The weeks blurred together in a mix of exhaustion and hope, but there was something different now. I could feel it, in the way I approached the creatures, in the way I spoke to them. Every day, they responded more. A subtle shift, like the air before a storm, only gentler. As I worked, the realization solidified in my mind that these creatures—these things—were not the same as I had once believed. They weren't simply animals. They were more.
I'd been working with creature number 047 exclusively, trying to build trust, to break down the walls I hadn't even known were there. At first, it had been stubborn, like training a wild animal, but slowly, imperceptibly, 047 began to react differently. It no longer growled when I entered its cell. It didn't cower or pull away from me when I reached out. It was learning—learning in a way that was beyond training and conditioning. It was understanding. And every day, I could see it.
When I issued commands now, 047 would hesitate—just a moment, enough to show it was thinking—before it obeyed. There were days when it would refuse, testing the boundaries, but I didn't back down. I kept my voice calm, steady, never too forceful. And then, slowly, it would comply. Just like the day it sat.
Other handlers had started to take notice of the progress. They were skeptical at first, their faces tight with doubt, but after seeing 047 respond to my commands with less aggression, more compliance, they began to ask questions. They watched from the corner of their eyes, curious but unwilling to admit that they, too, saw something different.
I found myself thinking about them—these creatures—at odd times. In between training sessions, in the silence of my room. What were they? How far had they been pushed? And if they could understand orders, could they understand kindness?
That was the line I was walking now, the line between doing my job and doing the right thing. There was a part of me that wanted to be the one to change this, to prove that there was more to these creatures than just obedience. But I was afraid—afraid that if I took the wrong step, if I pushed too hard, it would all come crashing down.
Every day, though, I saw improvement. 047 was responding more, learning more, and every time it succeeded, I felt a small victory. A small, quiet victory in the face of an entire system that believed in force, punishment, and control.
It had been weeks since I'd first started using positive reinforcement, and I could feel the difference in the air. The training was slower, more measured, but the results were undeniable. The creatures were learning. They weren't just obeying—they were understanding.
It was during one of these quieter moments, as I sat near 047's cell, watching it sit obediently as I gave the command, that I felt something shift in the air. I didn't know how to explain it, but there was a presence in the room.
The assistant's voice broke through the silence. "Rhea."
I stood immediately, my heart racing at the sound of his voice. He didn't speak unless it was important, and the shift in his tone made me uneasy.
"The Supreme Leader wants to talk to you," he said, his words measured and precise, like always.
The weight of his words hung in the air, and I found myself hesitating for a moment, the faintest flicker of worry crawling up my spine.
"Now?" I asked, my voice calm, despite the nerves creeping in.
"Yes," he replied simply. "He's waiting."
I gave a nod, but my mind raced. I hadn't expected this, not right now. Not when everything was starting to feel like it was coming together.
I glanced back at 047, who sat there, watching me with those strange, observant eyes. I had to remind myself that this was just one creature. Just one, and yet it felt like the beginning of something so much bigger.
As I turned to follow the assistant down the hall, I couldn't shake the feeling that the Supreme Leader's summons meant something more than just a routine check-in. It meant that everything I'd been working on—the progress, the small victories—could be about to take a turn.
And as much as I had hoped for change, I knew that the Supreme Leader had his own agenda. And no matter how much I had learned in these past few weeks, there were still things I didn't understand about him, about this place, and about the creatures I was starting to see as more than just tools.
I followed the assistant down the hall, my thoughts tangled with what was to come.
And as I stepped into the elevator, heading toward the Supreme Leader's office, I couldn't help but wonder just how much longer my work would go unnoticed—or if it ever would again.