The Vessel

7. Colloquium

Doctor Dubicki placed her hands under the evaporator, rubbing them together until the pale skin was perfectly dry. In the mirror, she arranged the shock of white in her otherwise dark-gray hair and smiled at the woman looking back at her. Considering her age, she was holding up rather nicely, if she did say so herself. She'd even caught a few men checking out her figure when her back was turned, whenever they thought she wasn't looking.

That was one thing about her no one seemed to realize: she was always looking. It was a professional habit, built from years of analyzing patients. As the main Psych Doctor on board, she had to notice every detail about the person across from her. Even the slightest disturbance in their thinking, magnified under the stresses of travel and confinement, could have disastrous results if left untreated. They'd learned that lesson the hard way, though no one spoke of those early days much anymore. Most people preferred to forget the details of the past and instead focus on the parts they liked. She brushed the memory aside, adjusted her white uniform, and left the bathroom behind, the light clicking off behind her.

Seated back at her desk, she checked her screen for new messages. There was one blinking notification to be opened, though it would have to wait. Her next appointment was on its way, and this was one that couldn't be postponed. There were people waiting on her analysis.

A black beetle walking across the surface of her desk caught her eye. She reached out and crushed it under her thumb, feeling the gentle, wet crunch of its shell popping under her finger. Right on time, the door chime sounded softly. She scooped the dead beetle away, knocking it to the floor before wiping her hands clean. And she had just gone through the trouble of washing them.

"Enter," she said calmly.

Peace Officer Kash appeared in the dilated door, holding his prisoner by the arm. "Hey, doctor. You requested this one to be released to you." Kash nodded to Desanto, who looked less than enthusiastic to be there.

"Yes, thank you so much for bringing him."

"You want me to stick around and make sure he behaves?"

"No, I think you've done plenty," she replied with a smile.

Kash sniffed. "Suit yourself." He glanced at Desanto one last time before leaving, looking disappointed that he couldn't exercise some of the more violent tendencies Doctor Dubicki had noticed in the man. But that wasn't important just then, because Desanto was standing in her doorway, his body like a wound-up spring ready to release. He could just as easily run away as step forward into her office.

It was very possible she'd let Kash leave too soon.

"I understand you've had a rough day," she offered. Desanto refused to look at her, choosing to stare at the Van Gogh on her wall. It was an original, a thing she took great pride in, even if it technically didn't belong to her. "Please," she said, "come in."

Desanto didn't move. She took a breath, knowing her work was cut out for her.

"You can try punching and kicking your way out of here, but I can promise you won't make it far. Or," she said, "you can come in and talk, and I can help you understand what's happening to you."

Desanto finally looked at her. His eyes burned with questions as well as the bloodshot, slightly swollen look of a man who had met the angry end of a peace stick. Just then James Crick passed by, glancing into the doctor's office as he walked up the hallway toward his own. "Greetings, Allcleric," she called out. He simply nodded back with the usual disapproving look on his face. When the Allcleric was gone, she turned back to Desanto. "Don't mind him, he's just quiet around people he believes are going to burn in Hell."