𝐘𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐲 - 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝟏𝟏𝟔𝟔

Chapter 1: The Doctor

The cold, fluorescent light bathed the small room in a sterile glow as Dr.  Harley Sawyer adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses and fixed his gaze upon Quinn Navidson, who sat cross-legged on the floor, wholly absorbed in his peculiar craft. He held a doll's head in one hand and a body in the other, mismatched parts assembled and reassembled in his lap.

"Quinn?" he asked softly, voice calm but probing. "Might I ask what it is you're doing?"

His eyes, deep and inscrutable, flicked up to the Doctor with a flicker of surprise, then back to his work. "Making my toys prettier, Doctor Sawyer," Quinn replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Dr. Sawyer shifted his stance, one eyebrow arching with amusement. "And you think they'd be prettier without heads?"

The question hung in the air, and Quinn glanced at his disassembled dolls with the barest hint of a smile, one that played at the corners of his mouth but never quite reached his eyes. "I think so," He said with conviction. "Their heads get in the way of their bodies. But if you put dolly's head from... this body over here... onto this one..." He swapped the heads, examining the effect with the critical eye of an artist. "See? He moves all better now."

Dr. Sawyer stepped closer, folding his hands behind his back as he observed the new doll configuration. "I do see..."

A moment of silence passed before he spoke again, softer this time. "I'm sure this is no surprise to you, Quinn, but your Counselors are concerned." His gaze flicked over the doll parts, then back to his intent face. "They perceive your behavior, what you're doing right now, to be... troublesome."

Quinn's fingers faltered, and a shadow crossed his face as he looked up at him, worry darkening his young eyes. "Oh... I'm sorry..." Quinn's voice was quiet, a note of hesitation weaving through his words.

He regarded Quinn thoughtfully. "Do you agree with their assessment?"

His brow furrowed, and he paused, seeming to turn the question over in his mind, lost in the labyrinth of words that had little meaning to him. Finally, he spoke, almost apologetically. "I don't know that word... I just want to make things prettier."

Dr. Sawyer's lips pressed into a thin smile, a private thought surfacing in his mind. "Yes," he murmured. "Don't we all..."

He crouched down to Quinn's level, his gaze direct but gentle. "You want to know what I think, Quinn?"

Quinn's hands stilled, her wide eyes rising to meet his, expectant. "What's that?"

"I think you hold back a lot of yourself," he said. The words were measured, spoken slowly, like pebbles dropped carefully into a still pond. "I think you mess up to make others have lesser expectations of you. And I think this—your behavior—is just a result of seeing the world a little differently." He watched as his words began to sink in. "There's nothing wrong with that."

The look in Quinn's eyes was one of dawning understanding, his head tilting ever so slightly as if Sawyer had just revealed a great secret to him.

"You're smart, Quinn. Capable," he continued. "And I think in your next test, you'll give all of yourself to achieve a good result. Do you know why?"

"Why?" Quinn asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Because I see you," Dr. Sawyer said, his voice as firm as his gaze. "Not the version of you others want to see. I see the real Quinn Navidson... And believe me this: I want the same prettier world you see."

The intensity in his words held the young boy, like a magician casting a spell. Quinn nodded slowly, a spark lighting his eyes with understanding, perhaps even hope.

Dr. Sawyer stood, a warm smile briefly softening his face. "So next week, when you have another go at the Game Station, I'll be watching. And I want to see all of the real Quinn on display." He paused, letting his words settle before he offered his hand to him. "Do we have a deal?"

For a moment, Quinn hesitated, his gaze drifting from the Doctor's hand to his eyes. And then, with a small, determined nod, he reached out and placed his hand in his. "Okay."

The handshake was brief, but it left a sense of promise lingering in the air. As Quinn returned his attention to his dolls, a new sense of purpose settled over him, subtle yet undeniable. Dr. Sawyer nodded to himself, satisfied, as he turned and made his way toward the door.

"Good," he said over his shoulder. "Don't disappoint me."

And with that, he left Quinn to his work, his small hands deftly reassembling the world in the only way he knew how, with the promise of something new—something real—taking root in his young mind.