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Show 24 Afterwards, there is nothing to do but watch; Maia pours two mugs of coffee from the little china pot, and she and Boaz sit in the chairs at their desks, swiveled outward. The dogs move, free, around the room, though always at a distance from the experimental box, as if they do not understand why they are not tied to the file drawer, or harnessed up inside the box. Theresa is already distinctly slower, as if burdened by some weight; she lies for a moment on a pile of rags in the corner, and Mustard sniffs uncertainly beneath her tail. She struggles up again, but her hind legs drag; she pulls herself forward a little, then turns and drags her legs back towards the pile of rags. She does not reach it. Maia sees her fall; unsure, she stands, aware that Boaz is watching her, and pulls Theresa gently over to the rags, so that her head and forepaws rest upon them. Maia looks into the dog's eyes, as if perhaps expecting gratitude, but they are growing glassy. Theresa fights for breath in short small shallow gasps, but as the drug overcomes her, her breaths grow long and wholly automatic. She does not move again. "One down," observes Boaz, his voice flat. "And two to go," answers Maia, her tone equally artificial. They do not look at each other. Mustard and Pablo, heavier, healthier dogs, take longer to succumb; they stumble and dance, they slide down and fight back up, their legs slipping out from under them as they stagger sideways; they slurp water from the tin dish until they can no longer control their tongues, they |