I don't really understand what's happening, but it's my turn I think. Do I talk? I guess I'll do what the big people did.
"Alice's name is
Alice. Alice is 7. Experiment 3D17V of Project Copellion. Generation 3. Batch D. Genetic Classification 1. Unique serialization 7V. Male. Albino. Albino means Alice can't be in the light for too long and things are really bright for me. Alice likes colors, though. Reading, too. Alice never had any… uh… pic-pip-pitcher books to read in the lab?
"Alice can't walk. Alice thinks it's because of the marks Alice has on the back of Alice's feet. They're the only marks on Alice's her body. Everything else disappears. Cuts and scrapes go bye-bye really quickly."
With nothing more to say after mentioning the scars on the back of my feet, the only wounds that never heal despite the accelerated healing my body has, I stare blankly at the others. During the silence, someone asks me if healing is my power. It is but it's not all of it, and I struggle to clarify.
"Alice… has another power. Ah, the men-in-white sometimes said sinking. Alice think it's because Alice feels like Alice is sinking whenever Alice uses Alice's power." There is more than just that to the power I'm talking about, but I still couldn't think of how to say it all. At a loss for words with my limited vocabulary, I simply put both my hands on the log of driftwood I sat upon. My eyes drift half-closed as I synch with the log, feeling out how far I would need to go to synchronize. Once it all clicked, I made a wish, <Alice wishes for a dragon,> to bring out the potential of the log. The misshapen piece of driftwood twisted and turned, groaning and creaking into a wooden miniature of a dragon I had read in a picture book while on the way here.
Brought to life, the wooden dragon blinked open its eyes and stretched its wings, but it didn't move from its spot in the sand because I didn't want it to. I still needed to sit on its back. The dragon, while sentient in its own way and possessed of its own personality, recognized me as its absolute master. I could not explain how or why, but there was a reason… or at least the men-in-white were always talking about it. The sinking done now that the wish had been completed, I open my own eyes fully and look at the results with a smile.
Inspired, I remember other things and try to say as much of it as I can, "Alice can also sink into other things. Like other people! But when Alice does that, Alice can't change them into dragons. Sinking into other people just lets Alice wish for a small change, like faster speed or not hurting, and Alice has to keep on sinking into them every now and then to keep the people changed. Alice can also sink into water! Alice couldn't make the water float like the men in white wanted, but Alice could make the water ripple and move up the sides of the tank and Alice could even swim in it without air like a fish! Glub glub! The men in white tried to make Alice sink into air, but Alice can't. They were weird, acting nice to Alice after Alice failed and saying that Alice just needs to try harder. Then they-th-they… Fire… Alice can sink into fire… but it hurts Alice. It hurts Alice lots and lots…. Alice was alright after it, but fire really hurts. After… Hrghk. After… Af-aft-UWAAAAAAH." With the normally repressed memory fresh in my head again, I sobbed and wailed. The dragon I had created convulsed at my rampant emotions. It snarled, looked ready to attack everything in reach, and then collapsed back into driftwood. I fell unconscious. My power's "safety," which the scientists had modified into me sometime after my birth, had kicked in. The safety was a subconscious, irrevocable instinct to, so long as I'm in no danger, end the effects of all my abilities and fall unconscious whenever my emotions reached a certain peak that they had deemed dangerous.
Although, falling unconscious was hardly anything new for me. My stamina, being neglected in both creation and growing up had always been low, and being a seven year old, it was really, really low. If I don't sleep for at least half the day, I feel sleepy, and I like sleeping more than that when I can. Even if I could walk, I probably wouldn't be able to walk for more than two minutes before wanting a piggy back ride. The scientists would always encourage me when regained consciousness after my tests that when I get older, I'll be able to synchronize more thoroughly and more often, but as it is, I can barely go through three deep synchs a day without feeling exhausted. Beyond that, I'm too tired to properly make my wish and at five or six, I risk falling unconscious.
