He did not flinch. Of course she is. Without turning around, he put one hand in his pocket. "And…our other project, Doctor?"
"He's making progress." She consulted her tablet computer and pressed her lips together. "It's a far easier task when the subject is willing."
"Yes. Yes, it is." But is he? It was hard to know, even with Samaritan's most complex algorithms, what that one was thinking. "Show me."
The doctor stepped closer until she was by his side. Handing him the tablet, she stood looking over his shoulder, as though she expected to see something different because he was holding the tablet.
He pressed the button, giving him a view of a hospital room not unlike Ms. Shaw's. A technician hovered over a prone male figure in the bed, adjusting the equipment which kept his "patient" alive. As he moved away, the man's form was revealed, becoming clearer with the movement of two fingers across the screen to activate the zoom feature. His forehead was punctuated by electrodes connected to a main unit.
The "patient"'s condition was not what one would call serene. Indeed, every muscle in his body was tensed; he appeared to be pretending unconsciousness, as though at any moment he would leap out of bed in a fit of fury. Something to behold, I imagine. For our purposes, he must not. At least not today. Or here…
"What are your plans to move forward, sir?" The doctor's voice barely registered in the dim stillness of the dark room.
He turned slightly to face her. "You will know when I know." When It says so. "That will be all."
She exited wordlessly, leaving him still clutching the tablet. His lips curved into a slight smile as he regarded their perfect specimen. "There is still so much I don't know about him. Are you ever going to tell me where you found him, for instance?"
I HAVE NOT DECIDED YET.
He chuckled. "Really? Is it that dangerous a secret?"
YES. YOU ARE NOT READY NOW. YOU MAY NEVER BE.
He cocked his head to one side. "Very well then. You must have a plan."
INDEED. FOR NOW, KNOW HE IS OF "ELSEWHERE" AND LEAVE IT AT THAT. YOU WILL SEE. ALL WILL SEE.
He crossed the room and sat down in a chair, placing the tablet on a desk in front of him. As he turned to face a desktop computer, the tablet's camera view zoomed out automatically. A large tubular encasement, about the size of a coffin, sat in the corner of the "patient"'s room, darkened by shadows. Though deactivated, condensation collected on a small window in the upper portion of the casing.
A slight movement would have drawn his attention to the "patient"'s bed if he had still been watching. Fingers closed tightly around a handful of bedsheet. Eyes popped open with a sharp gasp as he sat up in bed, breathing rapidly. He whipped his head around from side to side, before startling at a sharp ping.
Looking in the direction of the sound, the "patient" spied the computer monitor that displayed his vital signs. The readouts shrunk and moved to the far right corner of the screen, the remaining section blank, save for a red cursor that flickered in and out.
The "patient" raked a hand through his dark hair, damp from sleep. "Where-"
JUST HERE. PERHAPS YOU SHOULD HAVE ASKED 'WHEN'.
GOOD MORNING, KHAN. WELCOME TO MY REALITY.