Loving the Alien - a teaspoon story

09:00

Here come the white men.

First they prod, then they nod, and then they’ll go again.
They have faces inside their fishbowls. I know what a face looks like because I have a mirror. I have a face, too.

The things you can learn from a book nowadays.

09:30

Here comes the food. Here come the white men who do not prod, but burn the sheets and put on crisp new ones. I sit in the corner as ordered. I am good. (Aren’t I?) I watch as they spray harsh smells on my things. I eat the food. I don’t like eating the food because it always tastes the same even when it comes in different forms, but they don’t like it if I don’t eat at all. I eat to soothe them. (Yes, see, I scooped it all up, spoon for spoon, I have brought it all to my mouth and chewed and swallowed it, it is okay. It’s all okay. You can go.)

When they burn the sheets they also burn the books and the teddy bear. It is no matter: they are replaced every day with the exact same ones.
It still matters.

13:00

Then they bring more food. I do not know why. If it’s a peace offering for burning my stuff, then they could’ve done better.
While I eat again (it’s really all okay) they prod some more and use needles and there are pills next to my plastic cup that I am supposed to swallow (but not bite, never bite, because then my mouth will be bitter for the rest of the day and they will just give me more).
When they leave, I rub the place on my arm where they poked until the scab comes off. I gather a drop of blood on my index finger. I draw a teddy with a frown in my book. I get the eyes wrong.
It is no matter; it will be replaced tomorrow.
It still matters.

14:23

I go to the large mirror and press my mouth against it, as if my room was a water basin and the mirror the surface. Little condensation clouds appear on the glass. I trail my fingers in them. Now that’s what you call temporary art.
I wonder what the biggest condensation cloud is that I can manage.

It is three hands with spread out fingers big. Then it gives up and curls back in on itself.

17:00

Here comes the blue man. He makes gestures through his gloves and does a lot of nodding when I copy them. He bores me. (Yes, traveling, and this one means turtle swimming. I can do this. Look how smart I am. All because of you. Aren’t you proud with how far you’ve come with me? And this one is new, I only learnt it yesterday, but see, I still remember! Isn’t that exciting?)
I am always glad to see the blue man gone. Fuck off, I gesture.


21:00

Lights out.