The Origin of Midnight Malice Pt. 2
Dr. Victor E. MaliceParticipant
“All life signs seem stable. Is she breathing?”
Midnight could hear the voices of her humans. They were muffled at first, then slowly getting clearer and clearer.
“Is that you, Dad?”
Dr. Malice and Dashanka Karakova were looking at the instrument panel that was reading out Midnight’s vital signs. They turned and looked at each other, each acknowledging to the other that they heard the same sound.Then they both looked at Midnight.
“Midnight? Was that…..you?” Dr. Malice felt silly asking the cat if she had just talked. I mean, people talk to their pets, but never in a way that you would expect a response from them.
“Yeah, but I don’t understand…..” Her voice sounded slightly glitchy as she started to sit up. “What happened? One minute I was out in my field, the next I’m in this room.” Midnight’s new cybernetic implants didn’t seem to bother her, to Dashanka’s amazement. She approached the cat, who was now stretching out on the operation table.
“Midnight……do you know what you’re doing right now?” Dash’s heart raced the closer she got to the cat.
Midnight thought a minute, licked her paws, and replied, “No, what?”
Dashanka responded, “You’re speaking human. English, to be precise.”
“Yes, I know.”
“But I didn’t program that into you. How are you doing that?” Dash was right up close to Midnight now.
“I was taught how to on the other side.” Midnight stood up and nuzzled her face against Dash’s chin. Dashanka’s heart melted, as a tear welled up in her eye and a big smile grew on her face.
Midnight continued, “You see, that device you used not only revives the dead, but helps them readjust to the ‘Living State’. For some, it comes in the form of instruction manuals, for others it’s games, but for me it was other…um….” Midnight couldn’t find the correct word to use for what she was.
Dr. Malice interjected, “Ghosts?”
“Yes! Ghosts! Thanks, Dad!” Dr. Malice blushed. “So, I was just walking around this field when I was visited by the first ghost.”
Dashanka blurted out, “Wait, there were more than one?”
Midnight scolded Dash. “Mom, if you keep interrupting me, I won’t be able to finish the story! So, The first ghost looks down at me and says that I’m a very lucky little kitty. I get to go back to my body on Earth, but first, I have to prepare myself. At first, I was scared, but he scooped me up and carried me into this bright light. When we exited it, we were in a laboratory, almost like this one, and I realized I wasn’t afraid anymore. So, for our first lesson, he pulled out a chalkboard and wrote a sentence on it and asked me to read it out loud. Unfortunately, I didn’t know how to read. So, he taught me. By the time his lesson was over I could talk basic english sentences, with a little bit of Cat thrown in. Then he scooped me up and we entered the bright light again. This time, we were in a what I believe is what a classroom looks like. There, he finished the lessons, and I was fully fluent in human English, as well as my own native tongues.”
Dashanka and Malice were astonished. Malice was the first to respond. “Wow, Midnight, that’s amazing! Did anything else happen? What was it like? Did you meet any other humans or cats?”
Midnight took a few steps back. “Woah, slow down. One question at a time.” She jumped down off of the table and trotted into the next room. “Hmmmm…..just like they said.”, she muttered to herself. Her humans were right behind her.
Dashanka heard her muttering. “Who? What did they say?”
“Oh, just, uh, stuff about gravity.” Midnight didn’t want to let on more information than she needed to, for fear of being kept locked away for studying.
Dr. Victor E. MaliceParticipant
@Spymaster General Danov Valravn said:
I may be getting somewhat into this now, though the level of soft squishy feelings it elicits in me is most uncomfortable. Almost like having an organic heart again….
You’re actually supposed to feel those “soft, squishy feelings”.
They are N̸̜̏o̶̧͂r̸͇̐m̵̩̎a̶͎͗l̴̥̓
T̶͚̲͕̽̀̾h̸͎͍͉͊̒̈ȧ̶̢͕̫̈́̋n̴̛͉̯͚̓̂k̵̝̤̬̆̎͊ ̷̗̺̻̉̉̃y̶̢̫̞̌̓̕ő̵̗̹͇̉͑ư̶͖̝̱͆̈ ̶͇̣̭͌́̂f̴̩̺̩͊̐̈ỏ̴̼͇̉̿͜r̸̖͖̼͐̌̋ ̸̙̫̩̊̒̾ṛ̸̨͕̏͌̌e̴͕̺̥͒̚͠ȧ̸̱̞̗́̽d̴̢̫̦̊͊̀į̶̧̤̀̂̿n̵̨̪͈̒͊͠g̸̰̜͍͋̾̽.̴̹̱̯̑͂̌
̵̨̞̖̦̥͖̫͎͐͒̓̅͒͗͊̈͠ͅĤ̴̻͇͕̰̱̺̖͕̯̈́̄̄̿̓͆̈́͠a̶̧̛̹̰̦̱̟̰͓̓̑͑͂̈̿̓͌ͅv̶̢̠͇̙͉̘̼̙͖͋̾̓͐́͒̃̋͘e̴̤̘̹͖͉̝̯̙̳̍͑̅́̈́̇͑̋̃ ̷̛̗͚̭̲̫̹̠̉͐̅̓̊̌̚͘͜͜ą̶͉̗̩̪̘̼̖͇̌̈́̎͂̔͌̄̔̆ ̷̛̹̹̯̮̠͚̞̺̂̈́̈́̀̄̿̑͒͜ņ̵̦̫̪̦̬̟̰͛̓̈́̈́̔̽̕͘ͅi̶̧̩̞̜̞̫͈̇̐͒̎́͌̔͗̈́ͅͅc̴̱̳̭͎̝̙͕͉̺̐̀̾̅̄͛̈́͝͝é̸̫̹͔̗͙̩̥̩̱̓͊͊̄̈́̈́͝͝ ̸̢̩̪̤̘̞͎̗̥͆̐́̾̔̿̚͝͝D̴̨͖͕̜̠̱̜͍͆̂́̀̈̂̈̄̏͜ȃ̷̢̮͖̘̮̰͚̬̞̇̈́̊̍̂̒̈́̕ŷ̸̧̪͎̰͔̲͍̫̻͂̂͑͒͘͘͠͝.̷̧̨̞̩̲͉̙͓̝̓̋̐̓̉̒̔̚̚
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