Anomaly

The following minutes dragged on, filled with random conversations exchanged among the members of the anomaly response team. Naturally, I remained completely apart from them. They could barely bring themselves to look at my face; every expression carried an obvious discomfort, as if the mere presence of an anomaly—so close to them—weighed heavily in the air.
Noticing that, I limited myself to watching them in silence, listening to their voices overlapping in an awkward mess. At some point, they started ignoring me completely—not out of relief, but out of an almost desperate attempt to pretend everything was normal. A curious contrast, considering how, just moments earlier, they had recoiled under every glance I gave them.
Their conversations mostly revolved around work, the families they had left behind, and a few light jokes about whether they would make it back alive from this mission.
From the fragments I heard, some had children waiting for them at home, while others talked about promises made to someone special. I just listened quietly, observing each one of them. Maybe because I was staring so intently, their voices eventually started drifting toward me.
“Why is she looking at us like that? Did we... do something to piss her off?” one of the members muttered. His voice was so quiet that anyone else would’ve lost those words to the air—but for me, every syllable reached with perfect clarity.
“I don’t know... we were just making small talk, nothing serious. Did she take offense at something?” whispered the other member, leaning a bit closer. His voice barely rose above a nervous breath: “Honestly, she kind of unnerves me. It’s impossible to guess what’s going on in her head... and what if she just decides to attack us out of nowhere? Why the hell did management think it was a good idea to send us on a mission with her? And another thing: how come I’ve never seen her containment cell before?”
“Maybe she’s a new anomaly transferred from another facility?” another member murmured, slumping a bit more into his seat: “Man, I really hate this job. If the pay wasn’t as good as it is, I would’ve quit a long time ago. I hate how materialistic I am” His face twisted in a mix of frustration and self-pity as he spoke.
“Most of us are in the same boat... so why dwell on it?” another member said with a tired sigh, shrugging: “Truth is, almost everyone here does this job for their family. I’ve got two daughters, myself. The older one is getting married soon, and I promised her a seaside ceremony at one of the most expensive places in the world” He let out a short, almost bitter laugh: “I only accepted this mission because the organization offered to pay for the whole wedding—and with the bonus I’d get, I could even help her start her married life on the right foot. Of course... if I make it back alive, that’d be even better”
Their conversations bounced from topic to topic, but there was almost always a relaxed tone to them. In the end, it seemed clear that most of them stayed in that job for one simple reason: the ridiculously high salary.
None of them mentioned numbers—maybe out of protocol, maybe out of superstition—but from the comments alone, it was easy to tell they earned far more than mayors, high-level executives, or pretty much anyone with a prestigious position around the world.
As I remained distracted, only half-listening to the scattered conversation among the team members, Arthur—sitting beside me, calm as always—leaned in slightly and whispered in a soft, almost gentle tone: “They seem terrified of you”
I turned my eyes toward Arthur. He was wearing an amused smile. I just shrugged, resigned: (There’s not much I can do about that... They live surrounded by fear, dealing every day with the possibility of an anomaly killing them without warning. I don’t blame them for being afraid of me, too. If I were in their place, I’d probably feel the same)
Arthur remained quiet for a few seconds, his gaze drifting from one member of the response team to another. His cane spun slowly between his fingers, tapping out an almost imperceptible rhythm as he organized his thoughts.
Finally, he lifted his eyes and spoke with the calm voice of someone weighing each word carefully: “I imagine they’re afraid of you simply because they don’t know you yet. What do you think? Maybe it’s worth trying to talk to them—and if you do, try doing it in a way everyone can hear, not just individually”
I glanced sideways at Arthur, trying to decipher something in his expression as confusion churned inside me: (Why?)
Arthur only shrugged at my unspoken question, as if the answer didn’t carry much weight for him: “Who knows? But why not give it a try?” he said with an easy half-smile: “In the end, you don’t really have anything to lose”
In a way, he was right. I had never bothered talking to anyone outside my small circle of humans with whom I kept any sort of closeness—and that already said a lot. It wasn’t dislike, let alone hostility; I simply didn’t feel anything toward other people.
Even the scientists who constantly watched us, jotting down every movement as if we were pieces of an endless experiment, rarely got more than an absent-minded nod from me. I saw no purpose in interacting with them. There was no impulse, no curiosity, no need.
I nodded at Arthur’s suggestion while watching the team members chat among themselves, each wearing expressions that ranged from tiredness to curiosity to indifference.
But how was I supposed to even start the conversation? If I just spoke out of nowhere, wouldn’t I risk making them even more tense around me? Still, it’s not like I had many alternatives.
Trying to get their attention before speaking would only make things feel stranger — especially because, from their perspective, I’d be making completely random gestures. With that in mind, I took a deep breath and decided to wait for the right moment, looking for a natural opening to slip into the conversation without sounding abrupt or suspicious.
Luckily, the opportunity came sooner than I expected. One of the team members, his brow slightly furrowed in genuine curiosity, broke the silence: “By the way... we’ve been getting a lot of anomaly-response personnel these past few months. And all of them are veterans, people with decades of experience. I heard it has something to do with the lowest floor of the facility. So... what’s down there?” he asked, his voice low and cautious.
This was the moment I’d been waiting for. I could finally enter the conversation without sounding too suspicious. After all, they were already talking about me — or at least about what I was. I let out a small sigh, pushed my thoughts aside, and answered the man’s question with a voice quiet but steady: (I’m down there. My containment cell is on the lowest underground floor of the facility)
The conversation stopped instantly as my words echoed through the space. The response-team members looked around at each other, confused, then started turning their heads from side to side, clearly trying to pinpoint where the voice had come from.
Arthur, Rupert, and the other Arthur — who had also heard my comment — turned their attention to me. Victor glanced at me from the corner of his eye, arms crossed, maintaining his usual indifferent demeanor.
Rupert let out a faint, amused smile, tinged with calculated curiosity. And Arthur... well, he simply looked intrigued, as if eager to see where this conversation would go, like he was about to witness something unusual.
The response-team members seemed to finally realize where the voice had come from once their gazes converged on me. Since we’d entered the vehicle, it was the first time they stared at me with such intensity — a heavy, almost uncomfortable kind of attention.
A strange tightness formed in my chest; I wasn’t sure how to react without sparking even more suspicion or fear. So I just tilted my head in a hesitant greeting and murmured, trying to sound as harmless as possible: (I was the one who spoke to you... hello?)
They still didn’t reply. They didn’t seem to know how — and, in a way, they weren’t as terrified as I expected. They noticed that too, though none of them managed to comment on it.
For a moment, silence hung thick between us, until one of them, finally gathering whatever courage he had left, took a deep breath and broke the quiet with a slightly shaky voice.
“I’m not going to pretend to be brave here... I’m honestly terrified right now. This is — to be completely honest — really unsettling. But curiosity’s killing me, so I’ll ask anyway” He swallowed hard, voice trembling a little: “You... can you talk? I mean, actually speak? Using human language?”
I watched him silently for a few seconds; under my steady gaze, he shrank back slightly, as if expecting some kind of reprimand. I replied naturally, letting my intention project straight into his mind: (Not exactly. Instead of speaking, I just transmit my intentions. To you, it probably sounds like words, but it’s... slightly different. I’d say communicating through intent is much more practical, though I doubt humans could fully grasp how it works. Also, I’m pretty peaceful — I don’t harm humans unless they’re genuinely evil. You can relax)
I wasn’t sure if my words had actually convinced them. No one answered. The team members just exchanged looks in silence — and, to be fair, they seemed more lost than cautious, as if they didn’t know what the “correct” reaction to me was supposed to be.
From their perspective, it made sense: this was probably the first time they’d interacted with an anomaly that wasn’t actively trying to kill them.
Victor, who had been quiet until then, finally broke the silence: “Relax” he said, drawing everyone’s attention: “I pretty much live with this little thing twenty-four hours a day. She wouldn’t hurt a fly... unless the fly attacked her first. She’s completely harmless. Well, except for the appearance... and the fact that she could wipe you out of existence with a single breath” He raised his eyebrows with dry humor: “Other than that, she’s not all that different from us”
Some team members swallowed hard; others just looked away, unsure if they were supposed to laugh or panic. The tension in the air eased a little, though not enough for anyone to seem truly comfortable.
Rupert, having heard Victor’s comments, let out a short, muffled laugh, trying to hide it as he turned away. It was obvious he was struggling not to burst out laughing — even his shoulders trembled slightly. Still, doing his best to stay composed, he said: “Man... if you keep talking like that, you’re only going to make them more scared of her”
Victor shrugged, feigning indifference. Even so, his expression faltered for an instant — a brief flicker that anyone less attentive would’ve missed. The comment had definitely gotten to him, even if he tried to hide it.
As we continued talking, the constant hum of the engines filled the background. Then one of the other response-team members, after taking a breath like someone bracing for something huge, spoke up in a timid voice: “So... what exactly are you?”
I blinked my large golden eyes as I pondered his question. He wanted to know what species I was... or something like that? Technically, I was one of the pillars sustaining the universe itself — a detail that definitely wouldn’t go over well here.
So I chose something simpler, more digestible. I tilted my head slightly, as if searching for the right word, and answered with the obvious response they were expecting: (An anomaly...)