"They don't let us out very much."
So, I wrote a little drabble. Really quite awful, but I was playing around with sci-fi. (Because I am a giant nerd and I love sci-fi). It's really vague, but that's kind of what I was going for. Also, this was written inbetween papers, a time-out if you will. So it's complete drivel.
The woman behind the glass tilts her head and blinks at him lazily. Her movements are slow, calm, and while his father thinks that she's drugged, he knows otherwise. Her eyes are far too bright for her to be on the edge of sedation.
“Well, my boy, what do you think?”
Seth glances away from the woman to his father’s smiling face. “What do I think about what?”
“The specimen, naturally.” His father beams proudly-Seth is disgusted-and holds himself straighter. “She’s absolutely lovely, isn’t she? Such perfection could not be found in normal human beings.” He presses a hand to the glass, and murmurs, “No, never could a human be so lovely.”
Seth wants to make a comment about his mother, who was considered by many to have been one of the most beautiful women of the century. A modern day Helen of Troy, Dr. Hirugashi had once told him. Seth agrees that she was lovely, but she couldn’t have been very smart. Not if she married a freak like his father. He refrains from making the comment, wants to ignore his father entirely. “What do you plan to do with her?”
“Study her. Find out what she’s capable of,” his father replies. “She does interesting things when angry. Nearly killed one of the lab techs when the idiot stuck a needle in her wrong. The girl has claws,” he chuckles and indicates to the woman’s abnormally long nails.
“Maybe she didn’t appreciate being poked and prodded. Most people don’t.”
The woman reclines on the bed, one arm stretched out and rests her head on top. The eyes never leave Seth.
“Does she have a name?”
His father-who had been enjoying the sight of her stretching out on the bed a bit too much-stares at him. “A name? Don’t be silly; of course she doesn’t have a name. Why would she have a name?”
“Well, what do you call her then?”
“X-334. X to indicate that she is female-chromosomes, my dear boy-and 334 because she is the 334th specimen that this lab has dealt with.”
“How original.”
The look from his father is nothing short of dark. “It suits the purpose. I’m not about to go searching through some book looking for a name that perfectly describes her or one that she responds well to. I’m not here to make friends with her.”
But you do want to fuck her. He shakes his head, switching topics. “Can she speak?”
“She growls sometimes, but I’ve never heard her say anything. In fact, aside from the growling, she hardly makes a sound. Perhaps she’s mute. Or perhaps her species doesn’t need to communicate vocally. We’ll find out soon enough.”
“Where did you find her?”
“Out near the Culcas ruins. She was skulking around in her original form but when we sent in a team she shifted into this one.” His father looks at the woman pityingly-appreciatively-and shakes his head with a laugh. “The poor dear thought she could fool us. As if a normal human woman would be anywhere near the Culcas ruins-that’s not even taking into account the fact that she was naked and that shock of emerald hair.” He taps on the glass and speaking slowly, taunts, “You’ll have to do better than that, my dear. Much better than that.”
The woman raises her head and smiles, although it is quickly lost behind the emerald curtain that is her hair; only Seth catches the smile and he huffs in amusement. She is only here because she wants to be here, her stay here is on her terms, and Seth has no illusions that she can and will leave whenever she tires of being there.
Glancing at his father, Seth almost pities him because he has no idea. His father loves being in control, loves making other creatures his playthings. He’s had 333 previous toys, all of which have met unsettling ends-either dying from the numerous experiments, deterioration, euthanasia after he is through with them, or occasionally killing themselves to escape. The woman in the room though is different; she understands everything that his father and the other doctors are saying, but she plays along with their expectations. If she lets them know just how intelligent she is, they’d probably lock her up in one of the cages where they put the dying specimens, or maybe even in one of the tanks. And while is he fairly certain that she could get herself out of any situation, the woman probably finds it easier to play along with their little game.
His father will find out soon enough.
“-trust you can find your way out?”
Seth blinks. “Pardon?”
“You’re so distracted, my boy. Just like your mother,” his father mutters, peering at him with his beady eyes. “I said that Dr. Bishop needs me down in Lab C and from the sound of it, I’m going to be there for a while-I swear, that woman is the biggest idiot to ever grace this planet-so I’m afraid this is where we part ways. You had somewhere to be this afternoon, yes? A meeting with Chairman Zietler?” He doesn’t wait for Seth to respond and pats him on the shoulder. “I trust you can find your way out?”
“Of course.” He smiles tightly.
“Excellent! Well, I’ll see you later, my boy. It is always so nice to see you.” And with that his father is gone, and suddenly Seth is left alone with the woman, a panel of glass between them. She shakes her head, the emerald hair falling out of her face and she smiles at him. The smile is not malicious; if anything it is knowing. She rises from the bed and walks over to the glass slowly, carefully; Seth has the impression that is she trying not to startle him and he resists the urge to laugh.
She presses her hand against the glass once she is close enough, splaying her fingers wide, and tilts her head invitingly. She is lovely, and suddenly he understands his father’s obsession, if only little. There’s an Asian cast to her features, perhaps it’s the slant of her violet catlike eyes, and Seth wonders what she looks like when she isn’t trying to look human. “Seth,” she says, voice muffled by the glass.
His eyes widen a fraction before placing his hand on glass, mirroring hers. “How did you know…?”
The woman’s smile deepens, eyes crinkling. “I heard it.” When his brow furrows-did his father ever say his name?-she shakes her head. “The nethicyte told me,” she explains, and Seth still has no idea what she’s talking about.
“Do you have a name?”
She blinks slowly, “Name?”
“What are you called? Or is too difficult to say?”
The woman behind the glass laughs and her face flushes with pleasure. “I knew you would ask that.”
“So, do you have one?”
“Lirsa. That would be easier for you to pronounce.”
“Lirsa,” he repeats. There are so many questions that he wants to ask, but he settles on one. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you.”