Can't You Hear Them?
"Mr. Octavius, are you listening to me?"
The scar still burns.
"Otto?"
One long scar down his back, separated them from him. One little scar is the only thing he has left to show that they were ever a part of him. One scar to regard the time they spent together.
"Mr. Octavius, please."
Then he looks over at his therapist.
People like her, people too blind to understand, they took them away from him. People unwilling to understand, unwilling to forgive. All they want is to live their lives. Live them together. But they took them away...
"Yes, I'm listening." Otto lies.
"I know it must be...difficult for you to adapt without your...arms."
Her name is Dr. Patricia Robertson, she is his therapist, and she doesn't understand. She stutters, trying not to offend him, trying to seem kind. But she is part of many that took them away.
He sits across the table from her, handcuffs binding him. This is prison, and this is a prison therapist. And somewhere in this prison are his beautiful arms. Somewhere beyond the confinement of his cell, the bars he could easily bend with his arms. Somewhere people are touching them, and examining them, even taking them apart to learn about them. It is horrible to know they're so close.
Yet he can still hear them.
"I've heard of your difficult life. Your father was an abusive man, and your mother," She begins.
"Please. I would appreciate it if you didn't mention such things." Otto looks away.
He doesn't need to be reminded of the other pain in his life.
"Oh, of course, I realize it is a delicate subject." She writes something down on her notepad.
He looks away to the glass that looks like a mirror, he knows they're watching him. Gawking at the monster that is Doctor Octopus. As if Dr. Octavius means nothing. They're out there, wondering about his arms. How he could change like he did. How he could become a murderer without any regret. How he could form a relationship with machines.
Well, it comes easier when you loose everything. Your wife, your work, your dream...Everything you had gone, only left with the things that promise it will get better.
But those people, looking at him, and this therapist would never understand. These people took them away from him.
They took them away.
These people who don't see what his arms did for him. They don't see how they cared for him when he mourned for his loss of his Rosie. They don't see the arms that cared for his bruises. The arms that love him. That take care of him.
No, they see cold metal, that's all.
And when they look at him, what do they see? A mad man. Not a man who only wanted to fulfill his dreams. Their dreams. They don't see Otto Octavius, who gave up so much, only to loose everything else.
They don't care. They see Doctor Octopus.
"Listen Mr. Octavius, I'm here to help you. If there is anything you want to tell me... If you're feeling guilt or anything after this recent trauma," She tries to help.
"You are wasting your time, Ms. Robertson." Otto interrupts her.
She can't help him. How can she when she can't even understand? When she refuses too.
He doesn't need her, or anyone else. She's one of them, one of them who took them away. She doesn't understand. He doesn't need her help. He only needs them.
That's all.
That's all they need too. They need him. He can hear them, calling for him, asking him to make it better. They're close, he can feel it. Their voices echoing in his head, they're scared. They want him to make it better.
"All I need are my arms back." Otto says.
"You're feeling separation anxiety?" Dr. Robertson asks.
Otto is surprised by the comment.
"Well, they are taking worse than me." Otto smiles, because he knows she won't understand.
"Ah, yes, they talk to you don't they?" She asks.
"Yes." He says simply, not seeing where she is going.
"These voices, what do they tell you?"
Otto tilts his head.
"You don't believe me." Otto says.
The Otto turns his head because he realizes how close his arms are, as they begin to scream, and scratch the walls to get out.
They want out, they don't like the dark. They want him, they want to be one again. They scream for him, call for him.
And he promises them he will come for them, and make it better. They will leave this prison, this dark place. They will not fail next time. Next time will be different. Peter will be punished for this. This pain he causes them.
All these people, will be punished.
The people that don't understand, that refuse to understand. The people that only see a monster, Doctor Octopus, not the man that lost everything, and the four arms that were the only things left to love him.
The people that took him, and cut him, that separated him from his arms. The people that left him with the scar on his back, without any regard.
"You don't believe that they speak to me." Otto says angrily.
Dr. Robertson is surprised, and tries to hide it.
"You don't do you!?" Otto yells.
He wants to know, so he forces it out of her.
"I believe you hear voices." Is all Robertson says.
"But the voices aren't theirs'" Otto lowers his head.
"No."
He closes his eyes, and listens to his arms. Their voices so beautiful, unlike anything human, too soft to be human. That is because they are not, they are machine, they are his arms, and they are more than human.
Such beautiful voices...
Promising such beautiful things...
"You think I'm insane." Otto says.
"Insanity is merely a state of mind, it can always be changed or helped." Robertson says.
"You think their voices, are merely fragments of my mind?" He asks, offended.
"You say these voices appeared after the...incident, after you lost your wife, and your work. Trauma like this results in many ways."
Robertson continues, but he doesn't listen.
"A harsh childhood and a horrible incident such as this, you could have formed another side of yourself." She continues.
And Otto is gone. He lowers his head, and listens to the voices that have been there for him for so long. Through every mistake through every fault they have been there. And they have gotten him up.
Can you believe this? He asks his arms. And they reply through their scratching and clawing that Robertson is a fool. Otto agrees.
"And thus these 'voices' are actually a part of you that wants to do certain things you really want to do." She finishes.
"You're saying I'm a murderer at heart." Otto jokes.
"Well you have killed people." Robertson snaps.
"Sacrifices must be made..." Otto looks away.
She doesn't understand his motivation. She doesn't know what it is like to hold on to a dream that is already gone. Sacrifices must be made in order to achieve his dream, his dream that will bring so much to mankind.
It will clear his name of Doctor Octopus, and redeem himself as Otto Octavius.
He will give the world the sun.
"You don't understand..." Otto looks away.
Robertson looks at him.
"Can't you hear them..." Otto says. "They are alive. They have their own voices...And I can hear them. Even now. They're scared."
Then he smiles.
They're calling him. Telling him they're coming. Telling him they will be one soon. They would never leave him. They love him.
"Can't you hear them?" Otto asks again. "They're yelling now."
"No, I can't, Mr. Octavius." Robertson says.
"Can't you hear it? They say their coming. They're coming for me. They don't like being alone."
He can hear them scratching at the walls. Their strength slowly breaking the walls down. He can hear the guns being fired as they escape from the prison to his. He can hear the screams as people are thrown out of their way.
"Can you hear it now?" He asks.
"Mr. Octavius, these voices are nothing but," Robertson tries.
"What about now?"
He can hear their footsteps crack the weak ground beneath. He can hear the echoes as they go down the hallways.
They're calling to him.
"Can you hear them?" He asks again.
He looks up at her. Just one in many that don't understand. That could never understand. That aren't willing to listen. Not willing to listen to either him or his arms. But they don't deserve to hear his arms.
Then the people outside the glass, outside the room begin to scream. Gunshots can be heard. Then their silence.
Otto smiles.
Dr. Robertson looks at him with fear.
Then the glass shatters, and in steps four mechanical arms, working by themselves, looking for their father, their Otto. Dr. Robertson screams, and runs into the corner, stepping on glass. Otto smiles at them, and hugs them. And gently they leave his grasp and lower to his back.
They are gentle, they are kind. They raise his shirt, and grasp onto him again. He doesn't even feel any pain this time. And he smiles, as they cover his scar, and slowly they become one again.
And they rejoice. His arms scream in joy, they are safe now, they are with him now. He smiles, at one, and they hiss, but laugh to him.
Then Otto looks at Robertson in the corner.
Slowly he rises off the floor, his arms carrying him to her. And then he looks down at her, so many that don't understand.
"Can you hear them now?" He asks.
And two of them open their red eyes to see her, and go to her. They hiss, and open their metal mouths at her. The woman that hates their Otto.
"Can you hear them now!?" Otto yells.
And they all hiss louder at her, and in Otto's head their yelling at her.
Their voices yelling at her, asking her how they could ever doubt him. They scream at her, soft voices turning into screams.
Robertson only puts her hands over her head, as if that would do anything.
But an arm finds its way into her hands, and close to her face. It turns and studies this person, that does not understand. Opens its red eye to her, then goes back to Otto.
"There are many like her." Otto explains. "No, she doesn't. No. I know, but we can't do anything about that." Otto speaks with his arms.
Robertson looks up, and see Otto talking to them.
"They really do talk to you..." She whispers.
Otto looks down at her.
"Of course they do. Maybe if you had listened." Otto says simply.
Then they break down the next wall into freedom. Leaving Robertson to lay in her corner.
People like her don't understand. They don't know how much those arms love Otto, how much he loves them. People like her don't realize how much he's lost, but them. People don't understand that he can hear them. That they have voices.
People can't hear them.
Or maybe people just don't listen.
"Mr. Octavius, are you listening to me?"
The scar still burns.
"Otto?"
One long scar down his back, separated them from him. One little scar is the only thing he has left to show that they were ever a part of him. One scar to regard the time they spent together.
"Mr. Octavius, please."
Then he looks over at his therapist.
People like her, people too blind to understand, they took them away from him. People unwilling to understand, unwilling to forgive. All they want is to live their lives. Live them together. But they took them away...
"Yes, I'm listening." Otto lies.
"I know it must be...difficult for you to adapt without your...arms."
Her name is Dr. Patricia Robertson, she is his therapist, and she doesn't understand. She stutters, trying not to offend him, trying to seem kind. But she is part of many that took them away.
He sits across the table from her, handcuffs binding him. This is prison, and this is a prison therapist. And somewhere in this prison are his beautiful arms. Somewhere beyond the confinement of his cell, the bars he could easily bend with his arms. Somewhere people are touching them, and examining them, even taking them apart to learn about them. It is horrible to know they're so close.
Yet he can still hear them.
"I've heard of your difficult life. Your father was an abusive man, and your mother," She begins.
"Please. I would appreciate it if you didn't mention such things." Otto looks away.
He doesn't need to be reminded of the other pain in his life.
"Oh, of course, I realize it is a delicate subject." She writes something down on her notepad.
He looks away to the glass that looks like a mirror, he knows they're watching him. Gawking at the monster that is Doctor Octopus. As if Dr. Octavius means nothing. They're out there, wondering about his arms. How he could change like he did. How he could become a murderer without any regret. How he could form a relationship with machines.
Well, it comes easier when you loose everything. Your wife, your work, your dream...Everything you had gone, only left with the things that promise it will get better.
But those people, looking at him, and this therapist would never understand. These people took them away from him.
They took them away.
These people who don't see what his arms did for him. They don't see how they cared for him when he mourned for his loss of his Rosie. They don't see the arms that cared for his bruises. The arms that love him. That take care of him.
No, they see cold metal, that's all.
And when they look at him, what do they see? A mad man. Not a man who only wanted to fulfill his dreams. Their dreams. They don't see Otto Octavius, who gave up so much, only to loose everything else.
They don't care. They see Doctor Octopus.
"Listen Mr. Octavius, I'm here to help you. If there is anything you want to tell me... If you're feeling guilt or anything after this recent trauma," She tries to help.
"You are wasting your time, Ms. Robertson." Otto interrupts her.
She can't help him. How can she when she can't even understand? When she refuses too.
He doesn't need her, or anyone else. She's one of them, one of them who took them away. She doesn't understand. He doesn't need her help. He only needs them.
That's all.
That's all they need too. They need him. He can hear them, calling for him, asking him to make it better. They're close, he can feel it. Their voices echoing in his head, they're scared. They want him to make it better.
"All I need are my arms back." Otto says.
"You're feeling separation anxiety?" Dr. Robertson asks.
Otto is surprised by the comment.
"Well, they are taking worse than me." Otto smiles, because he knows she won't understand.
"Ah, yes, they talk to you don't they?" She asks.
"Yes." He says simply, not seeing where she is going.
"These voices, what do they tell you?"
Otto tilts his head.
"You don't believe me." Otto says.
The Otto turns his head because he realizes how close his arms are, as they begin to scream, and scratch the walls to get out.
They want out, they don't like the dark. They want him, they want to be one again. They scream for him, call for him.
And he promises them he will come for them, and make it better. They will leave this prison, this dark place. They will not fail next time. Next time will be different. Peter will be punished for this. This pain he causes them.
All these people, will be punished.
The people that don't understand, that refuse to understand. The people that only see a monster, Doctor Octopus, not the man that lost everything, and the four arms that were the only things left to love him.
The people that took him, and cut him, that separated him from his arms. The people that left him with the scar on his back, without any regard.
"You don't believe that they speak to me." Otto says angrily.
Dr. Robertson is surprised, and tries to hide it.
"You don't do you!?" Otto yells.
He wants to know, so he forces it out of her.
"I believe you hear voices." Is all Robertson says.
"But the voices aren't theirs'" Otto lowers his head.
"No."
He closes his eyes, and listens to his arms. Their voices so beautiful, unlike anything human, too soft to be human. That is because they are not, they are machine, they are his arms, and they are more than human.
Such beautiful voices...
Promising such beautiful things...
"You think I'm insane." Otto says.
"Insanity is merely a state of mind, it can always be changed or helped." Robertson says.
"You think their voices, are merely fragments of my mind?" He asks, offended.
"You say these voices appeared after the...incident, after you lost your wife, and your work. Trauma like this results in many ways."
Robertson continues, but he doesn't listen.
"A harsh childhood and a horrible incident such as this, you could have formed another side of yourself." She continues.
And Otto is gone. He lowers his head, and listens to the voices that have been there for him for so long. Through every mistake through every fault they have been there. And they have gotten him up.
Can you believe this? He asks his arms. And they reply through their scratching and clawing that Robertson is a fool. Otto agrees.
"And thus these 'voices' are actually a part of you that wants to do certain things you really want to do." She finishes.
"You're saying I'm a murderer at heart." Otto jokes.
"Well you have killed people." Robertson snaps.
"Sacrifices must be made..." Otto looks away.
She doesn't understand his motivation. She doesn't know what it is like to hold on to a dream that is already gone. Sacrifices must be made in order to achieve his dream, his dream that will bring so much to mankind.
It will clear his name of Doctor Octopus, and redeem himself as Otto Octavius.
He will give the world the sun.
"You don't understand..." Otto looks away.
Robertson looks at him.
"Can't you hear them..." Otto says. "They are alive. They have their own voices...And I can hear them. Even now. They're scared."
Then he smiles.
They're calling him. Telling him they're coming. Telling him they will be one soon. They would never leave him. They love him.
"Can't you hear them?" Otto asks again. "They're yelling now."
"No, I can't, Mr. Octavius." Robertson says.
"Can't you hear it? They say their coming. They're coming for me. They don't like being alone."
He can hear them scratching at the walls. Their strength slowly breaking the walls down. He can hear the guns being fired as they escape from the prison to his. He can hear the screams as people are thrown out of their way.
"Can you hear it now?" He asks.
"Mr. Octavius, these voices are nothing but," Robertson tries.
"What about now?"
He can hear their footsteps crack the weak ground beneath. He can hear the echoes as they go down the hallways.
They're calling to him.
"Can you hear them?" He asks again.
He looks up at her. Just one in many that don't understand. That could never understand. That aren't willing to listen. Not willing to listen to either him or his arms. But they don't deserve to hear his arms.
Then the people outside the glass, outside the room begin to scream. Gunshots can be heard. Then their silence.
Otto smiles.
Dr. Robertson looks at him with fear.
Then the glass shatters, and in steps four mechanical arms, working by themselves, looking for their father, their Otto. Dr. Robertson screams, and runs into the corner, stepping on glass. Otto smiles at them, and hugs them. And gently they leave his grasp and lower to his back.
They are gentle, they are kind. They raise his shirt, and grasp onto him again. He doesn't even feel any pain this time. And he smiles, as they cover his scar, and slowly they become one again.
And they rejoice. His arms scream in joy, they are safe now, they are with him now. He smiles, at one, and they hiss, but laugh to him.
Then Otto looks at Robertson in the corner.
Slowly he rises off the floor, his arms carrying him to her. And then he looks down at her, so many that don't understand.
"Can you hear them now?" He asks.
And two of them open their red eyes to see her, and go to her. They hiss, and open their metal mouths at her. The woman that hates their Otto.
"Can you hear them now!?" Otto yells.
And they all hiss louder at her, and in Otto's head their yelling at her.
Their voices yelling at her, asking her how they could ever doubt him. They scream at her, soft voices turning into screams.
Robertson only puts her hands over her head, as if that would do anything.
But an arm finds its way into her hands, and close to her face. It turns and studies this person, that does not understand. Opens its red eye to her, then goes back to Otto.
"There are many like her." Otto explains. "No, she doesn't. No. I know, but we can't do anything about that." Otto speaks with his arms.
Robertson looks up, and see Otto talking to them.
"They really do talk to you..." She whispers.
Otto looks down at her.
"Of course they do. Maybe if you had listened." Otto says simply.
Then they break down the next wall into freedom. Leaving Robertson to lay in her corner.
People like her don't understand. They don't know how much those arms love Otto, how much he loves them. People like her don't realize how much he's lost, but them. People don't understand that he can hear them. That they have voices.
People can't hear them.
Or maybe people just don't listen.