|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Tue Jul 14, 2009 12:16 pm
I was working in the lab, late one night...
Let it be known that Kit loved her job: for one, it was a work-at-home gig, where she was free to wear a fluffy robe and her Kiki Kitty slippers and still be professional. Better yet, she was allowed to dictate her own research, so long as she kept in contact with the general academia at the University of Aekea. She had plenty of time to herself in a cozy home, and got a handsome check every time one of her papers was published (or re-published, in some instances). She'd even taking to collecting some of the evolving items out there on the market, since they were, after all, a diluted offshoot of her research. She was even currently working on a side-project about the effects of illegal Nartian immigration, and why their 'invasion' was better-received than that of the Zurg. Yes, it was a comfortable lifestyle, and one Kit had grown to adore in the last two years since her graduation.
Needless to say, it was a somewhat lonely existance.
She'd put her name on an applicant's list for adoption for some time, but didn't get a call back until late one muggy Aekea night. (Maybe it counted as early morning by that point--Kit lost track of the hours pretty easily). Deadlines were approaching for summer papers, and Kit was a meager five-hundred words from success (and her next paycheck) when her cell phone began to buzz on the paper-littered table. She picked up the small square of a phone, the caller ID showing some number she didn't recognize. Somewhat suspicious, she decided to answer the phone anyways, in the event that it happened to be someone she actually knew.
"Hello?"
"Hello, yes. Am I speaking with one 'Katherine Weathersby'?" The voice from the phone sounded masculine, and said her name like he had been reading it for the first time. This made the situation even sketchier for Kit, who had never heard the man's voice before. She thought about just hanging up on the spot, but decided to humor him, in case he decided to bestow her with some million-gold lottery jackpot.
"This is she," the young woman chimed, doing her best to sound cheerful and oblivious to how suspicious the whole ordeal was. "What can I help you with? Are you with the University?"
"No, I'm with a private lab...Could you please answer your door? I've been ringing the doorbell for the better part of an hour, and I know you're home."
This was the point where Kit had to draw the line: creepy phonecalls she could handle, but creepy phonecalls where the caller claimed to be on her front stoop? Nuh-uh. Not dealing with that. Kit was halfway to hanging up so that she could call the proper authorities when the man spoke again, perhaps aware of her sudden change of perception. "I assure you, Ms. Weathersby, that this is a legitimate business venture, and I think you'll be interested in what I have to say."
Kit paused, very much wanting to hang up the phone and be done with the whole ordeal, but something compelled her to remain on the line. "Can you give me a short version before I go outside in my pajamas?" Kit asked, convincing herself that her voice wasn't quivering.
"Well, Ms. Weathersby, if you really must know..."
"...Your application for adoption has been accepted, and provided you're willing, we can take you to the child now."
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Aug 24, 2009 9:54 am
I was working in the lab, late one night...
"I've read your work on Nartian immigration," said the tech as he showed Kit down a sterile-looking hall with cold ceiling-lamps illuminating the way. "Your claims are a little bold, considering the proximity of events involved, but I think you might be onto something with the bit on the mod lifestyle."
Kit wrinkled her nose as she looked upwards, not sure if she should take the previous statement as a compliment or an insult. After some thought, she settled on, "But my paper hasn't been published yet--the topic itself is still under review of the board." There was an implied 'How did you read it?' in her words, but Gambino forbid she speak as bold as her paper must have been.
"You sent a rough draft of the abstract along with your petition to the University," explained the tech, pushing his set of glasses further up his nose with a satisfied touch of one finger. "We have ways of getting such information."
Well. That explained things. However, it failed to make Kit any more comfortable with the situation, and miming the tech before her, she also pushed up her glasses, attempting to read the various signs and placards as they whisked by. "And you're an adoption agency?" Kit inquired, an eyebrow quirked as she looked back to the tech. After all, finding places for children did not require intel like something out of a James Bond movie.
"We always try to ensure our parental candidates are the most qualified for the child they receive, and especially in this case, we try to match parent to child based on strengths and weaknesses of each individual." The tech slowed his pace, running a swipe-card to unlock a door that looked no different from all the others in the white-washed hall.
"Especially in this case?" Now Kit was curious.
"The child in question could use the help of someone so..." The tech paused, looking down at her coffee-stained pajama bottoms and kiki kitty slippers with a bit of a frown. "...socially inclined, at least academically."
"I'm not sure I understand," Kit said, peering into the room.
The place was sparsely decorated, no bright colors or cheerful images that suggested that this was a children's place. It looked every bit as much of a labratory as the rest, with shelves of files and technical-looking books and more degrees plastered to the wall than Kit could count. In fact, Kit nearly opened her mouth to ask where the child was, when she saw the small white toddler on some sort of psychiatrist's reclining couch, her expression distant and blank.
"We've had to isolate her from the other children these past few hours," the tech explained, making no moves to suggest he was going near the child. "She hasn't responded well to them."
Kit stared, somewhat bewildered. The reality of it was beginning to all set in, now that there was a real, physical being before her. "...Does she have a name?"
"She will when you give her one."
Cautiously, Kit stepped forward to get a better look at the child. She looked cold, but maybe that was just the glossy tint of her skin in the medicinal blue light. There had always been a name in mind, names that Kit had set aside, one for a boy, and one for a girl. And this strange little child, whatever her problem, might actually be hers. She looked to the D-Tech. He watched with silent interest.
"...Jodie?" Kit asked to the girl.
The child did not move, nor so much as to look up and acknowledge Kit's existance.
Kit looked to the D-Tech again, worry lining her face. "She's been diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome, a lesser form of the autism spectrum," said the tech casually, as if he were announcing the day's weather. "We thought that with your knowledge of various cultures and social structures, you would be specifically equipped to help her understand ours." He motioned to the girl. "Could you do that? She's no dream child, but she could be yours."
Kit frowned as she looked to the couch, where the child had yet to stir. It was disconcerting, the lack of any sort of feeling from the girl, and in a moment of weakness, Kit nearly refused. But she had always wanted a child. And damn it all, she needed to help this girl. Perhaps others would be more qualified, but the company had chosen her. That meant she could do this right.
"...Where do I sign the forms?" said Kit with a resigned sigh, rubbing her eyes. It was going to be a long night indeed.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jan 03, 2010 9:04 pm
Katherine Weathersby
Observation Log 1
"In Regards to Jodie's Progress"
January 3, 2010
Final draft of the Nartian paper out, I have decided to swivel my focus and document Jodie's progress in the way I know best: academically.
Her first few days home did not go as smoothly as planned. At certain intervals throughout the day, she would begin weeping hysterically as if in pain, without any sort of cause. Given that she was not capable of speech, she could not relay the true cause, and it was only on the end of the second day after extensive reading on typical Asperger's childhood behaviour that I called the lab asking for reports on her daily schedule. Once I conformed to her usual eating and sleeping times, Jodie became much more acclimated to the environment around her.
However, the artifacts in the living room of the first floor often distress her. It is because of this reason that I have given Jodie her own room on the second floor, painted white to match the labs. She seems to be the most at ease in there, and as I begin to learn of her preferences, I've modified the room to suit her interests. Currently, the room is bare of any furniture save her bed, a small armoir, and her toybox. She takes no interest in any of the toys I have presented to her, but appears especially fond of paper. She will use crayons (not colored pencils--that was a mistake) occasionally, but does not seem to notice the pictures in her coloring book or color remotely in the lines. This seems to be typical for children of her age, so I have hope.
In the past few weeks, I've begun to push the edges of her comfort zone in an effort to get her to open up to the world around her. She doesn't seem to like it much, and my efforts are slow-moving to prevent her from as many meltdowns as possible. So far, she will go outside without complaint as long as it is overcast, but does not seem to like mid-day or overly bright colors much. With the help of a few instructional videos, I've gotten her to learn about 100 words, and even if she won't form sentences yet, I still feel it's a vast improvement. She still shows no affluence to any sort of written language.
Still, I feel what she needs the most is the company of those her own age. For months now, I've been hesitant to call the labs, but it can't be avoided any longer. Jodie has to learn by experience, and while she is opening up to me more and more every day (there have been short instances of eye contact, though I doubt she catches the significance of it), she needs to be thrown into the water to learn how to swim, metaphorically speaking. I only hope the labs will be able to help set up a playdate with a child that won't push her buttons too badly.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
