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When Nine is seven, he wakes up.
He wakes up in a white room with cold walls. It feels like something is missing, something important, but he can’t think what it is.
There are windows in the white room, and beyond those a gray city speckled with golden lights. Nine stands at the window for a long time, watching the pretty lights and wondering where he is, and why.
I’m Nine. He knows that. But he doesn’t know anything else.
They bring another little boy to the lab a few weeks later, and for the first time since he woke up, Nine experiences novelty. For the first time, something is different. Something exists that doesn’t slot neatly into the daily routine of experiments and boredom, and Nine doesn’t know what to think.
He spends a lot of time sitting in the other boy’s room, waiting for him to wake up. Wondering if maybe, the other boy is like him.
Nine has almost given up on hoping that the other little boy will wake up, when he does. Nine opens the door to the other boy’s room, expecting to find nothing but silence and soft, shallow breaths, and instead finds the other boy kneeling on the bed and staring at his gloved hands.
Nine’s eyes widen, and his voice squeaks with excitement as he gasps, “Hey, you’re awake!”
The other boy’s eyes snap upwards, locking onto Nine’s face, and the other boy tenses. He looks…not scared. That’s not the word. Nine wants to frown, because he knows that there’s a good word for this, but he doesn’t want to seem angry. So he smiles, instead.
“I was wondering if you’d ever get up,” Nine says, smiling wide. “It’s been days since they brought you here!”
Nerbus, that’s the word. He heard one of the scientists use it once. It’s a good word. A grown-up word. It means scared, but not quite. Unhappy, but not really, ‘cause the thing that’s making you feel bad will be gone soon.
Nine is nerbus when he has to get poked. Maybe the other boy thinks he’s going to be poked?
“Nine?” the other boy asks, and Nine cocks his head, puzzled.
“Oh!” Nine says. “Have we met before?”
Have they met before? Nine doesn’t remember. He’s Nine, and that’s all he knows.
“Who are you?” Nine asks curiously.
The other boy’s face does something weird, and Nine feels an unhappy twist in his belly. The other boy is sad, and Nine doesn’t like it when people are sad.
“…You don’t remember who I am?” the other boy asks, sounding really nerbus.
“No?” Nine says, ‘cause he doesn’t.
Should he?
“Did we meet before?”
Did they?
“You really don’t know?” the other boy cries, lurching forward. His hands are knotted in the blankets, twisting them into funny shapes. “But you – ”
He cuts himself off, his mouth half-open like he wants to say something, but can’t – or won’t.
Nine looks at the other boy curiously, waiting for him to finish. “What’s wrong?” The other boy looks so nerbus, and Nine wonders if he can help.
“Um…” The other boy bites his lip, eyes falling. “It’s nothing.”
“You sure?” Nine takes a step closer, bouncing a little. “Maybe we really did meet before!” He wouldn’t know; he’s Nine, and that’s all he knows.
“I don’t really remember anything from before I woke up here,” Nine admits. “Maybe it’s all those weird tests they did!”
He feels proud of himself for thinking of a solshun to the mystery of why he doesn’t remember, just like the scientists do. They’re always thinking of solshuns, so clearly it’s something grown-ups gotta do lots and lots.
“Tests?” the other boy yelps. “What did they do to you? Did they hurt you?” He doesn’t sound nerbus anymore; now he sounds angry…and afraid.
“No!” Nine says, his tongue stumbling over the words as he hastens to reassure the other boy. “They just had me try to move a bunch of stuff like fire and water! But it didn’t work.” Nine lifts his hands, showing the other boy his own gloves. “They said it’s because of these ‘protein’ things.”
Protein was the word the scientists used, right?
“Pr – protein?” The other boy’s face does something funny again. “You mean prototype?”
“Yeah, that!” Nine says.
He was close. He’ll be a grown-up in no time.
“Apparently, it’s for our own safety,” Nine says, shrugging. He’s not sure why the scientists are so set on safety, ‘cause honestly it sounds kinda boring, and the proto – proto – protowhatsits get kinda itchy sometimes. “Anyway,” he says, deciding to shelve the hard word for a later date, “I’m glad you’re awake! What’s your name, by the way?”
“Atlas…”
“Atlas!” Nine says, and the word feels nice. “That’s a cool name!” He grins at the other boy, his best grin. “I hope we can be good friends!”
The other boy nods, and Nine grins even wider.