Logs:Terrible Science

Terrible Science
Dramatis Personae Flicker, Doctor Messer
In Absentia	2019-08-05 "I don't tolerate any extracurricular cruelty." (Set in the Blackburn TP-Prometheus facility.)
Location <PRO> Blackburn Research Facility - Examination Room
It's been a long time, or maybe no time at all. In the bland white walls of the examination room, Flicker has been restless. Growing steadily moreso as the minutes tick by in solitude since he's been brought here. He looks a mess, ugly bruising in various shades of blue and greenish speckling his arms and swollen across his face. Earlier he had been pacing, but that's ceased now; he looks paler and a little bit shaky. Alternating between leaning against the wall and sitting, gingerly, on the edge of the examination table. It takes a bit but eventually he settles, somewhat, folding his arm across his chest and bowing his head. It's another minute or so before the door finally opens, covered by two guards with their sidearms drawn and ready. The woman who squeezes in between them -- white, in her late thirties or early forties, slightly on the short and plump side, though rather fit overall -- looks vaguely out of place in the midst of all the non-nonsense tactical gear. She looks half asleep still, her glasses sitting slightly askew, a few brown curls escaping from a slap-dash updo, her lilac blouse wrinkled beneath a labcoat whose pockets are over-crowded with pens. She's carrying a notebook and a tablet in the crook of one arm, and a travel coffee mug that reads "Thou shalt not dictate my reproductive rights" in gothic script, the very first letter enlarged and illuminated with a uterus "flexing" its fallopian tubes, ovaries styled as fists. "Good morning, Mr. Allred," she says brightly, shoving her glasses farther up the bridge of her nose as she fetches up against the other side of the table. Her Prometheus employee badge identifies her as Dr. Katarina Messer, Senior Staff Researcher. "I'm Katie Messer. So sorry to have kept you waiting, but I'm no good before my coffee. Would you like something to drink?" Two guards -- not the ones pointing their pistols, who stay put -- follow her in and stand on either side of the door, staring balefully at Flicker. Flicker looks up slowly, his arm still wrapped around his chest. His eyes shift first to the guards' guns. Then over to Messer's coffee mug, fixing on it a long time. Eventually he just blinks, and bows his head again in silence. Messer gives Flicker a patient and attentive moment before pulling out the chair and seating herself. "You look like you've had a difficult time of it here," she observes, pointedly not looking at the guards. "I'm sorry that you're hurt, and can see to it you receive proper medical attention." She takes a long gulp of her coffee and taps at the screen of her tablet. "I doubt you will take me up on this, but if you experience abuse from any of the staff here, you can tell me, and I will do my best to take care of it." At first Flicker doesn't reply, head still bowed in silence. When he does look up, it's back at the mug and not at Messer. "Abuse besides locking me in a cage to be a guinea pig, you mean?" Messer does not seem the least surprised by this turn of conversation. "That is what I mean," she replies, no hint of irony or derision in her tone. "I have no illusions about what it is I or my colleagues do, but I don't tolerate any extracurricular cruelty. I prefer to make the rest as minimally awful as I can, but my power over that here is limited." "Scheduled cruelty only. Got it. That bodily autonomy thing only goes so deep with you, huh?" Flicker leans back against the table, fingers clenching into a fist where they're curled against his side. "Thanks, but I'll take the honest rapists." "As deep as I can." Messer opens her notebook and roots around in her pockets for a pen -- apparently not just any pen will do, though the one she finally does start scribbling with looks like a perfectly common gel pen. "I'm not going to defend my complicity in this. I just wanted you to know your options, such as they are." Her pen pauses on the page, and her bright blue eyes lift up to regard him steadily. "How is Jamie doing, in your view?" Flicker's brows lift. He starts to straighten. Forces himself to settle back, into a lean against the edge of the exam table again. He takes in a slow breath, looks down at the floor. Says nothing. Again Messer waits, evincing no frustration at Flicker's reticence. "I care about this young man a lot, and he's rather..." She taps her chin with the pen thoughtfully. "...taken with you. I hope that you'll not take advantage of his trust." Flicker just raises his eyebrows again. "Do you listen to yourself even a little bit?" "I do try -- I am a psychologist first and foremost." Messer still seems unfazed as she starts writing again. "But self-assessments can be tricky. If you have some complaint about the way I'm addressing this, please feel free to enlighten me." She tucks the pen into her hair and takes up her coffee again. "I don't care what you think of my intentions with him, which I'm sure is not a lot, but I am worried about his mental health. You, your team, your surreptitious meddling, and your -- let's be frank, extremely unwise -- rescue attempt have destabilized him, and he is in a very delicate state." Flicker closes his eyes. His fingers press tightly against his side. Very softly, the melody only barely audible, he hums to himself. Messer is quiet for a moment. She puts the mug down and casts around for her pen. It takes her a few seconds to find it sticking out of her hair. "I suspect you're not going to cooperate with a full mental health evaluation, though you could probably benefit from one." She scribbles a bit more. "You exhibit consistently self-destructive behaviors, and even if you don't care about the impact on yourself, I hope you'll consider the impact on those around you." She cocks her head slightly. "No man is an island unto himself." "What I could benefit from," Flicker replies, extremely mildly, only now actually looking at Messer, "is going home." Messer underlines something on the page -- her handwriting is all but illegible. "Probably so, but that's not a particularly healthy fixation here. For any of you, but you especially." Her expression is a study in benign concern. "Besides, being home didn't stop you attempting to break into Lassiter, which, under the circumstances, was practically suicide." She taps her cheek with the pen now. "It was rather irresponsible of your partner, letting you do that with only his support." The hitch that catches at Flicker's breath is tiny, barely there. The firm hard swallow that rolls down his throat is more noticeable. His weight sags harder against the table, and what little color remained in his face bleeds out of it as his hand clenches harder at his side. "He's not my --" he starts to say, but the words come out thin and cracked and falter before he makes it to the end of the sentence. Messer studies Flicker closely, and lifts her fine brown eyebrows at his partial denial. "He isn't? I do apologize, I was misinformed." She writes something down rapidly and, as an afterthought, adds something in the margin beside it. "Still, it seems negligent on his part. And afterwards, they didn't even attempt to rescue you. Certainly, it would have be quite dangerous, but..." She rests her elbows on the tabletop and leans forward slightly. "...probably not more dangerous than every single raid is, for you personally." "You all whisked me away in the middle of the night to who knows where, it wasn't --" Flicker lifts his eyes upward, training them steadily on the ceiling. His breathing has grown a little shakier, his jaw clenching hard. "I know what I'm getting into with these," he manages, softer and carefully controlled. "And I'd gladly keep doing it if it meant getting even one more person free of your abuse." "They surely knew where to find you before that, though." Messer rolls the pen idly between her hands. "Or, at least, Hive knew, and he either failed to inform the others in time, or they decided to leave you. Like they left Jamie." She tilts her head slightly to one side. "Like they'd wanted to leave Hive. It is good that you are comfortable with your choice, at least, and I admire your convictions." She writes a short note and underlines something, then looks up levely at Flicker. "Still, I would recommend against reminding the other staff members of that, when you are working with them." Flicker's gaze remains trained up. His hand drops from where it's pressed against his side, palm bracing on the edge of the examination table and his fingers curling hard against it. "You all are worse scientists than I thought if you couldn't already make some educated guesses as to where my convictions fall when it comes to the evil you do here." "Oh, Prometheus does terrible science," Messer agrees easily. "No peer review, no controls to speak of, and, as you keep pointing out, an abusive environment that skews both subject performance and researcher observation." She puts the pen away and steeples her fingers. "But, here we are, and whatever you may think of me, I am the closest thing to an ally you will find among the staff." She spreads her hands before her. "I don't expect you to take me up on that, but I will do my level best to keep you safe." Slowly, Flicker's breaths are steadying. His grip on the table eases, fractionally. "Are you going to put me back in my cell after this pep talk or are you just trying to put a good face on my upcoming vivisection?" "I'm afraid I'm not allowed to tell you what they're going to do, but you are scheduled for procedures today," Messer says, bowing her head slightly as though genuinely apologetic. "It was the only way the administrators here would agree to keep you alive, but this interview was for my records. You are still my patient first." She closes her notebook and gathers it into a stack with her tablet. "I will check in with you later in the week. Until then, Mr. Allred." She departs, but the guards remain.