This chapter is dedicated to Jay. Thank you for your support!
Maybe sleeping pills did some good, because I wasn't tired when I woke in the morning, and I wasn't panicking. I wasn't feeling sick either; which had to be a consequence of stopping drinking earlier in the evening. I went downstairs for breakfast when Walt knocked on my door, but I didn't say much. Mum had put out a bagel and a bowl of muesli for me. It seemed like Mum and Dad were both skipping work today, probably because they were worried about what might happen to me. That sounded like they really cared, but it was still hard to believe it. I barely spoke as I ate, and then returned to my room to change my diaper and put on presentable clothes. I felt a little numb, like I had no emotions coming up to the big day. There was still likely to be something unexpected, but I felt I'd done everything I could.
I hadn't left everything to chance, though. I didn't want to be helpless in front of Becker. I had one precaution; a multi-tool with a belt clip, nestling in the small of my back where a loose cardigan would hide it but still allow access. The thing had been a birthday present from Walt a couple of years ago, and I thought he'd been hoping that he could keep it when I realised that I had no use for something like that. In the months after I first got it, it had been rare for me to use anything except the bottle opener; though I would occasionally use one of the little screwdrivers to pry out a piece of gravel that had gotten stuck in the bottom of my shoe, or to free up my locker door when it became stuck. Elspeth had probably used it more than I had, when she used to come to school on a bike that needed regular maintenance, but the little tool had never been passed on. I made a mental note to get Walt one of his own if it proved useful today.
I went down to the lounge, and found Mum and Dad already waiting for me. Walt was there too; he said "Good luck," and all I could do was force a smile. Somehow I wasn't scared now; I just didn't feel anything. Dad lifted out the plastic handcuffs again, and I obediently put my hands together behind my back. A deep breath, and I was walking to the car.
"Do you want us to come in with you?" Mum asked, as I climbed into the front of the car.
"I can do this," I said, pushing aside a moment of nerves. "Just... show me the card when he gives it to you, right? I want to know what's in the syringe. And it's not like I really have a choice. I don't want to make Walt late for school."
"Do you trust your father now?" Mum asked, and I looked up. He couldn't meet my eyes this time.
"I think so," I said. Because even after everything, he had only done what he thought was best for me. I couldn't really blame him for lashing out when everything fell apart. "I don't want to ask my friends, don't want a fuss like the other day. I'd rather... face this like an adult, I guess."
We barely spoke all the way to the Mercer Center. Mum and Walt were in the back of the car; they wanted to see that I was okay. But I was sure that once we got to the pharmacy, one of them would be taking him to school. We would be cutting it close already.
"Mister Peen," Becker said with a nod; coming up as soon as we stepped out of the car. His face was a little bruised; but I could see how much difference the best ointments had made. "I thought it would be better to speak on the way to the shop. I realise that Lorna will already be late for school, and would not like to exacerbate the problem."
"What do we need to talk about?" Mum growled; but Becker didn't answer until Dad repeated the question. The more I saw of him, the more I hated him. He kept on showing that he wasn't just out to hurt me because I'd hurt his son, but that he was a terrible person in general.
"Following the... events on our last visit, I will be exercising the option to apply a proportional punishment for the destruction of property. There is another student at her school whose dose will have to wait until next week because of those broken sample vials. In order to preserve my business, I will insist on the application of an intensity booster to the second dose; whichever it turns out to be. Now, I realise that you did your best to convince her to behave, so I won't be charging for this booster. But I must insist that it is appropriate. If I have to take her to court over this, I assure you the punishment would be worse."
"Than a booster? Couldn't she just pay the damages?"
"No. I will insist on corrective punishment. And when it comes to the equipment issued by the HumiliX corporation, I do have that right. The difference is that an intensity booster at a later date would apply to both doses equally; and a second booster is often more intense than the first. I'm offering this as a... slight compromise. It means that rather than having the existing dose at the second intensified level and the new one at the first, both will rest at a grade slightly above the first level of intensification. Now, this will also delay the initialisation of the second dose, meaning that it could well be this time tomorrow before she starts to feel the effects of her punishment again. But I believe that is reasonable in the circumstances."
"Sounds reasonable," Dad said, but it was clear that he didn't trust Becker this time. "What else could it change?"
"It may also impair the mental effects of the first dose for two to three weeks," he said. "But I'm not sure that is entirely a negative. As hard as it is to believe, it seems like she is developing an even more problematic attitude now. So it may be beneficial to let her mind settle a little, even if this means that the dose modifier is less able to suppress previous tendencies."
Mum glanced across at me, and I shrugged. I had no idea how that would turn out; but extending the period when I was free from the drug's influence had to be useful. And Becker probably meant it about dragging them to court just to cause more stress; I didn't want to delay this if I could avoid it.
"That sounds acceptable," Dad said, and I wondered if he'd actually thought about my response, or just made the decision on his own again. Still, agreeing now was probably the best way to get this over with quickly. "So, it's just one booster?"
"One booster. Within ten minutes of the new dose, if you want it to interrupt and merge with the initialisation of the new dose. Now, as we mentioned previously, there may be some tendency to resist further doses. It's not uncommon for the induced behavioural patterns to fight against the second dose. I've heard from pharmacists who have used this balancing technique before to fine-tune the dose, and found that the subject will often act irrationally, either physically fighting or even pretending that the dose has already taken effect in order to avoid the administration of the drug. This irrational period doesn't last long, but I hope it wouldn't be a problem. If necessary, I can bring in a couple of assistants to help restrain her while I administer the booster, but that will take more time. And, of course, if I am administering the dose it would show on my records, so I would be forced to bill you the full rate for both the booster itself and my assistants."
"I can do it," Dad said. That sounded better to me as well; Becker would give him the booster, and he would just pretend to have administered it. By the time Becker found out any different, he would already be in court for his behaviour with Serena. And my phone was recording in my pocket, so anything else he said today could be added to the mountain of evidence against him.
Becker handed over the injector in its little box, and reminded Dad three times that he would need to do it as soon as we got back to the car; and that I would probably do everything in my power to stop him. Well, that was no surprise. But if I didn't know how manipulative Becker could be, that spiel would actually have been quite persuasive.
Then we reached the elevator, and there were other people getting in. I glanced back at Mum and shrugged. It wasn't like her presence would make much difference. So me, Dad, and Becker stepped into the elevator, whose doors immediately closed as the computer recognised it was full, and Mum took Walt away with a sad wave and another wish of good luck.
One of the other guys in the elevator was Liam; the guy in the coffee kiosk. And he spoke before the doors opened; I guess it wasn't that easy to hide the fact that I was in cuffs.
"You're getting another one of those shots?"
"Yeah. But not for so long this time. I think I can cope with it." I wasn't really that confident; and I wasn't as cheerful as I tried to sound, but I was sure that it would drive Becker up the wall thinking that he wasn't getting to me. All the more chance of him saying something stupid on my recording.
"Well, you got our sympathy. I'll offer you a milkshake to steady your nerves. We've just got a new millionaire special, I'm sure you'll love it, and–"
"Lorna, come on!" Dad snapped, and I turned to see that Becker had already strode away to open up his shop. I quickly apologised to Liam, said I'd see him later, and let Dad drag me away. Maybe that milkshake would be just as good for helping me to calm down after this appointment.
"Right," Becker said with a forced grin as soon as we walked into the shop. "Lorna Peen. I've got you signed in for a refresh of her Punishment Pill. Repeating the original Floodgate dose, and adding a second. And an intensity booster, of course."
"That's right," Dad said, and stepped forward to sign the form in Becker's hands. It was done too quickly for me to pay much attention, but it did look like the consent forms covered exactly what he had said. I noticed that there was no place for me to sign this time; when I agreed to the first dose, I had effectively waived my rights to be treated as an independent adult for as long as it lasted.
"Now, I do have to warn you that there may be some issues with using a booster after a refresher dose," Becker explained. "Depending on her body's absorption profile, the booster may result in a longer delay before the dose takes effect. However, even if the effect isn't visible, you should avoid stacking boosters. Once it has been administered – even if there is an apparent issue due to resistance – you should not consider giving either variety of booster for a minimum of twenty-four hours, or until the dose has fully taken effect if that takes longer. I am required to remind you that it can be especially dangerous to give a second booster within an hour of the first. And in my professional opinion, you should wait for at least forty-eight hours before giving either an intensity, uptake, or duration booster. The legal minimum is twenty-four hours, but I strongly recommend double that for the sake of safety."
"I understand that," Dad barked, but he seemed to understand that this was a warning that the pharmacist was required to give by law. The cameras over the counter were probably keeping a record to make sure that he remembered to say it. "Let's just get this over with."
"As you wish. Would you like to wait here while I deliver the dose? Following recent events, it will be necessary to lock the treatment room door, and unfortunately that means that I cannot legally allow anyone except the patient in there."
Dad grunted in frustration. Did he want to watch me suffer, or was he wanting to make sure that Becker didn't pull a fast one? I couldn't tell. And then Becker handed over three dose cards; the little plastic things that we'd had to look over to choose one for Serena. This time they were orange, blue, and beige. Becker quoted the prices as well; we could have one selected at random, added on to my existing dose. Or we could pay extra to choose one from the top three. The markup for choosing a punishment was about what I expected someone my age might typically pay for their first car when they wanted independence. Dad listened, and shook his head.
"Just let me know the machine's choice," he said. "I'll wait for you at that donut place, right Lorna? Come get me when you're ready."
I whimpered when he glanced at the card and then showed it to me. It said 'Sux2B', and it was going to give me the instinct to suck my thumb when I wasn't paying attention. As if wetting my pants in class didn't already make everyone think I was a baby. Still; it wouldn't be as much hassle as Marcie's speech impediment. And I told myself that it would only be for three weeks at most. I stood up with a little effort, and followed Becker into the back room. This was it; the moment I'd been dreading for the last week. And when he gripped my upper arm politely but firmly, I knew there really was no turning back.