Inak skipped meals without realizing. Slept less than he should. All for the seminar. He didn't care. He needed that seminar to go well, it had to. But through all the papers, all the notes, and underlined phrases… one thought kept circling: Sacculina carcini… that book he picked up the other night. A small thing. Almost a throwaway read. But the idea had nested in his mind.
It wasn't just the biology of it that fascinated him, it was the implication.
Sacculina is a parasite that infects crabs. It doesn't just live inside them… it takes control. The parasite infiltrates the crab's body through a small joint, then spreads like roots, targeting the reproductive system. Once embedded, it begins to hijack the crab's hormones and behavior. The crab stops reproducing. It stops acting like itself. It becomes, quite literally, a walking shell, still alive, still moving, but no longer in control.
The sacculina feeds off whatever the crab eats, directs its actions, and even manipulates it into caring for the parasite's own offspring.
In other words, the crab loses its free will. It loses its identity…
That idea wouldn't leave him.
He was sitting at his desk, across from the bed. staring at the wall as the thought unfolded.
What if it could infect a more complex host? He thought with a pen in his mouth.
What if something like that could exist on a human scale? What if it could take over a person's entire system… the nervous system, the memories, the endocrine responses, the full biology? What if it could take over so seamlessly, so precisely… that it thinks it is the host?
Now the host could even die in the process. And the parasite would keep on living the host's life, thinking it had been the infected person.... It would make every decision the person would make, the same personality, the same entire life!
Every habit, every thought, every small detail… Wouldn't it still be the same person?
As he kept going at it. He finally realized that it wasn't death he feared. Not exactly. It was the idea of disappearing.
The idea of losing himself, his identity… Losing whatever 'Inak' is… But then... what is 'Inak'?
What made him 'him'?
His heart slowly started pounding… he could feel each beat in his eardrums. Then, out of nowhere, a surge of urgency hit him. A rush. He had the sudden urge to just get up… to move, to run, to just get out.
He realized fast... that he's having another panic attack. But this time, he was ready. He had a container of Propranolol, something he got to calm the anxiety. It was next to the little cabin by his bed.
He tried to stand, but his grip failed. The cane slipped. He slammed onto the floor, face-first. His nose took the hit…hard. He could smell blood, but none came out. The side of his face was pressed against the carpet. It was rough and scratchy. He started crawling toward the cabin.
Everything was a blur. His heart was racing. The room felt tilted. He reached out, searching for the container. Fingers brushing wood. Nothing… Then a sound of plastic clink.
He had dropped it. Behind the cabin. Gone… he froze. Just lying there. He felt hopeless. Then, without warning, he started crying. Not just tears. Full-on sobbing, heavy breathing… Like a kid looking for his mother. He curled up on the floor. And eventually, he passed out.
---
He woke up early. Way too early, almost three hours before the seminar.
He got up, took a shower, and got dressed. Made his way to the kitchen and poured some coffee.
Then he just stood there, staring at the brown bubbles floating on the black surface of the coffee. No thoughts. Blank mind. He finished it with a cigarette or two. Out on the balcony. Once he was done, he went down and got into his car.
"Eight hundred people… two years ago. Eleven hundred last year. Expect about fifteen hundred this time," Inak said under his breath, with a small sigh. He started the car and headed to the department.
He felt normal, as if nothing had happened. He drove like any other day. He reached the department and stepped out. Black charcoal suit, with a deep pattern. Fancy tie. Crisp white shirt. Inak wore watches. Always had. He liked the weight of one on his wrist, he was used to the feeling. So of course, he was wearing one today. A clean gold watch.
He looked sharp.
Next to the department building was the big theatre room. Built for events like this.
He stepped in through the back of the stage. No rehearsals. No notes. He was ready.
There were four major seminars lined up, each about an hour and a half long.
He was first. The seminar starts at 9:30. He checked the clock: 8:52. He still had time, so he sat on one of the chairs backstage.
One thing Inak enjoyed in moments like this was music.
He'd put on a track, close his eyes, lean back… and very slightly bop his head.
It was the only thing that could touch him emotionally.
His father was a musician. Apparently a famous one. But he never really knew him.
His mother used to tell him stories… on how they met, what he was like…
But Inak never met the man.
She said he died of some illness before Inak was born.
That was the story.
He found out the truth later as he grew up. His father hadn't died of illness, he had taken his own life.
But it didn't really matter to Inak. At least not in any dramatic way. It was just... information.
He had a few of his father's songs in his playlist.
Not as a keepsake. Not for sentiment.
He just liked the music. It was good.
And Inak respected anyone who did their job well.
---
"…frdhie…"
"…Freddie."
"…FREDDIE!"
A voice cut through the loudness of the music.
It was Melody. She stood there in an elegant suit. Amazing hair, as usual.
He liked how she looked. He smiled.
"What's up with the fancy suit?" he asked, admiring her looks.
She smiled back. "I'll be joining you on stage. Just in case you need help. Plus, I'll be doing the announcements... come on, it's about time," she said, offering a hand as she helped him up.
Melody stepped onto the stage, her heels sharp against the wooden floor. She took the mic with ease and faced the crowd.
"Please welcome," she began, her voice clear and confident, "on behalf of the Hillius Institution… Doctor Fredrick Inak."
This was it.
This wasn't just another talk. It wasn't just the crowd, though that alone was massive. It was the department. The faculty. The board. They were all watching.
He could hear the applause from backstage.
Then it stopped.
Inak stepped forward.
tap… tap… tap
The cane striking the stage floor with each step. All eyes on him.
He moved to the center, looked out into the crowd…
At least five thousand… he thought, eyes scanning the rows.
He did the math… columns, groups, sections… quick estimates stacking in his head.
It was way more than he expected.
Inak stepped forward, steadying himself on the cane. He spoke into the mic… "Good morning. I apologize if you were expecting to see Doctor Lence. Unfortunately… he couldn't make it due to unforeseen circumstances.
Nevertheless… I am your host today.
My name is Dr. Fredrick Inak. I specialize in neurology and cancer research…" He lets the room breathe, eyes sweeping across the silent audience. "While conducting my research, I came across a peculiar phrase…
It asked:Is the coughing in response to a cold germ your body's attempt to expel the infection from your lungs… or is it the parasite inducing a tickling sensation in the throat… to encourage its own spread?"
He takes a few steps forward. "Let me give you another example.The hairworm." He taps the stage floor lightly with his cane. "Hairworms lay their eggs near water… on vegetation, beside ponds, streams, anywhere moist enough really. The eggs hatch into microscopic larvae. Once infecting a host, which is usually a grasshopper or a cockroach… they wait, they grow inside. And finally… It takes control. It hijacks the insect's nervous system. No metaphor. No exaggeration. Actual, physical takeover. The parasite overrides the host's decision-making"
He clicked the remote.
Behind him, a slow-motion video showed a cricket trembling at the edge of a pond… then jumping in.
"In water, the hairworm exits the host's body. Fully grown. The insect drowns. The worm swims away. The cycle is complete."
"Now here's what truly haunts me…"
He tilts his head, eyes fixed somewhere in the middle distance, as if asking the room… or himself.
"Is the host aware of what it's going through?
Or…
…does it mistakenly perceive the desires of the parasite as its own?"
"And then there's the other case…
Sacculina.
It targets crabs… specifically their reproductive systems. Once inside, it hijacks the crab's hormonal and neurotransmitter pathways… slowly shutting the crab down.
To an outside observer, the crab looks… normal. It walks. Eats. Responds to stimuli. It even continues its daily tasks. But inside… the thing that made it a crab is gone."
"It's... no longer... a crab..."
Inak's voice trailed off, each word quieter than the last.
His eyes unfocused. The buzzing started in his ears, the slight pressure in his chest, the tightening in his throat.
Just keep going.
Just keep talking…
Melody noticed it. She reached him, gently placed a hand on his shoulder.
Just that.
Inak blinked.
A quick inhale through his nose.
"…but it moves, it eats, it reacts... it even mates," he continued, as if nothing happened.
The seminar went on for about another hour. Despite his stumbles, Inak held the room. Melody watched from the side, half proud, half worried. But he made it. He took a small breath and leaned on the podium.
"Thank you all for being here today, questions are welcome. Please… be my guests." A wave of hands shot up immediately. He gestured to the front row.
"Do hairworms affect all insect species or just specific ones?"
"What are the ethical implications of studying behavior-altering parasites in mammals?"
"Is it possible to engineer parasites for medical use?"
Inak answered each one smoothly. Somehow, in just a few days of research, he spoke with the confidence of someone who had spent years in the field.
As the questions neared completion, one last hand rose, near the back. A woman stood up. Early thirties. Confident posture, researcher's badge hanging from her shirt. "Hello Doctor Inak," she said with a polite smile. "First of all, incredible presentation. Thank you for your insight… truly fascinating."
He nodded slightly, acknowledging her.
"I'm currently working on a study involving parasitic behavior in arthropods," she continued, "and your examples really resonated. But I wanted to ask something broader, maybe even speculative."
She paused.
"Is there any known parasite… that could, potentially or even theoretically… infect humans the same way? I mean... behaviorally. Something that could alter our decisions, the way we think, like the hairworm does to insects. Or Sacculina to crabs"
"Yes, actually… "
Inak answered, as he glanced around the audience.
"In fact, I see some of you carrying it right now." Pointing to a pregnant woman.
A few quiet chuckles could be heard through the hall, but Inak didn't smile.
"I mean... think about it. A fetus."
"Isn't that technically just a parasite? It feeds off the host. It takes nutrients. It alters hormone levels. It can even change the mother's brain chemistry. Cravings, emotional shifts, metabolic adaptations… the body rewires itself for the sake of another organism growing inside it."
He sighed, rubbing his temple. "But I suppose you're referring to something more… classic. A traditional parasite. The kind that nudges behavior without the host even noticing. Yeah. There are some. Toxoplasma gondii, for instance. It infects rats. It makes them attracted to the smell of cat urine. Completely flips their survival instinct just so it can get into the cat's gut and reproduce."
He paused.
"And it can infect us too. Humans. Most people don't even know they have it. It can Cause impulsive behavior, changes in reaction times, even increased risk of schizophrenia. Subtle stuff. You'd never trace it back unless you were looking."
"However, if you're thinking of a parasite that can completely take over the mind… no… not really…Our systems… are far too complex for that…" He said it… but the words came out slower, as if something in him had started to second-guess that claim even before it finished leaving his mouth.
She did mention theoretically… Inak thought "Wait... could it...?" His mouth hung slightly open, mid-sentence, no longer speaking. Then he blinked hard. "That's it. Thank you all for your attention." And without waiting for applause, he turned and rushed backstage.
The audience started clapping as he stepped away from the podium. But Inak barely heard it. He was already moving, weaving through the curtain, backstage, his mind racing. He moved way too fast for a cripple—his cane barely kept up with him. He didn't know if he was excited, or nervous, or just… activated. He had an idea and he needed to do something with it before it slipped away.
Melody followed close behind, catching the strange look on his face.
"Freddie?" she called out, quickening her pace. "Hey, are you okay?"
He stopped. Turned to her. "Parasites!" he said. "I had a vivid image last night… but now I think I got it!"
Melody blinked, confused. "Wait, what?"
"I'll head outside for a bit," he said, brushing past her gently. "I just need… to hold onto this thought."
He stepped outside, the door swinging shut behind him with a dull thud. His cane clacked once against the concrete before he leaned on the wall and dug into his coat pocket.
Notebook.
Pen.
He flipped to a blank page with shaking hands. Then he began, furiously scribbling every term, every name, every cell organelle he could recall. Neuropeptides. Serotonin transporters. Microglia. Gut-brain axis. Astrocytes. Toxoplasma. Prions. Mirror neurons. Oxytocin. Epigenetics. Olfactory cues. Reward systems. Cortisol spikes. Every molecule, impulse, neurotransmitter, reflex arc, and cellular structure… every single detail he could come up from the buried depths of memory.
The wind tugged at the page, but he pressed it down, still writing, page after page. His brain wasn't thinking linearly anymore... it was everywhere, almost like a spiderweb of thoughts forming faster than he could even write. He wasn't outlining a theory. He was mapping.
Melody's voice echoed faintly from inside as she introduced the next seminar.
But he barely heard it.
He was too busy thinking, scribbling, crossing out, rewriting. Planning.
---
Hours had slipped by. One seminar rolled into the next until they all concluded. Melody stepped off the stage after her final session, glancing at the clock—just past 1 PM. She hadn't seen Inak since then.
She went outside. The sun was unbearable, and the air had thickened with heat. She saw a few people under trees, some scrolling through their phones on the grass. As she scanned the courtyard, her eyes landed on him.
There he was… on a bench, still writing. He hadn't stopped.
Pages were spread beside him, weighed down by his bag. Some were smudged where his hand had dragged through half-dried ink. She walked up, cautiously. "Freddie?". No response.
His pen kept moving… then she noticed the thin white cord trailing from his ears. Earphones. He hadn't heard her.
She then reached down and picked up one of the papers. At first, it was a mess. Scattered terms, half-sentences, arrows looping back on themselves. But then she started to see it—patterns.
Words like parasite mimicry, gut flora manipulation, limbic hijack, neurochemical conditioning. It was … a blueprint. A full map of a human. She looked back at him. And he noticed… as he met her gaze, "You're reading it," he said softly. Not angry. Not embarrassed. Almost… pleased.
Melody didn't answer right away. She looked down at the page again, then back at him.
"What is all this?" She blinked. "Freddie… this is all from today?"
He smiled faintly. "The question you asked me the other day… I haven't stopped hearing it since." He tapped the side of his head. "It's still echoing."
Melody blinked, trying to make sense of it. "What question? What are you saying? What are you even trying to do?"
Inak paused for a moment. Then said "It's nothing to worry about…" He sighed, running a hand through his hair.
Melody looked at him, her voice gentle but firm. "I must meet with the board... can we talk later?"
Inak nodded. "Of course. I'll be waiting here."
As she was heading back inside, a flicker of worry stayed with her. Something about him hadn't settled right. The funeral had left a mark. She could see it… in the way he has been lately, like he wasn't entirely here. She swallowed the concern and stepped back inside.
Outside, Inak reached into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette pack. Just as he was about to open it, his eyes caught the warning label: 'SMOKING KILLS.' A slow smile crept across his face. Without hesitation, he grabbed his pen, drew a single line through the word 'KILLS.'
He lit a cigarette, inhaled a long drag, and exhaled as if defying the warning itself.