“The Foundation fights monsters, okay? And when you fight shit that can turn your ‘friends’ on you faster than you can blink, you can’t hesitate about shooting them.”
Benson hesitated. MacLean was looking a little red again. “…I see. And so, after that, you began avoiding contact…. With all other people? Or just the taskforces?”
“I didn’t meet many people outside the taskforces, but I shunned them too. I was polite and business-like and that was it; no humanity anymore.”
“That’s understandable. Tell me about this ‘mech’ though… What happened to it?”
“We dismantled it. The techies figured it wasn’t sentient, or anything like that, it just had a simple AI designed to protect whoever was inside by literally shooting anything that moved. The thing overrode the controls whenever anyone got inside, but deleting the program made the controls useless too. The O5’s figured that if we really needed walking tanks we could probably build our own, less glitchy ones.”
“Did you, in fact, build your own?”
MacLean frowned and took on a more aggressive tone of voice. “Doc, you’ve already asked me, and I said no. No means no. Stop asking me the same damn questions!”
Doctor Benson looked surprised. “…I don’t recall asking this question before,” he said, after a few moments’ pause.
“Yeah, well…” MacLean fidgeted in his chair, “…The answer is still no.”
You did ask. I know you asked. You asked… Why can’t I remember?
Dr. Benson shuffled some papers on his desk and pulled out a notepad, consulting something written on it. “Never mind that, then,” he said, without looking up. “Tell me about, err… this magnetic gun. You’ve actually got armor-penetrating portable gauss guns?”
MacLean’s frown grew deeper. “Yes, we do, and no, I don’t know anything else about them! I told you already!”
Again and again and again, you asked… You wouldn’t stop asking until I answered.
Dr. Benson looked up with a troubled expression. “I see… Well… I think that’s enough for today. We can continue another time.”
MacLean snorted as he stood up. “Yeah, sure,” he said, with that distinct intonation that conveyed the phrase “Fuck you,” without directly expressing it. He muttered something under his breath as he walked towards the door and slammed it on his way out.
Dr. Benson sighed and talked at the blank space in MacLean’s chair for the benefit of the recording. “Right… Evidently the rapport needs further development before MacLean will be receptive to talking about the Foundation’s armaments in greater detail. It also may be advisable to increase the dosage… a stoned and unreliable MacLean is still more useful to us than an angry MacLean, I’m sure. This concludes the interview for May 1st.”
