See the same things enough times, and it loses its value.
~Quotes of Kavveled, No. 56, Reven Edition
Doctor Nassanei seemed more perturbed at this particular moment to Rice, with his constant urges to get up from his chair and pace to and fro across the room, trodding thoughtlessly over the immense amount of his own notes strewn all over the floor in all forms – crushed, torn, in perfect condition, folded into various creative shapes, you name it.
Rice had trouble restraining herself from tackling Nassanei and outright tying him up just so he would not destroy more of his extraordinary work by… Stepping on it. He had competitors who would kill for the opportunity to step into his workplace to get even a peek at those notes before stealing them and burning the place. But he, the doctor himself, is stepping on his own priceless treasures.
Thinking about it brought back an urge to facepalm in Rice.
And so, she, Rice, his faithful assistant, lived in constant trepidation for the great works of Doctor Nassanei, as he seemed just the kind of person to accidentally leave his briefcase of notes on the chair after tea.
‘I DON’T GET IT!!!’ He screamed, throwing his head back at last, seeming as if he would claw his hair out, although he settled for strangling imaginary necks in the air. ‘I don’t get it I don’t get it I don’t get it. I’m such a hypocrite. Rice, smack me in the head, I can’t think!!’
Rice suppressed her urge to laugh – It certainly was a difficult to think that the cool, level headed man so often found on the newspapers was the very same screaming madman before her at the moment.
‘What? What hypocrite? Come on, you just pace up and down and I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said, considerably calmer than him. Her eyes had been fixed to the piece of paper before her – a news report she was supposed to be finishing by that night, an endeavor foiled by her bout of writer’s block. Though she was loath to get distracted from her work, she turned his attention to him at his outburst. He did pay her to be his assistant, after all.
The man took a deep, calming breath, held it for such a long time that Rice became suddenly aware of her own breathing, before letting it out a much calmer man. He looked straight at her with less demented eyes and opened his mouth.
‘I told Mr. Dest not to bother with the fighter’s mind.’
‘Yes.’
‘But there’s nothing else to do.’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ve cracked everything.’
‘Yes. Aren’t you happy?’
‘Now I’m bored.’
‘Go teach.’
‘Really now, Rice, you think that I’d be satisfied with merely teaching?’
‘True. And so?’
‘I can’t crack the fighter’s mind.’
‘You want to do so.’ Which explains the hypocrite comment… Ahh.
‘A conclusive paper of everything.’
‘There’s no such thing as a conclusive paper for everything.’
‘As many information as paper can contain.’
‘As much,’ Rice corrected.
Nassanei scowled.
Rice continued smiling at him beatifically.
He took another deep breath, and tried to forget her insolence. ‘You’ve been doing reports on the fighter’s world.’
‘What of it?’
‘You know how they behave.’
‘I know what they do, yes.’
‘You know their inner culture.’
‘No.’
‘You’ve seen them fight.’
‘Yes.’
‘You’ve seen how cold blooded they can be.’
‘Yes.’
‘Monsters without remorse.’
‘Yes.’
Nassanei rubbed his chin. Dang, gotta shave soon.‘And yet they’re not psychotics and can be really quite normal under most circumstances.’
‘Since you know everything, Doctor, why ask me?’
‘What do you think runs in those insane minds of theirs?’
‘I wouldn’t know, Doctor, I’m no fighter.’
Silence. Nassanei found that he was starting to find Rice’s perfectly consistent smile unnerving.
‘I think they think it’s one big game.’
‘Yes.’
‘Inside the game, they can be so cold blooded because they think it’s not real.’
‘No.’
‘Fine, I shall admit that that was a rather ridiculous thesis.’
‘Your brilliance is ever spasmodic.’
Nassanei’s frown deepened while Rice’s smile was still the same. He felt slightly annoyed, but continued on.
‘This project’s impossible because I can’t get any test subjects.’
‘Which is why nobody ever did it, and why you told Dest not to do it.’
‘I know perfectly well, Rice, and you will better serve me by giving me useful ideas.’
‘Yes.’
There was another period of silence as they stared at each other, a peculiar smile leaking onto Nassanei’s face.
‘I want to interview a fighter.’
‘Impossible.’
‘Why?’
‘They stand to profit nothing, and profit is one of their motivations.’
‘You seem to know more than you let on, Rice.’
‘Common sense, isn’t it?’
‘No, I mean, what makes you think that nothing I offer will entice them to sit down for a five minute interview?’
‘They don’t like to waste time. Especially with psychology papers.’
‘So you think these are wastes of time.’
‘I’m not fully convinced of their value myself.’
Something flashed into Doctor Nassanei’s eyes that implied hurt, but was quickly replaced by his default expression and escaped Rice’s notice.
‘But the promise of reward might make their “time wasted” seem more worthwhile, would it not?’
‘Well… Fine, if they're anything like us normal people, they can be swayed by that, I guess. But they might provide you with bogus answers because they simply don’t care.’
Nassanei scowled. ‘I know. But there has to be someone truthful enough.’
‘Not likely. Monsters without remorse, remember?’
‘An accurate assessment, then?’
‘For the most part.’
‘Meaning there still are some who aren't monsters.’
‘Yes.’
‘We just need to find them.’
‘Yes.’
‘We need to interact with them.’
‘Yes.’
‘And so you shall help me.’
‘Yes.’
‘If you keep saying yes in the hopes of getting in the last word and therefore sounding smarter, you fail.’
‘Yes.’
‘And you just proved me right.’
‘Yes.’
‘Perhaps I shall adopt a fighter’s mindset and do some method acting to better understand them with you as my focus.’
‘Yes.’
‘I shall have guns.’
‘Yes.’
‘And a sword.’
‘Yes.’
Nassanei continued smiling at her for a long time before finally settling back onto his chair, picking up his pen to write, mouthing things under his breath that were probably less than pacifistic.
Rice, somewhat relieved that the conversation was over, turned back to her report. She wiped the smile off her face and her true feelings of frustration shone through her glorious scowling.
Doctor Nassanei just made my writer’s block worse. It must’ve been his plan all along. Brilliant bastards. Looks like tomorrow’s newspaper’s gonna be rather dull. Dammit. There goes my bonus. Dammit.
Ahh dammit, I just poked a hole through my paper. Shouldn’t have vented it while dotting my “i”. Yurith help me.
Real, constant interaction by blending in with them? Method acting? Really, Doctor, are you so desperate that you’ve lost your head?
A voice in the corner of Rice’s mind noted rather sardonically that there was no other solution. Rice scowled.
Brilliant bastards, always right.
Well, he probably wasn't really serious. He really wanted to crack the mind of a fighter, and it seems that the only solution is to join them, blend in, whatever. But he would never actually carry out his plan.
Right?