Day 56: The Bookworm (Late Afternoon)

[herr-inspektor.livejournal.com]

"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]

Comments

[its-the-mileage.livejournal.com]

It was starting to get dark as Indy turned back down Main Street, fed and re-medicated but no less eager to get out of the cold for that. He picked his next destination the same way he'd picked the one at noon: someone he needed to talk to headed into a shop and he followed suit. This time it was Lunge and Ryuuzaki, joined at the hip as usual. Indy jogged ahead to reach the door just behind them, breathing out white puffs on the way.

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."

[ryuuzaki]

"This is where I was planning to stop," L replied, then paused. When he spoke again, his tone was more thoughtful. "Don't you think it's weird that this town doesn't seem to have a library? No newspaper, no archives that we know of. That sheriff's office, but no mayor's office or town hall, at least not one that's accessible to us within the area we're allowed to explore. It's like there's no local government of any kind apart from the vague suggestion of law enforcement, and no proof that the law is ever enforced, or even that anyone ever breaks it. That is, it would be weird under ordinary circumstances. Under the circumstances as we understand them, though...." His mouth quirked as he allowed his words to trail off.

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?"

[herr-inspektor.livejournal.com]

There. He wasn't the only one at whom last night's notes had been eating away. L had been here twice, just the same as he had; had he noticed these things on their first trip, or only now that they had reason to see things through more cynical eyes? At a glance the town was little more than an unnervingly clean-cut throwback, but now that the sheen had worn off it would be interesting to see where the cracks lay- or rather, did not lie.

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?"

[its-the-mileage.livejournal.com]

"The basement," Indy replied shortly. That ought to be explanation enough, but since these contacts were based on exchanging information, he continued, "There are four rooms down there built around the four classical elements. 'Fire' didn't end well." And at Lunge's comment, he went on, "Anywhere else, it might be bad. Here I imagine it'll take a few days or a week to heal." He couldn't complain, but the strangeness of that rapid healing still wasn't lost on him.

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."