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“Absolutely not!”
Shadow blinks slowly, taken aback by the young girl’s intensity. The predicament at hand hardly warrants such fervor, he thinks. Then again, Shadow doesn’t think much about anything beyond what is asked of him.
(It’s an adjustment for sure, being awake and aware.)
Conversely, the girl — Maria, the Professor’s kin, you must protect her — appears to be thinking about many things and struggling to voice them all at once.
“Grandfather, you can’t possibly expect him to—” Maria huffs. “Shadow just woke up! Just because he’s fully grown doesn’t mean he’s not a baby!”
Shadow’s snout wrinkles. He has enough implanted recollections of what a newborn is supposed to be like — feeble, helpless — to know he is anything but. He makes his dissent known with a grunt.
Maria turns to him. “You are! A very strong and capable one, but a baby nonetheless! No one leaves a newborn to fend for himself.” She taps her chin thoughtfully. “Well, some species do, but that’s besides the point!”
“Maria, dear, you must understand,” Professor Gerald places a hand on Maria’s shoulder. “There is a reason I assigned Shadow his own quarters, and I assure you they are most comfortable. It simply isn’t advisable—”
“I’m not letting him sleep alone.”
“...Though Shadow has proven to be exceptional in every aspect, there is further testing to do. Considering prior prototypes, it isn’t unreasonable to expect abrupt behavioral changes. He could become rather…” Gerald’s eyes meet Shadow’s, calculating and apologetic in equal measure, “...erratic.”
Dangerous, Shadow hears clear as day. It’s a sound assessment, the thrumming of his golden limiters a reminder of what he’s capable of. What he was made for. Shadow cannot disagree.
It sits heavy in the pit of his stomach regardless.
“Well, duh!” A little hand wraps around Shadow’s. He is yanked to Maria’s side. “If it were my first night alive, I’d feel really lonely and scared! That’d make anyone lash out!”
Shadow bristles. The Ultimate Lifeform fears nothing. “I’m not—”
“But Shadow won’t hurt me, I know it.” Maria clasps Shadow and Gerald’s hands together and grips them tight. “Please, Grandfather, let Shadow sleep in my room just this once. You wouldn’t let me be alone if it were me, right?”
For a long moment, Shadow is certain the Professor will not budge. His expression doesn’t change as he looks from Shadow to Maria, back and forth, his inner calculations palpable in the sterile lab air.
But then Gerald deflates with a heaving sigh. “...Very well. Just this once.”
“Yes!” Maria hops in place, swinging Shadow’s arm in her excitement. “Thank you, thank you! You’ll see, we’ll—”
“But!” Gerald raises a finger. “He must report to the lab first thing in the morning and you absolutely mustn’t exert yourself.”
Maria nods repeatedly. “I promise. Double promise. Pinky swear!”
“And if anything happens, you must promise me you’ll—”
“Yes, yes, I know.” Maria gives Gerald a hug, then all but drags Shadow out of the lab. “G’night, Grandpa, love you!”
“I love you, t—ack! Maria, wait! Please be careful!” Gerald calls out, but Maria isn’t listening. Only Shadow glances back at his despairing creator and his outstretched hand. He looks small. Pitiful. Like a puppet with its strings cut. It’s discomfiting, but an order hasn’t been issued. Should Shadow turn back?
Maria’s hand squeezes tighter. It’s warm. It beckons.
Shadow’s mind is made. “Goodnight, Professor.”
The path to the dormitory wing would be unremarkable for anyone aboard the ARK except for Shadow. He quickly forgoes cataloguing things in his mind, for there is simply too much for him to process. Human scientists mill about and greet Maria as they pass, shooting Shadow curious (and sometimes alarmed) looks. Sleek metal doors slide open before them, revealing corridor after corridor of harsh fluorescent lights and dials Shadow doesn’t comprehend. The pristine floor echoes with Shadow’s every step. His hands chafe inside his new gloves. The floor-to-ceiling windows looking out into the inky vastness of space leave him light-headed, yet he can’t look away.
“That’s home, Shadow. The Earth.” Maria points at the enormous blue planet the ARK orbits, floating proud amidst swirling nebulas and stars. Foreign recollections of it flood Shadow’s mind rapid-fire. It’s beautiful. It’s terrible. His head throbs. “And one day you’ll come back with us.”
Will I? Shadow’s fingers twitch in Maria’s grasp. The Earth seems so distant, a mighty fall from where they are. He doesn’t reply, but Maria doesn’t seem to mind, busy regaling Shadow with tidbit after tidbit about the Earth as they carry on. Her enthusiasm should be overwhelming, a tipping point for his overworked senses.
Instead, it’s a lifeline Shadow clings to with all his might.
He almost bumps into Maria when she suddenly halts in front of a door. Shadow doesn’t need to read the name on the plaque to know it’s her room, for it is plastered with stickers of all shapes and colors.
Maria takes a steadying breath. “Are you ready?”
Is there something to be ready for? Shadow nods.
Maria inputs a code that Shadow quickly memorizes, and the door slides open.
Shadow gapes.
It’s a small chamber with simple furnishings, dimly lit by a string of colorful lights and a smattering of phosphorescent stars glued to the ceiling. The hospital bed surrounded by medical equipment would be the most ARK-like section if it weren’t for all the plush toys threatening to bury it entirely. In fact, every inch of the room is covered in something: little trinkets, faded photographs and notes meet Shadow’s gaze wherever he looks. It’s… chaotic. It’s…
Comfortable, Shadow thinks as he wanders inside. Personal. Books pile high on a writing desk, titles ranging anywhere from fantasy to science. A bulky squarish device with a convex screen — a television set — rests on a stand filled to the brim with video tapes. The wastebin at the foot of the bed is overflowing with paper scraps, most of them featuring doodles of Shadow’s air shoes. The sharp scent of antiseptic and something sweet lingers in the air.
Maria steps around him with a flourish. “Ta-da! What do you think?”
“It’s… nice.” Shadow says.
She beams. “I think so too.”
Maria wastes no time taking off her shoes and flopping facedown on her bed. Shadow discards his own footwear to be polite. Then he lingers by the desk, uncertain of how to proceed. He settles for cataloguing the room’s exits (one plus restroom), dials (two call buttons, one for emergencies) and medical gear (the IV drip needs a replacement), fidgeting all the while.
“Ugh, I'm more tired than I thought.” Maria cracks an eye open. “Don’t tell Grandfather, ‘kay?” She frowns. “...What’re you doing? C’mere!”
She pats the spot next to her on the bed. After some hesitation, Shadow climbs up and settles there in silence, leaning against the headboard with his arms folded. The metallic surface feels cool against his back and the mattress is comfortable. It’s optimal. Shadow could stay like this for hours if need be.
Maria clearly disagrees.
“You’re gonna get a crick in your neck, silly!” She giggles. “That’s no way to sleep.”
Shadow’s face grows hot. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t… slept before.” His stasis, long as it was, hardly counts. “Nor do I need to, as I’m sure you’re aware.”
“Everyone needs sleep, Shadow. Yes, even the Ultimate Lifeform.” Maria punctuates her words with a terrible impression of the Professor that pulls at the corners of Shadow’s mouth. “Here, follow my lead.”
Maria rolls onto her back and instructs Shadow to do the same. It takes a little trial and error — quills and pillows don’t mix well, as it turns out — but Shadow eventually manages to keep his spines flat and his body horizontal.
Next, she asks him to close his eyes and relax, whatever that means.
“It means slow down your breathing, for starters.” Maria chides.
Easy enough. Shadow has unparalleled control over his bodily functions. He wills his lungs to draw air at the minimum frequency required to ensure proper oxygenation. One breath per minute should more than suffice to meet Maria’s requirements and achieve this oh-so-crucial sleep of hers.
A few moments pass. It’s… peaceful, actually. Shadow thinks he’s beginning to understand relaxation when Maria squeaks and shakes him violently, rattling him back to full alertness.
Shadow can’t help it: he glares. “What?”
Maria looks pale as a sheet. “I thought you were dead! You weren’t breathing at all, Shadow!”
Shadow cocks his head, confused. “I did what you told me to.”
“Not like that!” Maria pouts. “More like… deep breaths, you know?” She demonstrates, breathing in and out at regular intervals, far more frequently than Shadow would deem slow. “Calm, normal breathing.”
“Normal.” Shadow says dryly. Again with the vague concepts...
“Yes! So you should just do what I’m do—” Maria freezes. “...Oh.” Her mouth goes slack. “Oh no…”
Shadow jolts upright, scanning Maria’s body for signs of a flare-up. “What’s wrong?”
“I…” Maria gapes at him in horror. Shadow’s eyes dart to the emergency dial. “I’ve… become too aware of my own breathing, and now I can’t undo it. Ugh!” She flops back down, glaring at the ceiling. “Autonomic functions are so weird.”
A beat of stunned silence later, Shadow groans and falls back against his pillow. He feels exhausted all of a sudden. "Is it like this every time you attempt to sleep?"
Maria snorts. “Not usually, no.” She considers him for a moment. “Hmm, maybe pyjamas would help? I’m too tired to change, but you can borrow some if you’d like.”
“...Pass.” Shadow grunts. His gloves and socks are enough of an adjustment as is.
“Right… you’d poke holes right through them. Oh! How about a bedtime story? Or maybe we could count sheep!”
Shadow frowns. “Count… sheep?”
“The tried and true method! Wait… do you even know what sheep are?”
“In theory, yes.” Ovis aries, a ruminant mammal species. “The Professor—”
Maria’s face lights up. “I. Love. Sheep! They’re so cute and fluffy and there are so many breeds with all sorts of fascinating features!” Energized anew, she fishes a book out from under her bed. Shadow doesn’t get to see the cover before Maria is furiously flipping through it. “Let’s see… aha!”
Shadow takes a look. It’s an encyclopedic section on sheep, complete with illustrations and data tables that Maria seems to know by heart. She points at different breeds and tells him all about their differences, their most distinctive traits, what Maria loves the most about each. Shadow listens intently despite himself, swept up in Maria’s excitement, her drive, her bright mind and even brighter smile…
“And that’s just for sheep! There are so many interesting facts about all types of animals!” Maria blazes through the pages again. “Sadly there isn’t much about Mobian counterparts, but I asked Grandfather for a book on tha— Here!”
Next up is the hedgehog section. Shadow finds himself huddling closer, just short of climbing into Maria’s lap to get a better view. The creatures depicted in the book have much in common with his physiology, though they’re much smaller and astronomically weaker (no surprises there: Shadow is the strongest creature alive).
What is surprising is that these pages are heavily highlighted and annotated on the margins. There are notes on quills and how to care for them, hedgehog vocalizations and their meanings, speculations on Mobian traits and the effects of Chaos energy… all of them crammed into what little room Maria could find in between paragraphs. Shadow traces her handwriting with his fingers, feeling dazed.
“It helped, you know? Researching what I could, theorizing what you would be like.” Maria says quietly. “I waited so long to meet you, I… I nearly drove Grandfather mad with my impatience.”
There is something lodged in Shadow’s throat. He swallows around it. “Why?”
A gentle hand comes to rest on his cheek. Shadow yields to it. Maria’s smile is blinding, all-encompassing. “Because I wanted to be your friend.”
A star. Shadow’s breath catches. The thought is unbidden, absurd, so genuine it scares him. She’s like a star.
And though he’s only known Maria for mere hours, Shadow knows with abrupt and absolute certainty he would follow her light to the ends of the universe.
“I…” Shadow rasps. “...I would like that. I think.”
“That settles it, then.” Maria sits up straight and shakes Shadow's hand, nodding solemnly. “We’re friends, Shadow the Hedgehog.”
Shadow’s lips twitch. He nods back. “Friends.”
Maria's grin grows even wider. Then her face falls.
“We’re supposed to be sleeping!” Maria yelps. She slams her book shut and shoves it aside. “I got completely carried away! Though… I suppose that could count as both bedtime story and counting sheep, don’t you think? Or is that a stretch?” Her brow furrows. “Well… either way, it clearly didn’t work.”
“I see.” Shadow says. “So combining two sleep-aiding methods doesn’t increase their effectiveness, but rather leads to a mutual subtraction.” Maybe he’s beginning to understand this “sleeping” after all.
…Or maybe not, because Maria bursts out laughing.
“That,” she wheezes, “is the most Grandfather thing you could’ve said!”
Shadow’s ears pin back. “You mock me.”
“No, no, he’d be so pleased!” Maria flops backward, trying to catch her breath. “Oh, I can’t wait to tell him tomorrow—”
“Don’t!”
“I’m kidding! Your secret is safe with me,” Maria says, laying a placating hand on Shadow’s arm. “We really should sleep, though. It’s getting late.”
Shadow begrudgingly lies down with her. “And how do you suppose we do that?”
“Hmm… I think,” Maria’s face scrunches up in thought, “we should find your favorite sleeping position.”
“...Does that matter?”
“Of course! Everyone has one, we just have to find yours!”
Shadow sighs in resignation. No harm in trying, he supposes.
And try they do. Shadow would’ve never guessed there were so many ways for humans to sleep, though he doubts hedgehogs are the same way. The positions Maria has him try are either thoroughly impractical for someone with quills or they trigger Shadow’s fight-or-flight instincts. It seems no matter what he does he’s either too dangerous or too vulnerable, making it impossible for him to unwind in earnest.
Maria is looking crestfallen by the time an idea occurs to Shadow, brought about by something he saw in her book. He lies on his side facing Maria, gives her what he hopes is a reassuring look, then he curls up into a ball. He has no intention to sleep through an entire season like a non-Mobian hedgehog, but perhaps there is merit to the way they hibernate. Even if attempting it makes Shadow feel rather silly.
Eventually, Shadow’s efforts are rewarded: his quills begin to ease, his breathing and heart rate slowing in tandem as an odd sense of contentment overtakes him. He can still sense Maria next to him, but that awareness is no longer laced with fear of pricking her. If Shadow were to guess, he’d say he is quite ‘relaxed’.
Shadow is so relaxed in fact that he doesn’t immediately snap to attention when a light weight falls on him. Instead he uncurls just enough to see Maria hovering close, an arm draped over him as she wraps them both in a blanket. She looks uncertain. Nervous.
“Is this okay?” Maria whispers, lightly petting his shoulder.
Shadow tries to say yes, but what comes out is a strange clicking sound. Maria gasps in… recognition? Delight?
“I think we found it.” She giggles, huddling closer until they’re face to face. Shadow’s chirps get louder. “And, starting tomorrow, we’ll find all your favorite things, Shadow. Just you wait.”
Why does that matter? Shadow wonders yet again as Maria’s eyes slip shut, as his contentment reaches new heights, as that peculiar clicking persists even through the gradual dulling of his senses. He doesn’t understand what’s so exciting about it, so pivotal. Shadow wasn’t made for such inane pursuits.
Despite it all, for the first time in his short life, Shadow finds himself smiling. No implanted recollections are necessary: this emotion, this warmth nestled in his heart, Shadow knows intrinsically to be hope.
I look forward to it.
Beneath the dimming glow of paper stars and rainbow lights, Shadow falls asleep safe and sound in Maria’s arms.
Among the many things Gerald Robotnik takes pride in (and second only to his undisputable genius), poise is what he values most in himself. After all, the ability to remain calm and collected no matter the circumstance has served him well over the years.
That said, poise is utterly failing him right now.
I shouldn’t have left them unsupervised, Gerald berates himself repeatedly on his way to the dormitory wing. How long ago did Maria and Shadow leave? An hour? Two? He should’ve checked on them sooner. There is too much at stake; Shadow is too new to the world, Maria’s health is too fragile… What was he thinking?!
Gerald sprints the final steps leading to Maria’s room. He forces himself to knock gently on the door. Ten seconds pass. Twenty. Thirty-five. No response. His hands tremble something terrible as he inputs his granddaughter’s code. The display flashes: access granted. Gerald rushes in.
He stops.
It is as if Gerald had stepped into a scene out of a fairytale. Maria’s room has always been a cheery sight, but the two sleeping figures in her bed look downright cherubic, like a pair of Chao dreaming away in their garden. Maria is drooling on her pillow, fast asleep with her arms around Shadow, and Shadow…
The weapon of Gerald’s creation, all-powerful and deadly beyond his wildest imaginations, is curled up like an ordinary hedgehog, chirping faintly in between breaths.
Slowly, scarcely daring to breathe, Gerald draws closer. He checks Maria’s vitals and adjusts her pillow, keeping an eye on Shadow all the while. The hedgehog does not stir. What little of his face is visible looks peaceful, without a trace of his ever-present frown. It’s… quite adorable.
He really is just a child…
As he beholds Shadow at his most vulnerable, something warm and protective swells in Gerald’s chest. Being a father and grandfather both, he knows the feeling all too well. It is frightening, exhilarating. It cannot be fought.
Despite all of Gerald’s past failures, it fills him with hope.
Perhaps I needn’t have worried, Gerald muses, tucking Maria and Shadow in with great care. Perhaps Maria was right.
Perhaps Shadow will indeed show them which way to go to find the light.