Weyland Industries Mental Rehabilitation Center
Facility A13
Wessinger’s Private Quarters
Dr. Wessinger stands opposite a large viewport—a nearly spent narcostick gripped between two fingers. A chime sounds and the computer stoically announces her visitor.
“You have a visitor, Dr. Wessinger,” the computer intones. “It is Dr. Edward Buederson. Should I let him in?”
Dr. Wessinger releases a large poof of smoke and licks her thin lips.
“Why not, Sawyer?” Dr. Wessinger replies, speaking to her personal AI assistant. “Let him in.”
Adjusting the front of her robe, Dr. Wessinger crosses to the glass table at the center of her dining room. She is facing the doors when they slide open, allowing Dr. Buederson admittance to her living space. Dr. Buederson observes his colleague’s state of near undress with discomfort. He looks back over one shoulder as the doors close. Dr. Wessinger motions for him to join her at the table.
“Come now, Edward,” Wessinger calls to him. “Don’t be shy. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before. Come share a drink with me.”
Edward Buederson approaches the table at a slow gait. Dr. Wessinger sits down on the sofa and reaches across the table for her glass of red wine. She sips casually and glances over the rim at the timid Dr. Buederson. Edward has still made no move to join her on the couch.
“Well. I can see something is bothering you, Edward,” Dr. Wessinger says impatiently. “Go ahead and spit it out!”
Dr. Buederson takes a moment to compose himself. It takes quite a bit of effort. Nevertheless, some of his anger and frustration manages to seep through.
“When you asked me to join you on this project…You said nothing about rape and torture!” Dr. Buederson exclaims through clenched teeth. “I just came from visiting Dr. Boyd…In her cell. That woman’s body has more scars on it than an Old Earth P.O.W.! Just what the hell kind of project are you running here, Elmira?!? I did not sanction my machine to be used in such a way! You were to record her dreams and analyze them. Nothing more!”
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“Oh. Come off it, Edward! Always acting the part of a Boys Scout. No wonder you’re still a lousy dream specialist. Most of us have moved on to reality.” Dr. Wessinger retorts.
She swishes the wine in her glass and takes a sip, pursing her lips unattractively.
“You and I work for the same company,” Elmira says.
She fumbles in her robe pocket for another narcostick. Leaving the narcostick unlit, Dr. Wessinger squeezes it between two fingers of her hand. She uses this same hand to point at Dr. Buederson.
“Weyland wants results. And, so do I! The doctor knows something she’s not letting on about,” Elmira insists. “And I have a feeling the company may have suspicions as to what that something is. That’s why they’re coming down so hard on us. You’re angry because I didn’t tell you what we were up to with your little machine? Well, get over it! I lied. So what? When I’m finished with the good doctor…She will tell me what I want to know.”
“Last time I checked, Elmira…” Dr. Buederson stammers. “Weyland Industries does not condone torture and rape. It goes against the very principles of—.”
“Will you just shut up, Edward!?!” Dr. Wessinger yells. “God! And stop with the Prince Valiant routine. Weyland Industries doesn’t condone torture? Have you been paying any attention to a word I’ve said? Who do you think gave me the authorization? The green light? The go-ahead? Are you really that naïve, Edward?”
Dr. Buederson’s mouth clamps shut and he averts his eyes. He stares out of the same viewport where Dr. Wessinger had stood only minutes before. His voice becomes soft and emotionless.
“There will be no more assaults. No more torture. Or, I will take my machine and leave the station,” Dr. Buederson says defiantly.
Dr. Buederson refuses to even look at Dr. Wessinger. He bites on his lower lip to keep from going off on his past lover. However, Dr. Wessinger is in rare spirits. She grins and leans back against the plush cushions of the sofa. She lifts her legs up onto the edge of the chair in a suggestive manner.
“I’ll just get my contacts at the highest levels to give it back to me!” Elmira says.
Dr. Buederson scrunches his face and whirls in the direction of the door. Elmira’s voice halts him halfway there.
“Oh…And Edward—” Elmira says.
Dr. Buederson glances over one shoulder. The cruel smirk on Dr. Wessinger’s face chills him to the very core of his being. Only a true monster could look more hideous than the doctor appears in that moment.
“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out!” Elmira mocks tastelessly.
When the doors slide open, Dr. Edward Buederson wastes no time exiting through them.