matril | Lab Journal Entry #26

"Alone"

Int., Clancy’s garage, nighttime, close shot of the tablet

CREATURE (VO)
This device is miraculous. Not for itself, but for what it contains. I have a wealth of knowledge at my very fingertips. My understanding has grown in leaps and bounds. When I began a few days ago I could scarcely string two words together while reading. Now I have read entire novels.

Of course I would never deprive my friends of this marvelous resource, even if it came to me through Phillip’s carelessness. As soon as he returned that first night, I replaced the tablet on the table. Every night since then, I have entered the house to borrow it, and always brought it back before anyone wakes.

They have never suspected my presence here (Pans garage, then back again). I have been too careful. I feel like the shoemaker’s elves, providing services for my friends and fleeing before they discover me.

I have become acquainted with many characters of fiction and long to find something in common with them. I haven't found much. All of them know where they come from, where they are going. Even if they are ignorant to being with, the resolution of the story always brings the knowledge they desire.

(Camera swings around to mirror, showing Creature’s torso.) What am I? Not human. I am too large, too ill-formed. And I was not born as other humans, with a mother and father waiting to gladly welcome me. What is my purpose? How did I come to be?

I searched for answers. I studied histories. I learned of the great accomplishments of humanity...as well as their terrible wrongdoing, the tyranny of emperors, the cruelty of explorers toward native peoples. And I wondered – am I equally capable of great things, or of cruelty? I choose to be good – whatever the purpose of my making, I wish to be good.

But I have also studied scientific descriptions of all the earth’s many types of life forms. I have no place in any of it. It wasn’t until I found this (pan back to tablet, where Creature pulls up illustration on the screen) that I found any kinship at all.

Milton’s Paradise Lost. It was so real for me, at first I read it like a literal history. It does not matter than it is fiction. I recognized its truth. At first I thought myself much like Adam. Alone. Yet he knew his creator, and that creator gave him a companion.

Perhaps, I realized, I am more like Satan after all. Filled with bitterness and envy for the paradise of which I cannot partake.

But I must not allow myself to despair. I have a plan. When the mother is alone, then will be the time to approach her and offer my friendship, asking for hers in exchange. If I can only gain her approval by my voice alone, she will defend me when the others return. It may be enough to overcome their initial shock at my appearance.

It could work. It must work. (Pause, then much quieter) It must.