Imani slammed the carriage door and let it merge with the rest of its metallic frame. She tip tapped down the wide concrete stairs and glided through the glass doors that proudly waved posters of future facility events. She then stood at the entrance to the commons. Cones of vision swept left and right rapidly until the seat she had been assigned to was identified. It took the appearance of a preschooler's plastic saturated blue chair though this one was a bit larger than usual. It would have benefited greatly from a soft cushion but her jacket would have to do for now.
The backpack that held so dear to her shoulders fell to the shiny marble floor. It slumped back with the logo staring at one of the ceiling lights. A pointer and index tightly gripped to the zipper that hung from the side. Humble satisfaction slithered around inside Imani as the zipper was brought up and around the backpack. The large pocket spread itself outwards slightly, though it needed to have itself spread further. The interior walls were peeled back by her to reveal books without names leaned against its walls, cozy and undisturbed.
Squished in between nameless books and notebooks laid a facility branded laptop. She pressed her fingers through the cracks that separated the laptop from everything else and used all of the strength that bubbled in her fingertips to yank the laptop out of the backpack. Carrying it like a crane, she swiftly moved it to the desk and opened up the oddly stiff clam of a laptop. Her fingers sped to 100 mph as they typed in the password to the computer. The cursor spun in infinity signs till they decided to click on the Google icon and go on random websites about retro games. Half an hour was plenty of time to obtain useless knowledge on subjects people could care less for.
Like a record in its player, time spun away effortlessly until the facility bell slashed Imani's attention in half. An electric jolt shocked her to get up from her chair and rush to her first class. She scooped the laptop into the backpack and snuck into the crowd of people. They didn't quite look like people. As far as Imani could tell, it was just a bunch of guys and gals with contorted mannequin heads and different yet oddly similar wigs. They all wore the same worker uniform that she had to wear. She zipped the bag back up as she attempted to blend with the rest of everyone else.
Eyes surrounded her. Then the sounds of whispered voices followed suit. Laughter held hands with the words from the voices as they hovered around her. Ooohh, why hasn't that girl zipped her backpack up? Why is she just running around with it in her hands instead of her back? Her backpack should just work, she shouldn't need to constantly fix the zipper. What a weirdo. Her vision swiped the hallway erratically as she sped walked down the hallway and near the first floor's workroom.
Her arms gave into the weight of the bag and let it fall to the ground, leaning over to the direction of the door. She shook off the weak hands that clung to her wrists as some sort of respite from the heavy bag's strain. Its messy yet held together pile called a backpack became Imani's new seating place until it was decided for the door to become unlocked. Imani sat and stared off into an alternate world that created itself in her head and the wall opposite of the door. She could see the odd video games she played in that world. They became reality and the characters that inhabited those separate worlds came together into one fun, weird, and playful world. Imani could even recognize herself, frolicking amongst the rest of the small dwarf creatures, lanky worm people, and other unique specimens.
Jingling. That familiar sound replicated its being behind Imani. It seemed to be of keys clashing and being fumbled around until the intensity of the sounds quieted. Her trance with the world beyond snapped in an instant and she frantically put her things together and held up what she could. The faculty member twisted the handle and pushed the door open. He gave a quick glance behind himself and chuckled at the little spark that snapped her from her intense focus then sat at his desk, setting up all of the little gadgets he needed for that day's lecture. His glance created a trembling feeling inside of her hands and added on to the difficulty that already faced her. Imani went to the desk she'd been placed at for the last half a year and let her belongings worm their way out of her fragile hands and to the withered carpet.
Frozen molecules rubbed against her to the point that it awoke the goosebumps that hibernated on her surface. She hoped that her hands could fight back although they did very little to heat up her forearms. Her body promptly gave into the pressuring cold and shivered rather violently from the whiplash that was the temperature change. As the stale air tickled her skin, she flipped through the guts of her backpack and pulled her laptop out once more. The routine she'd cycled through previously began once more, as it did every time there'd been nothing for her to do. Humanoid figures glided across her peripheral vision, though they were blocked out by the attention that sat next to her and scrolled alongside Imani as they both viewed interesting trivia of games then oddly moved to facts on plant organisms.
A ringing sound aroused her away from the laptop and psychically told her to prepare for work. The clam had its overextended jaw slammed shut by the young girl and put away back into its snug home. The room had been sufficiently filled at each desk with the workers assigned. Imani had thought she knew them although her memory served to block those faces from ever being retained inside. At this point, they were all amorphous blobs; chattering and spilling words that blended together and became white noise. These distorted, unrecognizable parts of the people that she always sat near always sent little spiders down her arms and back and had her eyes look to their shoes: the least disgusting thing to stare at. Everytime her eyes came into contact with them she either wanted to just look away or get away as fast as possible. She feared not just their appearance but the things they said as well. When Imani wasn't inside her own little world, she focused in on some of their voices just like the indistinct crowd of the halls. She heard her criticisms of her. Or maybe they weren't talking about her. She couldn't tell anymore but whatever the case was, the creatures came across as hostile and uninviting. Something you wouldn't want to interact with.
The faculty member got up from the seat that previously glued him down and he proudly situated himself in front of the labor collective. The duo that was his hands and mouth began to speak for him as he instructed his assigned workers. Imani had forgotten what she was supposed to work on at this point and let her brain dunk it inside the trash can that squat at the workroom's entrance. As the faculty member spouted words that entered one ear and left the other, Imani noticed an oddity in the corner of the room. Another ethereal portal stretched itself open ever so slowly. Slimy arms wiggled their way through the portal and towards Imani. Her eyes widened as she looked to her other classmates yet they didn't notice the creature making its way to her. Her body locked and waited patiently for the inevitable.
The implied slime coiled itself around her arms and gracefully lifted her and pulled her from the room. The portal brought her to a sea of space. The coil uncoiled and had her floating over the waves of invisible particles. Their liquid structure ran far, far away to its homestead and left Imani alone to herself. Mr. Space's tips massaged her shoulders to loosen her to the new environment she had to adjust herself to. Whispers and lullabies were passed around her to further the soothing feeling she needed. Strings that had been strut rung themselves once more and connected her hands to her torso. Her position morphed into the one the dead enjoyed most. A coffin shape she took, it put her into comfort more than the screeching and sharp placement of bent limbs and sore spines.
He sank Imani down below space's ocean and into a desolate plain of destruction. The fields were green but the towers that once flew buried themselves with their obnoxious greys and browns. Tanks that corroded near bubbled as violets that made their presence to those viewing clear. Curiosity held Imani by the hand and led her to one of the sleeping tanks. It welcomed her to its top and carefully slipped her inside. Her arms moved to the controls of the tank with little effort from her mind. She peered into its worm binocular that'd been taller than a giraffe. Surveying the area, the abandoned plains contained one anomaly; or at least it was an anomaly for this alternate world. Children of the same age range as Imani. Their faces distorted, even more so than the ones of school. They crowded in groups of three to five discussing something. The distance was unclear although her name could be heard poofed out from a couple of their mouths.
Once the name was interpreted, her core started to vibrate violently. Imani's heart forced its worried appendages in the nerves and joints that controlled her arms' tips. As soon as the creatures stopped and waited for some sort of answer to a question unheard and unspoken, the girl's heart slammed every button inside the tank possible to scare or destroy those things. Words that formed "uhms" and generic answers to questions shot themselves out and sent splashes at the creatures. They nodded in unison with smiles hidden behind their faceless masses and slammed in their beetle shaped cars' seat belts into their sharp, stiff buckles. Jabbing in their car keys, they twist them together and drive away in very erratic patterns like they've never touched the 3 and 9 o'clock of the wheel.
Imani relaxed back into the tank's worn rubber seat. Her center cooled down, her eyelids joining along and dropped themselves over her eyes. All discomforts melted to the outside air while Imani let skin on her bones cuddle the seat she sat in. Her mind voluntarily numbed the body and massaged the intensity inside her soul. Tiny birds chirped with glee. The dandelions followed its brethren in the wind. The air that lifted open the tank's hatch brought a sense of freshness and liveliness. A sort of feeling you could never achieve through the artificiality of man-made buildings and the giant fog machines that powered their respective cities.
As she settled into her meditative state, she began to phase through the tank's body. Slivers of its metal and paint disappeared to the clouds that napped on top of the grass. Eventually, the clouds and blue above consumed what was left of the tank's far spread particles. The infinite field's soil became her kingdom of comfort and the wind and birds became its decoration. Although her eyes were closed for the moment, she could still picture her soundings in the same detail it would take to have you see them in the moment. She could imagine it: the elongated, occasionally bumpy hills that make up the landscape, the trees that provide the kingdom's walls, the ponds that were carefully sprinkled around like they were bullets shot into the Earth. Fresh morning dew brought the infinity and Imani back to a time of innocence. A time of running around a preschool's playground with little to no stress. The complete feeling of that innocence hadn't returned yet— only a fraction of what it used to be. A tiny fuzz ball's worth of that feeling came back but the ball was powerful.
Lawn mowers of wrath buzzed across the grass. The nostalgic ball of joy was caught within the lawn mowers' sight lines and in turn, mangled Imani underneath. Shock coursed throughout her as shot forward into the table in front of her. She left her peaceful trance and re-entered into one of the many rooms that held an uncanny discomfort above her narrow shoulders. A couple of blinks gave her a moment to figure out the new environment her mind haphazardly joined and put together what she could so she could get by if approached or questioned. Ninth floor, she believed. The same group of workers she'd seen previously from the morning had collected with her in this part of the facility, just like earlier.
A machine made of metals had holes that were thick enough and deep enough for human fingers. Ten holes of darkness stood before her, growing hungry for hands. She refused, though, due to fear of what they could do to her.
As Imani became slightly scared of the machine, her hands responded by growing independence and fidgeting wildly. They picked at the device that danced in front of her as some kind of mechanism to escape back to the world that formerly surrounded her. Her legs gained confidence from her hands' actions and began jumping up and down rapidly in delayed intervals. Each kick grazed the white noise carpet floor. A bomb inside ticked down, waiting for the moment that it would inevitably explode. The clock clicked around the tiny dot in its middle until continuously slowing its thin arms. Everything around sped up yet time slowed down; an odd middle ground of minor annoyance and discomfort for the young girl.
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I need something to think about. I can't really think about anything, ugh. Hmm. A small break from fidgeting had her tap the headphones she wore to remind her of their existence. I like the music I'm listening to. It's kind of melancholic and sad but I like it despite that. It's strangely comforting, like a lullaby. It's probably too niche for others to enjoy though. I'd love to share my favorite songs and stuff. I'm just scared of my tastes getting rejected, ya know? Maybe I should think of something else that's less sad, haha. Hm, I wonder why there's so many pipes on the wall? Are they for water? Air?? Are they planning to pump cyanide throughout the entire building and kill us all??? I don't know and it probably wouldn't be useful to ask. Not a good conversation topic either, too bleak for strangers or weird. I don't know, I kinda just wanna go home at this point. Do something fun, other than-
"Hey Imani, how are you?" A girl twisted her stomach 180 degrees to make eye contact easier between the both of them. She saw the distortion contorted into something else. Once the distortion ended, Imani could see that her face appeared more recognizable as human than the others. The temperature faded slightly as she stared into the girl's eyes. Sort of nostalgic, like meeting an old friend. Although instead it was one of the workers at the facility that she'd seen the last couple years she'd worked there. She thought she knew her at least, she didn't really pay attention to those that worked around her. The girl's hair was the same as the rest yet was slightly shorter and darker colored than them. They parted upon each shoulder and seemed quite clean and proper compared to Imani's more messy hair with thousands of individual strays.
"Oh, I'm fine, what about you?"
"I'm pretty gooood, thanks! Got anything planned this week?" The fidgeting grew more pronounced the longer she had to put thought towards forming a gift called words and sentences.
"I don't know, probably just hike and tend my cacti more at home. Stuff like that."
"That's cool, that's cool..." The girl trailed off as she quietly and awkwardly untwisted her body and blended back in with the rest of them. Imani's fidgeting dissolved down to the way it had been just a moment ago. Even though anxiety hit with unexpected force, Imani had hoped to form some sort of connection with them but she was realistic. Nobody wanted to be her friend. She never approached anyone for a chat and gave responses that warranted a silent "go away" or were unable to do anything with. But that girl could've talked about the cacti she had, right? Maybe she wasn't interested. Imani wasn't a very interesting girl, unfortunately. She didn't really think or talk about the topics that other people talked about. She'd come off like a nerd if she brought them up. Or maybe too annoying. She was interested in talking about the stuff she'd been working on. But again, that'd be really self-centered, right? She didn't care about the news or any more general topic that others were interested in. She was just some boring girl. Or at least a weird one. Something not normal. A mistake, almost. A disappointment. Something that could be more. But she could be more if she had friends. But nobody wanted to be her friend. An endless and painful cycle that could only be broken by confidence that never existed in the first place. What did she do wrong to deserve this? What did she do wrong?? What did I do wrong???
The ticking continued. Its rate compared to before increased considerably. It began ticking towards something different than before; it was the tear ducts that burrow underneath Imani's eyelids. She could feel them try to squirt water out and redden the cheeks below. With what willpower she had left she suppressed and held back the ducts' offensive. The warfare between emotions and the physical felt as if she was a magnet trying to push towards another magnet of opposite forces. Shaking intensified. Her hands and legs were more autonomous and everything edged closer to violent implosion within herself and at the same time a loud explosion on the outside. The dumbbells on her mind and shoulders grew in weight and density. Expanding and expanding until a loud chime penetrated her emotions once more with a long, refined spear. The chiming persisted, screaming politely to those who still clamped their hands inside the twirling mechanical apparatuses.
As one entity, the people rose from their chairs and left the room in a single file line. Imani left the quarters of her mind for a moment so she could grab her things and leave for the final cycle of the day. She narrowly caught the end of the line and proceeded at the same tempo as the rest of the group.
The people marched similar to the march soldiers preparing for battle or like robots leaving the assembly lines that gave life to them. Imani let her eyes wander for a moment and noticed other lines of people, moving to their next destination. They had the same robotic rhythm as the line she was chained to and had traits shared by the other carbon copy molds that she shared a work class with. Same distorted face, twisted body, the non-stop talking from them, everything. They still had some small differences between individuals, but as a whole, little was given to separate who from who.
Imani left her bag against the white brick wall. She wrapped around to the other side of the wall and sat herself down. She watched as the rest of the mass scuffled to the middle of the giant room. Balls of the same gray color and shape laid strewn across the floor as individuals broke off to play games with them. They formed groups from 2 to 5, tossing the ball, rolling it, throwing, kicking, anything to entertain each other. It was a foreign form of entertainment to Imani. She didn't understand why they would enjoy it. Plants are way more interesting. Their functions and bodies were complex and beautiful. There was so much she could talk about when it came to plants: but what could you talk about when it comes to some plain 'ol ball? It's just a ball, nothing much to it. Nothing to discuss about it. Maybe besides "this ball is fun to throw" or something but again, there wasn't enough complexity to warrant discussion. Maybe this was why people didn't talk to her. She didn't enjoy the same things they did. A conflict of interest that blocked new relationships. Hm...
Imani paced across one of the lines that intersect the thousands of other white lines that covered the floor. Her pockets caught her hands as they hopped inside to get snuggled in. The neck that held tight to her head relaxed itself and let her head hang back. As it fell back, her eyes glided up and began to stare at the ceiling. The ceiling pushed so high it could've poked through the endless dreary cloud in the sky. A skyscraper with a single floor.
Several minutes had passed. She must've been on lap 7 or 8 by now. As she walked, something started to claw at her. It was like it was trying to leave through her ear. It was a person, a creature, something. She stopped for a second and then felt a hand somehow worm its way out. It pushed on her jaw as the rest of the creature slimed out of her brain. It fell to the floor though it got up in haste as it wildly looked around at its surroundings. Imani took a minute to analyze it. Same uniform as her, same face, hair... could it possibly be herself?
"Hello, I'm Thoughts. Nice to meet you, Imani." The girl's hand reached out towards her, waiting for Imani to latch on and shake it. She hesitated before eventually grabbing hold, shaking it a little bit. They held hands for way longer than expected before they both simultaneously let go.
"I think you should leave me alone right now, I'm kinda busy."
"I can't leave you alone. Also, that was rude. How would you feel if a stranger said that to you? Or a close friend?? Hmph, you're probably just a rude person in general." Imani sighed, flowing back into her routine of walking in ovals around a secluded part of the room. Though try as she might, Thoughts continued to follow her.
"You can't leave me, I'm you. The part of you that talks to you every day and night. And you're clearly troubled right now, so, what's the problem?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"If you didn't, you wouldn't constantly think about it. Just let it out right now."
"Before you were calling me rude, now you want me to just— let out my feelings???"
"Do you not trust yourself? Just tell me."
"Ugh, okay, fine." Imani fixed what she could of her messy ball of hair and rubbed her forehead a bit before continuing.
"I feel alone here. I have no one to talk to almost everyday. I can't start proper conversations or even carry the ones that do spark up. And everyone's face is all blurry and scary. I'm scared of what they'll think. Because, you know, I do have interesting stuff to talk about but it's all plant related. It's hard for me to bring up topics that aren't related to it so I just try not to. And like, I'm scared that they'll think that I'm just some weird plant girl that can't really socialize in any sort of way. It's like I'm trapped in a prison of my own mind. Stuck forever to talk to myself about dumb plant facts and shrivel just like the ones that never taste a drop of water."
"Well, you should probably just not be ashamed of who you are present to people without guilt for the things you think or like."
"But I can't. My fear doesn't just, go away if I think that. Because then my instinct kicks in to walk away awkwardly until I turn to dust."
"If you don't have confidence, you can't do anything. Just have confidence, please."
"I can't. I don't why I can't but I can't. I wasn't built that way. I wasn't built to know how to walk up to people and just talk. It's hard leaving the old facility where all of the faces were clear to a new facility where everything is new, uncanny, and terrifying. It's been so long since that old facility too or at least feels like it. I don't know if I'll ever adapt."
"Why do you make everything hard for yourself?"
"I don't know. I just want friends or a person to talk to. A shoulder to cry on. Something. I want a deep connection with someone here so I can try to feel less lonely in my sad, miserable life. There are some people I want to talk to too. Whenever the faces become ever so slightly clearer they look like a cool person I could talk to. Every glimpse gained at their personality I grab on to and think about. I can vividly imagine just, hanging out with them and being friends with them and talking about anything with them. Or getting a genuine 'how are you' from someone who wants to know how I'm feeling or just care. But it never happens. I don't get it, I just don't."
"Maybe you're just waiting for a friendship to fall into your lap without putting in any of the effort to get it."
"Maybe, just maybe. I don't know how to put in that effort. If I just had the strength I would. Thinking about this is useless, can we talk about something else?"
"Nope, we gotta talk about this."
"Ugh, why? I don't want to think about these things. I'm always stuck on them, these chances I have I never take advantage of. Always and forever an outsider. Looking at the people who are making the most of their lives. While I'm just a short, dinky little cactus."
"Hmm, I don't really know how to help you besides just telling you to go out and make some friends. But maybe it's too late for you. That's for you to figure out."
"Do you mean you? Because these are all my ideas. To be confident but also thinking I'm insignificant and lonely. I don't know anymore. I just don't." Rrrring. Break was over. It was time for the faculty and workers to go home. They all let the balls fall to the ground and bounce for eternity— the balls left in torment alone. They grabbed the bags lined up against the large white wall and left, chattering and talking to each other. Thoughts disappeared into a puff of smoke and fire, leaving Imani by herself once more. A frown smeared slowly across her face as she grabbed her things and trudged towards the glass exit.
Tiny floating carriages consumed each person, flying away once grabbed. Imani stationed herself at the curb that sat in front of the glass doors and watched as each desaturated vehicle left, one by one. As they left, she distracted herself by looking at the buildings that surrounded the facility. There was a police station, a mid-sized suburban neighborhood, and a gas station. They always taunted her curiosity. Who could live inside those homes? Who could work at those other places? Why don't I have any friends?
Not even ten minutes passed before all of the vehicles had left. She looked into the melancholic sky as she was left alone at the abandoned building. The gray sky scrolled across until it reached itself, where it would repeat its pattern. Another sigh left Imani as she waited for her guardian to get her out of this forsaken place. Her fingers fiddled and played with each other as a reaction to the time wasted being cuffed there. Imani could feel a presence behind her. It was Thoughts. She re-emerged in silence, though instead of saying anything, she sat next to Imani. Thoughts gave her a look. She slung her arm around her neck before pulling Imani for a hug as they both sat, staring into the sky's void. Imani could feel tears creep though once more, they never came. She stopped fiddling and wrapped her arms around Thoughts. They both waited. They waited and hoped for better.