No Boundaries

No one paid her much mind, and Clara liked it that way. For the most part, people were selfish fools full of insipid complaints and self-serving ideas. They judged others by what they saw, and made assumptions about people based on obsolete knowledge and hearsay. There were exceptions to her mental model of the human race, but they were rare in her experience.

Such human failings were the reason that all of the educated and worldly staff of the Blackburne Institute kept forgetting that though she'd long ago lost the ability to speak, Clare was by no means deaf. Far from it. In fact, she'd always had excellent hearing. The staff still yelled when they spoke to her, smiling in the same patronizing fashion everyone used, oblivious to the thin white cord that attached her ear buds to the ever present iPod on her hip.

The most irritating consequence of this misperception was when the staff held personal conversations with her in the room, assuming their secrets were safe in the presence of the "deaf girl." At these times, Clara kept her music volume up as high as she could stand it, though when the discussion grew heated, the older iPod couldn't drown out everything.

In general, she didn't care about the minor troubles that went on around her. These people were not like her. The lives they led were privileged, enjoying the benefits of the education and social stature their parents' money bought them. At first, the love spats and office politics had been mildly amusing. Lately, though, the conversations had changed. The higher ranked doctors spoke in clusters, eyes full of fear. Something strange was going on, and it took effort not to give in to her curiosity to find out what it was.

Clara wrung out her mop and set the bucket behind the curtain on the lower shelf of her cart. She pushed the heavy cart down the hallway and stopped at the women's bathroom to empty her bucket. Two women in long white lab coats looked up as she entered. They met her gaze for no more than a second before the suspicion left their eyes and both turned back to each other to continue their conversation.

Clara turned away from the doctors and carefully pulled her bucket off the cart. The music shifted to a softer song, and she could just catch the words being spoken over the sloshing sound of the dirty water into the sink.

"I told you, I've tried every reasonable method, but she won't speak a word. We're no closer to knowing where she came from and what she is than we were weeks ago."

"Why is she still here?"

"I told Doctor Andres he should give up on the girl. It's a waste of the institute's money and time. She's an oddity, nothing more interesting than that."

Clara wondered for a moment if they meant her, but then—just as quietly as the worry gripped her—it vanished. No one could say the institute was wasting money on her salary. She worked six nights a week and made less than even the guards. She turned on the faucet so the water ran into her metal bucket at no more than a quiet stream, eager to know more.