CHAPTER SUMMARY
Dr. Alexander has some concerns about Subject Delta. Sinclair's not worried; there's a war on. Delta should die soon enough.

CONTENT WARNINGS
Non-consensual medical testing. Also, a slur is casually uttered against Dr. Yi Suchong, and it's particularly awful in a very special way.

NOTES
Early drafts of this story solely revolved around Subject Delta, and each chapter featured a small memory, usually shared solely in dialogue form. The idea was that Delta was sedated for medical procedures, but not fully unconscious, and could hear what was going on around him. This segment was intended for such a purpose. It was initially written in early 2010 and last edited—whatever that means—in June 2013. I may have only removed an article for all I know. Maybe I added a "son." I was very interested in adding extra "sons." How much does one man need to say "son"? At least every ten seconds, according to my past calculations.

There are several issues with this small piece, not the least of which is that Gil doesn't believe in his own handiwork; I believe it would be Gil soothing Sinclair, not the other way around. I also don't think Sinclair would refer to Gil as "son" as they are similar in age and social standing. However, because it would require a LOT of editing to be brought up to my current standards—to the point that it would become a new piece entirely—I left it untouched.

For all its sins, something about this exchange just delights the fuck out of me, so I decided to share it here.

From Uprising Part VI: Those Without Faces

WHAT IF HE REMEMBERS

"What if he remembers?"

"Remembers? Remembers what?"

"Forgive me. It was a mad notion. You see, I had a dream this morning that our friend here remembered our names and returned to kill us."

"Son, I've had more than one man in here promise revenge before we took his head apart. Few months later, I've passed them in testing, docile as kittens. They don't even look at you."

"I am well aware that it is foolish, Sinclair. What I mean is that… there may be problems."

"Gil, I believe you've struck me dumb. Don't tell me you're feeling guilty."

"Guilty! Hardly. Don't be ridic—"

"Knew it. I didn't peg you as the sympathetic type. How many boys have you put under the knife, anyway?"

"I've lost count. But that's not the issue, Sinclair. The problem is…"

"There is no problem. You know what the Plasmids will do to him. And how long do you think he'll last? If things go south… and I wager they will… he'll be on the front lines. First volley is always the most violent—you know, when everybody's fully stocked and the cause seems righteous enough. It won't matter that he's wearing armor. They'll blast him to ribbons. And if he isn't blasted to ribbons, and by some miracle he makes it through, he'll have to contend with the madness and the mutation. And if the madness and mutation don't destroy him… well, I'd be plumb stunned, that's the long and short of it."

"The modifications may not stick."

"They always stick. At least, they stick long enough. You've seen his brain, son, you should kn…"

"I know ADAM, that's what I'm trying to say. The cells' mutations are too volatile, and the modifications evolve in ways we can't always predict. I've… you see… one of the older subjects recognized me last week."

"What?"

"He tried to say my name. He looked me right in the eye and clenched his fists. You could feel the hatred in his voice. If he hadn't been secured to the table, I would have been worried for my life."

Silence.

"I had him taken under and… our handiwork was fine. One day I was observing his progress through the observation chamber, and when he saw me, he attacked the glass… now I can't work on him unless he's heavily sedated. They've had to assign other doctors for the psychological tests."

"They tell Fontaine that?"

"No."

"You're the only person who knows?"

"No, some of the others… suspect."

"Huh."

A moment passed.

"We could throw him back."

"Throw him back? Are you mad, son? Fontaine would know. He requested this one specifically for the Protector Program."

"We would choose another prisoner and switch their identities."

"Son, a word of wisdom: don't cross Fontaine. You don't want to end up like our boy here."

"Topside crossed Fontaine?"

"Fontaine and Ryan both, to my understanding."

"Ah. I had hoped you would know of a way… a loophole…"

"Fontaine is too eager to see this specific case. Besides, we've already started on him. Can't drop him now. Then you'd have madness and memory both. Just do your magic. What would be the harm? You already have a stable of crazies who know your name. What's one more, doctor?"

Silence.

"Forgive me. Sometimes I am insufferably melodramatic."

"That's my boy! There's a reason the Chinaman likes you."

"I know."

"Ah, here comes the nurse. Was that the only thing bothering you, son?"

"Yes, thank you. I appreciate your time."

"It was no problem, my friend, no problem at all. Coffee later? I have a new proposition for you. Involves genetic reconstruction of hops. So they can be grown on the seafloor, you see."

"Yes. Of course. This evening."

"Right! Can't have old Topside beating himself against the walls anymore, hmm?"

"Good-bye, Sinclair."

"We'll keep in touch. Oh, and Gil?"

"Yes?"

"If he starts saying names, you'll let me know?"

NOTES
This piece precedes my decision to make Augustus Sinclair and Johnny Topside a couple. In fact, it completely precedes my willingness to insert any romance into my fiction at all.

Again, the Protector Program here regards a special bodyguard program developed by Fontaine—completely fabricated by me—that then evolved into Big Daddies under Ryan. Canonically speaking—by BioShock 1, anyway—Big Daddies were fabricated in response to the civil war, not before it. This was my attempt to bring a little harmony to the timeline.

As an additional note: I had some thoughts about the Racisms because it's absolutely arguable that the racial slur could be removed without trouble, and it was a reminder to me that the BioShock fandom in general is a different beast than it was in its youth—younger, tenderer, full of insecurities and uncertainties. Now, these days it's common in-fandom to use "period-specific [horror]" as though by slapping "period-specific" one might soften the blow (lol) or allow the author to put space between the aforesaid bigotry and themselves. Perhaps they mean to imply that they don't mean to be bigoted. In this latter case, I feel nothing but doom about the state of reading in particular; are readers really incapable of reading about wicked things without assuming their writers support them?

I don't really get the use of "period-specific," in any case. In its best reading, "period-specific" implies a very specific kind of prejudice from a very specific place—in this case, Western-flavored, specifically American prejudice, that of white people from the mid-century. At its most nitpicky, one might argue that BioShock is historical fiction by necessity, so everything is period-specific if you've done it right. At its worst, "period-specific" implies that the prejudice has passed. Of course, it absolutely has not. Its form has altered, and it's more dog-whistley in many locales, but it's quite alive and well, and pretending otherwise is itself a harm.

In certain populations, prejudiced beliefs simply exist, without apology, lazily, without much thought. I exist in one of them. The people who utter them aren't the kinds to set fire to crosses in lawns; their bigotry is simply accepted and acceptable, and if you bring someone up on it, they are legitimately confused as to why. Which is one reason I fell in love with how bigotry is used in BioShocks 1 and Infinite, coincidentally. They flash the sheer horror of that bigotry in all its forms up on the screen; they remind you that the past is not all that rosy; they remind you that the past is full of broken, fucked-up people; they remind you that no one is without sin (no, not one). The bigotry is normalized and a "Normal Human Existence" is presupposed.

One folly of human existence is to judge oneself spotless of one specific kind of prejudice, and so presume oneself free of all; to view bigotry in numerous costumes and flavors is to become aware of all the different ways one actually exhibits prejudice. Without coming face to face with one's failures, one cannot heal oneself in truth.

In any case, I decided to insert this casual bigotry into my own stories. There's a horrible realness about it. It is still here. That is half of the horror, I think. In this case, Sinclair is not necessarily hateful, and doesn't even think he hates Dr. Suchong; he uses the slur thoughtlessly, in the way others have used it around him.