Kelly
What the hell day is it?
I don’t know, I’ve completely lost track of my days of the week again. Great. Fantastic. Shit and diddles.
So, it didn’t take them long to hook us up with laptops. The laptops are closed off from their system and have games and the like on them. They’ll update us with more games later on, maybe.
You can tell it’s an old laptop. Someone else has been using this thing and probably for years from the feel of it. They gave us each a mouse and the mouse is new, which is good, but you know it’s one of those cheap, dollar store mice.
I mean, this thing makes me feel like some kind of giant, it’s so fucking small.
But it’s a mouse and it works, and that’s what counts, right?
The games on the laptops are all different so we’ve agreed to pass them around, basically, if someone wants to play a specific game. But at the same time, each of us has a journal on our laptop.
We went through them and picked up the boring one with card games and pretty well nothing else, for me since it allows me to write whenever I please. This way, I don’t have to fight with the twins who are suddenly very focused on the games and less focused on sex, which is great news.
They don’t seem to realize that computers mean they could be working soon.
But that was something I discussed with Mary today.
See, they’re going to set the twins up in a room and put them in lectures, basically. Update what they know and then move on to post-secondary education. They’re several years behind despite Stephen and Karen’s best attempts to educate them.
I mean, the older pair have been in the system so long that they probably did teach the boys everything they learned from school. There’s just no helping that.
I like the idea of a closed-off system and I understand that if Nuke says they’re closed, then they’re closed, but I’m still paranoid, I guess, about what could happen. We’ll see, I guess.
Uh, not much else new. They took us to medical again for yet another checkup. Surprise! no changes.
Dumbasses.
They really expect to see a difference? They couldn’t even tell when I was claimed, for crying out loud. How are they going to know if my status changed?
Yeah, they won’t, that’s how.
Morons.
Todd
I sat down with Nora today because Lexi wanted me to. She immediately apologized for what happened and explained that she never would have kept me on the medication if she had thought my reaction was anything but a mild side effect. Lots of people go on medication and say they want off but it’s just the rollercoaster ride before everything settles out.
That’s not the way it was for me.
“I’d rather talk, if you don’t mind,” I said, raising my hands weakly as they shook.
They tell me it could be six weeks before my wrists are healed because I did a good job at it, tried real hard to put an end to myself.
Good job, Todd, you can do something almost right.
Sarcastic whooo.
They’ve moved my computer to Lexi’s place and told me they’re retaining control just for a little bit, to make sure nothing else is going wrong. I’m used to it, though, so there’s that. Nothing is changing for me in my day-to-day, I guess.
Nora and I talked for a long time and I don’t want to reiterate it here. Boring stuff, feelings and that bullshit. I also know they don’t film our sessions so maybe it’s a bit of a rebellion on my part. A part of me that they can’t get ahold of.
She asked if my powers had begun to come back and I said no.
I haven’t noticed anything.
The world is funny, though. Like I’m noticing the marks on the walls as I walk through them. I get flickers of people, of screaming. Here and there, I can pinpoint where one of us was killed. Shot fourteen times for slapping a guard there.
Went OFF and took out a dozen or so guards there.
There’s a corner missing out of a tile, or the laminate I suppose, in one of the hallways. They’ve waxed over it so often that it’s practically filled now.
I took a beating in that hallway. One of their tools missed and hit the edge of that tile, ripping the corner off.
And no one’s ever fixed it.
They’ll remove the bloody carpet, replace it with something newer, as they did in Lexi’s dorm, but they don’t fix the cracks. None of them ever think of those sorts of things.
These little marks are all that remains of too many people to count. Scratches, cracks, and little craters in walls, floors, bits of the ceiling tile missing.
These are our stories.
We’re real people, we live and breath and have thoughts. Humans outside are protesting for their rights, or already have and have those rights, but in here?
Well, at least skin colour doesn’t matter.
Because we’re all fucked no matter our race. No matter where we came from or where we were headed, what family we come from, we’re going to die in here.
But what’s there to be depressed about, am I right? Got a roof over my head, a permanent job, three meals a day, and what basically amounts to a sex slave. Who could want anything more?
Idiots.
I sat with John for a while, but Mary was there the entire time and he kept focused on his work. I guess it’s something with Mary and her wanting him to pay closer attention to the screens.
Or maybe he’s trying to make up for what I used to do.
For a flickering moment, I thought I felt SOMETHING but then it vanished again. I let it slip through my fingers because, in those moments, I also wasn’t much interested in helping anyone who worked for the company. John is friendly with me, sure, and I care what he thinks and what happens to him, but he still works for them.
Suppose, I’m just feeling lost right now. Like, what do I do with myself and my time?
I don’t know.
I wish I could reach out to Nuke. Well, I suppose that’s more of: I wish I could reach OUT to Nuke. I’m not entirely sure why either. I mean, we’re not exactly friends. He’s not quite friendly.
In many ways, he’s cold and distant. He’s not settled yet, is what he’s said in the past. He’s still absorbing everything around him and trying to make up his mind on what to do. That’s what he’s said.
It doesn’t even make sense to me.
But I like the bubbles he gives me and right now, I could really use a bubble. I could use one of those sunny afternoons, the fun little things that he shared. They would pop just like the thing they were named after and the image would vanish almost as quickly as it came, but it’d be nice to have a few of those.
Anyhow.
When I got back to Lexi’s place, Mack was right at the door and he hasn’t left me alone since. He’s currently curled up in my lap purring away as I stroke him and type one-handed. Anytime I stop petting him he rouses himself, grabs my hand with his paws, and drags it back to him.
So I keep petting.
He’s dreaming of a warm, sunny spot. Of a window being open and letting in a little breeze and the scent and song of little birds and rodents who he knows will be there later in the afternoon for him to watch when he grows bored of sleeping. For the moment, he’s in a warm, sunny spot and that’s all that matters.
He is safe, content, and knows Kelly will come back to him.
Until then, he will dream of his sunny spot where he used to wait for Kelly to come home.
At least he’s happy.
The Others 