The Unquiet Thought, Chapter 6
Feeling a little behind this week, sorry about the delay.
Chapter 6
By the time Sire (Thor?) returns, it is once again sitting in the open area of Sire’s floor. Next to it there is a small pile of books of different colors. It thinks it likes them, they are a comfortable weight to carry and Sire always smiles when he sees it with them. It has been looking at the markings inside that it does not understand.
There is some consistency to them, a pattern.
It looks up to the sound of the metal doors opening and closing, and Sire’s loud call of its name. Bags are deposited on the table and Sire pulls it up from the couch. Its book falls to the ground. It frowns.
“Come, Loki. I have purchased new garments for you. I am afraid your usual fare was somewhat lacking, though these items are comfortable and should suit until the proper attire can be found.” Sire foists a bag into its arms and moves it with hands on its shoulders. “Go. Change. I will dispose of these old ones when you are finished.”
Dispose?
The door of its room closes behind it.
Inside the bag it finds piles of cloth. One piece has small holes and circles that resembles what it has seen others in the Tower wearing. There is also some coarser fabric similar to its leggings. It is able to put these on without much difficulty. When there is a knock at the door, it opens it without thinking and watches Sire collect the material it had discarded and left on the bed.
It watches Sire walk away with its things.
-
The next morning it searches through the new material and puts on a large baggy piece of fabric. The clothing hangs off of it like a rumpled sack. It goes in search of a glass and water, and instead finds Sire who starts to smile but draws back to look at it with narrowed eyes before sweeping out of the room. It is confused.
Sire had creases on his face, which meant he was Not Pleased, but it is not sure what it had done to cause this. Should it not have left its room? Sire had been pleased the previous day, yes? Had it done something without noticing?
It goes back to its room without getting water and sits on its bed and thinks. Sire does not come back. It pulls on the fabric it is wearing.
It must have done something wrong.
Maybe it should ask someone.
(The lab is a safe place.)
It goes to find Mr. Stark.
-
It knocks on the clear panel separating it from the workshop. There is silence, and then the panel shifts. Dummy looks up from the table beside Mr. Stark. The machine makes its way over (it had heard Mr. Stark refer to the machine as He, but Dummy does not match its associations with the word, should it recalculate its definitions?) and closes his claw around its wrist, guiding it gently back to the table in time for Mr. Stark to blink over at it in confusion, eyes running down its body and back up again.
“Hey, buddy. What’s up?”
Up? It looks at the ceiling. Mr. Stark makes a noise that is a little like Sire when he is pleased.
“Why did you come for a visit? Need help with something?”
“No, ah- Sire left, for Space.”
“Oh?”
“I do not like Space.”
“… oh.”
It looks at the table, which is riddled with tools, because Mr. Stark is watching it in a way that makes it anxious.
“May I stay here?”
“Yeah- yeah, that’s fine. Why don’t you- um… Dummy,” the machine looks up. “Be distracting. Or- wait-” Dummy, who had already been on his way to the corner of the lab, presumably to get something distracting, turns to Mr. Stark again. “We’re going to learn things. Take a seat.”
Loki does.
Mr. Stark touches a screen and the air around them lights up. He talks.
When the patterns that it had seen in the books float in the air, Loki stands quickly.
“Those,” it says, pointing. “What are those?”
Mr. Stark gives it a crooked disbelieving smile. “Aww, baby. We are going to have so much fun.”
-
It spends hours curled up on the couch with a tablet and head phones learning to Read. Mr. Stark had explained the concepts, using the screens to pull up what looked like the patterns in Loki’s Books except they were larger and had less of the shapes. Patterns had logic behind them, it could see that, and it wasn’t long before Mr. Stark had given it the materials it had needed to explore on its own.
“You’re smart, right?” He had said. “You can probably work out the basics yourself. Let me know if you think you’re missing something. We’ll quiz later and then I can get you something more fun.”
“Thank you, Mr. Stark.”
“Yeah, stop calling me that. It’s Tony.”
-
It has so many words now. It wants more.
-
“What time is it?” Mr. Stark (Tony) looks up a few hours later. “I should eat lunch. Is it lunch? When was the last time I ate… Dummy, get me a smoothie.”
It lifts up one of the tools, running its fingers over the pointed edges.
“That’s a screwdriver,” Mr. Stark tells it. Screwdriver, it commits the word to memory. Runs its finger over the surface of the table, spelling out the letters.
Later, Dummy returns with a glass that is filled with a green something that reminds it of… a thing it thinks it has seen before, but cannot recall the word for. It stares at the smoothie where the machine (he) had left it on the table and thinks and thinks and thinks until there is a nudge at its side and it sees Dummy looking at it.
Mr. Stark takes a drink from the glass. It turns back to him.
“Have I done something wrong?”
The sound Mr. Stark makes mid-drink is alarming and it is by his side before it realizes it has stood up. It is shooed away and sits down hesitantly, ready to be on its feet again if needed.
“Wrong? Why would you think you’ve done anything wrong?”
“Sire is upset with me.” It picks up another of the tools on the table, examines the handle. “He left me behind today on purpose; it was not- it is not like Space. I misled you earlier, I apologize.” It picks at the tool. “It is worse than Space, Space does not anger him.”
“I don’t think it’s anything you did, Loki.”
“Then why-?”
“Sometimes people just have bad days.” Mr. Stark leans across the table in front of it. “Or they do stupid things and it takes a while for them to realize.”
That gives it hope, perhaps in time it will realize how to fix what it has done. Maybe Sire needs Space.
“Perhaps Sire is spending time with others instead?”
“Thor,” Mr. Stark reminds it gently.
“I have not seen Sire’s- Thor’s- I have not seen Thor’s brother recently.”
The man freezes.
“What?”
“His…” it hesitates. “Brother? The one who resembles him, yes? Was that wrong?”
“Steve? You mean Steve? He isn’t- no- they’re,” the words fall out of him, like the pile of screws and other metal bits that had been knocked to the floor in its last visit (screwdrivers drive the screws, it likes the lab, there is logic in all of the things). “Steve and Thor are not related.”
-
“But he greeted Steve Rogers as brother, I do not understand.”
Tony sits, very quiet. He almost tells him, and then doesn’t because that would be a terrible idea. This is better. This is better, Loki is better if they are not family.
“Is this a thing that happened before? Has anyone explained anything to you ever?”
“Before?”
“… never mind.” Loki cocks his head to the side again, Tony wonders if it is a learned trait or if it is like saving a file, a required motion. “Look, just…” he trails off, then turns to busy himself at another table, gesturing vaguely. “If you have questions about anything, just ask me. I’ll explain whatever.”
The next day when Tony sees him, Loki waves.
Chapter 7
Chapter 6
By the time Sire (Thor?) returns, it is once again sitting in the open area of Sire’s floor. Next to it there is a small pile of books of different colors. It thinks it likes them, they are a comfortable weight to carry and Sire always smiles when he sees it with them. It has been looking at the markings inside that it does not understand.
There is some consistency to them, a pattern.
It looks up to the sound of the metal doors opening and closing, and Sire’s loud call of its name. Bags are deposited on the table and Sire pulls it up from the couch. Its book falls to the ground. It frowns.
“Come, Loki. I have purchased new garments for you. I am afraid your usual fare was somewhat lacking, though these items are comfortable and should suit until the proper attire can be found.” Sire foists a bag into its arms and moves it with hands on its shoulders. “Go. Change. I will dispose of these old ones when you are finished.”
Dispose?
The door of its room closes behind it.
Inside the bag it finds piles of cloth. One piece has small holes and circles that resembles what it has seen others in the Tower wearing. There is also some coarser fabric similar to its leggings. It is able to put these on without much difficulty. When there is a knock at the door, it opens it without thinking and watches Sire collect the material it had discarded and left on the bed.
It watches Sire walk away with its things.
-
The next morning it searches through the new material and puts on a large baggy piece of fabric. The clothing hangs off of it like a rumpled sack. It goes in search of a glass and water, and instead finds Sire who starts to smile but draws back to look at it with narrowed eyes before sweeping out of the room. It is confused.
Sire had creases on his face, which meant he was Not Pleased, but it is not sure what it had done to cause this. Should it not have left its room? Sire had been pleased the previous day, yes? Had it done something without noticing?
It goes back to its room without getting water and sits on its bed and thinks. Sire does not come back. It pulls on the fabric it is wearing.
It must have done something wrong.
Maybe it should ask someone.
(The lab is a safe place.)
It goes to find Mr. Stark.
-
It knocks on the clear panel separating it from the workshop. There is silence, and then the panel shifts. Dummy looks up from the table beside Mr. Stark. The machine makes its way over (it had heard Mr. Stark refer to the machine as He, but Dummy does not match its associations with the word, should it recalculate its definitions?) and closes his claw around its wrist, guiding it gently back to the table in time for Mr. Stark to blink over at it in confusion, eyes running down its body and back up again.
“Hey, buddy. What’s up?”
Up? It looks at the ceiling. Mr. Stark makes a noise that is a little like Sire when he is pleased.
“Why did you come for a visit? Need help with something?”
“No, ah- Sire left, for Space.”
“Oh?”
“I do not like Space.”
“… oh.”
It looks at the table, which is riddled with tools, because Mr. Stark is watching it in a way that makes it anxious.
“May I stay here?”
“Yeah- yeah, that’s fine. Why don’t you- um… Dummy,” the machine looks up. “Be distracting. Or- wait-” Dummy, who had already been on his way to the corner of the lab, presumably to get something distracting, turns to Mr. Stark again. “We’re going to learn things. Take a seat.”
Loki does.
Mr. Stark touches a screen and the air around them lights up. He talks.
When the patterns that it had seen in the books float in the air, Loki stands quickly.
“Those,” it says, pointing. “What are those?”
Mr. Stark gives it a crooked disbelieving smile. “Aww, baby. We are going to have so much fun.”
-
It spends hours curled up on the couch with a tablet and head phones learning to Read. Mr. Stark had explained the concepts, using the screens to pull up what looked like the patterns in Loki’s Books except they were larger and had less of the shapes. Patterns had logic behind them, it could see that, and it wasn’t long before Mr. Stark had given it the materials it had needed to explore on its own.
“You’re smart, right?” He had said. “You can probably work out the basics yourself. Let me know if you think you’re missing something. We’ll quiz later and then I can get you something more fun.”
“Thank you, Mr. Stark.”
“Yeah, stop calling me that. It’s Tony.”
-
It has so many words now. It wants more.
-
“What time is it?” Mr. Stark (Tony) looks up a few hours later. “I should eat lunch. Is it lunch? When was the last time I ate… Dummy, get me a smoothie.”
It lifts up one of the tools, running its fingers over the pointed edges.
“That’s a screwdriver,” Mr. Stark tells it. Screwdriver, it commits the word to memory. Runs its finger over the surface of the table, spelling out the letters.
Later, Dummy returns with a glass that is filled with a green something that reminds it of… a thing it thinks it has seen before, but cannot recall the word for. It stares at the smoothie where the machine (he) had left it on the table and thinks and thinks and thinks until there is a nudge at its side and it sees Dummy looking at it.
Mr. Stark takes a drink from the glass. It turns back to him.
“Have I done something wrong?”
The sound Mr. Stark makes mid-drink is alarming and it is by his side before it realizes it has stood up. It is shooed away and sits down hesitantly, ready to be on its feet again if needed.
“Wrong? Why would you think you’ve done anything wrong?”
“Sire is upset with me.” It picks up another of the tools on the table, examines the handle. “He left me behind today on purpose; it was not- it is not like Space. I misled you earlier, I apologize.” It picks at the tool. “It is worse than Space, Space does not anger him.”
“I don’t think it’s anything you did, Loki.”
“Then why-?”
“Sometimes people just have bad days.” Mr. Stark leans across the table in front of it. “Or they do stupid things and it takes a while for them to realize.”
That gives it hope, perhaps in time it will realize how to fix what it has done. Maybe Sire needs Space.
“Perhaps Sire is spending time with others instead?”
“Thor,” Mr. Stark reminds it gently.
“I have not seen Sire’s- Thor’s- I have not seen Thor’s brother recently.”
The man freezes.
“What?”
“His…” it hesitates. “Brother? The one who resembles him, yes? Was that wrong?”
“Steve? You mean Steve? He isn’t- no- they’re,” the words fall out of him, like the pile of screws and other metal bits that had been knocked to the floor in its last visit (screwdrivers drive the screws, it likes the lab, there is logic in all of the things). “Steve and Thor are not related.”
-
“But he greeted Steve Rogers as brother, I do not understand.”
Tony sits, very quiet. He almost tells him, and then doesn’t because that would be a terrible idea. This is better. This is better, Loki is better if they are not family.
“Is this a thing that happened before? Has anyone explained anything to you ever?”
“Before?”
“… never mind.” Loki cocks his head to the side again, Tony wonders if it is a learned trait or if it is like saving a file, a required motion. “Look, just…” he trails off, then turns to busy himself at another table, gesturing vaguely. “If you have questions about anything, just ask me. I’ll explain whatever.”
The next day when Tony sees him, Loki waves.
Chapter 7