The asteroid courses it's way through space, as it has done for over seven hundred and eighty thousand years. It was once a part of a moon, till three massive comets, each one veritably half the size of the moon, crashed into it almost simultaneously. The moon stood no chance against such an onslaught, and exploded into millions of pieces, each fragment propelled through space at an almighty speed.

The asteroid is one of those pieces, its brethren lost within accelerating space, maybe some of them found homes. The planet's atmosphere takes a hold of the asteroid and it can't resist its pull.

Within the pot-holed belly of the asteroid lives a single strain of protein, the protein needs oxygen to survive, and has actually developed a way of producing it. Not a lot, but enough to keep it going. The protein developed about thirty thousand years before the moon was obliterated, and given more time would no doubt have evolved further. Before the blast there were other proteins, different variations, all producing oxygen, the birth of life. The protein has spent so long alone now that evolution has forgotten it exists.

Pieces start breaking off the asteroid as it enters the planet's atmosphere, and it is engulfed in flames so hot that it starts to shrink rapidly. The protein realizes nothing at first, until the last moment when it finds it can't produce enough oxygen to feed the approaching, hungry flames. At the last second, just as the protein is about to suffer the same fate as most of the asteroid, the flames are gone and replaced by coursing oxygen.

The now boulder-sized asteroid hits the ground next to a river; the impact causes a crater that is instantly submerged by the ebbing waters. The protein is dislodged from its lifelong home, and it slides invisibly into the murky depths of the river. The little protein revels in the bountiful oxygen supply and can almost feel itself grow instantly stronger. The little protein's euphoria is suddenly cut short when a passing pike swallows it. The pike doesn't notice its uninvited guest, it's mind firmly set on finding a suitable ambush spot.

The protein enters the fish, and is absorbed instantly into the pike's flesh. The protein suddenly feels something, like a magnet urging it on, it almost has no choice in the matter as it moves into the fish's brain. Once in the brain, the protein begins to feed, not from the flesh but from it's very life force.

Within ten minutes, the perfectly healthy pike turns deadly onto its side and begins to float to the surface. The protein having experienced food for the first time learns extremely quickly that it wants more.

Several years pass by, and after feeding from more than half the wildlife in the river, the protein has evolved somewhat. It is now about the size of a five pence piece and has translucent flesh allowing you to see it's black, pin sized nucleus. The protein has evolved into a sort of amoeba, and has no realization of the harm it has caused. It has one simple pleasure, and it has no intention of stopping.

It had been a harsh winter, and the summer was offering too little to comfort the hawk, her stomach growling terribly through hunger. It was over a week ago now that she was forced to eat her own chicks. She'd had no choice; it was merciful for them because by now they would have died a painful death, such is the way with starvation. She circles again, scanning the farmland below. Seeing nothing, she flies toward the river.

The amoeba convulses its body, generating the momentum to move through the water in the hope of finding a host.

As the hawk circles the river she notices a carp swim dangerously close to the surface. She doesn't hesitate.

The amoeba rests on the surface of the water and is soon swallowed by a hungry carp attracted to the little black nucleus. At the very moment the carp swallows the amoeba the hawk swoops, and snatches up the carp in her beak. The carp struggles violently to escape so she lands quickly, and holding it down with her talons she begins to feed.

The amoeba sits in the carp's brain happily feeding away, when prematurely everything stops, the equivalent of a power cut at an all night rave. The amoeba seems to ponder for a moment its next move before absorbing itself into the carp's flesh and promptly being eaten by the hawk. The amoeba feels the usual pulling sensation, and without even realizing that it has been eaten by the hawk, begins to swim back to the brain.

The hawk savages the carp, eating every strand of flesh, even those she had dropped while in her shark-like feeding frenzy. Fully satiated, she decides to head back to the nest, maybe next season she'll be able to rear some more chicks.

The amoeba draws on the brain's life force, and is immediately aware of a difference in quality. The food has never tasted nor felt so good, it is though the food is offering something new, a new experience to be gained. It is a revelation to the amoeba, as for the first time in its life it can actually see. The amoeba realizes quickly that it has somehow ended up inside a different kind of creature, a creature with a far greater supply of food, a far greater supply of knowledge.

The hawk suddenly feels weak and she looks down with aged eyes at her feathery coat. Most of her feathers have gone grey, and she sobs in surprise, taking to the air.

The amoeba has learned to recognize when a host is about to run out of food, and likes to make its escape before the host fills with the toxic gasses. The amoeba discovered the hard way the potency of these gasses, and somehow knows that it was lucky to live on more than one occasion. The amoeba takes the circuitous route into the hawk's mouth and tries to wriggle itself out. The hawk tastes the bitterness of the amoeba and screeches it out of her mouth, she doesn't even notice as the amoeba hurtles downward, she doesn't notice because by the time the amoeba hits the ground her heart will have stopped beating.

The amoeba hits the ground... and rolls, its gelatinous flesh acting as an adhesive on the dusty floor. The amoeba tries to convulse itself, but strength that took years to accomplish travelling through water is no match for the layers of dirt covering its entire flesh. It will be several months before the amoeba will feed again.