"Godlike: Consequence" by Amanda Rosberg Olsson

Godlike: Consequence

They ask me what’s wrong. Every day the same question, but what should I say? I don't know what’s wrong with me, or even if there’s something wrong with me at all. So I don’t say anything. That makes them puzzled, worried, angry.

It’s strange, all of it. I don’t know why I’m here; I’ve never seen a place like this before. It’s clean and there are curtains at the windows. They’re green. I like green.

They give me food without me doing anything for it. They just ask me questions, and touch my body. “Does it hurt here? Does it hurt here? How about here?” Some times I nod and sometimes I shake my head. More and more the latter.

I’d say they’re friendly but then they look at me with those eyes, as if they’re trying to see the colour of my soul. It scares me.

They look different from me. I feel… small among them. My ears are pointy, theirs aren’t. My skin is like the sun; kind of golden. Theirs are either paler or browner, but none looks like mine.

I don’t know what they want, why do they ask me things that I don’t understand?

I sit on the couch I usually sit on. It’s blue and soft, but hard at the same time. That’s also new to me. There is not much in my room. I say it’s mine because they say it’s mine. Does that mean that the things are mine too? Besides the couch, there’s a table and four chairs, they’re wooden. I’ve spent many hours, many days looking at them. There are patterns on their legs and up on their backs: flowers trees, animals, water and people. I don't understand, I have not seen such thing to be that way. Trees stand alone, not together, and there are many creatures that I don’t recognize from anywhere. Strange. But the chairs aren’t all wood. They too are blue and feel the same way the couch does when I sit on them.

Sometimes they want me to sit there and they put pictures in front of me and they ask me what they are and how I feel when I look of them. Most of the time I don't feel anything but confused. But some of them make me smile, like a pretty bird or flower, or the gathering of raindrops, millions of them together. And there is a picture of a male that makes me feel both safe and nervous. They let me keep most of the pretty pictures, but not the one of him. And there are pictures that make me feel fear. Pictures of darkness and suffering and evil-looking people. I now look away every time I see one of those. I don't understand why they would want to scare me but they keep doing it, although not so often.

I also have a bed. That's where I sleep. It's all white and very soft, just soft and not hard at all. When I sleep in it I make it all wrinkly but every day when I’ve gone on my walk in the outside, my bed is all smooth again. Strange.

On the opposite wall from me there is a shelf, to high up for me to reach it. On the shelf there are two green plants, one with dark leaves the size of my hand and one with small light green leaves that are streaked with dark blue. They’re pretty I think and smells nice. They make me feel nice too.

The walls themselves are white, when I touch them they are cold and solid, they must be stone but I haven’t seen stone like that before. The floor is also white stone, but there are carpets, green carpets, the same light green of the curtains, so that my feet won’t get cold when I walk. When I go outside they give me brown sandals to wear on my feet. The leather is soft. It's nice to be outside, the wind blows more than it does through my window. And I can see the sky very clearly. There are more flowers and bushes outside and a tree in the centre of the path. Otherwise it looks like inside. There are white stone walls with windows, but to the inside I, all around and I walk on white stone too. But the outside smells nice and is very pretty. It’s nice that I get to see it every morning after I’ve eaten.

The food they give me tastes well. Over all I don’t mind the way they treat me even though they scare me and does uncomfortable things to me from time to time.

But they seem to get more and more irritated with me every time I don't answer their questions, at least some of them. The female with brown skin. The male with long hair. Others simply seem to care less and less. The female with brown skins and red hair hardly come anymore. Most haven’t changed a bit.

One of them, the female with the blonde hair, asked me what my name is. I didn't understand and I wrinkled my forehead. “Our names is what we are.” She said first but then seemed to change her mind. “No, it’s more like a reflection of what we are. What we came from and what we have become.” That didn’t make it any more clear to me, but I said nothing. The female with the blonde hair touched her own chest and said; “My name is Laura.” Aha, names are words, I thought. But I don't have any words to say, so then how can I reflect who I am? The only words I have are these and no one hears them but me.

If I didn’t have a name then where did I come from? Nowhere? If I didn’t come from anywhere, then is there really a me? Everything has to come from somewhere. Did I? Who am I? I’m becoming more and more confused and I don’t think I like it. But things are happening now, more to think about.

The female whose name is Laura told me today that there is no progress (progress in what I wonder) and that they are going to let me see the man who saved me. I didn’t understand. Saved me? From what? I don't even remember seeing him. She told me that he was the friendly looking man on the picture. I don’t know him from anywhere else.

The dress I found on the chair this morning is different from the ones I usually get. It is also white, with thin shoulder straps and in the same kind of rough-but-soft material. But on this one, the hem goes all the way down to my ankles instead of my knees. Strange. I hear a knock on my door and then the blonde female whose name is Laura comes in. She says good morning, smiles and then steps into the room. Behind her is the young male, he smiles a little. He is the most beautiful male I’ve seen. They have told me that his name is Ruce.

The female whose name is Laura said that we could take a walk outside, but she led us to a different outside. It’s bigger than where I usually walk. There's more trees and bushes and flowers, but I could still see the white stone walls around me. When I looked up, there was a few clouds in the sky. I wondered what they would be like to touch, if they were only soft or hard as well.

The female whose name is Laura left us alone outside and we began to walk around the white stone path, The male whose name is Ruce didn’t say anything at first, but I saw him licking his lips and opening and closing his hands. He is feeling something, I thought and wondered what it was and if it was I who made him feel things, like the way he made me. Perhaps he did too not have any words to say, but then again, he did have a name; Ruce.

After a few minutes we sat down on a bench and he sighed and clasped his hands in his lap, beginning to roll his thumbs, but then stopped. He was nervous I decided, should I be too? But I felt calm and sort of warm inside. At least until he spoke.

“They tell me that you’ve gotten better.” The words themselves were… ordinary. But his voice stirred many different feelings inside me. It was deep and smooth with a lightness to it, like fluttering butterfly wings. “but you don’t talk? Rurik says that he heard you say something.” He was saying all those things but they are not what I heard. I heard voices, one of them his, screaming at me. I didn’t hear what they said but I knew that they were calling me bad things. Then I heard a soothing voice, his voice, whispering in my ear, telling me that everything is alright, that he will protect me. And the voices started to mix until all I heard was a loud noise. I put my hands over my ears, trying to block them out, but I could still hear them. I opened my mouth as to scream, but I heard it only in my head and not my ears.

My eyes opened and I could see my skin was shining bright like the sun above. It scared me and I didn't know what I should do. The voices grew louder.

And then I felt him hold me. I was on his lap; he had one hand around my waist and the other on my head, stroking my hair. He was rocking slightly back and forth and when he really said: “Don’t be afraid, I’m here, I’ll protect you” I believed him and all the other voices faded out to nothing.

I looked up after a while and saw his eyes looking back at me. They where kind. Brown, dark round the edges with lighter streaking out from the centre. Beautiful, but most of all kind. He leaned forward and pressed his lips softly to my cheek, kissing away tears I hadn’t realised had fallen.