Sympathy

[pc32_fics]

Miroku watches the woman watch the boy as he is prepared to be wiped.

Another engagement completed, another series of memories to be downloaded into the computer.

Rinse, lather, repeat. Like washing the inside of the boy’s brain; his memories will be squeaky clean for the next personality to be downloaded.

Until then, the boy will be empty yet again.

The woman seems aggrieved. His heart goes out to her and he wonders what it would be like to time and time again watch a family member be stripped of everything that made them who they are.

Were.

May be, again, when their contract with the Dollhouse expires.

Miroku has read the files; it was the first thing Adelle, mistress of the Dollhouse, required him to do. The computer genius’ new assistant had to know everything about those he’d be working with.

He studies the woman again, his conversation with Adelle still ringing in his ears.

‘Why allow people so close to the dolls be handlers? Isn’t it a conflict of interest?”

Adelle turned sharp eyes on the new technician. “Not at all.” Her lilting accent seems harsher than when they last spoke. “It guarantees the dolls are in the best possible hands. Take Sango, for instance. She could not talk her brother out of joining us; since that failed, she stuck with him and bid us agree to her terms: that she be able to keep an eye on him. She can do that best as his handler. Whereas another handler may get distracted, Sango will not falter.”

It is manipulation at its finest, Miroku realizes. On one hand, he can appreciate it; years as a con artist provide him a unique insight to the world he is now a part of.

On the other… the woman appears so very sad.

Her brother is taken away from her again and again and again; he speaks with her, travels with her… and is never himself.

What must that be like? Miroku hopes to sympathize – all the better to win the pretty woman’s affections – but knows that even f he had family, he’d never wish to empathize.

At Topher’s curt command (the genius is still upset at the new technician’s presence), Miroku flips the switch.

The blue light haloes the boy’s head. In moments, his eyes turn dull. They flicker toward the woman. “Did I fall asleep?”

Miroku watches the woman gulp, grasping mentally for composure.

“For a little while.”