The Profane Dog

Chosen Prologue

From its perch on the tree branch, the bird sat motionlessly, its beady nocturnal eyes focused on the anoga beetle some fifteen feet below. Knowing of and caring nothing for the strange significance the humans of the region had placed on the ungainly insect, the bird saw only food and had determined some time ago that the beetle was destined to become a major component in its next meal. The only obstacle preventing the beetle from realizing its fate, was the fact that it was crawling up the leg of the small human who had been lying in the grass for more than an hour.

The bird blinked one eye disdainfully at the homo sapiens in an avian version of a sneer. It had no use for the noisy, dirty creatures at all, and the small ones were especially nasty. But eventually, the animal would raise itself up on its two legs and walk away, thereby leaving the anoga defenseless. Carefully, so as not to disturb the surrounding leaves, the bird tensed its shoulder muscles ready for the eventual dive, and lowered its head to more carefully watch the progress of its prey.

Slowly, the insect labored up ever higher toward the mountainous summit of the humans knee. Its heavy, hourglass shaped shell rocked unsteadily on long, spindly legs that appeared far too fragile to support such cumbersome armor, and yet, support it they did, aided by the hundreds of retractable, hair-like barbs that covered each leg and gripped any surface with which they came in contact. Now those barbs came in especially useful, slipping between the closely woven fibers of the humans trousers and clinging to them like miniscule climbing spikes.

And then . . .

Success.

In defiance of gravity and inefficient evolution and any other force or impediment that might have sought to keep it forever bound to the soil, the anoga beetle crested the apex of the humans knee and surveyed its next goal. Across the canyon of the creatures abdomen and chest, over the strange cliff-like crag of its chin, there was its face. The insect had no understanding of why it must get to the face, but it knew that once there, it would hop from the humans lips, to its nose, to its forehead.

Overhead, the bird saw the beetle emerge in full view. Now was the time. Hunger had overcome patience. The bird snapped its beak two times in a spasm of excited jitters and crouched, ready to drop. But at the last moment, the anoga suddenly became luminescent; its shell which before had been dull black, now glowed iridescent red as if it had caught fire. And with a hard shift in posture, the bird pulled out of its dive five feet above the insect and flew off into the night. Though not of the most intelligent species of its genus, the bird knew the minds of its ancestors, and its ancestors told it that birds who eats glowing anoga beetles are birds that die within minutes.

Even destiny occasionally makes mistakes.

Now the insect jumped. Gracefully, as if lifted by an invisible hand, it lifted off from the humans knee and landed delicately on its lips. Twice, the anogas inner fire pulsed and then again it hopped - this time, landing on the rounded peak of a nose. Twice more the beetle glowed and jumped one last time, coming to rest on the smooth plane of a youthful forehead. The glowing brightened to nearly the intensity of a glowing ember in a fireplace and then extinguished.

Even before the insect had touched his face, the boy knew it was there. The feeling of those spiny little appendages climbing up his leg had long since distracted him from his nightly stargazing. For almost an hour he had lain perfectly still in the dew dampened grass, waiting to see what would happen, because he had always been taught that is what you were supposed to do. But now the beetle had hopped and it had glowed. The show was over.

With a swift motion, Darius raised his right arm, scooped the anoga into his hand and then sat up. For a long series of minutes, he sat studying the strange looking insect. He had seen them many times, crawling over branches and leaves in the elaborate cages in the temples, but never crawling out in the open. He studied it more closely. Unlike other insect he had held, the anoga seemed more solid, more substantial, perhaps a side-effect of its great importance. The boy sniffed and frowned pensively. He had been touched. Chosen.

Darius. Get home, now. Its after dark.

The boy started slightly at the sound of his grandmothers voice cutting the silence of the meadow. Still staring at the insect in his hand, he tapped the reply button on the side of the small comm unit attached to his belt.

Yeah. Okay.
Now!

Okay. He answered through teeth clenched in annoyance, and then jammed the comms off button.

The anoga was now crawling exhaustedly across the palm of his hand. Darius carefully touched an index finger to its shiny, smooth shell and felt something like a very faint electrical shock. Quickly he pulled his finger away. His frowned deepened. He knew what he was supposed to do, what tradition demanded. This anoga had to be taken to an elder who understood such things, the signs had to be interpreted, and in those signs his future would be revealed.

With great care, the boy bent down and set the insect in the grass. Yes, he knew what he was supposed to do. Gradually, the pensive frown on his chubby, eight year olds face became a disarmingly vicious sneer. Then without a moments hesitation, he lifted his one foot and crushed the anoga under his shoe.

* * * * * * * * *

Darius Gideon! Where have you been? Why is your comm turned off?

The boy glanced at the heavy-set woman standing on the front porch, fists braced on her wide hips. He shrugged and pushed past her, reaching for the button to open the front door.

I was out back.

Doing what?

Watching for Netaris. Its supposed to be passing over us sometime this week.

The woman dismissed the excuse.

I dont like you being out after dark. Its not safe.

The boy ignored her and moved into the house. Willa Gideon followed close behind her youngest grandchild, feeling a particular sort of annoyance building inside her. It was the same sort of annoyance she always felt when dealing with young Darius, the sort that comes from knowing that she was being ignored. She scowled at the dirt and wet grass plastered to the back of his shirt and trousers, but said nothing. Her eyes trailed down further until they glanced over his shoes and the peculiar smudges the left one was leaving on the sandstone floor.

Before she even realized what she was doing, the womans hand clamped down on the boys shoulder, halting any further forward movement.

Whats that on your shoe? She asked, even though she knew the answer.

That glow.

The boy turned around slowly.

An anoga landed on me while I was out.

It landed on you? Willa asked, the hand moving from the boys shoulder to cover her mouth in astonishment.

Darius shrugged.

Yeah. On my face.

The grandmother muttered something incomprehensible in the language of the country she had been born in.

Where is it, Darius? She demanded, a slight note of panic in her voice. What did you do with it?

He glanced up at her face, his expression implacable.

I stepped on it.

And then he was gone, walking through the house toward his bedroom, leaving a trail of faintly glowing footprints behind.