A Messenger from Nephelokokkygia

The Cuckoo that Got the Cat's Tongue

Chapter 8: The Cuckoo that Got the Cat's Tongue

The Sphinx is his cousin, and he speaks her language; but he is more ancient than the Sphinx, and remembers that which she hath forgotten

--H.P. Lovecraft, "The Cats of Ulthar"

Agent Grammery placed—really threw—Grace inside the chamber between Fox and Diana, after first confiscating her paperclip. The cell made Grace's original closet seem well-furnished. There were no fluorescent lights above to trouble her eyes, but also no bench, blanket, or pillow. Just padded floor with matching walls and ceiling.

While locking her in, Agent Grammery promised that the Director would soon reprimand the girl. Grace checked her arms for splinters, but only found fingernail marks. A cuckoo clock ticked below.

"Hey, pigeon girl," Fox whispered through their shared wall. "You're crazy, right? Why else would you be here." This last part sounded like a statement, not a question. Then, she asked "Well, did you ever start thinking maybe your parents weren't your parents? Like, I hoped to be the princess of some foreign country, and one day my real family would rescue me."

"I thought there'd be a special place I'd fit in," Diana spoke through her own wall. "Where the ways I thought and acted turned out to be normal for once. I don't know how, but the Director found me. It seemed like he agreed, with his theory about changelings."

Grace felt glad no one could see her shocked expression. Another adult—in the government, no less—who took that fairy tale seriously. "My grandmam...grandmother believed the same thing growing up in Ireland. Her sisters said she was this fairy creature switched with a normal baby. Even used the same word!"

"You don't look very Irish." Even through a wall, it seemed obvious Fox was smirking. "Would have taken you for a colored girl."

"Doesn't everyone have a color?" rejoinded Grace. "Sure, my parents are two different colors. But they're just mom and dad."

"I don't even remember what color my parents were," admitted Diana. "That really makes me blue."

"Welcome to Ward Eight..." said Fox, "It's really s..."

An explosive "Coo-coo" interrupted.

When the orderly came for Grace, the clock noise had petered to a "meeeewwwwww" really more appropriate for a cat. She was not taken directly to Director Ambrosius. Instead, they wound up at the showers. She was not to be hosed this time. Instead, the orderly stripped her while Agent Grammery watched. With an electric hairclipper, the man set to shaving the girl's skull bare.

"In case you planned on hiding anything else in that ugly bird's nest you call hair," explained Agent Grammery. She would have sneered if her face was not still so wooden.

***

"Love the hair cut! Shows what a big brain you had under that nappiness," was the first thing Director Ambrosius said after Grace entered the room where they normally performed experiments. There were no bird cages on the table this time. "Just been drafting letters to my associates. You know, other heads of Project ARTICHOKE just think about truth serums. So far, they've only invented a chemical that, when injected in fatty food, makes victims laugh till their faces turn green. I truly believe we can accomplish so much more here! Together."

"I'm sorry, sir." Grace figured some punishment must be forthcoming. "I wasn't trying to escape. I just felt bored being stuck in that tiny room, and wanted to, er, do some exploring. Please don't get angry like Agent Grammery."

"Of course I'm not angry about your little field trip," Director Ambrosius smiled, making crinkles around his eyes. "You have the makings of a great spy, Miss Grey. You just need the proper mentorship steering you down the right path. It's easy: just follow instructions. Happily, without resistance. Trust that the grown-ups know what's best for you. Note this isn't a punishment, but you'll no longer get those little Friday visits with your parents."