Title: "Human"
Series: Smallville
Summary: Eric Summers makes a near-miraculous discovery while locked up at S.T.A.R. Labs.
Rating: PG so far.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
It took more than a few seconds for me to realize that the frightened voice drifting into earshot wasn't just a figment of my overactive, desperate imagination.
"Hello?"
This place was the closest I hoped to ever get to hell, and my mind had taken to filling in the blanks with flashes of memory that only served to remind me of just how much I had really lost. It would be easy to lose my mind here. If I hadn't already. That's why I had to ignore anything that might make me think I was anywhere but in my pitch-black cell in the bowels of this God-forsaken laboratory, alone and always just this side of cold.
"H-hello? Are you there?" Louder, this time, if not braver.
I knew there was nobody saying that. Nobody else there with me. Nothing to keep me company or distract me from the too-sterile room with the smooth walls made of what looked like plastic—but that I knew were something else entirely, something no one in Smallville had ever heard of, I was sure. But if it was one thing I was determined to do in here, it was to keep my wits as absolutely sharp as I could. Even when… even when…
"I know you're there." Another fervent whisper. Dammit. "Are you--"
"Shut up." Hoooo boy. Didn't I sound terribly forceful, commanding imaginary people now. Place was finally starting to get to me, I guessed. My father would have sneered at me for being so weak.
"I'm sorry." And the voice was… surprised. Taken aback.
Except…
Imaginary people didn't get surprised, did they?
I sat on the edge of my cot, my senses suddenly taut, my back straighter than I could have thought possible at the time, and found myself scooting closer toward the voice. Across the hall, maybe. I had no way of knowing.
The voice stopped whispering, and I discovered it was gently female. "It's just that I saw them bring you in, earlier, and I heard you moving around, and-- and I haven't—haven't talked to *anybody* in so—"
"Are you… real?" The words sounded insane, humiliatingly foolish, but they tumbled out of my mouth unbidden. The croak in my voice gave me a brief flash of worry… but it dissolved upon hearing the other voice give a hollow laugh into the darkness.
"I don't know any more, sometimes." The coupling of relief and sadness in her voice broke something inside me, and I knew instantly that she was just like me. Some kind of -- *freak*. Maybe from Smallville. Maybe someone I knew, someone—
And I wasn't going to afford myself that much hope. Not just yet. No way.
"I thought I was imagining you," I confessed dully, hoping it would explain some of my rudeness.
A silence that was too long, so long that my heart started pulsing at a furious beat, so terrified was I that the voice would be gone, and it was crazy but I didn't care because nothing, absolutely nothing made sense anymore, and who knew if—
"You're not. I'm really here." And, oh, believe me, I felt that bitter too, I really did. She went on. "What's your name?"
Ridiculously, I found I had no response prepared anymore. Nobody had asked me that in weeks. Nobody called me by my name any more. I was always just "the subject" or sometimes, when they were feeling generous, "the boy".
It took me a while to answer, but by this point, the long pauses seemed natural in the conversation. Hell, I was just so pitifully happy to be *having* a conversation. Finally, I gathered the nerve to respond.
"Eric." And my voice didn't crack, didn't falter. I sounded flat, but the rush of gratitude I suddenly felt for this one unlikely moment was so powerful that I could hardly speak. For the first time since I could remember, a sound was coming out of my mouth that sounded… human. "My name is Eric Summers. What's your name?"
A terribly quiet sob answered me. My face was pressed to the door in anticipation, inches away from the slot that was so close to the ground, through which the occasional meal slid, and which was now giving me this immeasurable gift of a voice that didn't strike terror into me. A rarity these days, believe me.
The owner of the voice cleared her throat, and said, with a lot more determination than probably either of us felt at the moment: "I'm Jodi. Jodi Melville."
I smiled into the tiny sliver of hazy, muted light that was slicing the unrelentign darkness in my cell. "You don't know how nice to meet you it is, Jodi."
Maybe it was just wishful thinking, some of that reality slippage I'd been worried about, but I didn't think so: I *felt* her smile back. "I think I have some idea. It's nice to meet you too, Eric."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
AUTHOR'S MEMO: So um. I may continue this. Not sure yet.
Series: Smallville
Summary: Eric Summers makes a near-miraculous discovery while locked up at S.T.A.R. Labs.
Rating: PG so far.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
It took more than a few seconds for me to realize that the frightened voice drifting into earshot wasn't just a figment of my overactive, desperate imagination.
"Hello?"
This place was the closest I hoped to ever get to hell, and my mind had taken to filling in the blanks with flashes of memory that only served to remind me of just how much I had really lost. It would be easy to lose my mind here. If I hadn't already. That's why I had to ignore anything that might make me think I was anywhere but in my pitch-black cell in the bowels of this God-forsaken laboratory, alone and always just this side of cold.
"H-hello? Are you there?" Louder, this time, if not braver.
I knew there was nobody saying that. Nobody else there with me. Nothing to keep me company or distract me from the too-sterile room with the smooth walls made of what looked like plastic—but that I knew were something else entirely, something no one in Smallville had ever heard of, I was sure. But if it was one thing I was determined to do in here, it was to keep my wits as absolutely sharp as I could. Even when… even when…
"I know you're there." Another fervent whisper. Dammit. "Are you--"
"Shut up." Hoooo boy. Didn't I sound terribly forceful, commanding imaginary people now. Place was finally starting to get to me, I guessed. My father would have sneered at me for being so weak.
"I'm sorry." And the voice was… surprised. Taken aback.
Except…
Imaginary people didn't get surprised, did they?
I sat on the edge of my cot, my senses suddenly taut, my back straighter than I could have thought possible at the time, and found myself scooting closer toward the voice. Across the hall, maybe. I had no way of knowing.
The voice stopped whispering, and I discovered it was gently female. "It's just that I saw them bring you in, earlier, and I heard you moving around, and-- and I haven't—haven't talked to *anybody* in so—"
"Are you… real?" The words sounded insane, humiliatingly foolish, but they tumbled out of my mouth unbidden. The croak in my voice gave me a brief flash of worry… but it dissolved upon hearing the other voice give a hollow laugh into the darkness.
"I don't know any more, sometimes." The coupling of relief and sadness in her voice broke something inside me, and I knew instantly that she was just like me. Some kind of -- *freak*. Maybe from Smallville. Maybe someone I knew, someone—
And I wasn't going to afford myself that much hope. Not just yet. No way.
"I thought I was imagining you," I confessed dully, hoping it would explain some of my rudeness.
A silence that was too long, so long that my heart started pulsing at a furious beat, so terrified was I that the voice would be gone, and it was crazy but I didn't care because nothing, absolutely nothing made sense anymore, and who knew if—
"You're not. I'm really here." And, oh, believe me, I felt that bitter too, I really did. She went on. "What's your name?"
Ridiculously, I found I had no response prepared anymore. Nobody had asked me that in weeks. Nobody called me by my name any more. I was always just "the subject" or sometimes, when they were feeling generous, "the boy".
It took me a while to answer, but by this point, the long pauses seemed natural in the conversation. Hell, I was just so pitifully happy to be *having* a conversation. Finally, I gathered the nerve to respond.
"Eric." And my voice didn't crack, didn't falter. I sounded flat, but the rush of gratitude I suddenly felt for this one unlikely moment was so powerful that I could hardly speak. For the first time since I could remember, a sound was coming out of my mouth that sounded… human. "My name is Eric Summers. What's your name?"
A terribly quiet sob answered me. My face was pressed to the door in anticipation, inches away from the slot that was so close to the ground, through which the occasional meal slid, and which was now giving me this immeasurable gift of a voice that didn't strike terror into me. A rarity these days, believe me.
The owner of the voice cleared her throat, and said, with a lot more determination than probably either of us felt at the moment: "I'm Jodi. Jodi Melville."
I smiled into the tiny sliver of hazy, muted light that was slicing the unrelentign darkness in my cell. "You don't know how nice to meet you it is, Jodi."
Maybe it was just wishful thinking, some of that reality slippage I'd been worried about, but I didn't think so: I *felt* her smile back. "I think I have some idea. It's nice to meet you too, Eric."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
AUTHOR'S MEMO: So um. I may continue this. Not sure yet.