Chapter Text
It's been two years since the quarantine over the Rings was lifted, and efforts are being made to try to repopulate the region. Quite a difficult task, given that most scientists have been working with a completely inhospitable wasteland devoid of natural resources, and a lack of trained professionals— given the loss of any and all researchers native to the Rings, including its head researcher.
Of course, the other regions have also suffered with the quarantine, multiple objects lost loved ones, close friends, and even Paradise lost its head researcher.
However, there was one thing all researchers have been having trouble with, aside from the re-population project, and that is cataloging what exactly happened during the quarantine period, since when the researchers arrived in the region it had already fallen silent time ago.
In Outer Ring, silence coated every street, like an ever expanding blanket, it was populated only by razor packs and other "wild objects" that either had no knowledge of a quarantine that had happened— or much less what the word meant— and others who showed no interest complying with the researchers. The only thing that was even possible to catalogue was that Warhammer, the previous lawless king of The Rings, had fallen; however, the one who rose in his place also refused compliance with scientific expedition teams, same with her consort who relayed that, despite personally wanting to comply, would honor the new king's choice.
In Middle Ring, while there was also not a single object walking the streets, it was still in somewhat of a livable condition. As such, the expedition teams decided that the region proved adequate for setting up base, and starting the re-population project. Some brought their families to live in the— now abandoned— ring while others decided to try and restart their own businesses; one such case was "Sunrise Hall Orphanage", which reopened their Middle Ring location, that had been left decrepit and dilapidated since the quarantine.
In Center Ring, however, the situation was much more dire; there were no survivors. Try as they might, the expedition team could not find a single living object, let alone remains that could be used to respawn one. The roads were barren, the flora was lifeless and the fauna non-existent, only the buildings remained still— even if some of them were clearly missing.
All of these are the main reasons as to why cataloging the events of the quarantine has been a challenge to the expedition teams.
Now. Some questions I'm sure are swimming around in the heads of those reading this include "who even are you?" and "what do you have to do with all of this?"
Well, to put it simply, I'm Dr. Caroline Wax— or just Crayon—, I'm a psychiatrist, psychologist and neurologist from Dusty Stacks. I was contacted by the aforementioned expedition team, in collaboration with "Sunrise Hall Orphanage", to come to Middle Ring to work with them on something that they allege is a possible breakthrough in their cataloging endeavors.
You see, I wasn't entirely truthful when I said that there were "no survivors", the expedition teams did find one survivor. A single 9 year old girl. According to the terminal databases, the girl was the daughter of a polycule, both her dads being deceased with no way of recovery and her mother was last seen at Fort Blanket, in Silent Neverland, before the quarantine period started, but has been MIA ever since.
The orphan— now identified as Sugarcube— was quickly transferred to Sunrise Hall's Middle Ring location, in an effort to give her a place to live now that her parents are deceased, as well as try to get relevant information relating to the quarantine period, since she is the only survivor available for questioning. However, ever since prior to arriving at the orphanage, the girl has not said a single word and no amount of caretakers could get her to talk.
Because of that, I was asked to try and help, given my background in working with children and criminal questioning— yes that was their actual reasoning, I hope they're not expecting me to use criminal interrogation tactics on a 11 year old.
The orphanage has given me a file on young Sugarcube, describing all of her mannerisms, including:
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A fascination with art (although the caretakers have described her drawings as "incomprehensible scribbles");
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Resistance to interact with any bug bestial, as well as overall disgust regarding bugs and insects in general (a possible case of entomophobia);
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Slight uneasiness when near glass objects;
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Some sort of fascination with plants (caretakers have found her at the orphanage's garden staring at the plants for "hours on end");
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An aversion to loud noises;
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And what the caretakers have described as "a habit of staring at shadows" (which I have yet to understand what they mean. Do they mean she's afraid of them?)
Slightly confusing— and somewhat concerning— list of mannerisms aside, my job is, in theory, pretty simple.
Get this girl to talk. I am not allowed to leave Middle Ring until. She. Talks.
I will be taking notes of everything that happens daily, and write up a weekly report each Saturday.
Whatever knowledge this little girl holds… Is imperative for the furthering of the scientific and medical fields in all regions.
She has to talk.
Day 1
It was around the end of the afternoon, and the sun was setting over an almost deserted town in Middle Ring. A blue crayon hominid approaches the entrance of an old— and kind of ruined-looking— building, another object awaited her in front of the buildings big glass door, a hair brush butterfly bestial.
"Dr. Wax, I'm assuming?" The hair brush was holding a clipboard, looking ever so slightly tired. "Come on in, we've been expecting you for a while now."
The two entered the building, stepping directly into the foyer, that doubled as a reception area. The big room had clearly seen better days, the paint on the walls was fading and huge chunks of the wall itself seemed to be peeling off.
"Yes, I know this place isn't the most… pleasant location to take care of children… But we assure you that we are working as hard as we can to renovate the place." The brush begins nervously tapping their clipboard, as they noticed the crayon's less than favorable expression.
"How many children do you have here exactly?"
"That depends. Do you mean full-time, or on a per period basis?"
"I mean how many." The doctor's words almost cut through the brush like a razor's blades.
"F-Fifteen." She looks to the doctor, who continues look at the place with a lot of scrutiny. "M-Most of them are the children of the researchers working here… so they don't stay here full-time."
"Good for them. This place does not look like the nicest place to leave a child at."
"I…" The brush's gaze drops to the floor in a mix of shame and embarrassment. "…can't even argue with that… We're understaffed, and this place looks like the set for a horror movie."
"That it does."
"But the kids don't really seem to mind all that much! We make sure that all their dormitories are in peak condition, it's mostly just these bigger areas— where the kids don't go usually— that look this bad."
"Good to know you're all doing the bare minimum, at least."
The two walked further into the establishment, while in silence, passing through multiple kids and caretakers. Those sights made Caroline realize that the people in charge seemed to at least care for these kids— even if they are, as Brush themselves put it, understaffed and with a building that looks like it'll fall apart any moment.
Eventually they reached the dormitories, a big square room with multiple rooms, one for each of the kids.
"We didn't really want to put multiple kids in one room," Brush says. "We thought it'd make some kids uncomfortable… Especially her."
"How is she?"
"She's fine. She's not a trouble maker or anything like that. Anything we ask she does, unless we ask her to talk… then she just… stays silent."
Caroline stares at the only closed door in the dormitory. It was dirtied with chalk, like if someone tried to clean up a chalk stain and ended up smudging it. The door itself was nothing special, but she swore she could feel something through it, this intense suffocating feeling of hopelessness.
She slowly approached the door, each step making her feel like she was sinking deeper and deeper into an ocean, until she reached rock bottom. She reached for the door handle but hesitated, wondering if opening up that door would flood the outside with all the sorrow from the inside.
Hair Brush, noticing the doctor's hesitance, approaches the door as well but— unlike Caroline— she does so with ease, as if she just couldn't feel the same things that the doctor could.
She opened the door, revealing a darkened room illuminated only by the light from the outside. The walls were covered with scribbles upon scribbles that Caroline just couldn't comprehend, and the floors littered with even more incomprehensible drawings. In the middle of the room sat the child, Sugarcube. The light from the sunrays outside falling perfectly on her, drawing attention to her like she was a golden treasure in a haunted catacomb. She appeared to be drawing something.
"Hey, sweetie!" She turns to face Brush, a blank expression plastered on her face. "We need to get you something to eat! Then we'll introduce you to your new caretaker!"
Hair Brush spoke to her in a tone you'd use to speak with a little child— around the 4-7 year old range—, contrasting with the 11 year old's almost lifeless stare. A stare that spoke more then a thousand words. The stare of someone that had seen the end of the world, and came back alive, yet changed.
The doctor had seen this stare before, in multiple objects in fact. If she closed her eyes sometimes she could see them again. The cactus that had lost her wife in a house fire, that still leaves a spot at the dinner table, just for her. The couple, a remote and a computer mouse, who still kept their son's room completely spotless, in hopes that one day, he might come back. The current head scientist of Paradise, who couldn't even do reports for the "Ring's Re-population Project" without crying halfway, in memory of the previous head scientist.
And yet, she would never expect to see that in a child of this age.
Just what has this child experienced? What would be enough for her to look like this? She wondered to herself, as the small one silently followed Hair Brush to the orphanage's cafeteria, while leaving the drawing she was doing behind.
Caroline snatched the drawing from the ground where it stood, curious to see try and understand what lied behind those cold, saddened eyes.
The doctor held the child's drawing in her hands. She didn't understand who those in the picture were beside Sugarcube— her best guess were her parents, but she wasn't given a description of them, only their current status as deceased.
She felt the urge to cry. Cry for all of what this child had to endure. How long had she stayed silent about this? How long had she had to carry this monumental burden over herself?
I guess that's my job to find out… isn't it?
She carefully placed the drawing back on the ground, and walked back to the entrance of the establishment.
Tomorrow she would have to introduce herself to Sugarcube, and that introduction had to be… flawless…