He didn’t ask for things.
He was part of a content though ambitious breed. His race was superior, connected on a level unfathomable to the ants he had conducted most of his life among.
They had no need for the messy individual relationships humans spent so many years of their lives cultivating.
The Visitors prized efficiency above all else; every session of Bliss fulfilled their necessary dose of love and acceptance without heartache and struggle.
He was grateful for this, as he witnessed daily how the chaotic need for such things easily turned man against man.
When it first began, he figured if he could pinpoint what it was exactly his heart (no, not heart for they had already fixed the problem of the heart) needed, he could remedy it and move on.
He didn’t know and couldn’t know, but when she smirked at him across the desk, eyebrows arching, eager for him to ask what she had found, he knew they must have missed something.
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