Mech Pilot who wwwwwwwWWAAAAOOOOOWWWWwww wwwwwwwWWAAAAOOOOOWWWWwww wwwwwwwWWAAAAOOOOOWWWWwww

🎄 << entry 1 the flickering man

Trigger warning for animal death and stuff about dissociation

When I was a little kid, I had a cat named (can't remember right now) who I probably liked very much (I always liked animals) except she brought me a rabbit in her mouth with the neck twisted and screaming and I didn't know what to do.

I didn't know what to do because I always woke up to wind chimes and the grass outside was soft and I can't remember a moment where Dad spoke to me in anything louder than a whisper so when (it was a girl cat, but I don't know the name anymore) walked in with blood around the mouth, I just let my mouth hang open as the noise pushed in and out. I knelt on the floor (which creaked, the wood was old) (it was a good creak I liked it plenty) and held the rabbit a little bit away from me as the cat I can't remember very well looked at me like she was proud. But my Dad always told me that the scorpion stung the frog because that was in it's nature, it couldn't help it, that's just how God made His creatures. So I knelt on the floor until Dad came home repeating the phrase like charm.

"Good girl, good girl, good girl."

The cat didn't do anything wrong. The rabbit didn't do anything wrong. Good girl, good girl, good girl. I don't remember the name.

I guess you could say I've heard worse things since but before I clinked when I walked and ate more pills than bullets the sound of a living thing in pain was enough to make me cry. I grew up softly, without bruises or scars, and more often than not in tears.

My eyes snap open and there's a pressure in my temple like a pin being pressed, with a little cry like a rabbit all twisted up. My arm goes up but it falls out of the air-- There's a disconnect between the shoulder and bicep, the flesh melts into wire and the wire tangles with the bandages I need to change-- collapsing to my side with a defeated thunk. It's heavy all over. The cry swims in circles above me.

Wwwwrreeeeehhhhh! Wrrrreeeehhhh! Wwwwrrrreeehhhhhhh! Wwwwhree--

My left arm is normal. I sling it over my eyes, pushing out one pressure with another. It's wet. There aren't any tears.

⚙

"Marko."

"Hnngff."

Trying to keep my balance, I push the door open a little more with my shoulder (I can't feel that side anymore, I have to confirm visually that I've made contact before moving) so that the light pours in. In it is a sliver of Marko, shirtless but with his work pants still on, his arms tucked neatly around himself as he silently lays on top of the already-made sheets (grey-blue, standard-issue from the company, but he has nicer ones folded up somewhere else). His boots are thrown to the side and a tin catches light from under the bed. That's where he keeps his cigarettes. They're special ones he gets in the mail on holidays. They smell a little sweeter than the ones the base lets you buy.

"Marko, excuse me."

There isn't an answer at first but when my hand clunks against the door knob, his body shifts and he grunts.

"I want to go to the infirmary, please."

"Whatsit now?"

He says that as he twists on his side and there's the familiar sound of air being sucked through teeth. His hand goes to the dark where his face is, probably to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Aaaaaaaauuughhhhhh. Aw Birdy, don't get it on my floor, will ya? I just-- Well, I just cleaned up. I was havin' a good dream, you know... Tissues to the left."

I try to push back on the door before realizing that I'm locked in place, so I just stand blankly, the last of my responding muscles tensing up in an effort to hold it together. Marko sees this, stumbles over, shoves a snowball of tissues into my face and flops back down to wrestle his boots on. I stand, bleeding into my hand.

"I was havin' a good dream. A damn good dream."

"Aboud whad?" I ask through the bloody crumpled mess. My tongue is getting heavy too with the taste of pennies, so my voice falls out with a slow drawl.

"Y'know..." He raises an eyebrow. There's a chuckle. "Or actually, you wouldn't. You wouldn't appreciate the details. It's so sad, I could just cry!"

A grin peaks through the exhaustion and Marko finishes with his boots (feet in but the laces balled up and tucked under the heel) and doesn't falter when he sees one of the tissues I'm struggling to keep a hold on has fallen to his floor with a wet plop. My hands don't move and neither does my mouth but he pushes me out with a forceful hand and slings one of my useless arms over his shoulder.

"Don't worry about it," He says. "Some things just can't be helped."

⚙

A tinny sound reverberates through the center of the room and through all the vials and paper and into the needle in my neck which I didn't really need because I can't feel it anyway. Esther insists upon it though, and replaces it with a puff of cotton before heading back to her work desk in a single clean movement. I told her once she'd make a good pilot and she agreed without missing a beat. But instead of boiling in a metal can all day she works with her shoulders hunched over her desk, looking over numbers I can't understand, tapping glass vials and ignoring the phone. I see the light on the receiver glow for less than a second before her finger comes down to squash it out of existence. Once again, fantastic reaction speed. She picks up a tray of delicate tools and begins dabbing at the spot behind my ear.

Marko is spinning around on one of the extra chairs, still shirtless (Esther doesn't care about these kinds of things). He winks at me for some reason. I wink back. It doesn't work, and my left eye is stuck closed. It's too heavy. Marko ends up wheezing in his seat.

"Hold still," Esther mumbles before stabbing a thin, hooked needle into a spot I can't see. She's always precise and speedy which I like, but when she gets close I get a little scared. She doesn't smell like anything. I've learned that the uniforms of this place have a scent, and the human body has a scent, but there isn't anything coming from her, not even a hint from her sensibly painted nails. I must've been moving because she holds me in place by the jaw.

She twists her wrist and the hook clicks something inside my ear. There's a low thrumming, like if you pressed your head to the ground and caught the sound of a train far away. Growing up, we had those around. In the night I heard the trains pass by.

"Auh, auuuh, auuuuuuhhhh."

"Hold your mouth shut."

Another click, and my arm completely loses feeling. The thrumming gets closer. The wires in my hands (I can't see them, but they're pretty complicated) (since they all got crushed last fight) go up my arm (I need to change the bandages) and they're bundled at a divot in the base of my skull. From the divot is a thrumming, but then the sound pours out and makes circles above my head. Reverberating in the air...

Esther pauses and twists her wrist a little. There's a rattle, like something comes loose. She strengthens her grip in an anticipation of what comes next--

--A shrill hell only I can hear--

Wwwwrreeeeehhhhh! Wrrrreeeehhhh! Wwwwrrrreeehhhhhhh! Wwwwhreeeeehhhh!

I press forward into her hand, clamping my mouth shut so nothing escapes. Esther's hand is iron around my jaw. The sound is making circles above us.

It's inside, it's outside, it's in the in-between where my skin meets muscle (sometimes it comes off, but I get new skin to put back on). My reconstructed hand feels the sharpness of the high notes more than anything else. Because when I held the rabbit, its coat was very soft--

(my dad came home and took the rabbit from my hands)
(he made the screaming stop)
(but it was soft and it was fast)
(and i still cant remember the name--)

The world is drowned in silence and white and with a shake of my neck, it comes back into color. The circling sound has been shot dead.

"Lean back," Esther commands. Her voice is muffled as if I'd just dodged an explosion and I'm still recovering from the blast. When I struggle to move, she pushes me back herself.

"All better," I sigh.

"One of your implants was knocked loose and your body tried to fight it off like an infection. It could've developed into toxic shock."

"Ahaha."

Esther glares at me just as Marko spins into view, looking exhilarated. He scoots up close (the chair catches on the floormat but his toothy smile never wavers) and squints to look at the place the hook went in.

"Man, that's nasty. Put some lotion on it."

"That will only further the infection." Esther is at her desk now, scribbling away with her head down. "I'll order a replacement, we can install it next week. You'll be sent a notice in the morning. I advise against panzer operation until..."

Her voice gets drowned out by nothingness. It must be the part she extracted (it's laying in a petri dish, glistening wet) since it was the thing that helped me after the explosion. Without it, things come and go. But I'm never scared at all. It's like a big blanket covering everything, like when I was a little kid. I close my eyes and let everyone else do the work.

"...Hey, Birdy."

Marko is close to my ear. He smells sharply like cigarettes.

"Hey Birdy, we'll getcha anything you want. Did you hear?"

"You sound like you're under the sheets."

"You're getting operation, Birdy. So we'll getcha anything you want. You want more of that cider? The one from New Years? How 'bout a girl?"

"I don't know. No girls."

"Fine, fine. No girls." He laughs. "Tell me whatcha want more than anything. Go ahead."

The words come out on instinct. "Christmas."

He groans. "Not Christmas. This guy, it's all he talks about. Something else, surprise me!"

My head lulls to the side and I try to come up with something good. Clearly Marko wants something good, or maybe he's just bored, I can't really tell anymore. If I wasn't so doped up all the time maybe I could see if the way he squeezes my arm really hurts or not. But for now, I have to think of something good.

"...If I had to say.... I guess my Dad?"

I measure the words carefully so each syllable comes out perfectly formed. But the reaction is just silence as Marko's eyes go wide and then it's all over with an earth-shattering laugh. Esther is unbothered until Marko explodes-- She keeps her composure, but her arms tense at her side with irritation. When Marko laughs, he takes the air out of the room.

"You-- Oh, you really get me-- Doc, give his head another look, alright? Really get in there this time, see if its all, what is it, see if it's tinsel."

"When I was a kid, I tried to eat tinsel."

"You're funny, you know that? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"His blood sugar is low," Says Esther. "And he's allergic to the material in the ear implant. Marko, be ready to pick him up next week. Make sure he's showered."

"Aw, but I'm busy..."

He complains, but we already know how it ends. I let myself fade out again. There's nothing more to do.

⚙

I know what happens next, because it has happened countless times--

--I am walked to my room (but carried halfway, because of the numbness)--

--I am laid on the bed (grey-blue standard issue blankets that I can't even feel)--

--With my eyes closed, I can sense that somebody is there. They stand and stare for who knows how long (I dont bother counting seconds anymore, since everything repeats anyways) before taking slow steps out, and I can get lost a little longer until I have to go back to work.

The lights are never turned on. The door is never closed. Eventually it gets quiet, just like it was before.