It was a simple matter to escape. All she had to do was lull them into a sense of security, then at their most vulnerable moment, lock them up, escape when they weren’t looking, make her way towards the vats of viruses, get out and...
And what??
Taking one of their valued viruses and spreading it all around their base was a seductive idea, but there was no guarantee that she’d get out of that unscathed.
There was also the matter of mobility. The wheeled chair helped getting around, but was very clunky on turns. If she wasn’t so pregnant, she would’ve been able to move faster. Given her current state, she’d be lucky to even outrun the slowest jogger in the room without feeling winded. If it wasn’t for that thing in her belly she would’ve left long ago.
The best way would be to stop eating, and have everyone get fat. The problem with this plan was that she hardly passed the same two people more than twice, and she could hardly starve herself long enough to resist temptation.
And even if she did manage to get away, where would she go next? She had no idea where she was, let alone what kind of microbes were being kept in these freezers. Let alone what effect they might have on her. There was any number of ways they could’ve punished her with any of the loads of viruses they had under their belt.
There was no comparable past situation to relate to. She was so far beyond her realm of experience that she was now exploring uncharted territory.
And then she got sick. There was that familiar tickling sensation at the back of her throat, then the irrepressible urge to puke. She tried to repress these urges, and always failed, tasting her meals all over again. At first, she thought they’d intentionally injected her with one of their high-definition viruses. She wouldn’t have put it past them.
“Just think of it! Your first cross-species Virus that’ll go on to infect who knows how many living things down the line!”
It might be wonderful to THEM, but SHE was the one feeling the effects. If they really wanted to celebrate, they would’ve injected themselves with the virus. No, wait, thinking on their reaction, they WOULD inject themselves with the virus.
After examining the Girl, the Lady Doctor gave the news, “Sorry to disappoint everyone after promises of the latest outbreak, but it’s nothing more than nausea.”
Their excitement at examining her faded once she turned out to be common. For most people, that would be a minus, but for her, she viewed it as a plus. They followed her with devotion that bordered on creepiness, even though they never laid a hand on her. But that level of compassion would only last until she gave birth. After that, she had no idea what to expect.
On the plus side, they kept their distance, giving her ample opportunity to look for avenues of escape. This was the perfect time to take advantage in this moment of weakness, but she was too tired to actually do anything. She tried to tough it out, but found that it was TOO tough. Any energy she had was spent tossing and turning, because she could no longer rest on her stomach as usual. If she was this affected by the most basic cold, then the effects of the more serious viruses they had stockpiled must be really effective.
By sheer accidence, she happened upon an avenue of privacy. It happened when she was ferried in to her daily checkups. The Lady Doctor looked at her vitals, making sure that her body parts were functioning properly, and that the baby was stable. A test was done to give a preview of what the infant would look like. Upon seeing the image, the Girl couldn’t make anything out. It looked like nothing more than a menagerie of lines criss-crossing among each other.
“You’ve got a very healthy boy there!”
Supposedly, there was a baby image in the blank area that wasn’t filled, but if there was, she wasn’t seeing it. “Doesn’t look very clear to me.”
“Here, I’ll give you a blown-up image. You can admire it to your satisfaction. By the time you figure it out, the baby’ll be born, and you can see what you’ve been carrying all this time!”
She reluctantly accepted the photostat. It was only later in the privacy of her room that she noticed there was an indentation panel in the back, the perfect place for hiding thin pieces of paper. Paper that could potentially be used to convey a message. A message that would alert others to where she was, and foster a rescue.
This was important, since it gave her a point of focus. While one day was indistinguishable from the next, her accommodations changed constantly. She was shunted into a different room every time. Given new clothes to fit her growth. They’d even given her different slippers after her complaints got wind of the Lady Doctor’s notice. Even her pills were separately stashed to prevent any chance of stockpiling them. This photostat was the only constant. It would be waiting there in whatever new location they placed her in.
The surest way of success would be to get word out about what had happened to her, but she was constantly monitored. On the rare occasions where she was allowed to take a walk outside, she was never without an entourage of four or more people. One time, she managed to snatch a piece of leftover wrapping paper, and hastily scrawled a message on it.
But even this little effort tired her out. Trying to piece the letters together made her head hurt. The wax paper was too slippery to allow any markings to be left behind. The letters wouldn’t stay put.
Somehow, through great effort, she managed to scrawl enough to form a coherent message. The hope was that this rudimentary letter of “HELP!! I’m being held prisoner in a Germ Cult!” would be noticed by the Refuse Sorters near the Factory, that would lead to her eventual freedom. If the Garbage Woman happened upon her message, that would be even better.
But even that plan had its fair share of difficulties. The Protists were also fastidious about throwing things away. Her bath water wasn’t drained, but placed in multiple sealed containers with DANGER symbols plastered all over them.
“Why go to all that trouble?”
“For your own safety. There are lots of dangerous people out there who’d like to get you. Don’t worry, we’ll dump your waste elsewhere, so you won’t be sought and found.”
So hiding her note in the bathwater was out. The only other avenue of escape was when she was in that narrow hallway. The above sky was overcast, but there was enough of a clearing to potentially toss an inconspicious note overboard. On the day of her exercise, she brought her photostat with her.
“If I see it in better lighting, it might make more sense to me,” was the flimsy excuse she gave. It was enough to let her through. Once left alone, she hastily reached into the back, pulled out her scrawled message, folded it into a paper plane, and threw it upwards.
It barely sailed five centimeters before falling back to the ground.
It took great effort to reach down and grab it and try again, getting the same results as before, before she decided to just crumple it into a ball and toss it over the side.
Her only hope was that this single solitary note would be noticed among the thousands of millions of disposable waste out there. It was the slimmest of slim chances, but she clung to this faint hope with a ferocity of clutching to a liferaft. It was the only thing supporting her on a daily basis.
But even this faint hope was denied her. Upon casually leaving the hallway, the crumpled note got caught by the wind, and fell back, dropping in full view of everyone present. Before she could even move, it was instantly picked up and apprehended by one of her followers. “Here, you dropped something.”
The Girl was incredulous. They couldn’t comprehend anything that deviated slightly from the script. They all expected the same old thing, and their minds short-circuited in the presence of originality. They wouldn’t recognize the Truth it it came up and gnawed their legs off. And they’d claim they still had a leg to stand on.
But then, the truth slowly dawned upon her. Whether they noticed anything had been written or not was besides the point. It wasn’t that they were ignorant about what she’d attempted - it was that they already knew what she was trying to do. More to the point, they didn’t care.
They were so confident in their security that they saw no need to micromanage the Girl’s last visage of privacy, since it would be ineffective in the end. By the time her message got out, the baby would be born, and she’d be long gone.
She thought back to a conversation she had with the Pale Boy.
At the time, they were surrounded by leaves. For some reason, she preferred being in a pile of dead leaves, while the Pale Boy was content being around live ones.
She was absentmindedly feeling the texture of the multicoloured foliage between her fingers when a spontaneous question came out of the blue. This was a frequent occurrence, and the Pale Boy answered them all without fail, which was why she asked in the first place.
“Just out of curiosity, what would happen if I was replaced by the Pod as I slept?”
The Pale Boy pointed to his temple, then pointed to a budding blossom nearby. (Your thoughts and memories would be transferred over, leaving only a pale husk)
“So, I’d become a plant, and wouldn’t have to deal with this brat growing inside me?” she asked, already looking for an out.
(I wouldn’t recommend that. You would remember everything, but become an emotionless being, a shell of your former self)
“What’s the downside to that?”
(Your emotions would be stunted. Your desires would be negated. Your existence would be centered on the last coherent thought you had. Is that worth giving everything up for?)
She frowned in confusion. “What, so I’d feel like a plant? Is it anything like being in a Vegetive state?”
The Pale Boy paused, gathering his thoughts, trying to figure out how to convey this complex idea of Plant thought through pantomime. Finally, he did a series of motions consisting of resting his cheek against the back of his hand with his eyes shut. (A Plant’s sleeping existence is no more different than when its awake. All its thoughts are reduced to pure instinct)
She looked disappointed, but still smiled a deranged smile. “If I were a plant, I bet you’d look after me.”
(Humans don’t need to be Pods to become Plants. I’ve seen humans who’ve been so isolated, so alone that their higher-thought functions shut down)
She turned to look at him. “How is that possible?”
(When a human mind is kept in seclusion long enough, their mind stagnates to the point where the body is the only functioning part keeping them alive. People either learn to cope with the loneliness, or die from lack of human contact)
She snorted. “I’ve been on my own all my life. I’d be able to deal with that.”
Back then, she thought that conditions were miserable enough to make her feel like a vegetable. How wrong she was. In this current stifling climate, she hardly felt comfortable enough to breathe.
She was terrified of having the prospect of having her life snuffed out before she’d ever really lived. Seeing no other option, she figured that as long as she was trapped, she might as well make the best of her situation.
“I’m starting to have cravings again.”
“What are you in the mood for?”
“There’s a certain dish I’ve never had, but have been told is a delicacy around certain parts - Welsh Rarebit. I’d like to have some before I die.”
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