Nonconformity | Henry Creel

The Moon and the Sun

After hours of fitful, pointless attempts at falling back asleep, I decided to head to the Rainbow Room early. I sat alone for a little while, accompanied only by an orderly who stood in perfect, unperturbed silence. Peter was likely due to arrive any moment but, for once, I couldn't be bothered to wonder about him.

My fingers tapped with growing ferocity on the table. I made a concerted effort to maintain eye contact with my lap, afraid that if I looked up, blood would be everywhere. I knew it was just a dream. Another meaningless, infuriatingly detailed dream. There was no deeper meaning to search for or secret message to decode. My subconscious just took immense joy in fucking with me.

Still, I couldn't shake the image of bloodied bodies, bent up and broken. I was awed at the deliberate way in which my mind framed a massacre in the lab. It was just so detailed, so particular. All the way down from the flashing of the lights to the dizzying, metallic smell of blood. I hadn't even thought of death at such an exponential scale; let alone the deaths of people I actually knew. How had my mind managed to conjure up their faces with such clarity?

I sighed. It was unsettling, sure, but it was just a dream.

Just a dream.

Fuck, but it felt so real.

No. No. I cursed myself for being so disturbed by such a stupid thing. It was just my memories and imagination coming together to fuck me over as they had so many times in the past.

I needed a distraction. Desperately.

Another hour passed, sitting there, trying not to think about my dream. Instead, I focused on my newest puzzle; One. I still had to listen to that tape, so why not pass the morning doing just that? Even if it proved to be pointless, at least I could enjoy some music and quell my buzzing nerves.

I was pulled from my thoughts by the sound of metal scrapping against the ground. Six took the seat across from me. Chipper as ever, her lips pulled into a lovely gap-toothed smile. "Good morning," She greeted, "I have a theory. Do you want to hear my theory?"

I sat up in my chair, trying to wipe any and all perturbance from my face, "I would love to hear your theory."

"So," She cleared her throat, "You're aware that I'm nosy, right?"

"The nosiest. Go on."

"Good. So I was getting ready this morning and I went to the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth. The usual, you know? So I'm on my way there and guess what I see in the hall?" She glanced over her shoulder before leaning forward and whispering conspiratorially, "Two and Four. And guess what they were doing?"

"Hm," I tapped my chin, "Plotting their next ambiguous threat?"

"I mean, probably, but also something else." She took an overly dramatic pause between each word, "They. Were. Holding. Hands."

I gasped, "No!"

"Yes!" She cried, "So my theory is that they aren't just coconspirators; they're also in a secret relationship. That's why they beat us up together."

I sat back in my chair, "Woah. So their version of a date is joining together and violently assaulting someone?"

She nodded, "Yes, exactly."

"Wait," I met Six's eyes, "Are we thinking the same thing right now?"

"I think we are... It's kind of romantic, right?"

I laughed a little louder than what was wise, "Yes! Oh, my god. In like a totally fucked up and not healthy way, it's really cute." I turned to see a few heads looking our way, probably as a result of my laugh. Six held a hand over her mouth, too, trying and failing to stifle a few giggles of her own.