I Am Afraid To Get Used To This

The door opened quickly and abruptly. There was no knock. No one entered with a warning. A woman and a man in gray, equally formal clothes crossed the threshold without saying a word. Their faces expressed neither fatigue, nor interest, nor irritation. They did not look at Omega as a person, did not seek contact with him, did not expect his participation.

The woman approached first. Without permission, and especially without a request, she lifted his hand, examined his joints, turned his wrist, checked his pulse. The movements were precise. The man, standing next to her, took out a small smooth object, some kind of device with a barely noticeable light along the edges. He brought it to Omega's neck, held it for a few seconds and removed it without commenting on the result.

Omega did not recoil, but froze. He waited for an explanation, although he did not expect to receive one. He saw that both people in the room were not going to talk to him, were not expecting questions and were not ready for a dialogue.

"Who are you?" he asked quietly. "Why are you here?"

No one reacted. Not a look, not a gesture.

The woman checked the condition of the skin on her forearms, then on her legs. Her fingers were cold, her movements were confident. She touched old bruises, recently appeared traces of pressure. Recorded. Moved to the next part of the body. The man now held a thin object in his hand, similar to a plate, and activated it near Omega's heart. The light intensified, then went out. He silently handed the device to his partner.

"I'm fine," Omega said a little louder. "I don't need help."

They continued to perform their tasks. No words. No reactions.

One of them placed a small rectangle on the nightstand - a smooth plate with a silver strip. The second activated it by pressing. A weak bluish light appeared. Omega didn't know what it meant. No one had given him an explanation. But he hoped it was a routine medical examination. Before the sale, he had been examined with similar devices. So the worry about his life quickly disappeared.

But still, the question "Why do you need my body?" did not disappear.

After some time, he realized that the examination was over, when both of them took a step back and headed for the exit. They moved just as quickly, without unnecessary movements, did not exchange remarks, did not glance at each other or at him. They just left.

He remained in the room. The silence did not change. Nothing was discharged inside. He felt heaviness in his shoulders and head. It was not pain, but a presence left after their touches.

He did not feel sick, but after their examination, he no longer felt like himself.

He sat down on the edge of the bed without fear and looked ahead. His gaze did not linger on anything, because everything here looked clean, ordered, and there was nothing personal in this order.

He wanted water. There was no point in talking about it - there was no one left in the room who could hear. And yet, as soon as the thought took shape, a sound was heard in the air. It was not loud. It was a click, followed by movement.

One of the cabinets built into the wall moved. The panel, which had previously seemed decorative, moved to the side. Dishes appeared on a sliding platform. The serving was precise: white ceramics, cutlery, a glass pitcher of water, steaming bowls, food that he could recognize - a salad with rubies, meat, stewed vegetables, bread. Everything looked fresh. Everything was warm. Everything was laid out correctly.

And what he liked yesterday.

He did not understand how it happened. No hands, no smell of cooking, not a single sound from the kitchen. Only the result. He did not believe in magic. Until now.

He did not stand up immediately. He looked at the table as if it were an object that could disappear if he approached it. But the platform did not disappear. The steam above the food was still rising. The jug did not stop shining, and the mechanism did not retract.

He approached with all caution, like a small rabbit. There was a lack of air inside, not so much from fear, but from tension that had no form. He reached out and touched the glass. It was cool. He poured water. He drank with all caution and pleasure of the cold liquid flowing down his throat. He tried not to spill a single drop.

He could not explain a single detail of what was happening.

He sat down at the table. The cutlery was laid out precisely, the food was delicious. Not surprisingly delicious - but rich, satisfying, prepared with a precise calculation for his needs. Not heavy, not disgusting. He ate silently, unhurriedly. He had no appetite, but his body accepted the food, and with each sip the tension in his body weakened.

He felt his stomach filling up, his muscles clenching, the warmth returning to his palms. There was no satisfaction. But there was relief.

He put the spoon down, exhaled slowly, ran his hand over the tabletop. And suddenly he realized that the worst thing about this was not that he didn't know who had arranged it and how, or how they had read his thoughts... he had no desire to resist.

He looked at the table setting. The table was perfect.

And then he thought:

"I'm afraid to get used to this."

A new day was beginning outside. The light, soft and even, was already falling on the edge of the windowsill, slowly filling the room. The air was changing - it was not getting warmer, but the heaviness of the night was disappearing from it. Sounds could be heard in the distance - unclear, muffled, perhaps the movements of the guards, perhaps the morning preparations. The castle was waking up. Slowly, without fuss, but not without presence.

He did not look directly at the window. He simply knew that it was morning outside, and it was happening independently of him. The day was beginning, even if he did not know what it would bring. Even if this day would be the last. Or would be the first in something he could not yet understand.

He sat in silence. Nothing else was happening in the room. The mechanism with the table suddenly disappeared, the platform went back, as if it had never been there. Again, only he and these walls.

He felt his body become lighter, but not freer. Everything that surrounded him was still not his. He didn't know who he belonged to, why he was allowed to live, what was expected of him, or where the line was between safety and preparation for something new.

And yet, there was a thought inside him that he couldn't push away.

He was grateful that he could face the morning without even knowing what tomorrow would bring.