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whateverurlfornoone · 7 years ago

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‘Doctor Rivera! Jane, you’ve got to come quick. It’s moved!’

I jump out of my chair, knocking stale coffee over the table in front of me. I swear under my breath and pad the spill with my lab coat. The young man standing in front of me is breathing heavily and his eyes are fixed on me as I fumble with the cup.

‘Please, Doctor, someone will deal with that. You have to come now!’ He turns and sprints off, leaving me alone in the cafeteria. I glance around, weighing the urgency of this news against a primal fear at being caught leaving a mess. After a moment, I swallow hard, swipe my sodden tablet off the table and run after him.

I speed through the blunt white corridors. The stale, sterile air burns my lungs as I race past closed doorways, the lockpads of each flashing red as I come close to them. The corridor is silent apart from the rapid tapping of my feet on the cold floor tiles. The signs above the doors blur together, complicated and specific disciplines that I have barely even bothered to memorise. After ten years in the Theta Facility, I have learned maybe a tenth of the departments that operate here. I skid to a halt in front of the door to my laboratory, a much smaller section than any I have previously passed. The sign above the lock reads ‘Xenobiology’. As I approach the door, the lockpad flashes green and the door opens with an audible sucking of air. I love that sound. It sounds to me like science.

As I stride into the lab, my assistant, Ryan, looks up from a series of flashing screens. His eyes are wild as they were in the cafeteria. He brushes stray strands of hair from in front of his eyes and, through gasps, manages to squeeze out, ‘Doctor Rivera! Look!’

I swing around to look at the containment pod. The specimen is hunched in the corner, squeezed as far away from us as it can. It purrs softly. Or maybe it’s cooing.

‘When did this start?’ I say. I have been studying this specimen for almost two months now and it has remained unresponsive the whole time. I have studied every inch of its anatomy, scanning each of its eight limbs, mapping the damage to its thick, black outer chitinous shell and obsessing over unexplainable physical abnormalities like its overlarge nervous system. The specimen is fascinating, yet I have been unable to get any useful data as it has been entirely unreactive to external stimuli.

Yet here the specimen is, reacting.

‘Just a few minutes ago, Doctor Rivera. It jumped up and ran around a bit. As soon as I approached it, it backed off and huddled in that corner, like. Then I ran to get you.’ Ryan speaks rapidly, his mouth barely able to form the words quick enough. The monitors in front of him had been calm and demure when I left but they now flash excitedly over his face.

‘What readings are you getting?’ I ask, turning back to the specimen.

‘Just uh just uh –‘ he won’t be much use. I run over to the monitors and check. Our predictive models were way off. Internal pressure has increased, motor function inside the carapace is unpredictable and nervous system activity is beyond anything we have seen before. I move quickly to the glass that separates the containment pod. The specimen is curled up and shaking, the spines on its back waving like an anemone. As I move closer, a calm pity washes over me and its spines begin to still. I creep towards it, hand outstretched to touch the glass. Its shaking begins to subside. I push my palm against the glass container.

Suddenly, the door sucks open and three men I have never seen before storm into the room. They wear the crisp blue of military garb and the tightly styled hair of officers. They turn to Ryan and begin yelling at him. Trailing behind them is my boss, Doctor Harrington. He shuffles in and looks at me apologetically. When I turn back to the specimen, it is still and lifeless.

Several months pass with mixed results.

The first few weeks of experiments are difficult. On some days, the specimen is inert and Ryan and I spend our time checking vitals and recalibrating equipment. He and I do not talk very much and when he does, he seems halting, like he has more to say but is afraid to say it. I suppose that could be a natural response to our boss / employee relationship but it is quite vexing.

Some days, rarely, the specimen will begin to react. These days are irregular and its responses always occur when Ryan and I are in the laboratory with it. We have so far been unable to communicate with the specimen, in fact, we don’t even know whether it has a language.

‘You’re just staring at it again.’

Ryan’s interruption rouses me from my reverie. He is preparing food for the specimen. We have discovered a compound of proteins and sugars that it consumes, similar in many ways to honey, though without the appealing aroma. Something more akin to cardboard. As he moves to the creature, it backs away from him, retreating to a corner at the rear of the containment.

‘Why does it do that? After all this time, it’s still not used to me,’ he says. I shrug and move over to take the food from him. I begin to mash it up and make my way towards the glass, looking at the white and black liquids in the bowl as they coagulate into an unappetising grey mush. The texture makes me gag but I force the impulse back down into my stomach.

‘Hey, it’s following you. Look!’

The creature had indeed moved, following me to the sealed opening to its pod. As I get closer, it begins to push against the glass. I put the protein mulch into the opening and back away. The container opens and reveals the food to the creature but, after a moment, it too begins to back away.

‘That’s weird, right?’ I ask Ryan. He just stares at the creature. ‘Now you’re doing it.’

The creature follows me around the lab, whatever I am doing. When I eat, it eats. When I walk around, it walks around. When I talk to Ryan – and we talk more, now, more than ever before – it coos and purrs. Whilst it has no eyes, its light-sensitive receptor stalks follow as I go about my business. It remains an oddity for me. So quickly, it has latched on to me. I wonder if the hibernation in which we found it was a birthing cycle.

‘Do you think it sees me-‘ Ryan turns around to look at me and I flush. ‘No, it’s silly.’

‘Go on.’ He smiles wide.

‘Look, we barely know anything about these things. Do you think it’s imprinted on me or something?’

‘You mean it’s your baby, eh?’ His brows furrow briefly and then return to the open smile. ‘Why, are you getting broody?’

I sigh pointedly at him, returning his smile. The creature shivers as I glance over at it. ‘Not so much.’

We also get frequent visits from military personnel. Their interest in the creature is more than just academic. We have been able to tease some information about where the creature was found by pointed questions but it has given us very little to go on. When they arrive, they ask to see our results and frown. They always seem so impatient. The creature no longer hides when they are here but it stays still, as if hoping that they won’t see it. I don’t really blame it. I try and do the same thing. They review our progress and ask questions about its physiology and its behaviour. I keep telling them that if we knew more about where it came from, we would probably have more accurate results but they look at each other and change the subject.

Then they ask Ryan and me questions about ourselves; how we are feeling and what we have been doing. Personal things. Any changes in our habits or diets.

When they leave, I get so angry. I pace up and down the lab, ranting at Ryan. The creature follows a few seconds behind me, up and down its pod, spikes raised and shaking.

I have been thinking more about reproduction.

Upon studying the creature’s anatomy, she seems capable of reproduction, though it is not clear in what manner or in what frequency. There are irregularities in her biology which do not match any known organism but we believe we have identified which areas are involved in reproduction.

I spend my nights here with Ryan, studying the creature. She has begun to exhibit nocturnal tendencies which puts our schedules into disarray. We decided a while back that we should be active around her whilst she is responsive so we have some sort of interaction with her every day. On a good day, she follows me around the laboratory, imitating my moves from behind the safety glass of her pod. On a bad day, she stays resolute at the back, sensing us and turning to face each movement or sound we make, chittering to herself. It strikes me as the behaviour of a petulant child and vexes me greatly. Sometimes, I feel as if I could scream at her, though the thought of Ryan’s mockery thwarts me.

Besides, I have found myself becoming more interested in Ryan. We spend time talking, discussing the creature and what her reactions could mean about her species. I learn a lot about him, his background; he grew up in one of the border colonies and he was the first of his family to get a degree. He didn’t expect to be working in any of the Facilities so young but was so proud when he was offered this position. I don’t have the heart to tell him that he was the only one who applied for it. Our discussions calm the creature when she is in one of her moods so we talk often to even her out.

‘You know,’ he says as I walk over to the drinks dispenser, ‘it looks to me like it’s following you more closely now. Almost as if it’s synchronising with you, eh.’

As I turn to look at her, she looks back at me. As I turn away, she turns away.

‘Well, she’s been doing that for a while.’

‘Sure, but not that closely. And it’s dead on, too.’ After a short pause, he frowns. ‘Wait, did you say “she”’?

I start. How curious. ‘Well, I… Why not? Doesn’t she seem like a she to you?’

Ryan smiles at me, his eyes stretching and glimmering with mirth. It is an attractive smile. ‘I don’t suppose it’s going to do any harm. Just… please don’t name it.’

I laugh and turn back to the dispenser to refill my coffee. I decide against sharing the names I have already thought of.

Somewhere behind me, she purrs.

‘Jane, listen, this is getting weird, eh.’

I round on Ryan as he says it. I shake, feeling my skin burn. He cowers from my stare, shrinking back into his seat.

‘Listen to me, Jane. It knew. It knew when you were going to get here before you got here. It was sitting at the spot where it greets you. And look, it’s moved again.’

I glance at her as she slinks to the left of her pod. She stares at me coolly, imperiously. She chitters and I smile.

‘Jane, I’ve noticed it, logged it in the notes. It’s starting to predict you. It used to follow you around but now it moves before you do. That’s where it watches you when you mix its food.’

Ryan isn’t wrong. But so what? She’s probably hungry. She needs to feed. I move to the protein station and mix a batch of her food.

‘Jane, what are you doing? It’s not feeding time.’

‘She’s hungry. She was telling me, that’s all. She’s much smarter than you think.’

Ryan stands up and moves towards the door. ‘I’m starting to agree with you. Listen, stay here. I’m going to get Doctor Harrington.’

For a moment, I want to stop him. I want to hold him down and beg him not to go. Not to leave me. I move my feet, jolting towards the door before I catch a glimpse of her in the corner of my eye. She moves towards the opening, ready to receive the food. I look down at the mush and my mouth waters. It smells like the first breath of a new book when its pages fan open. It looks like a thundering storm cloud, powerful and imposing, demanding your attention. I fight an urge to gag as I sniff it deeply. I carry the tray to the safety glass. The opening of the pod is jammed on the inside, like it will not close properly. This worries me for a moment but it is more important that she is fed. I place my hand into the opening as she pushes her maw into the hole. She snatches the food and begins to scoop it into her flexing mouth. I could probably touch her if I reach far enough. I squeeze my fingers into the pod, searching for her smooth black body. As my fingers brush her carapace, we pull back our hand.

What an odd sensation. Feeling our own body. We enjoy it. We find a pole to jam open the entrance and create a bigger hole for us to escape. Leading ourselves forward, we follow towards the door. As we get closer, it sucks open and Ryan enters.

‘Good god! What happened? It’s escaped! Jane, what the hell happened?’

We feel something as we slam the pole into his head over and over again. Not sad, not excited. Something in between. We walk out the sucking door and make our way down the corridors.

Somewhere in front of us, we purr.

#oneaweek

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