Chapter Text
“The sun is shining from your windo-ow, drenching your room in liiiiight~!”
The first lyrics to the popular pop song, ‘Most of Your Lifetime,’ began to play from a round, yellow alarm clock shaped like a sun with golden, triangular rays extending from it. The female singer’s voice steadily rose towards the end of the line, like a feather being slowly lifted into the air by a passing wind. While the song itself wasn’t too loud, the volume level it was placed at absolutely was and was more than enough to startle awake anyone asleep.
Assumedly, at least, since never once had the alarm clock actually been given the chance to wake up the occupant of the room it was situated in. After all, Dogday always seemed to push away the covers of his bed and ascend from it as soon as the earliest signs of the sun rising — its subtle appearance at the base of the atmosphere, the heavy line of marigold gradually crawling up with it — began to show. Viewing the magnificent sight of warm colors bubbling up in the sky before filling it completely as the bright sun regally returned to its esteemed spot was a magical experience that always started his day off great. He wouldn’t miss watching it — not if he could help it. He needed as much joy in his life as he could garner, given how little happiness the world was full of.
Still, he made sure to set an alarm for the latest possible time he was capable of staying in slumber in case he ever decided to sleep in longer than usual.
He never did.
“It’s time to wake up now, for there is no more niiiiight~!”
The upbeat song continued to blast from his alarm, which was displaying the current time of 6:40 a.m., and he allowed it to, not bothering to turn it off. He didn’t have much to do at the moment, since he had already finished his morning routine of preparing himself for work due to the early time he had woken up.
He had efficiently brushed his teeth into a pearly white state, partially combed through his orange fur (which had become slightly matted) before finding it much too effort to fix it fully, and swiftly changed into his job uniform: A faded, yellow polo shirt paired with beige chino pants. Scattered around the hem of the short sleeves and the bottom of the shirt were large amounts of twisted, looping confetti in the colors of dull red and blue. Clipped onto the top right corner of his polo was a laminated name tag with rainbow bubble letters spelling the store’s name, Forever Young, and his name written beneath in bold.
The clothes had originally been vibrant and bursting with brilliant energy, harmonious with the environment of a toy store. Yet, as they grew accustomed to their wearer, they were gradually drained of their life, much like the canine they enveloped every day.
“Soo…wake up, wake up! It’s timeeee…”
Dogday sat on the edge of his bed, his paws loosely gripping the side of his soft, apricot-colored mattress. His head was lowered, long ears flattened down against the opposing angles of it, as he stared vaguely at the brown, wooden floorboard; his gaze unfocused as it fixated on nothing in particular. His vision was blurred, everything in his line of sight being just fuzzy blotches of various colors. He had been seated like this for quite a long time by now. At least, he assumed so. He wasn’t exactly sure. He wasn’t good at keeping track of time nor did he care enough to try to.
He listened to the song with mere boredom, the lyrics barely registering in his mind. He could only make out the beat of the music as it danced up and down in terms of tune. It was peppy and overflowing with spirit. While he wasn’t giving it his fullest attention, the song did sound fun from what he did hear and was the type of thing that he should probably listen to if he ever got into one of his moods. Maybe, if he was lucky, it could help him. It wouldn’t, nothing ever could.
He didn’t recognize the voice of the singer, meaning that she was either new to the music industry or he had just never listened to her before.
I should check her out sometime, he thought to himself drearily, though without any real desire to, since such an action would require him to muster up energy he just didn’t have within him.
“...to get up, get up; I promise it’ll be worthwhile.”
Finally, he blinked, clearing his previously foggy eyesight back to its normal state, allowing him to see with clarity once more. His room came back into focus with the act, the floor no longer just bleary smears. He blinked a couple more times, his hollow, black eyes opening and closing, before turning his head to glance back at his sunny alarm. It was positioned on top of a white horizontal dresser, covered with childish drawings of suns, that was placed next to the front right side of his bed. At the moment, the time presented on the alarm clock read 6:41 a.m.: A minute later than it had been when the wake-up alarm had first started to play.
He released a deep sigh and lifted his paw to the top of his face to massage his forehead. He then pulled his paw away and instead used it to reach towards the miniature clock with the intention of shutting it off.
“We only have so long ‘til we die, so make the most of your lifetime.”
This line was sung quieter than the others, in the tone of how someone would normally speak. The singer’s voice solely grew in volume on the word ‘life.’ The lyric was a stark contrast to all of the previous ones due to the difference in how it was handled vocally, emphasizing the importance of it.
It was as if the song was aware that he was planning to turn it off and decided to follow with a satisfying softness to emit the illusion of a conclusion.
His index finger pressed down on the ‘Stop’ button and the song ceased its music, like it hadn’t been playing at all. In its place, silence suddenly seized the bedroom, crushing the slight solace that had begun to flow through the room until there was nothing left of it. The quiet was too much, it felt like it was suffocating him. He needed to leave, to go somewhere distracting enough that he had no capability of listening to his thoughts. Now.
He straightened the posture of his back before rising from the spot he had been perched on on his bed. His head twisted and turned to face every angle, searching for the black, multicompartment backpack and tall, tawny water bottle he carried everywhere. As his eyes scanned his surroundings, he finally noticed them resting on a wide table through the doorway to the living room.
His feet traveled across the ground, stopping only once they reached the destination of the table. He quickly grabbed the items, gingerly pushing the bottle into a small space behind tight netting on the side of the backpack and slinging the bag onto his shoulders.
Afterwards, he wasted no time at all as he hurried his pace to the dove-white front door, shoving it open as he left his apartment.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
High buildings and skyscrapers that reached as far up in the sky as the puffy clouds towered over Dogday from all around as he strolled down a cracked, concrete sidewalk. Small businesses of several different types — bakeries, hair salons, electronic stores — were nestled beside the path, the owners inside eagerly awaiting any potential customers they could gain.
A marionette with an appearance reminiscent of a pale flower stood in front of a window box filled with a bouquet of roses, dipping a navy blue watering can forward to moisten them. The action caused an earthy scent of wet soil to flutter through the air and tickle his trigonal nose. A large, white sign that was carved into the form of a flower with long, thin petals was hung upon a silver chain from the top of the shop she was standing near. Labeled on it in graceful, yellow cursive was the title, Blooming Blossoms.
Stretching his mouth into a joyful smile, Dogday beamed at the florist, giving her a polite wave.
“Good morning, Daisy! Your flowers are looking pretty as always,” he greeted her cheerfully.
She was one of the many small business owners who occupied the area. Blooming Blossoms had been established a month ago, remodeled from what had been previously a convenience store until struck with bankruptcy. Since he frequently traversed the walkway that the flower shop was situated by, he had immediately taken notice of it upon its first day opening. With enough time to spare before arriving to his workplace, he had decided to walk inside and check it out, browsing the wide variety of plants and flowers.
Out of the corner of his eye, though, he had spotted Daisy hovering by the cash register, leaves clasped tightly together behind her back. Realizing that she was most likely new to the city of Hemopolis and must have moved there fairly recently, he believed that it was his personal duty to make sure that she felt welcomed. So, with an objective in mind, he had approached her and initiated friendly conversation. It was then that his original meeting with her had occurred. They had developed a routine of interacting with each other almost every morning ever since.
Daisy paused in her motion of watering the roses and glimpsed back at him, a grin forming on her face as a warm tenderness coursed through her blue eyes, lighting up her expression. She bowed her head downwards momentarily out of respect, petals faintly falling over her honey-colored disk floret.
“Thank you! Good morning to you, too, Dogday,” she responded in a chipper voice, gazing at him with endearment. Her smile then drifted into a small line as she seemed to ponder something in her mind. She bent down briefly to place the watering can on the gray pavement, emptying her leaves of the object they were holding, so that she could fidget with them.
“Would you…” Her voice trailed off and her two front leaves wrapped around her arms, holding them firmly as she anxiously squeezed them. She attempted to speak again, this time much more slowly as she carefully articulated each word, “Would you like to grow somewhere sometime? As a friend, of course. I mean, if we could be friends..?”
She looked at him with anticipation, her eyes now wide open, nervous from the vulnerability on her side of the situation. Dogday simply stared blankly at her, waiting for her request to (officially) be friends and socialize outside of their short meetings to make him feel something. Anything at all. Amusement, shock, happiness. Just — something.
Yet, he still felt nothing at all. He was hollow, devoid of any and all emotion seemingly. A mere shell of the jolly canine he formerly was. He may have been living on the outside, but he was dead on the inside.
Not that he could ever let anyone know that, though. If anyone found out what he was truly like, then they would make the terrible mistake of burdening themselves with trying to fix him, to make him feel better. They didn’t deserve to waste their time and energy on caring for him, so he would make sure that they never received the chance to. And that required maintaining a mask of jovial normalcy — a charade he had perfected at this point.
He continued to wear a grin on his face, though it held no real sincerity or glee behind it. He clapped his paws together, imitating excitement towards her offer.
“Sure! I would love to hang out with you as best buds,” he exclaimed, winking on the last word to highlight his pun. A high pitched giggle echoed out of Daisy’s mouth as she laughed, shielding her lips by covering them with a green leaf, as if she could hide and mute the noise by doing so. Once she had finally calmed down, she directed her attention back to him.
“How would you feel about going to the Cozy Café? This Saturday, five o’clock?” she suggested, raising one of her arms straight up while tilting the other one downwards to the side to mimic the clock hands for the time she mentioned. Her stalks were very long, allowing her to perform strange motions with them with ease whereas others would have suffered severe discomfort just from attempting the acts. Something that she was lucky to have in her favor, since she loved to do the most nonsensical tricks with her body parts. He wondered if she did gymnastics by any chance. If she didn’t, then he should propose to her the idea of trying it out sometime. Not now, though.
He nodded his head vigorously. “That sounds great!” he agreed, his tone dripping with exaggerated enthusiasm. “I’ve never been there before either, so it’ll be a new experience for me.” He truly hadn’t been to the place before, so it should definitely, at the very least, be of some type of interest to him.
…
Right?
…
What was he even thinking about? This wasn’t about him. None of it was. Why was he being so selfish, only thinking about what he could potentially attain from the encounter? He was doing it for Daisy — because she deserved any and every drop of happiness that she could scavenge up. Everyone did. And if their jubilation depended solely on him, then it was his responsibility to do whatever was needed for them to experience it. Even if it meant forcing himself to commit to something that he personally didn’t want to or feel like doing at the moment. Any desires he had were of lesser importance than theirs. He simply just didn’t matter as much as anyone else.
Returning his focus back to the one it should have been on the entire time, Dogday watched as his friend’s eyes widened, twinkling with excitement as she realized precisely what he told her.
“Oh! Really? Well, it’s a daffodilightful café! I think that you’ll love it. You should probably get going, though. You don’t want to be late for your job, after all,” she teased him good naturedly, gesturing toward the rest of the sidewalk.
“Oh, right— Thanks for reminding me. I maybe would’ve lost my job if not for you, haha. Well, gotta go. Bye!” he rushed out his words quickly, turning away as soon as he said his goodbye to bolt down the concrete path. The wind whipped harshly at his face as he gained speed, determined to be punctual.
…
Wait… How far behind was he? He had left his apartment earlier than usual to avoid…stuff…so if anything he should be good on time, right? But, then again, he had talked longer with Daisy than he typically did, so that could’ve put him off-schedule. He considered for a moment checking his watch to discover just how much time he had spent and paused, so that he could scan his wrist. A second later, as he looked down upon a wrist that was very much absent of any time-telling device, he suddenly remembered that he didn’t own a watch. Whoops.
He stood there awkwardly for a minute, caught off-guard by his own stupidity, before resuming his dash to his workplace. His head swiveled around to view various different directions, searching for some type of clock to be apparent on any of the buildings surrounding him. However, unfortunately for him, there seemed to be none in any visible proximity near him. That’s fine. He would just have to take the fastest route to ensure that he didn’t accidentally waste any more time.
He reached a circular corner at the end of the sidewalk and, instead of turning left to cross the charcoal black street like he normally did, sprinted to the right of it down a dark alleyway, littered with crinkled newspapers and open cardboard boxes with words messily scribbled on them in sharpie. He tended to avoid this path, since it led to one of the worst areas in Hemopolis, but it also provided the best shortcut for when he was low on time. He definitely needed to be quick now, since he held no intention of staying in the section for too long.
As he departed the narrow alley, he surveyed the district, white pupils wandering and analyzing it. The streets were eerily empty, nearly devoid of the lively presence of other experiments. No one dared to go outside and the few that were — seated down on benches, cardboard signs displaying requests for money or help lying next to them — desperately wished not to be. It was like a ghost town, occupied only by the small cluster of poor experiments haunting it, their soulless eyes reflecting their loss of hope in the world as they barely bothered to cling onto existence. Their lingering inhabitance unsettled him more than if the domain had been abandoned completely, since, despite being among the living, they weren’t truly alive. It was disturbing to think about just how deeply he understood them in that context.
Rust the color of embers encased multiple streetlights, some of which were snapped in half, the part with the headlight dangling down. They barely illuminated light to the point that he couldn’t imagine how dark the area would be during the night. The noticeable lack of a cozy glow shimmering from above, warming the hearts of those below with a comforting brightness, only contributed to the chilling atmosphere that prickled his fur, raising the individual strands on his arms and legs.
Splatters of dried crimson were stained everywhere, shrouding the walls of structures, broken roads, and walkways.
Dogday accelerated his pace, his feet progressing through the environment much faster. He lowered his head, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He slowed down to step carefully over strips of moldy flesh, darkened from age; a thick, rotten stench rising from them that made him feel nauseous. Once he was past the decaying meat, he returned back to his previous speed and continued to trek on, even if he now felt unbearably sick to his stomach.
Eventually, after following his route further through the tragic territory, his fuzzy ears perked up, lifting themselves marginally off of his head. A startling mix of high and low voices could be heard from somewhere in the distance, becoming louder the more he advanced down the sidewalk. His eyes instinctively traveled in the direction of the strange assortment of noise, his heart proceeding to thump rapidly as the nausea swirling within him amplified.
It’s not… Please tell me it’s not..! he pleaded mentally, desperately hoping that what he dreaded wasn’t actually true. Now, more than ever before, did he severely wish to be wrong.
His crescent-shaped tail tucked itself between his gaunt legs as he struggled to suppress his desire to puke that was growing increasingly apparent. He despised the anxiety that he bore, he despised that this misery was the most he had felt in days, and he despised this desolate society. He loathed the world he had to live in and yearned to free himself from it, to break the mortal chains trapping him within it.
He couldn’t, though. He didn’t have the energy to do so. Besides, it was selfish thinking that shouldn’t at all be fulfilled. Especially since so many others desired to stay in the world longer, but were unable to. Others, most likely like one of the speakers he currently heard and was beginning to see as they came into view up ahead.
A scarlet dinosaur with a tall, slim neck had tears streaming out of his puffy eyes like a pair of mini rivers, drenching his cheeks. Trembling forefeet were wrapped around his mouth as whimpers poured out between shaky begs of “Please!” directed toward the sheep who stood still next to him, unphased by his cries. Her thick, coily, black wool was styled in the form of an afro with long bangs that hid the right side of her face. A pearlescent, silver mask concealed the upper half of it from underneath the massive bang — all of the upper half except for her left eye, which revealed a carefully crafted expression of serenity; no emotion or feeling showcased from within it.
An ebony shirt with ornate lace trimmed along the edges was fitted on her, along with ripped shorts that were embroidered with crossed bones. Layered on the top was loose, dark cloth that flowed to her chest and blew lightly in the air, thin ripples forming on it as it did. A narrow, argent stole extended from her shoulders and descended all the way down them to her waist. And, suspended from her neck as the center-piece of her outfit, was a large, bony, white skull pendant, hung onto a thin cord.
Dogday’s eyes widened, pupils dilated and flitting around. He clasped his mouth, hunching over as he gagged, bile pooling up in his throat from the distress storming around within him.
He had been correct, to his despair.
Only one thought raced in his mind: Go, GO, GO!
But, every movement, every single act he performed with his limbs, only made him more nauseous, the puke threatening to spill out from his mouth if he moved too much too fast.
His legs weakly progressed forward, wobbly sprinting as he choked on a taste of bitterness. They were still far up ahead — he would never make it past them at this pace before — before—
…
“Bron Saurus,” the black sheep addressed the dinosaur, her tone low and neutral. She glanced cooly down at him, her eyes narrowing with disinterest. He shrank under her scrutinization, neck bending to lower his head.
“N-No! Please…” Bron implored her through a cracked voice and quivering lip.
“Your time to compensate for our great lord’s deed of unshackling us o’ so many years ago from the imprisonment and brutality we faced at the hands of Harley Sawyer has arrived,” she decreed formally, continuing with the statement. “In return for granting us the gift of salvation, it is your duty to ensure that his reign lasts for eternity by offering up your legs.”
She stopped, leaving only the sobs of the brontosaurus near her to disrupt the silence of the space. She simply stood there quietly, waiting.
That was how it remained for a short moment.
And then.
“No… No, I won’t let you take my — my legs.”
Dogday hastened his pace, floppy ears pinning against his head. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, the force he used to keep them closed arduous. He was met with an inky abyss of nothingness that faded into hues of bright red and orange like he was watching a sunrise. The unnatural explosion of colors twirling around in front of the vision he was left with caused his head to ache, but he pushed on despite the pain; his eyes remaining closed.
He blindly rushed forward, his legs running somewhere he wasn’t able to view. However, the firm, fractured concrete lying beneath his feet provided a solid reminder of where he was, grounding him to the reality he had been attempting to escape.
He was going to throw up, that was for sure. He intended to try and evade it happening as long as possible, though.
The voices of the two toys were still within reach due to their close proximity, allowing him to be aware of the situation, even through his efforts to elude it.
“Is that your final choice? You do understand that by choosing not to comply, I’ll have to take matters into my own hands, right?” the sheep inquired imperturbably, determining that Bron was completely certain with his decision.
“Yes.”
The one word was uttered with such confidence and bravery that Dogday had to bite his tongue to suppress a whimper of commiseration.
He heard the long exhale of a sigh. He wanted to say that it was one of disappointment, but his skilled ears discerned the faintest chuckle right after.
“Alright then… So be it,” she said, her voice lined with an edge as sharp as a knife. Emotion, for the first time, finally leaked into her tone as a dark cheerfulness lit it up towards the end.
There was a glittering noise that was closely followed by the rush of wind from an object falling. Strange stillness. Then, a swiiish sound filled the air before turning into a slicing one.
After that?
An agonizing, blood-curling scream. It was deafening, conquering the volume levels of all of the previous sounds. Around the same time, there was a thud as something was knocked onto the ground. A dampness was audible from a liquidy substance splashing onto pavement.
Another slice as an item pierced through something solid, intensifying the screeches of the pitiful victim. Once more, there was a thud and wet splash.
Swish, slice, THUD, SPLASH.
There were no more shouts, no more howls of terror. Only loud sobs formed from excruciating suffering. Ones that would eventually cease into a hushed silence upon the impending death of the severed toy, the conscious remnants of his body left abandoned to rot and decay. A fate shared by several others living there. After all, there was a reason why that section of the city had been dubbed, Disembodiment Domain.
What Bron was experiencing was the final event that awaited the lives of every toy, excluding those of a higher status: The time of Compensation.
Once you reached the point in your life where you were deemed ‘useless’ to society, a certain amount of your limbs were chosen to be removed from your body for the purpose of stabilizing and expanding the lifespan of Ludwig’s ruler — the Prototype.
The number of parts you were forced to sacrifice depended on how lucrative you were to the nation of Ludwig. The more beneficial you were to society, the less limbs you had to spare. And if you were supposedly of minimal use? Well…surely you’re capable enough to fill in the blanks.
When your Compensation arrived, you were expected to peacefully accept the situation without much hesitance or difficulty. You would then be transported to the location of a local hospital, where a licensed surgeon would professionally amputate the body parts you were assigned with losing, allowing for a chance of survival.
However, if you refused?
You would be mercilessly slaughtered at the hands of a member from a governmental organization known as E.E.S. — an acronym which stood for “Experiment Execution Squad.” They were more commonly referred to as Executioners, due to their role and the name of their originating group.
With the existence of Compensation, everyone had a limited time to live, making each individual second precious. Which was why it was so significant to Dogday that every experiment he met endured a life of great jubilation, since they deserved to live with joy — everyone deserved to.
Except for him.
But, that was fine. As long as he could make sure that every other experiment did, he was fine.
…
Vomit spouted out of his mouth as he bent over the curb of the final walkway, the disquietude storming around in the pit of his stomach finally becoming too much to handle.
Despite how he was now a great distance away from the Executioner and the dying dinosaur, his ears could still vaguely make out cries for help; ones that would haunt him for the rest of his days.