The man hesitates. "I said, 'What the fuck is going on here, you pussy?" you scream at him.
"I am programmed not to tell you," the doctor said.
"What?" you ask. "What do you mean?"
"I am Project 3415-86012," the doctor replied. "My programming states that I am not allowed to brief subjects on the status of their conditions."
You grab the man by his neck. "Fuck your programming," you growl. "What the hell is happening?"
"Threats of violence do not concern me," the cyborg said casually. "Nor do actual attacks. I am programmed to self-destruct if my data is in danger of being infiltrated."
You cry out and raise your fist, but hesitate. Maybe you could get around his programming.