Diaspora I never knew Ed Hulver that well. I was friends with his little brother, Frank, so he had always seemed a bit of a distant figure to me. As we had grown up, I never really got the chance to get to know him, as by the time he would have considered me worth talking to, he was leaving for university, and by the time he was back, I was leaving myself. Nevertheless, I had a kind of nodding relationship with him. If I saw him in the pub, I'd buy him a drink. But it was his brother who was really my friend, so when I got a call from Ed, asking if he could talk to me about Frank, I was a bit taken aback. You see, Frank Hulver had died 6 months ago. ~~~~~ I'd lost touch with Frank a little when we'd gone to different universities. Oh, we kept in touch in the holidays, but we had new, and currently more exciting, friends to keep in touch with. I guess it's always the way - you don't want to be tied to your home anymore, but you get a bit free with the knife as you cut those ties away. It made hearing he had died that little bit worse, because, in my own, selfish way, I started to wonder if maybe it was because I hadn't kept in touch, maybe I could have stopped all this. No-one really knew why Frank died. The cause of death was clear - he was found in his student flat, starved, emaciated, and dead. But the confusing part was why he was starved. He wasn't trapped, had no other injuries, and in fact there was food in the flat. There were suspicions of suicide, but it takes a special kind of will-power and bloody mindedness to kill yourself with starvation. Besides, he had been seen in the weeks and days proceeding his death eating heartily with friends, though he did look thin and pale. Eventually they decided he must have had some sort of digestive system failure, but I think it was more a guess than a fact. ~~~~~ I met Ed in a pub. I'd chosen it as neutral ground. But when I saw him approaching, I was glad for another reason: Ed looked like he needed a very large drink. I sent him to the nook I had commandeered, and went to the bar. Looking at Ed, I was reminded of Frank. They both were, or in Frank's case had been, stocky. Ed wasn't fat, but he wasn't exactly lean, either. I shook my head as I brought the whisky over to him. It was still almost unbelievable that Frank had just wasted away. I sat opposite Ed across the small, dingy pub table. He was obviously distracted and jittery. In the short time I'd been at the bar, he had methodically shredded one of the beermats, sprinkling its remains into the ash tray. He was starting on a second already. "Look, Ed, I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to speak to you at the funeral. You know I liked Frank, and I was really sorry to hear of his..." Ed looked up, sharply. "Go on, say it," he said, "say you're sorry he died." His eyes blazed as he looked at me, rocking me back in my seat. "Well, I am." He kept staring at me. "Look, I don't know if I can be of help to you. Perhaps some sort of counselling to help you.." I trailed off as Ed started to smirk. "You don't know the half of it. I could cope with him dying, but this..." I looked aghast at Ed. "Ed, you have to face it, you have to understand. Frank's gone, he's..." "NO! He hasn't! That's the problem!" At this outburst, half the pub turned to look at us, before getting back to the business of drinking. "What do you mean, Ed?" I was worried. The last thing I wanted was a scene with a bereaved man. "Look," he said, leaning forward and lowering his voice, "there's some things I need to explain to you. When Frank died, the police called me in to formally identify the body. It was horrible, really horrible. You know what he was like, he was built like me. But when I saw him..." Ed was looking right through me, replaying the scene in his mind, his eyes troubled. "He was barely there. He was jut skin and bones, lying on that slab..." Ed shook himself slightly. "But there was more. When the police realised it wasn't murder, I had to go and clear out his belongings from his flat. Under his bed, there was a tape recorder. This was in it." At this, Ed produced an old style Walkman from his coat, and pulled a cassette from inside, before slotting it back in. "Look, Ed, if Frank liked to record, well, you know, I don't..." "What? Oh, don't be an idiot. He was recording a message. He did it just before he... well. Look, just listen." He shoved the Walkman across the table. I recoiled slightly. Did I really want to hear this? But Ed's eyes were boring into me. I couldn't refuse. I picked up the earphones, settled them in my ear, and pressed play. And Frank spoke. ~~~~~ "... can never figure out if this thing is on... let me see... Ah! "Right. I should be talking to Ed. I've listed you on the next of kin form at university, because I want you to hear this, not our parents. Trust me on this. If you're playing this where they can hear, stop the tape now! "Ok, then. I have finally figured out I am going to, well, not be around much longer. So, I'm going to try to explain what has been going on. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin. "It all started a couple of months ago. I'd been playing rugby... hey, did I tell you I was picked for the university third team? That's pretty good going, you know. Er, anyway, I had been playing rugby, and my calf had been raked in a ruck. Hurt like hell at the time, but I cleaned it up and put a bandage on, and figured that would be the last of it. I forgot about it for a couple of hours, but then my leg really started to throb. Stabbing pains, too. "So I took the bandage off. I guessed I'd managed to get it infected, but it didn't look like it. There was some blood oozing out, but it was clean, and fresh. The problem was that my calf was swelling up underneath. I had no idea why, at the time. I cleaned it, put the bandage back on, took some aspirin, and tried to forget about it. "But by the next day, it was worse. I hobbled back to the sports centre, and visited the medic. He looked puzzled at the rather sizeable lump forming on my leg too, but he just smeared it with antiseptic cream and redressed it, telling me it was just an infection. I didn't bother going back. "It was probably a good thing I didn't. By that night, I was in agony. I'd had enough, and decided I needed to lance this lump. So I went out, and bought some razor blades... Hey, do you know how hard it is to get the old style razor blades these days? "Um, anyway, I sat down in my bedroom, and plunged the blade into the lump. Well, to be honest I wussed out. I only managed to nick it. Unfortunately, that was enough. As I sat, and cursed, the pain got worse. I looked down, and... "Now, look, Ed, I don't want you getting the wrong idea here. I'm not nuts, I’m really not. But I swear to you, I looked down at this cut, and it was getting bigger. It was getting bigger because... because there was a tiny hand reaching through it. From the inside. "Yes, I know. It's crazy. But this was happening. "This tiny hand was joined by another, and together they pulled the cut wider, until a tousled haired head joined them. And then...it looked up at me, and it winked. I swear, it winked at me, clambered out of my leg, and legged it across the floor. It went behind the wardrobe, and no matter how I tried I could not find it. "Yeah, ok, I know. This is cuckoo. But it happened. "As you can imagine, I was a bit subdued the next day. I mean, I couldn't tell anyone, straitjackets just don't suit me. I figured that was it, I didn't need to tell anyone, it was over. Yeah, right. "It happened again. But this time there were two of them. And it kept happening. "I didn't notice at first, but I was losing weight. I kept eating, you know what my appetite is like, and if anything it got bigger. But the weight was falling off me. "I finally realised, yes, I know I'm a bit slow, you try thinking clearly when bloody pixies or whatever are coming out your leg, I finally realised that the weight wasn't falling off me, it was clambering out and running behind the wardrobe. "And so here I am. I'm dying, I think. My vision is messed up, and my hearing too. I keep seeing things that aren't there, hearing things that aren't there. I guess it's the malnutrition. I don't know what to do. I just had to... "Oh God, my leg... There's another one... Aaaaaaah! Jesus, it hurts. “It's looking at me. Probably confused because I'm lying down, it doesn't know how to get off the bed... No, there it goes. Jumped off and scampered away. "Hell, I feel weak. I'll just put this down a moment... *clunk* "So tired... Aaaaaaaaah! Another one... I can't..." ~~~~~ I looked up at Ed. "But, this can't be... real. It can't be." "Don't stop now. It's not finished." ~~~~~ The tape runs silently for a while. Then, just audible, there is a strange kind of keening. Then a voice, a tiny voice, starts to speak. "Oh my God. I understand..." The voice is joined by others, many others, all the same. "I finally understand. The hallucinations..." ~~~~~ The tape clicked off, and I looked up at Ed, horrified. "But... My God. This is insane! This isn't possible!" "I know. I thought it was because he was dying, he just lost it, but... Well, like I said, I had to go and clear out his flat. When I got his stuff back to my place, they... came out of hiding. It's true. And... Well, see for yourself." With that, Ed reached, gently, into his coat again. And he brought out three tiny figures. "They're not all here, of course, I couldn't bring all of them." Ed's voice droned on, but I didn't catch any of it. I was staring at the figures, all identical, four inches high, with scraps of material for clothes. Looking at me. Then, they spoke, as one, a high pitched reedy voice. "Hi. I finally understood. The hallucinations were... well, I was seeing what I see, here, all these different tiny me's. I'm... We're Frank Hulver, and I am the little people!" I looked up at Ed, terrified, unable to process this, unable to cope. I was going into shock, deep, deep shock. "But... What..." "I know. But I had to tell you. I had to talk to you, and Frank said I should trust you." "What... Why me? Why did you have to tell me?" "Well, I need someone to look after Frank." "But you're his brother! You can do that! I want nothing to do with this!" "I would! I have been... but, well... I have this lump on my leg..."