Intake, a Dollhouse fan fiction
by Peter Tupper
Adelle's teleconferences with the Dollhouse's board members were always an odd experience. Not only were their faces obscured, their voices were digitally altered until they sounded like hybrids of cartoon animals and science fiction robots. She privately dubbed them the Cyborg Squirrels.
"... which brings us to our next potential Active, designated November 3.2." She tapped her laptop's button and sent a group of face and body images and background information files to the board members. "I've completed the stage 1 interviews, background research and medical examination."
"She's fat," said Cyborg Squirrel #4.
Adelle did not let herself frown.
"Yes," added Cyborg Squirrel #2. "We're in the business of thoroughbreds. People don't spend seven figures for a weekend with a soccer mom."
Adelle had anticipated this, and smoothly began her pitch. "First, if you examine appendix C of my report, you will see that we've received a significant number of requests for women with fuller figures than our usual offerings. Such a physique has a strong niche appeal, according to the market analysis.
"And second...." Adelle tapped her laptop, sending another image to the board. It was the potential November at a happier time, a snapshot taken by by her husband. The young woman was captured at the moment of lifting her infant daughter out of her stroller, her round face glowing with love and joy. Of course, right now her baby was dead, her husband was estranged and the woman herself was a clinically depressed wreck on suicide watch in a mental hospital, but the board didn't care about that.
"Look at this angelic face. This is a face people will want to take care of. This is a face people will trust to take care of them. And this is a face people will trust to look after their loved ones. We expect excellent performance as a discrete security escort for children, low-profile infiltration and surveillance, or corporate negotiator, as well as strong appeal to certain segments of the romantic market, such as ageplayers and adult babies."
"I don't like her teeth," said Cyborg Squirrel #1. "Can you do something about the overbite?"
"The overbite's not the problem. It's the total package," came from Cyborg Squirrel #2.
"She has a certain... homely charm."
"We're running a business, not a charity."
"Do you think she'll work out, DeWitt?" asked Cyborg Squirrel #1.
"I would not present a candidate to the board if I did not think he or she would make sufficient return on investment."
"Based on what?" the squeaky-raspy voice said.
"Call it a personal judgement from the manager of the firm's top performing branch for the past two years, even in a recession."
"And with the highest rate of glitching Actives."
Adelle's jaw tightened. "Regardless, my record speaks for itself."
There was a pause. Adelle assumed they were conferring amongst themselves. This took longer than usual. She tapped her fingertip against her laptop's track pad, making the mouse pointer twitch. Why was this bothering her so? After a moment's reflection, she knew it was because she expected that, if nothing changed, that lovely young mother in the picture would likely be dead by her own hand within a year.
She got up and poured a cup of tea at her office's kitchenette, then turned and looked at the city's skyline through the window, sipping her tea and watching the people go about their lives.
In her years of recruiting for the Dollhouse, haunting various hospitals, asylums, prisons, halfway houses, homeless shelters and dive bars, Adelle had become something of a connoisseur of human failure. There were so many ways a person's life could be in shambles, to the point at which spending five years as an Active would seem like an improvement.
But not everybody fit the profile. Youth and looks mattered, to be frank, less so for the men than the women. Then there were any number of mental and physical health problems that would disqualify them. After that, the criteria were more a matter of personal judgement. Often the candidates were some combination of vicious, greedy and stupid, resulting in lives that were rough, black comedy, and Adelle had no sympathy for them. Let them wallow in the consequences of their own mistakes.
Instead, she sought the fallen heroes, the unfortunate victims, those whose lives were tragedies, not comedies. The soldier so traumatized by war that he begged to have his memory altered. The animal rights activist turned homeless fugitive. In this case, the young mother falsely accused of murdering her own infant daughter. Adelle DeWitt dealt in second chances, not get-out-of-jail-free cards.
She had made her pitch to the board, but she knew it was even odds. Sometimes she had to leave them to their fates, the ones who weren't pretty or healthy enough. In order to sleep at night, she made a point of not following them up. Perhaps she wasn't quite the philanthropist she thought, or maybe it wasn't philanthropy at all.
There was a faint pop as the audio turned on again. "All right, DeWitt," said Cyborg Squirrel #1, "you can offer her the deal. But if she takes it, make her lose fifteen pounds in addition to the usual alterations."
"Consider it done, ladies and gentlemen." The Cyborg Squirrels ended the teleconference.
Adelle gathered up her folders, knowing there was a car waiting in the motor pool to take her to the mental hospital where she would make the deal. At least today, everybody got what they needed.
--30--
Adelle was a strong believer in the importance of recruiting. Surround yourself with the right people, and they will take care of all the other problems. That applied to Actives as well.