Chapter Text
Hot Wings and Pizza are Greater Than Dirt
Lunchtime was signaled by the loud screeching of a mechanical bell. As his first order as a leader, Subject 582-899K had us line up beside the door in a neat little row, but that immediately failed, much to his chagrin. I guess in the heat of the moment, he forgot that being proper didn't matter when we were swallowed up by the sea of other kids looking for their mid-afternoon meal.
It also doesn't help that it's Pizza Monday, either. I reminded myself, my mouth watering almost immediately at the thought of downing a horse's worth of those delicious, thick-crusted pepperoni slices.
The cafeteria was marked by murals depicting the four seasons and loudly echoed with the sounds of chattering children and clinking dinnerware. I noticed that everyone—specifically the kids who were four and five, like myself, Subjects 460-700M, 754-092F, and 441-010R—were much more relaxed than they were this morning. Was it because they were having a hot meal with friends? Or because they were happy to be placed in a group?
"No, if that were the case, the older kids near them wouldn't be as tense," I muttered as I caught sight of a boy with raven hair and matching v-shaped dog ears staring down the guard stationed near the exit with narrowed eyes as he hugged a little girl with brown hair and pricked, white-tipped dog ears closer to his side. Did that man do something to her?
Looking closer, she had a small scar running along the bridge of her nose. It stopped an inch from her right eye—which was milky white. I quickly turned my attention to the back of 582-899K's head instead.
Things like that didn't concern me. I wasn't a part of their pack or its leader.
Silently, we walked along the silver counter with polite smiles for the servers plastered firmly on our faces. They didn't smile back as they plopped multiple slices of pizza, cartons of wings and fries, and a glass of milk onto our plastic trays. As hybrids, we have a much higher metabolism and a more active lifestyle than humans. With a quiet thank you, we claimed a table in the middle.
"I don't think I'll ever get over the fact that the food looks edible." muttered Subject 582-899K as he smiled sullenly at a piece of garlic bread.
"What do you mean?" Subject 441-010R asked around a mouthful of fries. "Hasn't the food always been this good?"
Subject 582-899K shook his head with a wry laugh, "Not even close! Before you gen three-ers came along, we older hybrids always ate something called nutraloaf." He took another bite, not caring that he spat crumbs everywhere with each word. "Sure, it kept us healthy and gave us all the energy we needed for the day, but it tasted like dirt without being actual dirt."
"And how exactly do you know what dirt tastes like, K?" I asked with a playful grin. The only reply I got from him was a glare as he bit into his third slice of pizza.
He's probably thinking about the time I got him to eat a piece of a natural mud pie when I was two I thought with a giggle.
"At least that explains the mountain of wings you picked out," said Subject 754-092F, watching as my brother slowly created a mountain of bones. "How aren't they falling over?"
"Years of practice, kid," Subject 582-899K simply replied. "You'll understand the importance of making a neat pile of something when you're my age."
I heard Subject 550-806O snicker, "More like he'll understand what it means to be a glutton when he turns twelve. That's way more wings than last week! Are you sure you're a Greater Steppe Eagle and not a Hummingbird?"
"Ugh! I'll have you know that I'm still growing and need all the energy I can get to help with training!" my brother indignantly screeched. "Which, if you also didn't know, is quite draining!"
Subject 582-899K then began to sulk, which made us laugh.
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The main corridor leading to the west wing was devoid of any color and as quiet as a church mouse. It smelt faintly of paint, which meant it was recently remade to look white to cover someone's brave attempt at making it more lively.
Subjects 582-899K and 550-806O had parted from us five minutes ago since they were taking seventh and fourth-grade classes, respectively.
460-700M doesn't need to join us either since he's still in Kindergarten, I thought as I watched the young boy direct a fierce glare towards a female guard who'd been whispering angrily at the woman outside his classroom. Despite being shorter than the guard, she had an air about her that just screamed she'd wrap you up in the biggest, fuzziest blanket and feed you as many cookies as you'd like.
Looking closer, I could see Subject 460-700M's mouth go from a neutral line to an angry snarl. His eyes had changed too, going from a soft blue to a brilliant sapphire. In just a matter of seconds, the once aggressive guard's mouth snapped shut as anything she had left to say died in her throat.
"You need to calm down." Subject 460-700M huffed before passing both women without a second glance.