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damned_institute2011-05-18 06:54 pm
herr-inspektor.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_institute2011-05-18 06:54 pm
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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]
no subject
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."