Archive of Our Own

Take a long walk through the dark

Turned the wrong way from the start

Secrets solved, the end not far

At all; the good is gone now

Shattered dreams, splintered screams

Playtime starts when someone bleeds

All signs say to keep away

Come and see

All of the broken things, <…> that hide

All of the broken things, puppets on hopeless strings

All of the broken things inside

– ...Pretty please, Doey!

The purple braid grabbed my ankle firmly. I sighed.

– Lily, I can't play with you all day long. I have a lot of other things to do.

I bent my leg, throwing my shin back, so that I could gently detach her hair from my skin... from the surface of my body, rather.

– Well, what do you have to do out there that can't wait another hour?!

Doll's hands clutched the hem of my T-shirt.

I bit my lip. Little girl, it's not that I need to be somewhere else, it's that I can't remain here. I've already stayed for too long.

We were literally standing in the doorway, which we shouldn't have done, but I was in a hurry.

I put one hand on Lily's shoulder and stroked her head with the other. I looked into her eyes and tried to appear as convincing as possible, so that it felt that I was talking to her seriously.

– Lily. That’s true, I have to go now, but I'll come back, okay? Same time tomorrow. I promise. I always come back, don’t I?

Lily looked at me with sad puppy dog eyes. But then, realizing that it wouldn't help her, she frowned and bit her lip.

– Pinky promise?

I laughed.

– Why not.

I clenched my fist, exposing only my little finger, as is customary, and extended my hand to Lily. She did the same – her plastic fist was literally half the size of mine – and we joined fingers, shaking our hands slightly.

It always amused me that in the toy world, such an oath was a legitimate way to seal a deal or prove one's honesty. Although it was difficult for those who did not have separate fingers or palms at all.

When we separated our fingers, Lily clapped her hands in satisfaction and giggled. My heart warmed up. Oh her naivety. Lily was the only toy I knew that truly preserved that of a child. What was especially sad was realizing that she was the only experiment in which the subject was not a child.

Supposedly the only one.

– Okay, see you later, Silly-Lily, – I smirked and pushed harder at the hidden door, near which, slightly ajar, we were standing.

Lily, of course, had long known about the existence of these doors. But not only did she not dare to go out, she was even afraid to look outside. I wonder if she even remembers what the factory looks like, apart from these few adjacent corridors.

– Bye-bye! – Lily actively waved goodbye, – I'll make tea for when you’re back! And-and I'll make crumpets!

I chuckled.

– I can't wait.

(The crumpets were made of plastic, by the way. But I've always pretended to eat them nonetheless.)

Finally closing the door, I sighed heavily. Phew. It wasn't the first time I'd be around Lily, but it didn't make it any easier to persuade her to let me go.

I just… I knew who this cute doll really was – or rather, who she used to be – I knew that perfectly well. And, probably, I should have hated her not only along with other toys, but even stronger than they do. Gracie Green and her Department of Well–being and Integration were what Sawyer called to replace me after he had to get rid of me. It is clear why he chose this woman: Miss Green did not even have the appropriate education, but she was just as indifferent to the subjects as Sawyer himself, and also knew her place and did not contradict the true geniuses. So she only had to quickly take a month-long course in psychology in some dubious company – and she was perfectly ready to work with children.

I never thought I was doing a great job here, but Miss Green has made their existence a living hell. It was as if instead of useless, but also harmless courses, she attended the "how to subjugate people" kind of trainings. Instead of attempts to keep the toys sane, even if pathetically, she chose to raze their personalities to the ground. She literally drove the children crazy just to get a nice picture for which the authorities would give her a pat on the back. And I will never stop feeling anger and contempt towards her for this: although I was not an active supporter of the Hour of Joy, sometimes it seemed to me that I would not be upset to learn that Miss Green was gone.

However, despite all of the above, I couldn't bring myself to hate Lily.

She doesn't even remember what she did. She does not understand why she is being punished, why she is shunned. Wasn't it enough for the Prototype to repay Miss Gracie in kind: to drive her crazy with the help of her own records? (Maybe that's cruel too, but over the years I've become too used to cruelty to be horrified by such a small thing as psychological torture out of revenge.) However, Lily was not just rejected by the toy society, she is practically kept in solitary confinement, her only social contact is with those who bring her food and water. But no one wants to do even that, so I volunteered. And... I started staying on the Sweet Street a little longer than necessary.

I sympathized with Lily for the same reason I hated her. She was like me. The only difference being I was lucky, and the scientists themselves took trouble of hiding my past away. Sometimes I looked at Lily and shuddered at the thought that the same fate awaited me if anyone found out the truth. Or maybe things would turn out even worse for me – I'd get three times worse punishment for betrayal, for pretending to be "one of them" for so long.

I looked around. There was no one in the hallway. I should leave before that changes. There's no need to go to this part of the labs except to see Lily, I'd look suspicious...

– Hmm, what an unexpected meeting.

I froze. Yes, I looked around, but I forgot to look up.

I slowly raised my head.

– ...Good day, – I managed. My voice became muffled from fright and the uncomfortable position of the neck and sounded pitiful.

The Prototype sat, positioned between several load-bearing beams and ventilation shafts, like an actual spider. However, after making sure that I noticed him, he began to step down to the floor, lowering his huge legs, which resembled the legs of a compass, one at a time.

– I wouldn't recommend you walking around here, – he drawled in a worried tone, – someone might see you and draw the wrong conclusions.

I took a couple of steps aside so that one of the Prototype's legs wouldn't pin me to the floor – because, obviously, he wasn't paying attention to where he was putting them. It was beneath his dignity.

– I-I just took food and water to Lily. It's my responsibility, – I said, trying my best to keep my voice even. Exposing my fright was unsafe – it would mean that I have something to be afraid of.

– This late? Not good, – the Prototype clicked his tongue (or rather, pulled this sound from the recordings: to make it yourself, you need to open your mouth slightly, but the Prototype's mouth could not open).

I allowed myself to relax a little. I guess I was too nervous: the Prototype arrived after I closed the door, and he didn't see anything truly compromising.…

– Yes, I'm sorry.… I was dealing with a conflict between two of the outimals, they fought over some trinket again... – I muttered, averting his gaze and making it up as I was going along.

This was, in fact, my main job in the new world built by the Prototype. Since I've taken care of other toys before, comforted and reconciled them, then why not continue on? I dealt with minor quarrels that did not pose a threat to the toy society in general and which the Prototype was not interested in getting into, considering them insignificant.

– Yes, yes, of course... – the Prototype nodded understandingly... but then his yellow eyes flashed brighter than usual, so that they completely illuminated the dark hollows around them, – But a little birdie told me that you entered the diorama three hours ago.

The Prototype leaned a little towards me, and I reflexively took a step back – but he swiftly put his leg behind me so that if I had taken even half a step more, I would certainly have stumbled.

Oh shit...

Okay, don't panic. Breathe. I can still talk myself out of it, right? It's someone else's word against mine.

– And who said that?.. – I asked cautiously.

– A reliable source, – the Prototype shook his head, – I was shown a recording of this, Doey. And the way you two have been having fun during these three hours.

Cameras. I clenched my teeth. Freaking Doctor.

Thin, long fingers wrapped around my head, lifting my face up, forcing me to look into the Prototipe's motionless face.

Shit, shit.

– You know why we don't go there, Doey. And that I don't give second warnings.

The Prototype pushed me hard, right by my head. I lost my balance and fell to the floor.

Shit, shit, shit.

– You do realize how bad that looks, don't you? – added the Prototype.

You can't be silent with him. He hates being left without an answer.

– Yes, yes. I do, – I muttered automatically, carefully stretching my neck, – It won't happen again.

Of course, I wasn't hurt, but that was a bit painful.… Only then did I realize what I had said.

It won't happen again. I'm going to have to break the promise I made to Lily.… But I can't do that! I swore! But... if I don't want bigger problems, I'll have to.

What do I value more: my own duty or my life?!

I couldn't answer. My chest felt tight and I couldn't breathe because of the very need to choose. Dots were swimming before my eyes.

I tried to remember what I used to teach the kids. Inhale: two, three, four, pause: two, three, four…

– Very well. I hope you heard me well, Mister Prayer.

The air was knocked out of my lungs without counting to four.

I haven't heard that name in years. And I thought I wouldn't hear it again. I was hoping not to.

– Wh-what? – I blurted out instead of some meaningful answer.

I slowly raised my head. The Prototype's motionless face expressed nothing, but I still hoped to find a clue in it.

The Prototype just shook his head, as if he was annoyed that I wasn't getting it.

The idea of playing dumb should have been discarded right away. He mentioned my last name, he obviously knows everything that he shouldn’t. Trying to evade the consequences will only annoy him.

– How?.. I blurted out.

Truly, how did he learn that? Sawyer wouldn't have left any traces, it could have worked against him, so no hidden documents. Unless…

– Someone confirmed my guesses... – the Prototype lazily turned his head away and thoughtlessly waved his long thin fingers around.

Well, that makes sense. Sawyer has nothing to be afraid of now. It is impossible to punish him more than our colleagues did. So why not let someone know? Since he was sure the shit would hit the fan for me as a result.

– Your appearance and behavior, the way the scientists treated you, it aroused suspicion, – the Prototype continued meanwhile, – And a few hours ago, while the toys were dismantling the barricades in the furthest corridors, two boys were found, who for some reason were kept separate from other experimental subjects of an early stage. You'll never guess their names.

The Prototype stopped looking at his hand and turned his head towards me, his unblinking eyes staring at me, demanding that I play along.

– What are their names? – I managed to say.

– Kevin Barnes and Matthew Hallard.

It felt as if being doused with ice water.

– I went to my good friend, Dr. Sawyer, for an explanation... – finished the Prototype, interlacing the fingers of both hands in front of himself, – And he, being the nice guy he is, told me everything.

The Prototype fell silent, as if waiting for an answer. But I didn't know what to say. To deny everything? To ask why he would trust the Doctor, our tormentor, more than me, a toy like himself? That would be stupid. I'm not smart enough to think this conversation through a hundred steps ahead, so I can't take any chances.

The Prototype snorted. Maybe he was upset that I didn't deny anything and didn't give him an opportunity to torture me enough, not sure.

– ...Who else knows? – I managed.

My heart was pounding in my ears, but I tried very hard to think straight. First of all, I had to assess the damage.

– It's just the three of us for now, – the Prototype crouched down and bent over so that his face was directly above mine (I was still sitting on the floor like an idiot), – But it's very easy to fix. An ex-employee is being soft with another ex-employee… Can you guess what awaits you?

I was startled. Yes, if someone finds out about everything at once… The fact that I'm supposedly sympathetic to Miss Gracie will only make my situation worse. It will no longer be just about expulsion from the toy society.

– ...I can imagine, – I nodded.

It's not that I knew the Prototype that well before the Hour of Joy, but lately I've learned well: like with any inadequate individual with a knife (or with needles for fingers), it's better not to contradict him. He likes it when everyone agrees with him, confirms that they understand everything, and he regards silence as disrespect.

– Good Doey.

The sharp tips of his claws patted my cheek, slightly digging into the plasticine. I reflexively closed my eye, afraid that it might get gouged out.

– Dismissed.

With that, the Prototype left my face alone and took a step back, giving me a chance to get up. I did just that, slowly, awkwardly – because of the fright I had experienced, my body did not obey me well.

– You can be rest assured, I won't release such valuable information for now... – the Prototype added matter-of-factly, while I was trying to get to my feet, – You've always been kind to toys and proved that you're on our side. I don't forget the kindness shown.

I clenched my teeth. Yeah, for sure. If he trusted me and believed in my integrity, he wouldn't have threatened to reveal my past at all. He would have pretended that Sawyer hadn't told him anything.

When I raised my head, the Prototype had already planted several of his legs against the wall, clearly ready to climb it and disappear into the darkness from which he emerged.

– But I'm not naive, – he continued, confirming my thoughts, – I know your kind. Even now, being one of us, you will find a way to harm the toys ... – the Prototype looked at me sideways, – In general, I strongly advise you to behave yourself, James.

My fists clenched. Human names have always been taboo among toys. Even those whose prototype toy had many copies simply came up with a new nickname for themselves, just to avoid hearing references to the past. I would like to think that I am above such trifles, but I had my own reasons for wanting to forget human life. And the Prototype seemed to be deliberately teasing me, provoking me, poking the dirty claws into an open wound, once again showing how great his power over me is now that he knows everything.

What I said afterwards… Later, I scolded myself with all possible harsh words, so incredibly stupid it was. But at that moment, my emotions got the better of me.

I slowly turned around, intending to just walk away, still trying to control myself. To accept that I can't do anything, not even snap back. To just calm down with an effort.

But the Prototype is not used to accepting the lack of an answer.

– Did you hear me? – he rasped.

And I couldn't stand it.

– Indeed. I’ll know now, Oliver.

For a moment, the silence around me was like nothing I'd ever heard before.

Before I could comprehend what I had blurted out, a severe pain shot through my lower back. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw how the Prototype's fingers, folded together, pierced through me and came out from my stomach. A scarlet stain spread across the white T-shirt like a poppy flower.

Maybe I screamed, I'm not sure. At that moment, it was as if I stopped seeing and hearing anything for a moment: more precisely, the feelings were probably still with me, I just couldn't remember anything because of the pain. As far as I know, the Prototype pulled his hand out of me and let me collapse to the floor.

– You don't dare, – he rumbled, – Ollie is dead.

More precisely, that's what I think he said, because the blood was rushing in my ears.

I flopped limply onto my stomach, unable even to lean on my hands. I could only think of one thing: hurts, hurts, hurts.

But... then, for some reason, the pain began to subside. At first I thought I was just losing consciousness, and I probably wouldn't come back to my senses. However, then I realized: no, that's not it, the pain is really going away. It slowly pulls back from the whole body to one point from where it started.

– ...Hmm, interesting, – the Prototype muttered from behind me.

The reminder of his presence made me rise abruptly, at least to my knees. Bad idea: the tearing pain seized my lower back again. Nevertheless, I looked at myself, though not without fear. However, there wasn't even anything visible from the outside, except for the bloody hole in the T-shirt, so I had to roll it up.

The bleeding hole in my stomach was closing right in front of my eyes. The edges converged, as if squished plasticine was restoring its shape.

I... had no idea that my body could do this, just because I had never received such large wounds before. When small pieces were cut from me as part of the experiments, these cuts always bled, and the doctors decided not to take any chances and not try to shoot me or anything like that. Apparently, Sawyer underestimated the success of his experiments on me. Yes, what I just went through was terrible, and I'm obviously going to have to lie down somewhere for a day, but I survived. I felt up my stomach in confusion, unable to believe it.

– Hm. Anyway… Maybe it's a little harder to hurt you than others, but I can still ruin your life if you give me a reason to doubt you. Don't forget that.

I shuddered and twisted my neck. The Prototype was still standing against the wall, as if nothing had happened, and only the viscous blood sticking to the fingers of one of his hands proved that it really happened, and he had just tried to kill me.

I couldn't fully feel the weight of that thought yet, but the one the toys call the savior, the god, he tried to kill me.

– ... And if necessary, I'll figure out how to hurt you for real, don’t you doubt that, – the Prototype added, after which he deftly grabbed my shoulder with a clean hand... and before I could twitch, he casually wiped his bloody fingers on my T-shirt.

Like, you got it dirty, you clean it up.

– See you soon, – he said, already bracing his legs against the wall again and, without waiting for an answer, quickly climbed up to the ceiling, from where he descended.

– ...See you later, – I replied to his absence.

The rustle of his footsteps slowly retreated and after a minute subsided. Nevertheless, I stood still for a while longer, slightly bent over (my lower back and insides still hurt, I hoped I would just have to wait for it to pass) and looking at the bloodstain on the floor that I had left. I... there were too many different thoughts in my head at the same time, I couldn't get it together. Finally, the sensible idea prevailed that I might still be caught near Sweet Street, so I hobbled towards my room the best I could.

***

It took longer than usual to get to the safe place. Probably because it was hard for me to walk: my insides still ached with any careless movement, besides, judging by that stain on the floor, I had lost quite a lot of blood. But still, I almost got to the former recycling center. However, there was a small surprise waiting for me in the boiler room.

I staggered along, staring at the floor, and didn't notice anything around me until a heavy plush hand landed on my shoulder. It was only at that moment that I turned around. Two large round dark eyes looked at me worriedly.

– Oh, hi, Chum, buddy, – I tried to make my smile look less forced, – Is something wrong?

Chum was a good pal of mine, although I think he kind of was for all the toys. He was always in plain sight, doing something, but I've never seen him spend a lot of time with someone in particular – and there were reasons for that. Firstly, it was rumored that many children were forced to interact with Chum at an early stage of the experiments, being put in his mouth, allegedly to calm them down (I still don't understand who decided that this was a good idea, so perverted its execution was). And secondly, it's hard to be friends with someone who can't say a word. Not everyone could read and write to communicate with notes, and it was inconvenient anyway, and although Chum himself knew sign language, he could not fully use it without separate fingers, and I doubt there was even one more experiment who would understand him. Well, maybe except for me: even before Chum became a toy, I learned a few basic gestures to be nice to him.

But although no one wanted to be close friends with Chum, everyone turned to him periodically because he could repair practically anything. A clock stopped? The light bulb in the only flashlight burned out? The last cup shattered? This guy could fix anything. I knew Chum before his transformation: even then he was playing with toy tools and building some mysterious structures out of napkins, toothpicks and glitter glue, and if he got his hands on something with batteries, he desperately tried to disassemble it and to understand how it works. And now I could only be happy for him. For having such an important skill that saved him from becoming an outcast.

I tried to be nice to Chum if I met him. Because I understood: he's a smart guy, he realizes that everyone just tolerate him so they can use him, and he's sad about it. Once he was just a tool for scientists, then he became one for the toys. Therefore, I tried to just be friendly with him and, if possible, did not ask Chum for anything – especially since I could handle most of the problems, which were a disaster for the children, on my own.

Chum grunted worriedly and pointed at my bloodstained clothes.

– Oh, that? Don't worry, it's nothing, – I sighed and adjusted my T-shirt in confusion, – But I'll probably have to look for new clothes…

Yes, that was a problem. This set, a T-shirt and knee-length shorts, was designed especially for me: it was made of some kind of durable fabric and fit my superhuman height, and I had no idea where to get another one like this. Throughout my life in the laboratory, I have never been given a new one: my body did not emit sweat or other fluids, and whatever the material was, it wore out extremely slowly.

– I'll probably have to steal a lab coat from someone, there's nothing else I can fit into, – I grinned.

Chum patted me sympathetically over where my T-shirt was torn (the bloodstain had long since dried).

– No, I'm really fine, pal, look, – I even lifted the cloth to show him. Indeed, not even a scar remained, except that the plasticine patterns had slightly changed their shape and were now swirling towards the healed wound.

Apparently, this calmed Chum down. However, he still pointed towards the exit of the boiler room, as if saying that we were going there.

– You'll walk me home, won't you? – I smiled.

Chum nodded. After all, he's very nice, and those who don't want to be friends with him lose a lot.

– Thanks, buddy.

We walked the rest of the way together in silence – I would have been just fine on my own, but I was pleased. We said goodbye at the entrance to my room.

– Well, see you later, pal, – I waved at him.

Chum waved back in silence, then turned around and was on his way. I squeezed through the manhole leading to my place.

My room was quite large and well-equipped: I put a couple of armchairs and a table in front of a window with a nice view of the cave, a kind of a psychologist's office; actually, that's the only reason no one else claimed this place – so that I could use the extra room to perform my duties. To have conversations here with those who behave badly (or who are treated badly). But besides that, there were other amenities: I had a desk, shelves with books and all sorts of small trinkets, there were several rugs on the floor, and there was even running water (I didn't really need showering, I had to wash things more often than myself). The only thing I needed to be completely happy was a bed: there just didn't seem to be any adult-size mattresses in the entire factory, even big toys like me had to huddle in children’s beds, so even though I had one of these, I preferred to sleep on the floor, on the carpets. But sometimes there were smaller toys to stay on this bed, including yet another temporary neighbor who was waiting for me at home now.

– I'm back, Giblet, – I announced, standing up to my full height and stretching carefully so as not to disturb the recent wound.

A lump of the crumped blanket on the bed stirred, and one bright pink eye peered out warily.

– ...Oh dingles, what happened, Doey?!

Giblet threw the blanket off his head and abruptly sat up – as fast as he could. I went over and settled on the edge of the bed next to him.

– Oh, just breaking up some fights. It's not my blood, don't worry, – just like with Chum, I lifted my T-shirt and showed that there was no wound under it, – How are you doing here?

– Better than in the morning, thank you, – Giblet scratched his head, – I'm sorry, I still don't know how to thank you…

– Come on, it's nothing, – I waved him off.

Giblet was turned inside out less than a week ago. I didn't know why exactly, he didn't want to tell me, but I decided it wasn't that important. Maybe Giblet really deserved it – the Prototype could be cruel, but he wouldn't waste his energy unnecessarily. Regardless, I couldn't leave this poor little guy in some corner where I accidentally found him: his stitches were bleeding, he was very hungry and weak: The Prototype obviously didn't give him time to recover, just threw him out of the operating room into the hallway and forgot.

My blood boiled when I realized that. But what could I do? Go teach the god of toys himself good manners? So I chose to just bring Giblet to my place and take care of him.

– No, it's no «nothing», – Giblet babbled, trying to get to his feet in order to look at least a little more imposing. The blanket draped from his shoulders like an overly long cloak, – I-I sleep on your bed, eat your food, you treat my stitches, and-and…

– Speaking of food, I think it's time we eat something, – I interrupted him, pointedly ignoring all that he said, – I'm going to wash this and then we’ll have dinner. You can stay in bed for now.

Giblet was obsessed with the idea that he owed me something for saving him. I didn't think so. Yes, I used precious medicines (by the standards of toys), and the supply of canned food ran out faster than I would have liked, but it was such a trifle. Who would leave this guy to die? And anyway, it was my decision, Giblet himself didn't ask me for anything.

Giblet seemed to want to say something else, but he just gasped for air. Obviously, even though it seemed stupid to him that I was wasting resources on him, he also wanted to eat. I grinned without malice and gently patted him on the head, then got up and went to the sink in the corner.

I took off my T-shirt and tried to wash it. For the most part, the blood hadn't even gotten worked into the fabric, but had simply dried into a crust, so there was still hope that the clothes would be saved. But, although the maroon stain quickly turned into a barely noticeable brownish one, the holes (two, on the front and on the back) only grew from how I bent and pulled the fabric. My clothes were already not in the best condition, worn and stained – apparently, their time has come. Finally, I sighed, admitting defeat, and wringing out the ruined T-shirt the best I could, and then I just pulled it back on. Well, I'll have to wear this one, not that I have a choice.

After that, I poured water into two cups and pulled out the bag in which I kept the canned food. Giblet, hearing the rustle of plastic, came over without further ado, still with a blanket on his shoulders, and with a little help from me he climbed onto one of the chairs. I opened a can of tomato soup with a knife, first for him, then for myself. I put a spoon in each can.

– Bon appetit, – I said, sitting down in the second chair.

Giblet mumbled something unintelligible: his mouth was already full.

We ate cold soup in silence (I had a lighter, but it would take forever to heat a can over it, if possible at all), both too hungry to chat while eating. Only the spoons clattered against our teeth. I called this meal "dinner," but it was more of a convention: I don't know how the scientists did it, but we didn't really need several meals a day, and the factory's resources were now limited, so I might as well have said that we were having breakfast now.

But after a couple of minutes, when we were already finishing our soup, I heard three loud knocks in the ventilation shaft. It was a sign that someone was asking for permission to enter from the recycling center.

I quickly poured the rest of the soup into my mouth and got to my feet. It could be something important, I could lick the can clean later.

– I'll be right back, – I said.

Giblet just nodded again. I walked across the room and climbed into the vent. A few meters up the shaft and I'll be outside.… Near the entrance, I saw familiar yellow paws and red plush fur.

– Chum! – I exclaimed, climbing out of the hole and getting up, – Long time no see, it's been ten minutes!

I said this without sarcasm or malice – Chum understood the joke and chuckled (it was more evident by the shake of his body than by the sound).

– Did something happen, or?..

I didn't have time to finish my question as Chum pulled some bag from behind his back, which he had probably been holding there all this time, and held it out in front of himself.

– ...Oh, is this for me? – I asked in surprise.

Chum nodded several times.

– Wow, thanks, pal.

I carefully took the package. It was a bag made of thick transparent plastic with a zipper, and inside it seemed to be some kind of folded cloth. There was a note inside the package on top of whatever this was. I had to turn the package a little so that the plastic wouldn't glare from the lamps on the ceiling and I could read anything. The label began with a large inscription: "Official suit for exp. 1322" and then in smaller letters: "Set contents: sleeveless T–shirt – 1, trousers – 1, vest..." – I did not read the entire label.

– Oh dear… Thank you very much, Chum! Where did you get this? – I clutched the bag gratefully.

Just to think, I won't have to wear a torn T-shirt! 

It was clear from Chum's eyes that he was pleased how happy I was with his gift. He thought for a short while and made a gesture as if hammering a nail.

– From the warehouse? – I asked.

He nodded.

I knew that the laboratory had a large warehouse with all sorts of necessary things: tools, stocks of disposable equipment, canned food, furniture assembly kits. But I would never have thought of looking for clothes there. Especially for one designed for me, as it actually was, judging by the label.

– Thanks again, buddy, I owe you one.

I held out my hand to Chum for a handshake. He waved me off, as if saying I didn't owe him anything, but he shook my hand anyway. And then he made several gestures: first he folded one hand so that it looked like an outstretched index finger, and moved his other hand above it, clenched into a fist, then showed an open palm, over which he moved his clenched fist in a circle. I knew this set of signs: it generally meant "to run out of time," but Chum obviously wanted to say that he had to go.

– Oh... well, see you later, pal. I'll go try these on then, – I winked at Chum and patted him on the shoulder.

Chum waved at me and waddled away again. He was always like this: he appeared quietly, awkwardly interacted with me for a minute, and just as quietly left for nowhere, as if he was embarrassed to impose his company on me for a long while. He was too used to being called only when he's needed. I've tried to let Chum know that I don't mind having him around at any time, but so far I don't seem to have made much progress.

I climbed back into the vent, clutching the bag of clothes to my chest. As I was getting back into the room, I almost put my hand right on Giblet, who had obviously finished his soup too and came over to listen to whoever it was that had come to us. (For this, he even left the blanket alone, which was left hanging off the chair.) He was generally very attentive to what was happening outside, although he usually preferred to hide under his beloved blanket and eavesdrop from a safe distance – his sensitive ears allowed him to do so.

– Did you hear that? – I showed him the package, – I complained to Chum that I had ruined my clothes, and he brought me a new set!

It was incredibly pleasant for me. I didn't expect anything in return when I helped other toys, but that doesn't mean I wasn't happy when that kindness returned to me. Yes, a new T–shirt is probably nothing much, but the fact that someone found it and brought it to me!

– Oh wow! – Giblet drawled, curiously examining the package, – Shall we open it?

– Of course.

I sat down on the carpet next to him and unzipped the bad. I took out the clothes and unfolded each item. They were all made of fabric very similar to the clothes I was wearing now, but light-blue in color. The package turned out to contain long pants (finally, I was tired of walking around in shorts like some little boy), a sleeveless T-shirt, and a vest with no buttons, but with a couple of pockets… And also, when I was unfolding all this, something fell to the floor with a clatter.

Giblet grabbed it first. Like many small toys, which were usually made out of the youngest children, he had a great passion for all sorts of unusual little things.

– Wow! – he exclaimed before showing this something to me.

It took me a moment to figure out what it was and why it was in the bag with clothes, but when I did, a stupid smile spread across my face.

It was a dark-blue plastic bowler hat. Like the one Doey the mascot would wear.

It was stupid, but I was as happy as a child. There was no point in wearing this hat, it was more funny than practical, but... In this new toy kingdom, where life is no sunshine and rainbows (no matter how much the Prototype would like to say otherwise), I learned to genuinely enjoy small follies.

– Try it on! – Giblet, who seemed equally enthusiastic, panted while climbing onto my knee. I bent down a little, and he stuck the hat on my head with a flourish. Lopsided, again, as in the advertisements – but it stuck to the plasticine and held up well enough.

– How do I look? – I proudly straightened up, putting my hands on my hips.

– Very cool! – Giblet nodded admiringly, – I was wondering why don't you have a hat like you should!

– Well, it would probably only get in the way in the labs, – I shrugged and began to get to my feet carefully, giving Giblet time to climb off me, – I'll go try it on all at once.

I went behind the shower curtain to change clothes (the "normal" toys lacked, ahem, reproductive organs, and therefore the fundamental need for clothes, but I sure had something to cover up). While I was doing this, I idly wondered why these pieces of clothing were sewn at all and why they were never given to me. Probably because they were less practical: short pants and a simple T–shirt left more of my body exposed, allowing to inject me or take a sample of the plasticine almost at any moment without undressing me, and the dirt was better visible on the white material – not to mention the vest and the hat, which were clearly just for the looks. The label in the package described this suit as "official": it probably meant that it was intended for some official events, maybe in case someone from the top management or investors wanted to see me.… In general, it didn't matter, the main thing was that now I could wear these things.

When I was done dressing, I looked in the small mirror over the sink next to me (I didn't have a full-length mirror, and why would I?) What I could see looked nice, but I noticed a few small holes on my cheek, as if someone had poked needles into me.… Although why "as if": they must have appeared when the Prototype touched my face.

My mood immediately soured. The memory of how I had almost died made it impossible to enjoy something as simple as new clothes anymore.

I grimaced, smoothing out the claw marks with my fingers (it's convenient to be covered in plasticine after all, can get rid of scratches at once). And most importantly... what did I almost give my life for? For the sake of teasing a creature who wouldn't leave a corpse to bury from me if he really wanted to? The only reason why the Prototype did not finish the job and did not start looking for a way to destroy me on the spot, but allowed me to live, was because he was just a little angry, and the physical pain seemed to be a sufficient punishment for my audacity, besides, it allowed him to blow off steam, and he was not interested in me any longer.

Actually, I guess if anyone currently alive had the right to call the Prototype by his human name, it was me. I... knew Ollie. A little. We lived in Playcare at the same time – before Eliot Ludwig adopted him, but I haven't seen or heard from Ollie since. We weren't close, but I would say that Ollie didn't have many friends in general: he wasn't a mean kid, but he was very introverted, usually just quietly holed up in corners and played alone, I recall that he loved puzzles and often fidgeted with a Rubik's cube. I sometimes tried to establish contact with him: it seemed to me that he was sad alone, I wanted to help. However, I soon realized that the fact that Ollie was always alone was his fault, not the other children's. Although Ollie didn't show much hostility when trying to communicate, and anyway, he came up with very interesting games and could be funny, he had one unpleasant trait. In the games he invented, everyone usually had a certain role, and if someone didn't play the way he intended or "didn't put enough effort in", Ollie would defiantly take offense and would try his best not to interact with that child anymore. I remember saying that he should be more forgiving if he wanted to make friends, to which Ollie crossed his arms over his chest and replied that he didn't need friends he didn't like, it was better to be alone then. After that, he was reluctant to talk to me either, and I stopped bothering him, deciding that since Ollie didn't want to, there was no reason imposing good on him. It probably had something to do with his life before the orphanage, I don't know.

But I never would have thought that this calm, quiet child, albeit with quirks, would turn into a ruthless killing machine in a few years.

However, I'm pretty sure that was the scientists’ fault: The Prototype got into the hands of the company's executives even before I returned to Playtime. But even when I was hired, the Prototype was an experiment that I was practically not allowed to interact with. Moreover, the decisions about the experiments on him did not even pass through me: I raised this issue many times, but they just shoved my contract in my face, where it was written in black and white that experiments one thousand six and one thousand seven and everything related to them were not within my area of responsibility. A couple of times, however, I was given permission to talk to the Prototype, although in the papers I was categorized not as a specialist, but as an experimental subject: they would let me into the camera and look at the reaction of one thousand six. We had quite deep and philosophical conversations about feelings and human psyche, but the Prototype always evaded answering when I asked about something that was about him personally. Questions like "how do you feel about this?" always remained unresponded – I soon realized this and stopped insisting on being allowed to see him, because I did not know how to help someone who consciously resists it. Regardless, the Prototype seemed to remember me, although he probably didn't realize that we had known each other even earlier before. Or maybe he just didn't care. Anyway, even the fact that he remembered me as a good person didn't stop the Prototype from threatening to ruin my life for the slightest disobedience.

I clenched my teeth. The Prototype seems to have remained a child, petty and irresponsible – he was one twenty years ago, but he never really grew up. Maybe the scientists were partly to blame for this, but this did not liberate the Prototype from responsibility for his behavior in the present. Now the entire factory has become his playground, and hundreds of experiments were his playmates, but the "selection criteria" have remained the same. And the Prototype still didn't want to listen to anyone who wanted to change this system, only now he had more serious leverage at its disposal than a simple boycott.

This was followed by the question: should I let this overgrown child determine my decisions? According to sound logic – no way. Of course, it would be foolish to voluntarily stick my head in the press and see what happens. I won't openly defy orders, so I guess I'll have to break the promise I made.… But is there anything I can do to soften the blow? Is there anything I can do to prevent Lily from feeling that much hurt?..

The gears in my head started spinning.

– Hey, Doey, did you go down the drain there? – was heard from outside.

I chuckled. Yes, probably I was thinking too much. I'll have time to resolve this issue before tomorrow, but in the meantime, I can take my mind off it.

– No, no, I'm here, – I grinned and pulled back the shower curtain.

***

I slowly inhaled and exhaled, gathering my willpower. I was about to have a difficult conversation.

I haven't figured out how to get around the Prototype's order without getting into more trouble, which means I'll have to explain to Lily why I can't spend time with her anymore. And I couldn't tell her the real reason, or even let her know what happened yesterday.

By all rights, I realized how close I was to death much later than someone who has never been in such a situation might assume. The realization hit me only at bedtime when I tried to fall asleep. I didn't get any rest that night. On the other hand, while lying awake, I figured out what to do with Lily. At least that new idea was better than just saying "sorry, I won't play with you anymore" and walking away.

I decided that it was enough trying to put it off – it's impossible to do that forever – so I finally pushed open the door leading to Sweet Street.

Immediately, all three purple braids dashed out into of the gap and grabbed my arms, pulling me inside.

– Wheee! You're back, you're back!

Lily was hopping about on one leg. She always greeted me with such delight, as if we hadn't seen each other in a month. Such a pity I could make her happy like this for one last time…

– Whoa, whoa, take it easy, – I smirked and handed her a plastic bag, – Here's your food, as usual.

It was always the same set: two bottles of water and a couple of sweets or snacks, something in a package that Lily could open without sharp objects. Well, at least I wasn't forbidden to bring her food at all. Because someone else in my place would most likely not bother with anything more valuable than raw meat from the Charnel Pit. And Lily wouldn't even know where it came from.

I tried very hard not to even approach this place. Couldn't stand the smell.

Lily took the package from me and hung it on one of her braids – because she needed her hands free so she could hang around my neck.

– Well, shall we go?! The crumpets are probably ready by now, you're late!

I bit my lip. Well, here we go.

– Lily... – I gently grabbed her hands and unhooked them from myself, lowering her to the floor, – I'm sorry, but I can't stay with you today, – I thought about it and decided to tell her everything at once, – I can't do it anymore.. at all. Not tomorrow either. Sorry.

Lily's face fell instantly. 

I sighed. "Why does she need to complicate things?" – I thought, although this question was very stupid.

– Well, that's just how things are now… There are a lot of new things I have do, and I can't stay here for long.

Of course, I wasn't going to tell her the truth.

– But-but you promised! – Lily bent her eyebrows pitifully.

– I promised that I would come today, but I didn't promise that we would play, – I sighed. I didn't like that I had to resort to such a trick, bypassing my own words.

Lily's lips trembled.

– But, but!..

– ...But I brought you a present! – I hurried to interrupt before she would burst into tears, – So that... you wouldn't feel so sad without me.

I took off a children's drawstring backpack – the kind you use for sportswear or a change of shoes – and opened it. Lily still looked very upset, but it seemed that she was interested in this something that I brought her, and the tears were put on halt.

I squatted down to be about the same height as Lily, and poured out several toys from my backpack – inanimate ones, of course. The usual ones that all children play with. Baby Long Legs, a Dusky the doll and a Bobby Bearhug. I chose them because it seemed to me that they would fit Lily best in size: big enough to play out tea parties at her table, but small enough to be carried comfortably around the house. Perhaps I should have looked for dolls that could be dressed up, or even small copies of Lily herself, but I didn't have much time: Catnap doesn't like anyone but Smiling Critters wandering around Playcare, and he certainly wouldn't let me take anything from there. That's for sure, cats are territorial animals.

Lily also sat down and curiously picked up Dusky. There were no inanimate toys in the diorama. I probably should have thought about it earlier, then Lily wouldn't have been so bored while alone…

– Is this for me?.. – her face expressed pure childish delight.

– Of course these are for you, – I smirked and stroked Lily's head, – They can't talk, of course, but they'll listen to you very carefully. You can also host tea parties with them and play hide-and-seek, or ride along Sweet Street in the ice cream van, although you'll have to learn to drive yourself, but I think you're already a big girl, you can handle it, can you?

Lily giggled and pressed the doll to her chest – but then she sighed sadly anyway.

– But it won't be like with you.…

– That's true. But it's better than nothing, right? – I put my hand on Lily's shoulder, – Besides, they'll, uh, remind you of me. What do you say?

I got distracted for a second and got into my backpack because one of the toys was stuck there due to its size.

– ...And here, – I added, putting a Candy Cat on the plastic grass.

At this time, Lily stretched out her arms in front of herself, as if she had looked at the Dusky doll anew.

– ...Her head is red like yours, – she suddenly said and giggled.

I was confused for a second, but then I realized what she meant. The distribution of colors on my skin did not quite match Doey the mascot: every time after operations, injuries, or when I simply changed my form, the splotches seemed to shift a little; so a large orange smudge appeared on the left side of my head, and over time it only grew, displacing the blue background. And Dusky, well, she had red (orange, so to say) hair.

I smirked as well.

– That's right, – I said. My gaze settled on the other toys lying between us, – Hmm, now would you look here…

I started putting the toys side by side.

– Baby is yellow, this one is blue, and Bobby’s fur is red.

Of course, I didn't do it on purpose, but the toys truly mirrored my color palette. Lily laughed and covered her mouth with her hands.

– Tee-hee, that's right!

After that, she scooped up all four toys and hugged them, swaying slightly from side to side.

I sighed. I... loved seeing other toys this happy. It happened so rarely, but that only made me more appreciative of the moments when I was able to bring joy to these children, even if for a little while.

However, I couldn't enjoy this moment. The clock was ticking in my head. Can't, can't stay for too long. Who knows, maybe I'm being watched again?! I had to ruin this moment.

I forced myself to get slowly to my feet.

– Well, okay… You play here, and I have to go now.

Lily's mood changed in an instant. She forgot the toys, dropping them to the floor, and looked up at me in fright.

– No!

The end of her braid grabbed my hand, which was reaching out to the door.

For a moment, I was even confused – because I didn't want to leave myself, and although I forced myself, this reluctance remained inside.

– No, no, no! Please stay!

Lily pulled me away from the door.

– Lily, we agreed to that... – I began, carefully trying to detach the end of the braid from myself.

But Lily wasn't listening.

– Why don't you want to play with me anymore? – she screamed, – Why doesn't anyone want to play with me?!

My heart ached. Why do I have to do this to her?! Why would someone think that I should treat anyone like that?..

– No, Lily, I want to, it's just... – I objected listlessly, unable to think of any reason why I really had to leave.

– ...Was I a bad toy?

Lily's voice faltered.

I couldn't turn a deaf ear to that.

At that moment, I hesitated. It wasn't too late to act according to my conscience.

– No, no, Lily, you're not bad, it's okay.…

I turned to her and took her face in my hands. Lily squeezed her eyes shut and began to whimper loudly, and I felt all her braids entwine me, as if they were tying me up.

– Then why don't you like me anymore?..

I shook my head.

– Nonsense, of course I like you. If I didn't care, I wouldn't have come today, would I? Would have just disappeared and wouldn't have explained anything to you, let alone have brought you toys, right?

Lily gulped loudly for air.

– Right… Probably…

– There are just circumstances that are stronger than us, you know? – I sighed.

I couldn't make up my mind. I couldn't neither push her away nor stay with her. It felt terrible.

Lily buried her face in my stomach.

– What's that important going on outside?.. – She whimpered plaintively.

I sighed again.

My nightmare, that’s what might be outside.

– I have a lot of things to do. There are other toys waiting for me.…

I stroked the back of Lily's head. Poor little thing… How could the others treat this gentle creature with such hatred just because of her past? They probably just didn't bother to get to know Lily better and realize that no matter what happened before, she's not that same monster anymore…

But the grip of the hair on me suddenly tightened.

– ...But no one can blame you for not coming if I don't let you go, – Lily said slowly.

I was taken aback and reflexively tried to disentangle myself, to move back, but the braids only tightened around me.

Something that had been aching deep inside my body since yesterday exploded with pain.

– You're going to stay here and play with me! Every day, forever! – Lily screamed and tried, I think, to lift me up.

However, I can't say that she did well, instead she just lifted herself off the floor (not surprising, I weighed at least eight times more).

– Lily! Let go, you can't do that! – at that moment, I couldn't think of anything smarter to say.

I was scared, and all moral dilemmas immediately vanished from my head – just like that. I was too busy trying to free my arms. Fortunately, I could just make them a little thinner on my will and partially slip out of her grip.

– I won't let you leave me! – Lily shouted instead of answering.

Those words hurt me, but at that moment I could no longer sympathize with Lily: the physical pain triggered my "fight or flight" mode, I was tied up, and I did not think about who it was and what drives this creature, I needed to free myself.

I reached out and opened the door: Lily's braids were still tangled around me, and she didn't have time to stop me. I took a few steps back to find myself in the hallway.…

– I'm so sorry, Lily!

... and abruptly slammed the door. The braids were trapped between the doors, and I think I even heard a bone crunch. Lily screamed loudly, but the grip immediately loosened. The braids released me. I opened the door for a couple of inches, and the hair pulled back within a moment. A loud, almost hysterical cry came from inside, it was unclear whether from pain or resentment.

It hurt me. Why am I doing this?! Why am I causing someone so much suffering?!

I froze, not daring to go back in, but also not closing the door. I struggled with my conscience for a couple of seconds. But then…

– Ah-ah.

I jerked my head up so abruptly that it hurt my shoulders.

The Prototype was sitting, as before, under the ceiling. His fixed smile seemed mocking, and he was wagging a warning finger. «Remember what's at stake» kind of wag.

And I closed the door.

I was scared. I got cold feet. I will never stop berating myself for this decision, but I will probably never stop looking for excuses for myself either. Yes, I couldn't help Lily, but I could aid so many other toys because I was alive and they were able to trust me.…

It will always sound pathetic.

– Good Doey.

The Prototype spoke barely audibly, but I jerked at his words like from a slap in the face.

After that, judging by the sounds, the Prototype crawled away – I lowered my head and did not see. He didn't even stay to make sure I wouldn't change my mind. The Prototype knew that it had won.

I... it turned out even worse than I imagined. And I behaved like a complete jerk. But could I fix anything? No. Even if I came back in now, it would be too late: I've already hurt Lily, there's no way to take it back.

I leaned against the door. The desperate crying could still be heard from the other side. I stood there and listened attentively, as if punishing myself, as if saying «look what you've done».

I didn't understand how I ended up here. At what point did I lose the remnants of humanity and become the same scared child as everyone here.

I've never been a hero. And Playtime only strengthened these neural circuits, breaking me every day: every day they forced me to commit small, but crimes against children whom I so much wanted to protect before, thinking that I could do it. Every day I signed papers about new experiments and told myself: this is not the worst thing that can happen, it can be allowed, then they will listen to me if I actually say "no" one day. If I shout "wolf!" too often, no one will listen to me when the wolf really comes. Therefore, you can not raise a fuss over trifles. And with all these precautions, I didn't notice how I just turned into a spineless excuse of a man. How "keep quiet and endure" became the default option.

And when I finally dared to raise my voice, I was silenced for good.

I clenched my fists. I wanted to punch myself, hard, painful, so that my already aching insides would remind me of themselves for a longer time.

...But that was the moment when I realized that my thoughts were going somewhere wrong. I needed to... I need to distract myself. You can't undo what you've done, you just have to not think about it.…

It reminded me of my work days before I became a toy. When, after each therapy session, I walked out hating myself, no matter how that session went.

I sighed, forcing myself away from the door. I need to smoke. Yes, absolutely… It always helped. To be alone in a calm environment, to breathe slowly… It's a good thing that my new vest has pockets where I can put a couple of cigarettes and a lighter.

I walked away slowly, forbidding myself to listen to the screams behind the door I was leaving behind.

***

– Well, so… What have you decided, Doey?

I shook my head, coming to my senses. The memories have consumed me too much. That story… It really influenced me a lot.

I'll never forget what the Prototype made me do. What I did because I was scared of him.

Poppy was sitting on a stack of books that we had placed on the armchair so that I could see her at all, and she was looking at me expectantly, restlessly crumpling the hem of her dress. It was as if her whole life depended on my decision now.

When there was no response, she added:

– I'm sorry. I can't force you if you don't want to, just… I knew you weren't going to snitch on us.

That was true. To make the toys more willing to come to me for help, I always repeated that everything that is said in my room stays there.

I frowned and exhaled.

– ...yes. Yes, you can arrange the resistance meetings... here.

And Poppy decided to use my code of honor to ask for permission to gather members of some kind of anti-Prototype rebel group in this room. Also, this place was perfect because the only way to get here was through ventilation shafts, and the Prototype himself couldn't have done it even if it really wanted to.

I didn't like the whole idea, I really didn't. I was sure that these rebels (this word even sounded too serious for them) would not end well. But knowing Poppy, if I refused her, she would still gather her friends, just somewhere where they could be caught at any moment – so I didn't even try to talk her out of it altogether.

Poppy breathed a sigh of relief.

– Oh, Doey… You can't imagine how much this means to us!

Poppy climbed from her stack of books to the table to come up to me and enthusiastically shake my hand (although considering the size difference, she just grabbed my finger with two hands).

– I owe you a lot!

I chuckled.

– Come on, there's nothing to talk about. I have... my own reasons for not liking the Prototype.

Because he wants to control our every breath. And because if someone doesn't breathe on command, the Prototype will throw a tantrum, like a child he is – not too worthy for the ruler of the toy kingdom. And the consequences of the emotional instability of a six-meter spider-like robot with an interest in punitive surgery are much scarier than those of an introverted orphanage boy. "Not liking" sounds silly in this context, but I've never been a fan of the word "to hate", it always seemed too... radical to me.

– Go and tell your friends the news, – I grinned and gently picked Poppy up in my palm to help her to the floor.

– On my way! – she nodded her big head vigorously.

I stayed in my chair, watching Poppy as she trotted towards the exit.

– Bye! We'll come tomorrow at three! – she said, already getting into the ventilation.

– Agreed. Just come in, I can be at Lily's at that time, – I replied.

I didn't stay on Sweet Street for long anymore, but I still took food there. However, Lily didn't come out to meet me anymore. I usually didn't see or hear her at all. I just left a bag of food at the door and shamefacedly left.

It was quiet for half a minute, the only sound was the clatter of porcelain feet in the ventilation. Then Poppy got out, had a few words with someone (it must have been the bigger body, Kissy, whom she often was seen with), and they seemed to leave.

It was very quiet for a few more seconds. But then…

– Doey?..

I sighed. A minute ago, I heard Giblet entering through the other entrance, behind the shelfs, but I did not indicate his presence: Poppy might have been scared that we had been overheard. In her dangerous business, even one extra listener is the end of the world.

– Yes, you got it right.

There was a panting sound, and Giblet ran out from behind the shelfs (his long ears fluttering comically behind him) and jumped up to me. I bent down again and reached out to pull him onto my lap.

It's been a few months since I found Giblet, and he has already fully recovered, but for some reason he has still been staying with me. It seems that he was trying to figure out a way to repay me and was not going to leave until he did – no matter how many times I told him that he owed me nothing and should not take the responsibility for my decision. Giblet would run around for days anyway, and then food, medicine, and sometimes homemade weapons or some small trinkets for decoration would regularly appear in our room. It was a nice bonus, but I didn't mind the company anyway, and I was used to Giblet being around, we got along well. To be honest, I was even embarrassed that he was trying to share everything he found with me – after all, I had somehow provided for myself before, and anyway: Giblet is a child, and I am an adult, and I am physically bigger and stronger. But I couldn't openly talk to him about it, of course.

Giblet looked at my face worriedly.

– Are you... really going to let these guys in here?

I nodded.

– I will. Does that bother you?

Yes, it was my room, but Giblet lived here too – his opinion should be taken into account.

– You bet! – Giblet indignantly crossed his arms over his chest, – You're the boss here, and all that, but I… It's dangerous! What if they get caught?! You do realize that you're going to get in a lot of trouble, don't you?! Well, and I do as well…

I sighed and hugged him – literally just wrapped my hand around him. Of course, I understood everything.

– ...Are you scared?

Giblet said nothing, just opened and closed his mouth. He looked offended. Of course, like any child, he wanted to argue with me: to say «no, I am not scared» – but he knew I was right, and he couldn't object.

– It's okay, pal, me too, – I patted him gently on the shoulder, – We, I got myself in a dangerous mess, and I can't promise you that everything will be fine.

– Then... why? – Giblet asked, confused.

I sighed. I didn't fully understand why I was getting into trouble myself. Life has taught me that it's better not to get involved in something that doesn't affect you personally. The last time I tried to restore justice, I was turned into eight hundred pounds of plasticine. And now, for some reason, I'm rushing to save everyone again.

– ...You know, even if you're afraid, it's important to do what you can, – I sighed, – We're not going to start a riot ourselves, of course. I'm not ready, I'm scared. But I will help those who are not afraid as much as I can. The toy society... needs a shake-up, I think. Who knows, maybe Poppy will really achieve something. But if I refused, her idea would certainly fail, one hundred percent. Do you understand?

That's it. I didn't realize it myself until I had to formulate this thought for someone else.

Giblet looked thoughtfully at his inside-out hand. Of course, somewhere deep inside he agreed with me: The Prototype is not the best leader, and Giblet felt his methods much more keenly than I did myself. But I wasn't going to force him to say it.…

– ...Then I'm with you, – Giblet said decisively and grabbed my vest, looking into my eyes, I... Let’s be scared together?

I chuckled. He's a very nice kid after all.

– ...Let’s be scared together, – I agreed and stroked his head.

...At that time, I had no idea how this story would end. I couldn't even imagine that I would soon stop being a silent listener at rebel meetings, that I would really begin to see Poppy's ideas as a way out. That I would find a family among her followers, big and small. And if someone had told me that in ten years it would be me who would be fighting the Prototype heads-on, defending what was left of this family, I would have advised this someone to go have some rest before he sputtered more nonsence.

***

Disconnected little souls

Toys detested and disowned

Hugs that never feel like home

At all; grow cold as good as gone now

Shattered dreams, splintered screams

Playtime starts when someone bleeds

All signs say to keep away

Come and see

All of the broken things, <…> that hide

All of the broken things, puppets on hopeless strings

All of the broken things inside

It’s all just good, clean, fun, if you

Hide the bodies and run, but these

Still undead memories; in the toy chest bleed

Broken things