The doctor smoothed out her beige lab coat and checked her hair with her hands.  She realized that she was procrastinating, trying to stretch out the moments before she had to do her evaluation.  She'd done this type of thing a hundred times, was certified with the Imperial University as a clinical psychologist and had given seminars across the sector on treating patients with brain damage induced psychoses.  But still she felt a head-to-toe nervousness she couldn't recall since her first years practicing.

With reluctant hands she grabbed her palette and walked out of her observation station into the hall.  Her destination was only one door down. 

Out of habit her hand rose up to tap her security code into the door's keypad, but - as she did almost every day - she only then remembered that it wasn't necessary.  Her right hand went into the deep pocket on the side of her coat and came out with a small key.  She used this to undo the two manually-operated deadbolts which had been installed on the door.  The key returned to her pocket and she pulled open the door.

Her subject was asleep, but waking.  She took the time to get situated at the small table in the room, turning the chairs to face each other.  She sat down and hooked her thumb through her palette, making some opening notations in a small window and checking her schedule for the day to see if she could have an early lunch.  She'd probably need a drink after this.

The patient, Teagan Ryleigh, stirred under her sheets and finally blinked herself into awareness.  There was no urgency about her, no hurry to start her day, but of course there wouldn't be.  Minutes passed as she stared at the ceiling of her room, and the she turned her head to the left and noticed that she had a visitor.

Dull brown eyes took in the doctor, blinking at approximately five second intervals, but no smile or welcoming gesture evidenced itself.  Many moments passed as the two regarded each other.

"Good morning, Teagan," the doctor greeted with a friendly smile.  "How do you feel this morning?"

Teagan balled her hands into fists and released them two times, before sitting up right on the bed. 

When she spoke her voice was even and absent of inflection.  "Feel is both a verb and a noun, thirteen possible variations of verb and six variations of noun. Four idioms. Four verb phrases."  Her eyes blinked a couple more times before she continued.  "I feel warm.  I feel soft.  I feel no sensation. I am capable to perceive by touch. I am conscious of things.  I am not emotionally effected or compramised. I have no general or thorough convictions of, such as guilt. I have no perceived state of mind as in happy or sad. I possess some native ability or acquired sensitivity, such as what is right."

Here she stopped and looked at the doctor with her emotionless brown eyed gaze.  "Have I answered your question?  Would you like for me to continue?  There are slang, idiom and common phrases that might more accurately give answer to your query?"

"Not really," the doctor confided, the friendly smile and tone never wavering.  "My question was simply a query into your self-identified subjective state of well-being.  Forget dictionary definitions.  How do you feel?"

"My being feels healthy, absent and empty in some regards, but in other regards there is so much information to process that I am unable to stop.  I have desisted in the recommended reading until there is some silence again.  The constant hum of data is distracting and makes my head feel too small."  Teagan's tone was still flat but her lips turned up to mimic Dr. Geeste's smile.  "Is that a better response?"

"Yes, that's much better," the doctor replied.  She jotted a few quick notations on her palette, the thumb hooked through the small hole flexed twice.  Then she asked, "Are you hungry?  Thirsty?  Would you like some coffee or breakfast?" 

It took a moment before Teagan replied.  "Yes.  I would like some breakfast."

"That's great," the doctor encouraged.  "What are you in the mood for?"

"A state of mind or emotion. A pervading impression.  An observation of...  A disposition or inclination."  Teagan stopped abruptly in her processing, and the effected smile that had fallen off of her face returned. "I am in a mood for anything that can be dipped in syrup.  That feels right."
 
"Okay," the doctor replied.  She made a quick request for an order of buckwheat strips and syrup on her palette.  "That should be here in a minute.  While we wait, I'd like to run through some more questions with you, like we did yesterday.  Is that okay?"

"Yes."  Teagan replied with the same forced smile.

The doctor seemed prepared to start but she paused and sighed.  "Teagan, you don't have to smile if you don't want to.  Just act natural.  This isn't a test and there isn't any wrong or right way to answer.  Okay?"

She seemed to consider that for a moment, and the doctor could almost hear her unarticulated dissection of the words 'have' and 'want'.  Then the smile fell off of her face.  "Okay."

The doctor fished in her lab coat pocket for a small jewelry box-sized object which she placed on the table.  With a tap of her finger it expanded upward to reveal an articulated arm with a sensor at its tip.  She turned it to face Teagan and then returned her attention to her palette.  A few ticks with her stylus activated the sensor which locked onto Teagan's eyes and began recording her iris dilation, heart rate, eyelid flutter, respiration, and so on.

"Okay...you're on the beach," the doctor started.  "A man jogs by wearing a very small bathing suit.  He's young, fit, and very handsome.  As he passes you he smiles.  What do you do?"

"I watch him pass.  I return his smile."  Teagan's tone was even and monotonous, but spoken with care.  It was obvious that she was giving her answer consideration.

"Just relax and try to answer as quickly as possible.  The man on the beach stops and removes his bathing suit, revealing female genetalia."

"I process the inconsistency."  Teagan said quickly but without emotion.

The doctor ticked a notation.  "You're walking in the woods and you come across a small animal stuck in a snare trap.  It's frightened and struggling but it can't escape on its own."

"If it is hurt, I kill it.  If it is frightened, and I can do so without injuring myself, I release it.  If the risk is too great, I leave it."  Her reply came slower this time, and her head ticked to the right as she processed her response.

More notes.  "A wasp is crawling along your arm..."

"I watch it.  I feel it."  The response was quick this time and certain.

"You're at a restaurant.  The waiter brings you a plate of boiled hamsters."

There was a moments pause.  "Inform them of the mistake."

"But that's what you ordered."

Teagan blinked her eyes a couple of times as she processed this.  "That wasn't included in the information."

"Nevertheless, the waiter insists that you ordered the dish."

"I hand him back the dish and reiterate the mistake." Teagan said quickly once Dr. Geeste clarified.

The doctor made another note and then changed her tack.  "Okay, in single words, describe only the good thoughts that come to you about your father."

A slight nod of Teagan's head and a brief spark in her empty brown eyes, preempted her reply. "Tall. Secure. Warm. Provider. Father. Handsome. Laughter. Genuine. Pleasant smell of cologne."

"That's four words."

Another few blinks, which by now the doctor had discovered was the closest she could come to confusing her patient, and Teagan replied again.  "You said thoughts.  Single words.  There were four single words, one word wasn't sufficient."

"Let's move on," the doctor replied.  "When was the lat time you witnessed your mother having sexual intercourse with a quadruped?"

"Never." Teagan replied evenly.

A pregnant pause settled between the two women as the doctor's hand paused in making another note.  The last question usually got at least a momentary flash of surprise from the subject.  Not so here. 

A small flashing indicator lit up on her palette display.  Apparently her minders had seen enough.

"Let's take a break," the doctor said.  "I'll go and get your breakfast squared away."

When she returned to the room next door, the one with the see-through wall into Teagan's quarters, the principals of Project Silverfish had gathered and were waiting.

"Good morning, Doctor." 

Director Sowmya Gopalsalmy was a sharp-eyed officer from Intelligence Branch and she owned the project, officially making her top dog.  She was seated while the others stood.  There was Director Adler Beyreuth from Personnel Branch, Teagan's current CO, looking not at all well.  There was Dr. Geeste's boss, Dr. Randall Bostonne, a senior researcher who administered this facility for the Research and Development Branch, tall and narrow of face with his white-tinged golden hair in disarray, looking his usual detatched self.  Then there was the detestable Lieutenant Roderick Decker from Security Branch, a grizzled transfer from the Imperial Marines often referred to in closely guarded company as "the cleaner" due to his knack for cleaning up the ISS's dirtiest messes. 

"How is our patient today, Dr. Geeste?" Bostonne asked politely.

The doctor sighed.  She knew this moment was near but she hadn't expected it today. 

"She's the same.  Physically she's in optimal condition.  Her body has accepted the new implants with no signs of pain or rejection well after the typical period for such to occur.  Mentally...there's been no change since my last report.  Her cognitive metrics are actually slightly higher than her pre-op baselines and she can utilize whatever programming we download with a loss of data integrity that's statisticaly insignificant.  But..."

Geeste looked through the wall at Teagan as the woman sat there, staring at nothing, patiently waiting for her breakfast.  This felt like a betrayal despite being factual.

"Schizophrenia, expressed as a severe affective flattening.  Her responses to the Voight-Kampf examination were so far below baseline as to be practically nonexistent.  There's emotion there but it's as though the link between it and her expressive self has been severed or is blocked somehow depite the lack of any meta-implantia injury to either the amygdala or the prefrontal cortex."

"Is there any reason to believe at this point that her condition will improve, doctor?"  Director Gopalsalmy's eyes were relaxed, but the question was an obvious bookend.  Dr. Geeste wanted badly to say yes.

"No.  None."

"Is she dangerous?"  The lieutenant's blunt question was obvious in his train of thought's direction, but it focused the room in an ominous way.

"Absolutely not," Geeste replied quickly.  "The woman is nearly catatonic.  Nothing noted during post-op observation points towards---"

"We can never say never," Dr. Bostonne interrupted, to Geeste's great annoyance.  "My colleague is correct in that we don't have any data to support any association of violent behavior at this time, but as with all schizophrenics there's the risk of associative drift.  She may be fine today, but she'll require continued observation, quite likely for the rest of her life."

"Her file indicates she was a pain in the ass before the treatment."  Decker nearly spit as he weighed Teagan through the glass like a steak in a meat market cabinet.  "Probably better to put her out of her misery."

"What about the hardware?" Gopalsalmy asked quickly and with a stern tone that admonished the Lieutenant's statement.

Bostonne shrugged.  "Operating perfectly.  We were able to test out all the functionality and everything is performing well within expected tolerance ranges."  He looked at Teagan through the wall.  "It's a shame, really.  Ms. Ryleigh was the best candidate we've had yet and the first to fully integrate the bioware into her body.  So much promise."

"I appreciate that, doctor, but this project is for naught without a fully functional subject at the end."  Gopalsalmy thought for a few moments and then said, "Okay, retrieve the bioware and start preparing your final reports.  I'll want them by the end of the week."

"Wait a minute."  Adler had been silent up until now, quietly soaking in the deep well of guilty depression he'd fallen into since Teagan had come out of her post-implant surgery as an emotonless zombie.

"What about Teagan?  What happens to her?"

Everybody stopped.  Gopalsalmy arched an eyebrow at him.

Bostonne answered, "Well, assuming she survives the extraction of the bioware, she'll be placed into medical care until she's recovered."

Adler didn't like the sound of that.  "And what are her chances of survival?" he asked the doctors pointedly.

Bostonne looked like a caged animal, so Geeste spoke up.  "Only twenty-five percent of such extractions end with the subject still alive.  Of those that do survive..."  She sighed and looked Adler in his eyes.  "I'm sorry."

"Wait..." the Personnel Director looked lost and angry.  "No...no way.  We can't just do that."  He turned to Bostonne and raised his voice to a yell.  "You can't!"

"Director!"  Gopalsalmy was a foot shorter than Beyreuth but her voice had a sharp edge and a commanding tone.  "Let me remind you that you are here as a courtesy.  The technology in Teagan Ryleigh's head represents a rather significant investment on the part of the Imperium.  And as much as I might despair the loss, we must recover that bioware."

"But...but..."  Adler looked like he was drowning, desperate for a life raft.  "Isn't there something we can do?  Anything?  More tests?"

"Nothing at this point indicates that her condition will ever improve," reiterated Bostonne, who had regained his footing.  "Once we find another subject--"

"How long?" Adler interrupted.

"What?"

"How long until you find another subject?"

"I don't know," the doctor responded angrily.  "It could take months, maybe years--"

"And until then there's no imperative reason to remove the impants, yes?"

Bostonne wasn't sure, but Geeste saw where the Director was going and jumped in to help.

"That's true, until we find another candidate there's no reason why the bioware can't stay implanted in Teagan.  In fact, the extra time could be used to help us better understand the biochemical and neurological factors as to how she's managed to integrate it so well while others have experienced such varied levels of rejection."

Director Gopalsalmy seemed intrigued, but asked Bostonne, "Doctor?"

The elder scientist considered it.  He didn't like being contradicted or berated by this Personnel Branch drone, but Geeste's conclusions were sound and he had made a life out of accepting the facts, whatever they may be.

"Yes," he replied tentatively.  "Dr. Geeste makes a good point.  A more detailed and deeper study of the physiological aspect of the implantation might provide benefits with the next subject."

"Director, I cannot object strongly enough with that course of action," Lieutenent Decker emphasized, his thick mustache twitching with a need to end this humoring of the eggheads.  "We're talking about risking the entire project investment on a proven schizo who might decide to jump into a reactor core to talk to the voices in her head, or who might be abducted by enemies of the Imperium who want the technology.  We should make the extraction and retire the subject.  It's the safe play."

Adler was enraged at the officer's casual dismissal of Teagan's life.  "She's one of us, you arrogant asshole!"

Decker took a step towards Adler with closed fists and a gleam of contemplated murder in his eye.

"Enough!" Gopalsalmy sighed with impatience at having to cool them down.  Situations like this were how she had risen to her rank.  She could weigh an issue, look at it from all sides, and apply good judgement without letting extraneous factors influence her razor-cut decision process.  The diminutive woman's face was a mask of concentration. 

"Loathe as I am to admit it, the lieutenant has a very valid point."

The room drew silent as Gopalsalmy considered her options.  It was her call.  The financial investment in the bioware alone was staggering.  She looked through the glass.  Teagan still hadn't moved.  One of us.

She turned to Adler.  "She's officially off Exploration Branch effective immediately.  I want her at a desk, or something similar.  You put her some place quiet, do you understand?"

Adler looked like he'd just given birth, his relief a physical thing he wore like a shroud.  "Yes.  I'll take care of it.  Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet."  Gopalsalmy turned to Lieutenant Decker.  "You pick one asset, I don't care who, but that person sticks to her like a bad reputation.  She doesn't cross the street without your asset writing a report.  If you think for a moment that there's a credible threat..."  She raised both eyebrows and pointed up at the man's chest.  "A credible threat, you take her down and bag her up for immediate bioware extraction.  Are we clear."

"Crystal."  Decker looked neither pleased nor displeased as was his way.  But the man stank of suppressed discontent.

"Doctors, consider this an extension of the program outside this lab.  I want everything measured, analyzed, and documented, and I mean everything.  You've got a subject in an active external environment and I want to get as much out of it for this project that I can.  Work with Adler and Decker to come up with a basic operating software package for her and then I want your input on her assignment.  Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, of course," Bostonne answered.

"Okay."  Director Gopalsalmy moved to the transparent wall.  Teagan's breakfast had been brought in and she was studying a small dewar of syrup like it was an abberation.

"We'll see."