When did you cry last?
How old were you when you stopped?
Somewhere behind you, a child was crying. A full throated scream that combined with the clippers' droning to speckle your vision in a nameless haze.
The vibrations of the clippers rattled through your skull and settled deep into your teeth.
Golden fluff floated down from where it had been shorn from your scalp, collecting in drifts with the rest of the hair of the floor.
Most of it was shades of black, or deep brown, with the occasional flashes of copper-red, and more unnatural colors made natural through scientific meddling in the womb.
They told you that your color is natural, but there was no real way of knowing.
There was a man in a white lab coat watching you from across the room, safe behind a wall of glass and steel.
You watched him back, and saw him scribble something down on his clipboard.
Loose hair was gently brushed from your face and neck.
Your barber was an android.
Quick and methodical, looking you over, beeping as they made minute calculations before nodding in satisfaction. A habit they'd picked up from the human staff on campus.
The android applied an antiparasitic foam to your bare scalp before scooting you out of the chair.
You told it 'thank you' with your hands, and were surprised when it signed back a 'you're welcome' before the still sobbing child was dragged into its chair by a different man in an identical white coat.
You liked the androids on staff, more than you liked the people.
You looked more like an android than you did a person, but so did many of the other children in the Facility.
Most of you was metal and wires.
Cold.
Unnatural.
CY-BURR-NEH-TICKS the human staff called them.
The stuff that replaced much of what had been flesh, bone, and blood.
You couldn't really feel anything below the neck anymore, but you'd been told that you still had organs in there somewhere.
A heart, still beating.
A stomach, churning with nausea.
It felt like a lie. That some part of you was still soft and warm.
Those were very dark and heavy thoughts for someone who was only eight years old, but given the shape of your life at the time you didn't exactly have anything else to think about except yourself and the lab and what went on inside of it.
For all intents and purposes, that lab and its concrete halls were your entire world.
And while you could remember the times before the lab, those memories felt uniformly hazy and upsetting so you spent very little time dwelling on any of them.
Except in dreams.
But you tried not to dwell on those too much either.
You didn't dream much, but when you did it was almost always nightmares.
The exact same nightmare.
One you'd been having as long as you could remember.
It made you unpopular with the three other children you shared a room with, you'd wake up screaming and scare everybody on your cell block in the process.
The scientists had taken to sedating you before bed in hopes that it would help somehow.
It just made the nightmares worse, but you didn't have the heart to tell them and possibly endure more of their tinkering outside of their (and by proxy, your) normal working hours.
You wandered back to Specimen Containment on your own, and sat on the edge of your cot in silence.
The room was small, but not cramped or cluttered. Someone had stuck stickers and posters all over the bare white walls in an attempt to give the space some color.
All the blankets and pillows were gone, and the entire cell smelled of industrial cleaners. You liked that smell, found a strange comfort in it that most people might find in the smell of their parent's cooking.
It was a sign that you'd been here for way too long, but that little tidbit wouldn't dawn on you until much much later in your life.
You tucked your knees against your chest and stared at a piece of broken plastic on the bare concrete floor.
A misplaced chunk of a broken toy.
Some of the children had toys and belongings from their lives before the lab, and some of the objects in your room had been left behind by previous occupants.
More toys, mostly.
Sometimes words on the walls, or papers tucked into hidden places.
Even though you couldn't read those words, or the little notes the others had left, you felt a certain thrill that came with having a special secret that nobody else knew.
There were people from other places outside the lab who would come with new toys and you were allowed to play with them, while they scribbled on their clipboards and asked you questions you didn't want to answer; like how the toys made you feel or if the colors were good.
You never got to keep those toys, but that was fine.
You didn't really play like other kids did, and the other kids didn't really want to play with you.
They found you unsettling, the scientists said.
More accurately, the other kids thought you were creepy because you couldn't talk and just stared at people.
You'd also bite when startled.
The science staff thought that you were creepy too, but they wouldn't admit it.
Not out loud… not to your face… probably.
They ran a bunch of tests when you first got to the lab to determine what exactly was wrong with you and when they didn't find anything conclusive, they decided that you were just some flavor of mute or autistic and called it a day.
And they weren't exactly wrong either.
There had been numerous attempts to give you a tablet-thing that would speak for you, but given your inability to read (and the fact that you just found the device cumbersome and intrusive) you preferred to use sign language instead.
At first, nobody consciously taught you how to sign.
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You just… watched and absorbed things like little kids are predisposed to do.
When you watched a deaf scientist move her hands in ways that the others seemed to understand, you just copied what she did until you got the desired outcome you were looking for.
And when that deaf scientist noticed what you were doing, she took it upon herself to teach you how to sign properly.
She also taught you how to swear, much to the distaste of her colleagues.
A knock on the doorframe startled you.
A kind, brown face smiled down at you, half hidden beneath a cloud of plum colored hair in tight coils.
"Hey kiddo, you lost?" The deaf scientist signed with a conspiratorial grin. She named herself Nala, after her favorite character from her favorite movie when she was a kid.
Learning that you could just pick your own name changed your entire outlook on life and immediately cemented Nala as your favorite person in the whole lab.
You grinned right back with your mouth full of sharp pointed teeth, "Why? You looking for me?" You signed in return.
Nala made a sound in her throat that might have been a laugh and crouched down until you were both eye to eye, her knees loudly complaining the entire time, "You should be with the others in processing."
You made a face, being unable to talk had given you the loudest body language anybody had ever seen. "Already got shaved and flea dipped, what else is there to do?"
Nala tilted her head, purple curls parting just enough for you to see her big brown eyes regarding you with an emotion that you immediately disliked.
"C'mon, you know that you're not supposed to wander around unsupervised." She held out her hand, not moving an inch until you took it.
Dented gray metal safely held tight against deep brown skin.
Your hands used to look like Nala's, you could remember that much. You both had the same brown face, the same wide nose, and thick lips even though you weren't related.
Nala always said that that meant you were Black like she was, despite your golden hair.
She took you back to the processing area with the other children, now shorn and sniffling.
You sat in the corner and hugged your knees while Nala spoke to the other scientists present.
You were bad with faces, but you knew the others by height and smell well enough and they knew you by your specimen ID number and the big fat sticker on your file that warned of your biting habit.
A tall spindly man named Doug and Intern 57, a woman who looked simultaneously like an adult and a teenager in the way people always do in their early twenties, stood nearby and spoke about something serious in low voices. They held their bodies in strange, tense ways as if afraid something bad was about to happen.
Doug had dyed green hair that never stayed vibrant for very long, and always ended up a seasick washed out shade within a few days. One of his more petty coworkers has christened him 'Doug the Nug' due to his color palette and off-putting odor.
Intern 57 was an unpaid live-in intern who got coffee and pens and stuff for the scientists when they needed them and put up with you and the other kids when she absolutely had to. She had an actual name of course, everybody had a name, but the lab liked to strip names from new people upon their arrival and swallow them whole.
Folks had to fight tooth and nail to get their names back and stop being numbers, or just did what Nala did and picked a new one.
You did not have a name, and this didn't bother you at all.
You had your number and people knew you by sight so that was all you needed.
Doug came and towered over you, his stench filling your nostrils and souring your stomach.
He smelled chemical and wrong, like the smoky little plastic tube he was always sucking on when he thought nobody was looking.
"Why are you all by yourself? Don't you wanna go sit with the other kids?" He was trying to be genuine and gentle but his awkwardness just made him seem creepy.
You shook your head and hugged your knees a little closer.
Doug frowned and looked over his shoulder for help, Nala wasn't paying him any attention. Intern 57 was though, she shot him a rude gesture that made you giggle.
The sound made Doug grimace on reflex, he immediately started tripping over himself in an attempt to apologize.
You didn't really care.
People found you off-putting, and that was fine.
You watched him wander back to the others uncomfortably. Nala patted him on the back sympathetically.
"I like your ears." The voice's close proximity made you jump. You whipped your head around to find the source and ended up face to face with a little blonde girl with the biggest blue eyes you had ever seen. "Can I touch 'em?"
You stared at her for a while, your gray eyes burning into her blue until the inky abyss of her pupils seemed to swallow you up and anxiety started to dance down your spine.
You looked around for help but found none, and ended up pointing at another kid a ways away from you.
You weren't the only Specimen in the Facility with rabbity features, not by a long shot.
3037 had big cybernetic lop ears that went down past her shoulders, but the tips of them were perpetually wet because she kept putting them in her mouth.
1014 had ears like yours, except his were covered in soft synthetic fur and weren't as articulated.
Your ears were plain gray metal and silicone. Naked prototypes meant to test motion and durability and nothing more, surely this little bug eyed creep would get the idea that you weren't that interesting and leave you alone.
She did not get the idea, and almost immediately reached for your head moments after speaking.
You flicked your ears back and away from her probing fingers but that just made her eyes widen. She shuffled closer to you until you were pinned against the wall, and gently ran her hands along the backs of your ears like one might do with a real rabbit.
She didn't move back when you growled, she didn't flinch when you snapped your teeth at her.
And when your teeth met and broke the skin of her arm she didn't even make a sound.
The salty metallic taste of her blood in your mouth made you queasy immediately.
She gazed at the bite for a long long while and you expected her to scream or to hit you but what happened next had you dumbfounded.
Her skin glowed like hot metal around the wound and began to knit itself closed until there was no evidence of your assault at all except for a quickly drying smear of blood that she wiped off on her pants before talking to you again like nothing happened. "Can you talk it's ok if you can't my handler says I talk enough for two people my name is Specimen 37 do you wanna be friends do you like chocolate I love chocolate what about bugs isopods are my favorite cuz they come in so many colors--"
Pale freckled hands with long bony fingers reached down and scooped up 37 while she was still mid sentence. The man they belonged to carefully maneuvered the girl until she was gingerly balanced on his hip. 37 grinned, eyes sparkling as she pointed down at you and you noticed that her nails were painted to match the strange man's. "Hubie! Hubix Cube! Look! I found a bunny, I don't think he can talk but he bit me and let me touch his ears so I think he likes me. Can we be friends?"
Hubie flashed you an apologetic smile that reminded you of a fox with its leg in a trap, something you'd only ever seen in the nature documentaries that Nala let you watch after working hours.
"Did he LET you touch them, or did you help yourself again Duckie?" Hubie drawled in a strange accent that you found out later was Irish.
Specimen 37 receded into herself like a guilty puppy and fidgeted with her hair, twirling it with a finger. Her silence was deep and palpable in ways that made you feel anxious and uncomfortable by osmosis.
Hubie sighed through his nose, clearly disappointed. "That's what I thought, you know that you're not supposed to touch people without their consent, love."
Specimen 37 hung her head and whimpered, "Yessir… sorry sir…"
The man ruffled the girl's hair and looked like he was about to console her before she could burst into tears, only to be interrupted by Nala tapping him on the shoulder. Nala gave Hubie a bright, professional smile from behind a surgical mask and offered a newly gloved hand to shake.
Intern 57 stood beside her, dressed similarly in her own mask and gloves, "Hello, you must be Doctor Downfall with the new science team, we weren't expecting you until tomorrow. This is Doctor Phipps, she's deaf but can read lips, however I will be interpreting her ASL for you if that's necessary."
Dr. Downfall nodded at the intern and shook Nala's hand firmly, "Yes, Doctor Hubris Willoughby Downfall at your service. Excuse the intrusion, this one got away from me while we were in quarantine." He jostled 37 playfully, making her laugh. "Though I understand the need for such… thorough procedures, I can assure you that my team and I are quite clean."
Nala nodded in understanding, eyebrows raised and apologetic, "You know how it is, protocol protocol protocol." She made an odd gesture like everything was out of her control and she was just as much a victim of the protocols as him. "Some of our specimens have very sensitive immune systems, a side effect of the testing and the sterile environment."
She produced a plastic package containing a mask and gloves from the deep pockets of her coat and handed it to Hubris. "We don't have any kits that could fit your companion, I'm afraid."
Hubris opened the package with his teeth, his canines long and capped in gold. They made him look even more like a fox than before. "It's fine, I have a mask her size in my pockets. We'll make our way back to quarantine shortly, but it was nice to finally meet you." He slipped on the mask first, then rummaged around in his pockets for 37's.
The little girl fussed and held her face out of Downfall's reach when he tried to put it on her. However he knew all her tricks and managed to mask the child before setting her down and putting on his gloves.
"Come along Duckie." He said, taking the child's hand. 37 looked at you from across the room and pointed to you, tugging on Dr. Downfall's hand in excitement.
"Can he come too?"
Ice bloomed in the pit of your stomach.
Nala's eyebrows furrowed as she followed the girl's pointing finger. You two made eye contact.
You shook your head in a vehement 'no', lips pressed into a Thin Grim Line, waving your hand in a slicing motion across your throat for good measure.
"Sure!" Nala signed, "Be careful with him though, he bites."
37 smiled a gap toothed smile, vibrating with excitement, "That's OK he bit me once already!"
Nala might have given you A Look, but you couldn't see it from where you were on the ground, in a ball, with your face in your hands.