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The Nature of Predators - Predator Disease (1/8)
🕑 Added 2023-05-07 11:00:03 +0000 UTCContent warning: Mild first-person descriptions of inhumane and physically harmful mental "treatments."
Memory transcription subject: Bonsen, Predator Disease Patient
Date [standardized human time]: December 20, 2136
Nobody thought that they could be diagnosed with predator disease until it happened. I still remember the day the exterminators showed up in full garb, and hauled me away while my family and neighbors did nothing. I was certain that it was a mistake that would be corrected when the knowledgeable experts examined me. After all, my only issue was being unable to sit still or to focus in class. Everyone else thought school was boring too, right?
Alas, that was five years ago, and it had been…I’d lost track, since I’d seen someone from outside the facility. At first, I marked my weeks by my mother’s visits, but the doctors whispered some words in her ear. They explained that I was disruptive, and that was indicative of a lack of concern for the herd. Was that really what they believed? It wasn’t true!
Sure, I didn’t always listen when people talked to me, but it was difficult to pay attention for long. My brain bounced around through vivid scenes, forgetting things along the way; time slipped out of hand. I learned later that it was a mistake to tell the doctors that, because they believed it was proof that I was delusional. That wasn’t psychosis…was it? I didn’t see visions or hear voices, but the doctors seemed so sure.
Mom and Dad were doctors. They knew about predator disease, and even they think you have it. They haven’t come back, and Mom came alone the last time. She kept staring at you. Am I a monster? Am I losing it? Maybe they were right about the manifestations…I’m gonna be like that patient that clawed her eyes out last week!
A shock pulsed through my neck, and Overseer Derva twisted my ear. “Bonsen, you disrespect this facility by losing focus. It’s no wonder you’ll never get released.”
I pawed at the standard predator collar, which was cinched around my throat. The administered shocks were something I’d grown accustomed to over the years. We were on a strict schedule at the facility, and being a non-Venlil in Venlil Prime’s capital, I think that made me a target. The galaxy’s weakest species despised the idea of predator-diseased aliens migrating to their world to prey on them.
I’d pleaded with the overseer, telling her that my mother and father came here, during the infamous raid which killed Governor Tarva’s daughter. (Was Tarva still the governor? There was no telling if she won a second term, and we didn’t exactly get news in here.) The two Zurulians were high-school sweethearts who went to med school together, and had been intertwined at the tail for the better part of two decades. With several young, school-aged children getting hit, after the Venlil Republic failed to stop every Arxur bomber, it was considered a catastrophic event.
There was an imperative to help, when prey offspring were made an example out of. I agreed with my parents, I told Derva I thought rescuing the vulnerable was a noble thing! Predators were evil, and the herd had to band together to stop them. They were incapable of compassion, and got their kicks off of cruel deeds; their impulses were to kill, maim, and torture. I really did agree with that common knowledge…everything I did to prove I wasn’t a threat, made me a threat in the doctors’ eyes.
The meal squares in front of me looked like compacted grass, but I shoved them down nonetheless. It was possible they were merely foliage leftovers; they tasted more bland and slimy every time. If I refused to eat here, they would label me as a threat to myself. Depression itself wasn’t predator disease, but it was a bad sign in someone with that diagnosis. A predator-diseased Venlil who harmed themselves had nothing left to lose, which made them a threat to others.
“Thank you for the correction, Derva,” I assured the administrator. “It won’t happen again. I’m getting better…”
Derva flicked her ears in disdain. “You better be. We have some ‘special visitors’ coming; you predator-diseased monsters will love them. I’m bumping your therapy up a day, so you can be mellow…and not have anything stirred up inside you when they arrive.”
Visitors? Someone outside the facility; if I convince them I’m harmless, maybe I can go! But that might just be a test from Derva to see if I’m an escape hazard. Besides, I…I’m not ready to go back to the buzz machine so soon.
“The…the shock was supposed to be tomorrow! Please, keep the schedule!” I begged, hating how my voice cracked. That plea would be chalked up as an attempt at manipulation; everyone knew predator disease patients didn’t deserve, and shouldn’t solicit pity. “I’ve been good. The doctors have the routines set for a reason, right?”
She wagged a derisive claw at me. “Trying to delay treatment? You don’t want to get better, Bonsen. That’s why you’re still here.”
The Venlil administrator stooped over, and my instincts compelled me to wriggle away from her. My forepaws still hurt from smacking the board I was tied to last time; I could barely walk, but I knew if I failed to rise at the alarm again, that would be written up as noncompliance. Asking to see a doctor was senseless too, since they’d accuse you of faking it. The paw wasn’t distended, so it wasn’t broken or inflamed.
Derva was livid as I ducked away from my square, and I knew I was in trouble. The Venlil triggered the shock collar, and retrieved her metal hoop. She slipped it over my snout, locking it onto my neck. The administrator stopped the burning shocks, though she dragged me across the floor, without giving me a chance to stand. It was my fault for not going on my own. Hacking sounds came from my throat, as the metal dug into my throat; breathing was nigh impossible.
Technicians forced me into the chair, and began affixing wires. I could hear Derva conversing with another Venlil, discussing the “humans”, who had “just arrived.” That must be a new species, one who we’d made contact with while I was in here. First contacts were always exciting, learning about the universe; I bet my parents were poring over medical textbooks of their anatomy now. Even if these humans were primitives, like all new species were, they should be interesting.
“This one could benefit from a higher dose of the meds. Clearly isn’t mellow enough,” Derva said, turning to the technicians. “Little freak tried to run off!”
I zoned out, as they tightened the straps and prepared to turn the machine on. Those pills made me feel icky, like all I was able to do was nap, at least until I built up a tolerance. The thought of feeling queasy and sedated every morning filled me with dread; life inside the facility was a dark spell without an end, and was growing unbearable. I closed my eyes, trying to imagine that I was outside in the fresh air. I tried to remember what the sun felt like against my face.
Shocks zapped into my skull, worming tendrils to the very heart of my cranium. My thoughts fizzled out under sheer pain, and my body convulsed on reflex. My limbs jerked around like tropical fronds in the wind, still having some mobility within the restraints. Screams came from my mouth, as the voltage increased and the veins in my eyes strobed my vision. All I wanted was for this to stop, but I was merely passing from one agonized moment to another.
I bit my tongue amid the tremors, leading to blood collecting in my mouth. Tears wet my furry cheeks, as I faintly heard voices moving toward us. The Venlil sounded afraid; perhaps this new “human” species had sent their most predator-diseased members to the facility. That could be why Derva called them “special visitors”, and claimed that I would fit in with them. The door to the shock chamber clicked open, and every technician skittered to the far side of the room.
Even Derva. They’ve dealt with predator disease in Mazics, and they’re afraid of…
Pain had numbed my mind, leaving me unable to see the visitors or complete my musings. Thunderous bellows resounded through the air, incoherent shrieks charged with rage. There were a few Venlil screams, before the shocks stopped. My muscles were still quivering, expecting the next spasm to hit. The bands came unclasped around my paws, and a warm grip moved me from my vertical position to my natural quadrupedal one.
My legs refused to support me, and I collapsed to the floor, drooling blood. The gangly mass of limbs scooped me up, pulling me close to their breathing apparatus. Smooth digits glided over my spine, and stroked my fur in a soothing way. I started to relax into their grip, unable to believe the treatment had stopped so quickly. Nobody had shown me affection, or given me positive physical contact, since I arrived at the facility.
“It’s okay,” the voice whispered, wiping bloody green saliva away with some cloth item. “I’ve got you.”
Human, Derva had called these aliens. In that moment, I loved these visitors, and welcomed the comfort of their grasp. Maybe this new species could be convinced I wasn’t a threat, though I wasn’t sure they could do anything about it..
My eyelids fluttered open, and my comfort was replaced by sheer terror. The human was staring down at me with the largest predator eyes I’d ever seen, sunken above ebony cheekbones. Its pupils were meeting my own gaze, asserting dominance over its new claim. The beast appeared to have something pink smeared on its lips, perhaps the blood of its last meal. Did it really paint its eating orifice with animal fluids?
Oh stars, and that nose…it took up half of its face! It jutted from its skull like a Mazic’s trunk! It must’ve been able to smell me from a mile away. The predator’s eyes watered, showing its difficulty in not eating me right away. I wasn’t sure what it was waiting for, but I was certain that this was the end of my days. Mortal danger had a way of jacking up your heart rate, and making you scream.
The human averted its gaze, and signaled to two others as I shivered uncontrollably. I distantly worried why it was on Venlil Prime, and why it had been let into this facility. These were new predators, who had the cruelty to finish what the Arxur started. Now, I was stuck in a vulnerable state, feet from one’s blood-spattered mouth.
Today was definitely going to be the day I died.
Memory transcription subject: Dr. Kiara Bahri, Human Psychologist
Date [standardized human time]: December 20, 2136
Earth’s geopolitics were ever-shifting; it had surprised me that aliens all possessed a one-world government. The United States, Russia and China, old powers beleaguered by decades of wars and excess military spending, still championed their own alliances. The world was moving on, however, giving rise to new powers. After the Satellite Wars, large corporations suddenly began looking elsewhere for growth and resource supplies. Had the Venlil not been discovered, certain powers might’ve fallen by the wayside into irrelevance.
Following Africa’s population boom in the late twenty-first century, economic alliances had quietly formed to become an industrial center. As a Moroccan by birth, who was admitted for a Western education at Oxford, I’d noticed the cultural diffusion over the years. Since when had tagine been a household word abroad, on par with curry? I was pleased that the UN was including people from across the globe in first contact, making sure we represented the culture of Earth, not just one part of it.
That sharp population growth cost us dearly against the extermination fleet. Africa was the second hardest-hit continent, which set many countries back from the prominent future they were attaining…
The genocide perpetrated against our planet hadn’t felt real, but it compelled me to volunteer my services as a counselor. Most of our soldiers had lost someone, and that meant having a space to air their grief might be of use to the United Nations. Still, when the Office of Extraterrestrial Affairs actually accepted my application and deployed me aboard a ship, I was stunned. Me, a practicing psychologist with no military experience, being sent to an alien planet?
Maintaining a professional air during Sovlin’s visit proved difficult; the feeling reminded me of religious descriptions of ordinary people being visited by angels and celestial beings. My awe—the wonder for life’s diversity and majesty—was squashed when the Gojid told me how the Federation handled mental health. Captain Monahan ran my concerns up the chain of command, and presentations soon followed, explaining why predator disease was a flawed concept.
Mandatory psych evaluations were ordered for all alien crew, though I got the distinct feeling many were lying. More presentations ensued, explaining Terran methods of treatment; humans willing to speak about their own sessions described what therapy was like and how it was helpful. Most herbivores still avoided me like the plague, and said whatever they thought was the right answer. I couldn’t figure out how to help them; we weren’t going to coerce them any further.
On a whim, I threw a request at Governor Tarva’s office to tour a predator disease facility. Perhaps it would help to see what they were up against. A Venlil representative sent back a message about transparency, which was a bad sign, but they arranged a meeting. The United Nations had given me a strict talking-to about not making a scene. That’s why I was pretending that I hadn’t heard what the facility guards said, when they thought we were out of earshot.
“Have the humans take off their masks,” the guard had whispered. “Administrator Derva wants to gauge each patient’s response to them, and determine which ones are instinct-deficient. We can’t assess the fear response properly with them hiding their…you know.”
The Venlil was singing a different tune now, welcoming us in an overly cheery tone. He talked about how he hoped that humans could help with handling these “dangerous individuals”, thanks to our familiarity with all that was predatorial. The casual way they discussed us rubbed me the wrong way; they were thinking of ways to weaponize our visit against the patients. I fondled my beaded necklace, trying to distract myself.
“Please remove your masks! You don’t need to hide, or discomfort yourselves,” the guard said. “We insist.”
Exchanging a glance with the two UN soldiers escorting me, Paulo and Aqil, I removed my eye visor and mouth covering. The duo, a Brazilian and a Malaysian respectively, followed suit; I could see bags under Paulo’s eyes. I knew from his therapy sessions that he struggled with insomnia, which had only been worsened by his boyfriend of ten years’ death in Rio de Janeiro.
Aqil, meanwhile, was one of three humans on the entire ship that hadn’t sought a therapy session; that alone made me suspicious. Perhaps he was truly coping well with recent events, or it could be that he clung to old-timey views on seeking mental help. Not that those were the only reasons: he could also be unready to discuss his feelings, or his family could’ve been nowhere near Kuala Lumpur. It hit harder when you lost someone close to you…I was fortunate that my home country was unscathed.
Paulo directed his bloodshot eyes at the Venlil guard. “You sure you want our binocular vision on full display? It might scare the patients…and the staff.”
The guard gulped. “Um, on s-second t-thought…no, D-Derva said…let’s walk. I’ll t-take you to her.”
The Venlil was barely intelligible, with stutters almost every word. Aqil rolled his eyes, following the terrified gatekeeper. I guess our ship personnel hadn’t been exaggerating the initial reactions to our appearance. I gathered that from Sovlin’s explanation of how much he despised us, but it was different to see it in front of you. The aliens aboard the UNS Rocinante were accustomed to living with and working alongside Terrans.
The Venlil guard jogged several paces ahead of us, glancing back to ensure we kept away. His ears were pinned against his head, and he almost tripped from how his legs were quivering. The facility was all sterile white, with some rooms having machines, office desks, and padded walls. It wasn’t unlike ancient 20th century asylums. Staff gawked or searched for cover as we passed; most patients were outright petrified, except for the ones with glassy stares.
What have the “doctors” been doing to these people? Good grief, they look vegetative.
Anger simmered through my veins, and I felt my hands curling into a fist. The Venlil leading us hurried into a large room; my jaw almost dropped to the floor. A Zurulian was dangling by her forepaws, as electricity was sent into her skull through a metal brain basket. Restraints controlled her spasming, and the screams of pain reached my ears. My stomach dropped; Paulo and Aqil froze at the sight too.
Then, the human soldiers unfroze. Aqil charged at a technician operating the controls, demanding that they stopped the torture at once. Two Venlil fixed stun guns and sedatives on the patient, but turned them against the Malaysian soldier after his assault. Paulo stepped in, tackling one alien from behind. He leapt up, and clotheslined the charging alien with an outstretched arm.
The guard who showed us in scampered off in fear, colliding with a hallway wall. A middle-aged Venlil, declaring herself to be Administrator Derva, barked protests. Seeing her mistreat a patient in such brutal fashion, I couldn’t control my anger. I swung a fist into her jaw, and recoiled from the pain in my fingers. Clearly, I didn’t know how to throw a proper punch.
“Paulo, remove the restraints!” Aqil barked, after getting the technician to turn the machine off. “Change of plans; we’re busting this teddy bear out.”
Paulo hurried over to the electroshock patient. “Glad we’re on the same page. I don’t give a shit about a diplomatic incident.”
The first room the human visitors were shown inside, we’d lost our tempers just seeing the atrocity. How many other patients were locked inside this place? What was the accusation against them that landed them here? I grabbed the Zurulian’s chart absent-mindedly, hoping to read it with a visual translator later.
Paulo undid the last restraint, and gently moved the Zurulian back to her feet. I moved forward to crouch beside them, watching as she collapsed in a pitiful heap. It was beyond sad, to see something so adorable mistreated. Without thinking, I hugged her against my chest, and tried to tell her it was okay. Furthermore, I wiped her blood-slick lips with my shirt sleeve, while tearing up on my own disbelief.
That comfort routine was working like a charm, right up until the point the stressed-out Zurulian noticed my binocular gaze. Her ear-piercing scream was enough to remind me that we needed to get out of here, before the facility’s reinforcements arrived. This cute alien would come around, if we rescued her, right?
After all, we couldn’t possibly be more scary than the people who’d been shocking her minutes ago.
A/N - Part 1 of the new series! The first split-POV in any NOP story, where we witness what exactly goes on in predator disease facilities. Bonsen's attention difficulties were enough to land her in custody, but the humans lost it when they saw how she was treated. Will Dr. Bahri be able to help our Zurulian friend? What will the UN do about what they saw in the facilities?
As always, thank you for reading and supporting!
Comments
j p
The side stories make them so hatable. the main story shows them in their best light.
Tux Tucker
Current psychologist was aghast when she saw the disparity between my records and what I was actually telling her, and told me that all too often BPD is used as a diagnosis to dismiss "troublesome" patients. In my case, that was having ADHD+PTSD and asking too many questions, which were interpreted as trying to undermine my doctors. But she actually likes when I bring peer reviewed psychology articles to discuss! I wonder what she would have to say about "predator disease"...
Tux Tucker
Oof, this hits close to home. Be a self-harming (check) female (check) with "treatment resistant" mental illness (check), and that's a borderline diagnosis for you. Doctors refuse to see you because that population is considered "difficult" and anything you do, any thought you express, is interpreted as a symptom. Complain about the negative side effects of medication? Conflict-seeking. Try to learn more about mental health to be involved in your treatment? Manipulation. Express frustration at seeing no improvement? I guess you just don't want to get better. Or maybe you *can't* get better, and the best thing we can do is make your life less of a pain for others.
Alexander Andrews
Kinda hate the venlil a little now...
