Snippet #2102035

The room of Eliseo Ormano, or to be more precise the room that had been assigned to Eliseo Ormano after he had graduated from the nursery, was empty.

Not empty of furnishings; there was a bed, desk, and dresser set that seemed to have been crafted by a person who clearly valued function over taste, which in fact happened to be the case. Minimalistic and gray, they blended neatly into the dull gray walls, and taken together the interior design of the room gave the impression that it could gradually suck out the color and personality from any individual that lived there for too long. It reminded one of a plain and innocuous-looking sponge that might turn out to be an alien lifeform from a dystopian planet in one of those cheesy sci-fi flicks that people like to laugh over, except there wasn’t anyone for it to torture at the present, and ended up looking a little sad instead.

Yes, the room lacked its precious owner’s presence. This would pose a problem for the psychologist rapidly approaching the door, who would, in a few seconds time, knock on the door to the room and discover its vacancy. (But that didn’t matter very much to the room at all, since the psychologist would not be staying.)

“Eliseo?” Lane Hecker, after escorting his previous patient to the waiting room, was now in the business of searching for the other clones, starting with the easiest one to locate. “This is not the time to be playing hide-and-seek,” he called down the corridor. With the bored expression of someone far too familiar with the action, he briskly made his way to the nearest restroom, pushed open the entrance, and scanned the bottom openings of the stalls. Although all of them seemed unoccupied, his eyes immediately alighted on the last one, which happened to be only one that was closed, and upon closer examination, locked.

Lane knocked, only to receive a silence. “It's time to go, Eliseo. I know you’re in there.”

He was rewarded by a barely audible exhalation of breath. Then a low voice floated up from behind the stall door, flat and modulated, like the curvature of the earth. “Someday you’re going to walk in here and I’ll actually be taking a shit. What then?”

“Using humor as a defense mechanism," was the counter. "Very original.”

“Shut up.” Two long, thin feet dropped down, encased in a worn pair of canvas sneakers that were doodled over enthusiastically in blue and black ink. “I wasn’t hiding.”

“I didn’t say you were. I know you won’t abandon your duty now, especially out of fear... will you now?”

After what seemed like an eternity, the latch unlocked and the stall door swung open. “No,” Eliseo muttered defensively as he stepped out, but he was unable to look Lane in the eyes. When he was directly facing the psychologist Eliseo’s ability to sass or backtalk him always seemed to evaporate. All that time he had spent in therapy with Hecker had worn his will power to a nub... not that it had ever been a mighty statue in the first place.

They walked together toward the debriefing room, with Eliseo glumly fielding antagonizing questions about his feelings and expectations, before settling into a tense, uncomfortable silence. He figured Lane wouldn’t be as interested in “psychoanalyzing” him if he was consistently compliant and passive, like a 50-piece puzzle that was easy to get bored of, a strategy that worked, but only to a degree. People, unlike puzzles, constantly changed, and he could only give out so many obvious answers before he found himself in a trap.

It wasn’t fair. If only he had been able to score a much nicer babysitter, like Ellisia’s caretaker, the tender-hearted Dr. Moore. Whose twisted idea was it to put the facility’s biggest psychological bully in charge of the Fear fragment’s mental well-being?

When they reached their destination and the older adult left, taking with him his arsenal of mental weaponry, Eliseo let out a sigh of relief. He saw Aidan and Ellisia waiting and joined them, taking a seat beside the innocent looking brunette.