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The old chair shuddered as a twig of a man fell on it; the force of his landing shoved the chair backwards to scrape against the stone floor. Dull light poured in from the glass window, amplified by glowing containers housing a myriad of specimens on two nearby tables. His assailants stepped closer, working together to trap him in his seat. Each second he was restrained served a reminder that he was only moments away from becoming an unfortunate experiment himself.
It was almost time for feeding. The rat was aware of this fact. The schedule was simple enough: the figure would pad towards the tank twice in a day, carrying the only things that mattered: pellets and fresh water. Both were refilled quickly and once the task was finished, the shadow would appear as the rat had its fill. Sometimes, the sequence would be disrupted, rather than the familiar darkness settling over the tank, the rat would be removed and placed onto a table. There the figure recorded information. The rat’s weight, its size, its behavior. When it was satisfied, the rat returned to the tank.
The first feeding had already come, the pellets were finished and the water container emptied. Yet the shadow did not cover the corner of the tank. Only now for this final feeding, did the shadow return to rest. There were no pellets and the water container now had a dim hue. The rat had noticed the change. It rose to sniff around for the pellets it was accustomed to, ignoring the movement of the shadow. A low hiss alerted the rat to the intruder’s presence.
A cat, hairless yet far from sickly, prepared to pounce. Conditioning, winning over instinct had the rat drink from its water receptacle. Almost instantaneous, the rat’s body convulsed, its muscles twitching and straining beneath the skin. The body was alight in a purple glow that traced the path of the rat’s nervous system. The scene staggered the feline in its attack, a pounce abandoned for a more defensive crouch away from the animal.
Too late.
Everything hurts.
Nothing feels right.
I need to get away. The shadow takes up more space here than it should. It’s too close and that’s wrong. It's. All. Wrong.
I force myself to inch towards it and strike. The shadow falls and there is less pain now. The air has changed; it's different but not new. My claws are wet and something moves above me. Clean air! I reach up and pull myself away, I couldn’t do this before.
I can see more space down below me and I leap towards it.
I need to rest.
I don’t turn around.