The Parasite and the Moirommalit

Dennis L. Siluk

For every effect there is a source; and who shall have the right to possess it? It is a good question.
And to kill a killer, you must be a more sever killer, or be killed.

The Mosquito of Malaria

And so it may be asked by healers how one philosopher gets his immunity to a certain disease, and at what price; and there is always the upfront price, and the hidden price: you say: 'What source was it?' Aw yes, a good question. And so I shall answer it the best I can. And again we are led back to the planet of many odd characters, the planet called Moiromma; the planet whose residents have ended up on planet Earth throughout the ages; as well as ending up on most of the planets within our and their, solar systems.

There are a number of stories of Moiromma, the planet of ice, but in all its history, the most well known philosopher was Tfarcevol (I think you have most likely heard of him by now); otherwise known as Tig [for short], this is one of those stories.

Like a parasite with a dying tongue waiting to latch out at everyone and everything, as if the entity was created to kill, or so it acted, and held such a philosophy, was from the planet Moiromma. He had died several years after its king, Uhluhtc. Like many others from his world, he [he being: Ttg, or Tfarcevol] was stranded on earth, in none other than the Amazon basin. It was the year 1913. He acquired the resources to make him immune to the malaria disease, and used it for his own vindictive purpose. He, like his former colleges, were considered more beast than human, similar to a missing leak; a kind of brute monster of sorts. Tig being, as huge and strong looking as he was, was not uncommon for his kind; a scabby skin that protected him from the arctic like weather of his world; again, here was a world he ended up on, where he was a nobody and on Moiromma, well, he was well known: a Plato of sorts.

So Tig lived as he did, isolate, with few friends in the thick of the Amazon for some thirty years. For some reason he had a craving, like his predecessors, for the sweet flavor of flesh, and its hot blood. This flesh, human flesh was more than a luxury of protean, it seemed to give him energy, so much energy, it was hard to keep him calm, like a drug if you will, or possibly like alcohol, an addictive forming substance. He would get intoxicated with it; possessed by it; do almost anything to get it; obsessed if not dysfunctional when using it, and if he didn't have it he again would be dysfunctional. Most of the inhabitants who came to earth from Moiromma, enjoyed human flesh, but Tig craved it. It acted on him like there was no shutoff valve. And the thousands of his victims—their scattered bones were laying throughout the Amazon, up and down the Amazon; it was all his testimony to this champion of passions.

There was a $50,000-reward for him dead or alive; again I say, for in the thirty-years he had been responsible for 1134-deaths: cannibalism was his draw—his signature of sorts for the people of that vicinity to know it was his doings: again, he loved his trade so much, to the point of sucking out all the bone marrow of his victims, and countless malaria victims he went out of his way to infect and stranded in the world of delirium. Oh I suppose for his race, this was not unusual, but for humankind it was not acceptable, tolerable. And so Tig made, that is, had made, a deal with Aznar the Demon, to talk to the mosquito in its immune system language, a language of the body: a genetic language not knowable by most, and so a deal was made, and Tig would supply one-hundred bodies to the mosquitoes, so they could have a feast, this was their price, a supply of blood; and for the demon, Aznar, the price was an invitation to his planet, to give him explicit instructions of its whereabouts; and whom he knew, so he could at a later date play his whimsy games should he lack amusement here on earth. He even gave him Jokaneen's name, telling him she was responsible for Uhluhtc's death, and should he go there, to Moiromma, he might have fun with her, and cause her to commit suicide, which would make his day, and possibly she'd end up down here on earth. Ah, yes! then you should had seen his face turn a hefty smile. He like that plan so much he started opening his eyes wider and wider, and let out a vast amount of hissing "…sssssssssssssss."

To Kill a Killer

The problem now was not over for the demon and his cohorts, the mosquitoes; nothing is ever so easy as giving a gun to a minor, and saying: take care. And Tfarcevol was just that with his poisonous insides. Matter of fact, he was dangerous, like an atomic bomb on both sides of the wall, both the demon world and the insect clan, as they now pondered about their own doom; the doom of the malaria mosquito, and its instinctive-ness to survive. How could this be, one may say, oh it is so. Fear ran for a month up and down the backs of all involved that is all but Tig. He was the only one that knew the mosquito's secret to destruction, as now did Aznar (as he was heavily thinking of Jokaneen of Moiromma ((but did devote time to the other problem of the immune system of the mosquitoes)).

Agaliarept, a general from Hell, hearing that Tig had this cursed formula was even more upset than Aznar, and insisted he find a way to neutralize Tig, before he neutralized the Malaria Mosquito, and then what, 5% of mankind's suffering would be eliminated, and Lucifer, the archangelic being, would get mad that he didn't do a thing to stop this mess. What was the means to kill him, thus, one needed to either infect his immune system for better or worse. But their system, the system of the Moirommalite was not the same as humans.

To the insects, Tig was just a big parasite—but now they were being fed information of danger into their systems, like a dog that has been hurt, his whole body takes in a hundred signals: so they were absorbing the demons transmitting fear signals. The main single being: "Extinction!"

If he was the only one with the capability of sustaining life with this infection inside his body, should he eliminated the capability to resist plasmodium infection he would be the only one capable of surviving, thus, he could give death to the death givers.

With the spell of a wizard and the craft of the devil, Aznar had his friend Buer transform into a mosquito and then when Tig was sleeping, bit him with a transfusion of a deadly chemical that would switch off production of the productive parts that protect the parasite from its own poison, once that ability was neutralized, or eliminated, the ability to transmit was nil, death perused. And with that fatal bite, Tfarcevol never again woke up.

—Moiromma Cells

But let me explain a little about the Moiromma cell system; for Tfarcevol knew it well. But like so many haunting and brilliant scientists, forgot about the existence of others versus his scientific goals; and thus, sacrifice was open-ended, and he also was subject to life's weaknesses, such as addiction.

The Moriommaion citizen's acquired a new structured system, it was done so his race would survive; for at an earlier date, the planet was abandoned in fear of total extinction, if not by famine by other means. As a result, the remaining resident's cellular structure was modified. Yes, chromosomes, DNA, RNA and so forth (synthesis). Tfarcevol had taught this to his pupils so this is how I know. Anyhow, the ones who escaped the planet were mostly the elites, the ancient Moriommaion. Again I must say even one simple cell could be synthesized, and was to create their new system that involved a number of factions (and produced the ability to: time travel, thermostat body adjustments, and behavior modification to a more aggressive soul; all meant for survival purposes on a planet that was most injurious).

These creators were of carbon, oxygen, nitrogen, and phosphorous and so forth, like humans in many ways, but again with modifications as I have stressed thus far. These new alterations caused the atoms to jump from one state to another; also modification took place in molecules as well; artificial as I have noted before. In a way it was a meaningless piece of chemistry. A peaceful race turned into a maddening race. One might think it was better to leave them die out in peace, rather than allow them to move on and be a menace to their own people at times, their own planet and to the two solar systems thereabouts. But it was as it was.

These mortal beings, semi-inorganic—I am hardly adequate to go beyond this; as a human I am suspicious, but they were not of demonic substance, pure nucleic acid, or DNA I assure you, different yes, and in some manner significantly more efficient to be quite frank. And as we've now seen in this last story, could not endure all the elements of earth, just as well as not being able to endure their own Planet at times, or Mercury. So life no matter where you are sent has it trials and tribulations.

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