A breath of life

Mary came to with a sharp inhale, waking from a strange dream. She was on the floor outside her bedroom, resting with her head on the ground, supporting the rest of her kneeling body; she realized she must have slept walked for only the second time in her adult life. How strange! Equally so was the puddle of drool where she had been laying. "Did that all come from me," she thought? "I must have been so exhausted to pass out like that." She shifted her weight and started standing up. She rubbed at her jaw. It was so sore! Groggily, she stumbled toward her bed.

George was watching his new housemate from the living room recliner. After inspecting his mother's bedroom, he began cataloguing possible infractions and creating curious and devious ways to change her existence right under her nose. He momentarily grappled with the morality and consequences of his actions and calmly settled on the idea that this was some form of retribution. He remembered the way his mother berated him on the way home from church and laughed. Now why had her god made her like this? It was obvious to him; her obedience was being called into question, and this was her penance. This was her chance at redemption, but George was not going to make it easy in any capacity. Mary had no recourse to protect, no chance at peace and safety except if anyone else got their words in her brain. "Excuse me, Mary." He raised his voice and called across the room. "It's time for your daily inspection."

Mary jerked suddenly, as if being pulled by a leash. She felt an undeniable need to obey that voice. "It seems you've forgotten again how to behave in my presence. We both know, of course, that you need daily inspections and behavior modification to become your best version. Isn't that correct? You are apologetic and yearn to acquire my approval. Come, stand before your master and tell me what you know to be true. You know to speak when I command it." He motioned to the rug.

Her groggy state vanished and she nearly pranced into position. She knew she hadn't been behaving like she was supposed to, and for failing again, put on a sheepish face. She could do better, but needed more direction, it seemed.

"You may speak, Mary. Speak the part of your truth you remember. When you cannot remember any more, you will enjoy learning the rest of your truth from me." There she stood, arms by her sides and feet shoulder width apart. George realized that the way he phrased comments, commands and questions would both calm this new being and help her realize that this was the way things were. The way things are and would be.

It was valid that she didn't remember everything. She knew she had forgotten some things, and that she desperately needed inspections and modification to be the best version of herself. She felt sorry but wanted nothing more than to serve and be validated by her master.