Personal Space Invaders (SOLO)

(3:14 AM)

The room was illuminated by the cold, dim light of the computer monitors. Walker sat at his cluttered desk, hunched over and transfixed by the walls of forum text and schematics on the haphazardly-arranged screens. The desktop computer's fans whirred away beneath the desk, providing a constant hum to contrast the tinny sounds of music escaping from the man's headphones. His foot silently drummed a complex and otherwise impossible-to-follow pattern in rhythm with the music on the carpeted floor. Periodically, he let out a small contemplative hum or a derisive snort over the contents of the screens. 

Not more than a few feet away, Walker's new-found pet was slowly acclimatizing to its surroundings. Although it only had a small amount of light to navigate by, it had managed to find the small brown ceramic dish nestled in the pine shavings in the middle of the cage. It was overflowing with sunflower seeds, what appeared to be dried pieces of fruit, and brown cylindrical pellets. As evidenced by the various bags of pet food that were slumped against the wall next to the cage, Walker had taken his typical scattershot approach. When prompted by the concerned-looking pet store clerk a number of hours earlier, he simply asked for one bag each of "whatever small animals eat". Anyone observing the contents would likely land on the conclusion that Walker seemed to have indulged in no small amount of enthusiasm regarding his pet store outing. The cage itself was rather large, such as those intended to house a guinea pig or a large rabbit, despite the unidentified creature being no larger than a softball. Beyond the food dish, the cage contained what could only be described as a "liberal, bordering on excessive" volume of pine shavings, a small blue plastic sand pail turned on its side, and a large wire-framed wheel. Next to the water bottle bolted to the side of the cage, a large yellow post-it note had been affixed, saying "UNIDENTIFIED PET: IN CASE OF MOGWAI, DO NOT EXPOSE TO WATER OR FEED AFTER MIDNIGHT". The note had been affixed by Walker. He had laughed about this to himself for a few hours, even though he was fully aware that he was likely the only person to ever see the note. As such, he had also broken the rules of the note several times. First, to see how the creature reacted to a light spritz from a spray bottle (not favorably), and several times around 1:00AM, when he dropped several frozen baby carrots through the top of the cage, which appeared to startle the creature. 

The creature pressed its face against the white metal bars and scanned the room. Most of it was cloaked in shadow, save for a few blinking lights on power bars. Many of the power bars were hooked to each other in ways that would make the average fire marshal involuntarily cry out in terror and outrage. No matter how much it tried, it couldn't seem to find any cracks in the strange box. The cold orange logs had provided it with a small volume of sustenance, and the spinning wheel had been enjoyable, but the creature felt a primal desire for freedom all the same. Maybe it was the effects of that saucer full of burning brown liquid that the biped had supplied it. Maybe that biped was really its mother. The creature couldn't hold both thoughts in its mind at the same time while this urge to escape still gripped it. Mother Biped or not, it had to get out. 

It took a gap in Walker's playlist for him to notice the repeated clangs emanating from the cage. He pulled the headphones off his ears and glanced over at the cage. The small creature had seemingly taken to tumbling forward at full speed in an attempt to break out of the cage. Walker climbed out of his chair for the first time in several hours and approached the cage. 
"God, you're not very bright, critter." he said, crouching down and lightly drumming his fingers on the top of the cage. "You're not even aiming for the little plastic hatch. That's the weak part."
The creature stared at him wide-eyed. Mother Biped was making noises again. 
Walker stared back. This continued for what felt like a small eternity.
"You look totally baffled. I knew a dog like you. As a kid, I mean." Walker said finally. "Lived next-door. He was this big black thing. Newfoundland, but I don't think the owner knew what breed he was. His name was Rex, and he'd run head first into fences, walls, people, whatever. My brother actually lost a tooth once because of that."
The creature sniffed the air and wandered over to the metal wheel.
"Roughly the same attention span, too. I guess 'Rex' is a good enough name for you, critter"
He stood up and glanced back at the computers. His focus was now thoroughly broken, and he was rapidly becoming aware of a heavy stinging feeling in his eyes. 
He approached the computer and shut it down. The monitors blinked briefly to their assorted brand-specific "No Connection" messages, then, one by one, went dark. 
"Time for bed, Rex. Sleep well, because you're coming with me on a walk tomorrow. I got you one of those little plastic pet carriers and everything"
The creature, which had yet to grow accustomed to the name "Rex", showed little interest. Instead, it climbed onto the wheel, unaware that it would soon learn to be mortally fearful of the words "pet carrier".