Chapter Three – An Ordinary Day of Work
Sydney heard the sound of her heels grow louder and looked up. Sure enough, Miss Parker's face appeared in the doorway. How she carried herself when she walked, not to mention the expression on her face, told Sydney that Miss Parker was especially irritated this day and that it'd be best if he treated cautiously while around her.
Miss Parker approached Sydney's desk, placed her hands on it, regardless of the various papers under them, and leaned forward. "You're a psychiatrist, Sydney," she remarked as her eyes pierced through his face and through the wall behind him. Or so it seemed to Sydney.
"Go on, Miss Parker," Sydney prodded in what he hoped what a neutral tone.
"Tell me ... what motivates Jarod?"
Perhaps later, Sydney would be able to ask her why she should ask such a question. Now was not a good time. He answered her instead: "I believe that at first, Jarod sought atonement for what he had done while he was here. That he did not intentionally kill anyone made no difference to him; the fact that he had been used by The Centre was enough of a reason." Sydney paused.
Miss Parker picked up some of the papers under her hand and took a seat. "And now?"
"Now, I think Jarod enjoys helping people. He enjoys the feeling he gets when he's finished righting a wrong. That feeling carries him through the times during which he is looking for his family and is constantly being disappointed."
A page with the Centre letterhead near the top caught Miss Parker's attention and she began reading it. Presently she looked up and Sydney could see she had gone from extremely irritated to normal, which, Sydney conceded, wasn't anywhere near contentment, but it was a step up. "Last question. Why on Earth doesn't Jarod just disappear?" Miss Parker asked as she returned the papers to Sydney's desk.
Sydney folded his hands and looked at Miss Parker. "Jarod is a complex character. Perhaps slightly more so because his motives are extremely logical when they regard The Centre. What I've come to conclude is that Jarod does this out of convenience. By controlling how fast we chase him, he is able to anticipate and plan ahead." Sydney paused, and Miss Parker got up and out of her chair. "On the other hand, he could just like vexing you."
"Don't push it, Syd," Miss Parker hissed at him, glaring at his slight smile. "This day did not start well."
Deciding it was better to ask now than to pursue the subject later, Sydney queried, "Why the questions, Miss Parker?"
"Keep your friends close," Miss Parker started as she headed out the door.
Sydney finished it alone: "But keep your enemies closer."
Miss Parker walked past Broots' dimly lit office and saw him cleaning up his things. She approached him with an amused smile. "Broots, where are you going today? You got a date with your internet buddy? Who is she this time, a middle-aged hippie with a goiter?"
Broots looked up, temporarily distracted from cleaning. "Oh, hello, Miss Parker." He started stacking papers. "For your information, the fare in the Centre cafeteria has gone downhill and I wanted to eat out today. And ... and ..." – Broots faltered under her gaze – "she doesn't have a goiter. She's rather nice looking – "
Apparently, Miss Parker had not heard the last part. The smile had left her face as she interrupted with "What time is it?"
Broots looked at the watch on his left wrist. "It's 11:45, Miss Parker. Time for lunch."
Miss Parker considered this for a while, then made an abrupt about turn and briskly left Broots confused.
Jarod had finally managed to take one of the PEZ candy dispensers apart. The pieces lay next to him in a forgotten manner.
Carefully, he straightened the middle of the spring and re-bent it into the shape of a horseshoe.
At a Chinese food restaurant on the way to her house, Miss Parker tapped her foot impatiently. As the person in front of her peeled out of line with his order of chow mien noodles, the cashier said, "Herro! How can I herrup you?"
Miss Parker said without hesitation, "Two of the sweet and sour shrimp."
After relaying the order to the chefs, he remarked, "Sat a rot of food for a ritter rady."
She glared at him and asked, "What a Japanese person doing in a Chinese restaurant?"
The cashier was spared having to comment due to the efficiency of the chefs. He gave the food to Miss Parker, who left with a muttered, "Doomo." As he served the next person, he was slightly disoriented, perplexed by the woman in heels.
Miss Parker quietly opened the door and saw Jarod working on the last cuff on his right hand. Crossing the room in six long, brisk steps, she re-fixed all of the hand cuffs. "You always find me at inconvenient moments," he remarked, somewhat annoyed.
"Lucky me," Miss Parker murmured as she left with the spring previously in Jarod's hand, the deconstructed PEZ dispensers, the rest of the dispensers, and the empty bowl of cereal. She returned with the sweet and sour shrimp. She took a seat in front of him.
"Thanks," Jarod said as he accepted the warm lunch. He opened the package of chopsticks and watched Miss Parker, unsure of how to go about using them.
She smiled at his uncertainty and opened her own as well. "Thank Broots. He reminded me it was lunchtime," Miss Parker corrected Jarod as she arranged the chopsticks in her right hand. She ate a shrimp.
Jarod mimicked Miss Parker, if a bit clumsier, and also picked up a shrimp. His first attempt splashed back into the soup and he looked at Miss Parker sheepishly as she suppressed her laughter and hid her grin with a napkin. The second time he confidently placed a shrimp in his mouth. Miss Parker watched as he chewed it slowly, and then swallowed, and she smiled at the delight on his face as he said, "Mmm! It's very good!"
They ate the rest of lunch in silence, and when they were done, Miss Parker took both of the empty containers to throw away. She got a last glimpse of Jarod before closing the door to his room – he was building a house of card with his identification cards – and then left to return to The Centre.
Broots intercepted Miss Parker on the way to her office. She acknowledged his presence with a customary "What?"
Broots trotted to keep up with Miss Parker's long strides. "Ahm ..." he began as he handed a file to Miss Parker, "as you know, the only clue left for us at Jarod's last lair was a piece of paper with your address on it. I had the piece of paper dusted for fingerprints and did a computer search to find the person the prints belong to. There's a list of possibilities inside the file."
Miss Parker looked at the manila folder. Taking the papers out, she held the folder with her right forefinger and thumb. "Don't you ever run out of these?" she asked Broots.
Broots stammered out a 'no' and Miss Parker put the documents back in the file. "Anyway," he continued, "the possibilities are in there. As well as a copy of the note with your address on it."
They reached Miss Parker's office. "Thanks, Broots," Miss Parker said as she stepped inside without him.
"You're welcome," Broots called from the threshold, which was where he hesitated before he left Miss Parker to her own devices.
In her office, Miss Parker glanced through various documents quickly. They were not thorough background checks of the people, just a description and a list of the jobs they currently had. Her attention became drawn to the handwriting on the note, which was strangely familiar.
Sydney was in his work area studying a pair of mentally impaired identical male twins. He was perplexed by the way the twins seemed to act as one person. Both of the twins seemed to be stumbling around blind, even though only one was in a dark chamber. He heard a voice that said, quite loudly, "The adventures of Dr. Frankenstein."
Sydney turned around and saw his young colleague. "Oh, hello, Miss Parker," he said, and went back to observation.
"What are you doing?" she asked, apparently with genuine interest.
The psychologist was pleased that Miss Parker seemed to be in better humor. "As you know, the Centre has me doing research on paranormal relationships and psychogenic tendencies between twins while I'm not hunting for Jarod."
"Ah." Miss Parker said. She looked at the twins in the individual chambers. "And these?"
"The relationship between these two is very ... unique." Sydney sounded genuinely bewildered. "The twin in the dark, Castor, seems to be the controlling twin. When he stumbles, Pollux, the twin in the light, stumbles. When Castor eats while Pollux doesn't have any food in front of him, Pollux will go through the motions of eating. It's very odd."
"The Centre is a collection of oddities, Syd'" Miss Parker mused. She watched Castor and Pollux stumble and fall as one.
"What brings you to my work area, Miss Parker?" Sydney inquired, curious about her real purpose.
"Hmm?" she said distractedly as she watched Pollux trip over an object that wasn't there. She looked at Sydney as she registered the question. "It's Jarod," she said finally. "He's cheerful."
Sydney scribbled a few observations in his notebook. "How so?"
"He's friendly." Miss Parker picked up an optical illusion and turned it upside down. The number of cubes depicted changed. She turned it right side up again. "During my other encounters with him, he was anxious to escape. After lunch today, he was building a house out of ID cards."
Sydney pressed two buttons, causing Castor's room to flood with light and Pollux's room to be drained of it. The stumbling and falling stopped. "It might be because he's correctly deduced that he's going to be under your control for a while so he might as well make the best of things."
Miss Parker set the optical illusion down. "How can he be sure?" she asked. "For all he knows, I could bring him here tomorrow."
Sydney looked at Miss Parker carefully. "I believe it does it by looking at your eyes," he said and went back to observing Castor and Pollux.
"Ah," Miss Parker murmured as she wrote a note on a Post-It. She gave it to Sydney and reminded him, "I'll see you tonight, Syd'." She left.
The scientist looked at the note, which said 'fingerprint set' and pocketed it. Then he went back to studying the twins while meditating on Jarod's behavior.