In the midst of war, a lone protogen sets out to survive rather than thrive, after his ship crashes on earth. Will he make it back to a home he never had?
Disclaimer: this is a fictional work. Correlation between real world events and this story's c...
He flipped over, rustling the covers grumbling. The protogen's arm flailed around, searching for the snooze button on the "alarm clock" that Mateo had shown him the night before.
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MEEP. MEE...
He sighed, staring at the ceiling as the tint of his visor from rest mode began to fade. The protogen flipped over, stretching the swivel joints in his shoulders before he finally sat up. The protogen frowned at the sight of his talons caught in the blanket he had been given. Carefully, he tugged at the folds, but the protogen still winced as he heard a slight rrrrip from where the fabric caught on a claw.
He swung his legs off of the bed and limbered slowly to the window. Cheerful desert sun lit up his silky black fur, tossing a glare over his visor. Outside, the sun hadn't yet reached its midday peak, which meant It was still cool and crisp. It was a good morning.
Good Morning?
Good morning. The protogen tested the words in his mind over and over until they stopped making any sense.
What did that even mean? Good morning. Pffft Shouldn't it be excited morning, or at least happy morning? Human terms were so strange. Or maybe it just seemed that way because he was impaired? The protogen was still in a daze. One moment he had been wandering aimlessly, trapped under a sunbleached bridge. Now we was here... in the house of a groundling family, eating their food, watching comets fly past the night sky, and... wondering how he was going to leave this planet.
He started back for the bed with a sigh and uncovered his datapad. If he was ever going to get off of this dusty rock, he would need to make sure and bring the blanket with him.
Late last night, he had finally made up his mind. The worst case scenario would be that he was discovered. If found, he would just have to become invisible again and lay low. That idea seemed almost bittersweet, but why? Wasn't he simply just tired of running?
The sleepy protogen bent over to sprawl over the sheets, but the moment his fur brushed the blanket...
ZAP!
He froze, hissing to himself. Out of all the grandiose commodities that these creatures could have engineered, there was nothing he wished for more than anti static bedding. Great, now he was fluffy and unbearably electronegative. The protogen could practically smell the ozone burning in the electrified air.
As he snatched the tablet off the bed, his fur crackled a few more times and he froze. NO MORE.
Wait... was his scuffling too loud? He shot a quick look at his wrist to make sure his projector was still attached. Sure enough, it was right where he had clamped it to his wrist mount the night before.
