The Uncanny

Bright white clinical lighting beams down, consistent and unfaltering, not a dark corner in the room. Swarms of identical white coats huddle at computers, tables, and notably, staring through a tall wall of glass, looking into a room of clustered trees. Watching. Waiting.

An electronic voice booming through speakers rouses quiet chatter within each of the huddles; furious scribbling adds to the noise. Piled forms show scrawled and sporadic writing, though visibly not from the same hand; filling grids and boxes with detailed information. The majority of the monitors show low-quality video from the glass room beside the laboratory. It is uncannily still within, though a small, bony figure can be seen curled deep within a shadowed corner to the left-hand side, head bent, watching the floor with what appears to be intense focus, half-clothed and animalistic. From the perspective of an onlooker, it is uncertain whether the figure is human or wild, dead or alive. There are many things an onlooker wouldn't notice here. Nude lipstick on the rim of a stained coffee mug; a mesh container of pens on each row of desks. A man standing in the corner of a room, looking thoughtful, appearing engaged in his work. But there is a slight downward turn to his lips; creases of worry around his eyes. They wander a little, peering to the side on occasion, gazing into the room with a sort of confused, sympathetic look.

Scientists are supposed to keep a neutral perspective on the experiment; 'the good of humanity' being their half-baked reasoning. Any critical thought kept strictly personal and guarded. Truly, the man on the nightshift objects greatly to the guidelines of work in the facility - he thought that treating people with dignity was a simple necessity; but rent doesn't recognise morality, and science doesn't recognise basic empathy. The figure has been hunched back in the same enclosed corner since mealtime. Though a shift in position, a little movement, attracts the attention of the scientist immediately. Their eyes lock through the low light. The only border between them is a sheet of reinforced glass. Neither look away. The man steps closer, rising from his seat with some hesitation. The figure straightens, and stands tall to their feet. They begin to encroach on the space with their gangly body, reducing it little by little, caution and fear in their shuffling, disorganised steps. Neither look away.

The room is quiet.

The air is stagnant, stock-still.

But the slight, hopeful blossoming of human connection waits, with baited breath.

The laboratory is just as bustling the next day. The same writing is scrawled into forms, each scientist holds the same clipboard from the previous day. A scientist would notice no change. But a human? A human would notice there were no papers left from the night shift. A human would notice there was one less scientist in the room that day.

It's been ages, I'm so sorry haha. The last few months have been ungodly busy, though I have had plenty of ideas and will hopefully get time soon to ACTUALLY write them. This was written very quickly in English Language then heavily edited earlier today. The prompt was to write about two people from very different backgrounds and for once I vaguely followed it (I usually go and write literally the furthest thing). Halloween is tomorrow though, so I'm thinking about vampires again :) so there might be something about them soon. At least I hope.

Song Suggestion - Dinner and Diatribes - Hozier (this was a very difficult decision to make. I have plenty of other Hozier songs to choose from for later posts, currently very deep in a Hozier phase and it's one of the best decisions of my life lol)