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banban felt like it was losing its mind.
it knew that it was created for one express purpose: to serve humans. and it did. it did so flawlessly, in fact. it did everything correctly, exactly as it was told, without complaining a bit. from the day that it was created to the day that the kindergarten began classes, it lived to serve humans. and it was absolutely exhausting. it woke up. it made sure everything ran smoothly for the day. it interacted with humans, making sure every interaction was perfect. it shut everything down. it returned to its room, that little gray box it was confined to every night. it slept. wash, rinse, repeat.
banban felt like it was losing its mind.
the same routine that it struggled with keeping up every day, for its peers, seemed effortless. they were so high energy and if they became tired of the same daily routines, they didn’t show it one bit. they seemed more animal than human, always upbeat. always alert. always alive. despite the life they all positively radiated, opila, josh, flynn, even banbalina, they all felt… off. delusional, maybe. insane, possibly. but they were all treated the same way it was. like an animal.
banban felt like it was losing its mind.
it felt normal. it felt entirely human. but one look in the mirror disproved all that. it had red fur, two long red horns covered by party hats. it was certainly not human. it felt like some kind of monster. something to be restrained and confined, to be frightened of, to be spoken to like it was a monster with shit for brains. and of course, as humans always did, they treated it how it looked: horrible. no human trusted it, not once they saw the way it looked.
banban felt like it was losing its mind.
humans came after hours on the elevator to view their green rooms, ogling through the glass like they were watching animals at the zoo. if it walked up to the glass to greet them, the humans cowered like it was a feral animal, bound to snap at any moment. that wasn’t how the children or parents during school hours treated it. not even the staff was that scared of it. it wasn’t right. but its peers did not see it that way. at any mention of the humans’ odd behavior, they brushed it off, even laughing at the mere notion that humans might be scared of them all.
banban felt like it was losing its mind.
at the end of every day, it returns to its room, a gray box with a concrete floor. it lays down in the fetal position, shuts its eyes tight, and tries to fall asleep. it feels humans watching from security cameras and doors, monitoring every breath it takes. perhaps minutes or hours go by, but sleep is never impossible if its eyes stay closed for long enough. but it knows these are not the conditions it deserves. it doesn’t want to live like this anymore. it hates this. but no one seems to find a problem with the way things are done. so it does nothing about it. it continues its monotonous routine. it woke up. it made sure everything ran smoothly for the day. it interacted with humans, making sure every interaction was perfect. it shut everything down. it returned to its room, that little gray box it was confined to every night. it slept.
wash, rinse, repeat.
banban felt like it was losing its mind.