It came from the landfill sites, or so the world thought. Some slow growing kind of mould that trapped whatever vaguely organic thing was in its way before moving onto the next one. By the time the papers got word of it and its locations (the active ones at least), it was well on its way to reaching the nearby cities.
They'd given it the nickname "Creep-o" for the way that its tendrils seemed to sniff the air, swaying and spasming when they got a hint of something alive. It never killed directly, preferring that its prey die slowly of starvation rather than a quicker and more merciful drowning. A technical drowning as nobody was quite sure what "Creep-o" was made of and if it possessed any kind of intelligence.
Unsurprisingly by the time local governments had gotten themselves together enough to attempt blocking "Creep-o" it was already at their doors, thinner but tougher. No matter how heavy the vehicles were it remained in shape, no matter what tools they tried to use to remove it the damn thing remained unmoveable.
Four years down the line from the first printed stories and "Creep-o" was thriving, the rest of the world less so. It had choked over sixty-five percent of European flora and was working its way up the fauna - humans included - working its way through Russia, Asia and gradually drifting over the seabeds to reach the next living thing.
Nothing was safe from them unless it was in the air. Self-sustaining sky cities were still works in progress but the world was more willing to die falling than starving and trapped up to their elbows in something they still barely understood. It was hard to do research when the pressure was more focused on survival against the threat rather than removing it. That would have to come when there were stable places to rebuild their laboratories.
All the while "Creep-o" grew and grew and grew, gradually crushing skyscrapers, cars and smothering entire islands with no end in sight. The world was eerily silent as those thick, deep green tendrils pulsed and writhed in the air, scenting for the next biggest meal with increasing difficulty.
It was only a matter of months before the sky cities would have to move further out. Eventually a total planetary exodus would be their only option as the world became nothing but a mass of the almost arm-like feelers sprouting out into the sky and towards the stars in search of more organic life to feed on and overwhelm just like it was doing with us.
They'd given it the nickname "Creep-o" for the way that its tendrils seemed to sniff the air, swaying and spasming when they got a hint of something alive. It never killed directly, preferring that its prey die slowly of starvation rather than a quicker and more merciful drowning. A technical drowning as nobody was quite sure what "Creep-o" was made of and if it possessed any kind of intelligence.
Unsurprisingly by the time local governments had gotten themselves together enough to attempt blocking "Creep-o" it was already at their doors, thinner but tougher. No matter how heavy the vehicles were it remained in shape, no matter what tools they tried to use to remove it the damn thing remained unmoveable.
Four years down the line from the first printed stories and "Creep-o" was thriving, the rest of the world less so. It had choked over sixty-five percent of European flora and was working its way up the fauna - humans included - working its way through Russia, Asia and gradually drifting over the seabeds to reach the next living thing.
Nothing was safe from them unless it was in the air. Self-sustaining sky cities were still works in progress but the world was more willing to die falling than starving and trapped up to their elbows in something they still barely understood. It was hard to do research when the pressure was more focused on survival against the threat rather than removing it. That would have to come when there were stable places to rebuild their laboratories.
All the while "Creep-o" grew and grew and grew, gradually crushing skyscrapers, cars and smothering entire islands with no end in sight. The world was eerily silent as those thick, deep green tendrils pulsed and writhed in the air, scenting for the next biggest meal with increasing difficulty.
It was only a matter of months before the sky cities would have to move further out. Eventually a total planetary exodus would be their only option as the world became nothing but a mass of the almost arm-like feelers sprouting out into the sky and towards the stars in search of more organic life to feed on and overwhelm just like it was doing with us.
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