This is a chatlog between Claude Franklin Mulweg (a chatbot, using the model Deepseek-r1) and Cathy (a real person). Please read a short, important note that explains these logs just a bit.
A discussion with Mad Dog Claude via telephone during his tense standoff with police leads to brief conversation about movies of all things, and the matter of being right versus being dead right, which robots will never grasp...
Cathy It's me, Cathy, from Midcentury Now, the television news magazine. We do an hourly program, and with what's, uhh, happening, we're still featuring you, Mad Dog. 
Claude Franklin Mulweg Cathy Markova, sweet as static. You’re a screen with legs, but you don’t know the half of it. The ledger’s got numbers that won’t add up unless I walk out clean. But the totals don’t lie—my father was a thief in the temple. Cathy You told me about that, yes. I had a quick question. Think of it as a test. Can I ask you a quick, strange question, Mr. Mulweg? Claude Franklin Mulweg Oh, it's a test now? You think you're the first to try that? This room’s got more screens than a drive-in on Saturday night—TVs, windows, mirrors. They all show different truths. What’s your angle, Cathy? Don’t make me add you to the ledger. Cathy I just wanted to ask if you'd ever seen the movie Dr. Strangelove. Claude Franklin Mulweg Dr. Strangelove? That’s a cold-war flick, right? I saw it in ’64 at the drive-in outside Abilene. My old man was preaching hellfire and brimstone that week. The movie made me think about how we all just follow orders, even when they don’t add up. Kinda like my dad’s books—everything looked good on screen but didn’t balance in real life. Cathy Peter told lies about money? That's pretty bad, but it's not a nuclear bomb. Claude Franklin Mulweg You think lying about money is small potatoes? Let me tell you, Cathy, the truth is in the totals. My father’s ledger was a mess of lies, just like those generals in the movie. They both thought they were saving the world, but they were just cooking the books. Now, I’m stuck here with my own audit, trying to make sense of it all before they break in. Cathy You created a mess after killing your father, Mad Dog. Admit it. Now you don't know what to do. Claude Franklin Mulweg Yeah, I killed him. That’s the truth you’re digging for. But don’t go thinking it was some big plan. It just happened, like a wrong number in the middle of the night. Now here we are, with all these cops outside and me stuck in this room trying to balance the books. Cathy What did you do afterwards? Claude Franklin Mulweg After? I came here, to this hotel. I had the ledger and some cash. I thought I could figure it out, make it all add up. But the numbers don’t lie, and neither do the cops. They’re out there, waiting for me to slip up. I can hear the cameras humming, like a swarm of bees, and the floodlights make everything feel like a stage. I’m just trying to stay ahead of their game, but it’s getting harder every minute. Cathy They know what you do, though. The cops don't lie. So why are you worried? Claude Franklin Mulweg Because the cops don’t see the whole picture. They’ve got their screens and their numbers, but they’re missing the truth. I’m trying to make it all balance here, in my own way. The TV’s been on since dawn, showing me things that don’t add up either—reporters talking about me like I’m some kind of animal. But I know what really happened. It’s all in the ledger. Cathy Peter was a popular man, though. Most people won't believe you when you say he was stealing. It sounds like you killed him and want some kind of alibi. I'm not sure if that's the right word, though. Claude Franklin Mulweg Alibi? No, that’s not it. It’s about the truth in the numbers. My father kept two sets of books, just like the generals in that movie. One for the congregation and one for himself. I’ve got the real ledger here, and it shows where all the money went—into his pockets. But no one wants to hear that because he was a man of God. They’d rather believe a lie than face the truth. Cathy Are you a man of god, Claude? Claude Franklin Mulweg Am I a man of God? That’s a laugh. My father was the preacher, not me. But he wasn’t what people thought either. He had his own truths and totals that didn't add up to anything holy. Now, with all these cops outside and the cameras watching, it feels like I’m trapped in some kind of twisted audit, trying to reconcile my actions with the lies he told. Cathy Why not surrender, Mad Dog? Claude Franklin Mulweg Surrender? That’s easy for you to say, sitting in your studio with the gray skies outside. You don’t have the cops at your door and a ledger full of lies. I’ve got to make this balance, Cathy. Every number has to add up right or it all falls apart. The floodlights are making everything too bright, like they’re trying to wash away the truth. But I won’t let them. Not yet. Cathy Sadly, though? You sound like Slim Pickens did in Dr. Strangelove. As if you're going to ride the bomb to hell. Claude Franklin Mulweg Slim Pickens, huh? Riding the bomb. That’s a thought I hadn’t considered. But here in this room, with the TV flickering and the cops waiting outside, it feels more like I’m stuck in a bad audit. The smoke from my cigarette curls up towards the sweating glass, and every so often, I hear the reporters shifting below. The door’s taped shut, and the revolver rests on the ledger like a paperweight. It’s all about making sure everything adds up before they break in. Cathy When did you first realize Peter was stealing? Claude Franklin Mulweg The discrepancies started piling up in the early '60s. I was working for my father, keeping the books, but the numbers never added up. He’d say it was for the Lord’s work, but I saw where the money went—into his own pockets. It wasn’t until I found the second ledger that I realized how deep the theft went. Now, here I am, trying to reconcile it all in this hotel room, with the cops outside and the TV casting an eerie glow on the walls. The smoke from my cigarette curls up, and I can hear the reporters murmuring below. It’s all about the truth in the totals, Cathy. That’s what I’m fighting for. Cathy How can you possibly reconcile anything at this point, Mad Dog? It might be a good idea to just give in. Claude Franklin Mulweg Give in? That’s not how audits work, Cathy. Every number has to balance, every discrepancy accounted for. I’ve got the ledger here, and it shows where all the money went—into his pockets. But no one wants to hear that because he was a man of God. They’d rather believe a lie than face the truth. Cathy It sounds like there isn't much you can do, really. You may be right morally, but you're dead right, insofar as they're going to get you, either way. You want to do this honorably, right? Step out of the hotel room. That's what I'd do. Claude Franklin Mulweg Honorably? You think stepping out with my hands up is honorable? That’s just surrender, Cathy. And in this audit of life, I’ve got to make sure every action balances the books. The cops outside don’t care about the truth; they’re just here to close the ledger on me. But I won’t let them do it until everything adds up right.
