Chapter 6:

Bred To Be Bread

(Outdated) Simular Beings


The moment the boy grabbed the man’s hand, the scenery around him changed. Almost in the blink of an eye. It was as if he had just been teleported.

His records told him nothing about teleportation being a viable technology; only in science fiction. But it was odd. First, it was the invisible wall. Now this. It was like he was experiencing a completely different reality from the one he knew. At least, from the one he thought he knew.

In hindsight, it probably wasn’t a good idea to grab somebody’s hand just because they had offered him food, but he knew he couldn’t resist for long. After all, he had come to the city for bread. He had nothing to lose. It wasn’t like his life meant anything to this stranger.

“Wait here,” the man said. He then left through a door, not forgetting to close it behind him.

The boy looked around thoroughly for the first time—a white, cubical room. Like a hospital room. His records told him so. There was also a small, wooden table, a toilet, and a chair. But nothing else. The walls were smooth like marble, lacking in any kind of texture. And as he ran his hand down the flat surface, for a second, he thought it was suffocating.

He felt trapped. Alone. Just this time, he wasn’t helplessly sprawled across the snow in his infantile body. This time, he was stuck in a box. A big, empty box.

He walked up to the door. Common sense told him that it’d be locked, but he turned the knob anyway.

It didn’t budge. Locked. As expected. But then the door swung wide open again, and the sharp-eyebrowed man from before walked through with a tray in hand. It was too high for him to see what was on there.

The man towered over him. He was intimidating. Much more so than the woman from before. But just for a second, the boy got enough courage to ask—

“W-who are you?”

“Me?” He pondered for a moment. “Why? How would that help?”

“I-I just wanted to know…”

“Why?”

“Just…” The boy was overwhelmed. “I… I don’t know…”

“Useless.” The man shook his head. “Don’t ask questions without purpose. But it doesn’t matter anyway. You don’t need to know who I am.”

“O-okay…” Maybe he could… “Mister, Can I…” He cautiously pointed towards the door. “Leave?”

“Really? Leave?” The man followed where the boy was pointing. “Why?” He lowered the tray he was holding. It held a number of bread slices and a glass of water. “You’d be willing to starve?”

Bread… The boy instinctively reached for a slice. His mouth was salivating all over again.

“Ah.” The man pulled the tray back. “But this isn’t free, you know.”

His eyes started following the tray. The boy was more desperate than ever. The bread was right there, dangling above him like some sort of fish bait.

“How about you do some… biddings for me?” The man steadied the tray. “In return, I’ll give you food.”

The boy quickly nodded. He didn’t care what he had to do. He needed something to eat. Something fast. It didn’t matter what.

“Good. Then let’s start with this. Do you have a name? You should be able to introduce yourself, right?”

“I—” He paused. He never thought about having a name. “I don’t know…” he responded weakly.

“Then make one.”

He looked up at the man. His eyes were suddenly sharp, staring him down like daggers.

“Make one. You’re creative, right? You’re intelligent… right?” The man put heavy emphasis on the last word, his cold eyes never leaving him.

The boy started to sweat; his nervous eyes ran circles around the room. It suddenly felt hotter. As if the pressure around him changed. As if the world suddenly weighed down on his tiny shoulders.

“Well?” he asked again. He picked up a slice of bread and shook it like some dog treat. “What’s your name?”

“I-I don’t—”

“Just make one up. Anything! Damn it, anything! What’s your name?”

The boy looked at the man. Then the tray. Then he looked at the bread in his other hand. His eyes darted left and right. His mind raced up and down. He didn’t know. He didn’t know what to say. What should he name himself? How did people come up with names anyway? Did they just make random noises and match it with random syllables? Should he do the same?

“Don’t you want to eat?” he mocked. “Just give me a name!”

His records! What did they say? Anything about making names? About what it was? Anything? What even was a name? Was it a title?

He couldn’t take it. All that pressure. He was so hungry; he just wanted some food. He couldn’t take it anymore…

“Come on!” the man yelled.

“B-bread!”

“Bread?” The man had an empty gaze—a momentary silence. “Bread…” He straightened up, pulling the tray of food farther away from him. “Ah, god… DAMN it!” He threw the tray at the wall. It clattered to the floor sounding like rogue gunshots. “What were you programmed from? A dead rat?! You’re human, aren’t you? You’re supposed to think! Make things up on the fly! You’re supposed to be smarter than me!”

The man burst into short strides, back and forth like some sort of angry pendulum.

“Bread?! That’s what you came up with? Bread!” He grabbed at his hair, chuckling deliriously. “You know what? Bread. Sure. Fine. That’s your name from now on, Bread. Just a loaf of useless, plain bread.”

The boy nervously stepped back. His back hit the wall; there was nowhere to run.

“You know what?” He stepped in a little closer. “I was wrong. I started too complex.” He took a few deep breaths, placing his hand on his chest as if to feel his heart. “Let’s start with something… easier. Are you human?”

The boy tensely nodded, not completely understanding the abnormality of the question being asked. All that was on his mind was to minimize the danger in front of him.

“Good… Good. Alright. That’s enough for today.” And without missing a beat, the man left.

The boy, now known as Bread, was absolutely, without question, terrified. 

Cora
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