Monthly Drawing 36: Status Updates (1/7, 2/7, 3/7) (Patreon)

Dr. Reginald P. Johnson, PhD, looked up from his ready desk when the door opened. Two amazonian Physician Special Assistants came in with a small, balding man of middle age. Dr. Johnson stood and waited for them to approach the desk.

The PSAs he knew well. They were quite beautiful in a very dangerous way, rather like well-made swords. Becca and Bonnie (all PSAs had to change their legal names to ones that started with B) walked on either side with their hands on the upper arms of their charge. It was a gentle touch but, Dr. Jonson knew that between their augmented physiques and their military training, it could go from gentle to murderous in an instant. 

They stopped in front of his desk, hands still on the man’s arms. Dr. Johnson regarded the man, reconciling what he knew from the dossier with what he saw before him. In his experience, what you saw was what you got. 

The man was thirty-four, five-foot-seven and balding with a large nose and weak chin. He was pale and skinny but, then nearly all of them were, especially from the industrial districts. Johnson nodded to Becca. She nodded back but, added a wink as she turned. Johnson smiled; he would be busy later tonight.

He reached down and brought up the tablet with the dossier. He pretended to read it for a moment then lifted his head and gave the man his most sincere smile.

“Carter Alan Fitzroy, I presume?”

“That’s me, sir.” The man said in a voice that, while not listless, was not in the least rebellious.

“Thank you so much for… volunteering” Johnson said as he ramped up his smile. They called it ‘volunteering’ and it sort of was. They would choose a subject based on certain criteria and then they would send a communication saying they’d been chosen for a new position. Some districts were harder to ‘recruit’ from as they get, if not wise, the suspicious. But, there were always volunteers.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Carter smiled a bit cockily, “I always do my duty, sir.”

“I’ll wager you do.” Now to see if he has any suspicions, Johnson thought, “So, do you know what your new duties will entail?”

“No, sir. Just that it’d be a much cushier gig than my current one, sir. I’m a loader at New Manchester spaceport, sir.”

“Yes, I know, Carter,” Idiot prole, Johnson thought,” It’s all right here.“

Johnson noticed that Carter had the audacity to look proud for a moment, as though it was a matter of pride to have his information on the tablet.

“Anyway,” Johnson continued, hoping to keep his smile under control and the irony from his voice,” I can certainly guarantee that your new… gig as you say, will be so cushy you will believe you’re covered in pillows!”

“Really, sir? Thank you, sir!” Carter smiled a hopeful smile.

“Now, Carter, step back a bit for me, would you? Very good.” Johnson opened his desk drawer, pulled out the object within and secreted hit behind his back. Still smiling he walked up to Carter.

“Now, Carter, we have to go through a procedure before you can enter your new position. Your new… boss has been quite specific about that.”

“All right, sir.” Carter shrugged

Oh, they were quite specific, thought Johnson. He’d worked for two weeks on this one. They had requested a hybrid pet and hybrids were something that Johnson loved doing. Such a challenge of concept and design! Not just the physical design, either; the mental adaptations were also a wonderful challenge. In truth, you couldn’t completely change a person’s mind, not overnight, at least. However there was much that a change in brain chemistry could do to reduce aggression and cognition as well as increase suggestibility and submission.

They had also demanded a match pair. They were quite adamant about that. However, they should be happy they're getting one, even for the price they were paying. Subjects don't grow on trees.

“Well, if you’re ready, I’m ready!” With a real smile, Dr. Johnson brought the object from behind his back.

“W-what’s that, sir?” Carter asked, his body language stayed submissive but, his voice shook a little.

“Oh, nothing,” Johnson smiled,”Just a hypo spray to begin the cleansing procedure, I guarantee it won’t hurt a bit!”

Johnson saw Carter relax. It was the truth; the procedure was mostly painless, even pleasurable. They’d found that if the subject’s stress hormones were not elevated, the mental changes would take better. He raised the hypo-gun.

“Here we go, Carter, your new life begins now!”