Am sorry I hurt you.
-Peterson.
I smiled. Maybe getting clawed was worth it when the reward was chocolate. I bit off a corner and let the creamy flavor melt on my tongue. After a few more bites, I re-wrapped it and tucked it back in my waistband. I’d have to find a hiding place, since Kenmore would discover it the next time he operated.
So, Peterson was sorry he'd injured me. Good. A win for me. A pang of guilt swept over me. I felt terrible for killing his mouse, even though it had been accidental. I’d tried to fall away, but the force with which the second guard had hit me had been too powerful.
I wished for something to give him in return. Something to show I was sorry about his mouse.
The itching in my arms began again. I rubbed my skin furiously as I paced the small cell.
Thirteen
An hour later, the tingling in my arms still drove me nuts. Worse, a wave of nausea had struck, forcing me to lie in bed. Was I suddenly allergic to chocolate? Had Peterson laced the candy bar with poison? Or was I having side effects from Kenmore’s experiments?
I forced myself up, feverish but determined. I stumbled to the door. “Kenmore, you asshole,” I yelled. “What are you doing to me?”
Sufficiently pissed off and feeling a growing sense of panic at the painful tingling, I tore apart anything loose I could find: my bedcovers, the mattress, pillow—tiny, white puffs of cotton batting littered the floor in my wake. I flung The Hitchhiker’s Guide book at the camera. I kicked the door to no effect because they’d confiscated my boots after my escape attempt. Now they forced me to wear a pale blue uniform like a mental patient. What would be next—a straitjacket?
I banged against the door. “Kenmore, answer me goddammit!”
No reaction; not a sound in the hallway.
A flood of tears threatened to burst forth. No, I told myself. I won’t let them see me ugly cry. “Joanie,” I muttered and sank to the ground near the door. Limp as a bird soaked in oil, I stared at the dull gray tiles. Numb and hopeless. Maybe I’d reached my breaking point.
Then I heard footsteps. “Peterson?” I jerked my head and banged it against the door, too weak to bother knocking. “I’m so thirsty. May I have some water?”
He shoved a small bottle through the meal slot without a word. The sound of his boots echoed, then faded as he continued his rounds. “Come back,” I whispered, but he'd already gone.
Then I spied the dead mouse in a corner where Kenmore had tossed after the accident. Real hygienic, Doc.
Crawling toward it, I poked its stiff body and sniffed. I’d read once that dead bodies begin to rot and stink after a while. The small creature didn’t smell yet. After touching it, my finger tingled, and I yanked my arm away. The sensation was strong, as if something had buzzed me with electricity. I raised my palms. Examining my skin, I saw tiny ripples underneath my flesh. Bubbles formed and undulated deep in my hands.
Gasping, I straightened, grateful my back faced the camera. I watched, entranced and horrified, as the waves traveled from my palms into my fingers while others crawled up my arms.
I climbed to my feet, arms spread. What had Kenmore done to me? My mouth gaped as I struggled for air. My skin flushed as a wave of dizziness gripped me. But there was something else… exhilaration.
I peered down at the dead mouse. Sinking to my knees, I instinctively grasped the body and cradled it in my palms. As if attracted to the lifeless animal, the waves inside me changed direction, and navigated toward my hands. My breathing slowed, and I watched as the ripples gathered in my fingers, lining up.
My eyelids grew heavy and closed without warning. Somehow, I could see miniature beads of light surrounded by darkness, darting everywhere. Then, suddenly, the lights jumped from my fingers onto the mouse’s body, then burrowed past hair follicles, broke past the skin barrier, and traveled inside the creature.
I was one of the lights, spinning inside the rodent’s body. I guided the others. Wherever I wanted to go—turn left here, stop, and reverse there—happened. Just by thinking it. We surged through the creature and charged its delicate organs, infusing its body with the power of our light. How was this possible?
Then I pulled away as warmth and brightness cascaded all around me like a blanket being lowered over me. I knew that if I didn’t get out fast, I might end up stuck inside. The heat chased me as if it wanted to suffocate me. I directed the lights to flee and return to my fingers.
And in a second, I had exited the mouse’s body. The tiny lights jumped back into my hands and flooded my arms, where they settled and became still.
I exhaled violently. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath for so long. The tingling and itching had disappeared.
Peterson’s mouse twitched in my palm and tickled me with her whiskers.
She was alive.
Fourteen
I cupped the squirming mouse. My stomach churned, and I broke into a cold sweat. She had been lifeless for many hours. Had the tiny things inside my arms brought her back to life? But that was ridiculous. People didn’t just raise the dead. I climbed to my feet, still grasping the mouse. Peterson—he needed to know.
“Hey, Peterson,” I rapped my knuckles on the door. “Come here. Quick!”
My voice echoed in the hallway as I waited.
“Peterson, please.” My breath came in heavy sighs. “I have something important to show you.”
No sign of him. I paced, trying to think of a plan, but adrenaline made me shaky and clouded my thoughts. Eyeing the camera, I returned to my small hidden corner and examined the rodent, close up this time. “Are you the same mouse?”
Her tiny pink nose wrinkled as she stared at me with glassy
