Light. Bright, aggressive, annoying light.
Noah blinked, shielding his eyes with his forearm. He was back in his room. On his cushion. The fake window was projecting a cheery scene of sparrows fighting over a crust of bread.
He sat up. His head felt light, empty, like a balloon floating on a string. There was no pain. No fear. In fact, there wasn't much of anything.
"Wakey, wakey!" the intercom chirped. "The sun is up, and so are the expectations!"
Noah rubbed his face. He felt... fine. Rested, even.
What day is it? he wondered, scratching his head. Does it matter? The Purr-sident needs me. I have a job. I am a good pet.
He stood up and stretched, feeling his joints pop. He looked at his food bowl. It was empty. A pang of hunger hit him, simple and uncomplicated.
"Time to work," he said to himself, smiling. "Get the treats. Chase the dot."
He walked toward the door, ready to start the day.
Scritch.
His foot brushed against the wall near the floorboard. The carpet there was slightly uneven.
Noah stopped. A strange sensation tugged at his gut. Like he had walked out of the house and forgotten something important, but he couldn't remember what he owned.
He looked at the loose panel. Why is that there?
He knelt down. He didn't know why, but his heart started to beat faster. A rhythmic thumping that felt out of sync with his calm mind. He pried the panel open with a fingernail.
Inside, sitting in the darkness of the hollow wall, was a grey, smooth pebble.
Noah stared at it. It was just a rock. A stupid, grey rock.
He reached out to touch it.
As soon as his skin made contact with the cold stone, a jolt went through him. It wasn't a zap—not a painful glitch—but a steady, grounding hum. A vibration that traveled up his arm and slammed into his chest.
The smell of rain.
The rough wood of the Ark.
The sound of a little girl laughing.
My name is Noah.
The fog in his head didn't clear, but it thinned. It was like wiping a dirty window. He remembered the White Zone. He remembered the panic attack. He remembered Catherine's silk robe and the strawberry taste of defeat.
He clenched the pebble in his fist, squeezing it until the jagged edge dug into his palm. The pain was sharp. Real. It cut through the artificial happiness like a razor.
"I failed," he whispered, his voice changing from the high-pitched tone of a pet to the rough baritone of a man. "I took the pill because I was weak."
He closed his eyes. He could feel the drug trying to pull him back under, whispering that the rock was just a rock and he should go eat his salmon.
"I am Noah," he hissed through gritted teeth. "I am a father. And I am not done."
He slipped the pebble into his sock, pressing it against his ankle bone where he would feel it with every step. A constant reminder.
He stood up. He put on his mask—the wide eyes, the slumped shoulders, the vacuous smile.
"Coming, Mr. Purr-sident!" he called out cheerfully.
But as he walked out the door, his stride was heavy, and his mind was sharpening into a weapon.