Chapter Two
The next morning as I prepared for work I found myself spending more time than usual on my appearance. For this first time in years I actually left my hair down, styled it, and sprayed perfume until the scent of something fancy and light filled my room. Even though I couldn't stand to see myself in the mirror, I wanted to feel beautiful, and it worked.
On my way into the building I waved at a few of the other women who worked here overnight. Nicole held the door for me and I scanned my badge to let Terry know I was here on time. "Did you hear about your sector?" Julie asked me, blue eyes wide.
"No?" I said, my heart beating faster immediately. Did someone find the audio recordings of my late night, prohibited chat with Michael? "Why, what happened?" I asked.
"I don't know, we were hoping you knew." Julie replied as we walked into the break room and took turns stashing our lunches into the cramped little fridge. "We assumed you saw something since it happened on your shift."
Dread and panic fought over space in my stomach and I felt like I might vomit. "W-what happened?" I asked again, needing answers. Unfortunately, it didn't seem like I would be getting them from my co-workers. We were all low level clearance, so I shouldn't assume they'd know these things. Honestly, the fact that they could offer me any type of forewarning was a blessing and a half.
"Don't worry, I'm sure it wasn't something too bad. Your subject definitely didn't escape it's sector, otherwise they would've called us all in early." Katie said in a tired voice. She sounded as if she'd been up all night. "Maybe there was just an equipment malfunction." She suggested.
"True, that does happen sometimes." Katie finally chimed in, her thumbs furiously typing away on her Chinese keyboard. Julie made a face and I wanted to ask her about it, but the day shift guards came in and the break room suddenly felt pretty crowded. Tugging down my coat from the hanger on the wall, I thanked my lucky stars that no one had taken it while I was away. It was always a frigid 56 degrees in here, and I had been told that it almost never changed. Our comfort wasn't exactly important because the ideal temperature for the symbiotes we contained here were close to freezing. The fact that they tolerated this 'high' temperature was a godsend. I'd asked Paul, the man who worked in my sector during the day, why they couldn't simply keep the containment cell cold and allow the rest of the building to be warm. He'd shrugged and grunted, offering no response. He wasn't exactly a very forthcoming man when it came to small talk.
The other women and I parted ways after a light discussion about break times and my promise to keep them updated, and I gave my sector a long look as I gathered the courage to walk down the hallway. Did they watch the cameras and see Michael and I having a conversation? Had they watched him pleasure himself as he reacted to my attention? Would they fire me? Worse?
Questions buzzed around in my head like a swarm of angry bees while my stomach twisted itself into knots like a dying snake. I was a mess of nerves, but my shift had started two minutes ago. There was no time to disappear into the bathroom and calm myself down. I scanned my badge and walked down the hallway when the heavy doors opened. They resembled something out of a sci fi game, or a spy movie about a vault. Every time they closed the resounding soft thud settled into my bones like cancer. Being here day after day had been torture...at least, until last night. Today was the first day I was genuinely looking forward to being at work.
When I reached my tiny office I expected to find big, serious men in black shades and trench coats waiting to escort me to an interrogation room. Instead, I saw only the backs of several lab coats. "Hello?" I said softly. Every head turned. The men were completely nondescript, just the most average looking people imaginable. They were all close in age, around forty to fifty years old, with graying hair and khakis. One of them, the oldest, had a mustache that resembled Yosemite Sam, and one of them looked kind of like McDreamy from that one medical drama my mom loved, except with a belly and thinning hair.
"You must be Miss. Anderson. I'm Dr. Roberts," Bargain Bin McDreamy introduced himself, offering a hand. I gently shook it. "This is Dr. Brennan and Dr. Heisenberg." He gestured at his colleagues and I shook their hands as well. The Yosemite Sam look-a-like turned out to be the man behind Michael's files. So he was the one who had been trying to figure out my new friend for years. Was he the reason Michael had such an adverse reaction to me when he'd suspected I was another scientist? The thought made me sick. If that was the case, I did not like this man one bit. "You were the security officer on shift when S.E-006 became active last night. We wanted to talk to you about the behaviors you witnessed." Dr. Roberts told me, leaning against my desk and crossing his arms.
"What would you like to know?" I asked him, eyes nervously slitting from face to face, trying to read them. Calm down. These were smart men, and they could probably tell I was nervous. I didn't need anyone suspecting me in this incident.
Dr. Heisenberg cleared his throat, mustache moving like a dancing caterpillar. "This subject in particular is of special interest to the facility. We need to know exactly what you witnessed during your last shift." He said, and all three of them pulled out pens, clicked them, and waited, poised to write on little pads from their coats. Dr. Brennan even pulled out a tape recorder.
"Uh," Wow, what a start. Way to sell my confidence. "D-don't you guys, um...have everything recorded?" I asked.
"No." Dr. Roberts shook his head.
"What? Why not?" I asked, surprised.
All three of them shared a look. "That's off-topic. Please, begin at the start of the behaviors and provide all the details you can remember." Dr. Heisenberg attempted to redirect me. Odd. Were the cameras all for show? Did they not keep records of the subjects? That made no sense. There had to be something else going on.
"What do you mean by behaviors?" I asked.
"Anything outside of S.E-006's normal routine." Dr. Roberts replied.
"Ah, well. The subject woke up at...some time after 3 AM." I said, making a wild guess.
"Can you be more specific?" Dr. Heisenberg asked.
"No." I said in a flat tone. He didn't seem to appreciate that. "I was doing paperwork, and when I looked up he was--"
"Who?" Dr. Heisenberg interrupted.
"The subject." I answered. They all scribbled on their notepads. "He--it woke up while I was doing paperwork, I believe that the audio test tone might've startled it awake." I told them.
"Are you sure?" Dr. Roberts asked me.
"Yes." I replied firmly.
"Because we need you to be sure." He continued.
"Yes, I am sure that the audio is what woke the subject." I enunciated every syllable to accurately display how fed up I had become with their interrogation tactics. "When I looked up, I saw the subject had approached the mic and cameras. It spoke and--"
"It spoke?" Dr. Heisenberg demanded, his bushy brows raising until I could actually see his eyes. "What did it say? Are you sure it spoke?" He asked.
"Y-yes, it spoke. It called out to see who was making the sound. When I didn't respond--"
"You didn't respond?" Dr. Brennan asked, as if for clarification.
"Stop interrupting me." I snapped. They all looked at me like toddlers who had just been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. "When I didn't respond, the subject became...distraught." I said.
They seemed to wait to see if I had more to say. When I remained silent, they took the initiative to speak again.
"Distraught?" Dr. Heisenberg asked, as if that wasn't the correct answer to a question.
"Why didn't you respond?" Dr. Roberts asked.
"Are you sure you don't remember what time this was?" Dr. Brennan asked.
Taking a deep breath, I rubbed my forehead. They were giving me a headache. "The subject remained by the mic, and I watched until about five AM. Then it returned to it's bed, and I finished my paperwork." I told them. Maybe this would excuse me for being so late on filing the tasklist? Probably not, but a girl could dream.
They all spent a minute or so writing, and then Dr. Heisenberg regarded me for a moment. "Why didn't you respond?" He asked me.
I looked at them blankly. "We're not supposed to interact with the subjects." I reminded them. It had been made very clear, multiple times throughout my hiring and training process, that we were NOT scientists, and we were NOT permitted to engage with the subjects. Doing so could interfere with the research the scientists were doing, and this meant that being caught engaging with them could land us with a serious criminal charge, something akin to meddling in government funded research.
"Do you know what the subject left for us to find after your shift?" Dr. Heisenberg asked me, and by his tone I got the awful feeling he suspected that I was lying.
Tugging at my hair, I regretted not braiding it today. When I was nervous, pulling my hair helped me calm myself just a bit. Now, I had nothing, and I was losing my ability to hold up the lie I'd been trying to sell through nondisclosure of all the juicy details. "It left something?" I asked, confused.
The men looked at each other again. I hated that. They had obviously been communicating about this entire conversation hours in advance. Three against one wasn't fair. "For the sake of clear communication, I'll speak plainly with you. The subject left approximately fifty gallons of genetic material on the walls and floor near the mic and camera position in it's cell." He told me.
"What?" I asked, trying to sell the dumb young college drop out angle.
"Semen." Dr. Roberts supplied. "The subject brought itself to climax and ejaculated in the cell, something we've never seen from it before." He said, being much clearer than his superior.
My face reddened and I looked away. Honestly, I had realized this morning that they'd probably found his, er, deposit when they arrived, but for some reason I hadn't expected this to be a first time occurrence for Michael. Sure, he was locked in a cell and kept at an icy 52 degrees fahrenheit and subjected to rigorous experiments, but men had found ways to unload some cargo in worse circumstances, right? "Um." God, what should I say? Good for him? Hope y'all aren't jealous? Imagine how that would feel against a girl's cervix?
My thighs clenched and I felt my sex spasm. God, now was not the time.
"I'm sorry to have to ask you this, but did you stray near the doors to Level Four?" Dr. Heisenberg asked me. "Your perfume is rather strong. Did you wear that last night, as well?" He added.
"No! I-I didn't go near the doors." I insisted. "Look, I noticed it became active near the mic, but I thought it was just sniffing around. If I had noticed anything like that, I definitely would've made a note of it and filed the paperwork." That was a lie. I hated paperwork. There was no way I'd do it for even the most well paying job.
"I see. Well, if the subject becomes active again this evening, make sure you pay attention to every camera, not just the one it goes near. Document any and all behaviors." Dr. Heisenberg told me. I nodded. "And, no matter what it does or says, do not engage with it in any way, Miss. Anderson." He told me.
"Of course." I replied.
