How to Petrify Your Brother
How to Petrify Your Brother
by Elisabeth Leslie
Dear Mr. Campbell:
I really love your _Astounding_ magazines, with the fake dates on them. My Aunt Jemimah, whose real name is Jocelyn, but she looks like an old syrup bottle, and she really isn't my aunt, has a box of them in her attic, which is really spiff, and they smell cool, but they're kind of falling apart. I like the ones that are supposed to be 1948 the best, but I can tell they're fake because they have rockets and space suits and everyone knows that rockets and space suits were invented by NASA and David Bowie.
So I wanted to send you a story. You can put it in your 1961 magazines, whenever you write them. It's about "How to Petrify Your Brother." My name is Millie, but it's really Millennia, because of when I was born, but my brother, Thomas, says everybody knows I should be Millie Plus One because I was born in 2001, but I read a book that says he is wrong. He broke my finger when I told him, so he calls me Plus. He is ten years older than me.
The story is about a girl whose older brother hurt her and her mother and she turned him into stone. Just to write the story, I'll pretend it was me, but it really isn't. Really.
So when this girl . . . I mean... so the story starts like this.
I really hate my brother, but I love him and I don't want him to go to jail. I just want him to stop hurting Momma and me. I don't remember Daddy, but Momma always bites her lip when she talks about him. I used to have a little sister, but she's gone, and Daddy is in jail, and we don't talk about them any more. Why is it, Mr. Campbell, that I can't remember what my sister looked like? I don't want her to be gone, but she is. I know she was brown, like me, and small, and she smiled and cried a lot, but I can't remember her face.
Two years ago, when I was little, Momma took me to the zoo. We saw animals and birds and stuff. We missed the bus, and we were late getting home, but Thomas was already home from school, sitting on the steps. He was really mad that we weren't home, and when we got inside he yelled at Momma and pushed her against the wall and told her to make dinner. I got scared so I cried and he hit me, then Momma hit him and he hit Momma a lot until she fell down. I called the 911 and the people took her away with a siren, but she told the doctor she fell down the stairs. The hospital was all white inside. I tried to write about it then, but we have a cheap computer that says "UNRECOGNIZED VOICE INPUT" when you're crying or yelling or screaming, so you have to wait until later, and then it didn't matter as much, and, anyway, Thomas was home.
Aunt Jemimah takes care of me when Momma is at work and Thomas is at school, and she takes care of other girls, too, sometimes. That's where I met Melissa, who has pretty blonde hair and skin. Melissa wasn't very good at math or science or computers, so we worked on homework together until she got bored, then she watched video. During teambuilding month at school, Melissa and I worked on a science fair project together, where we got a bunch of fossils, which are petrified animals, and petrified wood, and we put together an animation sequence on the computer. Melissa has a pretty voice, and we made video of her showing the formation of metamorphic rocks. We won first place at the school, but only second at the district, so we didn't get to go to state. I decided to win next year, so I studied what made wood get petrified. It takes millions of years, which is much too long.
One day, when Aunt Jemimah had to go somewhere, she got Thomas to come over and watch Melissa and me while she went. Thomas brought his friend, Hector, who everybody knows sells drugs, but nobody talks about. Thomas really likes Melissa, and he told us he didn't know who was prettier, her or me. She said I was prettier, and I said she was prettier, but I hoped that I was, really. Hector said we could have a Beauty Contest to see. He and Thomas would be the judges. Melissa said it wouldn't be fair, because I am Thomas' sister, and he'd know. He said we could switch clothes, or even take them off, and Melissa liked that. Hector said that it still wouldn't be fair, because they could see the difference between our skin, so he would turn off the light. And we lay on the bed, holding hands, while they judged us both, and it hurt. Hector said he couldn't tell, and he'd have to find out
tomorrow, but he thought the one on the left was prettier, but we couldn't tell if he meant his left or ours, and we had to get d
Melissa got pregnant later, and I read in a book that she was fertilized. I guess I wasn't fertilized, and I was jealous that Melissa was having a baby to play with. I didn't see her any more.
Thomas and Momma argued a lot, and Momma went to the hospital again, but she said she was mugged on the street. When he broke my arm, I said I fell down the stairs.
One day, when Hector and Thomas were done selling drugs, they came back and used some and they stuck needles into Momma, and they beat me again. Momma was crying, and I felt dead inside, as usual, but I saw them sticking needles into themselves and I thought about those petrified rocks. I just wanted them to stop.
For the science fair, I read about organic chemistry on the computer, and it was hard at first, but I thought I'd try some of the enzymes, because they're not used up in the reaction, like me. I read these complicated papers, and I had to look up a lot of the terms, and I asked my science teacher, Ms. Atwood, all sorts of questions, but she didn't always know the answers, and I had to be careful what I asked, or she'd know.
Mostly, when I stayed late in the science lab at school, Ms. Atwood graded papers, while I worked on the school's organic synthesizer. It was an old model, and it didn't always get the stereoisomers right, but I read about an enzyme that caused runaway fibrinogen/thrombin interaction within the plasma membrane. You probably know all about this stuff, Mr. Campbell, because you have lots of stories about death rays and Null-A teleportation and things that my computer doesn't even know about. You must have a great job.
The first batches didn't work right. On batch number 14, the flies I used as an experiment group died, while the control group kept buzzing. The little bodies were really hard, like pebbles. I stole money from Thomas' drug stash and bought some lab mice. They were cute, and I didn't want to hurt them, but the books said I should start with animal testing. When I fed the mice the enzymes, nothing happened to them. They kept eating and pooping and running around in their cages, until one day one of them petrified. It was Feisty, the little one with the brown spots on his side, who always got into fights. After I fed them, one of the other mice bit him, and he turned to stone. I put him on the shelf in my room. His hair all fell out, and he weighs the same as a mouse, not like a rock, like I expected. He's just a little statue.
I guess the enzymes only work in blood, not when you eat them. I stole some of Thomas' used needles, and I found that batch 14 made mice and frogs turn into stone really well. I put the little statues on the shelves in my room, and I painted them. It's pretty cool, and I'd send you a picture, but Thomas sold my digitizer for drug money last month. Momma thinks I made the statues in art class, where I painted them, and she smiled a little, for once. I keep a frog in my pocket, for luck.
I put batch 14 in two of Hector's needles, and I kept them in my room. Thomas and Hector did drugs again that weekend, and I went into Thomas' room after two hours and twenty-nine minutes. I stood there with the needles in my hand, watching them, unconscious. I wanted to stick Hector first, because he sold the drugs that made Thomas bad, but I couldn't do it. It was really weird. I felt all black and cold, and I held the needle in my hand, but I couldn't stick it in him. Something splashed my hand, and I noticed I was crying, but I didn't feel anything. I turned to stick Thomas, but my stomach hurt, and my hand shook. I guess I made a noise, because Hector woke up.
"You bitch!" he yelled. "Steal our stingers, will you!" He kicked Thomas as he got up. "Get up, you heap of shit! Look at your scumbag sister!"
Thomas jumped up and looked around. His eyes were shaking back and forth in his head, and he wobbled as he moved toward me. Hector jumped me. I tried to stick him, but he was too fast and strong. I dropped one of the needles, and Hector and I fought over the other one. Thomas stepped forward, then he yelled. A needle was sticking out of his toe. Hector held my hands behind me and took the other needle, then he punched me. But I watched Thomas. He pulled the needle out of his toe and threw it in the sharps box. Then he raised his fist and stepped toward Hector and me. I'll never forget the expression on his face, because he'll stay that way forever. He stopped, as mad as I've ever seen him. Hector stopped hitting me and looked at him, too. Thomas was petrified.
Hector yelled and threw me on the bed . . .. He grabbed Thomas to shake him, but let go right away. Hector's eyes got really wide when he looked at me on the bed. He grabbed his stash and ran out of the room. I never saw him again. I never did find that other needle.
Momma thinks that Thomas and Hector ran away that day. I didn't tell her any different. She's really proud of the statues I made, of the mice and the frogs, but she never talks about the statue of Thomas. The hair fell out, and I had to cut the clothes off, and I never painted it, like the animals. It's still in the closet in his old room.
Mr. Campbell, I hope you like this story, because I really want to see it in your magazine. I don't know if you'll like it because people in your stories never do drugs or get hurt or even have brothers or Mammas. Please change the names so that nobody gets worried. My brother, Thomas, really did run away with Hector that day.
Really.
Sincerely,
_Dear Plus:
I'm sorry. Mr. John W. Campbell, Jr., died in 1971. He would have enjoyed your story.
_Astounding Science Fiction_ magazine ceased publication in 1960, when it became _Analog Science Fiction/Science Fact._ The dates on your old issues are correct. Really.
Ed._
-----
This ASCII representation is the copyrighted property of
the author. You may not redistribute it for any reason.
The original story is available on-line at
http://tale.com/titles-free
How to Petrify Your Brother
How to Petrify Your Brother
by Elisabeth Leslie
Dear Mr. Campbell:
I really love your _Astounding_ magazines, with the fake dates on them. My Aunt Jemimah, whose real name is Jocelyn, but she looks like an old syrup bottle, and she really isn't my aunt, has a box of them in her attic, which is really spiff, and they smell cool, but they're kind of falling apart. I like the ones that are supposed to be 1948 the best, but I can tell they're fake because they have rockets and space suits and everyone knows that rockets and space suits were invented by NASA and David Bowie.
So I wanted to send you a story. You can put it in your 1961 magazines, whenever you write them. It's about "How to Petrify Your Brother." My name is Millie, but it's really Millennia, because of when I was born, but my brother, Thomas, says everybody knows I should be Millie Plus One because I was born in 2001, but I read a book that says he is wrong. He broke my finger when I told him, so he calls me Plus. He is ten years older than me.
The story is about a girl whose older brother hurt her and her mother and she turned him into stone. Just to write the story, I'll pretend it was me, but it really isn't. Really.
So when this girl . . . I mean... so the story starts like this.
I really hate my brother, but I love him and I don't want him to go to jail. I just want him to stop hurting Momma and me. I don't remember Daddy, but Momma always bites her lip when she talks about him. I used to have a little sister, but she's gone, and Daddy is in jail, and we don't talk about them any more. Why is it, Mr. Campbell, that I can't remember what my sister looked like? I don't want her to be gone, but she is. I know she was brown, like me, and small, and she smiled and cried a lot, but I can't remember her face.
Two years ago, when I was little, Momma took me to the zoo. We saw animals and birds and stuff. We missed the bus, and we were late getting home, but Thomas was already home from school, sitting on the steps. He was really mad that we weren't home, and when we got inside he yelled at Momma and pushed her against the wall and told her to make dinner. I got scared so I cried and he hit me, then Momma hit him and he hit Momma a lot until she fell down. I called the 911 and the people took her away with a siren, but she told the doctor she fell down the stairs. The hospital was all white inside. I tried to write about it then, but we have a cheap computer that says "UNRECOGNIZED VOICE INPUT" when you're crying or yelling or screaming, so you have to wait until later, and then it didn't matter as much, and, anyway, Thomas was home.
Aunt Jemimah takes care of me when Momma is at work and Thomas is at school, and she takes care of other girls, too, sometimes. That's where I met Melissa, who has pretty blonde hair and skin. Melissa wasn't very good at math or science or computers, so we worked on homework together until she got bored, then she watched video. During teambuilding month at school, Melissa and I worked on a science fair project together, where we got a bunch of fossils, which are petrified animals, and petrified wood, and we put together an animation sequence on the computer. Melissa has a pretty voice, and we made video of her showing the formation of metamorphic rocks. We won first place at the school, but only second at the district, so we didn't get to go to state. I decided to win next year, so I studied what made wood get petrified. It takes millions of years, which is much too long.
One day, when Aunt Jemimah had to go somewhere, she got Thomas to come over and watch Melissa and me while she went. Thomas brought his friend, Hector, who everybody knows sells drugs, but nobody talks about. Thomas really likes Melissa, and he told us he didn't know who was prettier, her or me. She said I was prettier, and I said she was prettier, but I hoped that I was, really. Hector said we could have a Beauty Contest to see. He and Thomas would be the judges. Melissa said it wouldn't be fair, because I am Thomas' sister, and he'd know. He said we could switch clothes, or even take them off, and Melissa liked that. Hector said that it still wouldn't be fair, because they could see the difference between our skin, so he would turn off the light. And we lay on the bed, holding hands, while they judged us both, and it hurt. Hector said he couldn't tell, and he'd have to find out
tomorrow, but he thought the one on the left was prettier, but we couldn't tell if he meant his left or ours, and we had to get d
Melissa got pregnant later, and I read in a book that she was fertilized. I guess I wasn't fertilized, and I was jealous that Melissa was having a baby to play with. I didn't see her any more.
Thomas and Momma argued a lot, and Momma went to the hospital again, but she said she was mugged on the street. When he broke my arm, I said I fell down the stairs.
One day, when Hector and Thomas were done selling drugs, they came back and used some and they stuck needles into Momma, and they beat me again. Momma was crying, and I felt dead inside, as usual, but I saw them sticking needles into themselves and I thought about those petrified rocks. I just wanted them to stop.
For the science fair, I read about organic chemistry on the computer, and it was hard at first, but I thought I'd try some of the enzymes, because they're not used up in the reaction, like me. I read these complicated papers, and I had to look up a lot of the terms, and I asked my science teacher, Ms. Atwood, all sorts of questions, but she didn't always know the answers, and I had to be careful what I asked, or she'd know.
Mostly, when I stayed late in the science lab at school, Ms. Atwood graded papers, while I worked on the school's organic synthesizer. It was an old model, and it didn't always get the stereoisomers right, but I read about an enzyme that caused runaway fibrinogen/thrombin interaction within the plasma membrane. You probably know all about this stuff, Mr. Campbell, because you have lots of stories about death rays and Null-A teleportation and things that my computer doesn't even know about. You must have a great job.
The first batches didn't work right. On batch number 14, the flies I used as an experiment group died, while the control group kept buzzing. The little bodies were really hard, like pebbles. I stole money from Thomas' drug stash and bought some lab mice. They were cute, and I didn't want to hurt them, but the books said I should start with animal testing. When I fed the mice the enzymes, nothing happened to them. They kept eating and pooping and running around in their cages, until one day one of them petrified. It was Feisty, the little one with the brown spots on his side, who always got into fights. After I fed them, one of the other mice bit him, and he turned to stone. I put him on the shelf in my room. His hair all fell out, and he weighs the same as a mouse, not like a rock, like I expected. He's just a little statue.
I guess the enzymes only work in blood, not when you eat them. I stole some of Thomas' used needles, and I found that batch 14 made mice and frogs turn into stone really well. I put the little statues on the shelves in my room, and I painted them. It's pretty cool, and I'd send you a picture, but Thomas sold my digitizer for drug money last month. Momma thinks I made the statues in art class, where I painted them, and she smiled a little, for once. I keep a frog in my pocket, for luck.
I put batch 14 in two of Hector's needles, and I kept them in my room. Thomas and Hector did drugs again that weekend, and I went into Thomas' room after two hours and twenty-nine minutes. I stood there with the needles in my hand, watching them, unconscious. I wanted to stick Hector first, because he sold the drugs that made Thomas bad, but I couldn't do it. It was really weird. I felt all black and cold, and I held the needle in my hand, but I couldn't stick it in him. Something splashed my hand, and I noticed I was crying, but I didn't feel anything. I turned to stick Thomas, but my stomach hurt, and my hand shook. I guess I made a noise, because Hector woke up.
"You bitch!" he yelled. "Steal our stingers, will you!" He kicked Thomas as he got up. "Get up, you heap of shit! Look at your scumbag sister!"
Thomas jumped up and looked around. His eyes were shaking back and forth in his head, and he wobbled as he moved toward me. Hector jumped me. I tried to stick him, but he was too fast and strong. I dropped one of the needles, and Hector and I fought over the other one. Thomas stepped forward, then he yelled. A needle was sticking out of his toe. Hector held my hands behind me and took the other needle, then he punched me. But I watched Thomas. He pulled the needle out of his toe and threw it in the sharps box. Then he raised his fist and stepped toward Hector and me. I'll never forget the expression on his face, because he'll stay that way forever. He stopped, as mad as I've ever seen him. Hector stopped hitting me and looked at him, too. Thomas was petrified.
Hector yelled and threw me on the bed . . .. He grabbed Thomas to shake him, but let go right away. Hector's eyes got really wide when he looked at me on the bed. He grabbed his stash and ran out of the room. I never saw him again. I never did find that other needle.
Momma thinks that Thomas and Hector ran away that day. I didn't tell her any different. She's really proud of the statues I made, of the mice and the frogs, but she never talks about the statue of Thomas. The hair fell out, and I had to cut the clothes off, and I never painted it, like the animals. It's still in the closet in his old room.
Mr. Campbell, I hope you like this story, because I really want to see it in your magazine. I don't know if you'll like it because people in your stories never do drugs or get hurt or even have brothers or Mammas. Please change the names so that nobody gets worried. My brother, Thomas, really did run away with Hector that day.
Really.
Sincerely,
_Dear Plus:
I'm sorry. Mr. John W. Campbell, Jr., died in 1971. He would have enjoyed your story.
_Astounding Science Fiction_ magazine ceased publication in 1960, when it became _Analog Science Fiction/Science Fact._ The dates on your old issues are correct. Really.
Ed._
-----
This ASCII representation is the copyrighted property of
the author. You may not redistribute it for any reason.
The original story is available on-line at
http://tale.com/titles-free