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NOTES
A mild warning for subtle sexual innuendo.
This chapter came out much better than I expected it to, structurally. Not that you care what I think, right?
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She had the same dream that night.
Or she thought it was the same dream. It started out the same, on a cool day in early summer, when the leaves are a fresh green, and the air is light, and the sunshine is without heat or color. The man still stood, silent, smiling, hidden behind folds of white cloth.
Then there was a change. There was a feeling of excitement on the air, of wait and want, and the man looked up at the nonexistent sun, and his frigid smile melted away and became full of its light. Hot rays reflected from his glasses as the wind brushed raven strands of hair from his face. He opened his arms in a holy and welcoming gesture, like a priest telling of the glory of the Heavens, because he had come home to someone who truly loved him.
Flowers exploded on the edge of her vision, and she felt so unbelievably happy and I hope that I never wake up from this dream.
The clock chimed once.
-----
She opened her eyes and groaned. Ririn was accustomed to sleeping lightly, but tonight she was unprepared, and her eyes felt stuffy and sticky. She rolled through her blankets and onto the floor with a muffled thud.
Groggily, she dragged herself out into the hall, still hugging a pillow to her chest. If I get some food in me, I'll be able to fall asleep again. Her feet slid on the floor as she walked.
The hallway was especially long at one in the morning. Perhaps it was the eerie silence - Ririn had always preferred the noisy sounds of a crowd to the quiet of night. The kitchen seemed a hundred miles away.
The dream, she thought, and paused. There was something about the lack of light that made everything she saw monochrome, and it reminded her of the grey sun she had dreamed of. Or was there a sun at all? I remember feeling so warm... and happy....
Her feet had brought her to a door. She lifted her head to peer at the label - LABORATORY. Absently she had walked there, perhaps out of habit. Ririn was slightly annoyed with herself, and her stomach grumbled in agreement, and there was certainly nothing in the accursed lab that was of any worth to her. Just a lot of things the doctors use to poke and prod her....
She hesitated. She shouldn't go in there. She will get in trouble. She should go back to sleep--
--but she didn't. She opened the door.
Compared to the empty corridor, the lab was filled with noise. The ticks and drips and grinding machinery were familiar to her, and they sounded almost melodic. The entire area was devoid of people.
On the table lay the Seiten Sutra. The scripture of the sacred sky.
It wasn't as if she planned to keep it forever.
You should be a little more tidy, Mister Scientist, Ririn thought, smiling impishly behind her pillow. You might misplace something.
-----
Later that day, she was in the lab again. She sat in her customary spot on the table in the center of the room. There were a number of female scientists puttering around her, attaching electrodes and waving strips of paper from the readout. They buzzed around Ririn like ignored flies. Her body was relaxed, her heartbeat slow, and she kept her voice calm, but she couldn't hide the tiny, gloating smirk that stuck to her lips. The adults ignored her.
Across the room, one arm looped to hold the long-eared doll, stood the glasses-wearing male doctor. He shared Ririn's, knowing smile. She stared at him and said nothing.
The tests ended at some point, she wasn't really paying attention to them, and the scientists dissolved into the walls and the room was empty, except for her and him.
"We've got to take some blood," he said to her.
"Who's we?" she returned.
She watched as he stepped forward and picked up an empty syringe from one of the many drawers that lined the wall. His gloved hands slipped a needle into its sterile plastic home. She looked away.
The doctor chuckled. "Scared?" He was trying to build up the suspense.
"No." It was working. She closed her eyes.
"You're afraid of getting hurt." He took her left arm, gently, and she nearly gasped out loud. Latex fingers wrapped the heavy blood pressure cuff around her bicep.
"Pain doesn't bother me," she said.
"Then open your eyes." The cuff squeezed her arm as he pumped it.
"No," she said again.
"Let me let you in on a little secret." His voice was soft and confidential. He didn't sound the way other adults did. When they speak to her, they tell her what to do and where to be, in slow, small words. Or they don't bother explaining anything at all, they just say she's too young and she wouldn't understand.
He never said that. Everything he said was smooth like cream; he talked to her like she was one of them. Like she was in on the secret of being grown up. "They say, to get what you want, you have to make sacrifices. I've made sacrifices. All adults do." She could feel his smile, though she couldn't see it. "Can you do that?"
Something snapped within her. "I can do that."
"Then open your eyes."
She did, and saw the bunny doll on the desk in front of her, staring back with bright, wide eyes.
"Good girl."
He slipped the needle in. She held her breath.