That afternoon Mangle researched behavior of human toddlers to have a baseline to compare the experiment to. Apparently their words were often confused or incomplete, their attention spans short, and they were oftentimes very stubborn. Mangle growled. If this...thing was going to have those same character traits, they were going to be at odds a lot. Which, he was told by doctors with human subjects in trials, was generally not a very good thing for testing. They needed to present themself as likeable to the subject, then.
Of course, they couldn’t just search ‘how to make a child like you’ if they were dealing with something that wasn’t a child. But…if the experiment was going to have the temperament of a human, they could base what they did around that temperament. Though they weren’t completely receptive to the idea of equating this beast to a human. That could potentially be catastrophic, not only to them, but to their career. They needed to keep the distinction clear; while this thing may have acted like a human, it was not in fact, a human. Certainly not. It could think like a human, walk like a human, talk like a human, but it would not be a human. Just because something might walk like a duck and talk like a duck, didn’t mean it was a duck. No, it simply meant that thing was duck-like. Duck-like animals and ducks were different, so naturally human-like and human were two very different things. That made complete sense. Thus, with Mangle’s worldviews intact, they went about looking up how to befriend a child, while keeping in mind that they were, in fact, not dealing with a child.
The next day Mangle walked into the experiment’s room, armed with knowledge and what they hoped would be enough patience to deal with whatever this subject through their way. When it looked up at them, it frowned and said, “No. Go ‘way, liar!”
Mangle took a breath. “My name isn’t Liar. It’s Dr. Mangle.”
The experiment struggled but managed, “‘Angul.”
Mangle pointed to themself. “Dr. Mangle.”
It pointed at Mangle and parroted, “‘Angul.”
Mangle sighed. “Close enough. I brought you a…” what should they call it? What would a child see it as? “...A toy.”
The subject gasped, pleased. “A toy?!”
Mangle nodded. “Yes, here.” They brought out the first test they wanted to perform on the subject.
It was a ball, with holes all over it in specific shapes, corresponding to plastic pieces inside the ball. It was designed for a child to recognize different shapes and match them. The subject snatched it away and tore the ball in two along the plastic seam, releasing the shapes. It was excited. “Shapes!”
Mangle wasn’t sure why the subject’s excitement made them so wary. “Yes...shapes.” They took the ball back and put it together, before handing it back to the subject. “Can you clean it up?”
The subject nodded. “Like toy,” it said. It picked up a circle. “Circle!” It put it in the circular hole. “Fits! Circle fits!”
Mangle sat there, faintly amused. “Yes...it does, doesn’t it?”
The subject ignored them. “Square! Star!” It picked up a triangle. “Is you?” it asked with a tilt of its head.
Mangle shook their head. “No, it’s not me.”
The subject looked confused. “But…’Angul,” it pointed at Mangle. “‘Angul,” it held up the triangle.
Mangle was torn between laughing in exasperation or starting up in surprise. “This is a triangle. My name isn’t triangle, it’s Dr. Mangle.”
It looked disappointed. “No you?”
Mangle shook their head. “No.”
The subject looked at the triangle in its hand. “Oh.” It stuck it in the ball. “You fit!” it exclaimed.
They ground their teeth together. “No, I’m not a triangle!”
The subject giggled. Understanding dawned on Mangle. “Oh. You understand that, don’t you? You’re trying to get a rise out of me.”
It beamed and pointed at Mangle. “‘Angul! ‘Angul fit in ball! ‘Angul fit in ball!”
The door opened behind Mangle and a brown haired scientist with pale skin and the nametag Dr. James walked in. “Who can fit in what now?”
The subject continued to point at Mangle. “Mommy! ‘Angul fitted in ball!”
Dr. James searched Mangle with her green eyes. “It it referring to you?”
Mangle grimaced. “I believe so. It uses the same substitute for my name and the word ‘triangle’. It thinks it’s funny to purposefully use the wrong meaning. I didn’t expect it to understand word games like that,” they admitted.
Dr. James shrugged. “Well, it is one of our more advanced subjects of the Project. If it performs well enough, we might get the funding to clothe our subjects.”
Mangle was taken aback. “They would actually pay for us to get custom-fit clothing?”
“If we’re lucky. Here’s its food. You can administer it once you’re done with this test. Oh, and you’re needed in a meeting this afternoon, I’m sorry if that messes up your testing.”
Mangle waved the apology aside. “No worries, this is my only subject. I can easily reschedule around the meeting.”
Dr. James nodded. “Good to hear,” she said, and walked out.
The subject waved. “Bye, Mommy!” it called to the door.
Mangle leaned back once Dr. James left. They watched the subject play with the test some more, fitting all the shapes together and ripping the ball apart again. Mangle timed it this time around, and when they got sufficient data, packed up and got ready to leave, allowing the subject to keep the ball. When it noticed Mangle leaving, the subject called, “‘Angul!”
Mangle turned expectantly. The subject pointed at itself and said, “It.”
Mangle furrowed their eyebrows. The subject pointed emphatically at its chest. “It! Me It!”
“Oh.” Mangle nodded. “Goodbye...uh…‘It’.”
Mangle closed the door behind them and shook their head. It had created a name for itself?! That was terrifying! This subject was more advanced than they had assumed. Suppressing a shudder, they moved to their office, preparing for the afternoon meeting and future tests. Setting tests up as toys or games seemed to work, and it seemed receptive to them, now, which was good. They shuddered in displeasure. They just wished they didn’t have to be known as “Triangle.”
ns 15.158.61.20da2
