The Shape of Loneliness

Chapter 4 A Friend

Riene, 2017

He knew the routine by now. A long period of darkness, where it was usually safe to sleep. The bright time, when the cruel ones came. And then the time for E-L-I-S-A, the only reason he did not utterly despair. There would be eggs, and music, companionship and quiet, an ease of the aching loneliness.

The bright period had been unpleasant again. He had been pulled from the water and shackled to the plinth. Cold hard metal plates had been put under his body, and a towering, heavy machine had been dragged in, positioned over him, and then all of the pale ones left the room. It had hummed repeatedly, then they had turned him over, repeating the same actions. It had made no sense, but then, little these pale land-dwellers did made sense.


The night shift, once a time of darkness and loneliness, save for Zelda, had become a source of delight. Elisa dreamed of the creature in the tank during her hours of sleep, and thought of him during the day, trying not to imagine what new horrors they were tormenting him with. She'd taken to visiting different grocery stores in order to buy eggs. Without a voice, she could not even make up a lie or excuse—I'm a baker. My children like eggs—so she simply smiled and changed stores when the cashier frowned and curiosity became judgmental. She experimented with cooking times, finding he liked them just slightly underdone.

He had liked the music, she was sure, and thus Elisa began to bring more records, hiding them in her personal locker during the day. She played them in turn at night, dancing with her broom or mop while he watched, imagining dancing with him. Could he dance, she pondered? He had never completely emerged from the water, but if his feet were like his hands, they'd be large, long, heavily clawed. He watched her from the tank and from the cylinder as she moved around the room. Did he too dream about being free, about touching her?

The bathwater flowed, filling the old tub, and she ran her fingers through it, mesmerized, dropping her robe on the floor and slipping into the water. Elisa allowed the tub to fill to nearly the rim, and slid down beneath the water, opening her eyes and looking up at the rippling surface. Is this what he saw? How odd the lights looked, and the walls.

She floated upwards, her face rising above the surface into the cooler air, taking a breath. Her legs and arms floated free, drifting slightly, her mind occupied with distant thoughts. Slowly her hands rose, crossing over the body, smoothing the flat surface of her stomach to cup her breasts, then lowering, stroking herself in the hot water. She had never had a lover. Had he ever had a mate? How would they love each other, floating in the water, legs entwining, bodies sliding against one another. One hand made small, circling motions, disturbing the water in regular patterns, as the other idly caressed her skin, envisioning him and another, another whose body was her own.

She arched and shuddered, the waves of pleasure slowly receding into diminishing tingles. Reluctantly Elisa washed and dressed, making toast, and borrowing eggs from Giles' refrigerator as he watched quizzically. She'd get an extra carton on the way home later and replace them.

Even the bus ride had become less routine and more of space in which to daydream. She placed the latest records carefully on the seat and traced the raindrops flowing along the window, wondering what this night would bring.


Zelda placed the broom back into the holding clip of the yellow cart and pushed the heavy wheeled unit out into the hallway, looking down the corridor. No Elisa. A month ago she'd been the first one finished, often coming down the hall to help clean the rooms Zelda hadn't yet managed. Now she spent every moment in the T-4 lab, rushing through her other duties.

The older woman shook her head. She'd seen the thing in the holding tank, had taken Strickland's warnings to heart. A God-fearing Christian woman, she didn't need to be told twice about demons. But perhaps Elisa did. The way her eyes went all dreamy soft at quiet times was worrisome. Elisa acted like a woman in love, but as far as she, Zelda, knew, there was no man in her life. The girl was too imaginative for her own good, easily hurt, and Zelda continued fretting, not liking the direction of her thoughts.


He crouched angrily in the farthest part of the tank, aching in body and mind, wanting only for E-L-I-S-A to be there. The hateful ones had tried, over and over to get him to carry a heavy metal object, to swim to the other side of the tank, to press the object against a metal plate, where it stuck.

He had grasped their desire almost immediately, infuriated by repetitive nature of the action, teased by tiny offerings of food, food withheld if he did not perform for them in a certain amount of time. This task was important to them and after the first few times, he refused to cooperate. The black cylinder of pain struck him repeatedly, and eventually he knew no more.


Cleaning over for the evening, Elisa propped the broom and wet mop against the cart and settled the record player by the tank. He was there in an instant, dull grey-green scales warming, flushing salmon and rose as his golden eyes watched her. She set the needle on a Benny Goodman album and laid out a row of eggs for him, nibbling on her sandwich as they ate together.

Compelled by a desire and emotion she couldn't identify, Elisa held out her hand. He looked at it questioningly, perhaps waiting for her to sign a new word. Slowly, she drew nearer and hesitantly touched his hand. The creature snatched his hand away immediately, fearing pain, but when nothing happened he cautiously returned, holding out his own hand. Elisa touched him again, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.

He felt oddly warm, for a water creature, his skin softer and less scaly than she thought. The webbing between his fingers was rubbery, the bones long and hard, the scales soft. He seemed as fascinated with her, touching her palm, spreading her fingers questioningly as if looking for her missing webbing. He felt her nails, and then her skin, his puzzled eyes examining the hair on her bare arms. Elisa stroked his own arm, and his colors softened as he blinked and made a soft sound, not unlike a cat's purr.

Time for more words. Hand, she signed. Arm. Fingers. Claws, nails. Immediately he repeated them, working his fingers as best he could, watching her for approval.

Delighted with his quickness, she smiled, patting his arm, and he responded in kind, carefully patting her. The bath time fantasy returned full force, and she inhaled sharply. The amphibian man turned his head curiously and blinked as she intertwined her small fingers with his, clasping them gently.


In the midst of the day's failed attempt at training the creature to carry a magnetic device and attach it to a mock submarine hull, Robert Hoffstetler had not fed the brute on Strickland's orders. "Let him starve," he'd snapped on his way out of the lab, leaving the assistants to unshackle the creature and put it back in the water. Several of the assistants were terrified of the thing, fearing it would awaken abruptly and attack them. Indeed, the beast did have an impressive set of claws, and word had spread quickly about Strickland's bandaged hand. Oddly, it had never bitten anyone except the man who wielded the cattle prod.

Sighing, he turned and walked back towards the lab. No matter what the boss said, if the Asset died or became ill you could bet that they'd all hear about it. He entered the storage room and jerked the refrigerator door open. Four dead fish lay on a tray, their glassy eyes staring at him reproachfully. Suppressing a shudder, Hoffstetler lifted the tray and entered the lab.

And stopped, surprised. Music was playing, the Big Band sounds of the previous decade. His shoulders slumped, relieved and irritated. It was merely one of the cleaning crew, working to music as she swept the lab. He was about to walk forward when the Asset appeared in the upright cylinder, looking directly at the cleaning woman. At that moment, the scientist's world shifted.

The creature lifted one hand, clawed fingers curling in, and struck the glass, rapping on it in a deliberate pattern. To Hoffstetler's utter shock, the cleaning woman leaned her broom against a table and hurried over to the glass, as the creature raised its hands, waving them and moving its fingers in coherent, organized patterns, answered by the woman. She walked over to the now-silent record player and removed the black disk, while the creature watched her intently. She selected two albums and walked back to the glass, tucking the albums under one arm and making signs to the amphibian creature.

The Asset's dull colors shifted suddenly, flooding with color, pinks and yellows, as he excitedly pointed to one of the two albums. The woman smiled and slid that disk out of its sleeve, putting it on the turntable and lowering the needle. Moonglow, by Benny Goodman began playing. She picked up the broom and began to dance with it, using the humble object as a partner, spinning, dipping, feet tapping. In the front of the cylinder the Asset watched, fascinated, then flipped backward, swimming, surfacing, spinning in time with the music.

The song ended and the Asset swam back to the glass, floating, waiting. Slowly the woman moved toward him and lifted one hand, pressing it gently against the surface. In the tank, the creature lifted a hand and put it against hers, on the other side of the glass, his colors shifting into a soft salmon and rose.

Elisa sighed and smiled wistfully, keeping her hand against the cool surface, wishing she could feel his fingers in hers again. Slowly she leaned her forehead against the glass, aching to touch him, to hold and be held in turn by him. The Asset blinked, the warm colors suffusing his body, and leaned his own forehead against the glass, against hers, with the same gentle expression and posture.

Shaken, Hoffstetler stepped backwards, retreating into the shadows of the storage room and set the tray aside, something painful twisting in his chest, moved and stunned at what he had witnessed. As he had begun to expect, the Asset was intelligent, could communicate…and now he had no idea how to proceed.


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Oh, how I wish the movie would come out here! I'll have to wait until the 22nd to see it.
I'm somewhat hesitant to continue with this story, now that the movie has been released, as I have no idea how closely my guesses are to the actual story line. Any opinions?

Hope you've enjoyed this update, and please leave a comment!