Unbecoming Humans

Chapter 17

Over the next two days, Nima recovered quickly. In between meals, I spent the rest of Sunday in the lab helping Nima with her therapy. I was loathe to return to class on Monday, but Zan was our on-duty handler for the day. I knew there was absolutely no chance he would let me skip class to spend time with Nima, so I didn't bother to ask.

I could not even pretend to pay attention in class. I doodled in my notebook and only contributed to the discussion when someone addressed me directly. I was grateful that we spent our afternoon class time working in the greenhouse. I could let my mind wander without the threat of being drawn into monotonous discussions.

I wondered what Nima was doing just then. Was she doing her therapy without me? Was she even awake? Was she thinking about me?

After working in the greenhouse for what seemed like an eternity, Zan told us to wrap it up and return to our rooms to clean up for dinner. I poured soil around the tomato plant I had just potted, before putting it on a shelf with the other plants. I brushed dirt off of my clothes and threw my gardening gloves in the pile of gloves next to the door. The time I spent showering and changing into clean clothes seemed to drag on. I wolfed down my dinner, but it felt like I couldn't eat fast enough.

Finally, after I excused myself from dinner, I had free time until bed time. I ran down to the lab without dallying. Inside the lab, Nima was running on a treadmill hooked up to machines that were monitoring her vitals and respiratory system. She waved at me when she saw me enter, but her face was covered with a mask, so I couldn't see her expression. I sat down in the doctor's chair next to the treadmill to wait for her to finish. She squinted at something on the dashboard of the treadmill, then held up three fingers to me. I assumed she meant to communicate that she had three minutes left.

While she kept running, I told her about my day, what she missed in class, and what we'd eaten at mealtime. I droned on for several minutes, babbling about who knows what, until the treadmill beeped and slowed to a stop. A scrawny young doctor came toddling over to remove the medical bits and bobs that were attached to Nima's body. The doctor's flaming ginger hair always reminded me of Róisín. At the thought of her, I smiled sadly to myself so that no one else would see.

"Whew! That was a workout!" Nima exclaimed, as she lowered herself off the treadmill.

"You look great!" I told her truthfully, taking notice of how much her condition had improved since the day before. "How long were you on there?"

"Just 10 minutes," she replied humbly.

"Nima!" I exclaimed. "You were in a coma two days ago! Running for 10 minutes is incredible?"

"I guess, so," she shrugged. "I bet I still can't beat you at tennis though."

"When you're ready, I'll take that bet," I chuckled. "How long do you think that will be, doc?" I casually asked the wiry doctor, who was now pouring over the charts recorded by the all the equipment during Nima's run.

"Oh, ehm, well, your highness," he stuttered. His formality always made me uncomfortable. He always referred to the other residents and I as "your highness," a formality that most of the other staff had let go years ago. It was not the use of the title that made me uncomfortable, but rather what was behind it. Despite the fact that we were "royalty," we were still treated like little more than lab rats by many of the staff here. Not to mention the fact that we had little know-how when it came to ruling an entire species. No matter how much time we spent studying the world, and humanity, and civilizations, and rulers, and anything else we could get our hands on, it never seemed like we would truly be ready to reign. Especially, since most of us had never even experienced life outside of the compound.