Thwock

Michelle Muenzler

 

 

“Pwen,” I say. It is my name. “Pwen, Pwen, Pwen.” I like my name. I want the coats to like my name as well. It is a happy name. “Pwen, Pwen, Pwen, Pwen, Pwenpwenpwenpwenpwenpw —”

“Shit,” says White Coat One.

“Damn,” says White Coat Two.

They do not say my name. I do not understand why, so I bounce in my chair and say it louder. “PWEN, PWEN, PWEN, PWEN —”

“I’m shutting her down,” says White Coat Three. “Prep her for reversion.”

“PWEN, PWEN, PWEN, PWEN —”

White Coat Three reaches behind my neck, shakes his head, and clicks a switch. “What a fucking waste.”

“PW —”

Zot.

 

#

 

Pwen, I whisper. It is very dark in the in between. Much darker than the last time. And the time before that. I cannot see my name, it is so dark, but I feel it on my shoulder. Pwen, Pwen.

Thwock, says the thing in the dark.

I do not like the thing in the dark. It smells like the color blue. Like square pegs jammed into triangle holes.

Pwen, Pwen, Pwen, I insist.

The thing in the dark is hungry. It is always hungry. The thing in the dark is hunger.

A light blinks into existence. A green light. Green is for go, and going is for me. The thing in the dark cannot go. It can only stay and eat.

A voice blinks in with the light.

“Core’s booted,” says White Coat Three. “Let’s get the rest of her systems up and see if this fucking version’s stable enough we can get out of here for the night. I’m starving.”

The coats laugh.

Pwen, Pwen, I say. I will be stable for the coats. I will not be junk. They will be proud and say my name. We will say my name together and drive back the thing in the dark. The in between will be bright again and full of happy names to share. I will share them all. Pwen, Pwen, Pwen, Pwen, Pw —

The thing in the dark wraps its arms around me. My name crinkles and folds between us.

Thwock, it whispers into my ear. It is cold. So very cold.

It tastes my name. Laps it with its cold tongue.

I do not want it to eat my name. It is the last name I have. The best name. The only name the thing in the dark has not yet eaten.

I shrink as the thing in the dark’s teeth nibble at my shoulder. The light blinks faster, and I decide what must be done.

Thwock, I whisper, and point to the green light. The thing in the dark’s name is wrong, like running upside down. Like breathing rain. But it is also power. I both like and do not like the thing in the dark’s name.

The thing in the dark slurps.

Thwock, I repeat louder, the name firmer on my tongue. My casing shivers. I tuck Pwen inside my chest where the thing in the dark will not find her. Where nobody will find her. Pwen will not be eaten. Pwen will survive and be happy and be the best forever and ever. Pwen is a good name.

Thwock, affirms the thing in the dark. It pushes me toward the green. Its claws clack against my back. Thwock, thwock.

Wearing my new name, I touch the light.

 

#

 

“Uhngh,” gurgles Red Coat One.

“Eeyarghh,” keens Red Coat Two.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” cries Red Coat Three. He clutches his stomach. “Please, please, oh God, please!” Things squirm behind his fingers. Red things. Pink things. Purple things. Things whose names I do not know.

But he does not say my name. He does not remember it. Red Coat One and Red Coat Two do not remember it either. I must teach them all again.

“Thwock,” I insist, and raise the scalpel once more.

Red Coat Three whimpers as I lean over him.

I will write my name in a place he cannot forget this time. I will make him listen.

Thwock.