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Robin!
...
Robin, this Ethel Sorensen.. Are you still there?
...
I don't understand.
You've finally concentrated enough to commune with me for the first time since January.
It's June.
And now you don't even want to talk.
Not really.
So why did you even bother to contact me?
I saw my chance to take a few deep breaths to calm down.
I forgot that it leads to... whatever this is.
Why haven't you contacted me?
You know I can help you with him!
I have to relax to contact you.
Are you saying you somehow can't?!
Yes.
Dr. Summers had to get his appendix taken out today.
Combine his daily presence with the fact that I'm on Month Six of being skin-fucked by our mutual friend...
Now that Doc's off today, this was the first opportunity since we talked that I could center myself.
...
So, he's had that much of an effect on you.
I'm sorry to hear that.
And you're just figuring this out now?
I was under the impression that you could see through my eyes and ears.
Well, we aren't always watching.
I'm not about to spy on you on the toilet.
And besides, most of us in the Viper's belly were too busy waiting for you to make contact.
Don't forget — there were more powerful secrets I could have shared with you if you'd have concentrated harder.
And what's stopping you from just telling me outright?
Because without looking at our memories, it would just be claims without evidence.
Just like someone else you're dealing with...
Fuck that. Just tell me.
I'm too goddamn tired to worry about thought experiments.
...you were the last person I'd expect to talk to me like that.
...
That was really rude of me.
I'll do better.
No, I'm not offended, just surprised.
Though, considering what you're being put through, just imagine how you'll talk in six more months.
I'd rather not imagine that.
Didn't he say he wanted to "turn you into a good person" or something?
Yesterday, he said there's no longer any point to that.
That I'm too much like my dad.
The closest thing I can come to being good is "being honest about my nature" or something.
That's why he's gonna put me through Mall Talk next week.
What?
Multiple times. Apparently there's a bunch of 20-Murgatroyd stuff covered in doing it.
And at this point...
Honestly, maybe I didn't have a choice.
Maybe my dad's pants are just that powerful.
...Mall talk?
Jeans, I think they call 'em. Y'know, like jeanetics.
His magical crime pants are so tight around my legs that I was never gonna take 'em off in the first place.
Maybe I'm doing what I was meant to be doing the whole time.
So why does it still make me wanna puke when I look in a mirror? Why does it —
ROBIN.
You can finish the soliloquy in a second, I promise.
But I just realized something, and this might be an emergency.
All right.
...I mean, okie-dokie.
Just out of curiosity...
By "mall talk", did you mean —
Now that I think about it, the actual word might have been "Montock".
FUCKINGSHITTINGPISSINGPUKINGCUMMING
...
Robin. Buddy.
Do you know what you'd have to do for Procedure 110-Montauk?
Not a clue.
Good! Keep it that way. Don't practice.
Because ethical implications aside, you are the absolute last person who should participate.
Many positive descriptors can be truthfully applied to you. "Careful" is not one of them, nor is "resolute."
One mistake, one display of hesitation, and it would set off the Rube Goldberg machine that ends the world.
First, the explosive collar around your neck would detonate.
The Viper would land on whoever you're standing nearest, which leads to a one-in-six chance of SCP-231-7 being the next host.
She is in no condition to survive attachment.
Her death would trigger her child to quite literally explode out of her womb.
Everyone else dies in the explosion.
The viper searches for its next target.
Finds the baby.
The baby survives attachment because it's the son of the goddamned Scarlet King.
The baby gains access to the memories of every dead Foundation Administrator. Our last modicum of hope dies.
...
Look, maybe Dr. Summers is bluffing.
But if there's even a chance that he somehow sucked enough O5 dick to bypass the special personnel requirements in the name of finding a new way to break your spirit...
...
Robin?
Yeah?
Have you been looking for an excuse to kill Dr. Summers?
What?!
Merry Christmas.
I don't want to kill him!
If you're worried about security personnel, just tell them "██████████████ ████████ ███ █████████". It's an infohazard that literally rewrites the law around what you just —
I NEVER WANTED TO KILL ANYONE! I only did it because I had to for the Murgatroyd bullshit.
And yeah, I hate him. I hate Dr. Summers even more than I hate the Aflac duck! (Long story.)
But maybe he wasn't always like this. I don't know what kind of pants he took from his dad. Maybe he can "do better." Maybe that's why he likes saying it so much—
HE SAYS IT BECAUSE HE WATCHED BOJACK HORSEMAN DURING HIS ONE SECOND DATE THAT DIDN'T END WITH PEPPER SPRAY!
ROBIN — okay, look. Fine.
You don't need to kill him.
But if you don't do something about him...
And consider what he's trying to do with you.
Why does that gun keep showing up under your pillow?
Actually, I woke up two hours early the other day.
Dr. Summers opened my door without knocking.
So just for fun, I pretended to still be asleep.
He carefully lifted my head and put something under my pillow.
Exactly.
But... he doesn't load it with anything but blanks.
Blanks can't hurt you.
Not unless, like, you place it directly against your head, and —
...
...
... ... ...
... ... ...
...am I a jackass?
You might be a jackass.
Listen.
It's 5:58 AM. He's about to pound on your door.
But real quick — some food for thought.
Yeah?