@sofialamb your post made me remember this fic i wrote like… a year ago? back when my url was still subjectsigmas. i think you prompted it, actually?
anyway, it hasn’t been posted on here yet, so
Sofia drums her pen against the table, sighs, jots down a note in a patient’s file. Rapture, for all its promise and splendor, makes its people no happier than they had been on the surface. If anything, those she meets are less happy, less stable. Special care must taken when people are removed from sunlight for so long, confined to close quarters, but there’s no profit to be had in it, and so Ryan will do nothing.
Her caseload has more than doubled in the past year alone; where working late into the night was once a rare occurrence, it’s now a daily habit. The work is manageable, but only if—
“Mummy?” pipes a child’s voice – high, frightened – and a small hand tugs urgently on Sofia’s skirt. Eleanor. Her results on standard intelligence tests surpass most adults, yet in her nightgown, with her face sheet-white with fear, she looks no different from any common child. (Sofia’s only daughter is anything but common.)