Work Text:
Beyond the Eye's Gaze
“The eyes are the windows to the soul,” and now, for the second time, Neteyam could finally see again. He just needed to be free.
----
In his little room held electronic objects. In his little room held a door that mustn't be opened by anyone that was him. In his little room held him, Neteyam.
His little room wasn't much, didn't have much. It was white, like the lagoon surrounding his irises. His bed was white; the pillows were white, the walls were white, the floor was white. His heart rate was not white, just like his skin, hair, and blood.
It wasn't a complete void of boredom, his little room, for there was a portico, the Eye. The Eye's awning was wide. He loved to stare at it for hours, its beautiful structure. It fascinated him beyond end, like a sunken treasure yet to be found, hidden under the trenches of the sea and sky. This was something he could open, just as the scientists opened him. A whole new world to discover. This one, however, was not adorned with slimy organs and robust hearts.
Neteyam was very fond of the Eye. It never blinked, so it could never miss a fleeting second. It never blinked to make sure he wouldn't do it again. The scientists hadn't liked it when he stained his little white room red. It never blinked, so that he was always watched, just like the cameras nestled in the corners of his soundless little room.
Silence unless told to speak, of course. The Eye, one day, began to sing. It sang of lavish tales of the outside, the rolling hills, the crystallized skies, and the love and affection it held ever so dearly. Neteyam liked love and affection.
So, that one day when the Eye began to beguile him like a siren, Neteyam set sail. He was still getting used to his new body, wobbling with shorter legs and grasping things with an extra finger. His skin wasn't like the sky but like the rich, fertile soil the Eye described.
His little room no longer felt so little. His heartbeat accelerated in red mountains. But he didn't want to see artificial mountains. He wanted to see the real ones.
Sunlight began to tinge his small, alien figure. No, he was normal now. Neteyam wanted to hold the rays in the palm of his hand and never let go. The Eye was close.
Neteyam reached the silver lining, touching the Eye's glass water. His little room was white, but the Eye was clear. Crystal clear like the rushing waters he thirsted for. The song continued to play.
Neteyam opened the Eye, setting it free from its eternal gaze. Fresh air flowed through his skin, his pores, his hair. He gasped as whales above him elegantly swam through the clouds. Jellyfish-like creatures in all different colors pulsed, tendrils whipping playfully back and forth.
The song was louder than ever, a serene symphony of nature welcoming his presence. An intriguing sensation intoxicated his veins; Neteyam felt loved.
Love so tangible but out of reach. Just out of reach. The only thing stopping him was his little white room. A cage, his little white room was, Neteyam realized, as it had blocked the melody away for so long. A soft universe at the tip of his fingertips. The whales began leaping away; the jellyfish followed. Smaller and smaller they would be if he couldn’t reach them in time.
So Neteyam freed himself further. For a moment, he thought he saw the Eye blink. How foolish of him, he thought before pulling himself to the edge. His chest began tightening; the song momentarily paused.
The scenes were in sight: luscious trees, pristine flora, and fauna. Air couldn't get in his lungs fast enough, and he began to corrugate from the inside. The Eye blinked one time, two, ten, a hundred, thousands of times. As if on cue, the harmony began once more in its full glory.
With one final thought, Neteyam jumped, and he was in his little white room no longer. While his mind had become hazy and his throat started to burn, he could feel the adoration, the love he was promised.
He hit the ground; his heart had never felt so full.
----
“The kid went and got himself killed again.”
“How?”
“Fell a few stories down. Probably out his window.”
“Why the fuck would he do that?”
“How the hell am I supposed to know, Colonel?”
“You should've been watching him. He was important!”
“...So now what do you want me to do?”
Silence. A life regained again, teetering over the edge, a decision to revert to past mistakes or repeat itself.
“Bring him back.”
“Colonel, with all due respect, our funds have been a little tight recently.”
“I don't care. Bring him back, up the security.”
“Yessir.”