Subject R - ON HOLD

chapter 12

Chapter 12:

I can feel sweat starting to bead on my forehead, and I quickly wipe it away so that no one sees it. We're back in the 'Prep Room' (Geoffry just called it that a few minutes ago, and I'm slightly irritated that no one told me what it was called before!), the small waiting-room-like area outside of Subject R's holding cell.

Its been only a day since the last time I was here, when I'd fed Subject R. And he'd nearly killed me thinking that the food we'd given him was treated with some sort of sedative. After that little adventure, we'd immediately all crowded into the meeting room to dissect every little bit of the entire forty-one minute episode.

My theory that Subject R had had me eat part of every food and nearly killing me for thinking that the food was treated was debated for nearly an hour (Good Christ, there was always SOME objection), but then accepted. Winter had given me a bright smile, and Geoffry had even put his arm around me while we were leaving (I about died from pure excitement, though I can't tell if it was just team-workerly companionship or something more). Mrs. Feng and Mr.McCaulty both shook my hand and commended me for figuring it out and working well in the 'field'. (And they both glared at each other after they realized they'd both said basically the same thing.

Joseph and Christopher even talked to me almost like an equal, which I was very surprised of.

And what wasn't surprising was that Helena looked like she wanted to kill me.

After the meeting she did come up and congratulate me on my 'job well done', but I could see how badly she wanted to rip my head from my body. I was so frightened of her I couldn't even feel smug.

Now, I'm sweating to death because, Helena is coming into the cell with me.

I don't know who decided it, but I found out only about an hour ago and I've been sweating that entire time. I don't know how my scrubs didn't get drenched once I put them on. And frankly, I don't know why I'm sweating so much either. Usually when I get nervous my stomach starts to twist itself into knots, but I don't sweat like a pig in August! Its disgusting!

And it seems like Helena knows how absolutely nervous I am of going in there with her, but she looks positively pompous while an assistant hooks up her Panic Button.

Oh yes, we're switching from our 'Signal Controls' to 'Panic Buttons'. Instead of it being an obvious type of necklace dangling from our necks, it will be a small, skin-toned patch with a very sensitive button that will stick to my hand, in easy reach of my thumb. Since it is so small the signal can't go very far, so a strap with a receiver and also a tiny output antennae will be strapped to my upper arm just under by shoulder and easily covered by my scrubs.

I'm waiting behind her, a few feet away, while they adjust the strap so that it doesn't fall off and stick the patch to her hand. They're also going to run a few tests with it too, to make sure it works, so it may be another minute or two before they begin working on me.

I nervously wipe my sweaty hands off on my scrubs pants again, feeling a twinge of jealousy join my anxiety.

She looks to absolutely calm. Not a mahogany hair out of place, not a drop of sweat, not a single tremor in her voice. She was chattering casually with the man adjusting her arm strap, like he was only putting a bracelet on her rather than a life-saving device. And then there's me, my hair a mess from me constantly messing with it, close to shaking, and so soaked with sweat it probably looks like I just stepped out of a shower.

Helena is finished and she pulls the sleeve of her scrub shirt down over the strap and antennae. She looks over her shoulder at me and I can almost see her ego swelling.