The Third Option

Elizabeth hugged herself, shivering despite the fact that it was a steady 72 degrees Fahrenheit, about 22 degrees Celsius, and a little over 295 degrees kelvin...

"Oh, this is exactly what they're talking about!" she cried in despair.  She sat back in the cold metal chair, burying herself in thought and consideration.  She never liked the idea of someone going into her head and tampering with an organ that wasn't fully understood, so Option 1 was out of the question.  Option 2 seemed inviting, but what if it went against everything she was raised to believe?  Once in, it would be impossible to back out.

But what about Option 3?  That mysterious, vague third option?  They said they don't use it anymore, but there was something in their expressions that told her that statement was far from the truth.  The young Johnson had this odd half-curl to the corner of his lip, while the doctor got this odd spark in his eye, both as if taunting her, tempting her to choose the vague, ominous, "unused" Option 3.

Besides, these people had made hassles for her.  Why shouldn't I return the favor? she thought impishly.

A sharp rattle of metal jerked her from her thoughts as the Johnsons reappeared.

"Well Ms. Quinn," the doctor began, rubbing his hands together.  "What is your decision?"

"I think... that last option you'd mentioned," she answered firmly.  Dr and Mr Johnson glanced at each other with raised eyebrows.

"Very well.  Are you sure?" the younger counterpart asked.

"Absolutely."

She couldn't help but nervously observe the sly smirk that spread across the doctor's face.

"Alright then."  He nodded.  "Follow me, Ms. Quinn."  He had a surprisingly tight grip on her forearm, Elizabeth noticed.  She tried not to wince.

"Do you realize," he asked as they strode down a bleak hallway, "that you'll be greatly assisting our cause?"

"How so?"

"We'll be learning how you smart ones work.  How you tick.  However you want to put it."

"And how will that assist you?"

They stopped abruptly before an imposingly heavy door.  Elizabeth had to take a step to keep from falling.  Darn inertia, she thought.

The doctor turned her to so she faced him, gripping her other arm.  There was a rather sinister gleam in his eye.

"You smart ones, if not properly oriented, can be a danger to our cause.  If we learn how you smart ones work, we can learn how to stop it."

The End

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