The Adapters: Poke, Prod, Scrape (Pt 1)

Poke, prod, scrape...

That's all it is, every single day.

Poke, prod, scrape...

For research, they say. For science.

Poke, prod, scrape...

They poke at my chest, as if feathers will sprout from them at any moment.

Poke, prod, scrape...

They prod at my wings, plucking feather after feather. They don't care that it hurts.

Poke, prod, scrape...

They scrape at my arms, collecting skin cells. They stick shots into my neck, trying to grab the best blood cells possible. They bend and unbend my backwards knee, examining every part of my body, trying to understand how I had the DNA of a harpy eagle inside of me.

To tell you the truth, I don't even know.

I don't remember not having these grey and black wings. I don't remember not having large, pale talons that replace my feet. I don't remember not having a second eyelid that blinks from the side, or the insane eyesight, or the vibrations I can feel every second of every day...

How long is a day again?

There is no sun. There is no sky. Time does not exist here, at least not for me. Morning is signaled by the load of scientists entering my room and strapping me to the table to begin their poking, prodding, and scraping. Sometimes an occasional experiment. Noon signals the one meager meal they slide underneath my door. Night signals the lights in my room dimming and the camera lights flashing through the darkness.

Sometimes, I hear bits and pieces of conversation.

"Parents... genes... animals... more..."

But they leave before I can make sense of it all.

Some days, the scientists simply come in to poke, prod, and scrape, then they take refuge behind the thick, metal door and release the straps that restrain me to the table. Those are the good days.

Others aren’t as good.

Once, they brought in a python. It was humongous, almost 20 feet long, held by a leash through a hole in the door. It saw me, huddled in the corner, trying to get as far away from it as possible. Pythons were one of the few animals that were actually a threat to a harpy eagle, and the animal instinct in me went wild. Fly! Go to safety! Get out of here!

I wish I could.

I am not a murderer. I didn’t hurt anybody. So why am I here? Why do I have to live this life of loneliness and pain and suffering?

Are there others like me? Others, who struggle with their animal instinct? Others with wings like a bird or a tail like a fish or claws like a cat? If so, are they living a life of suffering? Poked, prodded, and scraped their entire lives? Or are they living a normal life, soaring through the air, able to see the sun and the sky and just be 

free…

One day, the scientists didn’t come. They didn’t enter the room with their white coats and tranquilizer guns to strap me to the table. The blinking camera lights stopped. Confused, I walked to the door and peered through the peek-hole. The cameras in the hall were shut down as well.

Is this another test? Are they trying to see what I would do if I had the chance of freedom?

I remembered the last time I failed one of their tests… my wings ached at the very thought.

I stopped, feeling a sudden vibration through the walls. I stood still and felt it again, this time stronger. 

“Come on, this way!”

Voices. People. They can save me, free me from this wretched nightmare…

No, that’s what they want. They want me to jump at the chance of freedom, to know what I would do so they can take the necessary measures to increase their security.

I can’t let them have that. 

“Hurry up! The cameras won’t be down for long.”

I return to my corner, wrapping myself in my wings. 

It’s not real… it’s not real… it’s not real…

I was startled by a sudden banging on the door. 

“Is anyone in there?!”

Eyes showed through the peek-hole, landing on me.

“We got one in here! Max, tear it down.”

The door was flown off its hinges, landing not 5 feet beside me. I cowered closer into my corner. It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real…

A gorilla burst into the room, followed by a boy with gold and green eyes, his orange tail and ears twitching with anticipation. His brown and red hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, his abnormally sharp fingernails glistening.

“Follow me!” the boy shouted, holding out his hand to me. I shook my head, curling my wings closer to my body.

“Come on, we don’t have much time!” he shouted, moving his hand closer. Before he could react, I raised my talons, leaving several scratch marks on his arm. He jerked his arm back, staring at the blood dripping off his arm.

“Hey, I’m trying to help you!” he shouted. “So are you going to come with us or just sit in the corner while this place burns to the ground?”

I hesitated. I could just barely smell smoke in the air… would the scientists really go this far for a test? I was just about to reach for his hand when a girl in a scientist coat walked into the room, holding a tranquilizer gun.

I flared my wings and screeched, a sound a harpy eagle rarely makes. I knew it, I knew it was a test, and now that they saw what I was about to do…

“Liz, you’re scaring her!” shouted the gorilla. “And take off the coat, you don’t need it anymore.”

“Well, too bad if I’m scaring her, Max,” retorted Liz, her bright blue eyes glaring at me. “The building is coming down. We gotta get out of here, NOW!”

The boy turned to the gorilla. “Just grab her and go!”

The gorilla made their way towards me, but I flared my wings again and lifted my talons, prepared to strike. I felt a small pin-prick of pain on my arm. It slowly became numb, spreading to the rest of my body, fogging up my brain.

“Liz!” shouted the boy. Everything sounded far away, as if underwater. “You didn’t have to tranquilize her!”

“Do you want to make it out of here alive or not?!” screamed Liz. I could feel my body being lifted off the ground and placed on a large, hairy shoulder.

“Are the others on the boat?” shouted the boy as we ran through the burning building. 

“Yes, they’re on the boat. Now let’s get out of here before- watch out!”

Wood crumbled all around us as the ceiling gave out. I heard a grunt before I was thrown off the hairy shoulder and onto the cold, hard floor. I tried to get up, but my muscles were too weak. I could barely hear Liz shouting before a large piece of wood from the ceiling landed on me and everything went dark...