Creation (Part 1)

Sitting in a lab is a curious little subject, discovering it's new abilities and figuring out the world around it.

I was… made in a laboratory of some sort. That’s what they told me I had to remember. They told me to remember where I came from, and what my name was… They told me to remember a lot of things actually. When I failed to remember, I was told it was fine, and that it would be alright. They said it was just a malfunction. But I hate forgetting things…

I forgot my name once. They weren’t happy about that. One of them kept hitting my table and shouting out my name. He wanted me to remember, but I was too scared. The shaking made me feel uneasy. I wanted him to stop, but he couldn’t hear me. His shouting hit higher than my voice could from inside my container. He tapped the glass a few times and told me to remember the next time. He hasn’t come back.

But I never know when he will… so I refuse to forget it. I don’t know what he would do to me, so I’m afraid. The others have been nice since they noticed I was afraid of forgetting things. They had been gentle too. When they placed something on the table, it would only cause a small thud. They were trying to keep me calm. But can I trust them?

If one got mad at me, why wouldn’t the others? I always wondered if they were lying and if they got mad at me in secret. I could always hear a groan when they left the room.

“She’s showing minimal progress.” I heard them say once. What did that mean? I had never been told to remember it. I was afraid they’d give me another word to remember. I asked one of the younger men when they looked me over.

He said, “It means you’re getting better.” He smiled at me and then left the room. Does that mean I’m getting a little bit better? Does that mean I’m not good enough? Did I need to remember more? I don’t remember why they told me to remember. I don’t want to remember anymore.

Memory… data… progression… not working… They would say words like that about me. I didn’t understand. What was I?

When I looked down, I saw my hands were white. They always had a lot of things flying around them. Below my feet was the table, and above me was the container. It didn’t leave me with a lot of room to move, but it was ok. When my hands touched the table, I always noticed something. Like a new feeling, but also not. I never tried to understand it… But now I really wanted to.

A woman was coming into the room with a container in her hands, and it had something flowing from the top of it. She sat in the chair and brought the container to their lips. When they were putting it down, I put my hands on the table. When it touched down, I screamed and pulled away. It hurt. I don’t know why, but I found myself blowing on my hands, without really thinking. She was looking at me now like she was surprised.

“Can you do that again?” She asked me. But the container was still on the table, so I shook my head. She looked at it, and then picked it up, and then looked back at me. I hesitated, but I still put my hands on the table. The things that flew around my hands stopped, and fell to the down. Then I got that feeling again.

It didn’t hurt as much, so I kept my hands still. She put her finger on the table, and moved it lightly, and slowly. I was starting to smile and giggle because it felt weird. Then I started laughing, and I pulled away from my hands. When I looked at the woman, she was smiling, and her eyes seemed brighter than when she walked in. She stood and began walking away quickly. Before she left though, I caught her say one word.

“Progress.”

Author's Note

An interesting piece that I've sat on for a while. Tell me what you think, and if I should continue. As always, constructive criticism is very much appreciated.