THE PITIFUL CHILDREN ; bmc x deh

[ TEN ]

Wake up.

A short, sharp electric shock suddenly jolted Connor awake, causing him to gasp aloud. "Jesus fucking Christ," he muttered, sitting up and stretching. "You can shock me?"

It's just sensory stimulation. It helps you wake up on time, so you have time to prepare yourself; therefore, you can use the school day to your advantage.

'Surely there's a better way to do that,' Connor thought, suddenly remembering he shouldn't speak to the SQUIP out loud. It was incredibly disconcerting to have a robotic male voice in your head at six am, especially considering he wasn't at all used to it.

No. It's more amusing this way.

"Fuck you," he nearly shouted, again out loud, not seeming to care if someone heard him — which they did. Zoe yelled at him from the next room, telling him to 'shut the fuck up and stop talking to yourself, it's seven o'clock in the morning'. His father would be up already, but now he knew Zoe, and likely his mother, would be up as well.

He let out a heavy sigh. Not a great start to the day.

It will get better at school, the SQUIP informed him, seeming so sure of itself that Connor might have believed it — if he was more naïve, maybe. But he knew how it would play out.

Another day of being ignored or laughed at, then Zoe might drive him home if she felt like waiting. His mother would probably have come up with another way to 'fix' him; another therapist, different prescription drugs, maybe some weird diet. He'd lock himself in his room until the next day.

Connor. I need you to focus, now. The voice jolted him out of his reverie once again. Get dressed. Go downstairs, and eat breakfast with your family. Your mother will appreciate that. Last night, the SQUIP had explained how it was a learning computer, and took in the information from Connor's memory, along with observations he made, to understand the people around him and predict any favourable or unfavourable outcomes.

He hauled himself out of bed with a clearly irritated groan, picking up the discarded clothes he'd been wearing yesterday — black jeans, a shirt he'd found in his sister's drawers and kept, and a heavy black hoodie. He tugged it on, sorting through the pockets like he always did. A couple of plastic wrappers and a set of earbuds accompanied his phone, but nothing else particularly interesting.

He jammed the earbuds in, switching on his phone. No new messages, no calls, no nothing. He found a decent playlist, beginning to blast it through the small, tinny speakers in his ears. The SQUIP didn't seem at all happy with that, but as long as the volume was high enough, the computer's voice was faint.

Ignoring its frequent repetitions of his name, trying to get him to listen, Connor opened the door to his room and started to walk downstairs. He was halfway down the stairs when the SQUIP shocked him again. He yelped, one of the earbuds falling out of his ear to dangle by the wire. Zoe gave him a slightly confused look as she manoeuvred around him, and he glared back — not with the same ferocity he would have anyone else, though.

'What the fuck?'

I needed to get your attention, the SQUIP said, and Connor thought he heard a hint of amusement again. Stop trying to drown me out.

He was about to reply — telepathically, of course — when Zoe yelled again. "Connor finished the milk!"

Almost running, he made his way into the kitchen, to find Zoe holding an empty milk carton. "That wasn't me, asshole," he snapped. "It was probably Larry."

His father didn't reply, still scrolling through Twitter with the occasional frown.

"You're the only one who uses milk around here," she replied grumpily.

"He has it in his coffee, fuck off," he muttered. For once, it hadn't been him who finished it, and getting accused of something he didn't do was yet another bad part of this morning, which was going awfully so far.

It doesn't matter. She'll drive you to school anyway. The SQUIP was probably right, but that didn't make it feel any better. Get her a new carton of milk, as a peace offering, came its self-assured suggestion. He opened the fridge with a drawn out huff and got her another carton from the very top shelf, where she couldn't reach. Connor slammed it on the counter, not really registering her surprise. She didn't thank him, but took the milk in silence, pouring it over her cereal with that same vaguely confused expression she'd had on the stairs.

He sat down silently, opposite her, leaning his head on his arms. His mother offered him toast, but he ignored her.

You need to communicate more, Connor, spoke that grating male voice in his head again, to which he gave the same fate as his mother — just being ignored. And you can't keep ignoring me. I'm inside your brain. Now, it said, tone quickly switching to something more commanding, ask Zoe for a ride to school.

"Zoe, are you driving to school today?" he asked, already feeling awkward. She nodded, with a mouthful of cereal. "You can drive me, can't you?" Another affirmative nod. "Cool."

See? That wasn't so bad, the voice spoke smugly, and Connor could have sworn that if it had a face, it would have been grinning.

'Yes, it was.'

"Alright, I'm leaving," Zoe announced, picking her bag up from beside the door and rummaging around in it for her keys. "If you're not ready, too bad."

Connor couldn't help smiling slightly, but it quickly faded.

"See you both after school!" his mother waved them off. His father said nothing, barely acknowledging their existence, let alone the fact they were leaving.

"Bye, mom!" Zoe called behind her.

Say goodbye.

"Bye," Connor muttered half-heartedly; he caught a brief glance of his mother's smile as he left, climbing into the front seat of Zoe's car.