I lift a trapdoor in the floor and reach a leg down into the cool storage chamber, fetching a mesh bag of fruit. I wash these in the sink, then cut them and arrange them in a shallow bowl.
Celeste watches from her basket all the while, the direction of her gaze made clear by those dark pupils at the center of her grey eyes. She watches my hands as I cut, my stomach as I move, the bowl as I lift it and bring it toward her.
She tenses warily as she reviews the bowl, so I set it next to her and turn away, relieving her from the stress of being supervised. That should keep her busy while I prepare dinner for the rest of my pets.
CHAPTER 6
CELESTE
Anxiety curlsin my gut as I stare at the bowl in front of me. I guess I’m allowed to use my hands this time; Razul has ducked out of the room. I assume I’m safe here in this basket and I have zero intentions of becoming a caimite snack.
There are more of the green citrus wedges, so I start with those, eating them quickly so I have plenty of time to force myself to choke down the rest. Razul already put in the effort to cut everything, and I can’t be ungrateful.
Normally, I’d struggle to eat this much even of a food I like, but my hunger has returned with a vengeance. I think it’s part of the transformation.
I carefully test a bright magenta berry that I’ve also seen before. These have a tendency to either be mild and wonderful or horribly tart, and I sigh with relief as a mild flavor coats my tongue.
That leaves two fruits I’ve never seen and two I know I hate.
I select the most bland-looking of the unknown fruits—dense slices that are deep crimson in the center and white around the edges.
I take a careful nibble of the edge. The flavor is fine, almost savory, but a stringy texture lingers on my tongue.
The other mystery fruit, crisp and wet like an apple slice but bright purple, has a fine texture, but the flavor makes me frown reflexively. It has a strange nuttiness that I can almost tolerate, but then my tongue starts burning. I now regret finishing all the good fruit; I could’ve used it as a chaser. I force a bite of the blue pips I know are going to leave a horrible chalky texture in my mouth because that’s better than this burning.
The pain eases, but I’m left staring at a plate full of my failure.
Hesitant, I reach for another slice of the stringy fruit, forcing the whole piece into my mouth. I squeeze my eyes shut and chew, even as I gag.
Then Razul’s fingers are suddenly in my mouth again, scooping the offending food away.
I’m mortified. One dislike is surely allowed, but when he sees what I’ve refused to eat he’ll think me as indulgent and ungrateful as the ICSS did.
In a panic, I reach for another piece, but Razul pries it out of my fingers.
Then the bowl is gone.
I sink into the cushy blanket, tempted to bury myself and hide.
I can’t even be a pet properly. I suppose I’ll go hungry until I learn how to hide my ridiculous reactions. That’s only fair.
I’m so lost in my head that when something lands next to me in the basket, I startle. It’s a bowl full of the magenta berries. Next to it is a smaller plate piled only with the green citrus wedges.
That can’t be right. What about diet diversity and micro-nutrients and?—
Razul grips my jaw gently but firmly, then presses something against the back of my throat. I gag, and he holds my jaw shut, tipping my head back and rubbing the front of my neck.
I swallow reflexively, and the foreign sensation disappears.
Did he just… give me a pill?
I can’t swallow pills. For years I’ve had a special exemption in my medical file to get liquid and chewable formulations because not even the most advanced ICSS psychiatrists could get me to swallow a pill.
And he just… did it for me?
Like you would for an animal.
Like you would for a pet.
