Day 4

It had been a dreary day so far, for multiple reasons. Then again, it had also been a dreary week, for reasons Moffitt had a hard time explaining. It hadn't gone unnoticed by Anah, and her being concerned was only making Moffitt more upset, which made Anah concerned, and so on and so forth. Not a good cycle. Moffitt wondered if it was partly because of how long and dark that winter had been. Christmas was nice, but the months afterward dragged. Each month, week, and day seemed to move slower and slower than the last.

Moffitt had been feeling like he was taking life day by day since the war ended the previous year. It felt like everything had changed far too sharply for his liking. What didn't help was that the calendar was steadily moving toward the three-year anniversary of his brother's death. He didn't want to think about that. His parents tried talking to him about it, tried getting him to think about the good times with Michael. Moffitt refused. He just wasn't ready yet.

He worried this was his life now.

The clock's ticking seemed far too slow. Moffitt found himself tapping the eraser of his pencil in time with the clock while staring absently at documents just sent to his office. He was trying to read them, but he couldn't focus. He hadn't slept well the previous night because of bad dreams. His body had been begging for more sleep since he forced himself out of bed that morning. The room was comfortably warm, and the sound of the heating unit was oddly relaxing. It didn't take long for Moffitt to doze off.

He wasn't completely asleep, nor was he completely awake, but he heard a faint, high-pitched voice calling out, "Hello!"

Moffitt shook himself awake. The voice sounded like that of a child. In a way, it was a child, but something told him it wasn't human. He turned toward the window facing the rooftops of Cambridge. When he heard the voice again, he was able to tell it was coming from the university's zoology department. We keep snakes here? He stood, then paused. He doubted the researchers there would believe him if he went to their offices and announced he could talk to snakes. Maybe they would lock him up and study him. Maybe he would be laughed out of his job. Maybe he would be committed to a mental hospital. Maybe that's what I need.

Apart from the scarier consequences, Moffitt wasn't sure continuing to use the abilities bestowed on him as part of his role as the snake in Dietrich's prophecy was a good idea. He already felt like he didn't belong anywhere. This would only further solidify his place as a freak. At the same time, he was still curious. It was a part of his nature he doubted he could suppress. Maybe I can investigate without anyone knowing. Moffitt slid his papers in a folder, took his jacket, and made his way downstairs and across the street to the zoology department.

It didn't take him long to find the ophiology subdepartment. There were highly noticeable signs everywhere stating that behind the doors were dangerously venomous snakes. The doors themselves were locked, but Moffitt could look through the glass and see a wide room. The walls were lined with big tanks that opened from the front, and he could see each tank held a snake. All different kinds of snakes. The longer he stared, the more he noticed that the snakes were staring at him as well.

The snakes weren't the only ones staring at Moffitt. A man slightly older than him with neatly combed hair and glasses took notice of him and approached the doors with a displeased look on his face. Moffitt pondered running, but didn't want to look stranger than he already was. He heard the clunks of the doors unlocking, then the older man stepped out, asking, "Can I help you? I don't have anyone scheduled to come in today."

"I… um…" Moffitt paled, and his hands began shaking.

"Are you lost? Who are you?"

"D-Doctor Jack Moffitt, sir. Archives. Archeology department."

The older man raised an eyebrow, his displeasure fading to curiosity. "Are you Nicholas Moffitt's son?"

"Yes."

"Ah. I was helping one of his students about a month ago with a project relating to some medical papyri analyzing snakebite from ancient Egypt." The man held out his hand. "I'm Doctor Oliver Millington. Pleasure making your acquaintance. Now, what can I help you with? You really do look terribly lost."

Moffitt had a lump in his throat, and he felt as though all his thoughts were frozen in time. Tremors shot up and down his body. He was overwhelmed with terror, worried Millington was going to laugh at him. "Um… I… don't know if… i-if my father mentioned this, but I, um… I-I can—" Moffitt swallowed, "—t-talk to… s-snakes. Talk to snakes. Yes."

Millington was quiet, looking like he was thinking.

Oh, blast, I never should've said anything. Moffitt covered his face.

"Are you alright?" Millington asked.

No! He's going to send me to a mental hospital!

"You look like you need to sit down. Come into my office so we can talk properly."

"I-I'm not mad, I swear! I-I have a talking snake at home. She can explain every—"

"Relax and come on back. Everything is alright."

Fortunately for Moffitt, Millington knew how to make a good cup of tea. It took a little while, but Moffitt eventually relaxed. He was halfway through his tea before he said anything. "So, you don't… think I'm mad?"

"Well, you don't exactly look mad," Millington said. "You seem more distressed than anything."

"I know. It's a long story."

"I do enjoy a long story, especially one about snakes."

Moffitt felt a little more comfortable explaining his situation, and started with some of the strange dreams and experiences he had growing up involving snakes, then finding out they were tied to his spirit when he met Anah in the temple in North Africa. He described how he could talk to snakes telepathically, how he could sense their presence, and his immunity to snake venom. All of this was fascinating to Millington, so when Moffitt finished, the older doctor was grinning from ear to ear.

"Do you have any idea how amazing it would be to be able to talk to snakes?" Millington asked.

"I suppose it is," Moffitt murmured.

"I'm serious. I would love to know what they're thinking. All other researchers in my field have tried turning me into a laughingstock because I believe snakes are smarter than previously thought. I'm also seeking to improve their care in captivity, and I want to know what they would like to be happy."

Moffitt was quiet for a moment. Is this a chance for me to use my ability for something truly worthwhile? "I mean… this isn't exactly my field, but… maybe I could help out a little."

"If you could, that would be wonderful. You don't have to do anything right now, though. You still look quite sad."

"It's alright. Actually, I was going to ask if I could meet some of the snakes."

"Of course." Millington stood, taking a large ring of keys from his desk. He led Moffitt back out into the laboratory, and knelt by a massive tank holding a mostly black snake with faint, white bands going down its body. The snake's chin and much of its throat was a pale cream color. It watched Millington attentively, but not as though it felt Millington was a threat.

Moffitt recognized the snake immediately as a king cobra. The London Zoo had a world record-length king cobra before the war. He remembered seeing it on a trip with other Cambridge students, and he remembered its intense gaze. It was clearly an intelligent snake, constantly thinking, evaluating its surroundings. Moffitt remembered it staring into his eyes, and it felt like it was staring into his soul. He could feel a horrid buzzing in his brain—what he now knew was the snake trying to communicate with him—followed by an awful pulsing and nausea, and then… nothing. He remembered nothing, but his father had told him afterward that he had collapsed, twitching and convulsing uncontrollably.

Now, he was looking at Millington's king cobra with no issue. He could "hear" its voice clearly.

"Greetings, friend," the snake said.

"Hello," Moffitt replied.

"Millington seems to like you, and I can talk to you. I never thought this would be possible."

Millington unlocked the sliding door on the front of the tank. "This is George." A sheepish grin crossed his face. "I found him while I was serving in Burma during the war. He was just a tiny little hatchling, and fell into the hatch of a Matilda tank while we were taking a break for tea. Fortunately for him, my commander asked me to remove him, rather than just killing the poor thing. I took him out of the tank, went to release him back into the jungle, but he stayed. After a few days of him following me, I said, 'I need to give you a name,' and someone jokingly suggested, 'Well, if it's a king cobra, why not name him after the King of England?' So, I did. That became a bit of a running theme with the rest of the king cobras here, naming them after figures of royalty."

"You actually name the snakes?" Moffitt asked.

"Of course. It wouldn't be right not to. Yes, some people think it's silly and sappy, but I intend to treat them with respect and dignity." Millington stepped aside to let George slither out of his enclosure on his own terms. "He's still young, with a lot of growing to do. Few more years, and he could reach eighteen feet. Maybe even more."

"That's about three times as long as I am tall," Moffitt said with a grin. He maintained his grin as the snake stretched up to taste his scent, then they gently touched foreheads. The feelings of the snake's connection in his brain were vastly different now, compared to before Anah trained him. Instead of a painful throb, it felt more like a tide gently lapping at the shores of a beach. Calm and peaceful. He was finding that he enjoyed this, then thought back to what prompted him to come to the laboratory in the first place. The little voice. "Millington? I must ask… do you have snake eggs hatching?"

"I have a few clutches in incubation. Why? Oh, and please, call me Oliver."

"Right. S-Sorry. Oliver. Because… I-I came here because I sensed a little voice saying 'hello.' It felt like a baby snake."

Millington's eyes widened, and he dashed off into another room. Moffitt heard an excited shout, then Millington returned with a large plastic container. "You're right!" he said. "The forest cobras are hatching!" He set the container on a table to open it. "Look."

Moffitt stood, with George wrapped around his torso and resting on his shoulder. Inside the container were several open and deflated-looking eggs, along with a few with large cuts in them and tiny heads sticking out. There were a few small snakes lying around the container, with some crawling about.

"Naja melanoleuca. The forest cobra, native to Africa. Lovely little things, aren't they?"

Moffitt watched one of the baby snakes try climbing out of the container, only to fall back inside. "Oh, dear—bit clumsy, though."

"They all start out like that, but they'll grow and become more graceful—well, mostly. Some individuals, and this goes for any species, just stay awkward."

"I was a bit gangly and awkward growing up. I understand completely."

Millington showed Moffitt around the rest of the laboratory, introducing him to the "residents," as he liked to call the snakes living there. Moffitt gradually felt less and less anxious and ashamed of his abilities. When it was far past time for Millington to pack his things and go home, he turned to Moffitt. "It's been a pleasure getting to know you and watching you interact with my charges."

"Thanks," Moffitt said.

"You look a little happier than you did when you turned up at the doors."

"I do… feel better."

"If it helps, you're always welcome here. No one's going to look at you strangely, especially not while I'm in charge. If you need to spend some time by yourself with the animals, you're free to visit." Millington put his jacket on before walking with Moffitt outside and making sure the doors were locked. "I look forward to seeing you again. This was a pleasant surprise."

Moffitt gave Millington a genuine smile. "This was far more pleasant than I was expecting. Thank you for not… thinking I'm insane."

"Not at all. Have a good night."

They parted ways on the steps of the zoology building, and Moffitt stood still for a moment. A light feeling had spread through his chest. He had made a friend, and was glad for it. He just hoped that friendship would last.