Number Two took picked up Number Seven's file and settled back in his chair. On the screen Seven herself sat perched on the edge of a chair as if she were carved out of granite. The only movement was that of her right hand, absently worrying the scarf about her neck as if it were a leash pulled too tight.
The doctor watched her sourly. "This impassive state the subject exhibits is unexpected."
"A difficult adjustment." Two said without interest. "Or a clever act."
"Both possibilities of course," the man scoffed softly. "But under the circumstances there is danger of emotional collapse."
"In that event she won't be of any use at all." Two said dismissively.
Idly he thumbed through Number Seven's file. It now contained the medical notes from the girl's time in hospital. He skimmed over the meticulously written pages. It was a fascination how torture, when transcribed in clinical terms, could be made to seem as if it were done for the of benefit the victim.
"Your method was thorough enough," he commented. "If this experiment fails, it won't for lack of initiative."
"The subject responded quite well to treatment." the doctor said in an antiseptic tone. "Better than anticipated, given her nature."
Treatment. Such a delicate euphemism. When recorded, tonight's session would be so labeled. If he were a kind man he would have permitted the good doctor to butcher her brain and have done with it. The quiet girl on the screen seemed to look his way with vacant eyes.
He glanced at his watch. It should be any moment now.
The phone in the girl's room rang. Number Seven looked toward the instrument, and he wondered if she would choose to disobey. She rose mechanically and lifted the phone to her ear. Without emotion she listened to the instructions and replaced the phone on its cradle. Her eyes went to the camera again, as if seeking him out. If their efforts against her were effective or she meant them to believe as much, she would come. The opening door drew her attention. She looked that way, still dull as a bare wall. But she wasn't long in making up her mind. She went out. He felt some measure of relief. He shouldn't have liked to spoil the evening with a forced extraction.
"An encouraging sign" The doctor said with a critical scowl etched on his face. "Shows some willingness to conform."
Number Two leaned out of his chair and asked "How much confidence do you have in this treatment of yours, doctor?"
"On an ordinary subject, the conditioning technique is highly effective." The doctor curled a lip contemptuously at the screen. "However, given the unusual temperament of Number Seven, I cannot make any guarantees as to its success. My concerns are on record."
"Never mind that," Two said absently, "Should this experiment fail to produce the desired results, I will authorize the procedure."
As the two men watched as Number Seven made her way through the darkened Village towards the Dome, the doctor nearly smiled.
Number Two refereed back to the file and selected the image of Number Seven standing in front of Number Six's former residence, exposed to the spying eye of a camera even as she was now. On his giant screen she moved across the silent square like a sleep walker. It was only when she reached the foot of the stairs that she appeared to become aware. She glanced up at the Green Dome. She could yet decide to avoid their appointment.
The doctor watched with the anticipation of one observing the behavior of a rat in a complex maze. "Some indication of reluctance," he said. "The impulse to obey isn't strong enough to over shadow the of sense of self preservation."
"I should be surprised if it were." Number Two replied dryly.
The girl came up the steps and approached the door with no less caution than a gazelle checking the watering hole for crocodiles. How dreadful it must be for her to face him again.
He synced the file so that the image of Seven at Six's London residence filled the screen.
.
.
.
.
.
.
The steel doors slid aside and the little butler ushered her in. Number Two rose from his chair with the flourish of one receiving a royal guest.
"So good of you to join us, my dear." He indicated the doctor. "You remember Number Forty Nine, of course."
The door slid shut behind her like the jaws of a trap.
"Do forgive the late hour." He reached for the control to bring up a chair. "Couldn't be helped, I'm afraid. Busy day you know." The blue light snapped on and bathed the chair in its cold glow. "But please do come in and make yourself comfortable."
She regarded the proffered seat as a condemned prisoner would the gallows.
"Come along," he cajoled, "don't be shy."
Her eyes met his across the distance and she replied without humour."Will you walk into my parlour? said the Spider to the Fly."
Still a few surprises left. He allowed a narrow smile. "Are you fly, my dear?"
"Are you a spider?"
"I can be a very good friend or a very bad enemy." he waved a hand towards the waiting chair. "Enough childish nonsense. Be seated."
"I agreed to report to you," she said in a voice that was suddenly made of glass. "This isn't necessary."
"I'll be the judge of what's necessary," he reminded her. "Kindly take your place. Or must you be assisted?"
The girl looked at the dower doctor then back to himself. She could resist of course. But to do so would demonstrate that she still processed an independent mind. It would be interesting to see to what lengths was she willing to go to convince them otherwise.
With a shuttering of her face she came down the ramp and in true dedication to the performance, seated herself obediently beneath the light.
"Nicely done," Number Two said. "If you behave this need not be an unpleasant experience."
To his delight she glanced away from him to the screen, where her clandestine attempt to meet with Number Six was displayed like the scene from a movie. She had so few secrets left. Her problem was she didn't know which ones she yet needed to guard. He let her consider it for a moment and then changed to screen to a camera view. Number Six appeared, readying himself for bed.
"Now that you've had time to become acquainted," Number Two said, "what do you make of our friend?"
In that odd way of his, Number Six turned to the camera and for a moment he and the girl seemed to regard one another.
"Relentless," she answered.
"Indeed." he let the contempt ooze unabated. "You were quite at home in his company today."
"He's training me." she said distantly, turning away from the screen. "He said it's what you wanted."
"Number Six is new to you. You don't know him as well as I." he explained patiently. "He's not a man given to doing as he's told."
She looked at him with that irritatingly blank expression, like a page with nothing written on it. His fingers moved to knob that controlled the light, caressed it lovingly "You on the other hand are showing remarkable acquiescence. My masters are most pleased."
"I've only agreed to talk." she said almost hotly.
Her defiance warranted a rebuke, yet he stayed his hand.
"To report," he corrected, "on Number Six." He let the words hang between them so she might reflect on the true nature of their agreement. She looked away, retreating from the mere idea of such moral corruption.
"You are to spy on him for me." He enjoyed her revulsion, scarcely concealed beneath that emotionless facade. The doctor was mistaken. There was a good deal of emotion left in her. He only need coax it out. "Now let's get on with it, shall we?" he said brightly. "Yesterday in the Mango Grove, what did you and Number Six talk about?"
In anticipation of the miseries he was about to visit upon her, she withdrew into herself. "My Birthday." she said quietly.
Almost without thought he twisted the knob. The stab the light delivered contorted her face with pain and his own with pleasure. He could make her feel. For a moment he watched as she strained under the agony of it, then with some reluctance allowed the intensity fall back.
With effort she pulled herself upright and looked over at him. Her face was empty again, but the torment of the light had left it glistening like polished stone.
On the screen Number Six, his nightly routine abandoned, began to pace.
"That was a warning," Number Two cautioned. "Don't toy with me, Number Seven. Number Six lied to you about escape to persuade you to come back here. He has a reason, what is it?"
Her expression changed, just for a moment, the way a ripple disturbs a still pond. She might be good at pretending, but it was clear enough Number Six's betrayal had left a deep wound. With a few simple alterations of the truth, it could become a mortal injury.
"To teach me to be an assassin."
He turned the knob enough for her to feel the threat of its bite.
"That is a lie." he said sternly. "What is his true purpose?"
"To teach me to kill, for you."
Another quarter turn and she gasped. On the screen Number Six seemed to grow more animated. Moving with increased aggression.
"Number Six is planning something." Number Two demanded. "What is it?"
"I don't know." she nearly cried. "He hasn't told me."
"Number Six is planning to exact some measure of revenge against the Village. He intends to use you to that end." He said with exaggerated patience. "So you see, there really is nothing to hide. We know it all."
"Then why do you ask?"
It was near a challenge. His fingers yearned towards the control, but he held himself back. He mustn't appear too eager. He cast an eye on the doctor, who stood by, patient as a hat rack. He wondered at the impulse that had made him request the man's presents. Did he not trust himself alone with her?
Again he reduced the light's power. The relief caused the girl to droop.
"A double check does no harm," He said quickly.
As Number Sever gathered herself for his next assault he met Number Six's hard glare through the camera. It was as if the man somehow knew. The idea was absurd. He turned away.
"Number Six has put you in a difficult position, my dear," he said sympathetically. "He's deceived you into believing a great many things that are simply not true." She looked at him warily, wondering no doubt what this new game game was all about. A little time ruminate on it would do her good. Almost sadly he said. "It must be a terrible disappointment to know that he only intends to use you as a pawn."
She was quiet, seeming to watch the man on the screen through half closed eyes.
"I might be able to help you."Number Two said, his tone almost pleading. He could sill be a friend, if only she would permit it.
Her attention came back to him.
"I really do find this most distasteful," he said, "You're willingness to cooperate, to tell us the details of Number Six's plan will go a long way in convincing us of your sincere desire to work for us"
She looked away again as if to escape from his proposition. "I can't tell you what I don't know."
"Doesn't he trust you?"
"He doesn't trust you."
He twisted the control. The girl cried out and strained back against the chair.
The doctor looked her way. "Surprisingly defiant." He said. "Perhaps the release from hospital was premature."
"An irritation that will be remedied soon enough." Number Two said. He released Number Seven from the light's crushing hold and gave her a brief reprieve in which to reconsider how she answered him.
Number Six had wheeled to face him. They seemed to glare at each other through the camera for a long tense moment and he found himself entertaining the fantastic notion that the man could actually see him. He pushed it aside. The strain of the night's proceedings was getting to him.
But what was evident was that Number Six knew more than he aught and the girl's attachment to him was still far too strong. The Number Two turned back to her.
He asked. "Does Number Six suspect that you are reporting to me?"
She didn't answer, still reeling from the effects.
"Come, my dear," he said impatiently. "What's it all about?"
When she finally replied her voice had a dreamy quality. "He knows I've made a deal with you."
"How did he discover that?"
"I told him."
"Why?" he asked in sudden anger.
"He would never believe a lie."
He gave the control another turn. The light flared up. Its victim, unable even to scream, stared up at it with wide unblinking eyes. He let it embrace her for a long cruel moment. She was either proving to be a useless spy or a devilishly clever co-conspirator. When he allowed the torment to subside the girl slumped down, breathing shallowly.
On the screen Number Six went to the door, which did not open. He spun back to pace the room in violent agitation. The man knew too much and said too little. Another irritation he would soon dispense with.
He turned his attention back to Number Seven. She was slower recovering this time. He should have to be careful not exhaust her endurance too quickly.
"He can be ever so charming," he drew her attention back to the screen where Six circled his cage restlessly. "A most accomplished spy. One can scarcely fault you for being duped."
She watched the screen listlessly.
"Number Six holds a great deal of resentment towards the Village." He said gently. "He views his imprisonment here as unjust."
Not so much as a flicker. A testament to the Village's influence over her mind or to her own resolve.
"All we require of him is some information. It's a trivial question, really," he went on. "He resigned from his job and we would simply like to know why."
He watched her quiet face. "Number Six maintains it was a matter of conscience," he said. "Nothing we've tried will shake the truth out of him. I do believe he would have died before he confessed." he said the last with a hint of sorrow, as if the thought of it grieved him. "Your arrival is most fortuitous."
When she turned his way, too much interest shown in her eyes. He'd got her wondering.
"We've tried so many times to get him drop his guard. To form a bond." he continued as if she had become a confidant. "He's always resisted." The restless man on the screen seemed to look back at him with open hostility. "Do you know what makes you special to him?"
"He was friends with my father." She returned without hesitation, eager to supply known information as if it had value.
"Yes, your father." his voice sounded serpentine even to his own ears. "Has Number Six told you what became of him?"
"I know he was brought here," she said tonelessly. "The Village killed him."
"Are you quite certain of that?"
He waited as his words took effect. Suspicion creased her brow. He was not to be trusted. He smiled. That made the poison even more potent. "Do you wish to know your father's true fate? At the hands of a friend?"
She clouded over, prepared to disbelieve. No matter. Doubt was all that was required.
"When your father disappeared, it was discovered that he had betrayed his loyalties, stolen valuable information which he intended to sell to the enemy."
The accusation was like the spark that ignites the flame. "He didn't steal anything." Her eyes burned him."He found you."
His hand moved to the control, but he allowed the offense to go unanswered. Instead he said. "It was Number Six who was tasked with finding him."
The contradiction of her understanding of reality troubled her. It was the Village that had visited evil upon those she loved and brought her to this low point. Her eyes hated him. But hate is a currency that can be easily transferred. This time he adjusted the control delicately. The light grew in subtle intensity, increasing the chaos in her mind. Now they would see how well the conditioning had taken. She blinked unhappily under this fresh assault.
"He's led you to believe the Village was the villain in this piece, hasn't he?"
There was no response. She was clinging to her long held memories. A child's memories, grown dusty with time. Fragile as old parchment. Ready to crumble at a touch.
"A clever deception to hide an awful truth."
With an effort, like one coming out of a trance, she looked away seeking some form of refuge. Her gaze went back to the man on the screen as if he might save her. But the cold technology only provided her that unseeing glance. Ever so gently he turned the knob, granting the light a bit more influence. Her breathing became fretful and her hands gripped the arms of the chair, turning the knuckles white.
On the screen Number Six had ceased his pacing and settled himself at the kitchen counter to watch the camera with dangerous intent. His restless fingers drummed impatiently.
Number Two picked up the file that contained the tragedies of Number Seven's youth. He flipped it open to the now familiar image. It flashed up on the screen.
Sudden shock registered on her face as she recognized the scene. But she couldn't turn away. She couldn't even close her eyes against the horror of it. The light held her the way amber holds an insect.
He laid the file aside and went over to her. Memorized by the light she wasn't aware of him. He watched for a long delicious moment as she endured the torment of the past. Then with a touch drew her rudely back to a present that was no less terrible.
"Such a shame," he followed her frozen stare to the scene of death. "Your mother was a beautiful women." He brushed the hair back from her face, as still as that of the dead woman's on the screen. "You take after her."
Tears glistened in her eyes and he felt the murderous passion stir faintly.
"You mustn't blame yourself," he comforted. "You weren't to know what a ruthless man, Number Six, really is."