It's been a long time, hasn't it? You have reached a new era in your life, 709, one that you would never recover from. You'll never turn back to what you have been back then. You are a Guardian now. The words kept lingering in his mind as he woke up from his nap. It was dark in his chamber. The water from the exposed pipe was dripping loudly somewhere in the halls, it wasn't important to him right now. It was almost 10 PM, they were already asleep, but he was still staring at the screen, doubting something. It was his usual routine - "Why am I doing this? Why should I watch them?". There were no humans anymore. Only the tubbies, controlling one another to keep up the population going. "But then why this testing? Aren't we living decently enough?": it was that doubt that always persisted in his mind ever since he got his role from The Coat Men. One tubby in a laboratory coat smiled at him and gave him the papers - Tinky Winky, Dipsy,Laa Laa and Po. "You are going to be responsible for Main Land #1!" They shouted the words like it was a celebration, but 709 was confused. "Supervising Teletubbies just like me?" - he never got his answers. He was there on his chair, looking at the shut down monitors. He knew they were asleep. He didn't need to see them do it. The sound of the water dripping irritated him, it wouldn't allow him to rest properly, but he was too tired and cold to check what the issue was. He was never told he also had to fix the broken parts of the area, he didn't know how anyway. He was a guard and that's all he knew. That's how he was gonna die and let the others take the place after him. Drip. Drip. Drip. He had no choice but to check. He stood up, feeling tense all of a sudden. It felt like he was seeing something or someone in the dark, there, standing, looking at him. It was at the end of the hall, close to one of the walls. Drip. Drip. Drip. He wasn't scared, instead he was confused. Why would a worker be here, at this hour? The Coat Men barely visited him so why would anyone else even lay their leg on this land? It was freezing in here. The creature rushed out of the hallway and went to The Metro Station. A sudden bang was heard, like they hit something on their way there. 709 was worried that they got severely hurt, but he heard the buzzer meant to call the subway train. "So they are safe after all..." He thought. Drip. Drip. Drip. He went to the area the being was in a few moments ago and saw some blood. There were blood on the pipes and on the floor. Blood. Fresh Blood. The water kept dripping from one of the upper pipes. He understood the issue he had to solve was completely different from what he thought. And though he knew he couldn't fix it, who would've done it? The Coat Men? They never cared about answering his questions - "Why am I doing this?" and the one that made them wince at him - "What are you trying to achieve with this?". "We aren't doing anything bad to them! You can trust us, 709." And then, they would leave. Did they even think about how cold it was in here? It was the questions that made them abandon him. He could tell, they were only forcing themselves to see him now - to meet a quota he didn't have access to. They were just like him so why weren't they his...? A droplet fell on his nose. The cold pierced him. The reality he was in made him realize that he had no saying in any of this. The pipe was what he should focus on now. He noticed the slightly crooked pipe in the darkness. "This shouldn't be hard..." He arranged some of the boxes in the hall to climb up and touch the metallic objects in there. It was a whole system up above, something he never messed around with until now. He didn't even know how the pipe was close to falling from there. It was good that, at least, they were holding the water well and didn't have holes in them. He arranged it back. No more dripping. He left the crates where they were beforehand and went down, now he could rest, finally. The air grew colder. The blood was still there - he didn't hallucinate after all. "Was that person hurt?" He saw no signs of organic matter in there, no knife, no signs of a struggle. "But why did they come here, in this cold area?", it would've been more damaging to their body. He couldn't ask them anything now, they were gone, only their blood is there and he had to wipe it off. He wouldn't want The Coat Men to think one of the inmates escaped and he had to kill them. He grabbed one of the rags he had in his chamber and cleaned the spots. He wouldn't want it to completely stain the area in there. Would've made his successors uncomfortable. The time was 11 PM. He didn't think an hour passed just for him to do three things only. Did he stand there for too long? Did he try to sleep for too long, despite knowing well he wasn't gonna get any sleep? He felt anxious, thinking about that. He sat down on his mattress and remained silent for a bit. He needed to rest. It would be better off for his health after all. It was his only choice now, but something still made him feel tense - maybe he didn't check his pin board like he normally does each night? He didn't try to rise up again, his body felt too heavy - he only stared at the notes he took with time. About the experiments. About The Coat Men. About everyone. The pins were on his walls now, too, and yet, his chamber wasn't disorganized. Only his walls were full of his paranoia. The fridge was in the corner, next to the pin board. Silent, as usual. He had nothing on it, though he knew his co-workers would put magnets on them. He wasn't feeling hungry whatsoever, but the fridge was still there, staring at him. It felt like the walls were glancing at him, too. They hoped he had a new idea to cover up the walls. There were none for today. He grabbed his coverlet and laid down on the mattress. His room was lighter now. The rocks of the walls were uneven. They were hard to walk on, at first, his feet hurt when he would step on the floor, but 709 got used to them, despite his weight. He touched them and felt the cold again. It was always cold in here, but he got used to that, too. Even his mattress was cold each time he laid his body on it, it wasn't comforting - it was something he didn't like much despite all the years he had been in here. Now, it was warm still, he kept laying on it, silent. He didn't want to leave it and let it be cold again. He didn't even know what hour it was. He never knew when he woke up. Today, he didn't want to do his job. He wanted to keep the cameras off for a day and think about what bothered him more. He stood up silently and, taking a marker he had on his table, he looked through the pin board's notes more carefully. "What is beyond the sea?" The thought struck him. He already knew what was after the mountain area. He had gone to the Satellite Station before - he had seen the Blue Workers a few times when he needed to. It was never for anything serious. Daily checkup, making sure they were doing their job. They were just as cheerful as the experiments he maintained each day on camera. They would always be on screens, just like him, typing things or trying to repair broken items from the experiments - the flashlights they had, the saws, the hammers, the wrenches and so on. He didn't know why they would need them - they didn't even know how to repair the machine that would feed them each day. The Blue Workers were responsible for that, too. They maintained the electricity, even the connection between the cameras and his monitor. He never got access to the cameras from the area beyond the mountains, but it didn't matter to him much. It would've been more costly - he thought. But the sea...? The sea... It could've been a big lake for all he knew, but who would know that? He was the only person responsible for this area, his superiors definitely knew more about it, but he couldn't ask them nor its predecessors. He didn't know who administered this area before him. But if it were a lake... He heard some noises behind him. It was one of the more recent Coat Men that came in the area. The only friendly person from the rest, they visited him more often and kept checking up on him. "Good morning, 709." They murmured, in trance with the notes that were scattered around his chamber's walls. "Are you doing alright? Did you sleep well?" "Good morning." He replied as he kept staring at the walls, now ashamed of what he had written in there. He noticed his unintelligible writing and the inconsistency in his ideas. "I slept well, though this place is too cold." "We were planning to install some heaters here." The tubby reassured him as they looked at 709. "I am sorry we kept you in this cold cave for ages." "It's not your fault, I already know that." He blurred out as he finally looked back at them. "Right..." They murmured as they came across some unwiped blood. He thought he cleaned it off well. "I came here for a new reason - about the person you saw last night. You haven't noticed who it was?" "No." 709 said, interested in the conversation now. He went closer to the lab coat-wearing tubby. They were analyzing the spot like they were investigating a crime scene. "I figured." They stood up and glanced at him, kindly. They pulled out a notebook from their pocket, placed it on one of the boxes and started writing. "That's why I wanted to help you, White." No one called him that way before. The silence grew colder. They were still writing things in the measly little papers, it amazed 709 to see someone write anything on that tiny thing. It looked quite dirty, too, like it had been carried in all sorts of areas. It only made him wonder how they didn't run out on pages already. He stood there, not knowing what to say. He didn't understand the sudden questions, the "help" they wanted to provide to him...until... "Are you trying to fake the interrogation?" He asked, slightly irritated. "How would that help you?" But the tubby only smiled at him for a bit and went back to writing more made up answers. "They already expect the fact that I wouldn't know anything..." But they didn't say a word, they were too focused on the papers. Seeing them write with a pen all those lies made 709 feel a little powerless. Of all things, they would want to help him this way? It felt irrational. He knew that there was a solution for this, The Coat Men couldn't be this dumb. The air grew thicker, colder. He barely noticed how truly cold it was in there. He glanced at the area around him and noticed the ice that was forming around some of the pipes. Was it always this cold and he never noticed it before? It made him worry, all of this was making him anxious about what could happen, especially to the tubby that was in front of him. Why would they lie about him...? "They don't trust you, White." The tubby finally said and clicked the pen. They put back their stationery in their lab coat's pocket and then looked at him, their glare this time being more serious than before. Even then, he could tell there was still some kindness left in their eyes. "You'll understand why I am doing all of this one day." The cryptic answer made his chest feel heavy. The cold was really getting to him now. They pulled away their coat and gave it to him. "Wear it for now, I will get you something next time. It's too cold in here." The gesture sure felt nice, if only The Coat Men would've done this in his first few years of being here. The tubby in front of him was a new worker, they started their job a few weeks ago, but, even despite their lackluster work experience, they seemed quite intelligent, at least he thought until now. He took the coat and the two went back to his chamber, though it wasn't any warmer in there. "I wanted to ask you..." The light gray furred tubby started their sentence as they rubbed their chin. "...about those notes you have in here." They pointed with their finger to the sticky notes that were scattered on the walls. "Those are questions I had related to my job, things that your co-workers never answered to." 709 answered as the two stared at the wall. The writing looked like it was that from a desperate person. He started to be less fond of them than he used to. "I never noticed them, it seems..." They remarked as they went closer to inspect them better. "But you know..." They picked one of the colored papers and tried to read its contents. It was only in this moment that 709 realized that his heart was beating really fast. He never felt this way before - he felt pure shame, he could already imagine the email he would get from his superiors just because of this. The air was even colder now, it felt like he was going to faint right there, in the cold. The tubby was still staring at the notes, pleased with themselves oddly enough. 709 tried to grab onto the notebook the tubby had with them, just to feel anything with him so he wouldn't faint, while they were still looking at it. It felt like it was going on for too long, but he didn't want to utter any words - he felt like he had no control over this situation. Suddenly, the tubby glanced at him and smiled. "I can answer all your questions." They mumbled.
One month before the infection. 709 was not really fond of his weekend. Typically, during weekends, The Elite Workers can spend their time in the underground city. It was where they lived after all. However, 709, was not really a big fan of this. It meant hearing the loud cheerfulness of the city, which he was never fond of. This time, he was practically forced to go there due to the higher ups. It was only one email and he already knew it was not gonna end well for him if he did not comply. The Underground City was nothing special. It was a zone separated in 6 sections: The Bedrooms, The Cafeteria, The Infirmary, the empty space between those areas that became the Living Room for some, the Metro Station and the Emergency Area where they had specific tools meant for specific emergencies. Nobody went there, ever. It looked intimidating with its metal doors and its sign ***EMERGENCY*** written in a striking black font. 709 sometimes wondered what could be in that zone. "What if it does not help us when we are close to dying just like them?" He thought. There were no humans anymore. Only the tubbies, controlling one another to keep up the population going. He always thought about things like those and they would manifest in his dreams, too. As he made his way through the not so empty halls, he noticed just how many Guardians were around, talking, babbling on and on about things he would have never cared about. He managed to get into his bedroom without much inconvenience. He had no friends, and he was glad he was alone with his thoughts, rather than talking to someone, hiding his worries about the life he is living in. His room was barely decorated, but still organized. He had a small collection of peculiar objects he found once in a while during his usual schedule. They were in the drawers of his desk. He had another table in his kitchen, the room he used more frequently than going to the cafeteria. He opened the desk's drawers, looking through the stuff he found. They were quite dusty, after all, he came here very rarely. A lot of them were mostly junk that nobody would've cared about except for him. Chips, bits of machinery parts, things that he thought he should've never found in their underground city. "What could this even be used for?" He asked himself, feeling a bit perplexed by the shapes of the objects he found. He never really got the chance to create anything with them. He had no tools to help him with it, not like he even cared about doing something like that. He placed the parts in the drawers again after much inspection. He still liked them, that's why he didn't throw them away. "Sometimes, not all things need utility." He thought. He entered the kitchen. It was empty, like always, just a lone table, some stoves, a light source, a fridge, some kitchen drawers and a balcony. He lived on the 6th floor. He wondered how it was possible for the underground city to be this huge. The building he was in was quite tall, morbidly tall, attached to the ceiling of the underground city. He could easily touch it with his hand if he wanted to. He wanted to warm up some instant food. Though he was good at cooking with fresh ingredients, he always bought instant food that he would keep for months until the higher ups told him to come back to the city. This wasn't his first time doing this. It was all he ate now. He didn't have the motivation to try those recipes he had in his drawers. A cup of noodles would do. The microwave was spinning it lightly and he kept staring at it, his mind was completely blank. He didn't have any thoughts, they were all gone. He didn't realize how hungry he was until the cup was empty. He practically finished it before it could properly cool down. The shrimp flavor was now persistent in his mouth, but that didn't bother him much, unlike the burning sensations that he had on his tongue. He still had a few hours to kill. It was only 2 PM, but he didn't know what to do at this hour other than to reminiscent over the strange objects he found...or the encounter he had last week. They never gave him the answers he wanted. He thought he wouldn't meet that person ever again. He didn't know who to ask; it would've been more suspicious if he suddenly asked about one of his superior's whereabouts. One thing he knew about his co-workers is that they weren't really fond of their superiors. Even now he didn't understand why, because, though they may have ignored his questions for years, they didn't treat him as badly as the others had said. They would whisper a lot about The Coat Men, always weary of what they might do next. The thought reminded him again of the discussion he had back then. This was one of the few times that happened, but to promise the answers that he always wanted - that seemed so out of touch with the life he had to deal with. He remained silent in the kitchen, feeling stressed. What would they even answer? This was too important for him to ignore so he decided to write it in his journal. His last entry was one year ago. He only wrote 10 pages. He never cared about it much, he thought it was only meant for important things. He didn't want to check what he wrote back then - it was better to forget about it now. As he wrote his thoughts, he felt his hand aching. His writing was already terrible, but pairing that with his joint pain as soon as he would try to write anything - it wasn't motivating him to continue his archiving. And yet, he still enjoyed it, though he did it rarely. There was no purpose behind his activity, other than enjoyment. He didn't consider that to be a solid reason for his journaling though. "Maybe it's because I want the future generations to know what happened here?" He considered, but he figured they would be living outside by that point. They weren't going to live in those bunkers for ages. He wrote 20 pages. As he placed his pen on the table, he started to re-read what he had just wrote. He noticed that he noted even the least important things - what he thought about the experiments, about his job, about The Coat Men, about the Blue Workers, about the answers he will never be given... when all he could've done is talk about that tubby who made blank promises to him. He didn't bother to erase everything he had just written. Maybe one day... they could serve as a bitter memory. He checked the clock he had on the table. He still had so much to do. He thought maybe reading some books could help, though he only had 3. He knew he was gonna get tired of them easily. He stumbled upon them randomly while doing his job. Sometimes, he would read them, sometimes, he would stop reading midway and put it back so he can start them all over again. It was a monotonous activity that, one way or another, kept him alive. Made his brain work just for a tiny bit and, yet, he wasn't in the mood to do that now. He sat on his mattress and stared at the ceiling. "Why did they tell me such lies?" He thought. It kept bothering him. There were nights where he could barely sleep because of it. He didn't think such a stupid sentence would make him so... weary of the environment he was in. It felt like they would pop out any second now and bring him to a place he will never leave from. He knew nobody would care about his death, but he wanted to, at least, leave a trace before his death, to let people know why he died rather than to go missing and all of that to be left as a mystery. He kept hearing people talking outside. He kept hearing the subway train moving here and there. Everything around him felt so dull. Everything about him felt so boring. He was going to die just like that, just like the people before him... Even if he was a coat man, it wouldn't change anything. He would have to keep secrets from people, he didn't want that. He didn't want to live in a life where he was lied to all the time. He was living in a lie and nobody was going to save him from it; he has no friends, who would care about a puny, chubby being like him? He was selfish, always entitled for answers that his superiors would keep from him so he wouldn't die. What would the truth even do for him? He was going to bear it forever, what happiness would it bring for him? He would only chase after another thing that wouldn't please him. He was going to die, chasing things forever in his already diminishing life. He didn't want that. He didn't want to live. Now it was time to sleep, but 709 was still not in the mood for it. He knew he could do something else at this hour other than ruminating over unbaked thoughts. It was still 9 PM, he had one more hour to do something, though he didn't know what that something could be. He went outside of his dorm into the halls, thinking that maybe a night walk could help, but then, he noticed them. That same tubby who made the blank promises to him, he blinked and blinked again. They lived next door and he had never known that until now. "I am glad I got to see you today." They smiled brightly at him, which confused the white tubby. "I thought we wouldn't meet again for a while." "But how come we're neighbors and yet..." 709 asked, feeling empty. Of all the people he had met in his life, they were the most normal one, though also the most mysterious one of them all, because he never knew or understood their intentions. A Coat Man to visit him daily and talk to them about all sorts of things, not just about their job confused him. It felt like they had more insidious intentions. But they still smiled at him, he didn't know if it was genuine or them trying to hide the truth from him. 709 would never know. "Earth to White!" The tubby exclaimed, slightly annoyed by his sudden loss of reality. "And here I thought you were listening to what I had to say...oh...I am sorry." "Why apologize?" 709 asked, confused. "Making a ruckus here won't help. We can do it somewhere else." The tubby stated as they made their way to the stairs. "Let's talk in a more private area." "Right..." He mumbled to himself as he followed them. He soon realized the sheets of paper that they were carrying in their hand. From being just a daily visitor, now they have become a subject of interest to 709. To promise unrealizable things as a superior who was already keeping so many secrets away from him, it felt like a paradox to him. And yet, unlike the others, he still had a bit of faith in them. They were friendlier than the rest, that was the only reason - a shallow one. "And why are you here, walking so late at night?" 709 asked as he felt the slightly cold air of the darkened underground city. The lights would be turned off around that time, they had to carry any sources of light with them - in their case, flashlights. "Oh, some job related things...and it's not like I can tell you anything about them!" The Coat Man chuckled, but he wasn't amused by their response. "Then what are those things you promised to me?" He asked, slightly irritated now. "Just say I can go home and never think of it again." "Right." The tubby sighed as they reached the Metro Station. "It was all a matter of not being listened to, White." The answer confused him. "You see... I can't do it now. It's not the right time. More like...I can't answer all your questions right away." "So should I be going home?" 709 mumbled under his breath, feeling tense while glaring at the laboratory worker in front of him. They were looking through the sheets, verifying their contents. He wanted to grab them and see what they were reading for himself, but he knew that would violate the rules of the workplace. He didn't want to get in bigger trouble now. "I am sorry that I made you so stern, White." They sighed as they put the papers on a nearby bench. "You can ask me 3 questions today and I will answer them...as long as they aren't related to the Coat Men." They winked, trying to sound playful, but 709 was getting more infuriated than before until he realized he should calm down. After taking some breaths, he showed the Coat Man to let him think for a while, so they did. He didn't know if they were in a hurry so he wanted to be more polite, knowing the situation he was in. He wouldn't want to bite the hand that is feeding him in that moment. He started to think about what bothered him the most at the start of his career - about the experiments, about the area he was administrating, about the Blue Workers and what was beyond his area. And even though he knew he had 3 questions only, he felt like asking only one. "Please ask me strictly 3 questions. I would be happier to answer all of them like I promised." They added. "Wouldn't want to leave you with unanswered questions." 709 scratched his chin and turned his body to face the tubby in front of him. They were still smiling, kindly. "What is beyond the Mainland I am managing right now?" 709 asked in a grave tone. "Well, that huge mass of water is, in fact, a sea and beyond the Satellite Station you have dry lands. It's easy to anything in there from afar." The Coat Man smiled and took some notes in their notebook again. "Second question." "Why was I given this place?" He continued, feeling slightly relieved. The answers seemed reasonable, not like actual made up lies on the spot. The air they gave off seemed trustworthy - he thought. "Pure coincidence. We never pick tubbies because of specific reasons. We only determine which Main lands they should administer based on where they are situated; we wouldn't want them moving from north to south." Another reasonable answer; though, it made him slightly worried now. What if it was all calculated? "Last question before I head out." They were still smiling, oddly enough. It only made 709 more weary. "Do the Coat Men know about our meetings?" He blurted it out as he pointed his thumb towards them. After all, they didn't have hands like humans did - the rest of their fingers were united. "They don't. If they did, you wouldn't be seeing me right here, right now." His mind was aching. He only realized just now he wouldn't get to see papers they had with them ever again, but it was too much to ask now. He would have to ruminate over another unbaked thought for hours on end. "That's it for today. Thanks for your questions." Their smile toned down as they picked up the papers and pressed the buzzer behind them. "Good night, sleep well!" He didn't know the trains would work so late at night. It only made him more weary about the situation he was getting into. "Good night..." He whimpered as he went back to his dorm. Now he felt like he was gonna lose it all over again.
He woke up. The fake lights were too strong for him, sometimes they would keep them low, sometimes they would be too bright. They never had a proper regime. He realized his head was heavy after what happened that night. He hadn't been outside for 2 days. The papers... The papers kept appearing in his mind and, yet, he had forgotten everything he had thought of until now. His mind seemed calmer now; he had to eat something. He had already noted what happened 2 days ago, he did it as soon as he came back home that day. And after that, his memory went blank. At least he didn't have to worry about that. In this state of mind, he would have written 100 pages of him mopping about nothing. He wanted the journal to be realistic, not belletristic. He went to the kitchen and found a sandwich in the fridge to warm up. His food stock seemed to be lower than usual. He didn't pay it any mind, he just wanted to eat. He put the food in the microwave and let it rotate again while he was staring at the window. The lights have been dimmed, it was more tolerable to see what was outside. There were a few plastic plants here and there, people had the courtesy to wipe them of dust once in a while. You could tell they were spotless from the 6th floor, it seemed. It was 8 AM. There was no Guardian outside; quite unusual for that hour. He was used to the chit chatter, it reminded him of the sound of birds, chirping to one another, speaking of secrets he would never know. But today, there were no birds; he only imagined the sound of words spoken out loud and laughter. As much as he hated the noise, it was manageable. Knock. Knock. 709 was startled by the sound - his front door was being knocked out. Why? Who? Nobody did that ever to him. He sighed and immediately went to check who the person was. He wouldn't want to keep them waiting for long; maybe it was the Coat Men coming after him? And there stood the tubby he had seen 2 days ago, carrying more papers than last time. They seemed in a great mood unlike him. The microwave beeped, but he didn't even notice the sound. He was more interested in the tubby in front of him. "You look worse than before..." The Coat Man gave them a reassuring look that unfazed 709. "Come with me." He only nodded and followed the laboratory worker to the Metro Station, just like last time. "You...go there during mornings and nights?" That's what 709 wanted to ask, but he felt like he shouldn't take his chance. He was gonna have 3 more questions to ask again; he had more important things to know than their schedule. The tubby was walking slower than last time, almost like they weren't worried about someone catching them together. It made the white Guardian a tad bit worried about what could happen next. At the Metro Station, the tubby sat down on the bench and started looking through the papers, making tiny faces once in a while like they were reading a book. He didn't know the contents of the pages yet again, but he realized he wouldn't have known about that day's sheets either - the question was related to the Coat Men. It would violate what the light gray furred being told him. For once, he analyzed the appearance of the tubby in front of him, other than their fur color - their facial skin was close to paper white, like they haven't been outside whatsoever, unlike him, and their eyes were a gentle gray, with brown on the middle. It was heterochromia - he realized. Even despite their grayish eyes, they still looked hopeful and optimistic, compared to 709's dark, soulless eyes. He would barely check himself in the mirror, as long as he washed himself once in a while, he was good to go. The tubby had a pleasant smell coming from them, though he couldn't tell what it was; all he could note was that it seemed persistent and...cold. "Reviewing is done." The tubby smiled and put their pencil in their pocket."3 questions and a bonus one about the Coat Men." "A bonus one...?" 709 asked, confused. "Why...?" "I noticed you kept eyeing the papers, but didn't ask me any questions about it so..." They patted the papers that were left on the bench. "I wanted to be a little nice!" They were talking with their playful tone again. He was unfazed, just like last time. "So which one will it be? The Coat Men first, or the general ones?" "But didn't I ask you a question related to the Coat Men back then? Why did you even answer it?" White asked, irritated. "Knowing if your meetings are private information is important information, even if it is related to the Coat Men." They answered as they rubbed their chin. "You signed this imaginary contract with me so I wouldn't want to be too strict with you now..." "Eh..." 709 muttered as he looked around the area. Empty. "Why didn't you state this information before I started asking then?" "I was just curious about how you act, when you ask your questions in person..." The Coat Man replied. They knew what he had written on the notes so it made him feel more confused about the person he was talking to just now. "Why are the Blue Workers outside? They are responsible for the maintenance of the Main Land and, yet, are treated just like the experiments..." 709 asked, concerned. It felt odd asking about someone else, but it still seemed important to him. He didn't like the fact that they were forced to be outside too, despite how important they were for his job. "Hm...Well, they are treated as lower class. Only during emergencies they are allowed to leave the Main land." The answer confused the white furred Guardian. Of all things, he would expect them to be in the bunker with them, not out in danger. But he knew he couldn't ask more about them, he would've wasted his chances, considering the situation he was in. "Thanks..." 709 started playing with his hands, anxiously, as he thought of what to say next. The teletubby in front of him seemed patient, calmer than before. They nodded at his thanks happily. "Were they not in a hurry?" he wondered, but that didn't matter much to him now. He had to ask his next question: "Why can't we let the experiments see us?" "They are experiments. Letting them know they are experiments would create an unfavorable environment, unfortunately." They explained as they shuffled through the papers again. "Not like they will treat you nicely if they knew what you did to them for such a long time." "Because I was forced to..." 709 muttered, irritated. "Such aspects don't matter to them until it's too late. They wouldn't comprehend what is happening right here, between us, as much as I wish we could've executed things a little differently..." They rose their head to look at the Guardian, their facial expression was serious, deadly almost. "...all I do is obey orders, White." It felt like a slight hint. "May I change my position?" 709 thought, but he knew that question wouldn't help him in this moment whatsoever. He needed something more important, something that was more valuable to him at that moment and, yet, nothing came in his mind. It felt like all the questions he had written at his workplace were never there to begin with, despite the amount of times he would look at them, memorizing each question one by one and he would ponder and ponder, restlessly. No one was gonna get him out of there. The train came suddenly. The automated metal doors opened, letting some Elite Workers pass by them. Nobody even batted an eye at them, not even at his superior. It made 709 question why that was the case, remembering his co-workers hatred for people like them. Or was it fear that led them to ignore the situation the two of them were in? "2 more questions." The tubby said, smiling again like nothing had happened. The papers were intact, too; no one touched them. "Why are the tubbies I monitor even experiments? We have lighter fur, but that's the only difference between us." They smirked a bit as they kept moving the papers around unknowingly like they didn't know where to put them. It made 709 feel a little insecure. "We don't have anything to test on." They replied. The implications concerned the white furred teletubby, but he didn't want to continue talking about it. It felt slightly reasonable to him. "And your last question?" They said as they finally put the papers on their lap. "Are my reports being read?" He asked as he felt lighter than usual, like he was gonna faint soon enough. They stopped smiling. "No." Their reply was short and cold, almost like he had ruined their mood. "Oh, but it's not like I am mad at you. I am mad at them." The last sentence came harsher than the previous one. "But what's the point of those reports then...?" White felt emotional again, just like last time. He was gonna ponder on the answers time and time again, but he'll never meet them after this. He was certain of it. "Ask me that question later. I have to catch the early train like the falcon I am..." They sighed as they went up and checked the screen with the trains that were supposed to come around that hour. It was 9 AM. 9 AM. An entire hour passed and he hadn't eaten breakfast. An entire hour passed and he still wasn't close to understanding what was going on. "Have a good day, White!" And he left. He didn't even feel sad about it. He didn't get why it didn't hurt as much as last time, but it was pointless. It was pointless to ponder why he was in this situation. He just wanted to rest, even for a bit. It felt like he hadn't gotten proper rest ever since his first interview. He went back to his place, the halls were half full with all sorts of tubbies that were talking about various things. "Hey, do you know what today's lunch consists of?" A tubby asked. "The main dish is rice with fried chicken, I think..." Another one answered. "And for dessert, we should have..." He shut the door and sighed. Freshly cooked food sounded better than his lifestyle as a whole, but he was a coward, he never wanted to move on from what happened. From what he saw. The sandwich he had warmed up was cold now. A few bites and it was done with, same with the tea that was even colder. He didn't like the taste of neither, the cheese cream felt weirder than usual, despite him knowing very well it wasn't expired. He glanced through his room. Empty. Nothing to look at in more detail. He had more stuff in his lair's chamber, despite it having worse living conditions than his block here - all sorts notebooks, sticky notes, markers, pens, pencils... He sometimes would even draw or write random things - numbers, the experiments, clouds and a lot of drawings of the Coat Man who kept talking to him. He was fixated on them and he didn't even realize that until now. He only had a journal and a few pens in there. The inconsistency irritated him - like he knew he could do better; and so he would, so he would try do so. He grabbed the journal and wrote his thoughts: "I am going to bring my journal to my workplace from now on". It felt only reasonable. He wanted to be more organized and finally think better than he did in his previous attempts. He looked like such a klutz who didn't know better. He already felt like his hands were trembling; he didn't like the feeling - it was a sign that he needed to improve. As he kept ranting about all the things that were irritating him at that moment, he checked the clock - it was 11 AM. He wrote for 2 hours straight, but it didn't bother him now. He felt happier with his current state than before. He decided to re-read what he had written in there, like a reminder of why he was like this to begin with.
2 weeks before the Infection. He was checking his papers again and again. Something felt off to him about the papers he had received. For all his life, the experiments' statuses were kept as "passive" - whatever that meant, but when he saw the fact that the status suddenly changed to "active", he felt... His sleep was getting worse than before. He felt like he was sleeping 2 hours each day and the rest of his night was spent checking the windows, the doors, any crevice he had in his apartment, because, now, he felt watched. Now he felt like his time was coming and he couldn't explain why he got that feeling. What was he even like a few weeks ago? What was he even like a few years ago? Wasn't he this happy, go-lucky creature, always trying to find new things to try? He was slim, barely weighted anything. He was just like everyone else - he was healthy. What even caused him to be this way? Why was he this way? He practically forgot everything. Why did he forget everything? He ripped apart the papers and threw them away - he realized that he was enraged to the point that he wanted to rip anyone that was in front of him into shreds. Because nothing made sense to him... And the person who was acting, oh, "so joyful" towards him was a liar, a cold-blooded liar who only played him. He could tell, because all of the sudden changes didn't happen for no reason. He knew he was going to never escape from the mess he shoved himself in. Why? Because he wanted to trust a Coat Man? Who trusts a Coat Man? Only a dumbass like 709. Of course, he would be the dumbass. He felt like he wanted to die right then and there; it would've been a better fate than to have his life taken away by someone else. He deserved this; he deserved all of the worst things to come. All because he trusted a traitor...a traitor who only wanted to see him dead and laugh at his corpse all day long. He was laughed to the death, at this point. Nobody cared about him. He could tell and...yet... He fell down the floor and covered his head with his arms as his legs got glued to his hot body. He was sweating so heavily, it felt like he would die from hyperthermia. He touched his face and felt something wet rolling down from his eyes... Tears...Only tears... He was tired. He was tired of everyone. He wanted to break the rules. He wanted to see all of them freed. They never deserved anything; those poor...souls... Only then did he feel the dizziness from his stress. His head was piercing him to unimaginable degrees, tears were rolling from his eyes; he couldn't tell if he was alive or dead anymore. He looked like a corpse almost. He was dirty, very dirty and his eyebags were severely big. Was this the same Guardian from years ago? The Guardian who was responsible for Mainland #1? Because now all he looked like was a big... The Coat Man came. "...I knocked at your door...Time and time again, you never answered me. You never..." 709 whimpered as his tears poured down. He felt miserable - a sensation he would never get rid of, even after he dies. "You..." But it felt like he had no more power in him, he was too tired of everything; of all the playing. "Are you alright?" The Coat Man asked, but 709 couldn't bare looking at them any longer. He felt like he couldn't hold himself any more, he felt...As he slowly crawled to the laboratory coat-wearing tubby, his head was throbbing in pain, he felt his tears drying. He felt the material of the coat for a few seconds. He dropped dead. He felt something cold on his head. That same Coat Man who he feared was holding his head on their lap, nursing him. He heard some rustling in the background. There were other teletubbies, not just them. He yelped - no words came out. "They are here to install those heaters I promised." For that long? He had to wait that long? To freeze to death in here? "I checked your temperature and you caught a bad fever... I am surprised you lasted this long..." You were surprised? Isn't it my right to slap you so hard right now for not fulfilling my basic needs? And as much as he wanted to shout at the person in front of him, he was too tired; no words were coming out. "I get that you are enraged, but only when they saw you in this shithole, they decided to finally do something about it..." You could've showed them this many years ago...even before I got my job...What happened to the other people who worked here? At least, their body was warm and comforting, though he didn't get why they were showing him physical comfort, after everything that had happened. Maybe in another universe, he would've... "I am finally gonna be held responsible for your Mainland..." They added, smiling slightly. It was that same motherly smile from before - he didn't get it yet. He didn't get why anyone would be nice to him. He will never get it... It was only a façade, wasn't it? They stood like that, for a while. 709 was about to zone out and nap on their lap. He was surprised the Coat Man was still close to him; though they were looking at the tubbies responsible for the installation, they were checking the pipes. He let it slide...He let everything slide...He couldn't bother to think at this point. He woke up. It was dark, but a bit warmer than before - the installation was done. He thought the Coat Man was gone, but instead, they were still there, next to him, asleep. Their coat was on him, with a warm blanket. They were resting without the coat, nor the blanket. It made 709 a little guilty - he could see them shivering. He tried to cover them, but it startled them from their sleep. "Ah...White..." They smiled as they rose up. "You sure are a sweetheart, aren't you?" They chuckled, but it only made him confused. They seemed so jolly like they weren't shivering just now. "Mm... I shouldn't have slept here...but I didn't want to leave you alone. We are supposed to go to your apartment: you're on sick leave for 1 week, your fever is too terrible for you to work here." "Oh..." His first words finally came back. His body felt too heavy. He felt like he wouldn't be able to go nowhere. The Coat Man helped him get up. He was practically on top of them, he felt too unsteady. "Do you feel like..." They asked, slightly worried they wouldn't be able to carry him due to his weight. "No... I will walk on my own." He moaned as he tried to make a few steps forward: it felt better than before. "Ah sure..." The Coat Man smiled as they walked next to him, hoping he wouldn't trip. "You feeling alright? You still look..." "I will wash myself at home." He said as he continued moving onward. They were back at the Metro Station. He sat down a bit. The entire drive there he didn't even sit once, despite all the seats being empty. He kept staring at the Coat Man, flustered in the predicament he was in: "Isn't this worse than dying? Should've I electrocuted myself?" He thought to himself as he remembered the exposed wires he had in his lair. He wished he killed himself at that point; the Coat Man was looking back at him, still smiling at him. He couldn't understand what all the smiling meant, it made him more uncomfortable than before. "And I had to sleep with this person..." The Coat Man still was guarding him, making sure he didn't move anywhere else. At least, that's what he thought. He didn't feel safe with them; or more like, he didn't know what to feel anymore...with anyone around him. Everything felt like a joke. "I should properly introduce myself, shouldn't I?" They finally spoke up. "I am 531, your new superior!" "But aren't you all my superiors in general? Why should this matter to me?" He trembled, feeling a bit sick. "You should be in bed. We can talk later." They said as they tried to help him up. For once, something made sense to him. The two kept walking, he was still relying on their thin body to walk across the hallways. No one could be heard. Did he sleep for too long? It worried him, but 531 seemed to be happy about it. Maybe... he should relax, too. For once. Even despite the lack of answers, he couldn't be tense for long. He still...needed to recover from the amount of sleepless nights. His sickness proved this, too. The self-indulgent thoughts bothered him. To give himself this sort of pampering...despite all he did in all his life... but the tiredness was strong. He wouldn't be able to withstand it any longer. As they approached his apartment, closer and closer, he fell asleep on their shoulder.
He woke up. The lights aren't harsh today, either. His head was heavier than yesterday, almost like he couldn't stand up just a bit. All the days he spent in that chamber finally got to him. He remembered the days he would cover himself in blankets all the time, trying to keep himself warm constantly. But the constant cold air made him tired of keeping himself healthy... he knew his health didn't matter to anyone, it didn't even matter to himself. "Good morning, White!" They greeted him, startling him. He didn't even realize they were in his room. He stared at the medications on his night table. They surely overdid it, though it felt nice to have everything by his side. "You feeling alright? If you haven't lost your voice that is..." 531 asked as they pat his head. "You were quite sweaty yesterday from the sickness, but I wasn't with you for the entire night." At least they answered a question he already had in his mind... "I...feel dizzy." He practically whispered, his voice was nothing compared to yesterday. "Just...a bit of water...please." 709 pleaded as he took his hands out of the bed cover. He felt too hot in there. Those bed covers weren't his. "I will grab it for you, but you should keep your whole body warm, even your arms..." They said as they went to his kitchen. Barely any thoughts came in his mind about the sudden scenery he was in. He was oddly enough...happy for once. Relaxed, even. 531 wasn't with him at the moment, but he had his breakfast close to him - healthy food from the cafeteria. It was some milk porridge. It reminded him of the earlier days of his job: when he would go to the cafeteria every single time he had to eat. He would eat even the snacks from there once in a while; back then, he was in great shape, not the sedentary lifestyle he is now. He was breathing through his mouth - the air felt cold. He tried to move around, helped himself a little to move around. He already took some of the meds his superior offered him. He didn't feel anything yet. Still in pain and sweaty. It made him wonder why he got so emotional over someone like 531. Compared to the other Coat Men, they did try to strike conversations with him, they seemed more curious of him than the rest, but it only made him realize that was the point - to get something out of him. But now, he didn't even have the power to oppose. All he could do is comply and it was deserved for his lack of contribution to what he wanted to truly do - free the experiments. Ever since that day... He was still thin back then. He was the innocent, gullible junior back then. The thought of the experiments did bother him back then, but he was more comfortable with the Coat Men. They weren't enemies for him, only strangers. That's what he remembered from that day: he was walking around, corridor through corridor in the Coat Men's sector; he was supposed to meet someone that day and was ordered to visit them. Though he didn't know exactly who they were back then, he would recall that the tubby was supposed to be exactly 531 - some reports that he was supposed to give to the Coat Men physically. He was going to be questioned about things. The halls were full of quiet tubbies in laboratory coats, talking to each other with words he didn't comprehend very well, but he could tell the sector all of them worked: Biology, Chemistry, Electricity, Computer Science and so on... A lot of technicians, bioengineers and software engineers were in the area back then, talking about the recent changes - they weren't satisfied about something. The doors from the hallway were half opened, probably to keep the rooms' air clean. He curiously looked through them, only to find it. Three tubbies...dismembered. He rose from his memory in a cold sweat. He didn't realize he was even asleep. He mumbled something indistinguishable under his breath. He couldn't even check a mirror to see how he looked like, but he could sense the fear inside of him. Who were the three tubbies in that room? And how did no one even pay attention to the fact that he witnessed their crimes? It didn't feel right. None of it felt right. He had so many questions bothering him, he felt like he was forgetting them all at once. He stood up, as weak as he was and headed to the journal he kept. He had to write something about this day. He was too scared to not talk about it, they could've kept him alive for a limited time and he wouldn't know at all. He grabbed the journal and a pen, and he quickly pushed his back against the front door, hoping his weight could block anyone from entering. He was quite heavy. As he wrote the sentences in a messier handwriting than before, he heard the door behind him open. He didn't even want to know who it was, he was already terrified that he was done for now. The tubby didn't seem in a hurry at all. It was surely 531. "709..." Their voice could be heard from the opposite side of the door. "Should I leave you be?" He couldn't tell what they would do if they weren't allowed in. He had to oblige as much as he didn't want to. "I can just wait here. I only wanted to give you your lunch and some more medications that should last you the entire week." So what he already had wasn't enough? "What about the ones you put on my table? Aren't they..." 709 asked, slightly irritated. "Oh, those were for multitude of reasons. Not just for a fever...as bad as yours. Medications for headaches, relaxation...those sorts of things." They explained calmly. Back to them being motherly again, the tone made him sick. "Buy me laxatives next time then!" He shouted, irritated. "Well, if that's your method of getting relaxed..." They chuckled a bit. A weird sense of humor. "I noticed that you showed symptoms of mental illness so I wanted to help with what I can." He opened the door abruptly. "Me, with signs of mental illness?!" 709 screamed at 531. "You caused me to be like this and now you want to give me some petty medications? You are the cause of all of this!" 531 seemed slightly scared by his shouting. He couldn't tell if they didn't want to get caught or if the screaming actually scared them. But it made him feel a little remorseful, it's not like he was feeling well to even shout at someone. The stinginess in his neck was intolerable. "I get your frustration, but..." They replied, trying to remain composed. "Right now, you shouldn't act this way, when you're sick like this..." Their face was cold, colder than before. "I am sorry." That was all he could say as he bowed his head lower. "I will only accept it if you go back to bed." They muttered as they went to the kitchen. "At least, today's lunch is quite good!" They attempted to make the air more tolerable. As 709 blew out his nose, he got his second meal for the day - some rice with meat and a salad. He could tell there was a bit of pepper on the meat. "I asked them to make it less salty. You don't need many condiments while you are sick." He couldn't tell if they were trying to hide a snarky remark towards the prepped food he had in his fridge. It wouldn't have bothered him if they did do make one. "Though, to be fair, I don't prefer mine too salty either." Those conversations reminded him of the daily questions they would ask about him while at work. It was always about the little things - his meals, his health, his friends and so on. He was honest when answering them. He wondered if they saw his "signs of mental illness" from the answers he gave. He never liked when they asked him about his friends. He would always say he had none. He didn't feel like making any, especially in the environment he was in. "This time, I am eating with you here. I have more free time than before." It was only now that he noticed they were carrying more packages than before: one for the meds presumably, one for his food and the third one was probably their food. It made him feel worse now knowing that they were carrying so much, but he didn't understand why they were attempting to be friendlier with him. They handed him his food and he calmly picked it up, taking a few bites of the food. The milk porridge he had eaten beforehand was already delicious, but this tasted quite well, too. It reminded him of the days when he actually tried, when he would make his food at home. It was all a sad memory now. As he tried to move a little from his bed, 531 rearranged his bed so he could feel more comfortable. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?" 709 mumbled, feeling a bit irritated by their presence. "Well, you are under my supervision now. This may not be my job, but I still have to make sure you are alright." They explained as they stood up to look around his place. "A nice way for me to take a break from work, too." He remained silent. He still didn't feel any effect from the medications. He could barely breathe from his nose, his throat was still stingy. The company didn't make him feel uncomfortable; after all, someone was caring for him. He couldn't complain about the free care he was receiving. They could've easily ignored him. "White...tell me." 531 asked as they were munching on the meat. "What do you see me as?" "...as...a person..." He replied, baffled by the question. It was sudden, but it felt intentional. He couldn't tell what they were hoping for when asking that. "I see you as a person, too." That's all they said, smiling. "I am glad I met you...You are funny to me." "Why?" 709 asked, but all they could do is chuckle to themselves. He didn't bother questioning them further. He could sense what was happening right now - they were trying to bond with him, especially now when he was sick; at a time he was too weak to rebuttal. "I don't trust you yet." "You don't have to tell me something so obvious...oh..." They mumbled as they stood up. "But do you believe that we can build this trust together?" "And for what? To betray me to the Coat Men?" He snapped as he grabbed onto the plate he had on his lap. "Do you think that I am simply getting closer to you just to report your behavior to the Coat Men?" They asked calmly. "Because if so... Don't you think our visits would be more organized?" It made him think: the visits were indeed too random, like they didn't fit in a specific schedule, once 531 was in a hurry, then in the other they seemed quite relaxed, but maybe that was still on purpose? That they were feeling stress from what would happen after their organized visit? They were expecting reports after a few meetings, weren't they? "But I assume that regardless of what I say..." "Why are you heavily interested in me?" 709 asked as he kept fidgeting with the plate like it was a toy. "In this state, I don't want to share this information with you." They muttered, slightly irritated. "Even I don't trust you well..." "So then why talk to me?" 709 snapped as he placed the plate on his lap aggressively. "Because why shouldn't I?" 531 whimpered, hurt by his behavior. It angered him. "Why should you?" 709 tried to stand up, trying to act more intimidating than he really was. His chubby and weak body barely terrified the gray furred tubby. "Why shouldn't I?" 531 retorted, only to sit on the floor, calming down for a bit. They started laughing out loud, confusing the sick elite worker. "You are such a funny guy, White. You truly are..."