The Cube: Ch. 5, Rolph

“I am a cyborg, as well,” the man in the lab coat said. “I identify with the name, Rolph.” “Okay, Rolph, why don’t you and your cube head back to wherever you came from and leave us alone?” “I’m not sure the boy shares your sentiment,” Rolph said. “He seems to enjoy us.” “He’s too young to understand,” I said. “I don’t comprehend your animosity,” Rolph said. “We mean you no harm. We’re simply studying plants, animals and humans on this planet.”

“So you’re from another planet?” I said. “Yes, but in a different, what you would call, galaxy. Too distant to explain. We traveled here to study life and organisms that exist separate from machines. That’s why we landed in this meadow. This forest is full of life. Johnny understood us immediately. I think it is because he is so young. He does not have such a judging mind.”

“What about your head-sucking cube? What was it trying to do to Johnny?” I said. “It was just feeling him. The cube would have put him back,” Rolph said. “Does the cube have a name like you do?” I asked. “Yes, actually. Her name is Billah. She speaks through the computer, but prefers to communicate with light and touch.”


The Cube: Ch. 4, Inside

I scurried over to the door and ran down the steps before it closed. Once I reached the floor, I looked up and around me. The interior walls were a translucent white, with buttons like number pads and other areas sensitive to the touch. The buttons were not keys, but rather just slight indentations on the wall.

In a chair beside the staircase sat the little boy. He looked fine. No harm had come to him in the strange evaporating he had done when the man in the lab coat shined the light on him. I could see through the outer wall to the meadow outside. The man on the tractor still sat on it and seemed not to be bothered at what had taken place before him.

There was a lab table along the wall. I put my hand on it and a light flashed inside it and it glowed at my touch. The man in the lab coat appeared and held a chair in his hands. “Would you care to have a seat?” he asked, in a friendly tone. “No, thanks,” I said. “Who are you and why are you here?” I asked. “I should ask the same of you, considering you’re in my cube,” he said with a smile.

“What do you intend to do with the boy?” I asked. “Why, nothing at all. I was simply saving him from you.” “What do you mean?” I said. “That’s what I was trying to do,” I said. “He could have been injured if the wall had broken,” he said. “He was not in any danger until you started attacking the cube.” “What is this thing? Is it alive?” I said. “It is a cyborg, half animal, half machine. The living tissue is able to change itself into any form necessary.”

The Cube: Ch. 3, The Cube

As the boy hugged the cube, his head started to sink into the cube, at first just making a dent in the wall, then starting to pass through the wall. The boy didn’t seem alarmed, but I was sure he could suffocate if his head sunk into the cube much farther. I ran over to his wagon and picked up the toaster, then threw it at the front of the cube. The wall of the cube flexed back and forth, and the toaster bounced off and fell to the ground.

By now, the boy’s head was about halfway absorbed into the side of the cube. I was determined to help him. I took ahold of the handle to the wagon, and swinging the wagon towards the cube, I hoped to damage the cube. I don’t know if it was my adrenaline or the urgency with which I did it, but after the wagon hit and the wall flexed back and forth, the glass wall cracked.

A door opened at the top of the cube, and, walking up a stairway, a man emerged. He was bald, wore eyeglasses, and a white lab coat. He opened his mouth and a light shown out. He focused on the boy, shining the light on him. As soon as the light covered him, the boy disappeared. “Hey! What did you do to him?” I yelled. The man walked back down the stairs into the cube. Before the door closed, I hoisted myself up onto the cube with my hands, swinging my feet up onto the top.

The Cube: Ch. 2, The Hug

Just then I heard a child singing a children’s song, “Jesus Loves Me”, I think it was. I looked in the direction of the sound and saw a young boy, probably around five or six years old, walking out of the woods, pulling a red wagon with a toaster sitting in it. The boy had stringy blonde hair and his face was red from the sun.

” Well, Johnny, what are you up to?” the man on the tractor asked. “I’m here to fix the white box,” the boy replied. At that, I decided to speak up. “But all you have is a wagon and a toaster!” I exclaimed. “I don’t plan to use these,” he said. “I only need my hands,” he said, holding them up as if we didn’t know what hands were. I decided to play along. “What are you going to do?” I asked. “Give it a hug,” he said, with a toothy grin.

“That sounds good,” I said. “Just be careful.” The little boy wrinkled his brow at my apparently ridiculous show of caution and hurried over to the “white box” and stood at the corner to my right. He then leaned in and put his arms up against the walls of the cube. He rested his red cheek on the wall and the wall rippled slightly from his cheek towards the center of the front facing us. This seemed to please the little boy, because he leaned back to watch it with a big smile, then returned to “hugging” the box.