First order of business; get my metabolism working. I need to be on full alert now, and that means food. Conveniently, there's a bowl of assorted fruit molded into the box.
I scrutinize the fruit.
<It's safe,> Jeff thinks at me.
I nod, scarfing down a strawberry like an industrial shredder. A hunger I didn't even notice begins to fade almost instantly - fast metabolism, good to know - and soon the bowl is clean. Within minutes, strength replaces a subtle weakness in my limbs. I'm ready to fly, ready to fight.
Time to gather every scrap of intel I can.
I slam my body into the cage, just to be sure it moves, and it does.
Good.
Next, I try to speak, very softly so as not to disturb anyone.
What issues forth is not the words "bravo six reporting comms free," but a stream of chirps, clicks, and squawks bearing zero resemblance to my intended speech.
What? That can't be right-
More bird sounds.
No.
My brow furrows.
I focus on the forming of the sounds that make up the words themselves, shaping tongue and mouth- but it's all too stiff. The only sound I form is a slurred mess.
This can't happen.
<JEFF! WHAT THE FUCK? WHY CAN'T I TALK?!> I shout.
Jeff laughs through the mindlink. <Yeah. They messed with our speech centers somehow.>
He... laughs? This is not a cause for humor, this is the stripping of a sapient being of their most fundamental, unalienable right. Their right to a VOICE. THEIR RIGHT TO BE HEARD. I WILL BE HEARD-
<You are being heard.>
Fury burns in my chest, a powerful tension pulling my rib cage together and forcing air through my vocal cords into a shallow hiss. My face contorts from the rage - and my anger is justified. These scientists - no, these beasts - they cannot do this. It is indescribably wrong, taking a human being - whose entire existence is carried on the back of communication - and stealing that very communication from them. It is not physically possible to do something like this. This is not possible.
<And yet they did it.> Jeff again, resigned.
<Then by... by fuck-all knows what, I will PROVE THEM WRONG!>
<Go ahead and try.>
I hate his resignation. I hate these "researchers" or whatever they are.
I'm hyperventilating.
I hate, hate, hate hate hate HATE-
<Uh, kid, you good?> someone asks.
I have a release vector.
In an instant, I funnel everything into the mindlink. It needs to get out of my system. I need so desperately to be rid of this intensity, and yet there's nothing I can do about it...
There's a sound.
The chatter amidst the mindlink that I've only subconsciously noticed all suddenly drops silent.
YOU ARE READING
The Nature of Change
Science FictionAndy Voitenko notices things that others don't. Nothing paranormal, he just sees the laws of physics in action. He's always been socially awkward. And that makes him a target for a group of scientists who want the smart ones. He never expected wings...