Ouroboros

Big Bad Wohlf

     The hour was four in the morning. Far too early to have one's head on straight. In his fatigue, Dr. James Morris scarcely thought before smacking the fly on the mirror with his bionic hand. The impact left not only the imprint of a dead fly, but a visible crack. He swallowed hard and finished washing his hands. "That'll be tough to explain," he sighed. 

     He adjusted his nametag, then pressed the button on the hand dryer. When nothing happened, he rolled his eyes and left the dingy restroom. His footsteps echoed endlessly down the empty halls of the facility. There was an odd peace to the wee hours between one day and the next, he thought. Until everyone else woke, the place was his alone.

     In silence, he walked his routine path down the hall, up the stairs, round one corner and another, until he reached the end of a dimly lit corridor. Before him stood a door marked with black-and-yellow tape and a flashing computer screen.

     "RESTRICTED AREA. NO UNAUTHORIZED ENTRY."

      The screen blared at him until he pressed his hand to it, allowing it to scan his fingerprints. Almost immediately, it rejected him.

     "TOUCH ID FAILED. PLEASE TRY AGAIN."

     "Every damn time I wash my hands," he muttered to himself. "What's with this machine and wet fingerprints? Can a man not be sanitary?"

    He tried his bionic hand, but the same automated rejection greeted him.

     "Having some trouble, Jim?" someone asked from behind him.

     "Of course, you're here early, Dr. Sullman," he said. "I think the computer's glitching. Every time I wash my hands, it rejects me."

     "At least you wash your hands," she laughed. "I thought we installed new hand dryers."

     "Maybe in the women's restroom. Not in the men's, because the one in there still doesn't work. Anyhow, could you possibly let me in?"

     "Sure thing." She pressed her hand to the screen, and the doors swung open. Jim followed her, and the doors slammed shut behind them. There was no light in the huge room apart from the soft blue radiating from the towering window which formed one wall. Dr. Sullman looked up and pointed to something beyond the glass. "Here he comes."

     An immense dark shape glided serenely through the water on the other side of the window. Thunderous vibrations thrummed through the walls as the creature called out to them. It stopped swimming, took a breath from the surface, and descended to face them.

     Dr. Sullman pressed her hand to the glass. The whale opened his jaws a little, allowing them a glimpse of his ferocious teeth. Jim's whole body trembled as the whale clicked him inside out. He sat down at the desk and fumbled to open his computer. "Shall I translate?" he asked.

     "No need," she said. "I prefer to speculate sometimes. Maybe a day will come when we no longer need software to communicate with him."

     "Well, I'd like to hear what he's saying." Jim put on his headset and launched the program. Within seconds, the whale's clicks appeared as words on his screen.

     - Get that bitch out of my sight. -

     "Good morning, Coda-9994," Jim muttered into his headset's microphone.

     "Now I'm curious. What's he saying?" Dr. Sullman asked.

     "He says 'good morning,'" Jim lied. He leaned over his screen to cover it up.

     - You know that's not what I said, Jim! –

     Dr. Sullman smiled. "Good morning."