Time for a Checkup

Aug 27, 2012 16:19

This is Part 14 in a series. The other thirteen should be read first for maximum enjoyment and understanding.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13

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I hate doctors, have ever since I was a little kid and learned about how Uphill City does their mind-control implants. They won't even let mothers hold their babies before sucking the independent thought out of them, and here I am, in an examining room being horribly reminded of that. It looks like the ones from my birthplace, only everything is shinier and newer, and there are “soothing” watercolor paintings on the walls. As I lie down, the paper on the examining table crackles. I just hope this is over with quickly.

A nurse in dull purple scrubs the color of the hovervan comes to check my blood pressure. He doesn't say a word to me, only grunts and points at me to offer my arm. It might be my imagination, but the cuff he uses squeezes me harder than the ones they use in Uphill City. My score is a perfectly normal 120/80, which surprises me because my heart's hammering. I do not like this room or the weirdly silent nurse. My temperature's in normal limits, too. A nice 98.6 degrees. Everything he checks is normal, but the vibe I'm getting is not.

He departs without saying a word, and I'm left to sit there waiting for the doctor. I wonder what the doctor's going to do and if they'll say so much as a word to me. Don't doctors kind of have to ask you questions? A few minutes later, the door pops open. My doctor's really short, I think to myself before realizing she isn't a doctor but an actual child of about nine years old. What the? I wonder.

“Hello!” says the kid.

I stare at her in astonishment, trying to wrap my mind around this strange person. The kid looks normal enough; she's tiny with wavy pale blonde hair and huge blue eyes. But she shouldn't be in my examining room, which is supposedly locked against intruders.

I sit up and ask her, “What's your name? Are you lost?”

“I'm Zoe, and no, I'm not lost.”

Not lost? “Then what are you doing in my exam room?”

She hops right onto the exam table to sit beside me. “I'm hiding.”

Now I'm truly baffled. “People don't usually announce they're hiding when they're hiding, Zoe.”

Brightly, she explains, “That's part of my problem.”

This is not making any sense. “Excuse me?”

She examines me like I'm some kind of shiny new puzzle. “You're that new lady Overseer Scarypants let into the Compound, aren't you? She never lets people in, but apparently your boyfriend Jake is a mutant and she's going to experiment on him.”

Overseer Scarypants? She must mean Kline. My stomach twists into a knot when Zoe mentions experimenting on Jake, but, at the same time, I can't say I'm actually all that surprised. The Overseer was already looking at him like he were an experiment when I met her in her office.

Before I get a chance to ask Zoe exactly what she means, the girl explains, “She wants to defeat the Faction and totally thinks your boyfriend is going to be like a weapon of mass destruction or something. I don't know what powers he has, but I'm gonna find out.”

I may have said I were “taken” by Jake to Mayor Grayson, but he's not my boyfriend. I tell Zoe as much. “Jake isn't my boyfriend, you know.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Then why were you holding his hand?”

I stammer, “How do you even know that?” Oops, I should have lied.

Zoe looks almost sad. “I know lots of stuff, which is why I thought Overseer Scarypants would let me into her Youth Spy Corps.”

“Her what?”

Zoe stares at the ground. “You wouldn't know about them. I'm not supposed to tell you, but I'm gonna anyway because they didn't let me in. The YSC is the young elite Scarypants personally oversees to train as spies to infiltrate the Faction. Who's gonna suspect a little kid, right? It's totally super awesome and you get to learn how to shoot guns and stuff, even.”

My jaw drops to the floor. “Kline has a what now?”

She scoffs, “Don't look so surprised. Anyway, they take kids from ages six to eight. I turned nine a week ago and didn't get an invite.”

“Why not?” I wonder, though I'm horrified enough at the idea of child spies to feel nauseated.

She sighs, “Because I can't keep my mouth shut and can't lie to save my life. That's what one of the trainers told me himself. It sucks.”

Considering she just told me all that, I would have to agree with the trainer's assessment. Still, Zoe seems nice enough, and I would hate to think of her on some deadly reconnaissance mission. As a nine year old. Nine. That's not even into the double digits, and Kline has kids that age preparing to risk their lives. If she's got this Youth Spy Corps, what kinds of horrible things is she going to do with Jake?

Zoe looks up at me urgently, “Could you, like, not tell anybody I told you this? I don't wanna get in trouble.”

I return her gaze. “The only person I would even think of telling is Jake.”

She contemplates this. “You might not wanna tell even him. What if Overseer Scarypants tortures him or something during one of her experiments and he spills the beans?”

Zoe says that so matter-of-factly. I'm beyond horrified, but I reply, “It's going to be hard to keep this to myself.”

I wonder if seeking shelter here was such a good idea after all. A roof over my head isn't worth it if Jake's being tortured. People willing to use child spies would have no compunctions about torture, I'm sure. What have I gotten us into?

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written for 500themes prompt #465 - "A Child's Path"

series: it's all downhill from here, 500themes, character: vivienne, fiction

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