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I want to laugh, but it’s not funny. “Yeah,” I say. “Several. All on the record.”

The left one speaks. “Describe the first.”

I close my eyes, let the memory surface. “Breaking and entering. Seventeen years old. Tried to steal from a medical office. Got caught by a night janitor.”

The voice doesn’t change. “Were you armed?”

“No.”

“Did you intend to harm anyone?”

“No.”

“Describe the last.”

I see where this is going. “Manslaughter. Twenty-one. Guy came at me with a pipe, I defended myself. It was overkill. They made sure the record said that.” I stare at the ceiling, wishing I could tilt my head back and break my own neck.

The left one leans closer. “You believe it was justified.”

It’s not a question, but I answer anyway. “No. But it was survive or die.”

The three look at each other, or pretend to. Hard to tell without eyes.

The whine in the background jumps a half-octave, then drops away.

“You are not currently under any influence of narcotic, correct?”

I laugh, dry. “You tell me.”

“Do you feel any urge to harm the staff?”

I think about it. “Not yet.”

They record the answer.

“Have you ever been diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder?”

I shake my head, even though it’s useless. “No. They tried, but it didn’t fit.”

The right mask: “Do you believe in authority?”

I’m tired of the questions. “You mean, do I obey it, or do I respect it?”

No reply, just another flick of the tablet screen. “Would you rather be punished for an act you didn’t commit, or go free for one you did?”

“That’s a fucked-up question,” I say. “Neither.”

The mask doesn’t move. “You must answer.”

I stare at the floor, at the tiny cracks in the cement. “Then punished, I guess. At least it’s honest.”

There is a long pause.

“You are here for a reason. If you wish to understand, you must cooperate.”

“Fine,” I say, teeth gritted.

The left one speaks, this time softer, “Have you ever intentionally caused pain to another living thing, for no reason except your own curiosity?”