# The Android

My name is Marco. People call me Marco the Magnificent. Mar-velous Marco. The Amazing Marco. And of course, all the girls just call me ... gorgeous. Okay, maybe I've never actually heard anyone call me gorgeous, but I am confident that someone, somewhere, must have called me gorgeous at some point. Or not. But definitely cute. I've heard "cute" with my own ears. And I'll soon be hearing it a lot more because I've made a major change. I've cut my hair. Or at least my stylist, Charise, cut it for me. That's right, Charise. And according to Charise, my cuteness quotient has risen from a nine to a definite ten.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. I was telling you that my name is Marco. I can't tell you my last name. I forgot it.

No, not really, I'm kidding. I know my last name.

I'm just not going to tell you. And I'm not going to tell you the complete names of my friends or where I live.

What I will tell you is the truth.

All except for that part about "magnificent" and "marvelous."

Everything else I tell you will be true. I know it will seem incredible. But it will be the absolute truth.

Let's start with the reason why I won't tell you my last name: I have enemies. We all sorta do.

But these guys are very powerful, very dangerous enemies. Not like the guy in your class who keeps calling you "dork-wad." And if they knew who I was, I'd be dead so fast I wouldn't even know I was dead. The Yeerks don't play games.

The Yeerks don't worry about pity or kindness.

They don't care that I'm just a kid. The Yeerks plan to enslave or destroy the entire human race.

They won't hesitate to roll right over little old me.

The Yeerks aren't just my enemies, though.

They are the enemies of every human being. The enemies of Earth itself. And they are everywhere.

They're a parasitic species. Think tapeworms.

That's what they are, when you get right down to it: intelligent tapeworms.

They are slugs, just a few inches long. They enter the human body through the ear canal. Once inside, they flatten themselves out and wrap themselves around your brain. They squeeze into all the folds and wrinkles of your brain and tie into your thoughts.

They take over. They make you into what we call a Controller. A human machine. A body whose own, true mind is shattered and helpless.

That's the special horror of the Yeerks. They don't just take over your mind and eliminate you.

You continue to be aware. You continue to be conscious.

You sit there in your own head watching the Yeerk open your memory, watching the Yeerk fool your friends and family, watching the Yeerk turn the people you love into the same kind of slave you've become.

You try to move your hand, but you can't. You try to make your mouth speak, but you can't. You don't even control what your eyes look at. That's what it's like.

My mother is one of them. A Controller.

For a long time, we thought she had died. I believed she had drowned. But I learned later that she was still alive.

A very powerful Yeerk had taken her body. I don't even know how long she was a Controller before she disappeared. I don't know how many times her good-night kiss was the action of a Yeerk trying to pass as a human.

She is Visser One now. A Visser is a sort of Yeerk warlord or general. Visser One launched the secret invasion of Earth.

Visser Three is now in charge.

Visser One, in my mother's head, took off after faking her death by drowning. She's somewhere now . . .

maybe millions of miles away.

No one knows about my mom but me and my best friend, Jake. I don't want the others to know. I don't want their pity.

The Yeerks are here. Everywhere. Not just my mother, but maybe yours, too. Maybe your teacher, maybe your best friend, maybe everyone around you. When you get together with family and friends, you may be the only one in the room who is not a Controller.

That's why we fight them. We Animorphs.

I made up that word, by the way. Pretty cool, huh? Animorphs. Just popped into my head.

Animal morpher.

See, not every alien in the universe is a Yeerk.

The universe has its heroes, too. It was one dying, doomed Andalite who gave us our power to acquire the DNA of any animal and then to become that animal.

His name was Elfangor. He, and a lot of other Andalites, died trying to save Earth from the Yeerks.

So for him, and for all the people of Earth, we fight, hoping to slow the Yeerks down enough so that the Andalites will have a chance to come again and save us all.

Who is "we"? Well, there's me, Marco the Magnificent.

Then, there's Rachel-who-thinks-she's-Xena.- Warrior Princess.

And there's Tobias, the Bird-boy. And Cassie, the tree-hugger. And Ax, our resident Andalite.

And of course, our fearless leader, my boy, Jake.

My way-too-serious best friend Jake.

Responsible, practically adult Jake.

Jake, who grinds my nerves with his total refusal to just have a good time.

"Look," I said to Jake, "it's not a crime or anything. There is absolutely no law against dogs going to outdoor concerts. They don't have a ticket for dogs."

"You know, Marco, the point of morphing is not for us to get into concerts," Jake said.

We were walking down one of the streets of our subdivision. We'd shot some hoops down at the outdoor basketball court, and now Jake was dribbling the ball as we walked.

"Nine Inch Nails. Alanis. Offspring," I said.

He stopped and stared at me. "Marco?"

"Yeah?"

"What happened to your hair, man?"

"You're just noticing? Looks cool, huh?"

Jake just stared. "Offspring?" he asked.

"You're sure Offspring will be there?"

I could see him weakening. He was dribbling slower.

"I hear they are so great live. They kick. They dominate. They crush all opposition under foot.

They rule. They -"

"Marco, after I've criticized Rachel and Cassie for using morphing for personal reasons, I can't just -"

"Who's going to tell them?" I argued. I ran my fingers through my new, shorter hair. It was cool-looking. I wasn't even going to pay attention to the way Jake just stared at it. It looked cool.

"I'd be a hypocrite," Jake said.

I thought for a moment. "You know, Jake . . . I have long suspected that Alanis may be a Controller. And, as a Controller, think of the damage she could do by leading young, impressionable kids like us astray. Oh, I hate to even think of it! We have a duty, Jake. We have a sacred duty to go to that concert and to find out once and for all whether any of these major stars are Controllers."

Jake smiled his slow smile. "That is easily the most pathetic excuse you have ever come up with."

I laughed. "Get serious. I've come up with lots of more pathetic excuses than that."

We were almost at Jake's house, so we stopped.

Jake's brother Tom is one of them - a Controller. We don't talk inside his house.

"You know," Jake said, "the only possible way I could go along with this is if I found out you were going to this thing anyway. Then, see, I'd have to go along -- reluctantly -- just to watch your back."

Jake may be responsible and all, but he isn't a total forty-year-old.

I grinned. "Jake, I'm going to this concert, whether you like it or not."

"Then I guess I'd better go, just to cover your butt," Jake said. "You'll have to figure out how to cover that hair."

I made a face. "Real funny."