“I can keep this up all day,” I said pleasantly, even though the fact that I was the first one to speak proved I couldn’t actually stand spending any more time sitting silently and pretending I wasn’t bothered by Dr. Thomas standing there, watching me. “You know what you need to do.”
“I think you’re being unreasonable.”
“I think that I legally became a human being as soon as you detached me from your crazy mad science clone incubator, which means I’m entitled to basic human courtesy.” I turned another page. “It’s up to you.” Gregory wanted me to play along. Well, I was playing, but that also included a certain amount of understandable resistance. A totally complacent Georgia Mason would never have been believable, to anyone.
Dr. Thomas sighed. Finally, he said, “Hello, Georgia. May I come in?”
“Why, hello, Dr. Thomas.” I looked up, dog-earing the top of the page to keep my place. “Would it make any difference if I said you couldn’t?”
“No,” he said curtly. I was starting to learn the limits of his patience. It was difficult, more so than learning to tell his footsteps from the footsteps of the guards who usually accompanied him. If I pushed him too far, they’d gas the room, and I’d wake up to find that whatever tests I’d been balking at had been run while I was unconscious.
When I finished with my exposé of this place, the CDC was going to wish they’d been willing to leave me dead. I kept that thought firmly in mind as I plastered a smile across my face and said, “Well, then, come on in. What can I do for you?” I paused, something else about the situation registering. I’d only heard one set of footsteps. “Where are your guards?”
“That’s part of why I’m visiting. We’ve been reviewing your test results, and we’ve decided I don’t need them in your quarters.” Dr. Thomas’s smile looked as real as mine. Whoever made the decision to send him into my room without protection had done it without asking how he felt about it. And clearly, how he felt wasn’t good.
“Does that mean they’ve also decided I’m not a danger to society?”
“Don’t be too hasty, Georgia. It simply means they’ve decided that spontaneous amplification is not an immediate danger. We still have a lot to do before we can be confident your body is prepared to function outside a laboratory setting.” Dr. Thomas adjusted his glasses with one hand, something I’d learned to read as a nervous tic. “You may not feel particularly protected, but I assure you, this is the cleanest, most secure environment you have ever been in.”
“It’s definitely the most boring,” I agreed, twisting around to face him. I’d been sitting cross-legged on my bed for long enough that my thighs ached when I moved. That was good. It looked like I wasn’t doing anything. I was actually tensing and relaxing the muscles of my core, strengthening them as best I could without a better means of using them. I’d asked a few times about getting access to an exercise room, or at least a treadmill. So far, I’d had no luck. That meant I was getting my exercise where I could, and through whatever means available.
I never thought I’d be so grateful to Buffy for making me and Shaun sign up for that stupid virtual Pilates class.
The thought of Shaun, even that briefly, was painful. I pushed it away. I was still holding tightly to the belief that he was alive, but it was hard, and getting harder as Dr. Thomas continued not giving me anything to work with. I had to believe Shaun was alive. If I didn’t, I was going to go insane.
Assuming the CDC didn’t drive me crazy first.
“I thought you’d been provided with reading material?” Dr. Thomas gave my book a meaningful look. “That was what you requested, wasn’t it?”
“ ‘Something to read’ was on the list, yes, but I provided authors and titles, and nothing I’ve been given has been remotely like the things I asked for.” I blew a wayward strand of hair out of my face. “I’ve been asking for a haircut, too. Any idea when I might be able to get one? If it’s too hard to find someone on your staff who’s cut hair before, you can give me a pair of scissors and I can do it myself.”
“No, I’m afraid I can’t give you a pair of scissors, Georgia, and I’ll thank you not to make a suggestion like that again, unless you’d like to have your silverware privileges revoked.” Dr. Thomas frowned in what I’m sure was intended to be a paternal manner. He’d been trying that a lot recently, acting like he had a fatherly interest in my welfare. Maybe if my own father had ever shown that sort of interest, I would have believed it. As it was, all he’d managed to do was get on my nerves. “Asking for potential weapons is not a sign of mental stability.”
“Pardon me for arguing, Dr. Thomas, but I’m a clone living in a post-zombie America. I’m pretty sure not asking for potential weapons would be a much worse sign. Besides, I’m not asking for weapons, I’m asking for a haircut, and giving options if there’s no way to get me someone willing to do it.” I kept smiling. It was better than screaming.
Dr. Thomas sighed. “I’ll see what I can do. In the meanwhile, you’re going to need to do something for me.”
I stiffened. “What kind of something?” I asked carefully.
“We need to run some special tests tomorrow, in addition to the ones on your usual schedule. There’s some concern about your internal organs. These tests won’t be quite the noninvasive sort that you’ve become accustomed to, I’m afraid. They’ll be rather painful, and unfortunately, the nature of the needed data requires you to be awake during the process.”
“And they’re dealing with my internal organs?” I raised my eyebrows. It was a sign of how numb I was becoming to their endless tests that I couldn’t even work up a mild level of concern over the idea of my kidneys shutting down. “Are my internal organs doing something they’re not supposed to be doing?”
“No, no, not at all. We just want to be sure they’re not going to start doing something they’re not supposed to be doing. They’re much younger than you look, after all, and there’s always a chance for biological error.”
“I don’t really have a choice about this, do I?”
“Not really,” said Dr. Thomas. “I hoped you’d be accommodating, since we’re only concerned about your health.”
“If I don’t fight you on this, can I get some of the books from my list?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“How about that haircut?”
Dr. Thomas shook his head. “All things in good time, Georgia. For now, don’t push it. I’m going to need you to go on an all-liquid diet for the next twelve hours, and then we’ll be taking some fluid and tissue samples in the morning.”
That was one of the first indicators I’d had of the actual time. I perked up a little. “If the tests are being run in the morning, that makes it, what, four in the afternoon? Five?”
“Don’t push it,” Dr. Thomas repeated, and withdrew a pair of clear plastic handcuffs from his pocket. “It’s time for today’s tests.”
“This is really unnecessary,” I said, and presented my wrists.
“Hopefully, we won’t have to go through this for much longer.” Dr. Thomas snapped the cuffs into place, careful not to touch my skin. He never touched me when he could help it. The few times that I’d “tripped” and touched him with my bare hands, he’d practically injured himself lunging away from me. It was a funny response, but it wasn’t useful, especially not when I was trying to convince him that I was harmless.
“That would be nice,” I said, and stood, pausing a moment as my rubber-soled socks found traction on the hard tile floor. I would have preferred shoes—even slippers—but the orderlies responsible for my clothing wouldn’t let me have anything but socks. At least the rubber treads made it easier for me to walk with my hands restrained.
The cuffs didn’t come out until the third time they took me out of my room. They’d been a constant reality since then. If I left the room to go anywhere but the bathroom, I left it in handcuffs. Presumably, whoever was actually in charge of my care—and it wasn’t Dr. Thomas; if he’d been in charge of me, he would never have come near me—wanted to be sure I wasn’t going to make some sort of daring escape. I was never sure whether I should be flattered by their apparent faith in my ingenuity or insulted by the fact that they thought handcuffs would stop me. That was the sort of thing I had a lot of time to think about these days. Solitary confinement punctuated only by intrusive medical testing will do that for a person.
The guards were waiting in the hallway. I recognized both. Not surprising, but reassuring in its own way. If I was starting to know the guards on sight, that meant they didn’t have an infinite number of them. Eventually, they’d start thinking of me as a person, rather than as a test subject, and that would make them easier to get around when the day finally came for me to escape. Assuming I didn’t spontaneously amplify or suffer acute organ failure before then. Also assuming Gregory didn’t find a way to smuggle me out with the laundry, or do something else out of a bad pre-Rising heist movie.
Also, if the guards had never been repeated, I would have started to worry that they were being taken out back and shot after their shifts were finished. Call me sentimental, but I’d really rather not be the human equivalent of a death sentence.
One of the guards led us down the empty hall, while the other walked behind us. In the time since I woke up, I hadn’t seen anyone aside from Dr. Thomas, Gregory, the constantly shifting crew of guards, and the lab technicians who were waiting at the end of this little journey. If there were any other patients in the building, my handlers were doing an excellent job of keeping me away from them. Whether that was for my protection or for theirs, I couldn’t say.
We reached the end of the hall. The first guard pressed his hand against a blood test panel, waiting for the light over the door to go from red to green. The door opened, and the guard stepped through. Dr. Thomas repeated the process. The second guard gestured for me to do the same, not saying a word. None of the guards liked to talk to me. I’m pretty sure I made them nervous.