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Basil:

“I … come from a den of thieves,” the man mumbled, eyes downcast. “I was raised in a village full of immorality and crime, the son of a single mother.”

I narrow my eyes up at him.  He sounds embarrassed, no, ashamed.  But of what?  I thought all areas of human habitation are full of immorality and crime.  And isn’t it normal to be the child of a single mother?  Only experiments like me have DNA from multiple people.

“Vulgen was a village under the boot of the Empire, and we were treated worse than dirt.  So we treated each other worse than dirt.”

I tilt my head.

I think he’s definitely ashamed, for whatever reason.  Ashamed and supremely uncomfortable.  I’ve been told that I can’t read people, that I don’t know what real emotions look like, but I know that’s what he’s feeling.  I know because he looks exactly how I felt whenever I botched orders back in the labs, or whenever I was stripped down for the exam table.

I tighten my grip around my knees.  I really wish I hadn’t thought of that just now.

I can almost feel their gazes burning through me again, eyes bugging out with each simple movement.

The sterile air was freezing against my bare back, cutting through my thin shorts like a syringe.  I don’t actually remember that much, because I was so focused on the idea of somehow stealing my shirt back from the assistant at my right.  All I had to do was reach out and grab it, but I didn’t want to anger the new director.  But I wanted it back so badly, even though it was just as thin and scratchy as those awful shorts. 

I could see the red ball floating in the corner of my vision again, waffling up and down in the hands of the Doctor’s aide.  I was going to catch the blazing thing for the fifteenth time, all for a certain bug eyed representative who still hadn’t tired of seeing my freakish reflexes.  My vision blurred as I blinked away the pricking in my eyes.  I bit my lip to make the trembling stop.  I can’t look weak, not in front of so many people.  Not in front of so many people who came to see me be strong. 

It was then that I looked up and saw the Doctor staring at me again, except this time his eyes were soft, and this time his frown looked more troubled than disappointed.  I think that maybe that was the moment he stopped seeing me as just a weapon…

“I’m not like my village, though.” I snap back as the man’s voice filters through the memory.  “I’m not going to sink as low as that.”

I shake my head.  The conversation is a welcome distraction, but I don’t like how he’s talking.  As if he could change a thing about his village.  As if it’s his problem to be ashamed of.

“Maybe.”  I squint up at him.  “Why are you so ashamed?  It’s not your fault your village is immoral and crime-ridden, is it?  So you’ve really got nothing to be embarrassed about.  Unless it is your fault, and in that case you should feel bad.”

The silence is thick and stifling.  I don’t really know what to say to him, but for some reason, I don’t want to let the conversation die.  I like talking to him.  I don’t understand him, but at least he’s honest and direct.  There’s no gray area in this conversation, and I like that.  It’s easier for me, I guess.  I think I have a hard time reading the gray areas.

I catch his gaze.  “What’s your name?”

@mamaauthoress