Thomas Farring received his research funds and conducted his study after the Northern War. There were many trials in that time, and hate against the Northerners ran high.

Those bastards. The atrocities they committed - you can tell they're different. They're not like us.

But Farring was a scientist.

Here, at home, he set up a study. 40 participants. They would show up, along with a fellow researcher disguised as a volunteer, and draw a paper. While both papers would say 'teacher', the researcher would pretend he drew a 'student' paper. Then a chair, rigged for elecricity, a metal plate under one hand - the 'teacher' would be allowed to touch it, show that it delivered an unpleasant shock. The 'student' would be strapped in, and the 'teacher' and Farring would leave to another room.

(There the 'student' would be unstrapped, of course. It wasn't real, after all.)

Inside the other room was a board connected to wires. There was a red button and dial in the middle. The dial started at 'mild', and increased in increments. 'Painful'. 'Strong'. 'Severe'. 'Critical'. 'Danger'. 'XXX'. The 'teacher' would read questions into a speaker, and the 'student' would answer. Whenever they got a wrong answer, the 'teacher' was instructed to press the button, deliver a shock, and then crack the dial up. Screams, pleading, and so on would be coming through the speaker.

(It was a recording, of course. It wasn't real.)

Farring quizzed scientists from every branch as to the expected results. All experts but those from the military delivered a unanimous opinion: By the time they go to "strong", all volunteer 'teachers' would refuse to continue.

The military didn't answer at all.

*

Marco sacrifices screaming prisoner after prisoner. They were going to die anyway, he reminds himself. The army is ordering me to do this. We need the Stone to stop the rebellion in Ishbar. They're going to die anyway. It's not my fault.

His stomach turns. He's a doctor, not an executioner.

But he continues. They expect it of him.

*

Of the forty people tested, twenty-six went up to 'XXX'. Farring stared at his results, his eyes dry, his hands shaking. Sixty-seven percent of participants.

There would have been no repercussions, he thought, confused. It was just research. They didn't have to do it.

He'd watched them press the button, turn the dial. It was torture for them, their faces going white, lips thin, eyes wide. But they'd done it. They hadn't questioned.

*

Roy Mustang holds his gun in two sweat-slicked shaking hands. He can't breathe, the air is choking him. The couple stand together against the back wall. The man's picked up a photograph of his daughter and holds it to his chest as if Roy Mustang is going to be shooting them all, the entire family.

I don't want to do this, he thinks desperately, aiming. I don't want to do this.

"Do it," Grahn says.

He fires, fires again before the woman can scream. His stomach is in his throat; he can taste bile.

Later, he'll try to kill himself with the same gun and be ordered not to.

He won't have the strength to disobey then, either.

*

Farring worked frantically to bring the number lower. It's not human nature, he thought - he hoped. The experts were shocked. The military still had not replied. It couldn't be human nature. It must have been intimidation.

The results were identical with 40 women. 67%. The number lowered when he had an actor in the same room, screaming and writhing, but only to 40%. If the 'teacher' had to hold the victim's hand onto the electrical plate, due to the restraints seeming to come loose, the number lowered again, but only to 30%. They would cry, shake, mumble negations to themselves, no no no, but they would do it.

He tried everything he thought of.

Finally, he brought in more researches to pretend to also be 'teachers', along with the unwitting volunteers. When one of the researchers rebelled, the 'teacher' would not change.

But when two researches pretended rebellion, when it was a majority number, the volunteers almost always also rebelled, refused to push the dial any further, refused to touch the button, crying and terrified.

There would be no repercussions, he wanted to shout. Don't you understand? You can rebel at any time, all on your own! There will be no repercussions!

Ten percent continued on to 'XXX', but having ninety percent rebel seemed the best he could get.

*

"Fire on the crowd."

"Sir?"

"Drive them back."

The soldiers obeyed, firing at the angry mob who were throwing down alchemical objects, trashing them, rioting in the streets.

A child cried out, then gurgled.

"Douglas!"

Douglas's gun was loose in her hands. "Sir, I didn't mean to. I didn't see him. I didn't-"

"Keep firing!"

*

When the news of the massacre at Ishbar came, Farring put his head down and wept.

He burned his research the next day.