The Modern Prometheus

by Nicole Mello

  “There is a specific type of nothingness that comes from a life of unawareness such as I lived in those beginning days. They could have been weeks, or months — I had no concept of time for those days, and I could not tell you with any degree of certainty how long it was before I learned about what time was, and how it passed. Everything was new, and there is a certain kind of magnificent wonder to that, one I cannot describe. No human remembers what it is to be newborn and to see the world with fresh eyes, but I, with my adult brain, remember distinctly. I was newborn, but conscious of the world around me. But I was not living, not in the sense of the word that I have since become acquainted with. I was not living any sort of life. I was merely surviving, moving from day to day. I constructed rudimentary shelters, then moved on. I ate when I felt hunger. I drank when I felt thirst. I attempted to find a comrade in the moon, and in the leaves that shifted in the wind, and in the creatures that crossed my path. I did not understand life; I did not understand why they did not reply to me.

  “I entered a small town one day, and a woman was grilling something in her backyard when I was passing through it. I was hungry; the ground had not been providing me with any solid nutrition, or anything filling, and the smell of whatever she was making enticed me. I approached her. Upon seeing me, she screamed, knocking the grill over in my direction, and sending a burning rain of hot coals into my face. I shouted in pain and stumbled back; she had retrieved her family and neighbors by the time I was able to look around me again, and they chased me out, fear plain on their simple, open faces. I was terrified.

  “It was that night that I first saw myself. I was drinking from a stream, and I caught sight of my own reflection, illuminated by the moon. I was startled at first, before I realized the being in the water moved as I moved. Then, understanding dawned. Not long after, horror followed. I was not like any of the people I had seen before this; I was, truly, monstrous. I was unlike them; I was beastly, I was ugly. To them, I was inhuman, though I did not understand the differences between them and I, apart from the obvious outward divergences. I wanted to understand. I decided to seek out humans who would understand me.

  “This was extremely difficult, especially considering my newfound natural fear of humans. My burns began to heal, but it took time. When I was able to look in the stream and not see the horrible redness that defined my face and neck for a time, I decided to try and seek out a human who might be willing to teach me their ways, since I, for some reason, had no knowledge of what I was meant to do, or of my world at all. I had a natural hunger, a curiosity about me that I recognize in you. Like father, like son, I suppose.

  “I began my search for a companion in earnest. I stuck to the woods until nighttime, eating berries and roots, drinking river water. At night, I was freed by the darkness; nobody could see my face, or my hideous form. They were not terrified; I was, for the most part, ignored. My stature was still significant, but this was looked upon with surprise more than horror. I searched town after town, but found no one. I am not surprised; my inability to communicate was rather limiting.

  “At last, I came upon what I originally thought to be a small, enclosed town, but I later discovered to be a university. For reasons unknown to me, I loved the area. It spoke to me; it was a small piece of humanity, wrapped up in nature, very nearly placed right in the woods. I felt comfortable. It had a great deal of people wandering about, but it seemed as though nobody glanced twice at me. Everyone was different; it was a very diverse population. I decided to stay in this place until I ran out of food.

  “After a bit of time, I discovered that, when the darkness came, people would disappear into a number of buildings, all in a row. This never changed; evening after evening, people returned to those very same buildings. It was cold at night then, colder than it had been lately, and this seemed like a logical course of action to try, this shelter that all the others were using. I followed in closely after someone once, slipping in through the open door before it automatically closed, and I navigated the halls as best as I could. I came upon an empty, unlocked room, and it was here that I took up residence.

  “I had to leave periodically to obtain roots and berries, but I did not leave very often at all, since I was so comfortable in there. Soon, I found that there were noises coming from the other side of the wall. Not just any noises, either: noises I recognized. People were talking, just like people talked in the streets, in the cities, in the backyards. I put my ear to the wall between the two rooms, and I could hear them more clearly. I found a small hole in the wall, which I could peer through if I climbed onto one of the beds in the empty room. This is where I began to spend the majority of my time.

  “The people in that room were appealing to look at and very interesting to observe, even before I had a grasp of their language — which, luckily, was also yours. There were two women who were there most often. I picked up their names rather quickly, as they would respond when that particular sound was made by the other. Their names were Agatha and Safie. Agatha was American, with fair-skin, freckles, wild red hair, and a wide smile. She was gentle, she always wore dresses, and she always had a kind word. Safie was, in appearances, Agatha’s polar negative; she had very long hair that was black and silky, and dark skin: the complete opposite of Agatha. Safie had freckles, too, though, and the two of them were about the same height, but that was about where the similarities ended. Safie was thinner, where Agatha was wider; Agatha had blue eyes, and Safie’s eyes were so dark, they were almost black. Safie was foreign, with an accent, though I did not yet know where she was from. Regardless of their differences, they were, both of them, so beautiful to me. I loved them both dearly.

  “Agatha’s voice had a similar accent to the voices of those also in the area, but Safie’s was different. I was not sure why. A man frequently visited the room and stayed for long periods of time. He was young, just like the two girls, and he resembled Agatha. His name was Felix. He walked with a cane far out in front of him, tapping out his path; it took me a bit of time to realize his eyes could not see. He had shaggy hair, the precise shade of Agatha’s, and freckles in abundance, like her. He was taller than her, and his eyes were whitened with his blindness, but their similarities were stark. The fact that they were siblings was unmistakable.

  “Felix also regarded Safie with an adoration and fondness that differed in tone and appearance from the relationship he had with his sister. He had a romantic love for Safie, very different than the familial love he held for Agatha. He was tender, and good; he had a light touch, and, like his sister, always had a kind word. I realized that Agatha and Felix often spoke to each other in one language, and Safie would attempt to reply, her voice slower and thicker. She would then speak quickly in a different way, the words shaped differently, and then return to her slow version of Agatha and Felix’s words.

  “Safie was learning English. Agatha and Felix were going to great lengths to teach her, and I took complete advantage of the situation. There were a couple of books abandoned in the house which I had taken up residence in, and I stole them, hiding them away in the room that had become my sanctuary. I also utilized the books that Agatha and Felix occasionally used on Safie, though they usually just tried to teach her by the spoken word. That made it much easier for me. I learned English more quickly than Safie did, but she had other work to do, and she already knew an entire other language. I had nothing else but this.

  “It took time, even if I was quicker than Safie. I learned word by word, and I still had to figure out letters, sounds, words, sentence structure. I read constantly, even when nobody was in the room next door. I learned English as fast as I could, and I learned that I was in the state of Maine, at a college called DeLacey University. Safie was an exchange student, though I never quite learned where she came from. Turkey, maybe. She was always very vague and withdrawn when speaking about any life of hers outside of DeLacey, and I did not — and still do not — recognize the language she spoke when she wasn’t speaking English.
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  “Aside from learning a language, I also learned about humanity through these three. They seemed to represent all that was good in the world, all which humanity had to offer wrapped up in three individuals. They worked together, they sang together, they slept together, they enjoyed each other’s company. They laughed, they cried, and I found myself frequently doing the same. I not only sympathized with them; I had begun to empathize, in a way, even though I was probably largely incapable. I wanted to be with them. They were their own family unit; I wanted to join them. I brought berries and roots to their door, which they would examine and ask each other about. They never knew where the food I brought them came from, and I was proud of myself for what I conceived as assisting them, helping them survive their day-to-day lives, since they occasionally did appear to forget to eat.

  “I thought of them as my family. They taught me English. They taught me about the world. They taught me how to laugh. They taught me how to live, Father, which is more than I could ever say, can ever say, about you. It was your job to take responsibility for me, and you did not. Though indirectly, this became the job of these three college students. They did not know it, but they were more my family than anybody else, and I loved them dearly. Felix, with his gentle voice, and the music he would play on his guitar, even though he couldn’t see his fingers on the strings. Agatha, with her hard-working spirit and her unshakable kindness. Safie, with her determined spirit and enticing, rhythmic way of speaking. They were beautiful to me. I loved them, Father.

  “Once I figured out the English language, I moved on to not only speaking it, but reading it. I utilized the books I found, and came to find that I had three favorites. I use the word ‘favorites’, but I adored them all; I loved to read. There were three that made the strongest impressions on me, for certain. One was a volume of Plutarch’s Lives. One was The Sorrows of Werter. I reread both of those books frequently; they were rather interesting. If you have not read them, Father — or you, for that matter, Henry Clerval — then I recommend you do.

  “The last book, which I hold in the highest esteem and which I would not hesitate to call my favorite, was a book called Paradise Lost, written by a man named John Milton. It struck a chord with me at once, as I recognized the name Adam as the name which you called me at my birth, Father. The name made sense; I had been searching for a sound by which to identify myself, like Felix, or Agatha, or Safie, but I had not been able to decide. I didn’t know how names came about; people don’t really discuss that in conversation, as you probably know. I didn’t know if it had to be chosen, or if I already had a name. As soon as I read that name — that name, Adam, right there in front of me — I remembered. I remembered you, and my name, and my beginnings, which I had been struggling to push out of my memory as a bad dream. I did not know what I was, but I wanted to pretend I was normal. That was fairly sturdy evidence that I most certainly was not.

  “Paradise Lost, then. Not only did I recognize my name in the book, but I recognized myself in the character with whom I shared a name. Adam was very like me, in that he was the first of his kind. I was not like humans; this, I had begun to understand. I must be the first of my kind, I thought. I was somewhat confused; did this make you a God? You and I did not have the same relationship as Adam and the God that created him. That God was kind and fatherly, which you most certainly are not. But there was no doubt in my mind that I was Adam, and so I figured you must be some sort of deity, some form of God. You were not like that the God in the book, though; you were cruel, ignorant, malevolent. You were the opposite of what I needed, and I worried for my kind. Was I human? Was I more than human? Was this a new awakening, an evolution? The more aware I came, the more questions I had, and, soon, the deeper the questions became.

  “Once I recognized in myself the beginning of something new — a life, I would say, which I was not aware of before — I began to make plans for myself. These plans, for the most part, centered around my three neighbors. I already thought of myself as a member of their little family, and the idea was growing rapidly, becoming more and more difficult for me to shake. My strongest desire was for companionship, and I loved these three so dearly. I started to plan to introduce myself to them. That was the first step of my master plan. I imagined it constantly: I would go over, knock on their door (as I had seen others do), they would open the door and see me, and they, being the kind souls they were, would not scream or flee or attack. They would allow me to come inside, and they would hear my story, as I am telling it to you now. They would welcome me with open arms.

  “It took me some time, since I had to both develop the plan until I was comfortable with it, but also gather up the courage, the confidence to actually do this. I was incredibly nervous, but I had my plan all ready. I would wait until, for one reason or another, Felix was alone. Since he was blind, he would not startle at my appearance, that much I was certain of. His kindness would allow me to enter and speak to him, and then I would be able to tell him my story. Then, when Safie and Agatha returned, they would be startled — I had no misconceptions, I knew they would be. But, once Felix calmed them, he would allow me to explain myself to them, as well, I imagined. Then, they would embrace me as one of their own. I just needed to be given a chance, that’s all. That’s all I needed.

  “I waited for a long time. Months, it seemed, though I’m sure it wasn’t so bad as all that. I was just anxious, and grew moreso with each passing day. When the day finally came that Safie and Agatha left for an extended period of time — to retrieve dinner, because the three of them were studying rather intently and didn’t want the distraction of whatever mess hall they usually got their meals from — I decided to put my plan into action. I left my room, which already made me feel uncomfortable, since it was not night time. Sunlight streamed in from the window down the hall, and my heart was racing as I knocked on the door of the room next door with my massive hand. I could hear Felix’s voice within, one of those voices which I cherished above all others, telling me to come in, allowing me entrance. That voice, those words, were directed at me. I was in awe; I nearly forgot to open the door.

  “‘You’re back early,’ Felix said to me. The first words spoken to me since yours, since you called me ‘Adam’ on the night of my birth. I hesitated, then spoke.

  “‘I do not think I am who you think I am,’ I said, and my voice was rough, but my words were clear. Felix was seated on the floor, cross-legged, his guitar in his hands. He set it aside when I spoke. ‘I am lost, and seeking kindness.’

  “‘You talk like someone in an old book,’ Felix said, smiling. He motioned with his hands when he spoke to me. ‘What can I do for you?’

  “This was it. I shut the door behind me, effectively trapping us both inside. My heart was in my throat, pulsing madly. I was terrified, but I was so, so hopeful. I sat down across from him, and fought the urge to take his hands in mine.

  “‘I am looking for a friend,’ I said. This, too, was part of my plan; I would describe my situation vaguely, no names, and let Felix draw his own conclusions until I was asked directly. I assumed it would help. Felix cocked his head.

  “‘Do you know where this friend is?’ Felix asked me. I nodded my head, then remembered his blindness.

  “‘I do,’ I answered. ‘It is actually three friends. I love them dearly, but I am afraid that they fear me. I am rather ugly, and people seem to run from me constantly.’

  “‘You sound fine to me,’ Felix said. ‘People can be shallow, you know. People suck. But that’s something being blind kind of saved me from, you know?’ He paused. ‘What’s your name?’

  “‘Adam,’ I told him. ‘My name is Adam.’

  “‘Adam,’ Felix repeated. My name was incredible in his mouth. ‘Well, we’ll see what we can do about your friends, alright? And you said you were lost?’

  “‘I am lost,’ I confirmed. ‘Felix, I don’t know what to do.’

  “A beat of silence. Then,

  “‘How do you know my name?�
� Felix asked, his body tensing a bit. Body language is instinctual, our reactions to one another plain in the way we hold ourselves, in the way our body behaves. I could tell he had just become wary of me, and I panicked.

  “‘I have been living next door, Felix,’ I told him. Felix’s brow furrowed. ‘I’ve been watching you. I bring you food. You taught me English. You taught me how to live, Felix. You are my family.’

  “‘Oh, my God,’ Felix exclaimed, hurrying to his feet. I, too, stood, trembling with fear. I was afraid I had frightened him; his face seemed drained of blood, and he appeared to be ready to bolt. The door to the room opened, and Safie and Agatha returned. I turned to greet them, and Safie screamed.

  “‘Felix, who is this?’ Agatha demanded. Felix shook his head roughly.

  “‘I don’t know, but he’s been watching us through the wall,’ Felix answered all at once, his voice shaky with fear. This was exactly what I didn’t want to happen. The take-out containers that Safie and Agatha had gotten were spilled all over the floor. ‘Get him out of here, call the police, do something, Aggie-’

  “Safie was on me at once, spraying something in my eyes that burned them down to my very brain. I shouted, clutching my face as tears streamed down it, doubling over. Safie brought her elbow down on the back of my neck, and I stumbled down. I was being attacked by those I loved most dearly, and I was terrified. I was heartbroken. I fled. I left behind that house, my books, the little home I had created for myself, and the people that I had considered my family for so long. I fled.

  “I kept an eye on the house for a long while. The police did come, and they searched for me for a time, but I remained elusive. They gave up after a bit. Safie and Agatha moved out of the house. Felix was there when they left, looking terrified. He had one hand in his jacket pocket, presumably holding some sort of weapon. I was anguished, stricken with grief over losing them. I was also angry, very angry, which I did not yet understand. I wanted them to feel the pain I felt. I remembered the pain of the hot coals, and I attempted to set the house on fire. I failed, succeeding only in scorching my fingers. I finally fled.