Stories of Siv Spencer Theophane
I like you
The mother refuses to leave her child alone for a moment after she first meets her baby, and this was reciprocal in Calhoun’s behaviour since the misunderstanding in the shower. If Siv moved backward, Calhoun would gasp. He behaved this way throughout the evening whilst Mr Emanuel introduced them both to the remaining populace of the house. He had two sons - which gave Siv mixed feelings of relief and dread. Calhoun had appeared to adopt the habit of hanging onto every word that escaped from Siv’s mouth, fortunately this didn’t happen as much as Siv would usually predict among the presence of a family. Mrs Emanuel was the first and hopefully last woman he had ever seen, and he much preferred male company to which he could relate even if only by anatomy. Siv hadn’t dared yet to browse the building, he had seen within the bathroom and the majority of the downstairs area. But he needn’t see any bedroom upstairs beside his own. He would never have suspected they had a room for which himself and Calhoun could share, but according to Mr Emanuel there was many a room. When introduced to the youngest son, his face was that of a man that had recognition of him but couldn’t place it in his mind where he had seen him. Siv merely presumed that he shared the look of somebody else he knew, as far as he knew that was relatively common among teenagers, and both sons looked within the appropriate ages that people entitled as such. Of course; Siv would never ask them how old they were, or anything unnecessary to mention. The black cat that dwelled within the house was louder than Siv, and he liked it that way. Calhoun spoke little more than him, but there was a distinct difference in their paralinguistic movements and volume of speech. It was clear that Calhoun was gradually becoming more relaxed, Siv could see this later that night when his awkward arms became sloppy and his usually erect head laid back on the soft mattress. Siv had joined him in the bedroom but his bedding had been set up neatly over the sofa downstairs. His routine back at the labs was to set a loud signal on his computer that would screech into his ears after the hundredth minute, he could never arise after ninety-nine minutes and one minute afterward would throw off his sleeping ritual, this had become habit after several occurrences when he was young of awakening approximately after one hour and forty minutes. Calhoun’s words of advisory guidance before Siv left the room for his sofa steamed his eyes, though he refused to give Calhoun the thoughts of his words affecting him.
“Your free now Siv, you can walk out now whenever you desire it, but my time is coming to an end. I can feel it Siv. But I can leave this world having felt what it was like to love. Have you ever loved Siv?”
These were the words that drifted from the room and remained implanted in Siv’s mind as he slowly walked down the stairs, an activity that wasn’t as frightening as it had first appeared. Siv’s thoughts returned when he had completed his journey and successfully migrated to the giant sofa that awaited him. He hadn’t any childhood, not consciously. He hadn’t any warmth in his heart, and as long as he could remember, never had. He imagined himself as a newborn, being held in his mothers arms. She must have been a clean woman because she rinsed herself of filth like him. Integrating with his mother made his father a clean man too, it was easier to think he had never had parents. He was created in a test tube and his growth happened spontaneously overnight like bacteria without further reproduction. When he died, he would transform to dust and be swept away by a cleaner, never thought of as ever existing. After careful exercises he laid his body to rest, sounds came from beneath the sofa as if he had set off some small dusty bombs, and this postponed his sleep further. Thinking of how clean things appeared on the outside, and how there may still be dust hidden within. This reasoning however could never justify his parents. Never. Had they have cared for him then he would have the same childhood as Mr Emanuel’s sons that he had now learnt obeyed to the names of Adam and Cameron. He instructed himself to sleep eventually, his differential past still written over his face that not even the draft of the open window could diminish.
“Your free now Siv, you can walk out now whenever you desire it, but my time is coming to an end. I can feel it Siv. But I can leave this world having felt what it was like to love. Have you ever loved Siv?”
These were the words that drifted from the room and remained implanted in Siv’s mind as he slowly walked down the stairs, an activity that wasn’t as frightening as it had first appeared. Siv’s thoughts returned when he had completed his journey and successfully migrated to the giant sofa that awaited him. He hadn’t any childhood, not consciously. He hadn’t any warmth in his heart, and as long as he could remember, never had. He imagined himself as a newborn, being held in his mothers arms. She must have been a clean woman because she rinsed herself of filth like him. Integrating with his mother made his father a clean man too, it was easier to think he had never had parents. He was created in a test tube and his growth happened spontaneously overnight like bacteria without further reproduction. When he died, he would transform to dust and be swept away by a cleaner, never thought of as ever existing. After careful exercises he laid his body to rest, sounds came from beneath the sofa as if he had set off some small dusty bombs, and this postponed his sleep further. Thinking of how clean things appeared on the outside, and how there may still be dust hidden within. This reasoning however could never justify his parents. Never. Had they have cared for him then he would have the same childhood as Mr Emanuel’s sons that he had now learnt obeyed to the names of Adam and Cameron. He instructed himself to sleep eventually, his differential past still written over his face that not even the draft of the open window could diminish.