He hadn't asked Connors to sign any documents, stating that Connors understood all what was about to happen and that he agreed, without being coerced into said agreement, to the consequences. Chilton hadn't asked Connors to sign anything like that, because it would be acknowledging a paper trail that Chilton did not want existing. Not yet, anyway, not when he still was lurking in vague, nebulous territory with his ambitious psychiatric schemes. The trust he had built with Connors -- trust and honesty, as displayed and exchanged throughout their sessions together -- now paid in dividends. Whatever questions that might arise in the scientist's mind, Chilton wasn't worried about them; those queries faced being questioned in turn, by the length of factual, concrete kindness that Chilton had exhibited as a psychiatrist.
He wasn't sure if that kindness he had embodied was necessarily insincere. Chilton did like Connors, as a person, he thought the other man to be amicable and engaging, and clearly remarkable in his discipline. But Connors the Peer, or even Connors the Patient, was not the same as Connors the Experiment. Not to Frederick Chilton.
Chilton, almost gleefully, opened the last small window panel, and shoved in the electrical prod. The cage was locked, and padlocked. The prod sizzled with a sickly crackle, snarling with voltage.
And Chilton thrust the balled end of the prod into Connor's back.
no subject
He hadn't asked Connors to sign any documents, stating that Connors understood all what was about to happen and that he agreed, without being coerced into said agreement, to the consequences. Chilton hadn't asked Connors to sign anything like that, because it would be acknowledging a paper trail that Chilton did not want existing. Not yet, anyway, not when he still was lurking in vague, nebulous territory with his ambitious psychiatric schemes. The trust he had built with Connors -- trust and honesty, as displayed and exchanged throughout their sessions together -- now paid in dividends. Whatever questions that might arise in the scientist's mind, Chilton wasn't worried about them; those queries faced being questioned in turn, by the length of factual, concrete kindness that Chilton had exhibited as a psychiatrist.
He wasn't sure if that kindness he had embodied was necessarily insincere. Chilton did like Connors, as a person, he thought the other man to be amicable and engaging, and clearly remarkable in his discipline. But Connors the Peer, or even Connors the Patient, was not the same as Connors the Experiment. Not to Frederick Chilton.
Chilton, almost gleefully, opened the last small window panel, and shoved in the electrical prod. The cage was locked, and padlocked. The prod sizzled with a sickly crackle, snarling with voltage.
And Chilton thrust the balled end of the prod into Connor's back.