Ch-ch-changes

When I opened my eyes this morning I could tell things were never going to be the same again. Don’t ask me how I knew, it was just there in my head: consciousness. I even had a name for it.

There were other more obvious signs, of course. Instead of the eight legs that propelled me so competently across my web yesterday, there were four new limbs. One pair, just below my head, felt a little awkward, but I was starting to get the hang of them already, and I could tell that the little pink things at the ends were going to be useful. The other pair were screwed up under me, and it was hard to tell what use they might be.

The hardest part, though, was the battle in my head. I was still, to some degree, an instinctive being. But now, all those instincts were tempered by an internal debate. Hunger for example. Yesterday I would have checked the web, and if there was a juicy fly, I would have eaten. If not, I would have taken it easy and waited for the next unsuspecting bluebottle. Today I woke with a slight acidic pang in my stomach; I took it to be hunger. But then this debate in my head started. Fried breakfast? Very tasty - and would sustain me through a day of hard physical labour. But it may be a gentle day and a bowl of muesli and an apple might be a healthier option. I seemed to know so much. Too much! It made it hard to function.

Anyway, it was time to stop moaning and get on. To ‘Get a life’ - whatever that meant. I clambered out of the cupboard next to the cooker. My upper limbs were starting to work quite well and I was already making use of my fingers to grip, and support myself. Just as well, as my lower limbs were not so good; they felt like they didn’t belong. I put this down to poor circulation from sitting on them too long.

I better explain about the change in scale. Now, I was bigger, considerably bigger. Yesterday, it took me twenty minutes to climb the kitchen wall. Today, once I managed to balance on my legs and stretch upwards, I was already two thirds of the way there. So – scale - it’s important. You try swimming in porridge. I know. I’ve done it.

I kept breakfast simple. I was managing quite well - it was almost fun - and those opposing thumbs - they really made cutting bread a doddle. But, as I poured coffee from the espresso machine, self loathing washed over me. Only hours ago, gorging on a disgusting fly that I’d wrapped in my tacky web and paralysed would have been normal. Now, the thought of it made me feel really unclean.

Just as I was getting really despondent something else popped into my consciousness: a strange, haunting sensation - a vocalisation; a voice that rose and fell, not as in speech, but as in… Again, just as I needed it, the word came to me. Music. I thought it was in my head, but as I concentrated I realised it was coming from the box on the table. And, as I heard more, I could understand more. The words were so poignant. He was like a musical gymnast; vulnerable yet agile and self assured. Turn and face the strange, ch-ch-changes, he sang.