Character Analysis
S.Q., in addition to having a great name (check out the discussion of names in the "Tools of Characterization" section for more on that), appears to have a heart of gold. He's always kind to the MBSers, and unlike Jackson and Jillson, who appear to enjoy reprimanding other students, S.Q. always uses a gentle tone when he needs to enforce a rule.
When he hears Reynie and Sticky talking in their room at night, for instance, he says, "You fellows need to keep it down. […] You're new, so I thought perhaps you wouldn't understand the rules" (12.33). And after explaining the rules, he finishes, "Okay, just so you know. Have a good night now" (12.35), in his typically friendly tone.
In addition to speaking kindly to everyone (even Martina Crowe), S.Q. really doesn't seem to understand what's going on around him, and therefore it's hard to hold him responsible for aiding in the brainwashing of so many students. The poor guy's been brainwashed himself, and he's so naïve (and yes—dimwitted) that he actively participates in his own re-brainwashing every time he gets confused about what he's supposed to believe.
As he tells Martina after one of Mr. Curtain's explanations, "Isn't it great? […] I get goosebumps every time I learn it" (31.44). In this way, S.Q. provides a lot of comic relief, but he's also a pretty sad character. Why? Because S.Q. is extremely susceptible to propaganda—even when he hears something that doesn't sound right to him, like the idea that Mr. Curtain plans to use Sweepers to bury people's memories, he can't hold onto his train of thought long enough to do anything with it.
He gets off to a good start when he inquires, "Shouldn't we be asking people's permission? I mean, if we're putting things in their heads, shouldn't we ask them first?" (31.75). But he's quickly tripped up by Mr. Curtain's oversimplification of the issue: "If we ask permission, S.Q., then it doesn't work. Do you want people to be happy, or don't you?" (31.76). And if you know S.Q. at all, you know the answer to that—of course he does. He's like a puppy. (A puppy with really big feet.)