the daffodils of paris Who: Isobel & Matt. What: Isobel goes for her spa day and some strange things happen. Where: WiLoft Spa. When: May 13.
"OK, we'll meet you guys in the lobby after," Isobel replied, waving as Rafe and Gabe disappeared into the men's side of the spa. She and Alice entered the women's locker room, changing into white robes provided by the establishment; they matched everything else there. White walls, white lockers, white floor tiles. Even the lighting was soft, creating an ambiance of peace.
"I think I'm gonna get a mud facial first, before the massage; I'll meet you in the hot tubs in a bit?" Isobel broke away from Alice to follow an attendant to the facials area; she turned down one hall, and into another, faintly making her wonder just how large the place was. Soon enough, though, she was distracted by an invitation to sit in a large, plush chair.
A spa employee approached her with a small pan of exfoliating mud and a stick-like tool to apply it, sitting on a nearby stool while another bent over the back of the chair, gently rubbing her temples to put her into a relaxed state. The sitting attendant began to apply the mud with gentle, careful strokes; sighing carefully, not wanting to upset the procedure being so delicately carried out, Isobel sank gratefully into the waiting arms of relaxation.
She barely felt the press of fingers around her wrist, the pressure points egging her already mostly-numb mind to slip completely into unconsciousness. That, followed by the quick prick of a needle along the back of her neck, and she was out completely.
When Isobel was handed over to Matthew Buchanan, she was no longer in the white robe and her face was clean. Instead, she lay upon a rolling table, much like the other guests of the spa, and donned a hospital robe.
“Thank you,” Matthew murmured with his back towards the woman on the table and the attendants who delivered her. He was busy setting up his recorder and getting his papers in order. It was a busy day, with multiple people coming through his doors one after another. He was running a tight ship and wanted to be sure he didn’t mix up any of his notes or recordings.
Pressing the record button, he turned to the woman and paused. She was beautiful and resting peacefully and somehow, somewhere deep within him, struck Matthew as familiar. Blinking, he realized the recorder was going and cleared his throat.
“Candidate…” he picked up the file hanging from the edge of the table and looked it over. “1I05 has arrived and the date is Saturday, May 13. 1I05 is female, twenty-eight years old, and her medical records indicate that she… suffered a miscarriage recently.” He frowned and looked at the woman again, feeling for her loss. “It should be noted that due to the miscarriage, her hormone levels are still heightened due to the recent pregnancy. She is otherwise healthy.”
Matthew sighed and placed the information back down before retreating from the table to slip plastic gloves on. “1I05 was placed into her sleeping state five minutes ago,” he called over his shoulder. Stepping away from the box of disposable gloves he returned to the table with a pin in his hand. He picked up the woman’s hand, ever so gently, and pressed the pin against her skin. He moved up her pale arm, handling her with more care than he had with previous subjects, and pressed the pin along various areas that would surely cause a flinch of movement. But the woman still rested.
“As before, vial one is 1I05’s mouth swab. She is healthy with no bruises, cuts, or sores. She is clean and takes good care of her body.” Even down to her fingernails, the woman obviously took care of herself. Matt gave a slight nod, agreeing with this observance, and retrieved the needle and vials for blood. “Now retrieving blood samples A, B, and C.” He made sure the drawing of blood was quick and he prided himself with how efficient he was with taking blood. Often, his patients wouldn’t even bruise. A little spot of blood at first and no more, she’d never even know.
As a swab collected the leftover drip of blood from the inside of her arm, Matthew continued to move about her body and take the other samples necessary. Hair, nails, and the blue light moved over every inch of her body.
He moved a stool beside the table and wrapped the woman’s arm with the blood pressure sleeve. Taking her blood pressure and listening to her heart, he was closer to the woman before and looked over her face. The cupid’s bow of her lips, her long eyelashes… and once more he felt he had seen her before but couldn’t pinpoint where.
With her blood pressure and heart rate recorded, Matthew pushed away to prepare for the injection of the serum. It was quicker work than the first time--Matthew had plenty of opportunity to get used to his new job over the previous two weeks. His employers seemed satisfied with the work he provided so his new job nerves had been removed.
“Now administering the serum to 1I05,” he announced before moving to inject the tiny vial of serum into the woman’s arm. It was quick work and he cleaned off the area afterward with rubbing alcohol just as he had before giving her the shot. Moving away, he disposed the needle into a container, switched on the timer and turned back to the woman. Crossing his arms over his chest, he watched her. “The timer has begun but thus far, no change in 1I05.”
For another beat, it almost seemed as if nothing would occur. Patient 1I05 remained still, the white room quiet and absent of life. And then, out of the corner of Matthew's eye, a flower appeared to the top, right hand side of the patient's head. Matthew turned and looked with wide eyes as it sprouted directly from the table she was lying on, the surface pocked a little as the plant's stem arced from its placement. Leaves unfurled, and its curled, purple petals aimed themselves toward the large light that hung directly over the patient's prone form. Matthew gasped and remained in place as he stared open mouthed at what was happening in front of him.
Another blink, and more flowers blossomed. They were all different shapes, different sizes; the only things they held in common were their simple names -- flowers -- and the fact that they stayed close to the unconscious woman's body. They seemed to lean over her, protective, unsure of the man who lingered near her in the room. If one could have given them an expression, it would have been of suspicion, as they tried to make some sense of where they were and why they were. Their growth stretched from patient 1I05's head down to her feet, and grew to the height of nearly half a foot before suddenly...disappearing.
All through this, the patient had not stirred in even the slightest manner.
For a moment more, Matthew stared at the woman and remained motionless, afraid that any movement could disrupt the flowers from returning. But even his motionless position did nothing, the flowers were gone.
“Something unbelievable happened,” Matthew murmured to his recorder. “Flowers appeared out of nowhere, blooming around 1I05 and arching over her in a protective way. They were large and not all the same, each flower was different, and then they vanished.”
He let out a slow breath and then realized he could move, pushing himself forward toward the woman where he grasped her wrist and lifted it from the table to study it and the table beneath. No sign of seeds or dirt or petals, no sign of anything. “The flowers appeared out of nothing and they vanished into nothing. There is no sign that the flowers were even here but they were.”
He let out a breath, feeling slightly giddy that something had happened. But was it what his employers were looking for? Flowers? And was it even possible that such a thing could happen. “Administering the second round of tests immediately before the change can fade,” Matthew all but yelled at his recorder as he rushed forward to get the various supplies and repeated the steps from earlier. Blood pressure, heart rate, mouth swabs, nail clippings, hair sample, and vials filled with blood. All came one after another and for a moment Matthew’s mind was able to fall silent as he concentrated on the task, but before long, it was done.
“No change in heart rate, no change in blood pressure,” Matthew commented, stepping back and looking at the woman again. He let out a sigh and shook his head. “No evidence that what I saw actually happened.
“Make note that I am going to follow this appointment with a series of tests for myself to ensure that there isn’t a change within my own body, causing me to hallucinate.” And then Matthew was at a loss. He had done everything he did with every single other person who came through but this was the first change to the activity. He took his tests, had his samples, and there was nothing else left to do. The physical was complete but he didn’t want to let her go, not yet.
Looking down at the sleeping woman, his fingers gently pressed against her arm. She was a beautiful and curious creature, but he couldn’t keep her there any longer--she could wake up at any minute. With a sigh, he turned away and crossed the room to make his call. “1I05 is ready to be wheeled out,” he said almost with a sense of sadness to his voice.
Rather than busy himself with her samples a short time later, he watched as she was rolled away.
Isobel came to back in the massage chair.
"Oh, wow," she muttered, a hand rising to her temples. "I didn't realize... I'm sorry, I didn't think I'd fall asleep like that!"
"It's fine," one of the attendants reassured her. Hands came down to massage her temples again; the mask was dry, and tight on her face. "Would you like to get a mani-pedi now, while you're here?"
"Uh, sure," Isobel replied, easily distracted. She wondered how long she'd been out; she felt a little embarrassed at the notion, but at least it seemed like the spa employees were used to such things. Instead, she let herself release the anxiety and focused on a clear coat of paint for her nails, hoping her friends were having as good of a time as she apparently was.