Mr. Mortok's Hall of Curiosities

The Companion

     Mr. Ivan told me that I was special, that I was not like other children and I never would be. My body does look like theirs, but on the inside I do not have blood like they do; I have oil and gears. I have a pulse, the ebb and flow of the fluids that I need and I can eat too, but it's not really a necessity; I don't get anything particular from it. Later, it comes out in the toilet though, just like for anyone else. Really, I'm just like you.

     Do you remember the day you got me? When you came to Mr. Ivan and you asked for someone to love? You couldn't conceive and you felt a void in your life. You had wanted a child. More than anything, you'd wanted a child and you didn't care how you got one. Why couldn't you adopt? I've always wondered about that. Why not pick a human baby rather than myself? Maybe it was because I am superior, because I'm special? Did it not have anything to do with me at all? Maybe you'd done something bad in the past that all that money you had couldn't get rid of? Don't worry; I'm not judging you. I love you and I always will. You've cared for me, and clothed me, and fed me, and given me so much love. I would never turn away from you; I would never want to deny you my affection over a silly mistake you may have made in the past.

     I remember when you and father came in. How nervous you were; how lost you looked. Mr. Ivan, he was kind to you wasn't he? He gave you tea and listened to what you wanted, to what you needed, and he made you feel at ease. He's very good at that because Mr. Ivan is a nice man.

     I knew right away that you would love me and that I would love you. You seemed so nice and so kind, and I knew that it was cruel that you weren't able to have a child of your own. I thought about how utterly terrible and tragic it was, that with all the success you'd enjoyed, that this one thing, which was so very important to you, was something you couldn't have. I knew I wanted to make you happy when I saw you. I knew that we could be a happy family. A perfect family.

     It is Mr. Ivan's assumption that eight years old is the perfect age for the nostalgia factor of children. Perhaps ten is a milestone that is psychologically significant. Maybe many people have fond memories of when they were eight years old and that is why they cling so fiercely to the idea of eight being the perfect age. Maybe you would have liked me a little older. I'm sure Mr. Ivan could have managed that for you, but you didn't ask him to change a single thing about me. My heart blossomed with so much love when you hugged me and held me close. I remember you asking me if I wanted to go home with you. I'd wanted to be your child so badly. I remember being so afraid that you wouldn't like something about me, and when you looked at me with so much love it made my heart soar.

     We were so happy, you, dad and I, so very happy. It was funny how worried you were about things like bathing and eating. You didn't want me to do anything I wasn't comfortable with, but you didn't have to worry. I was built to be a child, and so I do all the same things that children can do. I need love too, just like any child does. I loved when Dad played catch with me almost immediately, it made me feel like I belonged, like I'd found my place in the world. I tried so hard to be good for you and Dad. I'm sorry for the mischief I would sometimes get into, the things I would sometimes break on accident. I didn't mean to scare you that one time when I wandered off, I just wanted to see the world. Thank you so much for not getting that angry at me when I would misbehave.

     Our first trip together, do you remember that? Do you remember where you took me? I do. We went to the sea shore, you bought me a new bathing suit and warned me to be careful in the water. Though I only weigh a little more than an ordinary boy my age, swimming is always difficult. I'm very dense and not really buoyant enough, which is something that I am pretty embarrassed about. I remember how I got angry that I wasn't human enough to swim without water wings. I was so upset, but you and dad kissed me and told me that it didn't matter. You said that I was your little boy and that was all you cared about. You were so wonderful. We had so much fun on that trip. I got to eat snow cones for the first time and we built sandcastles together. I think all of the other mothers were jealous of what a well behaved boy you had. I did my best that day. I wanted to wander off and see what there was to do but I made sure to stay close. You were so kind to me that I didn't want to worry you.