Dina Chapter 2: Waking Up

Hospitals are the same everywhere in the first world - white in colour, acrid in scent, and lacking in soul, Paolo mused. Unbidden memories of his car wreck, the long convalescence, and the interminable physical therapy filled his thoughts. He shook his head free of their unwanted grasp, and took in the room.

Unlike most, this one did not have a window. It had instead a large mirror, one Paolo recognized from many an interrogation room. He walked up and gave it five light raps with his knuckle - a slow one followed by two quick taps, then two slow ones. Shave-and-a-haircut. He listened and was rewarded by the expected response: two slow taps. Two bits. He nodded at the mirror, acknowledging the mystery observer. It's probably the Captain.

Paolo continued his survey. This room was not initially designed as a hospital room. A fuse box disturbed one wall, and the ceiling had open vents dotting between the fluorescent panels. In the corner sat unused two or three wheeled privacy panels. A wheeled trolley was the only furniture in the room aside from the bed. No chairs.

After a quizzical look at the mirror, Paolo approached the bed. It seemed huge compared to the tiny form under the blanket. Her head was likewise too small compared to the pillow under it. Her shoulder-length yellowish-brown hair was neatly brushed. The young girl's face was relaxed, but a rivulet of tears traced its way from the corner of each eye.

Paolo rested the white box at the foot of the bed, pulled a tissue from the box on the trolley and dabbed the sleeping girl's tears. Looking around, he did not find a waste bin, so he put the slightly damp tissue in his pocket.

She inhaled deeply, then yawned as she sat up. The blankets fell away, revealing a pale green smock over her boyish body. One arm straight up, the other bent back, she finally opened her eyes. "Eeep!" she squealed, then hurriedly smoothed her wrinkled top. "Hello, Signore Di Tomaso!"

Paolo stood a little straighter, surprised by her enthusiasm. "Uh, hello, Dina. Did you sleep well? His hand, still in his pocket, squeezed the tissue. "What did you dream about?"

She frowned, lips pursed, head canted. "I ... I don't remember. Is it important? I'll try to remember it next time, I promise! I'm sorry I -"

"No, no. That's fine. I was just asking. It's okay if you don't remember your dreams. So, you know my name. What else do you know about me?"

She placed one finger to the side of her jaw and let her eyes rise absently at the line where the wall joined the ceiling. "Well, I know you're Signore Paolo Di Tomaso, and you graduated from Università di Camerino. After that, you were in the Carabinieri for fifteen years, and were cross-assigned to the Servizio per le Informazioni e la Sicurezza Militare for five years under Captain Claudio Raballo." She blinked. "Uh... what does cross-assigned mean?"

The question seemed so incongruous Paolo gaped for a second before he could answer. "It meant I was still officially in the Carabinieri, but I was working for the SISMI. So why did you use the word if you didn't know what it meant?"

Dina looked at him and smiled. "I don't know. It just came out, I guess. Is that okay?"

With a shrug, Paolo said, "I guess it's okay."

"Great!" Her smile beamed even more brightly, causing her eyes to almost squint shut. It was one of pure joy, of infinite gratitude.

It disquieted Paolo. The reaction was so strong, but unexpected and undeserved. "Look, you don't have to be so ..."

She froze and looked at him, stared at him. Her eyes were wide, her gaze utterly unguarded and open to him.

She's expecting an order.

"I mean, could you not be so ... excited? It sort of ... bothers me."

Instantly, the smile fell away, and she clasped her hands in her lap. Her eyes never left his, and showed no spark of resentment. If anything, they seemed even hungrier for his next words. She blinked twice, then swallowed. "Uh.. Is this better?"

He sighed. "Yes. It seems you know a little about me. So what do you know about yourself?"

"My name is Dina. I work for the Social Welfare Agency. You are my handler. I will do whatever you say."

"Why?"

"Huh?" She startled from the formal pose. Her head tilted to one side again. "What do you mean, why?"

"Why will you do whatever I say?"

"Uh... because you're my handler?" No longer awaiting a command, her eyes came alive again, this time looking at him with a mix of pleading and hope.

"I might tell you to kill someone. Would you do it?"

"Yes. Who?" Without hesitation, she responded. Her pupils again grew large, eager for instructions.

"No one. No one. I'm just asking. Killing someone is very serious, you know. It changes you."

"Uh-huh." She nodded.

"You knew that?"

"Nuh-uh. But you said it, so it's gotta be true."

"You're not bothered by this?"

"Nope. It's what the Agency wants me to do, right?"

Paolo thought back to the girls training at the ranges and simulated environments. "Sometimes. Sometimes, we just need to watch and take notes." He sighed. "But most of the time, I think they expect you to kill."

"Yay! I got it right! Eeep!" In mid cheer, she stopped and cringed in contrition. "I'm sorry, Signore Di Tomaso! I'll try to be quieter! I promise."

"No, no, that's all right. Just be yourself. It was wrong of me to ask you to change."

She gasped. "Oh, no. It wasn't wrong. If I was bugging you, I should change, right?"

Paolo opened his mouth, then closed it and swallowed. Either answer is wrong. He shot a glare at the mirror. Raballo, what have you gotten me into?

"Signore Di Tomaso? Should I change?"

"No. Just be yourself." He braced himself for the inevitable.

"Great!"

"Look, I have to go. I need to talk with Captain Raballo about something important." He picked up the box.

"Uh, Signore Di Tomaso?"

He stopped, his hand on the door handle. "Yes? And, can you call me Paolo?"

In that soft whisper only little girls can muster, she said, "I think you're very handsome, Signore Pablo."