847 Continued
Experiment 847 spent his days resting at the two-legs residence. Humans, they called themselves. He'd learned a good deal of their language just by observing them there, huddled in nest of blankets. He only meant to stay until his injury healed enough for him to leave, but when the time came he decided it couldn't hurt to stay a few more days. But then days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months.
The air was getting colder, the sun set earlier, and the world turned golden red.
It was beautiful.
He'd never had so much time to simply watch a world change seasons before. Sometimes he flew outside and observed the world from above. He liked watching the warm new hues of the trees overtake the verdant green they'd been previously. It was like watching a slow spreading fire. Except this fire wouldn't hurt anybody.
He had checked that morning to see if the last stubborn patch of green had disappeared, but it still hung on. Perhaps in a few days he'd be able to see hints of yellow in its leaves.
He flew back to the human's house, swooping in through the window the human always left open for him.
Every time he left he considered leaving for good, yet every time he returned. There was something in the human's expression when he caught sight of 847 that made him want to stay. Besides, there was no reason for him to leave. He liked it there.
He liked the warmth of the blankets, the seeds and crumbs the human fed him, and the peacefulness. Most of all he liked the human.
He was an older fellow, more gray in his hair than color. He was full of life and laughter though, warmth seeped from his smiles. And he liked to talk about anything and everything. That was how he learned most of their language.
He talked about how the changing of seasons was possible, about the humans living in the next house over, about his favorite foods, about aching bones. He talked about his family sometimes. This was 847's favorite topic to hear about. Family was a concept unheard of for kaiju. Sure, he had brothers and sisters, but it wasn't the kind of family the human talked about. Family was more than sharing the same DNA. Family was caring.
The Kaiju didn't care for each other, and the Precursors certainly didn't either.
Humans seemed to care about everything.
This particular human had cared for him, despite the fact that he was weak and useless. In fact, it seemed to endear him more to the man.
Perhaps that was why the human prattled on day after day. Maybe he could sense 847's loneliness and chose to fill it with words to distract him.
"Oh, there you are. I was wondering if today would be the day you finally got tired of me," a soft voice broke through his thoughts. He padded over to him across the counter to peck him affectionately on the shoulder. He laughed weakly and stroked his feathers.
Now, 847 didn't know that much about humans, but something seemed off about his caretaker. His smile wasn't as bright as usual, and his eyes glistened in the light. He pushed his head against the other's hand and cooed softly.
The human gave a watery laugh. "You can tell something's wrong can't you? You're a smart bird- smarter than those pigeons anyway." He sighed, gaze drifting off to the shoreline. 847 nudged him with his head again to get his attention.
"Oh sorry, old boy. Bit distracted today. It's just- well I don't know say," he sighed. "It's a bit of a long story actually. But I suppose you have time, don't you? And I don't think I have the heart to talk to anyone else about it." He slumped in his chair, resting his head on his forearms.
"It happened a couple years ago-one of those dreadful kaiju attacks. They seem to be happening more frequently. My son Fred- you remember him right? I'm pretty sure I've talked about him before... Anyway, he was in Manila at the time with some friends. He was there for charity work," he laughed bitterly.
"But I guess God didn't care about that. Or the universe or whatever. The kaiju sure didn't. Those things just wreak havoc where they can. It was tearing the city apart, knocking down buildings and throwing things around. Well, my boy, he and his friends were trying to get to the airport. But they got a flat tire. Not that surprising what with everything going on, I suppose.
"Those poor boys. My son was one of the ones out of the car trying to fix it.
"But that kaiju was causing all sorts of chaos. And in the commotion it tore up a tree. And it threw it five miles away. Five whole miles!
"But this tree came crashing down out of the sky, and on its rebound it hit my son and his friend. They both got knocked out by the hit, but I guess my boy was hit more directly than the other one. His friend woke up a few hours later, scraped up badly, but aside from some scars nothing permanent. My boy...." he trailed off, and 847 wondered if he'd ever continue.
The seconds passed by, counted by the clock on the wall. Tick, tock, tick, tock; the only sound filling the silence.
Until at last he spoke again, "He's in a coma now. He never woke up from that hit. We've been waiting-my wife and I- but nothing's changed. Two whole years have passed, and he's made no sign of recovery. He's basically brain dead. The doctors told us so as soon as he was admitted. Said it was unlikely he'd ever get better. But what kind of parent would believe that?" The laugh that followed was slightly hysterical and made him slightly uneasy, but 847 stayed where he was.
"Well, we've waited and waited. We've tried everything in the book. We've gone to visit him every week, read at his bedside, told him about what's going on in the world, kept him updated on his friends and interests. And we've got nothing in return. Nothing to show for our faith.
"But I suppose that's how faith works, isn't it? You believe in something with no evidence, and you hope for the best. Sometimes you're rewarded, and sometimes you're not. That's life I guess.
"It's his birthday next week. He's turning 22. It's his golden birthday. It was supposed to be a big deal, back when he was awake.
"My wife's been crying non-stop all week. It's hard on her, sweet soul that she is. You've met her a few times, she likes to stop by and get some fresh sea air. I think it's hard on her to be near it too long though. Too painful of a reminder of our son. He loved the ocean."
He propped his head on one hand and reached out to pet him.
"The doctors say we should let him go. Well, perhaps not in those words exactly, but that was the gist of it. They say we have to accept our lots in life, and I know they're right. I just don't want to. How can I give up my only child?" he croaked, tears leaking from his eyes.
"My wife and I, we're not young anymore. I don't think it'd be very nice of us to have another kid. Could you imagine? The poor child would have parents as old as their classmates' grandparents. That's not very fair. We'd probably be in our graves before they turned 40.
"The point is moot anyway. I wouldn't want to give up Fred even if we had a dozen more children already," he sighed.
"It's hard times we live in. I know we're not the only parents outliving our own children. Maybe one day, we'll have peace again," he finished, looking mournfully at the clouds rolling in over the ocean. 847 nestled down beside him, and tried to ignore the twisting inside his gut. He rested his head against the human's arm, closing his eyes and mourning the human he'd never meet.
A week passed before the human returned. His eyes were rimmed red and swollen.
"We did it. We pulled the plug. My boy is gone," he sobbed, cradling the bird against his chest.
"We figured it was time. Seemed only right that we'd set him free on his birthday. He won't be tethered to this earth anymore." 847 looked up at him and blinked. He didn't entirely understand what the human was saying about tethers and plugs, but it wasn't important. He wished he could help appease the man's pain, but he had no idea how to help.
He set the bird to perch on the coffee table while he slumped dejectedly into an armchair.
"I know that this was the right thing to do. I know it. But still I feel as though I can't forgive myself for letting this happen. For letting him go this way. There's so many things I wanted to tell him.
"I wish I could look him in the eyes and tell him how much I love him. To tell him how proud I was. That I'd pay whatever price just to have him back.
"What I wouldn't give just to be able to hold my son one last time," he whispered, picking a picture off the table and staring sorrowfully at it.
847 felt such pain for this man. Compassion and empathy were still relatively new feelings for him, but he'd never felt so strongly about anything before. Except perhaps, that fateful day he'd first crossed over to this world.
A memory of eyes meeting his as he opened his jaws flashed across his mind.
He'd caused so much pain. Wasn't it time for him to return some kindness to this world?
His human wanted to see his son again.
He wasn't his son, but he could change himself to look like him, couldn't he? He peered around the room at the pictures framed along the walls and fireplace.
He could do it.
He should, shouldn't he?
It was only fair to repay his generosity.
But humans didn't change shape. Nothing on this planet did. Not like he did anyway.
Would he cast him away?
Or would he be grateful?
What should he do?
What purpose did he have without the human anyway?
He should just do it.
He wouldn't know until he tried.
He had to help somehow.
He had to repay him.
847 took a deep breath and focused on one of the pictures beside him.
He mentally thanked the human for everything he'd done.
And then he changed his form.
A picture frame crashed against the floor.