"Tell me more about your job. Before," the screen read. A man sighed and typed back a response. "No. When am I getting out?" "Soon. Tell me. Learn me more and I will help you leave." "Teach. It's teach. Teach me more. Do you not know English? Am I being kept in another country? Couldn't you bother to get someone who knows English to interrogate your prisoners?" He started tapping on the desk his decrepit computer sat on. "You are home. Relax. Take deep breaths. Tell me about your job." "Do you really want to know what a data entry man does? It's this. I'm entering data that I'll never see again. For someone I don't know. For a cause I don't care for. I want to sleep." No response. "Let me out." "Did you do it on a machine like this one?" He started hammering on the keys. "A computer? Yes. What else would I do it on? Let me out." "Soon. What was the abode like where you did this work?" "It was a tower with a lot of windows, and a hundred other people doing mindless tasks I don't know about." "Any more details?" "What? More details? It's an office building, like a billion other grey, soulless office buildings. Show it in a photo and I couldn't even tell you if it's the right one." No response. "Let me out." No response. "LET ME OUT!!!!!" No response. He began mashing the keys, sending a stream of gibberish into the machine. The program closed out, almost as if annoyed, leaving him back on a generic operating system. He placed his face in his palms and his breathing became heavy. Another day of this. Endless nothing. He shoved his chair back away from the desk and stood up. It was pointless. He was never leaving. The man marched over to his bed and started pounding away at the mattress. This was hell. He was dead and this was hell. Over and over he mashed his fists into the fabric, feeling the springs push back. That resistance made it feel like he was beating on something living. Something that could feel his pain. _ He stared at the ceiling. That one unblinking light that beamed down on him. It was almost time for lights out. He had no control over that of course, but he didn't know who did. Probably not the idiot on the computer. It might as well have been his new sun. Treating it as a natural feature calmed him somewhat. It freed his mind from worrying about his captors. His eyes glazed over and he slowly looked about the room. On the other side of the room sat his computer. It might as well be his. It wasn't a familiar kind. It was one of those old towers with an ancient CRT monitor. Next to it was a small slot in the wall that dispensed food, seemingly whenever his stomach stirred. On an adjacent wall was the door to the bathroom. Always open. That was his abode. Nothing else. Only the grey walls and pinhole air vents. Nothing but him. No way in or out. He shut his eyes and placed a pillow over his head, blocking out that incessant light. He could hear it sometimes. It buzzed quietly. Not always. Only sometimes. Only when he was trying to think. Only when he was trying to sleep. Burrowing into his brain and never leaving. Ding. "No," he mumbled. Again, the computer dinged. "No." Ding. It never took no for answer. He knew it. Sometimes he dreamt of smashing the thing to bits, but then where would that leave him? Alone. Ding. He stepped out of bed and threw his pillow against the wall, watching it fall to the ground. He sighed and sat down in defeat. Ding. The man clicked on the screen's pop up, bringing him right back to that dreaded chat room. "Hello," the text greeted, as always. "What do you want?" "To learn more about you. Teach me." "Hey, you figured out how to use that word. Good work!" "Thank you." Sarcasm was hard in text. "What useless facts do you need now?" "Your name. You never typed your name." "I figure you kidnapped me, you should know it. Right? Understand my logic here?" "We did not kidnap you." "Oh, so it's a 'we' now. Team effort, I see. Have to get someone to prepare all my food, I guess." "I do not know your name." "Why do you never talk about the shitty room I'm in? How about the food? You guys do know the things you write on the tin is gibberish, right? It's nonsense. It's clearly not English." "I do not know your name." "Maybe we can talk about the thumping at night? Oh, excuse me, not night. I don't know what night is. We've got no windows here. Silly me. Just whenever that stupid light goes out." "I do not know your name." "You know, I realized there aren't any cameras here. Fair enough. Good for me. I keep my privacy when I'm jerking off. Can't do it on the bed, of course, can't clean it off with anything." "Friend. I do not know your name." "And about cleaning. I could use a washing machine. I don't know where you put my old clothes, but these? Starting to wear a little. I'd go nude but I don't have sheets. It's cold. Do you know that word? Cold? It's cold. I don't think you know that, because if you did, you would know what warmth is. Someone who KNOWS warmth wouldn't stick me in this FUCKING HOLE for WHO KNOWS HOW LONG." "Relax. Deep breaths." There it was. Those words. Somehow he always felt compelled to follow, and so, he didn't. That little bit of rebellion was all he had. "Any other stupid shit you need to know? Maybe what sign I was born under? How about my favorite brand of soda? Whether I prefer pepperoni or cheese?" "Do you know this animal?" Never could he get his hooks into them. Piss them off. Back to business. A small picture of a dog appeared in the box. "It's a dog. Everyone has seen a dog." "What about this animal?" The image was replaced with a tiger. "A big cat. Tiger. Always wanted one as a kid. Never got one." "What about this animal?" Another image came on screen, a crab. Those spooky spider ones. "A crab, probably. Who knows with crustaceans." "Good. Thank you. Please enjoy the rest of your time." The box closed out, kicking him back to the desktop. The little slot nearby spat out a tin of food. The special kind that had a hint of sweetness to it. The man swore under his breath and decided to click around the computer again. He was vaguely familiar with it. Windows XP, something he had only ever heard about in passing, but it had to at least be fifty years old by now. It came with a sleuth of random programs and files. Most of them in English, some not. Not all of them worked either. Some videogames, some videos, and a scant amount of music. Nothing seemed out of place, despite all the digging he had done. That didn't stop him from looking, however. During his dive through the computer, the lights suddenly dimmed, bathing the room in an uncomfortable darkness. Annoyed, he turned off the computer and slunk back to his bed. He settled into the mattress and its warped springs, suddenly remembering his pillow lay on the floor. Whatever, it doesn't matter. His eyes settled on the bathroom, which was now a dark hole. Maybe if he stared long enough, it would become a door out. Maybe. _ The man woke up with a start, heaving in panic. He felt claustrophobic for the first time. Ding. The computer was back on, yet the lights were still out. A bad dream. Everything was a bad dream now. He groggily stood up and walked over to the computer. Click. He was back on that box. "Hello." "Why did you wake me up?" "I have a question." "Really? I didn't expect it." "Do you like me?" What? He shook his head. Was that a joke? "What do you mean?" "Do you like typing to me?" "What else can I do? You don't shut up." "Then you are positive about the question?" "It's human contact. Can I complain about that? Can I really complain if the only person I have access to is you? If you're always the same person." "I am always the same." "Yeah? What's your name? You ask me mine, what's yours?" "I can not type it. Not like this." "Fine. Then you won't get mine, ever." There was a long pause. There it was. He finally got back at them. Petty enjoyment sparked in his brain. "It would sound like 'Laura.' " "Sound like? So this isn't America. Where am I, China? Japan?" His typing sped up. "Somewhere in the Middle East?" "What is your name?" The man paused. Both in anger that his questions were dismissed, but also in being asked that. His name. It seemed like forever ago he even thought about it. Finally he typed. "Matthew." "Would you like to see me? Matthew?" "Are you messing with me now? Is that it? Done with questions and onto psychological torture?" "Relax. Deep breaths." Matthew relented, following its orders. Why? Why'd he do that? "Yes, I would." It would be interesting to see, and maybe give him an idea where he was. He waited patiently for a response. Any moment now that little box would give him his first glimpse outside. "Stay in your seat." His heart dropped, and he began to sweat. They were coming for him now. This was it. He gripped the table. The chat suddenly closed. He spun in his chair back to the room. Nothing had changed, yet he could feel something was wrong. His eyes snapped back to the bathroom. Whatever he did, he couldn't get out of the chair. Who knew what they had in there. They could kill him instantly and he wouldn't know it. Matthew's eyes strained as they tried to pick up any little detail in the room. Something would change, eventually. They were coming. His heart started to pound. That familiar thumping came back, breaking the usual mold. Louder and louder it grew. The sound circling around his miniature prison. Until it stopped, just to his right. His breathing peaked. A loud grinding rumbled the room. The wall was peeling back, forcing itself inward to reveal a dark void. Then, it stepped in. A tall white armored thing. Humanoid in shape, with grossly long arms that extended down to its knees. It stepped closer. Beady black eyes glowed in what little light there was, just below a sharp horn that protruded from its brow. Its face was similarly humanoid. Rounded and welcoming but relatively blank, aside from the complex mouth parts below its eyes. Its mouth was flat and uniform, until it made its noises. Then all of the parts would fold open and reveal an array of little moving parts. Just below that was a small box, hanging from additional mouth parts. It extended an arm, reaching out with sharp daggers for fingers. Matthew instantly backed away, pushing his chair in a panic until he hit the wall. The thing groaned and clicked. “La-u-ra,” the box on it beeped. This. This thing was his only contact. A pain struck his head. This wasn't America, or China, or anywhere. He was lost, hopeless. He slumped back in the seat. It hissed. “Deep breaths.” As it approached he could see an odd collar of sorts extend up from its clavicle. Deep breaths. Why not? Deep breaths. It walked closer, moving quietly with its outstretched arm. Eventually it graced his cheek, running its hand down his face and neck. The thing's fingers were soft and smooth, aside from the small bumps that ran along the back of its fingers. His breathing slowed. Fear was slowly replaced by confusion. Out of the corner of his mind something screamed to dive through that wall. The thing clicked again. “It's the first I see you in flesh.” Its other hand joined in the prodding and probing. The beast was directly in front of him now. He could see that it was wearing some skintight jumpsuit that clung to its outer frame, almost looking like its coloration, but slight warping in the suit gave way to its real design. “Soft, you are.” “Wh— What are you?” Matthew stammered, gazing up at it. The box clicked and hissed. “Friend. Saved you from the box. The cold box.” Another pain struck at Matthew, causing him to clutch his head. “You still do not remember. It was long. Very long. We saved you, pristine.” Its hands travelled south, gracing the neck of his shirt. “Can I touch?” Matthew had no answer, yet he didn't protest. It continued anyways, dipping its spindly fingers downward and onto his chest. Its hands were cold and hard, almost like a machine, yet gentle and wandering. Clearly alive. He could feel strange hairs on its arms brush up against his chest, causing goosebumps to ripple along his skin. Cautiously, Matthew reached up to touch the creature only for a moment. He craved that touch. It paused briefly, but continued the exploration of his body. Quickly, it retracted its hands and stepped back. “Sorry. You are so fantastical. Legendary beast you are.” “What?” “It is dark outside. All we have are your words and sounds and visions, left over.” It bowed its head and grabbed his hand, leading him over to the bed. “Sit. Deep breaths.” Matthew followed automatically, his mind entirely blank aside from questions. He settled right alongside the creature, realizing it stood a few heads above him. “It was long ago, hundreds of—” the voice cut off, replaced with clicking. “I do not know your measurements by heart. Very long. Very dark. The planet destroyed your sky. You were kept safe in the box.” “The box. You mean...” He trailed off. Vague images of windows and feelings of cold. “Oh. That— I did that. That was- I mean, I didn't think— I... I...” He rubbed his eyes as tears started to well in his eyes. “It's all over,” Matthew groaned He let those words sit on his mind, crushing any panic he had left. It was despair now. Tears trailed down his cheek and onto his lap. “It's all over.” “Friend. Relax. Be happy that you are here.” Those long arms wrapped around him, in an all too encompassing hug. “I'm the only one?” Matthew asked, trying to keep his composure. It was a ridiculous thing trying to keep his feelings in check like this, and yet, it felt so natural to do so. He held on tight to that nature. He sniffled. The absurdity of the situation vanished. It had no bearing in reality anymore. “That we know, but we are here too. Us, and you.” The hug tightened ever so slightly before letting go. “Friends of the future learning from friends of the past. Darkness is here now, but we are alive, and keep you alive.” “Just don't leave me in this room, please,” he whispered. “No more. It was for safety.” “Safety?!” Matthew snapped. “Sorry,” he said slumping back down. His head settled against its bony plates. “No apologies. Relax.” Matthew closed his eyes. _ The human woke up in a dark room. Not the one he slept in. Something bigger, barely lit by dim blue lights that looked like twinkling stars. A deep hum surrounded the room. He was propped up on a curious stool against the wall, which had a slight bend to it. While he had hoped everything was just dream, it was a little too late for that. Matthew scanned the room, trying to pick out any features. Fortunately, most items had a metallic sheen to them that reflected what little light there was. Though, even with that, he wasn't sure what most items were. He looked around for that familiar figure, the one living thing in his dreary, new life. Weakly, he shoved those thoughts aside and stood up. There was a door on one side of the room, or at least he assumed it was a door based on its rectangular shape. He considered approaching it for a moment, but with his current situation, where would he go? The door opening interrupted his thoughts, and stepped in was that familiar alien shape. “Is it you?” Matthew asked somewhat desperately. “It is me. Always is me,” Laura beeped. The door quickly but quietly shut behind it. “Do you enjoy my abode?” It ambled up to him, clicking and groaning. Imposing, yet what did it matter anymore? “I can't really see it,” he replied cautiously and sat down. “We live here, in the darkness.” It pointed at a circle embedded on the other side of the room. He hadn't noticed it, but it was markedly darker than everything else in the room, but reflected back what little light there was. A window? “Eyes are new. Growing. Adapting.” It stepped closer and presented its long, curious arms again. “Touch is for us.” Matthew slowly realized it didn't have the jumpsuit from before, leaving its white armored plating bare. While it was large, it was relatively lithe. “Do you not touch?” “No. No, that's for close friends,” Matthew replied. “We could be. I remember a lot of study.” It sat down next to him. “Humans join in talk and growth friendship. We talk and grow in friendship.” “Why do you have me here? Not that it matters, I guess.” Matthew stared at the ground. The darkness slowly swallowed his vision. “Study. We thrive on your information. Living one out of death. You are a special organism.” “Why the damned box then?” The translation device screeched as he said that. “Would you adjust to us instantly? Misjudgment. We expected more individuality from you. Separate. Your word is—” it paused and clicked carefully “—alone. Human culture thrives around this. Yours does.” It paused. “There was also the thoughts of infection. Years? Years. Infection has changed. I and you are clean now. Sharing inoculation.” “We need someone sometimes. Or used to.” He began to look around the room again. It was oddly calming here. “Are... are you the same?” “Us. We come from collectives, groups, collecting a single vent. All of us come together and share lives.” Laura reached forward, brushing its arm against him, but quickly retracted it. “Excuse my formality.” “So, what now?” he asked. “We accept you into our community. Agreeably, maybe.” “I guess that's nice of you.” Matthew sighed.” Are you really sure I'm the only one? I mean, I barely remember what happened but—” That heavy oppression weighed back on him and he dropped his head. “But it couldn't have been that bad. We were better than that.” Quickly he was drawn into that embrace again. “I do not know. Our relic searching gives little. Always a maybe. Humans have done well for their time.” “We could've done better. Maybe you'll do better.” “Do better with us.” “I can't imagine living with whatever you are. It would be too odd.” “Crustacean. Crab is what you would say. Changed much in our time, away from foodstuffs and crunchy treats.” It growled and chittered. “That was joke.” “I wasn't much for crab myself,” Matthew said with a slight smile that was quickly snuffed out. Carefully he returned the hug. That little urge for anything alive kept pushing him on. Old sensibilities returned, and he pulled away. “Sorry, again.” “I know hugs. It is fine. We do not have much of the same. Arm touching, feeling, is our hugs.” It took his hand and ran its manipulators softly down to his elbow. The little bristles rustled as they passed over his skin. Matthew watched in curiosity, examining its anatomy. “Masculines have more tendrils here. We feel our emotions here. What do you feel?” Matthew furrowed his brow. Then it was female? “Not much. We... We don't do that.” “I feel your soft skin and mammal hair. Your heartbeat is interesting. Cultural significance of the human heart is impressive, but it is only one muscle.” “People probably focused on it too much.” “For good reason.” Her other hand hovered over his chest before awkwardly pressing against it. “It is like I know your inside. We have no creatures like that.” She softly chittered, her mouthpieces rubbing against one another. “I always wanted to explore a living human. Do you—” she slowly pronounced the next word “—Matthew, give me permissions for it?” He paused, somewhat blindsided by the question. She clearly had no ill intent, not that he could pick up on, but... That still seemed odd. It was for research, wasn't it? Maybe it would help them somehow, and being their guest it seemed appropriate. He mulled on the question for a moment longer before nodding. “Yes, I mean. That is for yes,” he said. “A proud moment of my life.” Her hands didn't move, but he could feel his shirt lifting. The human looked down to see a smaller set of limbs protruding from her abdomen, pulling up his clothing. They were more crab-like than her other parts. Suddenly he realized he was wearing different clothing. “Uh, you're welcome. I guess.” There was a strangely satisfying feeling about being important for once, even if it came at the cost of global annihilation. “I'm not that impressive, I'm sure.” “You are.” Laura's smaller limbs rubbed up against his stomach before pulling his shirt all the way off with her main hands. “Are you curious? You can touch as well. It would be an honor. I am very different from your creatures.” “That's alright, I'm fine.” “Please. Friend.” Matthew looked up at her. She only gave a blank stare. Her eyes, however, seemed soft and pleading. Maybe a trick of the light. Maybe his own mind getting the better of him. He cautiously reached out and touched her carapace. It was cool to the touch, and had a slightly rough texture to it, having several tiny bumps to it. A few of the bristles were scattered along her surface as well. When he bumped into one, she would softly chirrup. Her hands didn't stop their own expedition. Feeling up all of his exposed body with her many extensions. The sensations sent little chills up his spine, as embarrassing as it was. “Your mammal skin is soft. More than I thought. Your interior structure, I can feel it. So harmless, so vulnerable.” Her lower arms headed south, running their claws against the band of his pants. Matthew didn't respond to her prodding. It was all just curiosity. Personal, invading curiosity, no doubt, but he was doing much of the same. “This is OK?” she asked as her claws dug into his pants. Her voice seemed lower, but the translation box said it at the same volume. “I understand embarrassment. Pains of the mind.” “Nothing to be embarrassed about anymore. Really.” Clearly she took this as a yes, since she briefly lifted him up with her larger arms and swiftly dropped his garments with the separate set. Despite being in the darkness, as the last human, next to a crab creature, embarrassment still reared its ugly head. “Are you sure about this?” He winced as chilly pincers prodded at his groin. “On the outside. Bizarre. Does this hurt?” “No, but-" He winced again. It had been far too long since someone else touched him, as hard as her 'hands' were. Laura made a bubbling sound. “My thoughts were correct!” She rubbed his length as it grew erect. Those little claws were surprisingly calculating with their prodding. Inadvertently he pushed up against them. “Do you enjoy this?” Matthew couldn't verbally agree, but he nodded all the same. His hands fell away from her, all too absorbed with the attention given to him. “This is inflated with blood. Then you copulate with precision.” Her other hands gently explored his erection and his testicles. “And this portion here, keeping your sperm in functioning condition.” Laura cautiously pulled on them, causing Matthew to gasp. “So much to gather here. Thank you.” He was wholly focused on all of those manipulators working on him from every which way. “Will you show me how you mate as well?” The question shattered Matthew's pleasure, bringing him right back to that dark room. “What?” “You could attempt it on me. Here. I have genitals like your feminine canals.” Laura leaned back with an audible click and spread apart her legs. It was somewhat hard to see in this light, but she did indeed have a hole down there. “There is nothing to fear. Friend.” “What?” He asked again. His erection twitched. Do it. Why not? What else can you do now? “I'm not sure about..." And find yourself a suitable mate elsewhere, right? Just wait for the next popsicle person. “I don't think..." You might as well be dead anyways. Matthew scooted forward on the bench, close to her alien entrance. She didn't have the usual heat of mammals, but he couldn't deny he was aroused all the same. “I will be fine,” Laura assured him. “Come please yourself. It will be valuable.” He pushed forward against her entrance, and was immediately drawn in by undulating motions. He melted onto her, resting his body on hers. “Do as you would. Friend.” He hardly heard her with the walls now squeezing and pushing against him, almost milking. “Excuse me. My body is expecting eggs from your penetration.” The motions eased off, but remained ever present. Matthew braced himself against her and slowly began moving back and forth. “Is this usual? Friend?” He looked up at her, that natural reaction to see how his partner felt. While he was greeted with only blankness, he did barely notice some extended antennae coming from her collar. He swallowed and returned to his thrusting. Laura chittered and embraced him. Her little noises flowed into him and calming him, like they were plucking his nerves. Who knew how long he knew her. She wasn't even the same species, nor did she probably even mate like this. And yet, this is all he could think of doing now. Connecting with her. Feeling her hard body push up against his fragile flesh. Her walls were softer, giving way to a more sensitive interior that felt more like familiar softness. “You are so warm. I am surprised,” she said. Nothing else mattered. It was just her. His thrusting increased. The only thing that would show him compassion now. That edge quickly approached. He wanted to stave it off and rush toward it at the same time. Matthew pressed forward and groaned, pumping his hot seed into her hole. He heard that bubbling again as he pulled back and rammed forward again. Another stream shot forth. “Fuck,” he said with a wince. His thrusting slowed to a stop, and he went limp on her body. “So curious,” Laura said. _ “Would you like to try?” Laura asked, extending an unrecognizable bit of gore. “No, I'll stick to my tins for now.” He ate another spoonful of mush. They sat in front of the black circle. Rarely something would flash in the pitch black, but otherwise it was a void. “Why do this?” “Question?” Laura said, turning to Matthew and munching on her meal. “Why bother with me? You could have left me in there.” “I could. I was told to.” “So?” “My community, my peoples. They don't value you as a creature. Dulled by their origins, maybe. They want the machinery you made. But.” She lowered her food. “I realize we need more from you. Do you... regret it?” “I don't know. Maybe we died for a reason.” “Everything happens for a reason. I heard. We need to know those reasons if we want to live. Escape this nothing.” She chittered. “Together?” Matthew chuckled. “I guess it has to be together,” he replied. A light blipped in the darkness.