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damned_institute2011-05-18 06:54 pm
herr-inspektor.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_institute2011-05-18 06:54 pm
Entry tags:
Day 56: The Bookworm (Late Afternoon)
"Hold on a second. I want to check something."
Lunge paused in front of the book store, frowning a little. He'd looked in the little shop a couple of times, just to get a better sense of Doyleton as a whole, but had yet to explore inside properly- understanding Doyleton hadn't especially been high on his list of priorities, but after their conversation last night he found himself curious about a few details here and there. It didn't seem that L had any plans for the rest of the day, so there wouldn't be any harm in stopping in to chase up his hunches.
'Artificial'. What did that mean, precisely? Precision, that was what they needed now, hard evidence instead of aimless, endless stabbing and theorising. It was also exactly what they were lacking. What constituted evidence in a place where everything experienced around you seemed to fall to the whims of one man and his computer?
Ah. Not quite one man. Aguilar apparently had at least one man under him to do the less notable jobs, like working the intercom back at the Institute. At any rate, it was likely that their reality was just so easily moulded as it had been before. It would be interesting to see how far that applied to Doyleton, if they peeled back the corners and took a good, hard look at what lay beneath the obvious. Details, details; the people seemed genuine enough at a glance, but what about after an interview? And the books? He hadn't yet found a town that didn't pride itself on the single non-fiction novel written about it, its heritage. But did this town even have a heritage? Or was it purely the invention of two men, Landel and the man it was potentially named for?
A gust of wind ripped past his cheeks, chilling the Inspector to the core even through his heavy coat. He hadn't felt especially bad leaving Edgar at the Twin Pines- he'd lived through his own session, after all, and they weren't ever fatal- but even so he couldn't help but think that the cold would hardly be what the man needed.
Pushing the door open, he held it aside for L to head in before him. Silently, he wondered if they were thinking the same thing- they were generally on the same page for the most part, but occasionally it felt as though he were somehow working lightyears ahead of him, consuming and digesting information at an unthinkable rate. Most of the time, though, it was clear that the man was just as in the dark as he was.
[TEAM LARS VS HARRISON FORD THE FIRST, GET]
Lunge paused in front of the book store, frowning a little. He'd looked in the little shop a couple of times, just to get a better sense of Doyleton as a whole, but had yet to explore inside properly- understanding Doyleton hadn't especially been high on his list of priorities, but after their conversation last night he found himself curious about a few details here and there. It didn't seem that L had any plans for the rest of the day, so there wouldn't be any harm in stopping in to chase up his hunches.
'Artificial'. What did that mean, precisely? Precision, that was what they needed now, hard evidence instead of aimless, endless stabbing and theorising. It was also exactly what they were lacking. What constituted evidence in a place where everything experienced around you seemed to fall to the whims of one man and his computer?
Ah. Not quite one man. Aguilar apparently had at least one man under him to do the less notable jobs, like working the intercom back at the Institute. At any rate, it was likely that their reality was just so easily moulded as it had been before. It would be interesting to see how far that applied to Doyleton, if they peeled back the corners and took a good, hard look at what lay beneath the obvious. Details, details; the people seemed genuine enough at a glance, but what about after an interview? And the books? He hadn't yet found a town that didn't pride itself on the single non-fiction novel written about it, its heritage. But did this town even have a heritage? Or was it purely the invention of two men, Landel and the man it was potentially named for?
A gust of wind ripped past his cheeks, chilling the Inspector to the core even through his heavy coat. He hadn't felt especially bad leaving Edgar at the Twin Pines- he'd lived through his own session, after all, and they weren't ever fatal- but even so he couldn't help but think that the cold would hardly be what the man needed.
Pushing the door open, he held it aside for L to head in before him. Silently, he wondered if they were thinking the same thing- they were generally on the same page for the most part, but occasionally it felt as though he were somehow working lightyears ahead of him, consuming and digesting information at an unthinkable rate. Most of the time, though, it was clear that the man was just as in the dark as he was.
[TEAM LARS VS HARRISON FORD THE FIRST, GET]
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He nodded at the older woman and the girl behind the counter (the latter looked like she might remember him; Indy wondered if she'd thought of anything else about the town worth knowing) and shut the door firmly behind him as he moved to meet the two men. "Afternoon," he greeted them. "Nothing like a book on a day like this."
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Trusting Lunge to understand his implication, L followed him into the shop. He had spent all his own allotted money at Callahan's, and even if he hadn't, he doubted that he'd see anything in The Bookworm that interested him any more than the majority of the contents of the library at the Institute did. It seemed improbable that vital clues would be hidden in the stacks in either place for anyone to find--even more improbable in Doyleton, where any facades were nailed down too firmly to be prone to slipping. Nonetheless, if it was the town's only major information center, apart from gossiping citizens, it would be better to see what was and was not available than to make a broad assumption.
L glanced at Jones when he joined them a moment later. Jones's hand was bandaged. A look of surprise passed over L's face, replaced quickly by a troubled frown. "You're injured. What happened?"
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No town hall or government- and no schools either, in spite of the handful of adolescent part-timers he'd seen around. It was conceivable that the students in the town were ferried out to the surrounding areas, but the place seemed so lonely and distant that it seemed strange to imagine other settlements nearby.
As he entered the store after L, however, he was soon distracted by the presence of another patient- Doctor Jones. Lunge's gaze dipped briefly to the man's hand, which was bandaged, before tilting his head and giving a flat smile. "Unfortunately, I don't have much time for recreation here." He nodded down. "I trust that isn't too serious?"
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While he was talking, his gaze fell on a rack with what looked like the local newspaper. Huh, he hadn't noticed that before. Indy picked up the top copy and--after a quick glance at the pair behind the counter to gauge whether reading unbought merchandise was likely to get him kicked out--unfolded it and flipped quickly through. It was obviously a weekly paper, given the range of days listed in the stories; it also didn't contain a single article about anything outside the area. "All local news," he commented, setting it back on the rack. "Maybe they get all their national news from the television."
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Just what did you do in a town like this, anyway? So far, Battler's day seemed to be divided between eating and aimless wandering, which was fine to a point, but as much as he could enjoy the simplicity and short mental vacation, he was starting to get restless. It wasn't like he was unfriendly or didn't like meeting new people—just the opposite, in fact—but when it was only that and no semblance of familiarity to be found anywhere, it could start to get kind of rough.
On the other hand, this place looked pretty promising. Where he might normally delve directly into the books, in this case, his first impulse was actually to take a look at the newspapers, but what he found wasn't exactly all that useful. Nothing but mundane events, and no indication of where or even when they were. What kind of a newspaper didn't have the date on it, anyway....? Looking in other sections held similar results. That was .... weird, and honestly kind of creepy, especially considering it was more than likely intentional.
.... It was almost like this place wasn't even real. An illusion of a town to give a false sense of security in a world cut off from reality. It was no different than Rokkenjima, surrounded by storms and with no way to communicate to the outside world. .... Well, maybe he was jumping to conclusions, but that was certainly what it felt like. After all ... from here, where did you really go? Was there anything at all? If anybody had any real answers about this place, they wouldn't be stuck in this mess at all.
At any rate, it seemed he was wasting his time. He supposed he could ask a local, but ... Any attempts at approaching anyone from this town were uncomfortable at best. He couldn't say he was treated badly, exactly, but they all seemed weary .... and a bit scared. Why was that....? There was that cover story, that they were mentally ill, but was that really all it was? However they may have felt about his "condition," he was totally harmless, and it wasn't like he'd done anything wrong...
He shrugged to himself bitterly, pulling a random book from the shelves and settling in at one of the benches to read. He felt like he could kind of use something like this.
[FOR THE COUSIN.]
/slams into so belatedly.....
Lion wasn't often frustrated, but her moments weren't exactly rare. Right now, she could feel it, but she hadn't blamed anyone but herself.
Nonetheless, there was still some part of the day left. She could still make good use of the time.
Sooner or later Lion ended up in a bookstore; she wasn't quite expecting her cousin to be around here, as he never did seem the sort to particularly enjoy reading... Well, it never hurt to try, either. After all, she was trying to be thorough here.
So in she went, and quickly found that the atmosphere was a little pleasant, much like she would have expected a bookstore to be in a quaint little town, especially after coming in from the frigid temperatures outside. It was almost a little tempting to just grab something potentially interesting off the shelf, plop down in a chair somewhere, and get lost in a novel for a little while...
But, Lion soon found out as she turned the corner of one of the aisles she wandered down into, someone had already beaten her to it. Someone who she didn't actually think would be doing so already.
"... Battler?" she spoke up to him, sounding only mildly surprised.
(dance_okok)
"Who--..." he'd started to ask, but instead, his face clouded over. It was that, wasn't it...? Someone else who remembered him, even though they'd never met. Now that he thought about it, there had been someone else who had contacted him hadn't there? It was funny, but he'd forgotten all about that. Or less that he'd forgotten, and more that he really just didn't want to think about it. ... He probably should have known he wouldn't be granted that kind of escapism for very long. Even if he wanted to, issues like this couldn't be put aside for ever, could they? And now that it was right in front of him, he wasn't so irresponsible he'd continue to leave it hanging. It'd be better to sort things out as soon as possible.
"How should I put this..." he wondered aloud. There were a lot of things he could say in this situation, but most of them seemed kind of harsh. ... Was there any delicate way of telling someone who expected you to recognize them that you didn't remember them at all? It was awkward enough when you'd only forgotten. Here, on the other hand, there wasn't even some kind of reassurance that something would bring it back. .... There was no way for him to remember, because for him, it had never happened.
He shut the book he'd been reading and set it aside. "Do you mind sitting down? There's ... probably a lot we have to talk about." Ahhh, dammit, that way too cryptic, wasn't it...? Nobody was going to be able to figure out what he was talking about if he put it like that. ... Well, it was still a start. There was plenty of time, wasn't there? It wasn't like there was pressing need to explain everything all at once.
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...So it really was true that Battler hadn't remembered-- no, known her was the correct term to use here. He nearly began to ask who she was, hadn't he? That on top of their exchange on the bulletin... It was an outcome she had dreaded a little to face, but the truth was Lion knew she should have expected it. This place had brought others in from all sorts of universes, with time and placement being as unpredictable as a fly's direction; that's how Lion was beginning to understand it, at any rate. And so, naturally, Battler had come from a universe, Fragment-- whatever they may be called-- that was not hers.
The only one Lion existed in.
Of all the thousands upon thousands of these universes Rokkenjima's tale and the Ushiromiya family's glory were present in, there was only one small chance in all of that would Battler had come out knowing Lion has a fellow family member. Surely, it would have taken a miracle for their meeting right now to have the opposite outcome-- one so small that Lion couldn't stay crushed for long that it didn't happen. Of course, she was disappointed-- a familiar face who couldn't even recall you just wasn't the same-- but at the very least she couldn't say she was surprised at all.
"Very well," Lion responded, as contently as if this were like any other meeting on a normal day. But Battler seemed troubled, she could tell, simply by the expression on his face; it was nothing like his usual cheery and confident disposition that he held that she had been familiar with. Not that it was too surprising; a supposed stranger just approached him, after all, and his question from the day prior still rung clear in her mind-- had anyone remembered him when he didn't for them?
Lion sat down on a small chair across from him, intertwining hands in her lap; even now she still retained her regal posture with nothing casual about it. And then, another short pause, but before Battler had any chance of speaking up, she continued on, "I take it you might feel a little shamed that you can't remember me, correct? It's fine, I don't feel insulted. The truth is, I suppose the only simple way to put this is that you've yet to meet me at all."
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That last bit, however, definitely caught him by surprise. "Yeah, that's right," he nodded. ... It was the same explanation that he'd come up with. He thought he was going to start from the very beginning when he explained things, but had someone already beat him to the punch? ... But it was still kind of strange, hearing it on those terms, especially when what he'd been told himself didn't match what he'd come up with on his own. Could they be thinking the same way, even though he hadn't told anyone about it...? ... Well, he wasn't about to complain. If it could already be thought of like that, then this was going to be much easier for to explain.
"I'm not sure how you know about this, so sorry if I'm just repeating a bunch of things, you already know, but... Apparently, this sort of thing is pretty common here. Sometimes people will appear here and suddenly vanish. Except that, sometimes they come back, and don't remember a thing about the time they'd spent here. The way I heard about it, it sounded like they're ... 'reset' and have had their head screwed with somehow, but I don't believe that explanation at all. It's ... an interesting story, and it might be good for some kind of horror story, but that sort of thing shouldn't be possible, right? Instead, it's exactly like you said. ... 'Ushiromiya Battler' may have been here before, but that Battler and I aren't the same."
It was like playing a new piece on the board. It only made sense those variations wouldn't have the same memories, right? They couldn't even be called the same person, so much as one of who knew how many possibilities. ... He wondered if what he was saying was going to get across, or if he'd have to explain it more. Honestly, in most cases, he wouldn't have bothered at all. It was ... strange, and not many were going to understand or believe it outside certain experiences. Even he wasn't really sure if he should be accepting something like that so directly, but still, it was better than the alternative, wasn't it....? There was just no way in hell he was going to accept that he had something missing. And even if that weren't the case, it was hard to completely deny something he'd experienced for himself, right?
no subject
...Then, on second thought, if what Battler were saying was true-- what more did they want from him? To think he'd have to experience this a second time, regardless of his memory or not--
Well, it wasn't any use feeling angry about something you couldn't help. One's mind and energies were better put towards the things they could.
"If I may be honest," Lion began after he had finished, sounding as though she were choosing her words carefully; most times she was actually a proficient speaker, but even this was a topic she wasn't entirely sure how to approach. Battler was already troubled enough by this situation, so what was the way to put all of this in a way that wouldn't add to it? "I'm fairly new to this institute myself-- today is day two, if we're counting-- and I hadn't known about that certain piece of information."
A small shift in her chair later, Lion attempted to feel less uncertain and more confident in where she had been going with this. "So, in short," she went on, "the chances that you and I, whether it's the Battler that you know yourself as or a different one entirely, have ever met here... I would assume, at best, they are very minimal.
"But, perhaps I should put it in this perspective." Lion donned a more personable smile, if only to emphasize that she wasn't harboring any sort of ill intent by revealing this. "Since I know your name, it's only proper that you know mine. ...I am Ushiromiya Lion, and I live in Grandfather's mansion on Rokkenjima."
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... No, it wasn't it in his head. This really was getting seriously messed up. "Ushiromiya ... Lion ...?" He repeated the name slowly, but it didn't feel quite natural. It couldn't have been a mistake. Ushiromiya wasn't exactly a common name. They'd once been much bigger, but by the time Grandfather had become the head, the branch families were already slowly dying off. ... No, it couldn't have been that simple even they still existed, because even in that case, only the main family would be permitted on the island. But....
He frowned, trying to find the right words, but he'd never been very good at treading lightly in these kinds of situations. "It's not like I'm saying you're lying, exactly, but... I've never heard a name that in my family at all."
Then, what? What the hell did this mean? Was he seriously supposed to believe he'd had some hidden relative he'd never even knew existed at all? Maybe it was possible, but not in such an obvious way. .... There was no way someone else lived in that mansion and he'd never even heard about it, right...?
omg this is so lame and short i'm sorry
"It's... How should I put this?" Her eyes then wandered upwards in the air as she tapped at her chin thoughtfully, taking a moment to mull on it. "... Shall I use your example? Only in this case I should say, 'Ushiromiya Battler and I definitely know each other, but that Battler and you are not the same'. To phrase it simply."
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"So you're saying that ... a world like that exists. One where we know each other. But in that case, ...." he paused for a moment, trying to figure exactly what he was trying to ask. Several questions came to mind, but he wasn't really sure how to sort through them. Why would someone like that exist there but in none of the ones that he'd seen? How was that possible...?
"... Who are you?" he settled on eventually. That would cover about everything, wouldn't it? Instead of something as simple as a name, exactly what their connection was.
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"As I mentioned," thus, Lion began. "I live within the mansion. Krauss is my father and Natsuhi my mother, making Jessica my little sister. And so, that makes us cousins. ...I'm simply just another family member, is all."
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"Now that I think about it, there was a story like that, wasn't there?" he thought aloud. "A baby that got thrown over a cliff nineteen years ago. Could that... be you?"
Or a version of, he should probably say. After all, Lion was perfectly fine.
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Fortunately, it didn't take long to deliver Peter to the diner and the time of day meant that it wasn't too crowded in there. Not that the town seemed to have enough people to make a serious crowd at any point, but...
In any case, he managed to grab Peter a makeshift icepack. His ankle didn't look too bad, so Sam figured he'd be recovered within a couple of days or so. Probably less, given this place's sped up healing. He still had no theories on how they were pulling that one off, but on the list of things to solve, that one was pretty low.
Twenty minutes and a bit of limping on Peter's part later, Sam found himself at...the bookstore. Again, in fact, since he'd been here just earlier to pick up a box of paperclips, but he doubted the owners minded him dropping in again. With the size of the town, he had a feeling they were used to seeing the same faces several times a day and while the locals hadn't been waiting with open arms and flowers, they'd all been nice enough folks.
Plus, it was good he had the chance to come back here, actually. He hadn't considered it when he'd been still looking for something more useful to buy, but now that evening was closing in and he hadn't come up with much to do with his money, his mind fell back on what it knew best: research. And that meant books. The town wasn't an academic library, but considering he didn't even have access to Google right now, the bookstore was a definite step up.
He glanced at Peter. "Looking for anything in particular?"
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Though she was the only one to do so. The streets were looking mighty barren at this time of day. Everyone must have huddled up inside somewhere already. No one was even around to catch him during the much more dignified leaning he did on Sam's arm as they traversed the town towards that old fashioned fun time spot, the Bookworm. Peter had already been there earlier on, but he'd had little time to investigate the selection. The idea of perusing the books brightened his spirits just enough. Sam had good taste. The guy could have dragged him into Pearl's for pedicures.
"Um..." he said thoughtfully, gazing around at the shelves. He gingerly detached himself from Sam's arm, standing mostly one-legged with the ball of his bad foot gently resting on the floor. "I wouldn't mind catching up on some school stuff. Like, textbooks. I'm probably so behind by now. I had a bio exam coming up...uh. I guess two days ago."
Ouch. His GPA. Peter cringed and prayed for a speedy escape from this madness. If not for the sake of life and liberty, then for the sake of his grades. He had worked hard to get where he was. If he was in this crap asylum for much longer he might lose his straight A streak. Or worse, repeat half the grade. With the schools he was aiming to get into, that was not happening.
"What about you?" Peter peered up at Sam, curious. Thinking back on it, Sam did seem like a reader. He was pretty reserved most of the time. "Are you a Tolstoy and Hemingway guy, or a Hawking and Sagan guy?" He gave a wry smile. "I promise not to judge if you're here for Harry Potter."
Sam was American, so he was in the clear for that. Theoretically. There had been no mention of American wizards in the books thus far. Though the books weren't done yet, so Peter could also be screwing himself over yet again.
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"Sciences, huh? Are they your thing?" Peter had to have had plenty of due dates, so the fact that bio came first to his mind meant it was either a favorite subject or an especially hated one.
A part of him felt a little out of sorts suddenly talking about classes again when there was so much else going on, but he didn't mind, either. It was nice, in a way. Kind of a reprieve. Temporary, yeah, but still.
He glanced back at the shelves, peering at the worn signs stuck on top. The last time he'd been here, there was an utter dearth of history, local or otherwise. Looked like that hadn't changed.
He pulled a book off the shelf, then put it back and returned the smile. "Not exactly. Though I lost them to a fire a few years ago, so I guess it wouldn't be a bad idea to replace them sometime."
What? Look, there were really only so many volumes on tort law he could go through before he needed a break and Harry Potter had been fantastical enough that the completely inaccurate representation of witchcraft hadn't bothered him. Which had always been the problem he'd had about the multitude of vampire novels out there. Granted, Dean had always taken issue much more than Sam ever had. Apparently, it didn't seem to matter that it was fiction.
"But," he went on, "I'm hoping to find something that might help answer a few questions about this place first. So, uh, Hawking this time, I suppose."
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It was simultaneously a point of pride and a point of shame to be the way he was. Being as geeky as he was helped with being Spider-Man; designing the webshooters, for one. World Wide Web know how was a huge bonus when you needed to keep tabs on shady figures and dig through closets for skeletons, and advanced bio and chemistry kept him from doing mountains of head scratching over his weekly dose of Frankensteins. There were more scientific endeavors gone wrong than right, and Peter constantly found himself cleaning up the mess.
On the downside, being a geek also guaranteed him a lifetime pass to Swirly Land.
Having Sam smile in return and actually admit that he had been reading Harry Potter only brightened Peter's own grin. It was just so normal. The kind of thing you'd bring up in a conversation with no ulterior motives or underlying fear of imminent bucket kicking. The kind of thing Landel's needed more of. And he had to admit, he seriously did not peg Sam as being a Potterhead. That was a little cool.
"Fire? Really?" His brows quirked up, both curious and a little mortified. "Geez. Sorry man. I'd offer to lend you mine if they weren't in another dimension." Peter set to examining the shelves opposite, clinging to the wooden planks and hobbling along in a manner slightly less clumsy than before. He figured it would be best to move along the conversation than question how and why Sam's books were lighting on fire. If this were New York, he would assume it was some epic drunken escapade and pry anyway. Because it was Landel's, he would assume it was a laser blast from a Martian cyborg and leave it well alone. Besides, the next tidbit Sam dropped was more up Peter's alley anyway.
"Ooooh. I see. Which part of the institute? Warping rings? Multiple worlds? Pink space gruel?" Peter leaned down, running his finger over a few titles thoughtfully. There was some texts on mathematics here, so biology couldn't be too far off. And neither could whatever Sam was looking for. "I might be able to help you look depending on what it is."