I was going to punish Sans later for his outburst, but other than the look he had on his face, there wasn't anything that gave away that he was going to kill, or even hurt, anyone. To all the rest of us, it only looked like he was angry. Still, that didn't stop me from thinking of something- maybe a night without his telescope, maybe a week of him not being allowed to play the trombone- but as soon as he staggered onto the couch and asked for the bucket, I thought that was punishment enough.
Even if he does have better judgement than I do on these sorts of things.
But something bugs me about what he said, even though Chara won't tell me exactly what he said to get Sans so angry in the first place. What he said at the end plays in my head over and over again, like a song on repeat in a broken cellphone's music player.
"You should have killed me. That would've hurt less than this."
My shoulders slumping just a little, I let the children play together after something this disheartening. Thinking of researching what the piano a pink SOUL's characteristics even were, the thought of Papyrus freezing in his jail cell very quickly made its way to the top of my mind again. I made my way to the phone in front of my desk, the number for the local law enforcement draining out of my fingertips.
The first phone number was the local law enforcement center's office, headed by… you guessed it… the HSO. Needless to say, when I called them, they told me they couldn't accept phone calls with "my specific code", and a few seconds of jumping around my thoughts told me that this meant any monster in the town, all of them closed inside our neighborhood. They apologized over and over again, and without another word, they hung up. The beeping from the phone in my ears practically drove me to the idea of running out of the backdoor and yelling 'till the birds flew away, but still I called.
The second phone number was the actual prison itself. At first, it was from a very nice woman who introduced herself as Sophia, and our conversation went something like this:
"Sophia, you wouldn't happen to have a way to contact any prisoners, would you?"
"We do, but in some situations, and depending on who calls, they're sometimes… closed off."
"I see." She couldn't see my teeth grit. "Is there any way we could at least obtain any trial dates?"
"Well, sir, I'm very, very sorry about this, but again, this depends on who calls. We don't want anyone prone to being criminals finding out about other prisoners, but-"
"Ma'am. Are you saying that-"
"Sir, I'm so sorry. I know how great monsters have been, really. I was at the live broadcast, too, and it's much better than- God, much better than any of the shows I've seen lately. It's just that it's my first month here, and… jeez, I'm already going to get in so much trouble if I get caught doing this. And just the teeniest, tiniest infarction will get me so far down the road that-"
I let myself relax, just a little. "It's alright. I understand. But could I at least get hold of another-"
It was as if she heard me. In the background, I heard a few loud sentences, ending with "punk", and I knew she was there. Nobody could see my smile.
"Hey, thanks for taking over, Sophie. And not hangin' up on 'im. We'll keep this whole thing quiet. Promise." A pause. "A'ight, G," Undyne starts. "Before you ask any questions, he's safe."
Safe. The word rolled over me like the last gentle ripples of water that come just before the shoreline, and I let myself lean back in my seat. She must have heard me sigh.
"I knew that'd cheer you up. God, it's awful what they did to 'im. Makes me hate working here sometimes, even if it does put food on the table. They interrogated 'im, too. Didn't beat him up or anything, but it sure did scare the smile right off of 'im. And what's the worst part is...he's uneasy. Really, really uneasy."
"If I was interrogated, I'd be much more than uneasy. I'd be angry. I-" I laugh. It's the only thing I can do now besides crying. "I am angry. I… I'm so, so…"
"Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. But this is…" She huffs. It's never good news when she huffs. The last time she did, it was the first time any of us had seen a car on the road. We were all judging what it was, and when she huffed and said that it was safe… well, let's just say I almost didn't get to write this book.
"...G, this is really different. It's not like the regular uneasiness. He's all jittery, begging to be on the phone with you. He says that if he doesn't tell you, he'll explode. And that if he doesn't tell you, something… super, super, super bad is going to happen. I think-"
"I think I should be on the phone with him, Undyne."
I could tell she didn't hesitate because of the sound of her jail keys jingling, and I knew she broke into a run. This wasn't like Papyrus at all.
He wasn't… the whole family isn't suspicious at all. I attempted to explain everything that happened with science and some sort of psychology. When Papyrus asked me why he dreamed the silliest things every night, I couldn't do anything but mutter something about his brain filing away random, silly bits of information. Sans asked me why Mr. Gosset the librarian has to have a substitute because he suffers from cancer, while the library assistant doesn't. I said at least three paragraphs about heredity.
And when he asked how to stop it, stop it completely, I moved to a different subject.
In about a minute or so, I heard Papyrus' voice, and the relief was enough to make me lie down on the second couch. "Hey, Paps."
Sans sat up as if nothing was wrong with him, smiled, started reaching for the phone, flapping his hand back and forth. With a little vindiction, I pressed the speaker button.
"Hello!" His voice shook a little, but neither of us said anything about it as we all shouted out our greetings. Sans migrated to the other couch.
"Hey, bro! How've you been?"
"Well, brother, it's been a little… distressing."
"Yes, I heard," I butted in. "Undyne told me about it." Sans looks at me like I'm a three- headed alien.
"Wait, whaddya mean 'distressing'?"
Papyrus took a deep breath. "Since I've been here, I… I've felt uneasy. And it's not just because I'm here. It's an… all-of-the-time thing. Sometimes, I even forget I'm here, and I still feel uneasy. I just have a feeling you guys are going to do something while I'm gone, and do something horrible. I think-"
"We'll be fine," I interrupted, and Sans looks at me like I'm a three-headed alien again. "Whatever we do, we'll be careful. We promise."
"Well… alright…" Papyrus says. "But that still doesn't stop me from feeling uneasy about something. It's like you guys have just started doing something while I was gone, and if I don't tell you what I think about it, it'll go wrong…"
The thought speeds into my head faster than I thought something could run. As a scientist, most of my thoughts, and all of my theories, seep into my head in a slow, forward march, about as slow as walking to somewhere that's an arduous trip even by car. But this one is a truck, hitting me faster than anything.
It's the cameras.
I tell him again how it'll be alright before giving the phone to Sans, and the both of them talk until the phone battery dies.
It's the cameras.
