As she thought, she did that tune thing with her lips. It was fascinating and he really wanted to learn how to do it like she did, but most of his time was spent sleeping. He was always so exhausted and learning anything was taking it out of him just as rapidly as blinking. He wanted to learn her language though... He wanted to learn how to communicate with her—or at least understand what it was she was telling him to do. So far, in that department at least, she held empathy for him.

"Let's see..." she mumbled. "Something meaningful..."

She took her writing stick and tapped the end against her lower lip, eyes to the ceiling and brows furrowed. She was thinking hard about...well...whatever English-speakers thought about. What did they think about anyway? Death? Blood? Pain? All seemed a reasonable answer—they wouldn't even allow him to learn their language. They were the ones who helped put these rings on him! Nobody ever thought to stop them! They didn't do it to themselves because they knew it hurt! They knew it!

Then again...these rings were all he had...

But now the girl, Sam, was giving him a whole new view of everything—the Outside wasn't what it seemed and definitely wasn't what he had cracked it up to be. But she had helped him... She never touched him aside from bandaging his hands... And what about the other English-speaker? The one who gave him the piece of paper? What about him? He died and there was no doubt about that, but why had he wiped off the searing slime not with the usual rags, but with his own clothes? What could that mean? Were Sam and that man connected somehow? Well...that couldn't be right... If she knew what was going on, she would've turned him in. Right? Was it possible that she really had no connection to the entire facility and its familiars? No. No, she was still an English-speaker.

Yet she was giving him the chance to learn her language, whereas no one else had. He was lucky to have learned Esperanto. Now he had a chance to learn English, too. And...and it was all because of her. Not only English, he reminded himself, but the air thing with her lips—he had a chance to learn that thanks to her. This one—this English-speaker—was not normal. How could she be so different? And that Tucker English-speaker... He seemed pretty wary and still cautious, but he was otherwise just like her. Didn't anyone ever try to stop them from being like this? Didn't they know their place in this world? They were of higher rank than him. They could do whatever they wanted to him...yet they chose to leave him be. Tucker hadn't talked to him too much—probably because he himself wouldn't say anything back—but Sam tried to communicate. She tried to reach out to him. Her words were more than commands—most of the time anyway. She was doing her best to converse. It made him feel something, but he couldn't identify the feeling. Occasionally his lips would curve upward of their own accord. Sometimes he couldn't control it. He passed it off as a new instinct.

But for once this was a good instinct. He actually liked this one. It didn't make him feel the strong urge to flee, struggle, or tense up. His breathing never accelerated. His heartbeat actually stayed steady. This hadn't happened to him before—not until he met Sam and Tucker. Was he merely growing used to them?

That couldn't be it. He was very used to the scientists but he still never had the same feeling. Was it perhaps caused by these two strange English-speakers? Did they possess some kind of higher power to bring out this instinct to curve his lips and feel...differently? He liked it but he was still unsure of whether he wanted it. Experiences at the facility taught him many things about feelings, instincts, and trust. From the slight knowledge he'd heard about it, trust wasn't something present before. Maybe now...this was trust? Could it be that trust, which had never before been felt, had existed in him all along but only now revealed itself? And why strictly to these two people? Just...why? It was the only question on his mind right now and one that couldn't be answered unless—or until—he knew English. Then he could ask them and they could explain everything to him.

"I know!" she suddenly shouted, causing him to jump.

She pointed her writing stick at him. "Daniel was a prophet from biblical times who had four visions of the end of the world. On top of that, the name itself means 'God is my judge'. You're a mysterious stranger who appeared in my room. According to the Old Testament, Daniel was sentenced to death in a lion's den, but the lions never ate him. So you really threw yourself in a lion's den here, but in the end I let you stay. And for some reason...it just feels like someone up there really is looking out for you. I don't know why but...I've always gotten the feeling you didn't come from a very 'pleasant'—to say the least—place. I won't ask what happened to you, don't worry, but I can't help but thinking you have a big role to play in life. Daniel had a big role, having prophesized the Apocalypse. Maybe it's just me, I don't know, but the name seems so fitting for you. What do you think? Daniel okay with you?"

He only stared at her. First of all, she was rambling on and on. Second of all, he still had no clue what she was saying. On top of all this, she was asking him a question—that much could be told by her tone. How could he answer something when he had no way of answering an English-speaker that didn't speak Esperanto? He didn't even know if it was a yes-or-no question... But what if it made her angry if he didn't answer? He had to do something though...

He nodded his head as a random answer.

She just smiled and said, "And thus, a name is born. Sorry if I went overboard with the whole definition and history and stuff... I guess I was just tired of not being able to call you anything. I'll tell Tucker once I'm done with my homework, and then it'll be an official temporary name.

And on another note, you need a bath—you're starting to stink up my whole room. Tucker should be here any minute now, so I'll have him help you." She blushed in that instant. "Well, I mean, because of the rings! It has to be hard bathing with no hands."

He merely turned around—a risk he was taking, actually—and settled back down in his little corner. It had become snug and cozy over time, which helped him become accustomed to the room itself. His body was once again trying to wind down for another few hours. Hopefully this would pass. Then again he was left alone for hours, all day long, every single day except the routine two days she spent with him. Tucker was oftentimes over on those two days as well as several nights on the other days. Sleeping was the easiest and best way to pass the time. Loneliness was a feeling he had gotten used to, but now that he'd had a taste of actual interaction—beyond the scope of torture—it was becoming a little more prominent in him. He didn't like it. Where did they go anyway? And...why couldn't he come with them? Maybe it was for the better that he didn't. Here in this room was where he belonged—at least for now. It was dull sometimes but sleeping really did help time fly by and before he knew it Sam was back, and sometimes Tucker came right in with her. Why didn't he feel the same way about them as he did the other English-speakers? They were different...but...

"You know, you can have the bed tonight. I'm tired of seeing you always sleeping like a hedgehog, all curled up like that. It looks pretty uncomfortable," Sam said.

He sighed, which led to a yawn, which led to heavy eyelids. She'd mentioned something about Tucker not too long ago. At least he thought she did—she could've been talking about something else. Not that he would know anyway...

He yawned again and closed his eyes just in time to hear the door open. And yes, there was Tucker. Sam might've been trying to tell him Tucker was coming. Once more, it was kind of nice to know that she was trying to communicate. Anyone else would've simply shut up and given up. Somehow the girl still had faith in him.

"Hey, Sam," Tucker said.

"Hey," she replied. "So listen, you need to give Daniel a bath."

Tucker perked one eyebrow and scanned him.

"Daniel?"

She shrugged. "I decided that we needed a temporary name until we know what his real name is. I suggested the name and he said it was okay."

"Wait, so he can talk?"

Sam bit her lip and looked at newly dubbed "Daniel" who had no clue of his name.

"Well, no, but he nodded his head when I asked him if it was a good name," she answered.

"Oh. When you said that I thought— WAIT, WHAT?! You want me to give him a bath?!" Tucker screeched.

The girl shrugged. "Look, he can't bathe himself with those rings on and I'm sure as heck not giving him one."

"Sam, you can't be serious..." he muttered.

"Stop being a wimp and just do it. Sooner you get in there, sooner you can be done with it," she said.

"You have no idea how much you owe me for this," Tucker said as he made a gesture with his hand.

If there was one thing he recognized, it was this hand signal that told him he was supposed to follow Tucker. There were no words to describe how relieved he was to finally be able to understand something. Then again that could also be the fatigue talking.

He got up and let Tucker lead him into another smaller room with various objects in it. He recognized a toilet and a fancy sink but that was it.

He froze when he heard the unmistakable sound of water pounding down on a floor. He only ever heard a bunch of water droplets coming from this room when the door was closed—Sam was always in here when he heard that sound. But now... He didn't even know she had a deponejo de akvo! What was next? Ectoplasm? If he was in for a dip in a tank of ectoplasm, then Tucker would poke holes in him and the ectoplasm would enter his body through there—through each and every hole.

He wanted to turn back and flee but remembered that Sam was still out there. All she needed to do was push him back in. On top of that, if he disobeyed now, he would be subject to English-speaker punishment. He did not want to suffer an English-speaker's wrath...

But he also didn't want to die.

Slowly, he stepped over the rim. It was kind of weird that there was no possible way this thing could fill up as much as all the others did. Maybe they were just doing a test run of the special water? That would make sense but what about the lack of holes? Maybe they were testing for skin absorbency or something.

Tucker pulled him right back out and said, "Just a little reminder—you need to get your clothes off first."

He only stood there, tensing as Tucker proceeded to take off his clothes. He stopped when the rings wouldn't allow him to finish—they were too big to slip through his sleeves and pants.

"Sam!" he called out. "We have a problem!"

"What is it?" came her muffled voice.

"His clothes won't fit over the rings!"

"Well what do you want me to do about it?"

"Blindfold yourself and help me!"

"Factor in my gender."

"That's why I said blindfold yourself!"

"Look, I'm not going in there unless he's fully clothed."

"Sam, please! These rings go through his skin and it's freaking me out!"

"Think of it as a charitable act."

"I can't get him undressed!"

"That's your problem."

He sighed and looked down at Tucker, who was still gently trying to pull his sleeves over the rings. He realized the dilemma and assumed this was what they were arguing about. If this deponejo de akvo was so tiny with a wide and easy escape route, it could only be a test run and hopefully nothing serious.

He figured it was best to simply go along with Tucker and Sam—who for some reason refused to help solve this problem—and pulled his arms away from Tucker. He bit down on his sleeves and stretched them to the point where a) they ripped a little; and b) were now wide enough to slide over the rings with ease.

"I guess that's one way to do it," Tucker said, pulling the shirt off.

He then sat down on the edge of the deponejo de akvo and lifted his feet up. Now that he had shown Tucker a way to get his clothes off completely—it wasn't very hard since the scientists at the facility did the same thing when they needed to undress him—Tucker could stretch and rip the pants himself.

After getting his pants off, now came the water. Unlike what he was used to, this water was warm. Ectoplasm burned even his skin—although it was ten times worse when it seeped into him—but this didn't look like it had ectoplasm in it. Ectoplasm was always green and thick. This water wasn't like that at all. It was very thin and didn't actually burn so much as heat him up a little. It was both uncomfortable and soothing.

Until, that is, he slipped and fell straight into the water. The soothing part of this suddenly vanished and he was quick to swing a leg over in an attempt to get out. He failed when Tucker pushed his leg back in and tried to hold him still—luckily with his head still above the water.

He made several more attempts to escape, not thinking much about the consequences anymore. It was the first time he'd ever slipped—the rest of the deponejo de akvoj had traction on their floors. This one had no traction whatsoever and it was made harder to stand since he had to stand on the sides of his feet.

"Okay, okay!" Tucker shouted as he stopped one more try. "How about a shower?"

Tucker bent down to pull something out from the bottom. The water began to go down steadily, during which time he stayed perfectly still. After a minute or two, it was gone and Tucker did something that made the water come out from the top of the deponejo de akvo. Normally it would've been even more unnerving, but this pitter-patter sound was the same sound he heard when Sam came in here when the suno was just beginning to show itself. She did this every single day, or so he assumed. If an English-speaker did this to themselves, then it couldn't hurt.

He turned to face the direction of the spray and sat down, his face coming in direct contact with all that water. It didn't hurt but it was annoying.

He sat still and let Tucker squirt some kind of white, creamy substance on his hands and rub it into his hair. He noticed that as he kept rubbing it in, tiny bubbles all clumped together were starting to form, until they made white, soft foam. It fascinated him to no end. He had no idea that English-speakers could invent such amazing things, as opposed to the painful things he was used to. They didn't just create machines and mechanisms; they also created water sprayers and this stuff that transformed from thick cream to gentle foam. The Outside just became a lot more interesting.

Tucker pushed his head under the water spray and he closed his eyes, spitting out water and the foam that got in his mouth—the stuff tasted horrible. Tucker ran his hands through his hair to help get the rest of the foam out before pulling him back.

"Okay, hold your arm out," Tucker said.

He spat out some water that trickled onto his lip.

"Mi ne scias, kio vi diras..." he mouthed.

After all this time of having the inability to communicate, even silently mouthing something was a relief. Unfortunately, it didn't go unnoticed by Tucker.

"Were you trying to talk just now?" he asked.

Considering the question was in English, he could only assume that he was asking him something about speaking. English-speakers tended to react negatively during times like this—by pretending he was talking, even if it was in Esperanto, there was little difference in their eyes. To them it was still speaking and to them it was defiance. Defiance had never been allowed amongst the facility. They thought that if he made just the slightest peep, it would somehow act as a setback for their entire operation. He doubted his voice was even there anymore, being as it had been many, many years since he last spoke. His throat most likely didn't work anymore, and therefore he had become mute. Now the chances of him being able to talk were slim to none. Maybe that was the underlying reason he was so desperate to learn how to do that thing with his lips, like Sam did with hers. Practice seemed frequent enough but he didn't have anyone to help him. He was smart enough to learn the entire Esperanto language without anyone even trying to give him the chance, so he figured he was smart enough to figure it out on his own. It was hard though, he could admit that much.

He looked down and tried to focus on the water flowing down the hole at the other end of the deponejo de akvo. Normally holes like that were meant to secrete ectoplasm...but this one drained the water away... Well...just...why? What was the purpose of this foamy stuff and the water and the no-ectoplasm policy?

Tucker took his arm and started scrubbing it with a cloth. The cloth was soft and just like with his hair, spread foam on his skin. It didn't hurt though...

"You're filthy. What happened to you? You look like you came out of a fire—singes here, burns there, and...weird flakes of stuff coming off your skin... What is that?" Tucker mumbled.

Tucker smoothed one of his lathered hands over his shoulder blade, where a branding was. Not that he knew what it meant, but it looked like a word, kind of like the ones Sam was working on earlier.

"Hey, Sam?!" Tucker shouted.

"What?" came her once more muffled reply.

"I have something you need to see here!"

"I swear, Tucker, if you're asking me to come in there again, I'll—"

"No, it's about Daniel!"

"I don't care, I'm still not coming in there."

"I wasn't asking you to! You just need to see— Oh forget it, I'll just show you when we're done in here..."

As Tucker continued scrubbing him with the foam-making cloth, he kept staring at the mark as though it was some kind of horrific sight to behold. He'd had it since...well...he wasn't really sure. It was placed on him too far back and he couldn't quite remember the moment. For all he knew, he'd had it all his life. It was now a part of him—what was so bad about it, he would never know.

It didn't take much longer to finish up. He was finally allowed out of the strange deponejo de akvo, a much larger cloth was thrown over him, and Tucker was again responsible for his clothes. The sleeves and pants had to be stretched and partially ripped—again—before they could fit over the rings, but in the end everything worked out well and he was guided out of the room and into the big room where Sam sat, still focused on those mean little characters.

Upon seeing him, she ran a hand through her hair and asked Tucker, "What is it you wanted to show me?"

Putting his shirt on seemed pointless now, because Tucker took it right back off and turned him so his back was facing Sam.

"This," Tucker answered, grazing his hand over the mark on his shoulder blade.

Sam leaned forward to inspect it just as Tucker had. Apparently English-speakers touched things to understand them. This was the second person already to touch the mark and feel it. The only movement he made was twitching his shoulder to show them he could feel what they were doing—well that, and he looked over his shoulder to see everything with his own eyes.

"E-428, PROJEKTO NIVELO UP," she read aloud. "What in the world does that mean?"

"I don't know. See, this is why I wanted to show you," Tucker said. "He's been branded."

"Well, we need to figure out what this means... It looks like this was written in code or something. That means no one is supposed to understand it except certain people. Those are the people who must've branded him. Why would they do something like this though?"

"Actually, Sam, I think it's only the first part that's in code. The rest of it looks like actual words, like it's a whole different language..."

"Yeah, maybe. What is it, Spanish? Portuguese?" she mumbled.

Tucker shrugged and said, "Try looking it up on your laptop—maybe we can find something."

She opened a drawer and pulled out a flat, silver rectangle. He jumped when the top suddenly flew open from a hinge at the back. The top part flickered to life when she tapped a corner on the bottom part. He was familiar with the sound of buzzing and the pictures on the top part—there was a lot of that back in the facility.

He turned around to have a better look, only to be turned back around by Tucker.

"Okay, so..." Sam began tapping the characters on the bottom part. "Projekto Nivelo Up... There aren't very man— Wait. There are three sites here saying something about Esperanto. They're all in a different language though so I'm not really sure..."

"Try looking up 'Esperanto', see what that is," Tucker murmured as he leaned over, head to head with Sam and just as eager to see the top part.

More tapping. "Okay. It says here that Esperanto is a rare language invented in the 1800s as a secret code for war. Now it's pretty much unheard of."

"So then that branding on Daniel's shoulder is meant to stay secret. I mean, why else would it be written in an almost dead language?" Tucker said. "Can you find an online translator?"

Sam whispered something too quietly for him to hear but seemed to find what she was looking for.

"Found one," she said. "Now I just type in the words on Daniel's shoulder and...voila."

"Project Level Up," Tucker read. "What's Project Level Up?"

Sam sat back in her chair and sighed. "No clue. And I just thought of it this second but...every single time I talk to Daniel, he's got this blank look on his face, like he doesn't get what I'm saying. You think maybe he's not actually mute?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it could be more of a matter of he doesn't know how to answer us than he can't. He might not be mute at all; he might just not be able to understand us. If that's the case then it makes sense that he's always got that look."

"So you're thinking he might not speak English?"

"My best guess is that he actually speaks Esperanto, but if he really is mute— You know, never mind. It's worth a shot. What should I type in?" she asked.

After very little thought, Tucker answered, "Why not just ask him up front if he knows English? If he answers that question, then he speaks Esperanto."

Tap tap tap. Tap. Tap. Tap tap. Tap.

Sam turned to him and he turned to face her, realizing she would try again to communicate.

"Ĉu vi parolas Angle?" she asked.

His eyes grew wide and he shook his head. An English-speaker spoke in Esperanto... More so, she asked him a question in Esperanto—he could answer her for once. He could finally communicate with her. It might not seem such a big deal to other English-speakers, but to him it was a huge accomplishment, like a milestone had been reached after all this time.

"And that answers that question," Tucker said. "He couldn't understand us this whole time."

Tap tap. Tap tap. Tap. Tap tap tap tap.

"Ĉu vi parolas nur Esperanton?" she asked.

He nodded, this time with his lips curving upward again.

"What did you ask him?" Tucker asked.

"I asked him if he spoke Esperanto. I'll ask him what that mark on his shoulder means," she replied.

A dozen more taps.

"Kion tio markon sur via ŝultro signifi?" she continued.

That was probably the one thing he would never know. Right then, it struck him that she was trying to get him to talk—she was encouraging it. English-speakers never toyed with him. They always had a motive, meaning this was no trick. The only problem was...he couldn't talk even if he wanted to.

A/N

Well, guys, does this make up for last chapter? This is almost 4,600 words! That's incredibly hard to do when your main character can't talk. I'm really hoping you guys will like this chapter because not only does it serve an important role later in the story, but I worked hard on it...

Tell me what you think! (Please? I'm desperate here...) I really want to know if this was an okay-ish (I know it's not qualified to be "good") chapter, or if this chapter completely sucked. I can use that information for future improvement.