“Thank… you.”

The woman laughed. “Don’t thank me, Sapphira Lindsey. You don’t even know why I woke you early.”

Sapphira had time enough to be confused for a second before she watched the woman put a needle in her neck. The atmosphere shifted considerably: what had just been her benefactor was now an unknowable threat. Sapphira could feel a fuzziness in her brain, a sensation she accustomed with drowsiness but it never came. Almost instantaneously the feeling disappeared and everything became… sharp. Crystal clear. She became aware of a very unnerving urge to speak.

“I paid a pretty stack of cash for that,” the woman whispered. “A little experiment our people are working on. They could spare one dose, just one lovely little vial. It took four months of pay and a very satisfied superintendent to get this in my hands.” She glanced away at something for a moment. “We should still have plenty of time, but we must hurry.” She twisted her lips, annoyed. “I’ve been told that eventually you will fall into delusion and hallucinate. So, I’m going to ask a very simple question first, and you’re going to answer because you are very, very much compelled to: when did you first hear of Project Harmony?”

At first Sapphira did not recognize the name, but something tickled at the back of her mind, something small but compelling. Whatever the woman had given her was manipulating this memory, was tugging at it softly and then with force, was creating an unquenchable desire to speak of this memory that was so far far away, and then…
“Harmony,” Sapphira whispered. She remembered something. A face. A name…

“Blackburn.”

The Doctor was more than displeased. He was distraught, ridden with anger at the absurd request that delinquent woman had made of him.

Just a box. A box! He scoffed at the words. It was petty, of course he knew that, but he held on to the indignation. His skin still pulsed with the burn of the sand and the sun he endured attempting to undo the tarp from its stakes. He had fumbled with a spitefully tight knot for ages before it had come undone, only for a vengeful gust of wind to whip the tarp in his face. The damn thing managed to cut his lip and throw him onto his back. It was utterly disgraceful. And the box! Oh, that was an entire suffering all on its own.

Well… no matter. The debacle was over. He had the box on the floor of the elevator and brisk, conditioned air blowing against his scalp. He tapped his cane against the floor, thinking, believing today’s grief was over. But when the elevator doors opened he was greeted with a terrible sight.

“Cera Foley.” It took him a moment to absorb the view before him. Cera—the wretched liar—bent over the open machine, her hands grasped on each side with an expressive anticipation for something. And gazing into her evil little almond eyes was Sapphira Lindsey. Awake.

“Hmm.” Annoyance crept into her face. “That was fast, Doctor. Did you manage to grow new legs out in the sand?”

“You bitch,” the Doctor threw down the box he had dragged in, the sound of crunching glass inside indicating he had broken something he couldn’t care less about. “Sending me off like an errand boy for this. Who do you think you are?”

“Your superior, Doctor. We’ve been over this.” Cera seemed caught between speaking to Sapphira and berating the fuming man to her side. “Now would you mind leaving us? I still have much to discuss with little Saph here.”

“Like hell I will!”