All it ever knew was the bleakness of absolute zero.
It knew not of blue summer skies or gray evening clouds.
It knew not the soft fur of a week-old pup or the sharp prick of a needle on thread.
It knew not the warmth of another being or the frigidity of blackened ice.
Which is why it was perfect for Magnolia to start all over.
Restart. Claira, her life was over. So begins…
….
Project 白い. "White". A blank canvas.
Not even the creators of this.. thing, knew what it was.
It had no real form. Most often, it chose to take on the structure of whatever the researchers dropped in front of (most often on top of ) it.
Or, rather, it took atoms from said structures and rebonded them into itself.
Truly, it was.. a mystery.
It seemed "alive". And yet, also not.
It had no cells. And yet, it could move.
No one dared actually prod at it. Opening its container was out of the question.
Magnolia would think it a lonely thing, if it could feel what is classified as "lonely".
Yet, it could not feel.
That would soon change.
….
It was easy to sneak in.
Those days, no one even approached Project 白い's "enclosure" (three white walls and bulletproof glass). They were afraid they, too, might fall victim to its structure "copying" (recently, it had torn apart an orange and rebuilt it into a seed around itself).
Magnolia slipped in undetected. Which was a little unusual for her considering what she was lugging around on her back.
Magnolia dropped the body in front of it. Claira's raven black locks bounced as her corpse fell.
白い was making the researchers fearful. "We are concerned that it is gaining too much skill and power," they'd stated in a recent interview.
The mass of whatever unknown matter that was Project 白い slowly moved towards the corpse. A bit of it poked at the still form. It was a bit of a grayish color when condensed into a non-Newtonian fluid (someone had dropped a bit of it in there earlier—a prankster, perhaps).
The scientists at the head of the project were trying to find a way to dispose of it safely.
So far, they had found none.
"Hello," Magnolia murmured. Why was she speaking to it? It could not hear.
And yet, she continued, possibly in a trance.
"Could you do your magic trick for me?" She spoke to it as if speaking to a small child.
It need not be asked, however, for it was already tearing at the carcass, pulling apart structures and piecing them back together in a grotesque sort of puzzle.
Magnolia tried not to look.
….
What remained in the aftermath was a pile of mutilated flesh, still-wet blood, shattered bones…
And a small child.
It worked.