She’s making plans for her lunch break when the eleven o’clock appointment finally shows. Elizabeth Price is a quiet, meek thing, dressed in washed out florals and varnished in foundation a shade too pale for her. She’s easily overshadowed by her husband, Sheriff Grayson Price, whose hand rests against Elizabeth’s back as he guides her forward.
She sets her bag down and boots the computer back up, smiling her best customer service smile.
“Appointment for Price,” Sheriff Price says, leaning against the desk counter.
“Ah yes, the eleven o’clock,” she says without waiting for a response. She looks at the clock pointedly. “It’s nearly an hour past. The doctor is currently out on his lunch break, and afterwards we have a patient coming in at 1 o’clock. I can put you down for 3 o’clock?”
“Are you sure you can’t bump us up to one o’clock...” He looks at her nametag.
“...Willow? I was dropping her off when some idiot ran a red light right in front of us. Had to make a bit of a detour... civic duty, what can I say?” Sheriff Price says with a loud, bellowing laugh.
Willow certainly wasn’t going to say no to the chief of police. She nods like she has a choice, that she’s happy to make the change, that she doesn’t hate bullies like Sheriff Price. She nods and pointedly doesn’t look at his badge. She knows she’d just give herself away.
“Of course, Sheriff Price,” Willow says. “How sweet of you to drop your wife off. Are you off duty right now?”
“Unfortunately no, wasn’t able to get the time off. I just wanted to make sure everything’s in place before your surgery,” he says, directing the last bit to Mrs. Price. He kisses her cheek, and Willow watches as he ruins a spot of Mrs. Price’s immaculate foundation.
“Take care sweetie, I’ll pick you up afterwards.”
Mrs. Price nods wordlessly, and the two of them watch him leave.
Willow sets up the tablet for her. “I’ll just need you to sign the waiver for me, as well as fill out the desired personality modifications. The doctor should be back within the hour to see you.”
Mrs. Price takes the tablet with a soft “thank you” and goes to sit in the waiting room. In the meantime, Willow dials up the 1 o’clock appointment to let them know they’ve been moved to 3:00.
After a couple minutes, Mrs. Price comes back with the tablet. Willow scrolls through to make sure she’s filled everything out, and spends a little more time than she should looking at the personality specs.
![['auto']](https://storage.googleapis.com/ubyssey/media/renditions/wonder_how_easy_it_is_2.original.png)
And so the list goes on.
“Not a lot of modifications,” Willow says. “That’s good, the operation shouldn’t take too long.”
“It’s not the first time I’ve had it done,” Mrs. Price says. “Grayson thinks the change will be good for me. The doctor thinks so, too.”
It explains the referral in her files, but little else. Willow finds herself curious.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what were your previous specs?”
“Oh,” Mrs. Price says softly, like she’s surprised someone would ask. “Honest, loyal, obedient, and forgiving. I didn’t react very well to it; after the operation, I was quite... unstable. The doctor thinks that cheerful and talkative should help.”
“Why,” Willow asks slowly, beginning to piece things together, “did you pick those specs? It’s a bit of an unusual combination.”
There’s a flicker of hesitation in Mrs. Price’s expression, but she’s honest. Obedient. “Grayson thought it would be a good fit.”
“Did you?” Willow asks, and she doesn’t mean for her question to come out as sharply as it does, but Mrs. Price flinches all the same.
“Sorry,” Willow says, pitching her voice into something low and soothing. “I just want to know if you’re 100% sure about these modifications. You can pick whatever you’d like, after all. Are you sure you want to be more... Willful?”
“I—” Mrs. Price stutters. “I don’t think I should, not without discussing it with Grayson.” Her eyes subconsciously flicker to the sides, as though he were hovering right behind her, the weight of his hand against her back.
Willow wonders what type of leash it is, that keeps Mrs. Price so quiet. Loyalty or fear.
“Grayson tells me really good things about the surgery,” Mrs. Price says, picking at the threads of her cardigan. “It just didn’t go well the first time, is all.”
Of course Sheriff Grayson would be an advocate, Willow thinks. It’s done miracles for criminal reform, after all.
It was tested and developed by inmates too, ten years ago. And now, just last year, they made it available to the public. Willow likes her job, likes helping the people that come in hating themselves, only to leave happy and comfortable in their own skin. But sometimes she wonders how long it’ll take the government to properly regulate it. Wonders how long it’ll take the government to start capitalizing on it.
“...Have you ever had the surgery?” Mrs. Price asks, startling Willow out of her thoughts.
“Nope,” Willow says with a shake of her head, “It sounds strange, considering my line of work, but I don’t think you need surgery to change yourself. There are other ways you can go about it.”
Mrs. Price tilts her head just slightly. “What do you mean?”
“Personality is instilled, not inherent. You beat a dog every time it barks, it learns to stay quiet.”
Willow watches Mrs. Price reflexively touch her own cheek– the side that Sheriff Price had kissed. Willow knows it’s the same side, because there’s a faded bruise where the foundation had smudged.
“Mrs. Price, are you sure you need to add talkative? We’ve been talking for quite a bit,” Willow says, not unkindly. “Sometimes, when you reinforce already existing traits, it can result in side effects like fatigue, nausea, anxiety... even depression in some cases. That might’ve been what happened to you, the first time around.”
“Oh... well in that case, I’d like to change it, if that’s alright,” Mrs. Price says, reaching for the tablet. Her hand trembles, and Willow feels only a little bad for what she’s about to do.
“No worries, it’s a quick fix. I can do it for you if you’d like,” Willow says, pulling up the appropriate page. She takes the tablet pen and under Mrs. Price’s gaze, her hand deliberately spasms.
“Whoops, my hand slipped. So sorry about that,” Willow says, not very apologetically, as she erases the circle around talkative.
Mrs. Price doesn’t react at first, just looks long and hard at the list. Then, finally, she looks to Willow and meets her eye for the first time entering the clinic. “That’s alright, dearie. Thank you.”
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Willow watches as Mrs. Price sits back down to wait for her operation, and wonders if this is how God felt, when he created man. Wonders if it was empathy, or curiosity that forced her hand. Wonders how different this makes her from Sheriff Price.
Days later, Willow hears on the news that Mrs. Price took Sheriff Price’s gun and shot him while he slept. She’s smiling in her mugshot.