Page 25 of Enslaved by Anubis

I don’t know what this weird connection with Neb is, but I find it easy to start talking to him, although I can’t make eye contact as I do. I rest my head on his chest, and his breathing soothes me as I tell him about the family farm, my early childhood. He seems profoundly interested in everything I have to say. I guess this is a completely foreign culture to him, and he told me that he had always been interested in ‘human studies,’ as he called it.

I move on to tell him about the worst day of my life. When my father sold me and my brother into slavery. I find it difficult not to cry as I share this for the first time in my life. Neb says nothing, just holds me and wipes the tears from my cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my nose now a little runny too. I feel so embarrassed at my outburst.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. Emotions need to be expressed to be overcome. It sounds like your father did a horrible thing to you. Condemning you to a life of slavery with no escape. There is no honor in that.”

The words he speaks are obvious, but I feel overcome with joy that he sees the story the same way I do. I wrap my arms around his neck and weep. He comforts me the best he can until I calm down. I don’t know how long I cry for, but he never stirs.

I finally pull away from him and wipe the tears from my cheeks, laughing a little in the process.

“What’s so funny?” he asks with a confused smile.

“I just haven’t cried for a very long time. It took me by surprise.”

He brushes my cheek with his thumb and says, “Do you want to tell me more, or are you done sharing for the day?”

“I can go on, if you want to hear more.”

“Please do.”

I continue to tell him about the mind-numbing years I spent as a slave on the communal farm. I tell him about the few friendships I made and my brother leaving me, after which I went into my shell and didn’t really have any friends for the rest of my time there. Then, I was sold to Ansapata when he spotted me in the field on a tour of the farm. I tell him what a horrible man Ansapata was and how I had, misguidedly, begged to join the cult of Anubis to escape him.

“They marched me here through the desert, and, well, the rest you know.”

Neb ponders for a moment and then says, “It sounds like you have never really had a chance to live your life the way you would have wanted. Is this a common story for humans?” Neb’s analytical and scientific mind never ceases to amaze me. He always yearns to know more and more.

“I would say that most people are forced to do labor to survive. It is only a very small portion of the population that is able to pursue things that make them happy. You’re right—until now, I have never had any freedom. And I guess I have you to thank for that.”

“I wouldn’t agree that you owe me any thanks. If anything, you should abhor me. We are the ones who set your culture in motion. We guided your society in this dreadful direction. I have to tell you, Zanika, that when I came down to Yoria for the first time, I thought that humans were nothing but animals, nothing but beings without consciousness driven by their base needs.”

“And what about now?”

“I can’t speak for all humans, but I am beginning to understand the error of our ways. You have shown me that I was wrong. It is this society that forces humans into violence and depravity, not the humans themselves. If I had to work, steal, or kill in order to survive, there is no way I would be the same person I am today.”

I lean up and kiss Neb on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re learning more about us.”

“More than you know,” he says kissing me lightly on the lips. “Thank you for sharing your story. You have really got me thinking.”

I decide not to follow up and nestle myself back onto his chest. Crying really takes the life out of you. With the sad memories of my past fluttering in my mind, I imagine them as ravens, flying out of my head, one by one. Once the last one leaves, I fall asleep.

---