“Mm...a...p...p...l...e. What’s that say, Doc?”
“Apple. Are you sure you don’t want to go over the letters’ sounds?”
“I’m sure,” It said. “I know what sound s makes, and t, and p. I can figure out the a’s and i’s from the other sounds, mostly.”
Mangle leaned back. “Well, if you ever need to…”
“You’re here, I know Doc,” It said, grinning. “T...r...e...e...tr...um...what’s that word, Doc?”
“Hm? Tree. It’s tree.”
“Really? Tree looks so weird in writing.”
Mangle laughed. “Writing looks weird in general. We literally created squiggles and agreed that those squiggles in a certain sequence mean one word and in another sequence mean another.”
“Like...eat and tea?” It asked. “Is that what you used to explain it before?”
Mangle nodded. “Your memory is a bit scary.”
It laughed. “I can scare you more like this than I ever could flying!”
“I’d still like you to practice flying too, though, It,” Mangle prodded.
It nodded. “Uh-huh, Doc...d...a...d. D-ad? Is that right? Dad?”
Mangle smiled encouragingly. “Yeah, that’s how you spell dad.” It stiffened. Mangle frowned. “Are you okay, It?”
It shook its head and smiled overly bright. “It’s nothing, Doc. Really. Nothing.”
“It, in the 2 weeks we’ve been doing this you’ve never gotten that visibly troubled by something. You can tell me what’s up, it’s fine.”
“Well...I know what dad means, Doc. I...know what it stands for and all...sometimes the janitors will talk to me about stuff like that...and...um…”
Mangle nodded encouragingly.
It looked down at its feet. “I...I know it’s stupid...but...I sort of think...you’re kinda like my dad? Like, I feel you’re my dad. N-not by birth, ob-vi-ous-ly, b-but, you’re what they described a dad as being. Supportive, and kind, and considerate, and protective, and a lot of big words like that, that basically mean you look out for me. Which you do. So...I was wondering...if it would be okay if...I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want me to...but...I’d like to call you...Dad, if that’s okay.” It flinched, expecting to be rejected.
Mangle without thinking pulled It into a big hug. “Of course, sweetheart. You can call me Dad, of course.”
It squeezed Mangle back as hard as it could. “Thanks...Dad.”
Mangle’s heart skipped. “You’re welcome, sweetheart,” they murmured in It’s ear.
“Dad, did you know that I’ve been able to keep myself 3 feet off the ground for 10 seconds just hovering?”
“I didn’t, It. When did you get that high?”
“I couldn’t sleep the other night so I started to fly around my room a little bit to have something to do, and I stayed up for 10 seconds before getting too tired to fly any longer. It was so cool! I just kept counting, thinking ‘there’s no way I can make it to 10 this high,’ and then I did! What’re the odds? I can hover for 10 seconds straight!”
Mangle smiled. “You’re a really strong flyer, It. I can’t say I’m surprised. But I am very, very proud.”
It beamed. Mangle had found that praising It had slowly become more and more genuine over time, and the smiles shared between them more and more frequent. They had a certain connection the other scientists and subjects didn’t quite obtain. It was curious, to be sure, but at the same time, both were quite content with the arrangement. It’s always much better to have a strong ally in life than to go it on your own.
When they arrived at the gym, a few other subjects were stumbling around trying to fly, other scientists influenced by Mangle’s example. Some of the older experiments would be jumping around everywhere, roughhousing and generally giving the little ones trouble. “You gonna be okay, sweetheart?” Mangle asked.
It nodded. “I’m ready, Dad! I want to see how high I can fly today.”
“Okay, then. Let ‘er rip!” Mangle cheered.
It sprinted forward and used its wings to lift itself up into the air, higher, higher, until it could almost reach the ceiling. But just as It was reaching an arm out, one of the older boys leapt up and pulled on It’s wing. It started spiraling, and Mangle was sprinting over to catch It before they registered what was going on. It landed in a circle of bullies who proceeded to start kicking It and jeer, eager to beat down the “most successful subject of the lab”. Mangle broke through the crowd. “Stop it!” They roared. “Leave her alone!”
The whole gym went silent. Her.
Her. She.
What?!
Mangle swallowed thickly and gave withering glares to every single one of the kids who were surrounding It. “If you don’t leave her alone, you’ll have to deal with me, understand?”
It looked up at Mangle. “Dad…” she whispered, just quiet enough that only Mangle could hear it. Mangle helped her up. “Are you okay?” they asked.
It nodded. “My wing hurts a bit, and I’m a bit scraped up, but I’ll be okay.”
Mangle looked around, all the scientists staring at them slack-jawed or furious. Mangle grabbed It’s hand. “We have to go. Now.”
It nodded and ran to keep up with Mangle’s quick pace back towards It’s room, but they went past there and into Mangle’s office, where Mangle locked the door. “Dad? What’s going on?” It asked terrified.
Mangle turned to face it. “I just accidentally insulted some very, very important people, and they’re going to want both of our heads for it. They can’t get into my office without the key code, which only I have, so we’ll be safe here. But we need to lay low for a while.”
It nodded. “Is it because you helped me? You really didn’t have to, next time you can just leave me alone, they won’t kill me--”
“No, It!” Mangle exclaimed. “It’s taken me a while, but I understand better now. You’re very important to me, in a way I don’t exactly understand. But I won’t just stand by and watch you get hurt if I can stop it. I couldn’t live with myself. It’s not your fault at all. Okay? I need you to understand that.”
It looked into Mangle’s eyes, and she smiled. “I understand, Dad. You finally see me as human.”
“It only took a year and a half, huh?” Mangle weakly joked, realizing this is exactly what happened.
“Well, you’re only human, too,” It said with a smile. “Sometimes these things take a while.”
Someone banged hard on Mangle’s door and they jumped. “Let’s go into my room; I’ll let you read quietly as long as you want.”
It nodded and climbed up onto Mangle’s bed, grabbing their tablet. Mangle settled themselves on the floor, surrounded on all sides by work, relaxed by It’s halting voice as she read.
“...This…was…because…some…people…thought…they…were…better…than…others…because…of…their…skin. This…is…called…um, rack-ism?”
“Racism,” Mangle corrected. “It’s pronounced ‘racism’. What are you reading, anyway?”
“Um…American History something or other.” It waved a hand. “I dunno.”
Mangle sat up from their position sprawled on the floor and stretched. “Why are you reading American History something or other?”
“Dad…” It sighed. “You said I could read as much as I wanted.”
“I didn’t say you could read whatever you wanted, though,” Mangle retorted.
“What’s so important in here that you don’t want me reading it?” It asked.
“It’s not necessarily that I don’t want you reading it, it’s just that what you read could put you in more danger than you are already in.”
It looked puzzled. “Is this about that word?”
Mangle nodded. “Yeah, it’s about racism.”
“It sometimes feels like everyone is racist towards me. Is that true?” It asked.
Mangle looked down. “Yes, the people in this lab don’t think of you as human, and that’s because of something like racism. Though since it’s more about what’s in your DNA versus theirs, I’d call it elitism. They see themselves as ‘pure’ and you as a mixed breed.”
It shuddered. “That’s…somewhere between scary and sick.”
Mangle looked away from It. “I’m sorry,” they whispered.
“You realized it was wrong, Dad. I don’t hold it against you.”
“I’m still sorry,” Mangle sighed.
It slid off the bed and crawled into Mangle’s lap. “Stop it,” she ordered. “You’re not allowed to beat yourself up.”
Mangle teasingly raised a fist towards their face. It grabbed it. “Stop! You’re not allowed.”
“Okay, okay,” Mangle placated, kissing the top of It’s head. “I won’t.”
“You better not,” It warned.
“I won’t,” Mangle assured. “I promise.”
It nodded approvingly. “Good.” And she went back to reading. “The…people…thought…racism…was…wrong…so…they…held…protests…”
ns 15.158.61.8da2
