Nonconformity | Henry Creel

Do You Understand?

"I've been meaning to introduce myself to you," She continued, absently picking at the skin on her arm, "But then you disappeared for a little while and I never got the chance." She frowned, "I should've said something earlier, though, it would've saved you from talking with Two."

"It wasn't that bad," I shrugged, "Does he usually throw tantrums like that?"

She grinned with amusement and then quickly checked behind her, "Yes, he does. But lower your voice, he's been known to pick fights." I raised an eyebrow. Why would Papa allow fighting between the test subjects?

"And no one's stopped him?" I asked, "Why hasn't an orderly stepped in?"

Something angry flashed in her eyes. It was there and gone in a second, and then she was smiling again, "Healthy competition is good. It makes us want to do better in lessons. Sometimes Two takes it a little too far, though."

It all clicked. Why Papa made us train together, why he encouraged competition. He wanted us to fight each other. He wanted to breed insecurity and jealousy by keeping us all in conjunction, forced to watch as other subjects failed or succeeded. Making us resent each other would push us closer to him and more susceptible to his influence. Dissecting life in the lab felt like peeling layers off of the world's most rotten onion, and each layer was darker and more decayed than the one before.

I watched longingly as the children filed out-- wishing for nothing more than to go with them as I counted down the moments until I would have to speak with Peter. I could feel him a few yards away, eyes boring into the back of my skull. Being the odd one out within the 'sibling' dynamic wasn't a remarkable occurrence, but it was somehow more humiliating to be separated from them. At the very least, I could disappear into the sea of people after I failed my training. But with Peter, I would be forced to linger on my failures. I'd have to listen to him analyze and judge while knowing full well that had no hope of doing any better.

And, of course, I still wasn't free of my sibling's judgment. I saw their gnawing gazes as I lingered behind, full of verdicts and uninformed opinions. Exceptionally, Six offered me a wave as she left. I did not know the girl, nor did I trust her, but I decided she was my favorite. At the very least, she was cordial and entertaining to speak to. I hadn't lied once during our conversation-- a new record of mine, I should think.

"Are you ready to go?" Peter's voice penetrated through my thoughts. I didn't face him at first, instead allowing myself one more moment of peace before I began with what I was certain would be a humiliating day. I heard his footsteps beginning towards me and barely withheld a sigh.

When he was beside me, I mumbled a 'yes' and followed him out the door.

He led us down a few different hallways. I never said a word, led astray by all the thoughts circling around in my head.

"Are you nervous for our training, Sixteen?" Peter asked, gazing at me with ponderous eyes.

That's one way to phrase it. 'Nervous' was an understatement. Nervous was what I would have been, were it not for the added paranoia, overthinking, and exhaustion I exhibited at present. My bones felt tired-- was that possible? If I hadn't been paying for my sleepless nights before, I certainly was now.

"No, I'm thrilled," My sarcastic reply came as no surprise to him. Something like amusement tugged at his face.

We came to a halt outside of a metal door. He held it open and gestured for me to go inside. I took a few steps into the room and was thoroughly disappointed. If nothing else, I had hoped for a new breed of training. A slight deviance from the same, mundane activities I endured during group practice.

Instead, I got a barren metal room with nothing but a metal table and metal chairs to occupy the space. And a lamp, in the center of said table. "Lovely," I whispered before making my way toward my seat. It was stiff and cold beneath my skin. How welcoming.