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phormthevixdjinnThe horizon seemed to dance in the distance. What she could see through the gigantic window wasn't much, but the shimmering sight of sand and sky were enough for her.
She had never known anything else.
"Can I go outside?" she asked, already aware of the answer.
"No," the reply was quick, blunt. "You know this by now."
She put a hand against the window and leaned forward, until her forehead pressed up against the glass. It felt cool, despite the fact that it was overwhelmingly hot outside.
"I just want to go out there and look around."
"You'd only find sand and bugs. That and heatstroke." She was used to this voice by now. She knew the doctor well enough - better than anyone else in her young life. He was the one who was always talking to her.
The other doctors didn't really talk to her. They talked past her.
"What's heatstroke?"
"It's very unpleasant. Please take your face off the window."
She took a step back from the windowpane, while keeping her eyes focused outside. It was true enough that she couldn't see much more than sand, and the thin strip of asphalt that lead out of the parking lot and up toward the horizon. But in her mind, there was more out there. There had to be more out there.
That's why the horizon danced like that. Why it shimmered so much.
"Will I ever get to go out there? Someday?"
The doctor kept scribbling at his desk, nose down as his pencil moved with purpose and speed. There were times when she felt like he barely paid attention to her, as if her words occupied only the tiniest portion of his thoughts. Then again, who else would even give her that? She was grateful enough that he responded to her questions.
"You have everything you need right here. I promise you, if you were to venture out there, eventually the only thing you'd want is to come back. And you'd likely wind up injured or ill, to boot."
"What does 'venture' mean?"
He didn't answer her this time.
She lowered her eyes from the horizon down toward the floor as the sound of scratching graphite on paper filled the room. At least it was better than silence.
She hated silence.
"Can I talk to the other girl again?"
The scratching stopped abruptly. The stillness that flooded her ears made her initially uncomfortable, but there was a slight tingle of joy in her neck when she realized she had gotten the doctor's full attention.
"Tell me, please, when did you speak with another girl?"
She turned from the window now, facing the doctor directly. He was so much bigger than she was. She barely came up beyond the edge of his desk, and the doctor looked down at her, over the thin glasses that rested on the bridge of his nose. Like all the other people here, he was human. She had scarcely gotten to know anyone else, beyond humans.
She hadn't gotten to know anyone like...
"At lunch, yesterday, when I was going back to my room. She was coming the other way. She looked a little like me. She was different, but... She didn't look much like you."
The doctor leaned back in his seat, folding his hands together as he let out a brief, gentle 'Ahhh' of realization.
"Of course. That incident. Right." The doctor pinched the bridge of his nose as she stared up at him.
"Can I talk to her?"
"No, I'm afraid not. But tell me, why do you refer to him as a girl? Surely you realize that the person you saw was male, right?"
She blinked a few times, confused.
"She was a girl."
"I see," he muttered. "The clothing, the appearance, these didn't inform your judgement on this topic in any way?"
"Huh?"
"How he dressed, how he moved. They were very unlike a girl, correct? You've studied this. At least, I hope I've taught you this."
She paused and furrowed her brow in confusion. To her it was so obvious. And she knew better than to lie.
"No. She was a girl."
The doctor appeared very, very concerned. He leaned forward in his seat.
"Why do you say that?"
She had to take a moment. She knew she was getting upset. She could feel it in her chest, building up toward her head. The impulse to shout and to yell and throw whatever she could get her hands on. But she also knew this was something she had to suppress. Besides, she didn't even know why she felt so suddenly angry. She had to answer and ignore it.
"I could feel her. And I could see her."
"But we've already established that his clothi-"
"Not her clothes. I saw her."
The doctor rubbed a hand over his mouth and chin, in the way he did when his patience grew short. She understood this well enough. Maybe she should have lied.
"I see... Tell me, did you hear anything?"
She tensed up immediately. Her mouth opened partway, yet nothing emerged.
"Tell me honestly, now. Did you hear anything? Did you see anything around him, not on his clothes or his person?"
She trembled inwardly, sweating the slightest bit.
"No," she lied with confidence.
The doctor seemed to unwind in his chair, exhaling a sigh of relief. She felt the tension in her own body melting away as well. This lie would stick, she told herself. They wouldn't know. They seemed to know everything, but this, she told herself, they couldn't know.
"You're simply mistaken. Likely because you've never seen anyone of his species. But I assure you, that was very much a male. Please do keep note of that fact."
"Y-Yes doctor."
She turned again to gaze out the window. Her eyes searched the cloudless sky, the endless horizon, and the dusty wastes intently, as if anything might've appeared there since she had averted her vision. She still believed the horizon danced for a reason.
She still knew there had to be more, not only to the world, but to herself.
"Doctor?"
"Yes?"
"Is there anyone else like me out there?"
"We are certainly hoping not."
With a panicked start, Vect jolted awake from the chair where she sat. Her wakening tremor sent her glass tumbling to the ground, shattering against the pavement with a high pitched shower of splintering noise. She had to catch herself to prevent tumbling backward, spilling out of her seat, and colliding with the ground. Within a second, she had righted herself well enough. However, it took several more for her to clear the haze from her mind.
She was in the boiler room, at the rickety card table amid the storage, awash with the the dim glow of the aged incandescent lighting that dangled overhead. Just in front of her upon the table was a mostly empty bottle of shit-tier vodka - the missing portion of which was, in various proportions, inside her digestive and circulatory systems. Her vision felt more than slightly wobbly.
Across the table, upon the boiler room wall, her eyes settled on the cork board they had affixed there so many years ago. The cork board adorned with photographs - very specific photographs. Beneath each, a name, and a long strand of crimson, silken ribbon. She remembered when that board had but a single photo on it, a single ribbon. It was over a dozen at this point. Over a dozen streaming, spilled, trailing strands of deep, deep red...
The sight made Vect grope for her glass - only to remember that she had just obliterated it naught but seconds before. Instead, Vect grasped the vodka bottle by the neck, and clumsily dragged it toward herself.
The mink theatrically raised the bottle.
"Guess there were more like me after all, huh doc?" She quipped, before draining the remainder of the liquor in a single, ill-advised bolt.
She had never known anything else.
"Can I go outside?" she asked, already aware of the answer.
"No," the reply was quick, blunt. "You know this by now."
She put a hand against the window and leaned forward, until her forehead pressed up against the glass. It felt cool, despite the fact that it was overwhelmingly hot outside.
"I just want to go out there and look around."
"You'd only find sand and bugs. That and heatstroke." She was used to this voice by now. She knew the doctor well enough - better than anyone else in her young life. He was the one who was always talking to her.
The other doctors didn't really talk to her. They talked past her.
"What's heatstroke?"
"It's very unpleasant. Please take your face off the window."
She took a step back from the windowpane, while keeping her eyes focused outside. It was true enough that she couldn't see much more than sand, and the thin strip of asphalt that lead out of the parking lot and up toward the horizon. But in her mind, there was more out there. There had to be more out there.
That's why the horizon danced like that. Why it shimmered so much.
"Will I ever get to go out there? Someday?"
The doctor kept scribbling at his desk, nose down as his pencil moved with purpose and speed. There were times when she felt like he barely paid attention to her, as if her words occupied only the tiniest portion of his thoughts. Then again, who else would even give her that? She was grateful enough that he responded to her questions.
"You have everything you need right here. I promise you, if you were to venture out there, eventually the only thing you'd want is to come back. And you'd likely wind up injured or ill, to boot."
"What does 'venture' mean?"
He didn't answer her this time.
She lowered her eyes from the horizon down toward the floor as the sound of scratching graphite on paper filled the room. At least it was better than silence.
She hated silence.
"Can I talk to the other girl again?"
The scratching stopped abruptly. The stillness that flooded her ears made her initially uncomfortable, but there was a slight tingle of joy in her neck when she realized she had gotten the doctor's full attention.
"Tell me, please, when did you speak with another girl?"
She turned from the window now, facing the doctor directly. He was so much bigger than she was. She barely came up beyond the edge of his desk, and the doctor looked down at her, over the thin glasses that rested on the bridge of his nose. Like all the other people here, he was human. She had scarcely gotten to know anyone else, beyond humans.
She hadn't gotten to know anyone like...
"At lunch, yesterday, when I was going back to my room. She was coming the other way. She looked a little like me. She was different, but... She didn't look much like you."
The doctor leaned back in his seat, folding his hands together as he let out a brief, gentle 'Ahhh' of realization.
"Of course. That incident. Right." The doctor pinched the bridge of his nose as she stared up at him.
"Can I talk to her?"
"No, I'm afraid not. But tell me, why do you refer to him as a girl? Surely you realize that the person you saw was male, right?"
She blinked a few times, confused.
"She was a girl."
"I see," he muttered. "The clothing, the appearance, these didn't inform your judgement on this topic in any way?"
"Huh?"
"How he dressed, how he moved. They were very unlike a girl, correct? You've studied this. At least, I hope I've taught you this."
She paused and furrowed her brow in confusion. To her it was so obvious. And she knew better than to lie.
"No. She was a girl."
The doctor appeared very, very concerned. He leaned forward in his seat.
"Why do you say that?"
She had to take a moment. She knew she was getting upset. She could feel it in her chest, building up toward her head. The impulse to shout and to yell and throw whatever she could get her hands on. But she also knew this was something she had to suppress. Besides, she didn't even know why she felt so suddenly angry. She had to answer and ignore it.
"I could feel her. And I could see her."
"But we've already established that his clothi-"
"Not her clothes. I saw her."
The doctor rubbed a hand over his mouth and chin, in the way he did when his patience grew short. She understood this well enough. Maybe she should have lied.
"I see... Tell me, did you hear anything?"
She tensed up immediately. Her mouth opened partway, yet nothing emerged.
"Tell me honestly, now. Did you hear anything? Did you see anything around him, not on his clothes or his person?"
She trembled inwardly, sweating the slightest bit.
"No," she lied with confidence.
The doctor seemed to unwind in his chair, exhaling a sigh of relief. She felt the tension in her own body melting away as well. This lie would stick, she told herself. They wouldn't know. They seemed to know everything, but this, she told herself, they couldn't know.
"You're simply mistaken. Likely because you've never seen anyone of his species. But I assure you, that was very much a male. Please do keep note of that fact."
"Y-Yes doctor."
She turned again to gaze out the window. Her eyes searched the cloudless sky, the endless horizon, and the dusty wastes intently, as if anything might've appeared there since she had averted her vision. She still believed the horizon danced for a reason.
She still knew there had to be more, not only to the world, but to herself.
"Doctor?"
"Yes?"
"Is there anyone else like me out there?"
"We are certainly hoping not."
With a panicked start, Vect jolted awake from the chair where she sat. Her wakening tremor sent her glass tumbling to the ground, shattering against the pavement with a high pitched shower of splintering noise. She had to catch herself to prevent tumbling backward, spilling out of her seat, and colliding with the ground. Within a second, she had righted herself well enough. However, it took several more for her to clear the haze from her mind.
She was in the boiler room, at the rickety card table amid the storage, awash with the the dim glow of the aged incandescent lighting that dangled overhead. Just in front of her upon the table was a mostly empty bottle of shit-tier vodka - the missing portion of which was, in various proportions, inside her digestive and circulatory systems. Her vision felt more than slightly wobbly.
Across the table, upon the boiler room wall, her eyes settled on the cork board they had affixed there so many years ago. The cork board adorned with photographs - very specific photographs. Beneath each, a name, and a long strand of crimson, silken ribbon. She remembered when that board had but a single photo on it, a single ribbon. It was over a dozen at this point. Over a dozen streaming, spilled, trailing strands of deep, deep red...
The sight made Vect grope for her glass - only to remember that she had just obliterated it naught but seconds before. Instead, Vect grasped the vodka bottle by the neck, and clumsily dragged it toward herself.
The mink theatrically raised the bottle.
"Guess there were more like me after all, huh doc?" She quipped, before draining the remainder of the liquor in a single, ill-advised bolt.