Thank you." She spoke curtly. "My pleasure!" Scottie grinned, further defining her round cheeks, before exiting and closing the door. Scottie was probably the sweetest golden retriever on the planet. Florence could admit that. Though she merely saw her as a pawn, as she did everyone.
The next morning, Florence walked out into the living room to see Scottie filling seven colorful bowls with kibble. "So, what's with all the dogs?" Florence questioned. Scottie shrugged, "I rescued a couple of them years ago and decided to keep the puppies." "Rescued? Like from a shelter?" Florence cocked her head to the side slightly. Scottie shook her head, "Some wackos were trying to put the poor things down because they thought Armageddon was coming." "Tch, Nutjobs..." Florence muttered. "If Armageddon were to come, I think it would have already passed." She remembered the number of abandoned, run-down, or completely desecrated buildings on her drive. Scottie snickered, "Yeah, I guess those fanatics should really take a philosophy class, huh?" "That's what you majored in, isn't it?" Florence commented. Scottie smiled, "You remembered!" She pointed out. "How could I not with you always interrogating me back then on how I was sure I was alive or whatever nonsense you heard in a lecture?" Florence nudged Scottie playfully. "Yeah, well, how do you really know?" Scottie questioned. Florence paused for a moment before quoting. "Cogito Ergo Sum. I think, therefore I am."
Silence fell for a bit after that, until Florence spoke up. "Hey, Scottie." Scottie perked up. "Yeah?" Her lips curved into a small smile. "How would you feel about a friendly trip to the redwoods?" Florence smirked, though Scottie hadn't the slightest clue of her ulterior motives. "Sounds fun!" Scottie squealed excitedly.
"Florence! Are you coming or not!?" Scottie's voice called out from the front door. Florence stuffed the supplies she had brought from the lab in a bag and finally put a lighter in her pocket. "I'm coming, I'm coming." She turned the corridor into the living room. "I thought we weren't going hiking?" Scottie said, puzzled at the backpack. "Extra precaution," Florence shrugged. "Well, we'd better get a move on. Time's arrow neither stands still nor reverses!" Scottie quoted a show that was on back in the 2020's. Peculiar, Florence thought she wasn't the demographic for a show like that. Last she checked, a realistic and grounded show like that wasn't for delusionally optimistic and naive folks.
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"Whoa! Those trees are huge!" Scottie stared in awe at the redwoods as she stepped out of the car. "We should get a closer look. I know a spot with the biggest trees. I was here as a kid." Florence nodded further into the forest, past the designated clearing. Florence spoke, wide-eyed and unsure. "Erm- Are you sure it's allowed—" "Trust me, I did it as a kid," Florence reassured, though, of course, her words were hollow. The pair headed deeper into the woods, Florence managing to slip behind Scottie. A little while later, Scottie paused. "Florence, are you sure we're going the right way?" She asked nervously for the umpteenth time. This time, something was up. "Florence?" Scottie looked around worriedly. Florence was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, Scottie heard something, a lighter. Then, Kaboom...Everything was dark.
Florence watched the small-scale explosion she had caused. The forest spirit should sense the danger and come running. Sure enough, a while later, a small thing made of wood with a leaf cut to look like a face emerged. Florence readied a small dagger. She didn't plan to kill it; all she needed was part of it. When the small spirit was distracted enough by the injured Scottie, Florence pounced. She grinned wildly; she had won—or so she thought. Something caught her ankle—a vine that seemed to come out of nowhere. By her momentum, she was slammed to the ground, losing consciousness.
Her ears rang as Florence woke up. Everything was spinning, and she couldn't tell up from down. Painfully, she sat up and noticed a huge charred spot that even reached some of the trees. Scottie was absent, but that wasn't what she cared about. Florence cursed under her breath. She guessed it was time to relocate again. There was no way she was returning to Scottie. Whatever, maybe she'd have better over in Florida, with the water spirit.
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A week later, Florence knocked on the door to a beachside condo. Under her overgrown, dark hair, she was sweating from the sweltering heat. Trench coats weren't exactly beachwear, though Florence thought it would be more inconspicuous than having the paper-white scarring that trailed from shoulder to hand on full display. A lean, slightly muscular guy opened the door, leaning against the door frame as if he were the epitome of charisma. "Heyyy mama." He nods, smirking. "Hello Leonard," Florence said, deadpan and unimpressed. Leonard chuckles awkwardly, as if he were expecting a different response. "Ah- I go by Leo now, actually—" "Where can I put my stuff?" Florence took pity and cut him off before he could embarrass himself further. "Right—come in," Leonard said in a curt sigh.
"So...you said you were with Scottie...?" Leonard spoke in an unsure, nervous tone. Florence regretted not playing along, thinking Leonard was even more annoying now. "How is she?" Leonard asked. Florence wanted to say, "In a hospital bed with some pretty nasty burns at least," but she held her tongue. "Perfectly content with her seven Scottish terriers, why?" Florence questioned. It had been around a decade since they had been in college, and longer since Scottie broke up with him. "Ah...Just curious..." Leonard nodded and bit his lip in disappointment that he had been replaced by some dogs.
After putting her stuff down in the spare bedroom, Florence noticed a small shelf with surfing trophies on it. Most were silver or bronze and said second or third place—some said "qualifier." However, one gold first-place trophy sat in the middle. "I see you're quite the surfer..." Florence remarked. "Oh yeah, I won first place three years ago in the Daytona surfing competition. I remember it like it was yesterday..." Leonard rambled on, and Florence was hardly listening. That was until he mentioned something. "...and get this, I even saw the water spirit. I think it must have blessed me or something."
Florence's gaze snapped over to him with almost inhuman speed. "You saw the water spirit?" "Uh-huh—multiple times in fact," Leonard said confidently with his hands on his hips. Florence gripped his shoulders and stared straight into his eyes. "Description—pictures—Now." Leonard's confident attitude was smoked out for the second time as he stumbled backwards. "Ok, ok!" Leonard excused himself to his room and came out a couple of minutes later with three photos. "My buddy does photography, and these are the best pictures he got." They all had a semi-blurry silhouette of the water spirit. Despite the quality, these pictures were huge. The only publicly available pictures were from deep-sea submersibles and barely made out a body shape. These photos revealed so much more. People had theorized that the water spirit could take the shape of any aquatic creature, and some kooks thought it was just a mermaid. In a way, the kooks were right. They just had to reverse it.
The first picture showed a defined silhouette of sleek and slender legs sticking up from the water—the kind of legs you'd see on a synchronized swimmer. The one trait that made this pair of legs non-human, though, was a pair of small fins. The second picture was almost mistakable for a regular fish head, but it was much too large and seemed to be oriented in a way impossible for most fish. It protruded from the water's surface elegantly. It looked like a position a ballerina could hold.
Leonard started to talk again. "I didn't believe it when I first saw it. I thought I had inhaled too much salt water, but it's hard to deny these photos." The third photo cemented it: a full-body, candid shot of the water spirit. The spindly legs were positioned in a precise fashion, leaping out from the water. They were topped by an almost cartoonish fish head with a dorsal fin sticking out. One more smaller detail could be made out—a big, bulging fish eye that stared beyond the camera and straight into one's soul. "Where were these taken?" Florence questioned. Leonard replied with three different beaches, including where they were now. Safe to say it looked like Florence was going to have to do a bit of roadtripping.
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After swapping her outfit for something that wouldn't make her perspire quite as much, Florence took off to the shoreline just outside the condo. The sun was setting at this point, and most of the religious protest groups that were out there earlier had left. They tended to cluster in places that had the most sightings of the spirits. There was one man left, however. He had a camera in his hands and was taking pictures of the sunset. "Do you happen to know Leonard?" Florence startled the guy. "Jeez, do you make it a point to scare people?" He muttered, annoyed. Florence hummed as she remarked. "Did you know people with guilty consciences are more inclined to jump at a sudden noise?" The man scoffed, "What's that supposed to mean?" "It means I may have found some photos of yours that the government would love to see." Florence teased. Immediately, the guy's eyes widened. "Who are you? Why do you know Leo?"
"Who are you?" Florence responded with another question. "I asked first." The man stated. "The name's Florence, I'm an old college friend of Leonard's." "Patel? Tch...what are you doing here?-" Florence cut him off. "Actually, it's your turn to answer my question? Who are you, and how do you know my last name?" She glared at him. "My name is Dylan. That's all you need to know." Florence seemed to ponder something for a second. "I wonder, do you mean Dylan as in Dylan Alvinson?" She grinned. Dylan tensed and gave a curt response. "...What do you want from me?"
"Well, considering your lineage and those photographs, you should be able to help me find what I'm looking for..." Florence remarked. "If you want me to help you find the spirits, the answer is no," Dylan stated before he started to walk away. "Wow, it'd be such a shame if some of those fanatics that hang out here knew who you were related to. They've been out for blood ever since he made that huge discovery, y'know." Florence smiled devilishly. Dylan looked back at her with a look of bewilderment. "Y- you wouldn't." Florence chuckled. "Don't test me, Alvinson."
The next day, Florence and Dylan hit the road together. "So, how do you know Leonard?" Florence made small talk as the pair was driving to Daytona. Dylan had said that it was the place where he saw the water spirit most often and recently. "He hired me off Craigslist to do photography, and we hit it off. He talked about you a lot and some other girl who dumped him. I think her name started with an S..." Dylan mumbled as he brooded. Florence hummed, and silence fell until Dylan spoke again. "Y'know, he goes by Leo, right?" He mentioned. Florence smiled mischievously. "Oh, I know. I just like to bother him." Florence continued before Dylan could object to her reasoning. "Can I ask you something?" She looked to the side at Dylan. Dylan grimaced as he spoke. "Will you accept a no?" Florence laughed, "Nope! How'd a perfect nepo baby opportunity like you end up on Craigslist?" "Before I answer, can I ask you a question first?" Dylan spoke coldly.
Florence thinks for a moment. "I'll bite!" Florence affirms. "What's your deal? How did you get those scars on your arms?" Florence drops her mask for a moment. "Well...You can't save humanity without getting your hands a little dirty...right?" Her tone had shifted dramatically to an ominous one. Dylan narrowed his eyes before he responded. "Well then, I guess it's my turn?" Florence waited for his answer with bated breath. Dylan glared at Florence as he spoke. "The truth is...I hate those who attempt to play God."
Florence fell silent—completely silent. She gripped the wheel of the car. This Punk. What is he planning to do? Sabotage me?! Florence's thoughts were like a cyclone whirling in her head until she realized something. Hold on. What does "playing God" have to do with old Theodore, huh? After all, Theodore Alvinson had merely discovered the spirits, right? Florence took a breath before seamlessly shifting back into her mask. Dylan was doing something on his phone when Florence looked over. "Hey, how's about a pit stop? I could use a slushy."
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Daytona Beach was practically swarming with protesters. "Well, we're here. How do you find reverse Ariel, huh?" Florence poked Dylan as she sipped her blood-red cherry slushy. "I don't know," Dylan stated plainly. Florence's eye twitched in annoyance for a brief moment. "What happened when it appeared at Leonard's surfing competition here?" Florence asked. "I assume you mean when he won first place. Well, the truth is Leo is a pretty mediocre surfer—" "Figures..." Florence snickered even though she was one to talk with her lackluster athletic ability. Dylan sighed exasperatedly. "Anyways, I don't think his win could be anything but the doing of the water spirit. You see, the waves were too wild that day to hold the competition. Leo managed to convince them to give him a chance, though. Almost immediately, he was overwhelmed by the waves, and it started looking like he wouldn't make it out. That's when the water spirit showed itself, and I guess graced Leo with the skills to tackle the waves and make it back to dry land unscathed." Florence's smile widened as she connected the story with the forest spirit back in Del Norte. Suddenly, Dylan was no longer a moody loner with valuable information. He was fish bait.
"Why don't you wait here, and I can see if I can convince the nuts to leave?" Florence didn't wait for a response and promptly trotted over to the group of protesters. She spotted a woman in the front of the crowd with a megaphone. She had heavy-handed makeup and bleached blonde hair that looked crispy. Even Florence, who didn't care whatsoever about her appearance, cringed slightly. When Florence moved closer, she was bombarded by a couple of members with flyers and brochures. The megaphone lady stopped yelling for a moment and stated, "You there! What do you want?" The woman looked Florence up and down and turned her nose up at her. Florence feigned an innocent smile. "I might have some valuable information concerning old Mr. Theodore Alvinson you might wanna hear." The megaphone woman narrowed her eyes, which already looked sunken in thanks to the massive amounts of eyeliner. Florence continued, "You see that dude over there?" She pointed to Dylan. "The brooding one with the long curly hair and camera."
Dylan was preoccupied with texting on his phone when he heard an uproar from the protesters. He looked up just in time to hear a woman yell into a megaphone. "Get him!" The protesters began to charge straight for him, albeit slowly, because most of them were middle-aged or older. Dylan looked around for Florence in a panic, and he spotted her a good distance away, grinning. Dylan cursed under his breath as he began to flee. Soon enough, the few fast ones of the protesters caught up to him, and two of them held his arms as he flailed.
"You have the wrong guy! I don't know what Florence told you, but she's a liar who manipulates for her own gain!" Dylan yelled. The megaphone lady then began to speak. "Yeah, well, you're close enough to him." The grips and Dylan's arms tightened, and he winced. "Your blood is not pure. It is full of lies. He made up the spirits to villainize us!" The woman yelled into the megaphone, making sure everybody could hear her. Florence watched from the sidelines, half eyeing the ocean. She watched as the woman raised the megaphone over her head as if to bring it down on Dylan. "Wait! Do you wanna know the truth? About my dad and the spirits?!" He exclaimed. The woman paused. "He- He didn't discover them. They were created by him! Sure, he did do it to get rid of all of you, but I'm not him, nor do I agree with his actions!"
A deafening silence filled the air. Florence's eyes widened when she heard the confession. Then, she began to smile manically. So it was possible to artificially create a God...This newfound discovery fueled her even more. Florence wouldn't stop at anything to become powerful and show everyone what's what. The confession stunned the woman with the megaphone, but it seemed to do the same to her. She raised it over her head again with a look of pure animosity. Then, something darted out of the water. Florence took note of it immediately. "I've got you now, you slimy fish." She muttered, pulling out her dagger. Before she could act, though, somebody slammed into her, tackling her to the ground and disarming her.
Florence made a noise in frustration as the wind was knocked out of her. She turned her head to see who it was, and for once, she was shocked. "Leonard? What are you doing here, Leonard? Let me go!" Florence struggled. "No can do. A little birdie told me about your game, and I can't let you continue it." Florence looked to the side and was even more dumbfounded. A woman in bandages and a familiar pair of baby-pink glasses stood on the beach. Florence had never thought of Scottie as a snitch. Even stranger, a small creature made of wood with vines sprouting from its back accompanied her.
Yelps from the protesters caught Florence's attention. The water spirit was maneuvering through the crowd gracefully and taking everybody down one by one with a series of precise kicks. Leonard was amazed and forgot all about pinning down the psycho with a God-complex beneath him. Florence managed to wiggle out and ran right toward the water spirit, who was standing over a keeled-over Dylan. Florence managed to grab onto its leg and claw at its scales. It let out a bubbly noise, and before Florence knew it, it was no longer land-bound. Eventually, Florence managed to claw off a scale, though it was too late. She was too far from land, and quickly she began to sink to her watery demise. The three watched everything from the shore as the sunset cast an orange glow over the scene. All three shared the same thought. Of course, Florence's passion, the thing etched into her very spirit from so young, would be her inevitable undoing.