Chapter 2 – in which I converse with a beetle named Gill

You might say that anyone foolish enough to start a conversation with a beetle deserves whatever comes to them. There are many people who categorically refuse to converse with any creature or species, for that matter, other than humans precisely in order to avoid the unexpected. They seem to know instinctively there’s the lurking danger of strangeness in any seemingly-innocent mouse, fly or potted plant. Some people take this principle a stage further and try to avoid conversing even with other humans, unless they’ve been thoroughly vetted and approved by society, which means they are unwilling to talk to most people on the planet for fear they may be infected in some way by the “strangeness”.

Well, I didn’t seem to have any such scruples, and rather like Bilbo Baggins setting off on a madcap adventure one fine morning, I surprise myself by unexpectedly addressing the aforementioned beetle that has just appeared from nowhere.

“I don’t mean to be over-inquisitive,” I begin, “or impolite, but would it be too much to inquire whether you just popped out of my forehead?” I ask the greeny-blue beetle that is now perched on a chair a metre from where I am sitting.

Naturally, I’m not expecting the beetle to answer. I live in the same world as you and beetles do not, except in children’s tales, converse with humans. Then why, you may ask, do I strike up a conversation in the first place? Good question... just on a whim, I guess, or from a mildly confused sense of exasperation that something as irrational as insect teleportation seems to be happening with my, albeit innocent, participation. In any case, the last thing I was expecting was for a beetle to answer my largely hypothetical question.

“By all means feel free to inquire,” the beetle replies with courtesy. “We have, after all, been taking something of a liberty ever since Roger opened up Faery, but these things can’t be helped...  Still, you must have given your consent, or he’d not have been able to do so.”

Let me just start with some punctuation marks to indicate what I’m feeling at this moment: !!!???***$%^&*()_+}{@:LL?>><!”£$#§

I’ve changed the colour for emphasis and though I’m not entirely sure I’ve used the correct symbols or the correct order, you probably understand more or less what I’m trying to convey, and at this moment you’re probably firmly alongside those who would never knowingly talk to any other life-form, with a slightly sanctimonious “I told you so” echoing through the corridors of your rational mind, but what can I do? I’ve unleashed the genie from the proverbial bottle, or “lamp” as purists would have it, and now there’s no going back, so without the blessing of hindsight I have no option but to proceed.

The first problem is not so much what to say as how to speak. The beetle’s short opening statement has raised so many questions that my mind is immediately gridlocked. “Who is Roger?”...”What is this so-called “Faery” he’s opened up?”...”How have I given my consent?... and to what?”... not to mention “how on earth am I able to hear a beetle talking?” These questions frantically vie for the single microphone on the speaker’s podium of my mind and so, somewhat embarrassingly, I find myself doing an improbably lifelike impression of the gold medallist at last year’s “Wondering why the shining sky” Gaping-goldfish Eisteddfod, while the greeny-blue beetle patiently looks on.

“I understand...” it interrupts my agony. “It’s not unusual to be somewhat overwhelmed by your first direct trans-dimensional communication, so allow me to answer your questions, all of which were conveyed instantaneously to me through our high speed data link.”

Helpful though this offer undoubtedly is, it seems to further exacerbate my uncontrollable facial spasms, now indicative of a goldfish choking on a mouldy shoe.
“Assistance, Roger,” I hear the beetle’s message, and the same moment I feel a soothing sensation spreading through my forehead from the beetle mark that apparently Roger had given me.

“That’s better,” it continues. “You’re a touch over-excited but that’s easy enough to deal with. Roger just applied a little alpha to your electroencephalogram which has a calming effect. Hope you don’t mind. It’ll be easier for you to follow the conversation.”

I nod serenely, not really knowing what this “alpha” refers to, but definitely enjoying the calm-peacefulness I am now experiencing.

“So, first things first,” the beetle continues. “My name’s Gill, as opposed to “greeny-blue beetle” that you’ve been calling me. This will make it easier for you to write up your report when you get round to doing so,” says Gill with what seems to be the hint of a smile.