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Reduction & Relocation - Lori Warren
Chapter 10 - Break Time
[September 30th, 2005]
Freshly unwrapped from the communal fridge of the RR Labs Breakroom, the spinach and romaine lettuce of Dr. Carla Stanhope’s salad crunched with primal satisfaction between her teeth. Having skipped breakfast that morning, the red-headed doctor was too hungry to wait, accepting another forkful of greens and sun-kissed tomatoes into her mouth as she searched among the assorted, eclectic collection of coffee mugs on the countertop for the television remote.
Not to be dissuaded from her goal, the red-headed doctor broadened her search from the countertop to the cozy, secluded corner of the break room. In that corner rested a pale pink, three cushion sofa where many a weary body and restless mind could find rejuvenation. Dr. Stanhope’s diligent search finally paid off, having found the device wedged deep between two of its plush cushions.. She returned to the countertop adjacent to the fridge to retrieve her salad and prepared a small cup of Camomile tea.
The table at the center of the RR Labs break room stood as a hub of activity, leisure, and convergence. It was a gathering place where the scientists, doctors, researchers, and interns alike could congregate during breaks. Its polished surface, crafted from dark mahogany, was smooth with little blemishing and it lent an aura of elegance and sophistication to the otherwise utilitarian space. It reflected the soft glow of the overhead lights and absorbed conversations of years passed, scientific and otherwise.
The redhead slid her salad to the side and in its place, she stationed a compact keyboard. Her fingers fluttered over the keys, a gentle clacking of their soft, malleable plastic as they actuated quickly and obediently under her direction. She struck the enter key with her pinky and immediately was greeted by a brief welcoming screen with the RR Labs logo. Walls of text, reminiscent of the code in the Matrix movies but in many assorted colors, flooded over the 60-inch wall-mounted television screen.
It was a good thing they’d sprung for large televisions; reviewing all this data on conventional computer monitor screens was a challenge that would now hopefully drift off into the past as a distant memory and a bragging right for those with seniority. The powers that be sure got points for upgrading the displays in the Subject Monitoring Station but much like tech-startups that provide comfy couches and arcade machines at work, upper-management’s motives were clear in deciding to install one of the televisions in the breakroom. Hooked up to cable as well as the monitoring network…and since the lab was filled with workaholics, the breakroom sometimes became just another workroom but with eating permitted.
Dr. Stanhope took another bite of her salad. Lemon and honey chicken seemed like a strange combination, but the explosions on her tastebuds indicated that the risk was well worth the reward.
‘Good call, Hallmark Cooking…’ she thought.
Fire-red locks fluttered along pale, freckled cheeks as the chewing doctor turned her head toward the sound of the break room door opening. A gentle breeze swept in, carrying with it the typical soft chatter in the public hallways of RR Labs. The room returned to relative silence as the door was pulled shut.
“Hey, Taylor.” Dr. Stanhope said with a smile, returning half the gaze of her emerald green eyes to the pixelated ocean of scrolling values and readings on the giant display.
The doctor’s golden locks cascaded in soft, textured waves that bounced as she unbuttoned and removed her pristine-white lab coat. Underneath the professional garment was a cute sky blue t-shirt with a single yellow sunflower on the front. She turned toward the rack of lab coats, finding her empty hook directly next to Dr. Stanhope’s. Atop it was a placard with her name in bubbly, handwritten cursive:
Dr. Becotte
“Hi Carla.” Dr. Becotte replied with a smile, hanging her lab coat. She floated with elegance to the fridge, grabbing a small striped-pink reusable lunch bag. The blonde adjusted her shirt down around her denim-clad hips and took a seat at the wooden table with Dr. Stanhope..
“So I guess you’re just always working, huh?” Dr. Becotte remarked playfully, eyeing the fields of scrolling data dancing along the display.
“No, only 99% of the time.” Dr. Stanhope quipped.
Dr. Becotte couldn’t help but laugh, “Oh, that’s a good one!”
“Were you trying to watch something?” Dr. Stanhope asked, suddenly realizing that Dr. Becotte may want to use the breakroom television to watch something, but the blonde research scientist seemed just as interested as Dr. Stanhope was in the cascading numerical values on the screen.
“No, no it's fine.” Dr. Becotte reassured, her crystal-blue eyes scanning the large screen TV as her nimble fingers unzipped the pink lunch bag. “Lunch won’t take too long anyway.”
She says with a smile pulling out a strawberry Boost shake.
“No lunch?” Dr. Becotte asked as Dr. Stanhope removed from the pink lunch bag a single strawberry Boost shake.
Dr. Becotte popped the cap and took a sip, “Nope, gotta fit into that two-piece this summer.”
Dr. Stanhope scoffed, leaning back in her chair, “Oh stop it, Taylor. You know you’re absolutely gorgeous.”
Dr. Becotte exhaled after taking several long sips, her tongue poking ever-so-slightly from between her lips to carry the remainder of the strawberry sweetness into her mouth, “Well, I’m also insanely jealous of your red hair and freckles, but that’s neither here nor there.”
Dr. Becotte scooted her chair under the table and took another drink of her shake, motioning toward the giant display of colorful scrolling text. “So who are we looking at?”
The redhead slid her salad to the side and in its place, she stationed a compact keyboard. Her fingers fluttered over the keys, a gentle clacking of the soft plastic keys as they actuated quickly. She struck the enter key with her pinky and immediately the rainbow wall of text and tangled forest of line graphs eroded away. The data simplified down to only three graphs and three series of numbers, each graph-number pair a different color.
The first graph-number pair was bright green.
The second was vivid violet.
The third was hot pink.
“I’ve got 284c, 108r, and 324v this week,” Carla read.
“Oh, I think I had 284c last month actually.” Dr. Becotte squinted in concentration. “Funny he’d be up on the random screening twice in a row. Who’s he with again? It's on the tip of my tongue….Libby? Lilly?”
“Lillith.”
“Ohhh that’s right!” Dr. Becotte gently tapped the table. “Yeah, I remember now. Gothic-type girl? Looks like she’s never seen the sun?”
Dr. Stanhope raised an eyebrow, “Taylor…”
A grin of mischief and sincerity, the balance unknown to Dr. Stanhope, spread on Dr. Becotte’s face. “Don’t give me that look! Pale is in, Carla! I meant it as a compliment.”
“Well, as someone who is either red or white…” Dr. Stanhope smirked, showcasing her fair skin. Her arms at least carried a fraction of a tan, but when she pulled away the collar of her shirt, the porcelain white skin around her prominent collarbone juxtaposed blatantly against her thick black bra strap. “...I sympathize with LIllith. But anyway, yes…that’s her.”
The two doctors gazed at the dancing graphs and scrolling text values in fascination.
“Golly, she really puts him through the ringer, huh?” Dr. Becotte remarked.
“Tell me about it…and she’s got an incredible rear for housing.” Dr. Stanhope replied, hiding the green and violet graph-number pair and leaving only the pink set.
With much more screen real-estate to spread out upon, the single pink graph automatically flowered out into several graphs, displaying even more information about subject-284c, updated every 4 seconds in real time. She hovered over one of the graphs that had remained at a steady value for some time.
“In the past 2 days, he’s only been out from between her buttocks for…” Dr. Stanhope trailed off, clipping the time region of the graph to expand the x-axis. “…about 25 minutes.”
“Crazy, right?” Dr. Becotte said, savoring the final droplets of her sweet strawberry Boost shake. “That’s exactly how she was when I was monitoring, too. Looks like you might have another eligible member for the 99% club, huh?”
“Oh, Katie already approved the preliminary paperwork I drafted last month. Six months from now will mark five full years since Lillith began housing her subject.”
“And five years is the minimum requirement to be considered, right?” Dr. Becotte asked.
Dr. Stanhope nodded and continued, “...believe it or not, this is a pretty normal ratio for Lillith and her subject…has been for years. So yeah, she regularly qualifies for the 99% Club.”
“What is 99% of a full day again? In minutes?” Dr. Becotte asked and then quickly rephrased her question, “Or I guess a better way to ask would be what is 1% of a full day? …the amount of time he’d actually be out of her butt?”
Without much of a pause, Dr. Stanhope responded, “14 minutes and 24 seconds.”
“Good golly, Carla!” Taylor exclaimed with an amazed giggle, “I spend more time washing my hair.”
The two women shared a friendly and cheerful chuckle over the comparison.
“Oh look at this, Taylor…” Dr. Stanhope gestured toward the hot pink graphs and numbers. “...Were his indicators at this threshold when you were monitoring him last month?”
Dr. Becotte wrinkled up her brow trying to remember, “I’m not too sure.”
“They suggest he’s made massive improvements in adapting to the environment of Lilith’s backside, at least compared to the value from exactly one year ago.” Carla remarked in fascination.
“Hmmm…yeah maybe…” Dr. Becotte replied skeptically, “...but he probably hasn’t accepted though.”
The blonde doctor gestured toward a wildly oscillating hot pink curve. “Check out the mins and maxes on the stress fluctuations.”
“Ahh” Dr. Stanhope observed, “Yeah, you may be right about that. Hard to know for sure.”
Suddenly, several of the graphs spiked up to new maximum values for the narrow window of time visible on each of them
“Whoa, which ones are those?” Dr. Becotte asked.
“Hmmm…” Dr. Stanhope adjusted the text size of the graph titles. “Looks like they’re the instantaneous monitor values for Blood Oxygenation, Epidermal Surface Temperature, Olfactory Stimulation…”
There were several other more complicated parameters, but both girls giggled lightly under their breath, not feeling the need to delve deeper into the moment to understand what happened. They both knew exactly what that sudden spike meant for the subject’s experience.
“Let’s hope no one was around to hear that one, Lilith.” Dr. Becotte chirped through the subtle grin on her face.
The attention of Dr. Stanhope and Dr. Becotte was pulled from subject 284c’s ongoing experience in Lilith’s backside to the break room door opening once more. It was another blonde woman. She was shorter than Dr. Becotte and her hair was more of a platinum blonde. She appeared disheveled and disorganized, which was unlike her, as she shuffled in and pulled the door shut behind her. A look of disdain spread across her young face as she removed her aqua blue gloves. She tossed them with sass and attitude into the waste bin and made a bee-line for the sink.
“Hey Quinn, gotta take off your lab coat before you come all the way in.” Dr. Becotte pointed out.
Quinn looked up, not even realizing anyone was in the room. “Oh, hi Dr. Becotte. Sorry about that. Hi, Dr. Stanhope.
“Is everything alright, Quinn?” Dr. Stanhope asked.
“Yeah, yeah” Quinn claimed, failing in her efforts to convince Dr. Stanhope. “I umm..just came from ‘Install & Exam Room B’.”
The senior doctors looked at each other then back at Quinn. “Observing?”
Quinn hung up her extra-small, paper-thin lab coat on one of the hooks with no label and resumed her straight path to the sink. “Installing….or I guess re-installing.”
Dr. Stanhope replied, “Ohhh, I see. Intense, I suppose?”
Quinn lathered her hands with liquid lavender hand soap, aggressively scrubbing until her small hands were covered in foam. She normally looked like a fair, blonde, level-headed, albeit conceited but still friendly and eager-to-learn intern but this state of frazzlement was new for the young woman. The two doctors found the elegant young intern’s situation, if their general suspicions were correct, to be a bit entertaining if not downright cute.
“Oh yuck…was it ever.”
Quinn turned away from the sink, water pooling at her thin fingers and dripping from her white nail polish. A look of concern grew on her face, probably remembering that she wasn’t just chatting with the other interns right now. “Oh, please don’t tell Dr. Walker I said that though!”
Dr. Stanhope and Dr. Becotte were both quick to squash Quinn’s concerns over her brief breaching of formality, “Don’t worry about it; we’ve all been there.” Dr. Stanhope assured, glancing over at Dr. Becotte who smirked and raised her eyebrows in agreement. “What exactly happened?”
Quinn sighed, “It was a follow-up…like a 1-year or 2-year I think, I don’t know…maybe even longer…something like that. Anyway, Dr. Walker had done the interview and let me sit in to observe. The interview/follow-up was with a lady named Mrs. Romero.”
“Sofia Romero?” Dr. Becotte asked, her attention perked and following Quinn with her eyes as the intern dried her hands and approached the table to have a seat. “I think I saw Laura checking her in this morning.”
“You probably did.” Dr. Stanhope remarked, “I was present for her subject’s physical and psychological screening just an hour ago.”
The red-headed scientist lowered her palms down to the sides of her own hips and then brought them out about 6 inches on either side. “Older, heavy-set Italian woman, right? Stern-looking?”
“Yeah, that’s her.” Quinn confirmed, approaching the table to have a seat with the two doctors.
Quinn continued, “The interview was going just fine. I was taking a bunch of notes, paying attention to the way Mrs. Romero was answering. I was listening to queues and stuff and looking at body language just like Dr. Walker said to. They had finished up the subject’s ‘Psych & Phys’ evaluation and Brandi dropped the subject off with us in the installation room about halfway through Mrs. Romero’s checkup. She was REALLY eager to get him back in her bottom but Dr. Walker held onto him; she said she needed to do a final look-over. He seemed super upset with her…like way more upset than a typical subject.”
“Why? Did she show him a picture of my sister?” Dr. Becotte asked, but the words took on the tone of a joke’s punchline rather than a sincere question.
Quinn tilted her head in confusion, “Your sister? I..umm…no, why would she?”
Dr. Stanhope smirked, knowing but not indicating to Quinn why Dr. Becotte would ask such a question.
“Don’t mind her, Quinn. Please continue.”
Quinn’s confused expression dropped as she put herself back into her own story.
“Anyway, Dr. Walker checked his temperature and stuff and wrapped up the interview with Mrs. Romero. I was just reading what was written in his file. Then, out of nowhere, Dr. Walker handed the subject to me and said that she had to go, and she told Mrs. Romero that it would be ME performing the reinstall! . I was caught off guard by it, but it’s not like it looks all that difficult to do…and I didn’t want to say no so I just took him from Dr. Walker and said okay.”
“How many installations have you observed?” Dr. Becotte asked.
“Three” Quinn replied, removing a salad with grilled chicken not nearly as fancy as Dr. Stanhope’s from a lunch bag not nearly as cute as Dr. Becotte’s. “...I’ve seen them done but never actually did an install myself.”
Dr. Stanhope and Dr. Becotte nodded their heads, “Oh okay, that’s a decent amount.”
Quinn replied, “Oh yeah, it's not like I didn’t think I could handle it, I just didn’t expect her to leave so abruptly…and I kinda figured she would be watching the first time I did one…ya know, to make sure I was doing it right.”
“I suppose she was confident in your abilities.” Dr. Stanhope replied.
“Sure, not surprising.” Dr. Becotte remarked.
“That means a lot coming from you two…” Quinn continued, “...but after Dr. Walker left, Mrs. Romero got up on the table. She lowered her jeans and underwear, laid face down……and oh…my…gawwwd.”
The two experienced doctors smirked…they were right in their suspicions…time to see just how right they were.
“Pretty bad?” Dr. Becotte asked with a smile.
Dr. Stanhope nodded to herself. She had to give the subject several wipedowns AFTER he’d already been wiped down and dropped off by Dr. Bexley before she could even perform her examination without having to breathe out of her mouth. Dr. Stanhope was grateful to have trouble picturing what the aroma of the source could have been like.
“Oh it was so terrible, I can’t even put it into words!” Quinn bemoaned dramatically, clutching her chest, and wrinkling up her cute button nose at the thought of the experience. “It was like…thick…in the air. Ughhh..” She shivered.
“I put on my gloves and she was just so ready to get him back in her butt and be done with it. Mrs. Romero reached back and pulled her cheeks apart…”
“Oh, you hadn’t even parted her buttocks yet?” Dr. Becotte asked with a laugh.
“No!” Quinn exclaimed emphatically, that cute button nose wrinkled up even harder, “…and that’s when it got a billion times worse! I almost gagged!”
Dr. Becotte declared, “Golly! You would think she’d take care of something like that prior to showing up.”
“I thought so, too!” Quinn commiserated. “I know that I’d want to make things a little more presentable before having so much attention back there.”
“Most women do.” Dr. Stanhope added.
“Right!” Quinn said. “That’s exactly what I thought. I felt soooooo bad for the subject. I even offered to wipe..ugh…the area down before reinstalling him…wanna know what she said?”
“What did she say?”
“She said ‘Don’t worry about it, hon. Just put him back. This is how he likes it.’”
It was Dr. Becotte’s turn to wrinkle her nose, “Oooo…..well, Adaptation and Acceptance is what we’re aiming for here, as unpleasant as it is to think about, I guess he’s just—”
“—Oh, he is NOT ‘A&A Passing’, at least not according to his Phys & Psych evaluation.” Dr. Stanhope interrupted.
Quinn nodded in vehement agreement.
“Oh wow, really? I would have expected SOME indication of A&A by now. He began rear-housing back in 2000…” Dr. Becotte remarked with intrigued.
“The year 2000? He’s been living in Mrs. Romero’s butt for five years? Oh my god, I was…jeez…in middle school when he started!” Quinn exclaimed in disbelief. “We’ve got subjects who reach Tier-3 of A&A within 2 years. I wonder why he’s taking so long.”
“It’s not the craziest thing in the world.” Dr. Stanhope said matter-of-factly. “It happens a lot more often than you’d think and it's something we’re looking at closely.”
“Anyway,” Quinn continued, “...he was basically still as resistant as a Tier-1….maybe even more resistant if that makes sense…and the way he was struggling in my fingers was definitely confirmation. I set him down on Mrs Romero’s lower back…just for a second so I could put on my gloves, and he tried running! It’s a good thing he’s as small as he is, he kept tumbling down the slope of her lower back. But anyway, I looked down between her cheeks. I don’t think I’d ever seen a rear that big, let alone a naked one that was being spread wide open. And god…it was all wet and dark…and deep! It was seriously so bad. There’s no way he wanted to be in there even for a second.”
“What’d you do?” Dr. Becotte asked.
“Well, I looked at him…the pale little thing. He’s a REALLY little one, too..maybe even smaller than the one they’re giving to that Becca girl. He was trying so hard to fight his way out of my fingertips. I tried one more time, for his sake, and told Mrs. Romero that it really wouldn’t be a problem to give just a little wipe-down.”
“And what’d she say?” Dr. Stanhope asked.
“She got this super stern mom-tone. Most Participants are…I dunno…a little nervous or self conscious about their butt cheeks being pulled apart in front of strangers?” Quinn commented with sass. “...but jeez…not Mrs. Romero! I remember exactly what she said…she said, ‘You girls have kept him away from his home for long enough today…at least two hours, right? Two hours in a single day?? Good lord, I can’t remember the last time he’s been out that long; it can’t be good for him.’ Then she pulled her cheeks apart even wider and told me to put him back in his home.
Dr. Becotte looked away from Quinn and over at Dr. Stanhope, “Is Mrs. Romero in the 99% Club?”
Dr. Stanhope shook her head, “No, she’s not. She’s pretty close though. Maybe 85% or so if I had to pick a number. We’ve tried to encourage her to increase…she’s starting to warm up to the idea but she still likes letting her sister and cousins stand in as alternates pretty often, which we’d prefer not to see in the 99% Club.” Carla looked back at Quinn, “Sorry Quinn, please continue. What did you do next?”
“Well, what could I do?” Quinn was almost defensive. “I was out of options. I looked down at the little thing. He seriously was just so small…each of her cheeks may as well have been like several football fields to him. I mouthed the words sorry, and then I started. I did the thing that Dr. Walker does where she firmly runs the subject up along the length of one of the butt cheeks first.
“Yup, tracing the cheek.” Dr. Becotte confirmed.
“Right, I knew that Dr. Walker does that to kinda gradually introduce skin-to-skin contact again. It really wasn’t helping him though. He was trying so hard to get away, I had to push him super hard into the fat of Mrs. Romero’s glute and there was just so much cushion for him to sink into that he…like…disappeared into it. And then I started sliding him in toward the center and I tucked him into her crack.”
“I really wouldn’t feel too bad for him, Quinn.” Dr. Becotte offered matter-of-factly.
“Dr. Becotte’s right.” Dr. Stanhope reinforced. “Mrs. Romero’s buttocks are VERY large and are surely intimidating to something so diminutive in size, but think about the positives.”
“Exactly…” Dr. Becotte agreed. “You have to consider the depth of the gluteal depth. You said yourself in fewer words how deep the subject could be confined within her rear.”
“And…” Dr. Stanhope added, “...Mrs. Romero’s buttocks are incredibly soft. Honestly, between Mrs. Romero’s buttocks is probably one of the safest places for something of his size. And let’s not forget her jiggle-factor score.”
Dr. Becotte smirked, “Oh! Is she the one who scored an 8.7?”
Dr. Stanhope smiled and nodded, “Indeed! His mind and reflexes are constantly engaged as they struggle to keep up and adapt to their erratic movement. There’s never a dull moment!”
“I guess I don’t feel as bad now then.” Quinn’s upper lip curled, “Ugh…but I didn’t even get to the really disgusting part yet. The absolute worst part. I was trying…like…so hard to reinstall him without touching Mrs. Romero’s skin with my fingers. I had him all the way in between her cheeks…I had him face down, lined up right against her asshole just like Mrs. Romero wanted…I had just let go of him and given him a slight little press…and then BANG!” Quinn lightly clapped her hands,
“Mrs. Romero let go of her big fat cheeks and they slapped in on my fingers.” the blonde intern exclaimed indignantly.
The doctors laughed like girls at a sleepover, Dr. Becotte spitting out a bit of her water.
Quinn’s tone heightened, modeling her dainty right hand and wiggling her fingers, “It freaking swallowed up my whole hand!”
The doctors’ roared louder.
“It's not funny.” Quinn huffed with her arms crossed over her chest but then, a cute smile started to creep on the young intern’s face. Amidst the jovial laughter, Quinn conceded, “Okay..maybe it’s a little funny..”
“I’d never pulled my hand up so fast in my life. You were right about the jiggle-factor, Dr. Stanhope, because Mrs. Romero’s cheeks were wobbling all over the place and I wanted to puke! On one hand, I felt so bad for the subject, but on the other hand I was so glad to see her jeans come back up cause at least the smell was trapped in there and starting to go away!”
“Not to marginalize the experience…” Dr. Becotte started, “...but you were wearing gloves at least, right?”
Quinn nodded, but there was more to be said. “Yeah but…ugh….I held it together until she walked out the door…and I looked down at how wet my fingers were…and I saw there was a tiny tear in the glove along my ring finger…and I just started gagging. That’s when I ran in here.”
Dr. Stanhope smiled, “Well, we’ve all got a story like that, Quinn. Don’t worry. The takeaway from this is that you were professional…you made a recommendation that you thought would benefit the subject and Participant, but the Participant declined.”
Dr. Becotte continued, “...and when Mrs. Romero declined, you accommodated HER preferences. Dr. Walker, Dr. Bexley, and anyone else here will tell you that’s the most important part.”
Dr. Stanhope nodded with a large smile, “You installed the subject per the Participant’s preferred depth and anal alignment…and then you sent them on their way. You were courteous, professional, and you handled it just fine.”
“Yeah, I guess I just never thought I’d have another woman’s ass sweat on my fingers. Life is full of surprises.” Quinn said.
Dr. Stanhope replied, “At least you had gloves on and it was only for a second or two, and the perspiration only contacted a small area of your skin!”
“Yeah”, Dr. Becotte added, “and if it's just us girls talking here, I don’t think her subject thought he’d be spending literal years of his life completely surrounded by it, and not with any kind of barrier protecting him either.”
“Not to mention living off of it.” Dr. Stanhope added.
Quinn wrinkled her nose, “Living off of it? Oh, Mrs. Romero is doing the vitamins, too?”
Dr. Stanhope replied, “Of course she is. Feeding the subject is so much easier that way.
Dr. Becotte nodded in agreement, “Especially for Participants on a year-by-year commitment term basis.”
“Well…it’s not just years.” Quinn informed.
“Huh?” Dr. Becotte inquired as Dr. Stanhope knowingly smiled, privy to some information Dr. Becotte did not yet have.
“You said ‘year-by-year commitment term basis’.” Quinn quoted, “At the end of the meeting, Dr. Walker told Mrs. Romero that she was eligible for lifetime commitment. She’d become eligible on her five-year anniversary of housing her subject but according to her paperwork, every time she comes in for her annual RR checkup, she just does another annual extension. Today, Mrs. Romero finally said okay.”
Dr. Becotte smiled, “She opted for the lifetime commitment? Oh, good for her! Glad to hear she met all the requirements and went for it.”
Quinn rubbed her chin, “Hmm…yeah come to think of it, that could have been why he was being extra-fidgety in my hands when I was putting him—er—reinstalling him. They had just brought him in right before Dr. Walker asked Mrs. Romero if she wanted to do the lifetime commitment. He was right there in the room in Dr. Walker’s hands, listening as Mrs. Romero agreed to house him in her rear for the rest of his life.”
Dr. Stanhope replied matter-of-factly, “That’s not surprising. Dr. Walker usually likes to have the subject present for those decisions when possible.”
Dr. Stanhope noticed confusion on Dr. Becotte’s and Quinn’s faces at her statement and she smirked, realizing how ridiculous it sounded. She clarified, “Not to weigh in on the decision-making process, obviously. Just to document their reactions.”
Judging from the change in their expressions, that made a lot more sense to Dr. Becotte and Quinn.
Quinn broke the brief silence, “I did fine on the installations where I observed, just so you know. For one of the installations I observed, Dr. Walker even had me do the ‘first-installation glute and anal scrubdown’ and I had no issues at all with that.”
Dr. Stanhope smirked, “Sure, Quinn. And I’m sure you’ll do great on the installations you perform in the future. The way you described this one with Mrs. Romero….it was definitely an outlier. Probably best for an RR Veteran like Dr. Becotte or myself, but you did great and I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks, Dr. Stanhope!” a red-cheeked Quinn beamed with a smile. She glanced over at the television.
“Oh! They installed the new monitors. That’s a Subject Experience Monitor, right?” Quinn asked.
Dr. Stanhope replied, Yes, that’s right.”
Quinn’s head tilted in curiosity, her eyes scanning the live monitoring feed of subject-284c.
“What do all those spikes in the hot pink graph mean? There are dozens of them.” Quinn asked.
Dr. Stanhope and Dr. Becotte looked at each other, a knowing grin on each of their faces.
~