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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]
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."
no subject
"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.
no subject
"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."
no subject
"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.