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Shadow is aware that it is rude to eavesdrop. This does not stop him from doing it.
There’s much to learn from observing others, especially those who don’t know that they’re being observed. Sometimes he discovers secret information or interesting statistics, and sometimes he hears gossip to share with Maria.
Maria loves gossip but she isn’t as good at sneaking around as he is. Her cover always gets blown, either by her heavy breaths of physical exertion or the fits of giggles that she’s prone to succumbing to.
Shadow can be very, very quiet. He can stop breathing altogether for a few minutes if he needs to and, without the shoes, his footsteps are completely silent. The scientists reprimand him if they find him barefoot because they want him to get used to controlling the shoes, but he can’t get in trouble if he doesn’t get caught—and if he’s silent, he won't.
Two members of janitorial staff are slacking off in the west wing library, completely unaware that he is mere feet away from them. His hands are over his ears, flattening them enough to prevent them from poking out over the top of the desk he is crouching behind, but not so much that he can’t hear their conversation.
“Don’t you think it’s really weird,” one of them says, “that we aren’t allowed to read most of these? Not that I’d want to, because they look boring, but it’s stupid that we live and work here and we can’t even read the books.”
The other janitor hums in agreement. “Makes me wonder what they’re hiding.”
“Literally. Like, what can’t we know? It’s not like we’re going to tell anyone. We can’t leave the colony.”
Shadow isn’t allowed to read most of the books in here, either. He has contemplated the idea of reading one in an act of defiance, but they are all very thick and would be time-consuming to read. He’d rather spend that time with Maria.
Perhaps one day, if she decides that she’s had enough of him, he’ll take on the library.
The janitors go back and forth about the books for a while, mostly repeating the sentiment that they have no desire to read them but think that they have the right to. Shadow agrees, and he’d tell them so if there were a way to make himself known without revealing that he has been hiding for the past ten minutes.
(Also, they may not wish to talk to him. Opinions vary amongst ARK staff on whether he should be allowed to walk around and talk to people of his own accord. Some want nothing to do with him unless a scientist or two are there to chaperone, and some want nothing to do with him regardless. And then there is Abe, who is afraid of him and thinks he shouldn’t exist, but Abe is a stupid child and his opinions are irrelevant.)
“We’d better get finished in here before we get yelled at.”
“Oh, yeah. Wait-“ A long, irritated sigh. “Where the fuck is that vacuum cleaner? I swear it was here five seconds ago.”
‘The fuck’ is a phrase Shadow has never heard before. From the tone of voice and the context in which it was used, he can deduce that it must be used to provide emphasis. The janitor is frustrated that he has misplaced the vacuum cleaner and the phrase is added to the question to convey this.
He’d like to try this new phrase out for himself. To prevent grammar mistakes, he’ll keep the sentence mostly the same as what he heard—he’ll ask where (the fuck) something is. All he needs to change is the noun.
Easy. He hasn’t seen Maria for a few hours, and he’s quite displeased about that. He’ll ask where she is.
Slowly, he uncurls from his crouched position and, while the janitors are looking the other way, makes his escape.
He calls his creator by a few names.
It’s ‘Gerald’, usually, as that is his given name. On serious occasions, it’s ‘Professor Gerald’, to convey respect. On very serious occasions, the kind where the scientists call him ‘Project Shadow’ instead of just ‘Shadow’, it’s ‘Professor’, or even ‘Professor Robotnik’. Using his first name on those occasions feels too personal, too amicable to come from a test subject.
When he’s with Maria, though, it’s ‘Grandfather’, because that’s what she calls him and he likes to copy what she does. He gets away with calling Gerald such a thing because he dotes on Maria too much to be rude to her favourite science experiment right in front of her.
(It’s an inaccurate term; if he were to refer to Gerald with a familial term then it would make most sense to call him ‘Father’. He doesn’t dare, though. He called him that once, and he’ll never forget the way the man winced, face shrivelling up with what seemed very much like disgust. It hurt Shadow’s feelings, but it’s entirely understandable why Gerald wouldn’t want to claim something so unnatural as his child.)
The environment that he finds Gerald in seems like a ‘Professor’ situation. He is in a lab alongside a handful of scientists, as he often is, scrawling notes onto a printed diagram with so many existing handwritten notes that it must surely be illegible. He’s relaxed, though—he lacks the sharp focus in his eyes that conveys that he should not be disturbed. He will not be angry with Shadow for disrupting his work.
Shadow knocks gently on the door, even though it is open. He has been told that it is polite to let people know of his presence before he speaks to them, in order to prevent startling them.
The lab’s occupants turn to look at the source of the noise, and all but Gerald put their heads back down when they see who has entered, though a few sneak glances at him when they think that he won’t notice. The scientists like to observe him in casual environments, but they do not like him to know that they are doing so.
“Good evening,” Gerald says in greeting, scooting back slightly in his chair so that he can turn to give Shadow his full attention. This, too, is part of being polite.
Shadow takes a second to recall the phrase that he heard.
“Professor, where the fuck is Maria?” He asks earnestly.
Gerald opens his mouth to respond but the words die in his throat before he can form them. His bushy brows lower, completely obscuring what can usually be seen of his eyes over his glasses, and his mouth flattens into a thin line.
From a few feet away, someone makes a strange, choked noise. She slaps her hand over her mouth, though it fails to hide the way her cheeks are raised with mirth. It’s the same expression that Maria makes when Shadow sticks his tongue out at her behind Gerald’s back and she tries not to laugh.
Is the scientist laughing? A quick scan of the others seems to confirm this suspicion; they each have varying expressions of amusement.
Did he structure the sentence incorrectly? He’s sure he used it in the same way that he heard it. Maybe there’s a hidden grammar rule that he didn’t consider.
His ears flatten with embarrassment, tail flicking from side to side.
“Dr. Weber,” Gerald says sternly.
“Sorry,” the laughing scientists says, though it comes out more like a wheeze. She takes a calming breath. When she speaks again, her voice is level, though her mouth curls up at the sides. “My sincerest apologies, Professor Robotnik.”
Seemingly satisfied with his subordinate’s apology, Gerald refocuses his attention onto Shadow. “Where did you learn that word?” He asks, voice serious and frightening.
Shadow is fairly certain that ‘the fuck’ is a phrase, not a word, so Gerald must be referring to the word ‘fuck’. He would ask for clarification but now doesn’t seem to be the time.
Many eyes are on him, watching expectantly in a manner reminiscent of how they monitor his responses to stimuli in controlled assessments. He feels, suddenly, like he is undertaking a test once more.
He wishes that he had tested out his new vocabulary without an audience. Gerald is usually kinder, less authoritarian, when he isn’t being observed by his team.
“I heard it,” he mumbles, averting his gaze. He looks at the diagram that Gerald was writing on, then worries that it will make him look nosy, so he stares down at the ugly tile floor instead.
“Where?”
Being honest would incriminate himself, as he knows that he is not supposed to eavesdrop on ARK staff. Lying would also incriminate himself, as he is bad at lying.
He opts to tell the truth but be vague about it. “The library. Somebody wanted to know where something was and that was the phrase that he used.”
“I see,” Gerald says, rubbing his chin. His moustache quivers. “You should know better than to repeat words that you don’t know.”
Shadow tries to distract himself from the prickling at his eyes- he does not cry in front of the scientists if he can help it- by rubbing the latch on one of the heavy rings on his wrists. Like the shoes, he isn’t allowed to take them off. Unlike the shoes, he does not disobey this order because removing the rings makes everything very loud and scary.
“I am sorry, Professor,” he says quietly.
Gerald’s eyes flick quickly to the other scientists, most of whom have by now schooled the amusement out of their expressions. When he speaks, there’s an domineering tone that he only uses when he’s trying to set an example for his subordinates. “This behaviour is unacceptable. Perhaps you should pay a visit to the Biolizard to remind yourself to be disciplined in the future.”
It is phrased like a suggestion, but it is an instruction. Shadow does not know why people do this, but after many mishaps he has gathered that it is rude to ignore these hidden orders.
He is deeply afraid of the Biolizard and Gerald knows this. Its screams of agony are otherworldly and frightening, and yet unsettlingly similar to his own. He does not want to visit the Biolizard.
Nevertheless, an order is an order. He lowers his head. “Yes, Professor.”
Later, Gerald will speak to him alone and apologise for being so strict. He will explain that if Shadow embarrasses him in front of the other scientists, they will lose respect for him and he will not be able to do the vital work that he needs to do. Shadow will keep this in mind and refrain from making such a mistake again.
Maria will find it hilarious that he shamelessly swore at her grandfather in the middle of a lab. She'll laugh so hard that he'll retell the story over and over again, and her joy will sap the shame out of him until all that is left is a funny anecdote.