A little more than 13 million years ago, a lush green planet closely circled a fading red star. A solar greenhouse, this planet was like an oversized Eden nestled just over 15 light-years from Earth in the constellation of Aquarius. Life had come suddenly to this planet, and taken only centuries to spread across the globe. Given time, this planet seemed destined for a wealth of biodiversity like the galaxy had ever seen before.
Unfortunately, the green planet had a red twin equal in size that had fallen into an unruly orbit among their common star. After centuries of close calls, the two planet collided with obliterating force. The impact shattered the planets into shards that exploded out in every direction toward the far corners of the unimaginably great void of outer space
The smaller fragments were caught by the gravity of the dying star, creating an asteroid belt much like the one that separates Mars from Jupiter. But the larger pieces shrugged off the dwarf’s feeble grasp and continued on, further and further into the darkness.
As the decades became centuries, and the centuries became millennia, two of the shards drew closer and closer to our fiery young yellow star. Finally, on a bright afternoon in late November, the shards collided with the intense heat of Earth’s atmosphere. By the time the mighty shard of the green planet hit the sidewalk of a sleepy New England college town, it was scarcely the size of tennis ball. With the entire region in the grips of a massive Nor’easter, no one was outside to witness the spectacular descent from the thick white sky to an unexceptional street on the outskirts of town.
In fact, it wasn’t discovered until the following morning, when Derek Peters unearthed it digging his car out from the massive snowbank. At first he thought, it was a dog turd. Disgusted, he was about to use the shovel to toss in onto his neighbor’s lawn when he noticed that the concrete was as blackened as the oblong pebble. Curious, he grabbed it with his glove and lifted it to his face for closer inspection. Though the strange thing clearly didn’t originate with a dog, it did have a strange odor — spicy, almost, and kind of wild. With a shrug, he stuffed the mysterious thing into his pocket and refocused on the mound of snow that separated the driver’s side of his car from the rest of the pavement.
Unbeknownst to Derek, however, the origin of that smell had jumped ship. The impact that had destroyed two planets was unable to overcome an insanely tenacious virus which had thrived in a hollow pocket of the shard for the entire length of the journey. The impact with the sidewalk had breached that air pocket and exposed a whole new world in which to thrive.
It hit Derek’s nostril en-masse, riding the nasal cavity to the pharynx, the pharynx to the larynx, the larynx to the trachea, and the trachea to the lungs. There it settled in and multiplied, being swept with every breath to every corner of his body.
For scientists, this virus would have been the Holy Grail. As it swept into each cell, it headed directly for the nucleus, and rewrote a specific segment of Derek’s genetic code. If humans could have gotten a hold of it, they could have reprogrammed it to eliminate genetic diseases and cure cancer.
Unfortunately, the virus that had survived millions of years and trillions of miles was unable to overcome Derek’s immune system. Though the virus left him bedridden and miserably sick for days, by the next weekend he was starting to feel more like himself, unaware that an unused and unremarkable slice of his genetic makeup had been transformed into something remarkable.
For days, Derek’s life proceeded much as it always had. At 5′ 9″ tall and 155 pounds, Derek was about as unremarkable as it is possible to be. Calling him handsome would be an act of charity, but he wasn’t notably hideous or deformed, either. He left the house considerably more than his roommate Jerry, a Computer Science major and [i]World of Warcraft[/i] addict he’d known since high school, but no one ever called his name out from across the quad. At parties, he was the wallflower in the corner, awkwardly clutching a red plastic cup full of beer that he never more than sipped. In the photos that popped up on Facebook the next day, he looked like a piece of furniture. Whenever possible, he signed up for lecture hall classes where he could fade into the anonymity of the crowd.
In other words, he avoided people, and they avoided him. But as he plodded along the third floor of the library one afternoon, his attention focused on keeping the dozen or so books in his arms carefully balanced, he didn’t notice the door of the women’s room fly open. The collision was spectacular. Boy and girl tumbled to the floor in a heap. Books scattered. Papers flew everywhere. Derek and his victim traded apologies simultaneously, as they struggled to untangle each other from each other.
As she helped him reassemble his pile of materials, the girl was struck by the seemingly unremarkable Derek: why hadn’t she noticed him around campus before? After taking a closer look at him, she concluded that he wasn’t her type. But what a cologne! Unlike most of the freshmen on campus, here was a guy who avoided bathing himself in Axe body spray. His aroma was subtle but tantalizing, earthy yet sweet. She flashed him her most flirtatious smile and fired off a wink, the first such attention Derek had ever received.
She headed off down the hall before he had time to recover. After turning the corner, she pulled unconsciously at the edge of her shirt, which had fit perfectly only moments before, but now exposed a thin slice of skin between the bottom hem and the waistband on her skirt. Her hand then slid down into a hip pocket, where she kept a stash of Kleenex to fend off her wicked cold. But instead of fishing one out, she paused. After an explorative snuff, she realized the snot in her nose had cleared up. In fact, she thought, I feel great!
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