"Feeding period will begin in two minutes."

White lights. White cell. My eyes half open at the announcement.

Feeding tube. Hands still bound behind me. It occurs to me the food is drugged. Or the air. They change my pants again. This has happened many times, I realize.

They leave but this time my eyes stay open. It occurs to me that if I only had some ink I could write myself out of this. Luckily my skin is as numb as my brain. I suck a bit of lip between my teeth and chomp down hard. Not hard enough. I do it again, and again, and grind away till my mouth fills with that sweet iron taste.

I spit it out in a pool on the floor next to my face. I dab my tongue in it and try to paint a stroke but it's too drippy with saliva. I spit out more and stick my nose in it, then make the first stroke of a powerful glyph from the Third Level Metasymbolic Structural Language. It sticks. I dab my nose again and make another stroke. And then another.

"FREEZE! DO NOT MOVE! ROLL SLOWLY ONTO YOUR BACK AND REMAIN STILL!"

The lights turn red and a klaxon blasts through the cell. It barely registers as I dab my nose in the pool of blood and add the final stroke to the small but extremely powerful word I've painted on the floor. I whisper it to myself and--

BOOOOOOOM!

"And now you wrap it up in a pretty bow."

Dr. Alulim has me working on different kinds of words now. We spent the last couple of weeks working on more and more weaponized words, where I painted them in a reinforced blast container using remote hand controls. Less than 40% survived, but Dr. Alulim was giddy. The parchment they were painted on was rolled up and put in tubes, and now I'm writing "invitations" to go on them.

"The words you write now will be irresistible. Instead of explosive, destructive words, these are words of love, and longing. 'Come open me' they will say!"

It's becoming second nature to write whatever I want in the Third Level Metasymbolic Structural Language. He wants irresistible, come-hither words, I can do that. He examines them wearing special goggles, and that through a remote screen.

"Yes! Yes! I want... I want it! Whatever you say! I will obey!"

"What do you want these words for?" I ask.

"To put on the tubes! When your astronauts find the scrolls, they will not be able to help but open them. And when they open them, boom! Boom boom boom boom! Ha ha!"

Boom is right. The words I've been writing for him don't just explode--now they infect. They can take over the minds of whoever reads them, and turn them into madmen and killers. Turns them into homicidal maniacs, generals, religious leaders bent on destruction of entire species.

"My astronauts? What do you mean?"

"The visitors! To the space station! When our Greeting Center is full of fake rocks and fake dust, and the astronauts enter it and discover your scrolls. With your words, we will consume the Earth!"

This is what I've been writing? Bombs? Bombs and viruses?

"Now let's try a hard one."

Dr. Alulim has transferred me to a reinforced examination room. The windows are 12" thick composite carbon nanostructure--they're transparent, but nothing's going to break them.

A simple line drawing appears on the screen. At first it looks abstract, but isn't that a skull? Being held above a burning flame? I pick up my brush and start to doodle.

The luncheon was a big success. Dr. Alulim got the go-ahead to continue with the project. I still don't remember anything I said when I went up to speak, but whatever it was I'm a big hit. Dr. Alulim says I was accessing the Fourth Level Metasymbolic Structural Language, which is what he and the other six heads use to "talk business."

He wants me to reach the Third Level.

"Everyday language has been disarmed. Through time, all of the most powerful and dangerous words and ideas have been removed from the language. Purely for safety, you understand. To protect the human hosts. But as we travel upstream to the source of language, the words become more powerful."

Dr. Alulim has a lot of faith in my talent. He says it takes the greatest scientists in the world decades to unlock the Fourth Level, but I've done it in just a few weeks. Now he's showing me what he calls "trigger words," which are meant to evoke a response in my intuitive mind. I let my hand continue to move the brush on the paper, absently dabbing at the ink when I need it.

"EVERYBODY DOWN!!!!"

A thunderbolt explodes from the paper, blasting a hole through the wall and into the laboratory, debris flying everywhere.

Dr. Alulim is really happy with my work. I just started letting the brush flow, and now it's like it writes itself. I've written pages and pages in a language I don't understand, and he has a few of them projected on the walls of his office.

"Now, watch as I overlay the transparency"

Another slide comes into focus. Dr. Alulim adjusts it and moves it into position.

"It's an exact match. Even down to the most subtle brush strokes. Truly remarkable."

He asks me to attend a luncheon with the heads of the other six departments. They're a mix of bird headed people and fish people. Some of the fish people have human heads, some don't.

"Whatever you do, don't eat the food."

I notice Dr. Alulim gently move the food around his plate while he talks about funding with the planning director. His fork will almost reach his mouth when he suddenly remembers a question. Then he sets the fork back down and keeps talking. By the end of the meal his plate is clean, but none of it entered his mouth.

No one seemed to notice I didn't touch mine.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Distinguished Colleagues! I present @Binary Clam Jr.!"

Dumbfounded, I walk to the podium, alien hands patting me on the back.

I stand behind the lectern looking at the bird heads and fish heads and human heads and the big picture window looking out at the stars. I open my mouth and begin speaking in a language I don't understand.

The first couple of days at my internship were hard. I came here ready to work, but I didn't realize they gave interns such responsibility. I signed up to work on the welcome/greeting center for the Planet IX Orbital Station, and imagined it would be... construction? Wiring up flat screens? Instead, my group has been tasked with creating a new language.

Dr. Alulim is our boss, and he's really cool, and says that if we just keep watching the video streams in the VR goggles then it will eventually all be clear. We strap on the headsets and for 15 minutes at a stretch and watch as thousands of images flash at us. They go too fast to tell what they are, but it seems like old history footage: wars, crowds, animal sacrifice, explosions, babies crying, occasionally interrupted by simple patterns or diagrams. Then, the headsets come off and we're given some ink and a brush and told to "express ourselves" on a big sheet of paper. Dr. Alulim hasn't seemed to find what he's looking for, but he's really supportive. He wants us to keep trying.

A couple of the other interns have dropped out already. They were having nosebleeds and passing out, but Dr. Alulim says they're just still adjusting. There's some pills he gave us to take that are supposed to help. I'm exhausted, but ready to go at it again tomorrow!

Many of you didn't know this, but I came in illegally from future A1A31B through the World Trees. I found a wonderful and accepting home at Psychic High School, but I kept my status a secret because I was afraid of the Unified Reality Border Police and deportation back to A1A31B. But now through Psychic High School's Sanctuary Program, I'm not afraid to tell the story of who I really am.

It also means I'm eligible for work-study placement through he Astral Guidance Center, and just today I found out I got an internship with Nibiru Inc! I will be working on the welcome/greeting center for the Planet IX Orbital Station. It's such an honor, and only could have happened because of the incredible opportunities available to students at this wonderful place. Thank you, Psychic High School, thank you!