Rapport

The dark-haired feral girl’s name was Courtney, a tidbit discovered via computers when she stormed into his office.

“I should have a computer, too,” she said. An edge of angry tears quivered in her tone. “I have friends. I miss people. That’s not just your computer. It belongs to both of us.” She smirked. A tear rolled down her face. She wiped it off. “We’re both pets.”

This was a change. He’d seen her three times since her arrival. Once when he was eating, she stamped in and started going through the cupboards and refrigerator. The second time, he saw her prowling the cage’s perimeter. Guessing she was looking for a way out, he watched her a bit. When boredom crept in, he drifted away.

The third sighting was a little later. Cleaning in the kitchen, he looked out and saw her trying to shimmy up a cage bar. Idiot, he thought.

“Of course, you’re right,” he said, standing, trying to be reasonable, friendly, and diplomatic. “My name is Thomas, by the way.” He put out his hand.

She pushed past him to the laptop – his laptop. “Whatever,” she said.

Je-sus. “Do you need help with anything?”

Stopping everything, she said, “It’s a computer,” as if that answered and explained everything.

She typed in her name. Courtney. 

“Your name is Courtney?” he said.

“No, that’s my alias,” she said. Swinging around, she said, “Do you mind? Can I have some privacy?”

“Yes. Of course.”

This set up the constant battle. She was always on the computer, getting on the computer, or asking him to get on the computer. He liked his computer time . Now he had to share it with her. Courtney.

He knew he was being irrational and selfish. Didn’t matter. He used the network for porn, games, and searching for news. His friends weren’t on Facebook. All those accounts for the relationships built through the years were listed as inactive. Many emails bounced back. None of his friends tweeted back to him.

Must be something the aliens are doing, he figured. The aliens were damn cunning.

Like the language thing. He was pleased his owner (God, he hated to think of that) had learned his name was Thomas. He remembered, though, the aliens were using a device to speak the languages of Earth when they arrived. That included English. Where were those devices now? Apparently people authorized to have human pets were not allowed to openly communicate with them. Bet it’s worries over the Stockholm Syndrome, he figured.

They didn’t want the masters and their pets to develop a rapport.

****

Previous Pet stories

Pet

His House

His Name

Her

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: