Chapter Seven: Good Words

Chapter Seven: Good Words

A Chapter by Trista G.

I had been among the company of Dogma for a couple weeks now. Every day was the same as the last. Wake up. Eat. Testing. Lock down. Sleep. Rinse and repeat. I lost count of how many times a crew member has spit in my face or thrown something at me while I was being escorted to the lab. The first week with this level of treatment was harsh, but by now I became numb to it. Just keep my head down. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t fight back. Be compliant. Be courteous. I had hoped that by proving myself harmless the hate would disperse. I wondered when I would start being right. 

The metal slab I had been using as a bed wasn’t comfortable by any means. Often times, I didn’t sleep too well, which left bags under my eyes. The food that was brought to me was a step above rotten. Clearly leftovers of table scrap that had been left out long after the feeding hours were over. It became a game to ease the slow passing of time to figure out what it was the rest of the crew had to eat. All I’d see on my plate was a cream-colored hunk of goo mixed in with bits of meat and some vegetables that seemed identifiable. It smelled awful, and it didn’t taste any better. I assumed every consumable item on the ship was artificial. Even I was artificial. 

Day and night, I’d have a guard standing outside of my cell at all times. There was a new one each shift. They were all given orders not to engage me in conversation, make eye contact, or even acknowledge my existence. Nothing that could possibly end with me getting set off or somehow crawling inside their head. I guess the other Desley was able to do that. Abigail would visit me twice a day. She would come once in the morning to see if I’ve survived the night then later in the afternoon for the routine testing for any changes. The doctor commonly acted somewhat decent towards me, but I figured her reasons were for safety. Still, I felt something odd in the woman. Familiarity. I felt the same towards the lieutenant, who never stayed more than ten minutes in my presence. She acted as if my own breathing was a personal insult. 

On the bright side, my hair follicles reached stimulus. I had a nice patch of fuzz on my head now. 


Today, I had the lieutenant’s sidekick babysitting me. Jeremy. I learned his name after hearing the lieutenant yelling at him for sneaking around the lab. According to Abigail, Jeremy was one of the youngest crew members on board. He was mainly a pilot, but he had specialties in other areas that made him useful on the ship. You had to provide in order to stay on the ship. If one job fell through, you had to be able to do another or face being left behind in one of Dogma’s outposts on land, which were deemed corrupted with sickness and made for easy targets to be destroyed by Eden sympathizers. Jeremy was only fourteen. He became a weapon as he grew up in this kind of world, but he still acted like a fourteen-year-old. For the last couple hours of his shift, Jeremy was sitting in a metal chair with his nose glued inside a comic book. I’d observe his facial expressions occasionally for entertainment, but in all reality, I was glad to see he had other interests. I kept my hands folded together over my chest, and I sighed from the boredom. Jeremy must have heard me since he glanced up from his comic. Seconds later, he was back to reading, but he kept looking towards the cell every few lines. 

“You wanna know what sucks most about the world ending?” He asked me, rightfully startling me out of my thoughts. 

I turned me head on the slab and replied. “I don’t think you’re suppose to be talking to me.” 

“This is the last comic book in the series, and the series isn’t even over.” Jeremy continued. “And I’ll never know what happens because the author isn’t around to finish it.” 

I stared at him, finding myself unable to really give him a response.

“That’s the real tragedy, is all.” The boy closed his comic and set it down on the floor next to his rifle, carrying a discouraged look on his face. 

I slowly sat up on the slab and turned to face the glass, leaning back against the wall. “So, you like comics?”

Jeremy’s face brightened. “Very much! Especially the one I’m reading right now.” He smiled. 

“What’s it about?”

“This dude, who has freakishly strong superpowers. He spends most of his life using them for bad things until he meets one girl, and he starts being the good guy. It’s kinda hard for him, y’know? He’s so use to being bad that being good feels bad, and doing bad things for a greater good felt right when really he makes himself no better than the other bad guys, and he doesn’t want to be like the other bad guys.” Jeremy paused. “It’s complicated, but it’s getting so good.” 

“What part are you at now?” 

“He just got through saving his girl from the main bad guy, but now he’s in a stand-off with the officers because he’s still a bad guy to them. It’s like people judge him because of his powers.”

I chuckled to myself. “Yeah, I can relate.” 

Jeremy looked at me, growing silent for a minute before finally saying, “I don’t think you’re bad.”

I didn’t expect him to respond with that. I was waiting on a snide remark or a reminder of what happened to the planet all those years ago, which I have yet to see how one person could have caused it. Instead, Jeremy leaned back in his seat and smiled again. 

“Thank you.” I replied softly. “You’re not like everyone else in here. Why is that?”

Jeremy stood up from his seat and began pacing back and forth in front of the glass. “I guess because I don’t have any reason to hate you. I don’t have a reason to hate anyone. Not even Desley Morgan. Y’see, I don’t remember any of it. I barely remember my own family. I don’t remember my family, my life before this, or even the tragedy that led to how the world is now. What’s the point of hating anyone you don’t remember? I don’t hate Desley Morgan for something everyone blames her for.” He stopped in front of me. “Besides, you’re technically not Desley Morgan, right? So, why put that blame on you, too?”

I was floored. I felt a sense of calm from his words that made my existence aboard the ship somewhat bearable. He was one person, and most likely the only person, who didn’t see me as some sort of monster. As long as I had one person, I thought, then maybe I had a reason for being here. A purpose. I was going to find that purpose somehow. As much as I wanted to thank the boy again, the lieutenant came marching around the corner.

“Jeremy! What did I say about talking to it?” Her voice was stern, demanding. Controlling. 

Jeremy scurried to his post by his chair, quickly taking his rifle into his hands before standing at attention. The lieutenant came closer to us, her eyes not once leaving Jeremy’s face. She crossed her arms at him, but the boy refused to say anything to her. He could have given excuses, but he knew it would only put him in a deeper hole with his superior. The lieutenant then looked at me, and I must have looked like a deer caught in headlights. The cold glare she gave me could be felt down to my bones. Her eyes looked extra green in her anger. 

The lieutenant turned to Jeremy again. “Open the cell. Richards wants to see Subject 42.” 


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I felt impeccably more calm than usual. Even the insults and whispers passed back and forth between the taunting crew members had little to no affect on me. I wasn’t phased by the endless testing or Abigail’s monotoned reading of the analysis reports. Jeremy’s words even took my mind off of the needle pricks. I was at ease. I was calm. I wondered if this was what being okay felt like. I was zoning out and taking myself to a better place in my head, being carried by the encouragement given to me. I was somewhere above the clouds where the sky might still be blue. A blue sky that I’ve never seen but have at the same time. 

“Desley, are you listening?” Abigail snapped her fingers beside me.

“I’m sorry, what?” I came back down from my high as she took the scanner device off my head.

“We’re done testing, now. I just wanted you to be aware. You seemed gone for a second.” 

“Yeah, I was just thinking. That’s all.” 

Abigail let me sit up in the chair after removing the restraints. “Might I ask what you were thinking about?”

“A sky. A blue sky with some clouds.” I said. 

The doctor stopped what she was doing to stare at me with an intrigued look on her face. “What made you think of that?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I’ve been having weird dreams lately. Seeing people, talking to them, weird things…but the sky…I love the sky. Just a shame I can’t see that here.”

“That’s interesting, Desley.” Abigail remarked, leaving my side to write something down in her notepad. “Your results haven’t changed. They’re still inconclusive. That’ll be all.”

My escort came in and placed the cuffs back on my wrists, hands behind my back. The lieutenant wasn’t present among them this time. The only thing my compliance has really given me so far is that I didn’t need an entire army leading me around everywhere anymore. Having a rifle trained on the back of my head the entire time didn’t make me any less uncomfortable though. My escort led me out of the lab by the barrel of his weapon, occasionally jabbing the back of my head with it. I still wasn’t bothered. I discovered how amazing the right words could be and what they could do for a person. It was wonderful. Thinking about Jeremy’s summary of his comic book during the walk back to my cell, I began to think about the differences between good people and bad people. I only knew of what I dreamed about. Personally, I wasn’t in the position to know the difference by text book. If I was bad to everyone but good to one person, was I really bad? By that standard, was Eden actually bad because of what everyone had been saying since they were saying I was bad? Was Dogma bad? Was Desley? 

I came to having a thought that maybe bad people were people who didn’t receive enough positive words in their life. Maybe Desley wasn’t truly a bad person but rather someone who didn’t hear enough good words. Perhaps, it was the same scenario for the one behind Eden. I knew enough that the crew aboard the ship had treated me in less than acceptable ways, but did it make them people? Have they gone too long without hearing good words? This place. This world. Everything was engulfed in reminders of tragedy and death. I imagined there was fear on both sides. There was so much negativity, and I was paying the price for it. I wondered if I showed I wasn’t a monster then the rest of the crew would stop seeing me that way. 

As we were coming up on the mess hall, I saw a couple of men walking towards us. As I had expected, the two glared at me as they approached. I smiled at them in hopes of a better reaction. It only seemed to irritate them, but they didn’t make any remarks. I didn’t know if that was good or bad. I continued to smile at those who walked by. I smiled, I gave compliments about their uniforms, anything to try to incite a little encouragement. It seemed to be going okay until my escort grabbed my shoulder and spun me around suddenly. 

“Just what the hell are you trying to do?” The man was agitated. 

“I’m sorry. I was just trying to be encouraging to the crew, y’know? Trying to make them feel better.” I was nervous, but I smiled at him. 

The escort’s look of agitation faded. He didn’t carry an expression on his face as his eyes nearly burned a hole through my head. Slowly, he began to straighten up and hang the strap of his rifle on his shoulder. I watched his eyes glance to the mess hall entrance as we heard the chatter spilling out. I had an uneasy feeling with how long he had remained silent. I attempted to hear his thoughts, but I couldn’t tell the difference between what he was thinking and what I was hearing from the mess hall. All of it blared together. To my surprise, the man smiled back at me.

“So, you want to make the rest of them feel better?” The man asked. 

I nodded to him. “Yes, sir. If you could help me, I’d really appreciate it.”

“Okay, 42.” He continued to smile at me. “Or is it Desley? I heard Richards calling you that the other day.”

“Either one is okay, sir, but I do prefer Desley over a number.”I began to feel less nervous. 

My escort chuckled. “I totally get that, Desley. My name is Shane, so you don’t have to keep calling me sir.”

“Shane? That’s a nice name. I like that.” My smile grew wider, trying to show that I was truly being genuine with him. 

“So, Desley, let’s go help the rest of the crew feel better.” Shane said, taking the lead and gesturing for me to follow him. This was wonderful. I would have never guessed that positivity could have such an impact on how someone viewed you. I had turned a man from harassing me to helping me in my mission. I didn’t think twice about following him. I was determined to have success with more people like I did with him. I followed behind Shane into the mess hall, which was packed with crew members still enjoying their break from their duties. It didn’t take long for us to get noticed, the crew slowly growing silent as more of them began to recognize me and wonder what I was doing there. Their thoughts were all the same, and I didn’t need to try to hear them to know that. A lump immediately formed in my throat. 

“Don’t be nervous. Everything will be okay, Desley.” Shane reassured me, which was enough for me to calm down. 

“What the hell is this, Birmingham?” One man shouted from the back. 

Shane held his hands up to everyone. “Guys, I just wanted you all to meet Desley.”

There was no response from all of them, only confused stares. I tried to smile at them the best I could as the lot of them began standing up from their tables. 

“What’s that freak show doing in here?”

“Get it out of here, Birmingham!”

The crew began to roar their disgust about my presence among them, but Shane made sure to talk over them. “Listen! Listen! I brought Desley in here today because we want to help all of you feel better.” He pushed his tongue against his bottom lip. “Look, she’s in cuffs. She can’t do anything to hurt any of you.”

I decided to step in, taking a few steps ahead of Shane to put myself in the room more. “I don’t want to hurt any of you, to begin with. I would just like a chance to show all of you that I’m not this monster you all seem to think I am.” I started out. “And I also want to say that I think you are all wonderful people, and you’re doing an amazing job here.”

I received nothing but vacant expressions from the crew, but I kept talking in hopes i’d see a wave of change. Even if I could turn one person, I know I would have had success. Then I heard Shane moving around behind me, those near the front watching closely to what he was doing. I saw smiles that gave me an uneasy feeling again. My words trailed off when I began to notice this, and I turned around to see Shane closing up the entrances to the mess hall. I didn’t understand the reason behind it, but I was starting to get a bad feeling. Shane knew I was watching him, but he continued on with a grin on his face. I was so focused on my escort that I didn’t notice the rest of the crew beginning to close in on me. It was only when I faced them again that I realized I was in trouble. There was an eerie atmosphere of malice. 

“Shane, what’s going on?” I looked to my escort for an answer. 

The man set his rifle down near the closed entrance and casually approached me. “What you wanted. You said you wanted to help the crew feel better, right?”

“Yeah, but�"“

“Then go make them feel better.” Shane grabbed my shoulders and shoved me back. I stumbled and tripped over my feet, landing at the head of the former crew that was now a lynch mob. Their voices screamed in my ear as some of the men in the front got their hands on me, dragging me to my feet as they aimed to throw me among the rest of them. I struggled back, but I was quickly swallowed up by the mob. Their roaring and spitting overcharged my senses to be able to think straight. The cursing and screaming at me turned into being shoved from one crew member to the next. Some were beginning to smack me. Others were taking their leftover food and smashing it against my face enough to where I had trouble breathing. I cried out and begged for them to stop. I pleaded that I didn’t understand why they were doing this to me. I never did anything to deserve this, so why? Why? One man struck me in my stomach before others began to work in bashing my face. I was scared, and I knew no one was going to save me. Not even Jeremy. The crew was tearing me apart, beating me to where I could hardly stand up. I was dazed. Even when I wanted to collapse to the floor, someone else would yank me back to my feet so that another would get they turn at striking my face, hitting my ribs, spitting on me, cursing at me, or all of it. 

A crew member had grabbed the back of the neck of my shirt while I tried to make another attempt at getting away. He yanked me back as I tried to escape, and I felt my shirt rip part of the way down my back. I didn’t see how tattered my shirt was getting or the blood that was staining it from my nose. I attempted to keep my balance when my shirt gave away, but I slipped in the blood that was on the floor. My blood. The shouting and the roaring continued as I curled myself up on the floor, hoping they wouldn’t hit me anymore. They screamed about the things they lost and the things they’ve been through. It wasn’t my fault. None of it was my fault. 

“Why!?” I screamed back at them. “Why are you doing this to me!? What did I do!?”

I pleaded and begged over and over for them to stop. Finally, Shane stepped forward and began shouting above all of them. He urged them all to move back as I kept still on the floor. They all grew quiet. I had my eyes shut while I was lying still, but the sudden calmness of the crew made me dare to open them again. I looked up and saw Shane standing over me. I glanced around to see that everyone had taken their steps back away from me so that Shane could be seen. Disoriented, I slowly pushed myself up to sitting on my knees, by body hyperventilating. I gazed up at Shane to see a smirk across his face. I didn’t understand this. 

“Wh-…Wh-…Why?” I asked again through broken breaths, my body aching. 

“Because something like you deserves to suffer.” His smirk faded. “You deserve to suffer like all of us did. Now, stay on the floor where you belong.” 

Unbelievable. His words cut through me like a hot knife, puncturing my lungs to where I couldn’t breathe. At the same time, I could feel the heat in my chest. I knew this feeling, but it was stronger. It came over me like a wave. Something in me changed. I never wanted it before. I never once harbored the thought, but I wanted to make Shane hurt. Something in me was taking over. As Shane was starting to walk away from me to make his way towards the entrance, I began to get to my feet. I let the blood fill my mouth before I blew a decent load of bloody saliva at the man’s back. Most of it got on the floor, but I knew some of it traveled enough to splatter against the back of his neck. Shane spun around in anger, his eyes ready to bulge out of his head. 

“Suck my dick.” I gritted my teeth together. 

Shane marched towards me, his fist clenched and ready to strike me. “You’re gonna wish you never said that.” 

I didn’t take my eyes off of him even as he threw his fist at my face. Anger swelled up in my chest, and it had taken control. Shane’s fist came to a halt just inches from my eyes. I could tell by the look on his face that he was shocked. The man went to pull his fist back, but it felt as if it were caught in an invisible vise, As hard as he pulled, he couldn’t free himself. Watching him struggle gave me amusement, and the fear in his eyes was more than satisfying. However, something in me wanted more. Now, I was the one smirking. To be able to control someone like this was more wonderful than the words Jeremy spoke. The power I felt was scary, but it felt so good at the same time. I forced Shane’s hand to spread, pulling his fingers out of the fist they were curled into. Shane’s body trembled as panic set in. I wanted him to hurt. I wanted him to feel what I feel. Slowly, I began to bend his hand back at the center of his palm. I heard the bones crack at every centimeter, and Shane began crying out in pain. Now, he was the one pleading to stop. I didn’t want to. I bent his hand back until his fingers were laying flat against his wrist. His screams were blood curdling, the other watching in horror as I started breaking and twisting his digits together. 

I knew this wasn’t me. I couldn’t stop. This feeling was dark. It was vicious. There was hunger in it, and it scared me. However, I couldn’t stop. None of the crew members tried to help him, and it was because they were  afraid of me. I struck fear into them, and I found it delighting. I could hear all of their thoughts clearly. This was control. This was evil. This was monstrous, and it was taking over me. Tears were pouring from Shane’s eyes as he continued to beg me to stop. He apologized. He made promises. I didn’t want to hear any of it. This monster in me didn’t want to hear it. I had half a mind to do the rest of them like this. 

There was a beep in the back of my head, and my body suddenly convulsed as an electric current seized my muscles, my focus breaking and setting Shane free. 


I came to my senses again, and I swore the shock made me hallucinate seeing a monster above me as I took my place on the floor again. 

It was a reflection. 


Maybe Jeremy was wrong. 






© 2016 Trista G.


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Added on December 4, 2016
Last Updated on December 4, 2016
Tags: sci fi, science fiction, drama, telekinesis, love, tragedy, proxy, peripheral, peripheral proxy, curse, sad, dark, themes