Callisto

Dreams of the Changeling (pt. 3)

They sat together under the blinking light of the lab.

"You told them the truth, didn't you?" Nicole asked. She'd barely slept the last few nights.

Jespar couldn't look at her. The dark shadow wrapped around her left eye conjured up too much anger in him. If they hit her again, he'd bite back. That's it. He was done.

But then, there was the problem: he was ready to die if it meant being free. But he wasn't ready to let her go.

"They'll never find it," he whispered.

She double-blinked. He knew she wouldn't let this go this time.

"Even if they know where it is," he continued. "I've told them – they need me."

She stifled a laugh and held her head in her hands while her whole body shook.

Beside her sat the results from the day's testing. Spools of statistics utterly incomprehensible to Jespar were still being vomited by the machine in the corner. The lights above buzzed their uncaring neon luminescence but did nothing to stave off the shadows that encompassed the ever-working machines and computers that worked with no alternative. All around them, the mechanical nature of their existence seemed to bear down upon their shoulders.

And finally, today, she realized the weight was too much to bear.

He could sense, like always, the trembling fear in her voice as she spoke, numb, without looking up. "So, what's your plan then?"

He leaped towards her and pawed at her hands, trying to break the shield she put up for him.

"Stop it, Jespar!" she wailed. "Just stop!"

"Nicole," he said. "Come on, even when you were still pissing the bed in your PJs, I was there for you when you woke up. Don't hide from me."

She slowly let her hands drop, and long strands of her unkept hair fell over him as he looked into her eyes and saw his own dumb face stretched out there in the turquoise sea of her iris.

"Woof," he said. "You really made me one ugly son of a bitch."

She chuckled despite herself, wiping away fresh tears. And there they sat, he trying to think of something clever or witty to say. At the same time, she pondered, her mind totally impenetrable to him, calculating ideas, scenarios, and odds of success that they had in getting away. She lived in the real world. He lived in her shadow. For her, freedom was an idea as fanciful as the creature smirking before her.

"Listen," he said. "When they come back, they'll work out that they need me to show them the way. And that's our ticket, baby. That's our chance. I'll convince them to take both of us, and we'll make a break for it the first chance we get. I'll figure out a way for us to get out, as I promised. I'll lead them to their final destination, all right. And then we're home free."

She looked down at him, wagging his tail excitedly as he did in the days before the darkness came upon the world. Her memories of that time were still so hazy. He couldn't talk back then. But still, she remembered him – his cheeky little face, cute, feeble bark, and how he waddled after her or bumped into the walls of her father's house. Those memories were hidden behind walls thicker than those of the prison that now surrounded her. She placed them in a little box in her brain so they would not be dwelled upon but cherished when she needed them. When they came and took them to this place, and she held him close to her on the journey, she had opened that little box and stayed calm. Even as the skies had darkened above them. And untold horrors that defied the logic she swore by were loosed upon the earth.

Now here he was. The product of that very same thing had led to the end of everything she had ever known. All she had wished for was a friend to stand by her side. Forever. And now, he was ready to risk his life for her freedom.