You have to leave now, and never come back here. Have you ever heard of insect politics? Neither have I. Insects… don’t have politics. They’re very… brutal. No compassion, no compromise. We can’t trust the insect. I’d like to become the first… insect politician. Y’see, I’d like to, but… I’m afraid, uh…
I’m saying… I’m saying I – I’m an insect who dreamt he was a man and loved it. But now the dream is over… and the insect is awake.
I’m saying… I’ll hurt you if you stay.
There was an old lady who swallowed a fly, perhaps she’ll die.
What’s there to take? The disease has just revealed its purpose. We don’t have to worry about contagion anymore… I know what the disease wants.
It wants to… turn me into something else. That’s not too terrible is it? Most people would give anything to be turned into something else.
Whaddaya think? A fly. Am I becoming a hundred-and-eighty-five-pound fly? No, I’m becoming something that never existed before. I’m becoming… Brundlefly. Don’t you think that’s worth a Nobel Prize or two?
A fly… got into the… transmitter pod with me that first time, when I was alone. The computer… got confused – there weren’t supposed to be two separate genetic patterns – and it decided to… uhh… splice us together. It mated us, me and the fly. We hadn’t even been properly introduced.
My teeth have begun to fall out. The medicine cabinet is now the Brundle Museum of Natural History. You wanna see what else is in it?
How does Brundlefly eat? Well, he found out the hard and painful way that he eats very much the way a fly eats. His teeth are now useless, because although he can chew up solid food, he can’t digest them. Solid food hurts. So like a fly, Brundlefly breaks down solids with a corrosive enzyme, playfully called “vomit drop”. He regurgitates on his food, it liquifies, and then he sucks it back up. Ready for a demonstration, kids? Here goes…
You’re afraid to dive into the plasma pool, aren’t you? You’re afraid to be destroyed and recreated, aren’t you? I’ll bet you think that you woke me up about the flesh, don’t you? But you only know society’s straight line about the flesh. You can’t penetrate beyond society’s sick, gray, fear of the flesh. Drink deep, or taste not, the plasma spring! Y’see what I’m saying? And I’m not just talking about sex and penetration. I’m talking about penetration beyond the veil of the flesh! A deep penetrating dive into the plasma pool!
What am I working on? Uhh… I’m working on something that will change the world, and human life as we know it.
We’ll be the ultimate family. A family of three joined together in one body. More human than I am alone.
I farm bits and pieces out to the guys who are much more brilliant than I am. I say, “build me a laser”, this. “Design me a molecular analyzer”, that. They do, and I just stick ’em together. But, none of them know what the project really is. So…
Hmm-mmm… But they leave me alone, ’cause I’m not expensive. And they know they’ll end up owning it, whatever it is.
I will say now, however objectively, that human teleportation, molecular decimation, breakdown, reformation, is inherently purging.
The computer is giving us its interpretation… of a steak. It’s, uh translating it for us; it’s rethinking it, rather than reproducing it, and something is getting lost in the translation.
The flesh. It should make the computer, uh crazy. Like those old ladies pinching babies. But it doesn’t; not yet because I haven’t taught the computer to be made crazy by the…
flesh. The poetry of the steak. So, I’m gonna start teaching it now.
You were right. I am diseased, and uh… it might be contagious somehow. I wouldn’t want to infect you.
