damned_institute | Day 55: Intercom, Evening

Snow doubled in number as the day transitioned into the evening hours. Unfortunately, none of the patients were allowed the time to enjoy the weather changes. They were instead greeted by the telltale jingle of the intercom, signaling their cue to return indoors.

Once again, they heard the voice of a familiar female. She sounded unchanged from her previous announcements, her intonation as clear and as flat as ever.

"Attention all subjects and personnel. All subjects are to return to their assigned rooms for their evening meal. Lights Out will commence shortly after."

The woman paused, seemingly for effect.

"All personnel: you are to report to your stations. Thank you."

The intercom clicked off.

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"Business as usual, I'm afraid." It was odd that Badd had brought that up--Javert would have thought he'd have been here long enough to hear the basics, especially since there were people he knew here. "The impossible is possible here, or so it would seem. Have you spoken yet to any other patients from your precinct? Evidently it is possible to take patients from different times, bizarre as that might sound. It would certainly explain why these patients claimed they saw people whom they believed to be dead."

He tapped his journal with his pen. "There is, however, another possible explanation. These encounters. Did they occur at night or during the day?"

"Day. They weren't dreams."

Badd rolled his eyes. He'd heard that claim at least half a dozen times since arriving here, in one form or another. Kay had bought into it, which given her general silliness wasn't hugely surprising, and Lana had bought into it before he'd reminded her that it was more likely that she was just missing chunks of her memory, and Gant had claimed it and that he really had no explanation for. But he'd really thought Javert had more sense.

"You know, people keep telling me that," he said slowly. "Including a few from my precinct. And I know what they say--one person says you're a horse, ignore them, three people say it and you should buy a saddle. Overwhelming witness testimony is almost as good as evidence." He was skipping over part of the metaphor but he assumed Javert would know the rest. "But there's this one small thing you seem to be forgetting."

Badd made a plucking motion at his lips. He lacked a lollipop, but muscle memory died hard. When he spoke again it was in a louder, harsher tone. "Time travel is impossible! What in the heck is wrong with you?"

The sudden hostility from Badd was unexpected. It shouldn't have been, but so many of the patients here had accepted his explanation without question that the change was jarring. Javert himself had been skeptical at first, though the flashlights and radios had won him over quickly. Less simple to accept had been his roommate's claim of monsters--but that, too, had been confirmed in time.

He understood, or at least he believed he did, what Badd's train of thought was. And with the detective's time so apparently close to this one, convincing him would be a difficult job.

Not that he considered it his job to convince the other man. He'd come round to it in time, or he'd wallow in his own denial until the end. Quick-thinking as Badd had seemed the previous night, Javert didn't feel much inclination to argue the point with him.

"Go on, then," he said dryly, seemingly unaffected by Badd's outburst. "Ask your contacts here what the last date they remember was. I guarantee you it won't be the same as yours, and it isn't amnesia, either. Those dead family friends--did your source tell you if they looked younger or older than you last remember them? Do you really think you're the only sane man here? Don't flatter yourself. It'll only end in injury."

He was really starting to wonder, actually. “People can be drugged, and as confusing as this place is I don’t blame a lot of the weaker-minded people for buying into the lies. But I’m a lot less likely to believe that this place has a time machine in the attic than I do that the whole thing is a massive hoax intended to drive us mad.” He waved his clasped hand at Javert, as if pointing an invisible stick. “And even if they did, why dig up people who are so closely connected to us? There’s a master plan hiding in the background here and I’m going to find out what it is. Tonight, if possible. You want evidence, I'll serve it up to you on a silver platter, but time travel is not the simplest answer. If anything, it's the stupidest.”

He'd find the lie, the contradiction is the phantom's story. It was impossible that one didn't exist.

Javert shook his head. "Keep asking. Ask patients whom you don't recognize, who claim to come from different worlds and future times. Their stories match up more often than not. I asked when I first arrived. There's no-one here closely connected to me. Is it impossible to believe? Certainly. But there are patients here who have unbelievable powers, and no logical explanation for them. Where do you think I got this sword?" He gestured at the blade, the finely crafted hilt. "A young girl made it for me out of scrap metal. I don't have to tell you there are no forges within a ten-mile radius of this building, and certainly no reason for an insane asylum to store weapons of this quality."

No doubt Badd believed he was mad now, too. There was little point in arguing that he had traveled at least a century into the future--not when he had no proof, and when anything he claimed was unknown could easily be ascribed to amnesia. "I wish you best of luck searching tonight, then. This place is certainly meant to drive us mad, and undoubtedly there is some sort of master plan, but that isn't part of it."

Badd hadn't been able to see the weaponry from his position, and when he stood to peek over the desk his eyes widened. Well, damn. There were cleverly made shivs and then there was something like that. And was that an ax?

"Impossible swords have nothing to do with impossible time travel," he pointed out, still staring at the sword and ax. Unbelievable powers, indeed. Were they talking about magic now? "Those don't actually prove anything. I trust them even less if they're directly handing the weapons to you rather than confiscating them as illegal goods and punishing you for having them in the first place. Someone's playing you for a fool, stop trying to take the easy way out by believing them."

Though he wouldn't mind getting that girl's number and asking if she also dealt in firearms...

Day 55: Intercom, Evening

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