Nothing Matters Anymore

Inspired by the "MelonHead" douijinshi series by Awatake Takahiro.

***

The days were long and filled with the buzz of cicadas. After the last class set them loose, the youths were allowed a pause to relax before matriculating into the next stage of their lives. Once they reached the cracked levee, the group walked along it to their favorite haunt in the countryside. There was water below, but clogged with the thick growth on either side. Amidst the thick green kudzu that clutched at the debris of the old world, the bone white office towers, abandoned and partially collapsed but still tall, were a reminder of a vanished age.

Once in a while, Fran glanced back to try to catch one of the boys staring at her legs. Her heart would skip a beat if it was her crush, Shawn.

He caught up to her and their legs matched stride, step for step. Fran felt like everything was in sync, just for a moment, as if the gears of the universe had aligned perfectly in their revolution.

He asked, "So, are you going to go?"

She ducked her head, contemplating her answer. Their steps gradually fell out of pace.

The former students had just graduated from the local high school, and these days there were only a handful of options for their future. Some were given the rare passes that allowed travel to different territories, far from home but lucrative in terms of career advancement. As an honor student, Fran had received one, but was debating whether she wanted to use it or stay in her home town. Shawn would most likely take a position at his uncle's shop.

Something made her blurt out an answer she instantly regretted, "Maybe Melon Head will choose me this year."

He stopped, replying sharply, "That's bad luck."

His eyes darted towards the thick wall of green, imagining a shape in the foliage. Melon Head must live somewhere out in the ever growing tangle of vegetation that had taken over the landscape. People made up tales of the beings lair, of a kingdom of vines and moss where the strange creatures made their abode but no one who ever traveled into the forest could accurately describe whatever it was they encountered in the forbidden heart of the land.

Melon Head would appear at random times, mostly, it seemed, to observe human activity and sometimes interact in mundane affairs. Other times, it would select individuals, usually women, to take back with it. There were rumors, but no one dwelled too deeply on what happened to those he selected. They all returned safely, but inextricably changed by the experience and rarely with much interest in relating any of it.

When the creatures first arrived, the Earth didn't stop spinning. It was just another day and when it was all over the next morning dawned as it always had, except everything, of course, was totally different. They didn't really like to be looked at, preferring to manage things from the shadows but when they did want your attention they appeared in sharp focus. Later, after any encounter, the exact details would blur a bit in one's memory and how they actually communicated, uncertain. Individuals would recall the conversation with bemusement, like the off-the-cuff discourse on random sidewalks or the murmur of commuters speaking but not really intelligible. Did they come in giant saucers or cloaked battle cruisers or traverse some demonic gate from the netherworld? No one knew, and later, cared to ask.

The effects of their arrival were swift, as humanity's collective industry ground to a halt after a few warnings that no one took seriously at first until the lights flickered and there was a moment of primal fear that gave way to a fatalistic acceptance. There was no violence, just a quick settling of things as factories were closed down, flights cancelled, businesses closed nearly simultaneously all around the globe.

Important functions such as power to hospitals, agriculture, municipal sewage, and so forth were maintained but most of those were wound down over a more gradual process as the scale of human life stepped back to a nearly pre-industrial age. Governments, militaries, and political organizations were disbanded without a fuss. It wasn't coercion, or even a compulsion, merely a dull sense of inevitability as men and women in power loosened their ties and doffed their coats, closed the books, and retired to their homes as if it could all start again the next day as usual.

It never did.

They were solitary beings. They liked to hide their willowy bodies with long button down shirts, their root-like legs and arms the only exposed portions besides their globular skulls which gave them their customary title: melon heads. For convenience, most were referred to in the masculine although a female of the species was rumored to have been sighted. Large cities were mostly abandoned and the clutches of townships were divided into provinces managed by a sole melon head who was the de facto lord of each fiefdom although they did not directly interfere with human bureaucracy. The exact mechanics of the division were also a mystery. Each region managed their affairs internally based on the customs and principles they themselves chose to keep except the notion of the nation state was functionally obsolete. Civics was purely local.

Each province just called their Melon Head with that name, as most people never encountered more than one. Of course, no one really knew if they even had brains in those round domes, or if they thought at all like humans but it was more convenient to anthropomorphize their behavior as if they did. Another common affectation was the straw hats that they liked to wear, as if they were benevolent retiree cultivators tending to their trophy gardens.

Perhaps that's what they were doing, cultivating the Earth since humanity had been doing such a terrible job of it in those latter years. It was a relief to most people, like a great weight of responsibility had been taken away from their shoulders.

Humanity probably knew, deep inside, that they were fucking things up and driving headlong on the road to an inevitable collapse, but drunkenly jamming the accelerator anyways and arguing like a bickering family while the cliff loomed ever closer. The people in the religion business were mightily disappointed when it wasn't one of their prophetic idols who had descended to take dominion over them, but diminutive aliens with rather mild, aloof, personalities.

Figuring out how the creatures evolved their limitless power of persuasion would require a dedicated will and scientific effort, both of which were sapped out of the human species. It was a lot quieter now, although life, for the most part, continued. People lived provincially as they had for much of human history as the infrastructure of mass communication spun down. Some nights, the remnants of satellites could be seen as shooting stars overhead against the ancient and immense background of the galaxy that lit the dome of the sky as it had in generations past. The biggest cities no longer polluted it with their light or smog. The carcasses of humanity's industry lay rotting, overtaken by the green kudzu that reclaimed the once teaming continents at the unfathomable whim of those strange, alien, beings who had wrested control from the former masters.

"Hey you two, come on," one of their friends called out to them. They hurried to catch up, leaving the levee to descend onto a connecting road that was still maintained.

The group of youths were going to picnic and swim in a grotto where fresh water flowed from an unknown source, deep underground. It was a lot easier these days not to ask how this was possible, especially after that day, when nothing mattered anymore.

The road continued for much further than their destination, ultimately disappearing into the forest. They always stopped at the decrepit cattle guard that marked the border of the next province before turning back to loiter in the shadow of a rusting railroad bridge. There was an old discarded couch and a giant wooden cable reel they used as a table. Its surface was scored with graffiti including the names they'd carved into it over summers past.

"What do you think happened to all the other people? There were billions all over the world but there can't be that many now, not even a fraction." Henrietta, the other girl in the group, asked. Her cheeks were red from the beer they had brought in a cooler.

Vincent gave her a stern look, "I don't think you're supposed to ask those kinds of questions." He'd taken her to prom during their senior year and they'd even kissed but his freckled face had always annoyed her so they were never officially together.

"They had to go somewhere," she insisted.

Shawn skipped a stone into the creek, "I heard the melon heads aren't from outer space at all. They're from another dimension, so that's where they put all the bad people."

"How do you know we're not the bad people, left behind?" Henrietta continued. "I wanted to go to college in a big university, get a job at a tech firm and fly to meetings all over the world. Now, almost nobody flies and no one builds anything anymore and all we can do is read books or listen to the radio and moldy old recordings and once all those are worn out, no one will be making any more. It's boring!"

Rudy piped up, "People still make movies and stuff. We're having film night this weekend, they're going to show something they made in one of the big cities at the library. They're going to project it on the wall and have buttery popcorn and stuff, just like the old days!"

This didn't appease Henrietta who just gave him a disgusted look. She was the oldest and still remembered what it was like before the Big Day. She groused, "Not even close. They had cartoons in 3D they made on computers. No one has computers anymore. And the theaters would hold as many people as our whole town. And I remember real butter, not the stuff they have now."

Fran interjected, "I want to swim, let's head to the grotto."

"Enough arguing about the old days," Shawn said, tossing one last pebble into the water. "I'm tired of the kudzu burgers too, but it's not that bad." Melon Head enforced a nearly vegan policy on the human diet, although the exact source of the protein for the "kudzu" burgers was not known except that pallets of the processed stuff was shipped from another province by truck. A limited amount of internal combustion engines were still working and maintained. Shawn's uncle, Peter McIntyre, ran the mechanics shop that fixed up and sold parts for salvaged old world technology. Somewhere there might have been a joke about the faux meat being made from the disappeared people but no one in the group would think of that notion.

The grotto was a remnant from an old structure, a gymnasium perhaps, shattered pieces of it surrounded the entrance to the pool and a concrete slab created an overhang from which they could jump into the pool of water. They had cleared it of most hazards and knew which parts to avoid but it was still a bit risky. It was their secret hideout they had been using since middle school and so far no one had managed to spear themselves on a piece of rebar or get trapped in the maze of rubble underwater. Medical science hadn't improved exactly, instead it had adapted. Minor injuries could be treated, however, major trauma could be life threatening and there were no medivac services anymore or phones to call for help.

Nevertheless, Fran peeled out of her shorts and top to reveal the swimsuit she had put on in advance and dove headfirst into the deep water that led to the grotto. She swam hard with clean strokes until she reached the interior, popping up to crawl onto a ledge. Their graffiti lined the walls which were illuminated by gaping cracks in the structure overhead. Sometimes pieces eroded and fell off after the rains, but somehow the whole thing didn't collapse. The sound echoed in the chamber of broken concrete crusted over with slime and the ever present moss that liked to grew like a fungus in the moist shadows. It wasn't native to this clime, and probably, the world.

Shawn bobbed up a few moments later and joined her. They sat in silence in the hallowed space, just listening to their breath and echoes of a dead world.

It wasn't long after this that she met Melon Head and her life changed forever. Not that it had mattered even before.

The day hadn't been going well for Fran. She'd gotten into an argument with Shawn at the mechanics shop after she'd asked for a job there.

"You've got a ticket out of here, use it!" He'd yelled. "Why do you want to stick around this grease pit?"

She'd looked at him stunned, "You really don't know why? After all that happened? At the grotto..."

He looked confused, though a hint of realization might have been there, but he wasn't going to admit anything with his uncle within earshot. Shawn had pulled her outside, "It's a dirty job. You could go to a city where there is still a demand for office workers. They even have amenities, like central air and telephones. I thought you wanted to see the world."

Even when the words had come out of her mouth, she had wanted to cringe at the corniness of it all, but she couldn't help it as she'd yelled back, "You moron! You know damn well I wanted to travel with you, not by myself. If that's what you want, goodbye, I'm going to the Commission office to get assigned a posting far away. Just the way you want it!"

She'd run off before he could answer.

Fran weaved listlessly through Main, moderately busy with people on bikes and electric scooters, turning down Orange Street towards the police station and Commission office. Officer LeRoy noticed the distraught young woman and stepped out of the booth, "Y'all right there, Frannie?"

"Do I look all right?"

"Got into it again with Shawn? Want me to talk to him?" He asked.

"No, that's all right. I'm just blowing off some steam. Is the commissioner in?" She glanced at the small one story house that had been converted into an administration office. An old fashioned wooden sign was posted on the walk.

"Might be, but I haven't seen her all day," he scratched his chin. "Cashing in that pass already? It's good for a year. There's no rush. I got some ice tea chilling in the cooler, come on in."

She shook her head, "I changed my mind, I think I'll just go home."

Fran only made it a few meters before the hairs on her neck stood up: Melon Head was standing right in the middle of the street. Its bald dome was in full view, without a hat to cover it. Although it lacked anything that appeared to be eyes, its attention was directed right at her, planting her on her feet. She couldn't turn her head to even acknowledge Officer LeRoy who gave a half-hearted hallo before returning to his post. The Melon Head gave off a certain aura that irritated people it wanted to ignore. Others walking nearby averted their gaze but gave a polite nod of the head as they passed. Bikers simply weaved around the obstacle in the road.

Fran had never met Melon Head personally before but she felt calm, "Hello, can I help you?"

It perambulated closer on its leg stalks and was about a head shorter than her. It didn't have a mouth hole but she could clearly understand it as it spoke, "You have been chosen."

Her heart tried to jump but the odd calmness kept her from startling. She nodded, "Okay, what do I do?"

"You will follow me."

"All right," she took a step forward but the Melon Head raised an appendage. It was a thin stalk that appeared vegetal, like a curling vine.

"You must remove your clothes."

Fran pulled her arms up defensively. She looked around.

It insisted, "You must remove your clothes."

Blushing she looked down, about to refuse, but her hands were already moving. This didn't alarm her for some reason. Her head was a bit hazy but it wasn't unpleasant. In a few moments, she had stripped down, gathering up her clothes and shoes under her arm.

"Leave them," it commanded.

"O..Okay..." she stammered, kneeling down to set down her clothes on the sidewalk. The sun felt warm on her back. A sense of shame filled her yet it was deep and low, like background noise. Melon Head extended its ropy appendage, almost as if asking for permission. She nodded her head. It was like being examined by a curious animal and the Melon Head seemed incredibly fragile as if she could knock it over with the back of her hand, yet she let it grasp and probe her without restraint. It was quick but thorough like a medical exam and even more invasive. She didn't flinch, though she hoped LeRoy wasn't staring at her from the police booth.

"You are acceptable, follow me," he said. Meekly she trailed behind Melon Head as he strode off. In her mind, it was definitely a he as he had explored her as intimately as a lover. She worried about her abandoned clothes.

"You won't be needing them again," he stated with a certain finality.

Instead of shock or a sense of loss, something welled within her, almost like the sensation of freedom.

As they walked in full view, some people she knew recognized her yet only nodded with that half-averted gaze as if the strange aura around the Melon Head now enveloped her as well. Yet, she knew that they were fully aware of her nakedness. The shame was still there but distant and it didn't overwhelm her. She closed her eyes for a moment and breathed in the sweet air. It was the same as always, filled with earth, flowers, cooking food, and wood smoke.

Fortunately, she'd like to go shoeless when going out to the fields and forest so she already had some callouses on her feet but she'd never walked for so long or as far. Even though it was a small provincial town, the sun was getting lower by the time they reached the old railway bridge. She looked longingly to see if her friends were huddled at their spot underneath it. They reached a section of weathered asphalt, cracks filled with weeds, and turned into the trackless forest at a point that looked the same as any other. There was no path so she stepped carefully, underbrush tickling her legs and sides. She worried about scrapes but even as the foliage became denser she somehow avoided all nettles and thorns.

There was a hush as the dense trees blocked ambient noise, not that there was much in the fields around town although they did have some tractors. An almost autumnal light streamed through the canopy and she had to turn to the side at times to squeeze between the trees. Was she ever so keenly aware of her own flesh?

Every once in a while, a remnant of the past would break through the dense growth, including the rusting hulk of a double-decker bus. Fran was extra careful to avoid shards of glass or pieces of metal. Melon Head paused, beckoning her to walk faster.

Trusting its knowledge of some invisible path, she quickened her pace. Its striped shirt remained unmarred even as they squeezed through an especially thick thicket. The fronds tickled her but something seemed to keep them from deeply scratching her exposed skin. She felt strangely at home, almost comfortable as if crawling into her sheets at night. It was as if she was weaving herself into the embrace of the forest.

After some time, they finally reached a break in the trees and entered an open area resembling an alpine meadow except the alien kudzu and moss permeated everything. In the middle of the field, a stone edifice rose from the undergrowth like the foundation of a Mayan temple. She didn't need to be instructed to walk onto it. It seemed ancient, as if constructed thousands of years in the past, although she knew this was impossible.

Fran had lost track of her location but she knew the region was part of an urban sprawl less than two decades prior. As a child, she may even have been there before the change. The stone platform was flat except for a single odd protrusion shaped like an altar and for a brief moment she wondered if she was to be sacrificed on it. Melon Head touched her, indicating she should kneel. It used its appendages to guide her into a humiliating position on all fours. Once again, it examined her although the feeling was even more intimate this time.