They had been working for a few months now with the havenworlders, who had gotten quite used to hearing them wake up screaming but it broke their crewmates' hearts to hear it each night. A de-regger rescue who was still learning that the world was not as cruel as they believed. The companion goes in one sleep cycle as the human begins to whimper and thrash in the special sleeping bag. A gentle hand petting the hair, a soft, trilling, lullaby, the human settles back into slumber reaching out to hold their friend's hand, a very, very gentle squeeze of sleepy gratitude. -- Anon Guest
Not every Human is capable of bouncing back from utter deprivation. In a world where children are 'freeloaders' but every baby has the right to be born, there are many cruelties wearing the sheep's clothing of charity. The people who made these worlds wanted to exist in an era of rofantasised[1] glory, and succeeded in recreating a great many of the factual and historical torments for those they dislike.
Sweatshops, workhouses, prison sentences for poverty, depersonalisation that went hand in hand with pointless labor. Slavery that was everything about slavery except the name. True evil in all its depravity, with blatantly treating people as things. Most of them are known as Deregger Worlds, where all that matters is the making of money by those who already have too much.
Human Roi was a Rescue from one of those Deregger worlds. Taken by force from a slaver colony by the CRC. Rehabilitated to a point, and leased with caveats to the Fiscal Upside with the condition that their therapy continued at a comfortable pace. The Neotomin aboard pretty much fell in love with Human Roi when they referred to the crew collectively as "My ratties." Then they learned about the Workhouse Howl.
There was a reason why Human Roi's personal habitat included soundproofing, but they still heard it. Starting as a low moan, and rising into an anguished howl in the otherwise peaceful ships' night. It escaped, like many things, through the air vents, and caused the Neotomin great distress.
Companion Timur was so agitated that they used the emergency code to enter Roi's habitat. They found their Ships' Human curled in a tight ball and yowling in utter anguish. Worse, they flinched and flailed in alarm as Timur attempted to soothe them.
"You are safe," Timur recited. "You are among friends. Do you wish to run your senses?"
"No. No. I'm... I'm here with you." Translated, I'm not having a bad flashback. "I'm okay." That was plainly a lie.
"You were crying out."
Human Roi got up and made a soothing tea that smelled of hot water and would taste like a floral perfume smelled, but also cloyingly sweet. Chamomile. Safe for Havenworlders like the Neotomin, but also mild medication for Human Roi. "You weren't warned, were you? About the workhouse howl?"
"I was made aware that you may be... alarmed by peculiar things. I was not told about your howling."
"Damnit. The paperwork's lagging. Sorry. I... grew up in a workhouse. My first job was turning a crank for nothing but the noise, just so I'd have air clean enough to not cause brain damage. I was two."
"That is criminal."
"I know that now. There's rules in workhouses. You don't interact with the opposite sex at all. You don't talk. You don't touch. They even put us in sort of... all-over onesies for cot sharing. So nothing immoral would happen. Well. What they thought was immoral. We were taught enough to read and write and do basic mathematics. Once a year some... glittering person would come in and pick out one of the kids. We never found out why. Sometimes they had a tape measure. Anyway. When every second of your life is regulated... you do the things they can't control. You're not allowed to talk, so you scream. But only after lights-out, when the wardens have locked you in. They're going to wake you up with a beating anyway so what's the point of obedience?"
"You are free to decide for yourself when you sleep, who you speak with... everything."
"Yeah." Roi sipped their tea. "This helps. I can get up and make myself tea. I can get up and order a printed sandwich. Hell, I can get up and go pee." A laugh that had nothing to do with humour. "They used to whip bed-wetters. Of any age. Make everyone else watch." The teacup clattered as it returned to its saucer. "Every time I wake up, I do it with the terror that this was all a fever-dream and..."
Timur wracked their memories for anything that may help. "Human children are often given a soft and fluffy thing to hold to abate terrors in the night. Would you... would you like a sleeping companion?"
"You'd do that?"
"I am your Companion. I seek to fulfil the needs of your emotional betterment."
Tentative, still half-afraid of retribution from the phantoms of authority, Roi reached out to pet Timur's fur. "I used to make friends with the workhouse rats. You're softer than they are. If you don't mind me snobbling[2] in the back of your neck, we can try it for a while."
"As long as I can share your personal hygiene unit the morning after, I am certain I shall be fine."
It was a rough road to walk, for certain, and Human Roi may never grow accustomed to the easier way of life now that they were free, but the job of a Companion was to help the Human. With anything they needed.
[1] Portmenteau of "romanticised" and "fantasised". To look back on the past through rose-tinted glasses and purposely obfuscate the ugly little details.
[2] The kind of very dribbly crying that involves more leakage from facial orifii than should be plausible. It's just as ugly as you think it is, and twice as messy.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / Arsgera]
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