He'll Someday Call Her Bunny
He sees her tears, and they make him sad, but he's a dummy, and even though he scored excellently on the dummy perception tests back in the academy, he knows he can't do a thing about it. Maybe the tall one with the sad eyes will help. He doesn't know. The tall one only glanced at him, and the look had been strangely predatory, even though his manner had been sad and anxious and scared.
She hits him once and he doesn't mind because he's a dummy and that's his job. When she hits him again, there's more power behind it, like she's pulling steel out of the core of her body, and she's channeling anger or rage or maybe just fear, and it's all pumping into him. But that's his job. He's the dummy.
People hit him. Sometimes they hit him a lot.
He doesn't mind that so much. He's used to it. His mother always said that was a dummy's lot in life, to be hit, sometimes a lot, but just because you're a dummy, that doesn't make you stupid.
He sometimes feels like he sees more of the world than people with actual eyes, eyes with rods and cones and corneas and irises and pupils and pinkeye, do. They're always so busy. The blonde one hitting him now—and hitting him well, she must have had training or she's just really accurate in her anger, which makes him want to warn the tall one who watches her when she's not watching him right back—she's always busy. She's a motion blur that somehow got confused for a human at a young age. She must be because she's always moving, directing the workers that are now gone, or coming in to hit him (but never with this much anger or fear or rage) and even though he can see she's upset, she's still going.
The tall one will call her the energizer bunny, and the dummy won't know why, but it fits so he'll someday call her bunny, too.
Today he just calls her angry. And so incredibly sad.
No comments:
Post a Comment