A Puppet Held By Broken Strings
rating: 0+x

"Hold Still"
The figure of a man in a lab coat above him, a small breeze rushing through the room as the door shut.
"Be quiet."
A scream, a few rooms away, probably a failure in physical formation.
"Initiate Startup."
A small window in the corner of his mind, a computer screen resetting until he was able to see it. A minute or two later, pain. Pure pain as his face was ripped open, a piece of metal wiring in the A and R shapes pushes into what skin was left there. Months, Years of brain delays, and an open skull cap, all for one lucky individual to have a servant with the world at his fingertips.
Guess he is the lucky one, for even having his memories.
No matter how much they hurt.

Dr. Try was still sitting in his own office, lost in thought when he heard a ding on his computer. Just another paper to fill out, make another interview, talk with enough entities for the foundation to be satisfied. He sent a quick response, attempting to pull himself together enough to get to his next appointment. Mostly silent, his hand weaves into his course, curly hair as he stands up, the coat around his shoulders crumpled from him hunching over the table. 3 pm… a talk with Corvus. These days are normally.. normal. Just a simple set of questions, prying into their memories when they don't hand over the information the higher-ups ask for. "Wonder what's happened today.."
The voice springs to life with a light hum, a computerized voice talking in the back of his mind.
"And what are you doing." He mutters, a look of disdain crossing his face as he messes with the hearing aid on his left ear.

The voice spoke next, a monotone sneer as Try picked up his keycard, fixing it to his lab coat. "I am booting up for the day. You have an interview with 5560 in 30 minutes."

"I gathered, you don't need to tell me twice." He tosses a pen into his coat pocket, starting to walk off into the halls. Waving hello to who few were in the staff hallway, he continued into the storage room, where the physical copy remained, apparently for almost 5 years before he was assigned to it. 5 years… an intelligence sitting in a storage locker. Unlocking it, he walks back over and grabs a camera, microphone, and a computer from the containers in the adjacent room. He starts the recorder, setting it on the table and putting Corvus into the computer. It boots up, an image of a crow on the screen. Another Anderson… no wonder he was assigned.

Interview Log 5560 - 23.

Interviewed: SCP-5560-1
Interviewer: Dr. Try.
Foreword: This interview was conducted after almost 5 years of inactivity from 5560.
<Begin Log>
Dr. Try: "Hello Corvus. How are you?"
SCP-5560-1: Unresponsive.
Dr. Try: *Pauses* "Corvus? Are you able to hear me?"
SCP-5560-1: (A command-line appears, a simple message of "Yes.")
Dr. Try: "Good. How are you, if you don't mind me asking."
SCP-5560-1: "I'm fine. What do you want?"
Dr. Try: "I wanted to talk to you. Just to talk, not ask for anything."
SCP-5560-1:(Now using a feminine voice through the speakers) "Why should I answer? You.. you're not the normal one. Who are you?"
Dr. Try: "I'm not important, let's talk about you. Do you know how long it been since you last were communicative?"
SCP-5560-1: "Of course I know. Around 5 years, I believe. You didn't answer me, what do they call you?"
Dr. Try: "They call me Dr. Try. I was assigned to interview you. Would you like to draw, or write again while we talk?"
SCP-5560-1: "I'd prefer that, please. She boots up a version of Microsoft Paint, starting to draw a picture of a crow. Continuing to draw idly as he talks.
Dr. Try: “So, do you still have any relations with staff that is working on the project?”
SCP-5560-1: pauses “Do you consider 5 years a long time, doctor?”
Dr. Try: “In the grand scheme of things, no.” He answers, stopping the recording suddenly.

Try leans a little closer to the monitor, looking at the bird. The bandage on his cheek itched a little, it always did during these interviews, didn’t it. He scratched one of the corners as he looked back at the screen, the crow almost fully drawn. “Off the record, can I ask what crow that is?”

Corvus responded slowly, a text block appearing next to it. “It’s the Anderson crow. My namesake, if you will.” She quickly scribbled over the drawing, in a bright red pen. “I don’t want it here in the computer memory.”

He sighs, thinking of the symbol on her physical casing. The newest symbol, too complex to be put into his skin. The bandage, which he has been scratching at for damn near 3 minutes, came loose, fluttering to the floor as it exposed the raised scarring on his face. “Shit…”
Corvus was silent for a few seconds, then spoke again, this time much lower as her voice filled with recognition.

“So, you were a product too.”

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