Getting it done...

Ok. My ass is in the chair. Finally. 8:17 a.m. I've got a cup of tea in front of me. I've had my morning English Muffin and a single piece of candy corn. The kidlet is off to school. The dishwasher is running. I have a dozen eggs on the boil. The husband got a movie for me last night. Afterlife with Justin Long. He's such a cutie. It's a redbox rental so I need to watch it today and return it today. So, I guess I'm going out for a bit. I need to go by Lowes to get a pull cord for the Troybilt. It finally snapped while the husband was tilling the foundation bed at the front of the house. Have a few other errands as well. But that's neither here nor there. I need to get into the habit of writing everyday. For NaNoWriMo and beyond. So here goes:

A girl of thirteen or fourteen is sitting slumped in a chair. She is pale. People in lab coats are milling around her, woodenly performing their duties as if she was just another piece of equipment in the small room. Her head is covered in something like a swimmer's cap with multicolored dots. Each dot equipped with a docking port for electrodes. A middleaged woman with hair the color of tarnished brass is inserting a hypo into each dock, filling the cavity with a cold gel to ensure proper contact of electrode and scalp. The girl yawns sleepily. This was nothing new to her. Same crap, different day. Soon they would pull a rolling metal table in front of her that held a flat computer screen. The deep blue background would be replaced by a screensaver. Usually the geometric lines that bounced around the edges of the screen. Her eyes would be drawn to that, lazily tracking the movement. In her head she would pretend that a bell would toll with each collision. Sometimes she imagined she could manipulate the shape to play a song in her head.
The brassy haired lab tech reached behind the girl and pulled a wig of wires up over her head. This was snapped in place and each wire was secured in each receiving dock so that she looked like an adolescent Medusa. She could almost hear the hissing of the electrodes like so many sibilant snakes. The woman stepped back. "Okay?" she asked. The girl knew she didn't expect a response, negative or otherwise. She wondered what they would do if she said 'no'. The woman smiled, a dry practiced movement of her lips that was clinical and without meaning.

Ok, have other things to do today. Later.