2:30pm, May 28th, 2042

Staff interview with William Simony with regard to incident on May 27th, 2042.

Interview led by Doctor N. Booth.


William Simony: 'I won't!' that was all the poor bastard said. That was all. Kept shouting it. Looked mad, he did. Mad.

Doctor Booth: William, we all know this is impossible.

WS: Well apparently I don't. Begging your pardon, sir, but that's what I saw.

DB: What else did it do?

WS: 'It'?

DB: The clone, William. What else did it do?

WS: Well, sir, he stood up.

DB: And what else?

WS: What do you mean, 'what else'? I told you! He just kept shouting.

DB: Alright. Alright. I can see I'm not asking the right questions. What did you and the other guards do when it shouted and stood?

WS: We didn't know what to do, sir. There was nothing like this in the brief. Me and the lads just shot each other shifty looks. We was uncomfortable sir. Shouting like that, it makes them seem... seem...

DB: Human?

WS: Yeah...

DB: But they aren't, William. You must remember this. They are little more than shadows and shades. Your reflection has more humanity in it than those creatures over there.

WS: Fine. Whatever.

DB: Are you comfortable, William? You look unwell.

WS: I'm fine, sir. Just think I got a bit too close to some nasty infection or something. Seems to be affecting a lot of people in this place.

DB: Is that a bit of scathing wit I detect, William?

WS: Wit, sir? No, sir. Rest assured my dictionary only goes as far as V.

DB: Hmm. Well. Back to the matter in hand. What did you do after, and I quote, you 'shot each other shifty looks'?

WS: Someone tried to lead the poor sod away.

DB: By poor sod, I assume you mean the clone?

WS: You know what I mean by it. D'you want me to carry on or not, sir?

DB: Please. Do.

WS: Someone, I think it was Perry. Tim Perry. Friend of mine. He got his arm on the lad and tried to pull him away, get him to follow. But it didn't work. He just stood there, screaming his 'ead off. Like he had no other thoughts in there except for 'I won't'.

DB: Hmm.

WS: My commander says to go fetch a doctor. Get him sedated and away from the other clones, 'cause he's making them nervous. So I go into the nearest lab and grab the first white coat I see. It's an old guy. Peppered hair, as my dad would say. Big green eyes. Looked like a decent bloke, really. Anyways, I told him about the clone and his face went pale. Can't have been the first time for him, I guess.

DB: Did the doctor say his name?

WS: Didn't need to. I'm ain't dumb, sir. I checked he had his ID badge.

DB: And what was his name?

WS: MacSwede, I think. Mac-something at any rate. Small things, them ID badges.

DB: McSweeney?

WS: Yeah! That was it. McSweeney. Doctor H. McSweeney. Seemed nice. Hey, you alright? You look a bit pale yourself.

DB: I'm fine. Please continue. What happened next?

WS: I took the doc to the Conditioning hall and he comes up behind the clone with a big old needle full of that sleepy stuff you give them.

DB: The K-Träume?

WS: Yeah. That stuff. Knocked the bastard right out. He just keeled over, no fuss, no mess.

DB: And then?

WS: You seem real eager all of a sudden, you know.

DB: And you seem suddenly observant. Remember your place, William. I am asking the questions.

WS: Right-o, sir. Awaiting your questions, sir. Wouldn't want to forget my place, sir. Heaven forbid, sir.

DB: William?

WS: Sir?

DB: Shut up.

WS: Sir.

DB: What did Dr McSweeney do with the clone? William. I have had a trying day, please do not play silly buggers.

WS: Wouldn't dream of it, sir. Well. The doctor got a few of us to carry the clone back to his lab and we left him there. The poor sod was snoring on a bench, last I saw of him.

DB: So Dr McSweeney said nothing else to you?

WS: Like what, sir?

DB: Ah, nothing. Never mind. Anything else to add, William, before I stop recording?

WS: Yeah. I've got something.

DB: And what is that?

WS: That clone's eyes, his face, his everything... he was more alive than you, y'know? You look blank in comparison, sir. He was alive. He had more humanity in that one scream than I think you'll ever have for all your talk. You're nothing, sir. Nothing.

DB: I see... Anything else at all?

WS: Yeah. This.

DB: And what is this? A piece of paper?

WS: My resignation. I can't hack this job. It's not soul-killing. Soul-killing jobs I 'ave done and survived. This shit is soul-less, and I want nothin' more of it.

DB: I see.

WS: All the best, Doc.

DB: Hmm...

WS: One more thing. You found him yet?

DB: Not ye- You have resigned, William! You have no further place here. Leave.

WS: Thought so. I wish him every luck, the bugger's gonna need it against you psychos.

DB: Leave. Now. Before I call security.

WS: Fine. Look. I'm going.

DB: Interview with William Simony, terminated 15:07.