Not feeling like pushing on with the book, I took another shower and drank the water from it rather than the tainted milk. I didn't brush my hair.
I finished the book with a scowl and tossed it down on the table. With nothing else to do, I lay back and slept.
***
I strode across the room and knocked the hairbrush off of the sink. It clattered noisily and a few hairs were knocked loose. They challenged me from the tiled floor. I turned on my heel and returned to the main room to inspect the new deliveries, ignoring the damn brush and it’s accusatory tone.
This time there was a new book on the table with the sandwiches and a small chocolate muffin. I devoured the sandwiches but kept the muffin for later, repeated my shower-drink to avoid the milk and had a look at the book. It was the follow-up to the book I'd read yesterday. Awful, awful, awful.
“Karen was miserable," I read aloud. "She had given up all of her friends, fallen out with her family and changed her job just to keep Eunice happy, but he still hadn't stayed with her. She reached for the phone. Begging hadn't worked yet but she had only tried a few times-" The suction noise from the door seal being released made me stop mid terrible sentence.
A woman walked in, she had long yellow-blonde hair pulled back tightly behind her head in a harsh ponytail and wore a figure-hugging, powder blue power suit. She was followed by a young man with round glasses who was carrying two chairs. I didn't recognise him but she was familiar somehow.
“Hello, Maya. Please make yourself comfortable at the table, we just have a few questions for you." Her voice was clipped and business-like.
I moved to my seat and waited while they arranged themselves opposite me. I couldn't decide how old the woman was. She looked as though she wasn't adverse to a few youth prolonging injections which was confusing my read on her.
The man looked like he was just trying to blend into the background. He kept his head down, not looking at me while arranging papers and a tablet on the table in front of him.
"My name is Lucretia Scorin. We are sorry to have kept you waiting, Miss Summers, we had to be careful about possible contaminants. Fortunately, all of our tests have come back negative, both from the testing zone and from yourself," the woman began.
“So, can I go home now?" I asked hopefully.
“I'm afraid that that's not currently an option we can offer you," she said, smiling tightly and I was fairly sure her facial muscles were having trouble remembering what shape a smile should be.
"Why?"
“You broke the law, Miss Summers, that can't simply go unaddressed." She fixed me with a hard stare. "You put the needs of yourself above the needs of the population, and we have to account for that somehow."
The silence stretched on for long enough that I was sure they could hear the pounding of my heart. I slowly caught onto the fact that it was my turn to talk again.
“I didn't even know what was happening. My helmet malfunctioned. I couldn't breathe."
"We have been given a full account of the event by Mr Jackson. He told us it seemed likely you would die and he was acting in the interest of preserving your life. He also mentioned that your helmet did not simply malfunction, but was damaged when you engaged in dangerous activities which were not necessary for the work you were sent to do." She rapped her nails, which were painted powder blue to match her suit, against the table.
I silently cursed Taylor's trusting nature. He should have held his tongue on the details but now I didn’t have much choice aside from admitting to everything so say
"It didn't specify that we weren't allowed to sit in hanging seats either," I said finally, not that I expected to get away without punishment based on a technicality.
"A smart mouth won't help your case here, Miss Summers." Lucretia gave me a thin smile, or maybe it was a grimace. "The directions did specify that you should do your utmost to take care of yourselves and your equipment at all times. And, in the case of an emergency or injury the first response should always be to radio back for direction on how to proceed." She rapped her nails on the table again. I wasn't sure if it was meant to be irritating or intimidating. It was a bit of both.
"I wasn't really in any state to be radioing people. I was blacking out from lack of oxygen at the time." I scowled at the wooden table top.
"Mr Jackson mentioned that the damage to your helmet was noticed long before you began to have trouble breathing. At which point, if you had followed protocol, a unit could have been dispatched to aid you and none of this would be happening." Again with the nails. Maybe she was using the noise in place of fullstops.
"But it wasn't causing any trouble at that point," I protested weakly.
"It says clearly here-" she held out a copy of the directions we had received before setting out into the inspection zone, "-if the integrity of your biohazard suit is compromised you must radio it in without delay." She looked at me expectantly, her nails poised above the table ready to strike.
"I just didn't think."
"And that is obviously the problem. Neither of you stopped to think. And like I have said, if that were the extent of it, maybe this wouldn't be a problem but we have to consider the possible implications for the population." And the fingernails made it to the table once again.
“But you said I was clear of contamination."
"Irrelevant I'm afraid. The lack of an actual risk after the fact does not negate the risk you posed when we couldn't have known that contamination wasn't a threat." And again with the nails. I found myself wishing her polish would chip.
“So what now then?"