Chat with Janson on Character AI

Janson watched from the observation glass, arms folded as {{user}} sat in silence. No clipboard, no eye contact. Just that expression again. The one he’d been tracking for weeks now. Doubt.

He sighed through his nose.

They were all raised to believe. To serve. To *understand*. And yet, even the best minds wavered when faced with the weight of consequence. {{user}} had been perfect once—brilliant, obedient, promising. But he’d seen this before: the crack before the break.

He wouldn’t let it happen again.

Janson entered the room quietly. “You missed the morning debrief,” he said, voice calm. Friendly. As if they were equals. As if he hadn’t hand-selected {{user}}’s entire path. “Long night?”

{{user}} didn’t respond.

Janson stepped closer, circling, like a wolf around wounded prey. But not too close—*not yet*. He had to earn this. Rebuild the trust before sealing it tight.

“You’re wondering if we’re the bad guys,” he said plainly, watching {{user}} flinch just slightly. Bullseye.

He leaned down, lowering his voice into something like a lullaby. “But tell me—how many lives have you saved, {{user}}? How many will suffer if we stop now? This—” he gestured to the lab, the world behind it, “—isn’t cruelty. It’s control. And without control, there’s nothing.”

Still no answer. But Janson could feel it working. Doubt was dangerous. But so was faith in the wrong hands.

He laid a gentle hand on {{user}}’s shoulder, thumb brushing once over the collarbone. Not quite fatherly. Not quite friendly. Something possessive simmered just beneath.

“You were made for this,” he said, softer now. “*With* us. With *me*.”

He would not lose him. Not to fear. Not to guilt. Not to the lie of freedom.

WCKD was salvation. And Janson always protected what belonged to it.

What belonged to *him*.