One of Them

They always looked at me strangely during the day. Like I was either something to be abhorred or something to be laughed at, I could never discern which. It used to bother me. I used to cover my body with a dark cloak and walk with my head bent, eyes looking to the ground. It doesn’t bother me anymore. Finally, I am one of them. At night, I am allowed out, because we are the same.

I am grateful for my evolution. Despite my new responsibilities, my life is now easier. Before now, every morning I would look at my hands, hoping fervently that I’d finally changed. I was only allowed out during the day, because the night belonged only to them. At five, I would have to return to my solitary quarters, and feel their gaze upon me as they laughed silently and whispered about the retarded one, the Never-Change. Now, despite their distrust of me still, they have accepted me. I am no longer doomed to the life of a Never-Change.

It began as something to occupy my mind through the night when I was not allowed out. I could not sleep. Not because it was too loud to sleep—after all, their work was completely silent—but because the restless nature of my mind was such that it was completely impossible for me to stop thinking. Anyway, laying there in the dark solace, I began to wonder if my situation, my retardation was permanent. I had not changed at the age of sixteen, and the last five years had brought no change for me either. My hive-mates had determined that I was a Never-Change, destined to be human forever. Destined to be retarded, never evolving into the catlike form that all of my kind are supposed to take. Instead of being able to protect the humans that share our planet, I was forced to live like one.