Fatima went to the corner of the clinic, retrieved something from a plastic crate and returned, standing before Priscilla.
“Okay,†Fatima said, “hold your hands out in front of you.â€
Priscilla complied, looked down at Fatima’s hands and saw she was holding a pile of chain. Fatima pulled what looked like an open cuff from the pile and placed it against Priscilla’s wrist.
Priscilla jerked her hand away as if the metal were unbearably hot. “What’s that?†she demanded.
“Your restraints,†Fatima replied.
“What are they for?†Priscilla asked, and she backed up until she hit the exam table with her bare bottom.
“I need to restrain you,†Fatima said, as if the answer were obvious.
“Why?†Priscilla asked.
“To go to the lab,†Fatima said.
Her mask was still covering her mouth, but her eyes registered surprise as Priscilla looked into them.
“I’m not going to the lab,†Priscilla asserted, and she looked at the place on the floor where she had dropped her clothes, but there was nothing there now.
“I’m sorry, Honey,†Fatima said softly. “The appraisal’s done. You passed. You’ve got your number.â€
“But,†Priscilla said, otherwise speechless.
“Please hold out your hands,†Fatima repeated.