My captors have isolated me with a tiny humanoid. It looks innocent--indeed, its appearance evokes in me a kind of atavistic instinct to nurture and protect it. It seems in all ways like living flesh but I think it must be a construct of some kind as no living thing could be so indefatigable and relentless. It has recently gone into some kind of resting mode; perhaps I will have an opportunity to examine it more closely, though its resting platform is guarded by two beasts, small furry creatures it calls "dogs," which, though small, make ferocious noises and are possessed of fangs.
I do not know how long the resting mode will last. I must write quickly.
I have learned that when the tiny humanoid utters the nonsense syllable "mom," it is seeking my attention. Using this attention-seeking strategy, which becomes louder and evolves into the two-syllable "mommy" if I do not respond quickly enough, it issues contradictory requests and disconnected pronouncements at intervals of approximately 6-10 seconds at all times when not in resting mode. I am obligated to respond to these requests although it is not possible to fulfill them all. I do my best to comply although I am exhausted by the effort.
I do not know what the tiny humanoid is capable of; I fear its punishment. Sometimes it arms itself.
And it is a master of disguise.
It seems to have an "argumentation" subroutine installed which leads it to reject every proposal I make or proposition I utter. Its programming is clearly sophisticated, yet a bug in its code causes it to misunderstand the word "no" or any other negative response as permission to proceed. My only respite comes when it turns its attention to the other beings that share our enclosure, these "dogs." They do not speak but also demand my attention and care, as do some minute caged creatures the tiny humanoid refers to as "hamsters." In addition to the other challenges I face, I must protect these creatures from the tiny humanoid's depredations.
I do not know what purpose my torment serves: amusement for some hidden observer? some scientific purpose? punishment? I only know I must endure. Perhaps someday I may return to the life I knew before. Dreamlike and half-remembered, it nonetheless gives me hope. In the meantime, I ingest vast quantities of a stimulating sugary beverage with which the food cooling unit is stocked, and visit the personal hygeine cubicle as often as possible. There I may gain a few precious seconds of peace before my tiny tormentor tracks me down. The sound of its voice calling "mom" from the other side of the door fills me with dread. What will it ask of me next?
2 comments:
Highly active, extroverted preschool aged child at home all day without massive exhausting (to you) structured (by her) activities (with just you?)--I know your condition well. Get thee to your local parks and rec programs if you have any! Tried to unschool a child like that and he ended up unhinging me instead. Not kidding.
Btw, I've been enjoying the renewed blogging.
Rosemary
Last year, she was in half-day camp most of the summer. This year, I'm trying not to spend the money...We'll see how I hold up!
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