The Nature of Change

Antifragility (Andy 09)

EIGHT DAYS LATER

Liu opens the lid of the box once again.

Eight long days of getting used to things.

Liu carries me on his arm - the opposite arm from last day, as that one hangs limply and tiredly, and he's slow with it as he opens the door. Seems fair - if what he's told me is right, six kilograms is not fun to have to lug around on your horizontal arm, supported only by small talons scything into said arm. It still astounds me - only six kilos? A twofold reduction in upright height, no reduction in total length, and a tenfold decrease in mass? I suppose it could be chalked up to brittle bones and a proportionally slimmer frame, but it just doesn't seem right to me.

<Have fun,> Aurora mindlinks cheerily from the main room.

<Heh. I'll try,> I chuckle in reply.

Today's task is, yet again, an obstacle course, much the same as the one from before, but with a few airborne platforms supported by string wrapped around the ceiling tiles. He presents the table by lowering his arm, and I hop off, pondering my approach.

The day after the chess match, he laid out a course much like this.

I was... clumsy that day.

The second day with Liu was a lot easier though, as I slowly developed experience with the course. He'd occasionally change things up that day to keep me off guard. Day three, I felt nimble and agile, no longer thrown off by the awkwardness of wings or the strange dimensions of my new morphology.

It still puzzles me how fast my muscle memory adapted.

And now, Liu's fourth day.

He sits in his chair. "Go on."

I nod, plodding over to the edge of the table, back arched to prevent myself from feeling quadrupedal while keeping my hands on the ground for the cameras. I push off and swoop down to the starting platform, absentmindedly grabbing the orange slice placed there and chomping a bite before turning to sit down and ponder my approach.

With the way he's set this up, I need to be very careful between the hoops - the third one doesn't seem to continue the pattern of the first two. Unless he intends for me to break from there and take to the platform... yeah, that's it. The third hoop is a red herring. Liu's like that, I saw it in the chess game.

I take another bite of the orange slice. Then... eh, fuckit. I chomp down the last remnants of the orange slice in one voracious gulp, stretching my wings and arching my back again. This time, though, it's to bounce, readying my muscles for exertion.

Three bounces, two, one, and I spring forwards.

Monkey bars pass, and I mirror their namesake, swinging like some deranged winged scaly ape through the vines of the Amazon rainforest. Eyes ever watching, hands ever reaching for the next bar, breath cycling in and out hard. The last bar opens onto empty space; I tuck my wings and limbs in and reach out with my tail on a whim, somersaulting midair. Tail brushes hoop. I whip it around, and my momentum swings forwards. I snap my wings open just enough to pass through the hoop, and with a whoosh I'm through the second. Up! I recall, and I push my wings a bit further out as I angle my head upwards; surely enough I pitch upwards, velocity straight for the platform...

Flap. Flap. Flap. The backwinging is far more polished than my first run, and I alight on the platform.

I take a moment to turn around and survey the intended path.

Where's the objecti- No, it's there. I spot one that's a closed-off box from this angle, unlike the other platforms. He wants me to go for that one, but through the other platforms.

So how's he labelled the path?

I scrutinize their surfaces more closely. Oh look, a one. A three, a seven... They're numbered.

I slam my arms and legs outwards, pushing forwards. Swift gliding between platforms with periodic backwings. It's astonishingly easy. The exhilaration of sheer novelty is gone, but I don't have the brainpower to feel the strange mix of feelings I have about that as I focus on landing each platform just right.

At last, Platform Nine is attained, and I scarf down the rest of the orange.

I look down, and Liu has set out a bucket of fruits below me. I look over and smile in small thanks - he threw cranberries in there! - then I swoop down and get to satisfying my metabolism's need for calories to burn.

Back onto his arm, back towards the room of boxes.

My heart sinks in the realization that tomorrow is another day with Rita Volyova. That bitch is entirely different from Liu, entirely evil. She doesn't know, and she doesn't care, all she does is these prodding physical examinations where she ties me down, restrains me, where she's too strong and I can't fight back. It all fuels the burning hatred in my heart and directs it at all these so-called "scientists".

She's marked for death by excavation of her liver, followed by ripping all her limbs off, followed by tearing chunks of her brain out until all she can feel is raw pain.

I hate her like nothing else I've ever hated.

<How was it?> Aurora asks.

The hatred fades, making way for a sudden raising of spirits, a strange sort of warm-fuzziness that I can't quite place. <It was nice. He incorporated flight into the course for once.>

<Cool!>

She's always enthusiastic, despite having Prime Asshole Volyova as her most frequent analyst. How she manages it, I have no idea. But she never talks about Volyova... either Volyova gets better after a while, or something far worse is happening to Aurora, and she's hardened to it.

I don't like either possibility.

I decide then that tonight is the night I set things into motion. Volyova is but one of many things about this whole situation that I can never and will never get used to. I made a promise to myself and my parents to come home, and I am damn well going to honor it - but if I don't make a move now, I'll never make a move and be stuck here forever.

<Tonight,> I tell Aurora.

<So early?> she asks.

<Yeap.> I reply.

She gives a nervous sigh over the mindlink. <Okay.>

<Okay,> I reply.

<Okay?> she reciprocates.

I smile a bit. Something about that word is... I hate the term, but romantic. It's just uncertain enough to be leading into almost anything, inviting the other to try and do something, leaving a door open. She's teaching me that if you repeat it enough, it forges a strange sort of bond for a few moments...

<Okay.> I conclude. <What'd the Prime Asshole give you for lunch?>