Futuristic [ES•CA•PE] private

[enkryptid]

CHARACTERS
Charles Osmand "Ozzie" Greenwood (Civilian)
Gavin Whitaker (Security Guard)
Simon Cleary (Scientist)
EV-471 "Evan" (Experiment)

SETTING
"This ain't no postcard town and we like it that way. We be self-sustaining honest people in this town."
- Mrs. Marckus from the Deli

SYNOPSIS
A few years ago, a large corporation began their plans to build a facility into the subterranean region of the mountain base near town.
The towns people didn't mind as long as these fellows don't mess with their daily lives or kill the cattle.
Little did they know, this building would bring an influx of strange events and things to their quiet town. Not all of which seem
natural or God-fearing.

 

[saturday shorts]

The facility was quiet this late at night, and Simon had to stifle a yawn as he walked through the cold hallways. He had to try his best not to look like he was hurrying, or panicked at all, but telling your body to walk naturally almost always seemed to result in walking abnormally. He took a few deep breaths to help his muscles relax, puffing his cheeks up with air. His keycard hung on a lanyard around his neck and it swung lazily as he walked.

Reaching the final door that opened up to the corridor of labs, he held his breath as he scanned it, hoping and praying it didn't turn an ugly red. But he was buzzed in and he breathed out, muscle tension evaporating with the gas of his exhale. Now, he crept more quietly, the labs darkened with only minimal blue light, washing over his face as he walked from shadow to light to shadow. Glorified cages with walls of glass lined the wall, rooms that were large enough not to be inhumane but still too small to have any sort of freedom. Different sorts of blobs lay on the floor, some still moving slowly, some still.

About the third one along, there was a more humanoid form on the ground, and at first glance in the darkness, it might've seemed like a young adult sleeping on the floor. But at a closer look, the pallor of his skin, the stuck togetherness of his eyes, the too perfect features revealed an unsettling sense of otherness.

Simon tapped lightly on the glass, like children at an aquarium, and the figure started, features and limbs melting for a moment before reforming solidly, and standing. His eyes opened, much like an alligator, with a peeling open and film pulling back to reveal pale milky irises. He smiled, beatific, and raised his hand to press against the glass. His fingers were unnaturally smooth, lacking any of the wrinkles and scores of a human hand.

Simon mimed shushing him, his finger resting lightly against his lips, before pressing his card against the pad of the door. It beeped, and a keypad appeared. Pressing in the long code, Simon looked back at the door at the entrance to the corridor, anxiety coiling in his stomach the farther he got. Finally, a retinal scan, laser flashing against his eye before the door opened, the code EV-471 flashing up green on the screen. As soon as it did, Evan fell forward, hugging Simon with just-under-normal body temperature skin. Simon patted him on the back before pushing him upright and grabbing his hand. Miming quiet again, he pulled him out. Now it only took getting out of the facility.

Driving out in one of the black vans, Simon's fingers drummed against the steering wheel, looking at the passengers seat where Evan was sitting, fiddling with a pen that Simon had given him. He'd dressed him in a T-shirt and jeans, a change from the scrubs that he was in previously. Simon had been researching the civilians of the town throughout the past few weeks, going through the files that they'd been keeping for safety measures. He'd chosen someone called Charles Osmand Greenwood, a seemingly average citizen with a penchant for kindness. Hopefully that would keep him from reporting Evan immediately. His anxiety spiked again at the thought of that and he reached out beside him to run his fingers through Evans hair, reassuring himself that he was still there. Evan looked up, immediately curious and tilted his head towards his palm like a cat.

"Something wrong?" Evan's voice was quiet, and he signed as he spoke, a habit built up from communicating through thick glass walls.

"No, nothing's wrong, just a special trip today." Simon smiled, and returned both hands to the wheel after ruffling his hair a bit more. God he hoped Charles would turn out to be as good as his file suggested.

-- EVAN --

Simon had been planning a special trip for a while now. He'd told Evan not to be frightened, that he'd finally, finally be leaving the facility and staying with someone else. And he had to make sure not to revert too much, because that might scare the person he was staying with. He'd written this in his brain in big bold letters, a mantra that he would repeat when Simon had to leave every night. It was important that he didn't disappoint Simon, who said that it was very important Evan didn't tell any of the other scientists about this.

He understood that. The others tended not to be as nice, and only ever referred to him by his code, EV-471. Some of them looked at him in a way that made his insides ripple with an emotion that Simon said was called fear. Simon made him feel safe.

So they snuck out of the facility, Evan's feet silent against the ground and his hand gripping Simon's tightly. Evan was only a little bit shorter than Simon, and his height was the one thing that hadn't changed voluntarily. He'd gained more mass to manipulate as the years had gone by, but he had stagnated at this height, and with nothing else to use, he couldn't make himself that little bit taller. Simon said it was okay though, said he was tall enough anyway.

The new clothes that he'd been given were far more interesting that the plain blue crinkly ones he'd had before. He could feel the threads underneath his fingers and ran his hands over his thighs repetitively, the feeling of the material making his particles shiver. The rumble of the the van travelled all the way up from his feet to the top of his head, and he blinked rapidly, unused to anything like this. The initial rumble of the engine had made him deform again, a faint reminder of a machine, lights, and the pounding of fear fear fear. He didn't like thinking about his earlier memories.

Simon seemed nervous at the wheel, his eyes darting back and forth more so than usual, and his fingers and feet twitching to an unknown rhythm. Evan tilted his head watching him, and looked down at his own hands, tapping them on his knees. Simon had given him a pen, and he clicked that as well, tapping it against his palm, against his cheek. He loved the sound of it, the feeling of it against his skin, the plastic cold and rigid against his pliant muscles.

The car stopped beside a row of houses, and Simon unbuckled, leaning over to undo his seat-belt. He wait for Simon to get out and come around the side, opening the car door on his side. The night air rushed in and Evan breathed in, lungs expanding in his chest. It was always a novel feeling making his own organs. He didn't really need to, and if he didn't focus they kind of melted back into his body, but it was less unsettling if he had a heartbeat. At least that's what Simon had said.

Simon held his hand tightly as they walked around the house to the back, Evan reaching down to touch the grass and letting out a squeak of excitement at the novel feeling of it. They stopped outside the back door and Simon put his hands on his shoulders. He stared into Evan's eyes, and Evan smiled, cheeks bunching. And then, Simon hugged him, one hand resting on the back of Evan's head and the other tight around his shoulders. Evan brought his own arms up and wrapped them around Simon.

"Love you!" His voice vibrated against the coarse material of Simon's coat, and he tapped it out on his back in Morse code, repeating, i love you, i love you.

Simon breathed out, harsh in the quiet night and pulled back. "I love you too Evan. Don't be too much trouble okay? Don't freak out this nice man."

Evan nodded dutifully, and then waved as Simon backed away. Simon smiled back, and waved back, before going around the house again. A few moments later the car rumbled, and drove off. Evan waited, like he'd be told, until the car drove far enough that he couldn't hear it, and raised his hand to knock 3 times on the door.

 

[enkryptid]

"You gotta get out more, honey," Gertie Sweetes sat his dinner before him, the same as any other day, turkey sandwich with no mayo, honey mustard, and a side of greek salad to get his vitamins.

He grinned, "That's why I'm here, ain't it?" He winked, and Gertie flapped her thin wrist in his direction, chiding him, even though they went through this routine every day. She gave him a small smile, like the one Ma used to give him, back when she was still around. A lot of the older women did that to him these days. Not sure why. He was already a grown man.

He ate his food, with two hands, like a man, then diligently shoveled the healthier bits into his mouth to get it over with. Still couldn't stand the taste of vegetables, but Ma had told him to eat his veggies, so he darn well would. He wiped his mouth with the napkin, set down a ten dollar bill, and headed home.

His pager sat tucked in his chest pocket, where it was easiest to hear and feel when it went off, even though this was his night off. He still liked to keep it close. Just in case. Maybe there would be an emergency and Grandma Pike down on Morton St broke her back coming down the stairs. He had to be there for her. For everyone in this town.

He straddle the Harley between his thighs feeling it rumble and roar as it woke. He pulled on his helmet and cinched it tight under his chin. Can't have it falling off. With a kick of his heel, the Harley roared and he ripped down the street to his quiet suburban home.

It wasn't much. Well, not much of the town really was. Except for that big old facility by the mountain, but that wasn't really town. Gertie once said, "It's an eyesore and a whole lot of questions, and that makes folks around here uncomfortable." He couldn't help but to agree. It really was an eyesore. All big and round like some space dome. Their town wasn't meant for fancy things like that.

He rolled his bike into the garage, closing it after him. He kicked off his boots, his shirt, and his pants the moment he stepped across the threshold, heading straight to the bathroom shower, like he always did. He turned on the water, and stepped in, only to realize he'd forgotten to take off his socks. Dang it. The wet fabric splat against the tile floor as he focused his attention on the warm water. His mind blanked blissfully.

He could no longer hear the silence of this lonesome house. Didn't see images of Ma and Pa at the dinner table. Couldn't smell the waft of home cooked lasagna that Ma made just right.

When he stepped out, he was overheated, and opted for the towel around the waist. It's not like he was expecting anyone, and no one was expecting him. He flopped down on the old couch, the wires squeaking as his full weight bounced. He didn't fit, even when he scrunch himself up. He'd grown too wide in the shoulders, and his legs too long. Even the tiny flattened pillows seemed to fight him for space.

He must have drifted off when the door knocked. Three times.

With a quick sweep of his legs and a spritely leap, he pulled open the door, just as his towel untucked. His hand shot out with the fear of God in his muscles, and managed to save his chastity. Barely. "I'm sorry. I will be right back!" He couldn't think of what else to say, so he shut the door, diving into his room for some form of clothing, and pulling both pants and a shirt on at the same time. He dashed back to the door and knocked three times, opening it again.

"Hi, hello. Sorry about that. Would you like to come in?" He stood to the side of the door, opening it up further to let his visitor in before really seeing who it was.

In a town this small, one assumes they know everyone, since you've practically been raised by them all collectively, and went through grade school with just about every young person in town. But he'd never seen this person before, and something was… odd.

They were dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. Totally normal. Reasonable, but they weren't wearing any shoes. He poked his head out of the doorway, peering up and down the street for an idling car or a bicycle. Nothing. He frowned, but closed the door behind them anyways.

"People here call me Ozzie, or Oz. What about you?" He stuck out his hand, because that's what his Mah taught him to do.

His eyes met the visitor's, and his brain crashed into the boulder on the tracks. White eyes. That ain't no natural color. "You from the space dome over by the mountain?" He asked, because it felt like he'd made a good guess.

"You alright? Are you lost?" He asked. How had this kid managed to get all the way into this neighborhood. It wasn't even the better part of town. Would have been dangerous to come on foot. Especially without shoes.

 

[saturday shorts]

Evan smiled, as he had been told to when the door swung open. There was a man standing there with no clothes on, naked save for a towel that he had gripped between his legs. Evan furrowed his brow. He had been under the impression that humans were normally meant to keep their clothes on around other people. At least, he had never seen a naked human in real life before. Only in the anatomy lessons that he had been given on how the human body worked. This man looked like he had more muscles than those smooth faceless diagrams that he'd been shown, a body that looked...lived in.

The man ducked out of sight with an apology, and Evan waited patiently for him to return. He wasn't meant to enter the house without permission. When the door opened again, the man was clothed. Evan walked in with that invitation and blinked, looking around the small home. He hadn't been anywhere that had objects with no purpose, that hadn't been glass and steel and bright lights.

He took the man - Charles, although now he was telling him to call him Oz - 's hand, and shook it, a light amount of pressure.

"My name is Evan." He didn't have a last name to offer him, so he didn't. He blinked again, and looked up at Oz. Evan was shorter than him, and he stopped himself from frowning. If only he could stretch a bit more...

At the question of whether he was from the dome, Evan hesitated. Simon hadn't said not to say he was from the dome, just to make sure he wasn't taken back. Being taken back would mean the experiment was ruined, and Simon would be sad. And Evan didn't want to see Simon sad.

"Yes. But I dont want to go back." Evan widened his eyes, and made the expression that always made the scientists stop if they were doing something mean that hurt. Simon always laughed and said he looked exactly like a puppy. He could make himself cry, that was the response to being sad, or very scared, or sometimes very happy. He'd route in tear ducts on his face, pushing water into them. "I'm not lost, will you let me stay with you?"

He could feel the carpet on his feet, and shuffled a bit, fascinated with the feeling of it. He would wear shoes, but didn't want them now. There were too many new sensations, and he thought it would be weird to just bend down and start touching all of these new surfaces. He hoped Oz would let him stay.

 

[enkryptid]

Oh god in heaven, bless his weak soul, and forgive him for his quavering heart. The kid was just too vulnerable looking to send him back. Even if he did admit he'd come from that space dome and only God knows what he might really be.

But he looked human enough.

Someone would come looking for the kid. He was sure of it. He didn't know much about that facility, but he knew there wasn't much that got out of that place. Including the employees. They rarely interacted with the folks in these parts. Gave them a rather bad reputation among the knitting circle.

He palmed his cheek, then sighed, "Alright, Evan. You can stay, but I don't got no guest bedroom. You alright with the couch?" It wasn't the best situation.

The sheriff might know what to do. Maybe give him some advice. But then again, the sheriff might be under some obligations to report back to the laboratory. Then people would come and take the kid.

He hadn't looked physically injured, but that expression. Good god. What have they been doing to this poor kid. It couldn't be good if it brought tears to the kid's face. Made his stomach churn and twist. An unpleasant feeling.

"I don't got much, but what's mine is yours." He swept a hand around the small house that he could touch the ceiling in.

 

[saturday shorts]

Evan's mouth opened and he felt something rush and shiver through him. Happy? No, it was something more complicated, like he felt safe now, even in a strangers home far from his safe place. Safe person. He grinned up at Oz, hesitating before darting in and hugging him for a second. Simon had said not to hug him straight away, because that might scare him or that he might not like it, but Evan decided to do it anyway. Oz didn't seem like he wouldn't like being hugged.

He nodded at the mention of the couch, looking over at it. It was far from the steel floor of the laboratory, and he could only imagine how it would feel to sleep on something soft. Simon had tried to sneak in pillows and other things before but they'd all been confiscated, the scientists citing infection and Evan's ability to sleep anywhere with no negative effect, but he could remember the plush feeling of them when he lay down. He had tried to hang onto one of the pillows only once, before being shocked with something that felt like all his particles would fall apart, that shook every fibre of him until he couldn't reform for a day, shivering in his gelatinous blob form.

Evan peered around the apartment, and itched to explore, but instead went and sat on the couch. It sagged slightly but supported his weight, the volume of the couch pillowing around his thin arms and legs. His eyes darted around the room before he looked back at Oz. "Thank you for letting me stay. I promise I won't be any trouble." It was a good sign that Oz said that he could stay, but there was always the chance that if Evan did something too weird, Oz would decide to send him back to the lab. Evan had never been so focused on his solid human form, on ensuring that his limbs didn't start melting together, not forgetting to breathe and blink and have a heartbeat.

He hadn't heard anyone say that before. What's mine is yours. He puzzled over it for a second, whirring through it in his mind. What Oz owned, Evan owned? It didn't seem to make sense.

Evan had been allowed to socialise with some of the other experiments sometimes. He knew that he was different, that he could survive longer and better on his own, that he had a human form that none of them seemed to be able to make. But one of the experiments had escaped once. After being brought back, Evan was put in a room with them, and they told him what it was like to fuse. To become symbiotic, to share minds and purpose and body. Evan hoped he could bond with someone in the town, but it was one of the many things that Simon said he had to wait to do. They didn't know if it would hurt him or not, really, and it was something that Simon was sure the police would be called on.

 

[enkryptid]

The hug was cold.

Not like the way a can of pop is straight from the fridge, or touching snow with his bare hands, but more like the way pillows felt when you flip them over. Refreshing and comfortable. And slightly squishy. He didn't squeeze too hard, but it was odd feeling the softness of the skin. Like it was made of silicone, and not flesh. No hard bones under the layers.

He had a suspicion that perhaps they'd removed this kid's bones, and possibly injected his skin and muscles with some softener. Both of which did not fall in his categories of 'morally acceptable' or 'god-given'. He put a hand into the boy's hair, and ruffled it, because as awkward as it was to meet a stranger and accept them into his home without question, everyone needed a big brother.

He'd always wanted to be a big brother. Have someone to protect and watch over.

He let go, and Evan went to the couch. It sagged in all the right ways. The emptiness of the house filling with just the presence of this individual. As if he belonged here. A bubble of emotion croaked up his throat, remembering the long years alone, in these rooms. It was nice to have someone here again.

"Uhm, yeah, sure. No problem." He realized he was staring, so he swung his body towards the kitchen. "Are you… hungry? Do you want to watch TV?"

It was 9 pm by now. Nearly his bed time.

He opened his fridge door, though he rarely used it. It was empty. He opened the freezer door, and pulled out the carton of frozen waffles. "I've got waffles, or I could go into town. To get something you like."

He had no idea what he was doing.

Evan didn't know him. Didn't know all the issues he had, all the things he's been through, not like all the others in town. He didn't have to explain to them if he spoke strange, or did something odd. They knew. Evan, he had no idea how he'd react.

"Or we could just call it a night."

 

[saturday shorts]

Evan turned around on the couch, watching as Oz moved around the space. When asked if he was hungry, Evan had to consider. He had been fed on schedule, the meal of all the exact nutritions he needed to function being placed inside his glass room at the facility before Simon had come to take him. But that wasn’t to say he couldn’t eat more. This experiment was about Evan trying out other things than his usual routine after all.

So he nodded, propping his head on the back of the couch. “Yes please Oz, and to the TV as well.” He knew what the TV was, but the one in the labs was only ever used in his lessons, clips flying across it that served only the purpose of knowledge. His hands moved unconsciously as he spoke, lightly illustrating his words in front of him. His voice had a whispery tone to it, quiet with each syllable deliberate in his mouth, rolled around before he spoke it into the air.

Waffles. Waffles were sweet, and he licked his lips. Simon normally got him something sweet on his birthday, snuck it into the facility and gave it to him as a little celebration. He loved it, craved the flavour of it every year. The feeling of the sugary sweetness on his tongue and how it coated his mouth. He always had to fight against cramming the treats into his mouth every year, instead nibbling at them, making the taste last for as long as possible.

So he was happy with the choice, and expressed so, watching Oz as he did. Evan didn’t recoil at the idea of Oz leaving, but he already didn’t like the idea of being alone again. It wasn’t anything to do with his home, or the experiment, but Evan didn’t like being alone in the facility as well. It didn’t seem....fair if he had escaped the endless nights of nothing, only to have to spend time alone again.

“Just the waffles are fine. Please don’t go.”

He didn’t even know Oz yet, knew him even less than the scientists that barely spoke to him. But he already seemed better than them. He had to be if he let Evan stay in his home. Evan, who had sunk. His head behind his arms until only his eyes were visible, pushed up on the couch, craning his neck to see exactly what it was Oz was doing, how he would go about getting the seemingly very cold waffles to warm and sweet treats. Pushing up off the couch, he circled around until he was just close enough to see.

 

[enkryptid]

"Sure." He unwrapped a packet of waffles and tossed them into the toaster like he usually did, and pulled out the syrup from the pantry, poured it into a dish. He placed it in the microwave to heat it up. He turned and nearly jumped out of his skin, at the sight of Evan by his elbow. He didn't make a sound of fright, but his heart beat felt like it was about to run right out of his chest. He hadn't heard Evan move. Hadn't heard the couch squeak, or the footsteps. Or even the rustling of clothing.

His hand shook a little when he said, "It'll be ready in a minute or two." He folded his arms across his chest, to keep them from jittering, since he didn't want to scare the kid. It wasn't his fault that he'd been spooked.

"Uhm, the remote should be on the side table somewhere. At least, I think that's where I put it. You can pick the channel. There's also some movies, somewhere in this house, but they're old. You might not like them." He didn't mention that most of them were children's movies that he used to watch every day when he came home from school. He knew where they were. In his room, in a box, under his bed. He'd kept them there because when he watched them, he started to cry, and he didn't like that. Men didn't cry during children's movies.

"I'll get you some blankets and pillows." He cleared his throat a little as he walked to his room. He pulled them out of the closet. A fleece blanket to line the couch, and a thicker duvet to sleep under. He grabbed the pillow he didn't use off his own bed, and carried it back to the living room, just as the microwave and toaster dinged.

He dumped the blankets and pillows onto the couch, and pulled the plate out of the microwave, then pinched the waffles out of the toaster with his fingers. Grabbing a fork from the drawer, he slid it across the small island in the kitchen towards Evan. "You can leave the plate and fork there when you're done. I'll put them away."

He went back to the living room, and dressed the couch for sleeping, pulling the fleece around the cushions then piling the duvet overtop. He plumped the pillow up before setting it to one side. It looked comfy enough.

 

[saturday shorts]

Oz walked away from the toaster and Evan turned his head to follow him, before looking back down at it. It was small and metal, a heated tin can. Leaning his cheek on the palm of one hand, he watched the wire's inside heat to red, the waffles toasting until they would pop out warm and crispy. The syrup in the dish was turning slowly in the microwave. It glistened in the artificial lighting of the kitchen, warm amber that oozed sweetness, so much so that Evan could smell it in the air. The microwave rumbled slowly as it heated the syrup and Evan held his breath - stopped breathing - to hear all the other sounds that were around him, without the echo of air inside his head. He could hear Oz shuffling around the couch, the buzz of electronics, the world living.

It wasn't silent.

Then the toaster popped, the hiss of heat escaping, and the microwave stopped its rotation, dinging to alert of its finished product. Oz, who had just walked back towards Evan set about putting everything together in front of him. Evan dug in as soon as he was allowed, and his eyes widened at the sweetness, which he had remembered as just a shade of real flavour. The food in his mouth made him grateful to be able to taste, unlike some of the other experiments who only absorbed without any discrimination against taste.

He ate ravenously, suddenly far more hungry than he remembered. He supposed that was only normal after 18 years of being trapped in a laboratory.

Evan left the cutlery on the plate when he finished, the countertop clean around the plate. He'd been careful not to spill any of the crumbs or syrup that had threatened to drip off of the sweet parcels he transported to his mouth. Stepping back, he saw Oz, still surveying where Evan would be sleeping.

"Thank you for the food." He slipped under the blanket, feeling it pool around him and encase his limbs in a light cover of warmth. It moved whichever way he pulled and morphed it, no purpose but to give him comfort. Staring up at Oz, he hesitated before speaking.

"Tomorrow, in the morning, I probably won't be so....solid? Um, but once I'm awake I'll be the same so it's only if you wake up before me." He should at least give Oz a heads up about what might happen. He didn't want to scare the man at all, not after how kind he'd been.

Burrowing further into the just-made bed, he revelled in the softness that was lulling him to sleep, cushioning his head and making his naturally cold body warm. Rolling over, he stared at the ceiling, every blink leaving him staring at familiar darkness but with each opening reassuring him how different his surroundings were now.

He fell asleep quickly, for once with an absence of a core of unease.