“Put in a reminder to fill this out,” I said. “All the cool writers do that,” I said. “What’s the harm?” Arrggh…
That made one conversation in particular extra-awkward. “What?” Mika sounded annoyed and confused, in equal parts. “No, you can’t go through Adam Sild’s things. There’s no point to it.”
“You saying that as the doctor, or my boss?” I asked her.
“Both. Your boss has to remember that Adam’s sick, and supposed to be on his way to treatment. He’s also not involved with any of the crap that’s happened here since we put him in cold sleep, so there’s no reason to ignore his privacy rights.”
“We don’t know that,” I pointed out. “He could be involved, somehow. Maybe the people behind all of this had a connection with him.”
“Or maybe he went space-happy all on his own, Pam. That’s the right way to guess.”
“Fine.” It wasn’t, obviously. “So what does the doctor think?”
“The doctor thinks you focus a little too hard on Adam Sild.” That stopped me, particularly since Maki looked concerned when she said it. “As in, your face suddenly looks more attentive when you hear his name, Pam. It’s subtle, but it’s there. I think you should mention it, the next time you have a therapy session.”
Fortunately, she didn’t make that an instruction, although she might have if there hadn’t been a distraction just then. Something involving priority levels for our short-term supplies, which were starting to dip a bit from the quarantine and general insanity. One more thing for Maki to worry about, so I decided to cut my losses and leave before she noticed I hadn’t agreed to let my brain get scrubbed too squeaky-clean.