Exhibit

 Exhibit

         He slid into consciousness much like he did every day around this time. He could feel the breather strapped to the front of his face before he opened his eyes, much like every morning, catching the edge that covered the bridge of his nose. The vague sensation of limbs came to him as a memory suspended in the air. The fog of his surroundings remained thick for a few seconds before the fluid sensed his slow awakening and slowly began to turn clear, bringing his surroundings into focus. 

         Turning his head as far as he could, Number 1587 could make out the edges of his cube, its silver edges running to the top and bottom of his encasement. As the grogginess slowly worked out of his system, 1587 worked his arms suspended slightly in front of him, moving slightly back and forth, barely moving through the thick gel that encased him in the display. He managed to wiggle his fingers for a couple seconds before the liquid became clear and froze his extremities in place. As his body was set into its usual position for the beginning of his usual existence, he could feel the drugs work their way through the gel and into his system. When the jell took to clear, 1587’s nervous system clicked into standby mode. The last thing he felt was what had replaced the need of food filter into his body before the numbness took hold of him. 

         There was movement at the corner of 1587’s vision. There was a slow sense of movement just beyond the cube that encased him, although he was used to this. He had been through this many times in the past, shapes moving past his encasement to wherever their destination lay beyond. He could track some of the movement with his eyes given the fact that his whole head was frozen in place, allowing only his eyes to track movement. He followed the movement as far as he could, then moved his gaze to the next movement that came into the arch of his vision.

         The beginning moments of his waking was often spent in this fashion, until his encasement was moved into place. When he felt the familiar click that vibrated through the gel, he knew his waking time had begun. With the now clear gel slow swirling slowly around him, his eyes were beginning to become used to the soft like just beyond the encasement. He could make out undefined shapes moving past him from both directions. The movement was light at first, but he could see the traffic of the undefined shapes steadily increase. The closer the shapes came to the encasement, 1587 could see the slow chaotic movement that made up the body of the patrons. A faint memory of dry ice and white clouds rattled throughout his mind, as the patrons moved by, some stopping in from of him. The flow of mist seemed to not so much bend but, flow out to the area just at the base of the outside of the encasement, pausing for a few seconds, and then flowing back into its place. 

         “Hmm,” the flowing shape said. “I believe this one is new.” The shape seemed to float in the direction of a larger form, motioning toward the encasement. 

         “I think you’re right,” the other shape replied. “What does the display say at the bottom?”

         “Human,” the smaller shape said, in a slightly monotone voice. “One of the one thousand specimens left in existence.” 

         “Huh,” the larger shape said. “Must be part of that traveling exhibit that was added to the museum’s inventory.” 

         “That is correct,” another voice replied. A larger shape floated into view, being slightly larger than the two shapes in front of the encasement. “The museum recently purchased a couple of the traveling exhibit’s specimens when the exhibit’s owner decided to retire after almost twenty-five years.”

         “I see,” the larger of the two shapes said. “Do you know the history behind this one? It doesn’t look like a species that I am familiar with.”  

         “Oh yes,” the other said. “While this is a relatively new attraction, I have done a great amount of research into the history of this species.”

1587 thought he recognized the shape, its cloud like shape looking somewhat like the other two, but this one was greyer in color than the other two. 1587 did not know what the distinction was, but he thought it may have something to do with age. It was simply a guess, but it fit what he could remember from before. Although some of his memories would be purged when the gel would turn dark, announcing the time of rest, over time, even though he wouldn’t remember everything, some things would creep back into his mind. He didn’t remember his name, knowing that 1587 was not it, but maybe it would come to him eventually. 

“Well,” the shape started, cutting through the haze that made up 1587’s existence. “The species in front of you is, well, was a race known as Human. They lived in a section of space that is unknown to scholars even now.” The shape paused, looking at the pair in front of him, gauging their reactions. “As far as we can tell, much of their race took to the stars for one of two reasons, we think. Simply to explore, or, more likely, they were trying to escape their world, which scholars believe was dying. Why exactly, we are not sure. Whatever information we were able to uncover on this subject is very limited.”

“What about this subject specifically?” The white cloud asked the grey cloud. “Do you know anything about it?”

“A little,” the grey cloud replied. “The prior owner had a genealogy worked up some time ago, although not as complete as he had hoped.” The grey cloud floated closer to the encasement. “It would appear that the subject was what was called a manual laborer, although some pieces of information show the subject didn’t necessarily picture himself as that. The subject was quite a multifaceted thinker. This one did what he could to at least try to better himself.”

“Is that unusual?” The smaller cloud asked.

“In some cases,” the grey cloud replied. 

“Why?”

“Hard to say,” Grey cloud replied. “As with all different kinds of species, what drives their goals in existence are up to the individual, much like our people. Unlike us though, it’s not always an easy path. Sometimes, a variety of forces work against you.”

“Is that how they came to be here?” the younger cloud asked. 

“That is a mystery,” Grey cloud said. “While the actual cause is not known, it is believed that this subject was part of a larger whole that found their way to our race. We found that the species, for the most part, are relatively easy to repair. Most of their ailments were easily reversable, even the aging process. Where our lifespan is measured in centuries, this species was lucky to live close to seventy, maybe eighty, years. After some manipulation, scientists found that they could slow, even preserve the subjects, and that lead to the specimen encased in front of you.”

“The case?” Little cloud said. 

“Not quite,” grey cloud replied. “The gel inside the encasement preserves the subject, while, at the same time, keeps them at a near conscious state for limited periods of time. At the end of the show, the gel darkens, and the subject soon falls into a form of hibernation until the next showing.”

“Are they aware of their surroundings?” the larger cloud asked.

“We cannot be sure,” Grey cloud said. “In all my time at the museum, I am not aware of communications with any of the subjects, much less subject 1587.”

“Have you tried?” Little cloud asked, a slight tone of defiance in the voice. 

Grey cloud chuckled at the younger cloud. “We monitor all our subjects daily. Any attempt would be logged, and the staff would respond immediately.”

“Well,” Large cloud said. “at least there’s that.”

“Still seems sad,” Little cloud mumbled.

“It does,” Grey cloud replied. “But one can only do what we can. If there ever was any sign that subject 1587 ever tried to communicate, I promise I would do everything in my power to treat them accordingly.”

Little cloud seemed to be satisfied with that response, moving closer to the encasement. The mist extended out, swirling across the clear surface before retracting back into their form and turning back towards the larger cloud. 

“Are you ready?” the larger cloud asked.

“Yes,” Little cloud said. 

Both turned back to Grey Cloud, seemingly to bow slightly at the shape before turning back towards the doorway. He watched them go, and then floated back around towards Subject 1587, noticing the breather just below the slightly hazy eyes, probably an effect from the now-clear gel. He began to wonder when maintenance was due on the encasement, thinking about what the little cloud had asked. Maybe he could use that opportunity to try to communicate with Subject 1587. 

“Maybe,” Grey Cloud said aloud, moving away from the encasement. 

Behind the encasement, Subject 1587 moved his eyes towards the shape moving away from him. He remembered some of what Grey Cloud had said. He remembered his home. Soon, he would remember his name, and with that, he would communicate. 

Soon.