Chapter 1

How long has it been? How much time has passed since it all fell silent?

This place was once noisy. Outside of my room, there were always voices and footsteps. Humans wearing white and black would visit me every day. Researchers, I think. They observed me, gave me tests, spoke with many words that I did not understand.

Sometimes, human children wearing strange colors would visit as well. They would bring me new plants, call me "Mr. Tortoise," climb up my shell before sliding back down. Their words were simple. They also liked to observe me, but whereas most of the adults looked at me the way I look at rocks, the children were different. They seemed more lively, happier.

Then it came to an end. It was noisier that day. The humans sounded frightened. I thought of opening the door to look, but I decided to wait. Then, there was a rumbling. I was so surprised that I fell on my plastron. After that, the noise faded, and everything fell silent. It was frightening. I was curious what had happened, but I was more frightened. So I stayed. I waited, patiently, and I have not opened the door since.

This room is spacious, not uncomfortable. A light is here to keep me warm. A large rock does the same. A tiny creek flows near the corner, surrounded by familiar plants. Every day, a strange machine in the wall gives me tasty berries and leaves. It is pleasant. But it is also lonely.

It is too quiet now. Nobody has appeared in so long. I have room to walk, but it is the same circle every day. With so little to do, I find myself sleeping more. My legs are heavier now. My shell, too. I could leave anytime, but whenever I stare at the panel, my foreleg hesitates. If I press it, I will have to see what is outside... and what is not. When that fear arrives, this warm metal box seems more pleasant. There is comfort, even if it means I stop thinking.

Hm? That sound... That is the sound of my door opening. I lift my neck, and I see... a human. A child, female, wearing white. Her hair is white, too, but reminds me of metal. I have never seen her before. As she unsteadily walks into my room, the door closes behind her. She looks curious as she approaches me. Seeing her up close, she is not much taller than me when I stand.

"A turtle?" she says.

"I--" I cough. My voice is raspy. I have talked so little all this time, with only myself to listen. I must clear my throat. "I am a tortoise."

"Oh, okay. What's your name?" She does not seem surprised by my speech.

"My name is Olvy."

"Nice to meet you, Olvy. My name is Ida." Ida? Truly? One of the adult humans is named Ida. How strange. "Why do you talk so slow?" she asks.

"It is my nature." I learned to speak in short sentences. Most humans have little patience.

"Hm..." After thinking to herself, the small human places her hand on the top of my head. At that moment, I hear her voice not through my ears, but in my mind. "Is this better?"

Very strange. I imagine myself saying, "Are you able to talk like this?"

"If I touch your head, yeah."

"How convenient. My thoughts are far faster than my mouth."

She smiles at me. Somehow, I feel her happiness in my head as well. She seems just like the other children.

"Ida," I ask through my thoughts, "while you were out there, did you see a human male named Ason?"

"No." She shakes her head as her mouth remains closed. "I didn't see anyone else out there."

"That worries me." Ason was one of the first humans I met here, when I was still tiny. He was kind, and he was the first to call me Olvy. Ignoring the others' mockery, he taught me the human language, and we had many pleasant discussions together. Even as he grew older, and his hair began to turn gray, he never stopped looking at me the way the children do. He even gave me a device that lets me hover quickly. If Ason is not here, then where is he?

"Hey, Olvy, can you come with me? It's scary by myself, and I want to find Mom."

"Come with you?" I turn to look at the door panel, then the door. That would mean... leaving this room and facing the outside. If Ason was fine, he would have come back by now. Part of me knows it. I am worried about what I might find. And yet, I cannot leave this child alone. Human children need guardians. I do not know if a tortoise will suffice, but I may be the only one left. Perhaps, it is time I find out why the outside is so quiet, and where the humans went. "Very well, I will come with you."

"Yay!" She smiles. "Thanks!" She lifts her hand off and begins to run towards the door.

"But first," I say. She thankfully hears me and stops. "Are you hungry? Would you like berries?" I slowly turn my head to the machine, which now has food again. Ida picks up a berry, and after taking a nibble, she quickly eats them all. After I eat the leaves, I open the door, and I slowly begin to follow her outside.

My, how dim. I have never seen the hallway like this before. It is empty, silent, with no sign of humans anywhere. The lights that once shone all the time have fallen dark now. Some are flickering, and most are not working at all. The air also smells different. Familiar, yet somehow wrong. I have walked through this hall many times before, but now, it is almost unrecognizable.

As Ida walks to the right, she approaches one of the neighboring doors. She places her hand flat on a glass panel. It is what humans do to make these doors open. This time, however, the door does not move. "This one's not working either," she says before looking at me. "Do you know what's inside?"

"Two parrots."

"Parrots? What are those?"

"Colorful birds."

"Aw, they sound pretty."

"They were." The door not opening worries me. The parrots were lively, playful creatures.  I hope they escaped, or that their room still has food and water.

Ida is able to open the next two doors, but they are all empty. They all held animals once, but now they are gone. Perhaps they all escaped on that day. Perhaps a human returned for them. I may never know. Without anything else to see, Ida continues down the hallway. I follow behind her, still surprised by how everything has changed.

She is very energetic. Even with my hovering device, I can barely keep up with her. As Ida's footsteps hit the ground, tiny particles lift up into the air. She walks quickly, but she also looks at her surroundings. A light that was off suddenly flashes, before darkening with a loud snap. She yelps, then runs back toward me. That is natural. If we do encounter danger, I suppose she could hide behind my shell. She is small enough. I wonder, why is she here by herself?

Hm? What are these in the ground? Plants? It was originally made of solid, smooth white rock, but here, plants grow through holes and cracks. The walls, too. Thin vines reach from the floor to the ceiling. These plants should only live outside, but they are here now. Wait. Ahead, in the dim hallway, I see light coming through a hole in the ceiling. Unusual, yet familiar. "Let us look there," I say.

The hole is small, too small for even Ida to fit through, but I can see what is on the other side. Trees. The sky. This light is sunlight. Now I know why the air smells different. It is the smell of nature, of something I have not witnessed in so, so long. I have grown used to this place, even comfortable, but... Nature has no substitute. That is where I belong.

I prepare to walk again, but then I stop. This hole, why is it here? The humans never once allowed the metal walls or ceilings to break. Whenever rain leaked in, they fixed it that day. If this place is breaking apart now... then there are no humans to maintain it. Ason must be missing too. Where is everyone then?

"Olvy?" Ida's hand is on my head, and she is speaking through my mind. "What's wrong?"

"That hole has given me much to think about. I think this place is breaking apart, and there are probably no other humans here. I am worried. I wish to find out what happened."

"So Mom isn't here? Okay, let's look around."

She is not worried. Perhaps she is certain her mother can still be found. I should calm down too. I am slow, so I must be patient. If we encounter danger, I have only my shell and my knowledge to help. I just hope that is enough.