Subject 1

You think about things as you are, not as they are. That quote is a favorite of mine. Think about it. People refuse to meet other creatures at their level. Something, someone, can either be humanlike or nothing. So perhaps you will never understand me. What am I? I am as skilled as a surgeon, as merciless as any desperate master. Subject 1 doesn’t want this. I know he doesn’t want this. But life isn’t fair, that I know. If only he did.

I never got to know Subject 1 before I began my transformation process. This was not intended to transform me, but him. If you’re like me- and you’ll know if you are- and you need to perform this ritual, pay heed to my instructions. It could mean the difference between everything going right and everything crashing down. I might just be a perfectionist, but my children mean the world to me and I couldn’t give birth to them myself. I traveled quite a bit before I found Subject 1. He seemed like a perfect candidate for the job- just walking along through the grass, not caring about a thing. I made sure the needle was ready as I crept up behind, as I knew this was an essential feature. One wouldn’t want him to get away before we could get to the fun part. One must always be ready to strike, which I was. He didn’t even notice the needle full of venom stabbing below his leg at first, but it didn’t take long for the pain to sink in. He struggled, but it wasn’t any use. I was swift enough to avoid a blow from one of his limbs. And his limbs, oh… he rubbed his face obsessively. But it wasn’t that he was a germophobe. They all do that, when the needle goes in a few times. Nothing to worry about. But he seemed so aloof, so oblivious, that I almost felt bad for him, staring into his now vapid eyes. What I did next… that, I knew I had to do where no one could see me. But looking around once or twice generated no threats, so I pierced his head and drank some of the fluid within to replenish myself. If that revolts you, maybe you aren’t part of my target audience here. I’m sure that includes most of you who end up reading this. But it doesn’t really matter, does it? There’s nothing you could do.

Making sure the venom had done its job, I seized what remained of his head and dragged him home while he looked at me, as if pleading for one final chance. But I don’t give second chances. Only those who have done something wrong need second chances. And so, showing no mercy, I attached one of my eggs to his leg and locked him in my home. It was perfect- now a zombie, he had allowed me to drag him wherever I pleased, unable to leave the little dwelling to which I consigned him. Don’t worry. Subject 1 was still fresh when my little girl was born. The venom made sure he was alive and immobile until she arrived. Wouldn’t want her first meal to be moldy. And so my only child, who I only just met yesterday, burst the seal that kept the home entrance shut and made her way into the real world. When I saw her in the forest I knew, just knew, that it was her, and I think that she did to. Because she told me she was going to have a baby.

And I reminded her of three things.

The jewel wasp is always alert.

The jewel wasp is never hesitant.

And the jewel wasp is always ready.