[Theres a dual tone when he speaks, a reverberation, two versions of him: the louder voice calm, even, the quiet echo screaming.]
--motherfucking-- // I don't know why they followed me. I don't know what they expected. // --that's not my name that's not my name I can't fucking say my name-- // I saw the writing on the wall. // I'll tear you apart you sons of whores-- // So I burned it down before they could.
[ Hmm. That could, after all, mean that he'd finished up the job for them or that he'd decided they all had to die for what they'd done. She's not sure the real answer can be uncovered, given the scattered and broken way he's been answering. She's sad to say it reminds her more of Nightingale than anything. ]
[Ironically, that's the first wash of clarity she'll get.]
I promised him. // He wanted his family to know how much he loved them, how long they kept him going. // He wanted me to meet them. // We never thought I'd do it alone.
[ If she was anywhere else, she'd push. If she wasn't doing this just to assure people's safety, she'd push. If he wasn't here to get better and people wouldn't wake up if he killed them (as much as she doesn't want him to kill anyone ever again), she'd push.
But she knows what that means. And her heart aches. ]
You told his family what he wanted them to know? How did that go?
--I'm sorry about this-- // I told them. // --I'm really sorry about this-- // His sister wanted to know more. Looked for it. // --I'm really, really sorry about this-- // His little brother had stars in his eyes, wanted me to know. // I left her the gun, I forgot about the knife, but fuck I'm proud of them, Caleb would be proud of them. // He would understand. He wouldn't forgive, but he'd understand.
And he didn't really want to live. It's a leap, but she's going as much from the voices as from the words, from the feel. It's how she's always done this; sometimes, she wonders if this framework obscures as much as it reveals. ]
Do you know if they survived? The sister and the brother.
[ The lack of mention of the others makes her hesitant to ask about them. She's reasonably certain of what the answer is. ]
Back to business. She's got some idea of what's going on, and the severity of his programming; it's definitely nothing she wants anyone to tangle with. Instead-]
Let's get back to the... the programming. The compulsions you have.
What are your limitations? What directives do you have to follow?
[ And she'll be pushing for specifics, for tangible lines. ]
What do they mean I won't heal? // Limitations aren't exactly their style, are they. // Not used to this any more. // Obedience is a priority. // Not used to being this weak. // Protecting the experiment is a priority. // Intangible, what does that mean, intangible, what's that going to do if I can't execute on an imperative? // I can defer, I can't refuse.
[What she gets this time doesn't sound like him. Or rather, his voice is there, but it's buried, buried under layers of strangers and voices that sound only passably human, like he's heard some version of this repeated so often that the words are carved into every part of him that can carry them.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
makethestory) wrote2024-02-23 11:51 pm
no subject
--motherfucking-- // I don't know why they followed me. I don't know what they expected. // --that's not my name that's not my name I can't fucking say my name-- // I saw the writing on the wall. // I'll tear you apart you sons of whores-- // So I burned it down before they could.
no subject
no subject
no subject
Tell me about the promise. Was it to Caleb?
no subject
I promised him. // He wanted his family to know how much he loved them, how long they kept him going. // He wanted me to meet them. // We never thought I'd do it alone.
no subject
Tell me about Caleb. Who was he to you?
no subject
Finally:]
Don't ask, don't tell.
no subject
But she knows what that means. And her heart aches. ]
You told his family what he wanted them to know? How did that go?
no subject
--I'm sorry about this-- // I told them. // --I'm really sorry about this-- // His sister wanted to know more. Looked for it. // --I'm really, really sorry about this-- // His little brother had stars in his eyes, wanted me to know. // I left her the gun, I forgot about the knife, but fuck I'm proud of them, Caleb would be proud of them. // He would understand. He wouldn't forgive, but he'd understand.
no subject
But they didn't have much of a choice.
And he didn't really want to live. It's a leap, but she's going as much from the voices as from the words, from the feel. It's how she's always done this; sometimes, she wonders if this framework obscures as much as it reveals. ]
Do you know if they survived? The sister and the brother.
[ The lack of mention of the others makes her hesitant to ask about them. She's reasonably certain of what the answer is. ]
no subject
Told him he did the right thing. // Yes. // Told him not to feel bad. // Smart, tough. They'll be okay.
no subject
Back to business. She's got some idea of what's going on, and the severity of his programming; it's definitely nothing she wants anyone to tangle with. Instead-]
Let's get back to the... the programming. The compulsions you have.
What are your limitations? What directives do you have to follow?
[ And she'll be pushing for specifics, for tangible lines. ]
no subject
no subject
What does 'protecting the experiment' mean?
no subject
no subject
...and what happens if they find out... but you can't do anything about that?
no subject
no subject
She ends the session with a shake of her head and a definite need to figure out what she's going to do with this information. ]