Ficlets

We're Back, And Everything Will Come Up Roses This Time Around

“What’s that?” he asked in response to our gestures. “Oh, alright, we can close the blinds. There. That better?”

Oh, much, much better. The panic is going away. The fear replaced by the old self-confidence. Watch it! Don’t want to fall into the old traps of arrogance. Hubris got us almost killed – in a manner of speaking – last time.

Happy for us, then, that DeVries was an idiot. He must have simply left us in the lab after our last confrontation.

We must think.

“Oh, you can talk! Well, alright, it’s 2103 and you’re in a hospital in London.”

Careful! Mustn’t “recover” to quickly. We should have gone through some show of needing a pen to communicate.

But acting human is so tedious and unbearable.

We’ll go through the pretense of responding to treatment, bide our time. We’ll need a new name and story, something that won’t connect to our past if someone begins digging. We’ll need some proper food, too. Perhaps that young nurse who just passed our room…

Our plans will work this time, yes, yes, yes.

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