I found an old bird's nest today in one of the labs. It's a room we haven't spent much time in, mostly because a lot of the equipment is still there, and it makes me nervous to be around. Who knows what experiments they left partway completed, or what chemicals are in the flasks and beakers?
But with sheer boredom apparently comes courage. I spent a few hours in there this afternoon, looking for clues to the passwords on this computer. I found a sticky note stuck to a desk where there clearly used to be another computer. It had "AJ6X473B17" written on it. Just in case, I tried it. No dice.
Anyway, while I was poking around in there, I discovered a tiny nest, up in one of the light fixtures. The plastic covering had broken, and some enterprising bird decided to build what looked like a half-hearted nest on the ledge it created. It was barely more than a pile of twigs, and no larger than the palm of my hand, but inside was an empty eggshell, broken in half.
It's so fragile, and small. The egg is the size of a marble. I thought for sure the nest would fall apart when I shifted it to look inside, but it held, even when I picked it up and brought it down. It's sitting next to my hand as I type this. I can't help but stare at it. These birds, they found their way into this lab, and managed to get in and out enough times to gather the twigs they needed to build a nest. Then they raised a chick here, and sent it off into the dangerous world, and left the safety of the indoors.
I can't explain why this means so much to me. Maybe it's just because it's been so long since I've seen evidence of anything beautiful. Or maybe it's simpler than that; maybe it's a glimmer of hope. If two tiny birds can survive and have a family in this harsh, horrible world, maybe we can. Maybe survival isn't about learning to accept the way the world is. Maybe it's about learning to live again.
