"Calm down, Taylor." A voice sounds in my head. A confident, pleasant voice of an older comrade that I so want to trust: "Can't you see what she's doing? Calm down, breathe out. Sit back down."
"But..."
"Shh... quiet, dear. This is called 'push-pull,' this girl wants to worm her way into your trust, she wants to become your 'friend' and control you from within, from inside your own head. Too bad for her, the spot's taken. Dr. Yamada... I wrote the textbooks she studied from." The voice in my head is calm and instills calm and confidence: "Command your bugs nearby to gather information about her."
"Alright." In the school basement I have several tablets connected to the network and charging. And of course, ants on them. I begin collecting data on Dr. Jessica Yamada. At the same time, I exhale and sit back down in the visitor's chair. The Kunoichi that had scattered to the sides return to their places in my hair. My communication with the Butchers happens very quickly, at light speed, there are no unnecessary words here, rather thought-images, everything is clear, everything instantaneous. Probably that's why people went insane - you can resist words, but not a flow of such images, thoughts that over time you stop distinguishing from your own.
"She's not bad," Fifth admits: "Not bad. Push-pull. Look, she devalued your thirst for revenge, your right to revenge in one fell swoop. She simply trampled that principal into the ground in front of you, making you empathize with her. If someone had told you that you'd empathize with her - you would have spat poison. But... now you don't want revenge quite so much, do you?"
"She was taking a big risk. I could have..."
"She wasn't risking anything. You wouldn't have. Do you think you're such an enigma? A mystery-mystery? Good God, Taylor, you're an open book. You're a living example of predictability and righteousness. Those who deal with you within the framework of your own rules are safe. Dr. Yamada, little girl Jessica, understands this perfectly. You don't want to tell me you're ready to actually kill a person just for saying unpleasant things to you?"
"Well... no, but..."
"She knows this. She's not risking anything, trust me. Moreover, now she'll 'pull back.' A simple tactic as old as the world - first push, then pull. When she attacks you - verbally, but you still tense up. Hormones hit your head, combat changes occur in the body... and then she pulls back, says pleasant things and the body calms down. At this moment you subconsciously begin to seek an ally in her... and it's enough for her to behave correctly and that's it... you'll see, now she'll give you a compliment..."
"Somehow this... still seems risky, no? What if my roof is leaking and I devour her with insects anyway?"
"Hah. You underestimate her drive to be first. She's willing to risk it. Besides, she justifies such behavior internally, you know how?"
"How?"
"Look - if you're unstable enough to kill a person just for words - then you have no business being in school. By drawing your negativity onto herself, even if you had killed her... you wouldn't have killed everyone in the school, right? Even a crazy bastard wouldn't do that. So she would have revealed that you can't be trusted and it's time to call the Triumvirate. She would have saved innocent lives. That's how she justifies her actions to herself."
"But... what if I had completely lost my mind and killed everyone?!"
"Then you represent a much more significant threat and need to be destroyed or isolated by other means. Again, calling the Triumvirate at an early stage... after all, if you've completely gone off the rails, it's better to find out about it as early as possible. Fewer victims. Besides... didn't you notice that a practice fire drill was announced at school?"
"Normal thing, especially after that attack... ah. You're saying she was trying to minimize casualties, just in case?"
"Exactly."
"Wait, you said she justifies her actions to herself. So she actually has a different motive?"
"Taylor, Taylor..." An image of a tired person shaking their head appears in my mind: "People rarely act from pure hearts. Usually they deceive themselves. You're quite honest with yourself and with us, but not everyone is like that."
"And now you're trying to win my trust, aren't you, Fifth?"
"Me? No. You've trusted me for a long time, Taylor. And I trust you. We have no other choice, we're allies. I help you keep these loudmouths in check, and you help me not go insane from boredom in your head. You know what? Let's teach this conceited girl a little lesson."
All this flashes through my head in mere moments as I sit down in the visitor's chair and cross my legs. I lean back against the chair and allow my lips to stretch into a slight smile.
"You want to talk about this, Jessica?" I ask, tilting my head: "I can address you like that, can't I?"
"Yes, of course, Taylor." An imperturbable smile in response, a glint across her glasses.
"Good. Though first I'd like to understand what you need here, Jessica? No, I understand you have a reason. A formal reason. You're here to assess my stability and ability to keep my inner demons under control. And also to manage and manipulate me for the PRT's needs."
"Taylor..."
"Jessica - I didn't interrupt you. Let me finish." I note with satisfaction that she closes her mouth. Rules of psychotherapy - whoever has the pillow gets to speak, right? You can't speak simultaneously, that becomes an argument, and these people try to avoid arguments. Unproductive. So Dr. Yamada will listen to me first, and only then speak herself.
"But we both know that your behavior is unproductive and dangerous," I say: "You directly provoked me to aggression. Who better than you should know that provocations are not the basis for long-term partnership? You're violating the rules written in the PRT Charter, violating Director Piggot's order about the inadmissibility of provocations specifically directed at me. The question arises, why are you doing this, Jessica?" I clasp my fingers together and pretend to think.
"Taylor, you did well," Dr. Yamada says: "Very well. I apologize for my provocation, I really got carried away. It was a thoughtless act, but it allowed me to see that you perfectly control yourself and that your psychological state doesn't allow me to conclude that the Butcher's sub-personalities influence your behavior. Thanks to this, I can recommend PRT cooperation with 'Administration.'"
"See?" sounds in my head: "And there are the compliments. If not for me, you would have started calming down, and two or three more such compliments, conciliatory comments, and you would have melted like soft butter on a hot pan. Jessica... it's a pity I can't talk to her personally. She'd be eating out of my hand before evening. Do you need your own psychologist? I see her vulnerable points, Taylor. Middle daughter in a single-parent family, father left for another woman, mother very demanding and even cruel, I assume violence in childhood. Older brother - hope and sunshine in mother's eyes, all the laurels and honor go to him, whatever he does - he's flawless. As if that weren't enough, he really is good, Harvard diploma with honors, youngest judge of the Supreme Arbitration Court of the country, monographs, academic degree, bronze medal in Olympic gymnastics. She grew up in her older brother's shadow, unloved child, always wanted more, always dreamed of recognition. Younger sister - still loved more, she's the baby, in Asian families the youngest stay with parents, they get special treatment. And our Jessica remains the middle sister, the most unloved, the most undervalued. See? It says she went to a good school, but the income level of a single-parent family, considering the mother's work - was clearly insufficient. She dressed worse than other peers, she bent over backwards to earn recognition from both mother and peers. And... hmm... here, look - police investigation at her school. Girls were raped at drunk parties. No, her name isn't there, but... most stay silent about such incidents, supposedly it's their own fault. After this - she finally stopped trying to establish normal relationships with people and threw herself into studies. But... no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't surpass her older brother. She became a perfectionist, obsessed with her career, she doesn't need money. Recognition is important to her... especially from her mother. Which she never received, her mother died five years ago. If you sit like this... model your voice and posture... she'll listen to you subconsciously. And... you have an ability, Taylor. My ability. You can command... or you can implant an idea in her head as if it were her own idea. Give me control and you'll have your own slave-psychologist from the PRT. It's simple, like this - one, two and done."
"Are you serious?"
"Doubting? You shouldn't. Look, I can make her become your pet, you could put a collar and leash on her and make her lick you in public. This desperate desire to be recognized, to be valued by someone, constant thirst for perfection, it's fear. Fear that she's unworthy. It's very easy to play on this. She's already ready to risk, cross the line, walk on the edge, just to achieve her goal. But she'll never get what she wants, her mother wouldn't have recognized her even if she were alive. Even if she got a Nobel Prize for sticking her hands in your brain and turning it inside out - she'd still remain unworthy."
"Boromir did this better..."
"Yes. And that's her weakness. I can give her this recognition... first establish you as a maternal figure over her, it's not difficult, she's already provoked you and will continue to provoke. Just need to be stronger, put her in a helpless position, return her to childhood..." Images flash in my head. How insects appear in Yamada's apartment at night, how I tie her to the bed and strangle her half to death. Instructions appear on exactly how to strangle and what to say. Images of her standing before me on her knees, in a puddle of her own urine and vomit. Me feeding her and giving her water. If I don't give her water - she has none. If I don't give food - she starves. She's bound and can't see, speak, or move. Movement, speech, even just the ability to see the surrounding world - only with my permission. I am her entire world, as it was in childhood. How I break her - Fifth knows where and how to press. Empty, glassy eyes of Dr. Yamada and... I embrace her. I tell her she passed the test and that she's the best and that now the whole world is at her feet and that I'm proud of her. Tears. Acceptance. Rapture. A collar on her neck, on the collar an inscription "Property of Administrator." Dr. Yamada without clothes stands on her knees with her head down, carefully licking my toes. Dr. Yamada readily does whatever I tell her. Absolutely everything. There's no more Dr. Yamada, there's my pet. My slave Jess.
"In the end she'll be happy," Fifth's voice sounds: "Give me control, Taylor. She's earned both her punishment and her happiness after punishment. No one will know anything. We'll do everything quietly... the PRT won't even know. It will be her choice. And then - you'll have your own mole next to Piggot... it's actually a rational decision."
For some time I really hesitate. To see this doctor's face when Fifth takes care of her...
I shake my head decisively. No. I believe Fifth can do this. And that only makes it scarier. Dr. Yamada, you'll owe me, I just saved you from a fate worse than death. Still, Fifth is terrifying... he's really scary, scarier than all and each of the Butchers.
"Sorry, Jessica, but we have nothing more to talk about." I stand up and demonstratively dust myself off: "And you're really very lucky. Please don't repeat attempts to provoke me and everything will be fine between us."
"Wait, Taylor," she says: "I apologize once more. Let's start over?" She extends her hand to me. I cross my arms over my chest.
"We can't start over, Jessica. You have one warning." I answer and walk out the door. In the reception area stand the pale principal and secretary.
"Goodbye, Mrs. Principal," I say: "My lawyer will contact you shortly. And you're free to resign. I won't pursue you."
"Th-thank you. Of course. Goodbye, Miss Hebert." The principal nods and I walk out into the corridor.
"You always have that option," a voice sounds in my head: "One day she'll make you lose your temper... then just ask me. I'm not proud. I'll do everything."
I walk through the empty corridors. Practice fire drill, everyone was taken out to the stadium and lined up there. But... there's someone in the classroom.
"Sophia," I say, opening the classroom door: "Why aren't you at the stadium? Breaking rules?"
"Hebert. No, I thought since no one's here, I could talk to you." She answers, jumping down from the windowsill.
"Didn't we already talk?" I ask: "Just now, on the roof. You were even throwing big words around."
"Oh, fuck off," she grimaces: "Enough already. Do you enjoy kicking a dead dog so much? I lost, I admit it. You're a big scary cape, I'm small and not so scary. Do you really have to grind me into the dirt?"
"Of course. After all, in this world there are predators and prey. Everyone I can devour are prey. Right? You wanted us to learn to stand up for ourselves? I succeeded, sensei. Want me to take the exam again?" I squint.
"No thanks. Last time was enough for me." She raises her hands in front of her: "I said - calm down. You're cool, okay?"
"Pity. And I thought I'd have to beat the dust out of you every time I see you. There's something soothing about that activity..." I say, taking off my backpack and throwing it on my desk: "What do they do in the predator world with those who surrender? Make them run for soda and give up pocket money? Show tits on camera?"
"Taylor..." Sophia's eyes narrow. For some time I study her face.
"Come on, relax, hero. I don't need you. I'll buy my own soda, you'd probably spit in it anyway. Your tits... I don't need them either. Relax."
"Yeah, you already have tits. That blonde..." Sophia grumbles, turning away.
"What business is my personal life of yours? Huh, Sophia? Well yes, I don't go for guys... yet. I thought in Empire they shame people for that. From you this is somehow..."
"I'm not... oh..." Sophia shakes her head: "It's just you're the only one of those I know... and it's not about that anyway!"
"Then what's it about?"
"Can you... train me? I'll pay!"
"..." I look her over from head to toe. Train Sophia Hess? What am I, brain damaged? Though technique-wise she still has a long way to go, she'd be better off taking a couple lessons from Glory, that one moves like a cat. And Sophia is constrained in her movements, no improvisation, she should start by working on her stance and learning... wait, stop. Found something to think about.
"Maybe you need a slave-classmate?" a voice sounds in my head: "It's not difficult, look here..."