To be fair, they're actually *right* not to trust the doctor making their stuff, and the production bottleneck on Mark IIIs is pretty darn limiting. Like, more than you're thinking right now. They don't have the ability to make them fast enough.
That said, they went about dealing with both problems in exactly the wrong way.
**********
Wait.
My hand stopped, halfway to the door. Do I really want to bother her with this? It's not really all that important, so why should I waste Cinque's time with it?I thought about it a bit... and then snorted in derision. It might be unimportant, but it's not like I'll manage to do anything about it on my own. Better to get an outside opinion on it.Then I pushed the button.
...huh. Not what I was expecting.
The door opened to reveal Cinque, curled up on a rather comfortable-looking couch with an honest-to-goodness dead-tree book in front of her, raptly focused on the text. Where'd she get the book? Strike that- where'd she get such a nice couch?!
I waited until she reached the end of a page, then knocked, very deliberately, three times on the open door next to me. To her credit, Cinque didn't jump or startle- I would've, I'm sure- when she heard it; instead, she just sat up, picked up a bookmark from the side table next to her, and carefully closed the book around it, before turning her attention to me.
"Imma." A flicker of concern. "What happened?"Must've seen my indecision. Polite niceties. "Oh, it's nothing. I just... didn't want to intrude, that's all." I looked down at the book she was reading from. That's a freaking work of art. Leather cover, embossed design all over the back and spine of it, gilt-edged pages... wonder why she went to such trouble instead of getting a paperback or e-book?
"And yet you did." Cinque frowned, but kept her eyes, sharp as ever, on me. "That, and the fact that you came to my room in the first place, tells me that something's gone wrong." She patted the empty spot next to her on the couch, and put on an inviting smile. "Come. Sit down, and tell me what happened."
Okay, that didn't work. Guess I'll have to talk. I did as requested, carefully settling myself down onto the nicely-appointed couch. As I put my weight on it, the cushion let out a hssss of displaced air, letting me sink an inch or so... and becoming almost indecently comfortable. First a beautiful book, then a ridiculously nice couch? Girl's got good taste.It took me a few seconds to get my thoughts gathered, on track, and in order.
"I killed nine people today."Way to be blunt about it.
Cinque blinked in surprise. "Really?" She looked me over again, clearly checking for something. "Forgive my surprise, but I thought you'd be taking it worse than this. How did it happen?"
I sighed, leaning forward and resting my chin in my hands. "Went on a mission. Had to stop the Syndicate from making peace with another criminal group. Only way to make it stick was to fake a betrayal, and the only way to do that involved killing the other delegation." I shook my head, and threw myself backwards, letting my head tilt back and my arms sprawl out as I sank into the couch. "Still can't think of a better way to go about it, but I feel..."
"Dirty? Ill?" I languidly turned my head, giving Cinque an incredulous look; she responded by averting her eyes, looking down at the couch as she fidgeted aimlessly. "I took the liberty of researching the typical effect of killing on the human psyche. Those were the most common symptoms noted."
My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Brother Atom Bomb of Courteous Debate. Get yours.
I've been writing a bit.
That said, they went about dealing with both problems in exactly the wrong way.
**********
Wait.
My hand stopped, halfway to the door. Do I really want to bother her with this? It's not really all that important, so why should I waste Cinque's time with it?I thought about it a bit... and then snorted in derision. It might be unimportant, but it's not like I'll manage to do anything about it on my own. Better to get an outside opinion on it.Then I pushed the button.
...huh. Not what I was expecting.
The door opened to reveal Cinque, curled up on a rather comfortable-looking couch with an honest-to-goodness dead-tree book in front of her, raptly focused on the text. Where'd she get the book? Strike that- where'd she get such a nice couch?!
I waited until she reached the end of a page, then knocked, very deliberately, three times on the open door next to me. To her credit, Cinque didn't jump or startle- I would've, I'm sure- when she heard it; instead, she just sat up, picked up a bookmark from the side table next to her, and carefully closed the book around it, before turning her attention to me.
"Imma." A flicker of concern. "What happened?"Must've seen my indecision. Polite niceties. "Oh, it's nothing. I just... didn't want to intrude, that's all." I looked down at the book she was reading from. That's a freaking work of art. Leather cover, embossed design all over the back and spine of it, gilt-edged pages... wonder why she went to such trouble instead of getting a paperback or e-book?
"And yet you did." Cinque frowned, but kept her eyes, sharp as ever, on me. "That, and the fact that you came to my room in the first place, tells me that something's gone wrong." She patted the empty spot next to her on the couch, and put on an inviting smile. "Come. Sit down, and tell me what happened."
Okay, that didn't work. Guess I'll have to talk. I did as requested, carefully settling myself down onto the nicely-appointed couch. As I put my weight on it, the cushion let out a hssss of displaced air, letting me sink an inch or so... and becoming almost indecently comfortable. First a beautiful book, then a ridiculously nice couch? Girl's got good taste.It took me a few seconds to get my thoughts gathered, on track, and in order.
"I killed nine people today."Way to be blunt about it.
Cinque blinked in surprise. "Really?" She looked me over again, clearly checking for something. "Forgive my surprise, but I thought you'd be taking it worse than this. How did it happen?"
I sighed, leaning forward and resting my chin in my hands. "Went on a mission. Had to stop the Syndicate from making peace with another criminal group. Only way to make it stick was to fake a betrayal, and the only way to do that involved killing the other delegation." I shook my head, and threw myself backwards, letting my head tilt back and my arms sprawl out as I sank into the couch. "Still can't think of a better way to go about it, but I feel..."
"Dirty? Ill?" I languidly turned my head, giving Cinque an incredulous look; she responded by averting her eyes, looking down at the couch as she fidgeted aimlessly. "I took the liberty of researching the typical effect of killing on the human psyche. Those were the most common symptoms noted."
My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Brother Atom Bomb of Courteous Debate. Get yours.
I've been writing a bit.