The rain must have stopped overnight.
The insect shivered, feeling wings quiver over its back. Brad flew from beneath the shadow of the bench and explored the park.
The day was still fresh, but Brad admitted to feeling worried. He let his worries tumble through his thoughts as he began his fifth day as an insect, and his third morning waking in the park.
He never meant for his transformation to be anything but a lark. A half hour, at most, just gaining the experience of what it would be like as a tiny housefly, before zipping back to the Chronivac to await the restoration beam.
He’d never planned to leave his house. He’d never even entertained the notion. Not when outdoors meant spiders, bug-eating bugs, and birds, which were truly terrifying feathered monsters with snapping beaks and swift wingbeats.
He worried himself sick. His eyes swiveled around looking for signs of danger, which he imagined could come at him from any direction.
Fortunately, he had those enormous (relatively speaking) eyes at the front of his “face.” The pair of complex eyes made up much of his head. Each of the two eyes was composed of 3,000 to 6,000 simple eyes. Unlike with his human eyes, Brad can no longer focus in on the particulars of the environment around him. Instead, they provide an excellent mosaic view of everything to the left, right, front and even above.
He was sweating, figuratively, but if something ugly and hungry attacked, he’d likely have at least some advance warning.
He did pause to wonder how insects stand such constant, ominous tension? Wouldn’t the continual stress give them a quick heart attack or an utter mental collapse?
But that’s it. They exist moment to moment in complete ignorance of the perilous world around them as well as their unenviable place in that world. Not so for poor Brad, who is all too aware of the world and his new place in it. His overactive mind is fixated on both potential perils and obvious obstacles.
Then something intruded that he couldn’t quite label as peril or obstacle, but his fly senses registered excitement.
An officer with the San Francisco Police Department’s Mounted Patrol rode his steed through the park. Both horse and rider formed one united, monstrous entity, far bigger and more powerful than a puny housefly.
Brad had an idea. Unfortunately, so did the fly.
Brad wanted to land somewhere on the horse and gain an inconspicuous ride out of the park. With any luck, the equine might travel closer to his home.
The fly wanted to circle and zip closer, drawn by a tantalizing scent. The insect flew close to the horse’s rump. The nastier any scent, the more it appealed, apparently, to Brad's new fly senses.
The officer drew his mount to a stop, overlooking the park. Individual officers were asked to patrol some parks, to lend a presence that might deter any lawbreakers.
Brad looked upon the enormous horse and its massive rider as an unexpected opportunities.