Doctor Clancey's gaze remained on my form sitting in the cold, unyielding metal chair. Holding her clipboard, she had been circling my chair, asking me a series of rather unorthodox questions.
"When the lights go out, how do you feel?" She circled my chair again, shooting me an assertive yet calm glance.
The question, like many others, had taken me aback. While I had slowly grown accustomed to them, the randomness of them always had me on edge.
"Rememeber to answer honestly."
I tried to slouch, but the plethora of restraints limited most of my movement. "I'm not afraid of the dark in any way, I kinda like it. I also like the silence, it's like the universe's way of speaking to me ...if it even tries to reach out."
Doctor Clancey quickly jotted down some notes and stepped back from my metal chair, nodding her head. "A rather introspective individual, I see."
"Is that a ...bad thing?" I looked towards her, arching an eyebrow.
"Not really."
She set the clipboard down on the table, before approaching me in the chair once again. Kneeling down, she spoke in a low, almost gentle voice.
"What do you think the universe says to you?"
The woman's hands slowly grasped around my chin, pulling my head a little closer—well, as far as the restraints could allow.
At this moment, I began to reflect on the entirety of my life that I could remember, all the times I had been bullied and shunned for being quirkless, along with the absence of admiration or care from my parents—mostly my father. From what I could bleakly tell, my mother tried to fill in those gaps, but she wasn't exactly the best at it, but at least she attempted to. That's better than nothing.
"One time I received a present from a friend of mine ...a gift basket because of my home situation. My family is the type to go by with only what they're being paid, rationing and deciding carefully how to spend their income."
My fists clenched in the restraints as more and more painful memories continued to flood through my mind.
"But ...I didn't want to be seen as a charity case, someone the world's supposed to feel bad for. I tossed it all away into my backyard and tried to scream at the universe, but it only gave me silence in return."
"M-my father found what I had received and accused me of being greedy ...a-and he..."
A deep burning sensation engulfed my forehead, more prominent than usual. I knew that if this continued, she would see the apocalypse sigil and have some sort of reaction. After a short period of thought, I took deep, slow breaths to suppress these emotions.
"But ...I also think the universe kinda likes me or something. I mean ...I have a few friends, one of them told me to write down my thoughts, and the other kinda ...has feelings for me."
My fists unclenched, and I felt a warm sense of numbness wash through my being. "I was never one to believe in the supernatural or superstitions or whatever it's called, but, sometimes ...I feel like the universe really does listen to those who call out loud enough ...even if it's just inside your mind."
I suddenly felt the restraints around my arms and legs loosen, allowing me to move again. Doctor Clancey took a step back from my chair, gesturing towards a door on the far side of the room.
"Walk with me."
Before she could fully approach the door, she paused, removing and tossing me her coat. It was a little big on me, but it would most likely provide ample protection from the cold. The woman with snow-white hair opened the door, revealing the desolate landscape outside. Aside from the monotonous feel and look of the industrial complex, a thick layer of snow coated the ground, and more pummeled from the sky.
In the middle of the scene, I caught sight of the greenhouse. Behind its dew-coated glass, I saw numerous , large green shapes that I believed would be plants. Doctor Clancey said nothing else as she stepped into the snow, which crunched under her boots as she made her way to the entrance of the greenhouse.
She exchanged a long look with me, silently beckoning me forward with the curl of her finger. Without saying anything, I hesitated for a moment. I had no shoes or socks to protect my feet from the bitterly cold snow.
"Go on, walk." Her tone lowered, sounding like an order rather than a recommendation.
The sudden change in her tone ignited some kind of instinct within me. I quickly scanned the snow, noticing her trail of bootprints. The distance between them wasn't large enough to which I had to jump, so I could most likely walk in them to prevent the rest of my feet from getting cold—in the worst case, frostbitten.
"W-why ...do I have to walk through the snow?" I asked, feeling wary and puzzled.
Doctor Clancey's gaze remained analytical over my progress the closer I came to the greenhouse. Judging by the way her hand twitched, she was itching to take more notes regarding my condition. Her blood-red lips parted slightly, and she cleared her throat shortly after.
"If you were truly insane, you'd start begging and pleading for something to cover your feet. In this world, those who are truly rational can see past commodities and embrace solutions to their problems ...no matter how unorthodox they may be."
The frigid snow beneath me seemed to burn rather than freeze my sensitive soles. The closer I came to the greenhouse, my feet nimbly tracing over Doctor Clancey's footprints, the warmer everything seemed to become. Soon enough, the snow melted completely, revealing the dark brown grass beneath me. The air around the greenhouse steamed, slowly ebbing away at the surrounding snow.
"This greenhouse isn't your normal invention, you see..." Doctor Clancey reached into her small medical bag, taking out a pair of stiff slippers that fitted me just right. I took them with trembling hands and slipped them over my feet, the now red, somewhat swollen and frost-nipped skin immediately finding respite.
The doctor opened the door, allowing me a look inside the greenhouse. Lining the entrance of the massive glass box was a plethora of vivid, green plants and foliage that deeply contrasted the dark and dreary landscape outside. As we began to walk further down the aisle of plants, I spotted distant blue flickers nestled in between the plants.
As if noticing them too, the doctor paused and knelt down, reaching her gloved hand into the foliage. A few moments later, it emerged with a small white flower in hand. The edges of the petals shone with a faint, iridescent blue hue.
"This is Night Vanilla," she explained, showing the flower to me.
"Care to hear the story behind it?"
I couldn't help not nod my head as I gazed at the flower. The object emitted a warm, almost comforting hue.
Without any further introduction, she continued speaking. "This very greenhouse, alongside the plants inside them, belonged to the founder of the Pollinators Ulysses Steiner. He was a brilliant scientist, alchemist, and even a soldier to a certain extent."
She held the flower up in the air, and it seemed to glow slightly brighter. "This flower can emit pheromones and chemicals into the air that help with sleep, and it can even calm a person down—even our most deranged lunatics."
Doctor Clancey suddenly clenched her fist around the flower, disintegrating it into a fine powder. A few moments later, she took out a small vial and slipped the powder inside.
"I presume you've grown familiar with our production facilities beneath the medical facility?"
"I mean ...my friend works down there, Damien." I replied, stuffing my hands inside my pocket.
"Well, tell your friend that a new wave of Night Vanilla candles are in production; our new harvest is as bountiful as ever."
...
After I was sent back to my quarters, I immediately collapsed onto my bed. Pulling the sheets up to my shoulders, I finally let out a long sigh. The rest of my 'interrogation,' Doctor Clancey continued bombarding me with peculiar questions. The sound of the door opening roused me from my half-slumber.
Damien, his light gray outfit covered with stains, entered the room. His youthful, smooth face was covered in spots of ash and soot, making him appear like a raccoon in the dim lighting. He let out a long sigh, a small scowl on his face as he strode over to his bed, collapsing without saying a word.
"Did you get zapped?" He asked, his voice muffled through the pillow.
I let out a low, deprecating chuckle. "I'd say I had a better time than you."
The boy lifted his head, turning back to me and coughing. "Later, me and my gang are gonna have a small dinner. You're invited by the way."
"Alright," I felt a small pit form in my stomach.
"W-when will this dinner be? Don't your friends turn into monsters at night?"
Damien plopped back down on the bed, spreading his arms. "I didn't know they turned into monsters until last night, so It'll probably be pretty early so we don't get eaten alive."
I too leaned back in the bed, adjusting the blankets and pillows. "I slept like shit last night, so see if your friends can ...like ...schedule something no later than five , I guess."
Damien arched an eyebrow, looking towards the small clock in the room. "It's like ...three twenty right now."
"Good..." My voice dissipated into a yawn as I sank into the sheets, my eyes slowly drifting close. "Wake me up when you have a plan in mind."
The white-haired boy groaned loudly, sitting up in his bed. The sheets below him were already contaminated with stains and soot. Damien stretched his arms above his head until a joint within them popped.
"I'll be back in like ...ten minutes." He grumbled.
"Alright..." A slow, sleepy smile formed on my face as I rolled over, facing the sterile walls beside my bed.
I felt like I had only been asleep for five minutes before a sharp jostle from Damien shook me awake. The boy stood over my bed like a phantom, smiling.
"We'll have dinner in twenty minutes, so get ready bug-boy."
As he walked away, the boy abruptly froze and turned back to me, still smiling. "By the way, I don't know if we have leaves for you ...or whatever bugs eat."
"Shut up, dumbass." I tossed my pillow at Damien, hitting him square in the face.