Misunderstood Monsters

Chapter 11: Interview

Carson adjusted his ever-present helmet. "Are they sure about this? I know that 096 didn't attack Dr. Collingwood when she looked at it, but... you know."

Lawrence shrugged. "She looked at it twice, and she's still breathing, so I guess that part went away. Come on, let's go."

John looked up as the door to his cell was opened. Two men stepped in. One had a helmet on  while the other didn't.

"Alright 096, or John, I guess, time to go."

John raised a brow. "Lawrence?"

The helmet-less one stopped. "How do you know my name?"

"I've heard your voice before."

"Come on, guys, the longer we keep waiting the more pissed Buck's gonna be." Carson gestured with his head out of the cell.

"Alright, I'm coming."

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John looked around the room. The wall to his right had a large window and there was a door at the wall opposite to him. He'd been seated at a plain wooden table with two chairs.

The door slid open and a tallish blonde woman walked in, scowling. John quickly stood up and held out a hand.

"I-I assume you're Dr. Buck?" His voice came out quieter and more nervous than he'd liked. Calm down, John. You practiced this about a few thousand times. You can't screw this up now. "You probably know me as SCP-096, b-but I prefer John."

"Good morning... John." She didn't seem to see his hand. He didn't mind though. He wasn't exactly used to the whole "shaking hands" thing.

Dr. Buck pulled out a clipboard and set it on the table.

"Where did you come from?"

"Pardon?"

"Your origin, John. Do you know?"

"U-Um, no. I absolutely have no idea where I came from or how I came to be."

"Well, if you don't remember where you came from, what's the very earliest thing you remember?"

"Well, I remember trying to climb up a tree and... well... I fell off and landed on my head. I'm pretty sure that fall is the reason why I don't remember my origin."

Dr. Buck glanced down at her clipboard.

"Alright then, are you familiar with any other anomalies or anomalous phenomena?"

"Y-Yes, some. 682, Billy, a few of the 939 instances, 035, 2191-3, and a few others."

"Very well, what do you know?"

"682 is one of the sons of the Scarlet King, Billy is much, much older than you think, everything or almost everything 035 says is a lie, and the 939 specimens are actually sapient. I can also confirm that this hypothetical SCP-2191-3 is very much real. I've seen it with my own eyes."

"What do you know about SCP-001, if you know anything about it at all?"

John drummed his fingers on the table. "Well, I do know about the - how many interpretations of 001 are there, dozens?- the Gate Guardian, the Factory, and the Spiral Path, but I don't believe that they are the true 001. No. It's a different SCP, I'm sure of it. I'm not gonna say it, though. It's not what you think. After all, what's the best way to hide the true identity of SCP-001? Don't classify it as SCP-001."

Dr. Buck looked thunderstruck for a moment, before stuttering out a reply. "How do you know-"

"Don't ask, I won't tell. But I can tell you that it wasn't from reading the archives of any anomalous organization."

"Alright then, next question. Why, prior to," she cleared her throat, "that containment breach did you attack people who saw your face, and why did you cease doing so after that particular containment breach?"

John blinked, swallowed hard, then put his head down on the table.

"SCP-096?"

He ignored it.

"John?"

Don't think about it don't think about it don't think about it don't about it-

"Are you going to answer the question?"

John's head snapped up.

"If you want to know so badly, then why don't you go ask SCP-049?!" John roared as he slammed a fist into the table. Dr. Buck jumped and the speaker blared.

"SCP-096, remain passive!"

John took a deep breath. "I-I'm sorry, it's just... I don't want to talk about it."

"Moving on," Dr. Buck continued. "Do you have any regrets?"

John stared at her for a second, then let out a bitter laugh.

"Ask anyone who's lived as long as I have that same question. If they say no, then I say they're either lying or a sociopath."

"Mm-hm. Why did you never try communicating to us if you were sapient the whole time?"

"I..." John sighed. "I really didn't want to hurt anyone, and I doubted if anyone would listen."

"The former is understandable. Now, you did seem to imply earlier that you have lived for a significant amount of time. How old are you exactly?"

John pushed back his chair. "I... don't know exactly, but I do remember being around when humanity's first ancestors climbed down from the trees after I had fully grown up."

"Hm. Interesting. What do you think about humanity?"

"Well... I... I don't exactly know how to explain this, so bear with me. I've spent most of my life alone, just avoiding everyone, doubly so after I started having those uncontrollable rages. So I'm not entirely sure what my opinion really is. It's kind of... a confused pity-admiration. Confused because I have no idea how your kind managed to survive more than a few decades, pity because you have to live in a world like this, and admiration because of... well, all the things you invented. You've committed horrific atrocities against yourselves which still give me nightmares to this day, yet you've also done great things. In some ways, humanity is the greatest anomaly of all."

"Very... philosophical for someone who never learned philosophy," Dr. Buck remarked.

John shrugged. "It was the best way I could explain it."

"Anyways. What is your connection to SCP-049?"

John put his head down on the table again. "I knew you would ask that," he mumbled.

"So-"

"Next question."

"John-"

"Next question. Please," he pleaded.

Dr. Buck glanced down at her clipboard again. "What are your thoughts on the Foundation?"

"That... is also complicated. I feel the Foundation does many horrific things, but sadly, they are often the only thing that can be done. Procedure 110-Montauk was, as the Ethics Committee ruled, the least cruel thing that could be done in order to you-know-what. That's the level we're talking about here."

"How do you-"

"Don't think that I never pay attention to anything happening outside my cell. I can hear your gossip."

"Well..." Dr. Buck looked at her clipboard one last time. "That's the end of it."

"Nothing more to ask me?"

"No.

"Okay then. Hope you have a good day, Dr. Buck."

"You too, John."