My heart thumped loudly against my chest as I ran away. Away from the hushed voices, away from the sterile white room. Away from wires clipped to me. Something was blaring above me as I made my escape. Barefoot and in a hospital gown–or that is what it seems to be, I get out.
Sunlight blasts into my retinas, and I shield my eyes, but I don't have time to stop. So I keep running and running–maneuvering through streets and alleys, even buildings. They kept calling me 'Subject Seven' or 'Seven'. Maybe I am seven.
Maybe that is my name. I accidentally knocked someone over in what looks like a grocery store. He had dark hair and glasses adorning his face. He was holding a box of something with strange names on it.
"Whoa, easy there, Flash. The blueberries aren't going anywhere," his deep voice penetrated the air. Blueberries? What are these blueberries? I wanted to ask, but I had no time. I need to get away.
"Hey," he continued. "You've got a bit of a... thermal issue going on, kid. And judging by the wardrobe, you just broke out of a place that definitely doesn't have a five-star Yelp review."
"What is a five-star? And what is Yelp review?" I asked instead. "You are not... with them, are you? Who are you?"
He muttered something about 'internet access' and whatnot before saying, "I'm not with them. Scout's honor—and I was never a scout, so that's saying something. My name is Tony. I'm a... let's go with 'independent consultant' who really hates people who put trackers on kids. And those guys in the suits out there? They aren't here for the organic kale."
I was still skeptical about this Tony or whatever. "Listen, Seven—can I call you Seven? Or do you prefer a number with fewer syllables?"
"That's fine.... Seven is fine..." I reply, still in a fighting stance.
He is not making sense in his explanations, and yet he expected me to play along, blend in.
"On three," This 'Tony' whispered. "One... two..."
And on Three I kind of went along with him.
**
Entering his place, a sense of confusion washed over me as illogical elements presented themselves, my eyes darting about in bewilderment.
"Welcome to the 'Fortress of Solitude-ish.' Ignore the mess. I have a robot arm named Dummy who thinks he's an interior decorator, but he mostly just knocks things over," Tony told me.
"Jarvis, lights to fifty percent. And let's keep the thermal scans off the main display, we don't want to make our guest feel like she's under a microscope again."
"Who is this Jarvis? Person?" I asked, halting near Tony.
"Technically? No. Physically? He's everywhere and nowhere. It's a bit of a localized omnipresence thing he's got going on," Tony answered, gesturing to walls.
And then a voice, made me so alert, I went into a fighting stance. "I'm a Just Another Rather Very Intelligent System, Miss Seven. But you may think of me as the digital ghost that keeps Mr. Stark from accidentally blowing up the kitchen."
"Whoa, whoa! Easy, Killer! Stand down," Tony said, helping me to relax on this couch, he calls it. And then he talks to this 'Jarvis' about something.
"My apologies, Miss Seven. I am merely a collection of processors. I have no physical form to harm you with."
And then Tony chimes in to say he is just a computer. Which is the most confusing thing ever. "What is a... computer?"
"Right. Ground zero. We are starting at the literal discovery of fire," he muttered. "A computer is... think of it like a brain in a box. It doesn't eat, it doesn't sleep, it just remembers things and solves puzzles. Jarvis is just a very, very big brain that lives in the wires of this building."
I look at Tony a little skeptically. And there is noise making me coil up again and turn.
"That's just a friend, Seven. Big guy, very polite, smells like the 1940s," he explains.
The box we came up here in opens, a blonde man who Tony said who smells like the 1940s comes through it.
And then his voice startles me. "Tony. You're crowding her."
Keeping his distance he says his name which is Steve. Steve who smells like 40s, Got it.
**
While they spoke to each other, I press the buttons over and over–fascinated by how it works. "This making sound. This normal?" I shouted across the room.
"Normal? Nothing in this building is normal, kid! But yeah, that's music!" Tony replied. There seems to be two blue buttons, I reach out press it just as he says, "It's supposed to be loud! If it's too much, just hit the blue one—no, the other blue one!"
"It's okay, Seven! It's just a song! It can't hurt you! Does it feel... too loud?" Steve–the 40s guy calls out. I press the button that seems to be a plus sign. Well it is getting louder.
I keep messing with other things too. They are fascinating. And I mess with stuff that is Tony's. I took one of the odd looking things to see what it does and Tony beelines towards me and grabs it.
"You've got a real knack for finding the most explosive thing in a room of ten thousand objects. That's a gift. A terrifying, expensive gift."
"Tony, she didn't know," he said to Tony and told to me, "He's not mad at you, Seven. He's just... protective of his work. And he doesn't want you to get hurt. That thing you took? It's too much power, even for someone like you."
"Teach me then, man who smells like 40s," I said to Steve. And I call Tony, 'Man with glasses'. What awaits for me out there? Them. Those people and their experiments.