Twelve
Margaret
“Hello, Margaret, how are you feeling today?”
I feel like my life is over in some way I cannot quite put words to. I feel as though the illusions that have been keeping me sane for so long are about to be ripped away. I'm going to find out the truth about myself.
That’s not what the doctor means, though. He means physically, and physically I feel fine.
"I am okay, thank you.” I smooth my hands over my skirt. I wish I could feel comfortable around all these korabi, but the doctor is a very imposing bright red beast trammeled with circuitry beneath his skin. His eyes are dark and penetrating and focused entirely on me.
He approaches me with a friendly smile, or at least, as friendly a smile as it is possible to have while korabi. The doctor is an attractive specimen, and very striking. He is absolutely beautiful, actually. I find myself staring at him in confusion. I do not want to be medically meddled with, but this creature has the demeanor of someone who will keep me completely safe.
“Actually, I’m terrified,” I tell him honestly.
"There's nothing to be afraid of. Just lie back and try to relax,” Doctor Haut tells me.
Doing that is a far more difficult task than I imagined. These korabi are telling me that I am secretly a terrible person who does unspeakable things. I thought I was a weak woman easily dominated by a bullying husband. Now it seems that I am a vicious assassin doing the bidding of unseen influences. Can that be true? It speaks to the strangeness of the world at large that I am considering it as a possibility.
I sit down on the human-sized medical chair bed and try to submit to this insanity with some grace.
“What are you doing to me exactly?”
“I’m going to administer a chemical cocktail designed to reduce human inhibitions. If you are holding back a memory, it should help to bring it out. All you need to do is sit back, relax, and tell me what comes to mind.”
"I don't like chemical cocktails being administered.”
“I can give you a sedative, but it may interfere with memory, so I'd rather not. Fortunately for you, the technology we use to transform common humans into elites involves memory work, so we're quite adept at working with human recollection. You’re in safe hands.”
He approaches me. I panic.
“No! Get out of my brain!” I kick the hand holding the syringe. It arcs across the room and shatters on the floor.
“Little handful, aren’t you,” Haut comments calmly, not at all offended by my behavior. “Don’t worry. Nothing here is going to hurt you.”
“I don't believe you. Everything here hurts. I’m not an assassin. I’m not!”
Tusk
I did not expect to see the doctor so soon. It has only been a matter of minutes since I delivered Margaret to his care. Haut is not usually incompetent. Nor is he usually unsuccessful.
“I thought she would have an easier experience if it was a more private setting, just the two of us, but she is having trouble submitting to the needle. And by trouble, I mean she can't stop screaming and breaking things.”
“That does not sound like my Margaret. She usually submits nicely and sweetly. Let me see what I can do."
“It will be easier to do the procedure if she’s not stressed. Or in pain. Just so you're aware.”
“You’re telling me not to beat her, is that it?"
"I know your methods and means for handling a woman. I don't deny their efficacy in general, but for a frightened female…"
“I'm well aware, thank you, Doctor. I am capable of handling a human without brutality."
“I shall take your word for it, sir,” Haut says. He would say that whether he believed it or not.
I find Margaret cowering behind the bed on which she should be lying. She peers out with a hunted gaze which relaxes ever so slightly when she sees me.
“Tusk…”
“Come out from there this instant."
Her face falls and her body tightens with fearful tension.
“He wants to shoot me up with…"
“Quiet,” I order. "Come out. Now.”
She falls silent immediately, and does as she is told, emerging on hands and knees to stand before me with a tremor in her hands. I feel my cock twitch. I love it when she behaves herself for me, my little human good girl. I can see the mistrust and the fear in her pretty eyes, but she does not let it overcome her. She knows better while in my presence.
“Give me the syringe, doctor.”
“I think it is better if I administer the drugs. Humans are quite sensitive, and the amount and location are actually quite important.”
"Give me the syringe.”
He hands it to me. It is not large, but I have learned in my long life that size is rarely the measure of potential chaos.