Are We Human?

Chapter 13

It only took me about a week to adjust to the homeless and afraid life. It honestly wasn't too bad, but it still somehow felt worse than being a clone in the Camp. There wasn't always accessible showers. There wasn't a convenient cafeteria to stop and eat at three times a day. People with regular and higher lives even looked at me the same way as the guards looked at me. Their eyes were filled to the brim with a mix of pity and utter disgust.

It was only a few days after I had found out about Phil that I found Ivan, though. Or, rather, he found me.

I was sleeping on a bench that I now called home in the same park that I had stayed at since my escape when he walked up to me. "What're you doing here, boy? Where's your family?"

His voice was loud enough to wake me from my light slumber, but smooth and still enough to not set off too many panic alarms in my brain. "I don't have any... anymore." I grumbled sleepily as I sat up. My eyes had a bit of a difficult time adjusting to the sunlight, so I rubbed them with the backs of my knuckles to help them adapt.

When they finally focused, I was met with an image of an older man than me, but not by that much. I'd have guessed mid thirties, early forties tops. His chin was infected with clusters of wispy hairs, most holding the same brown color as the rat's nest atop his head but the rest faded to the grey of the sky before it drizzles little couplets of rain. His teeth were yellowed and his green eyes were sunken into his face. They reminded me of Pj's eyes and I quickly avoided the feature. His clothes were battered and falling apart at the seams. His hands were cracked and calloused. His skin was rough and filthy, but he still somehow let off an approachable vibe.

And I knew then that he was my savior.

"Well, that sucks." He plopped down next to me. He sat close enough for us to talk in a friendly conversation, but far enough that we didn't quite touch. I felt grateful that he took my comfort into account.

He held up his finger before reaching into one of the tattered holes in his pants he called pockets and pulling out a full sandwich, split in two by a cut running diagonal on it, and held out one half to me.

I shook my head, not wanting to take food away from him, but he pressed more towards me, hand officially invading my person space. "It's okay. You haven't eaten in, what, three days I'm guessing? Maybe longer? You're terribly skinny and definitely need it more than I do."

I stared down at his hand for a few seconds before eventually giving in and taking the wedge of nourishment. I met the sandwich to hesitant tongue and bit down slowly into it. It tasted of cold turkey and slightly stale bread, but it had to have been the best thing I had eaten since camp. It was the only thing I'd eaten since camp, actually.

We sat there in a comfortable silence until we both had eaten our fair share. The quiet sitting between us slowly turned from fine to unbearably awkward. I felt like I had a duty to move my mouth and force air to slip past my vocal cords, but my brain couldn't quite think of anything intellectual to say. So instead we just watched the trees sway in the breeze and the baby birds of the season begin to spring out of their nests in their first ever flight.

"Are you going to tell me?" Ivan's voice shooed the silence away like someone whooshing away a pesky fly.

I was startled into replying. "Sorry?"

"Where you're from." Ivan pressed on, like I should have known what he was talking about in the first place. "Why you're here. Why you're out in the streets. Young guy like you belongs in a big house with a beautiful wife," I tensed up a bit. "Or husband. Or spouse. I don't know, whatever floats your boat, I guess. I don't really care, but my point is that you don't belong here."

"Do any of you belong here?" My lips moved without my permission, as if they were suddenly hacked into and controlled with a wireless mouse. "Do any of you people belong out on the streets? Cold and forgotten by society?"

He stared at me for a long time, expression blank and expressionless and I held his gaze with the same intensity. It wasn't an angry sort of look, but we both still challenged the other to look away first. Eventually, he did. 

"Oh, I like you." He spoke quietly but with a smile, a laugh rising in his throat but not quite escaping.

I laughed in spite of myself. The motion felt so foreign and strange to me that I broke into a coughing fit about half way through my barking laugh. Ivan simply chuckled and patted my back in a nice, gentle tap.

"Hey, I gotta go. I was supposed to meet a few of my buddies after I got that sandwich. If you want, I could introduce you to some of them. They might even be able to help you."

I evaluated his offer for a few seconds in my head, but inevitably came to the conclusion that I did not want to socialize with humans at this time. I shook my head and looked down, feeling a bit ashamed, letting my brown fringe fall in front of my face like a cloth over a dead body in the morgue.

Ivan only shrugged in response. "That's okay. Well, my stop is just down this road right here." He pointed to one of the street/roads, roads, as he spoke. "If you ever need me, you know where to find me."

I simply nodded as he got up and walked away, my "thank you" to him stuck on my tongue, trapped in a film of glue and doubt.