damned_institute | Day 38: Patients' Library

Entry tags:

Day 38: Patients' Library

The intercom rang out, disrupting what had turned out to be a rather pointless breakfast conversation, at least in Brainiac 5's eyes. He couldn't wait to put more distance between himself and Scar's blather of how logic, of all things, might not work the same way in this dimension. It was almost enough to make him believe that the man may very well have been a lion originally after all, as he'd never heard anything so very... ignorant and uneducated.

He quickly finished up the fruit he'd been nibbling on - he was no longer as hungry as he had been - and looked around automatically to see where Clark was. Unfortunately with the press of people around, some being led off to the library and others to the mentioned 'therapy sessions' - if that was what they really were - he had lost sight of the Kryptonian. Still there wasn't many places he could go, so Brainiac 5 would be able to catch up with him eventually to check on his condition and try and learn more about what had happened last night. That the Chapel had healed him - admittedly by passing his injuries to another - was interesting, but far more important in his eyes was what had happened to Clark and his powers. They hadn't been working correctly and that worried the Coluan boy more than he would normally have admitted. Without Clark's abilities... he wasn't sure what they would have to rely on in order to escape.

Another problem he would have to deal with was Grell... or, if he was to believe the notes on the bulletin board, the person pretending to be Grell. But that was going to require more careful planning before he made a move. Come to think of it, he had agreed to meet another in the library today on that same post that had sparked this whole mess. At least then he would have something of interest to look forward to, as he doubted any of the 21st century books were likely to be worthwhile to someone of his advanced intellect.

Following the nurses led him to what must have been the library; a reasonably large room filled with a range of archaic books on tall shelves, a few tables and chairs interspersed around the room. The Coluan boy couldn't refrain from wrinkling his nose in distaste as he entered the room, not liking the cumbersome books and the dust that he knew would have gathered on them; he much preferred the clean arrangement of his C.O.M.P.U.T.O. systems back in the Legion headquarters. It was much more practical then shelves and shelves of books on fictional worlds and dated information.

Trying to avoid as much of the room as possible, Brainiac 5 settled himself down on a chair to wait, keeping an eye out for a tall, dark-haired man with a red... something on his forehead.

[for Homura]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Near sighed slightly, moving to sit on the floor. The position would look awkward to most, with his left knee tucked close to his chest, while the inside of his right calf lay flat on the floor, twisted in a manner many might not be able to accomplish. But for Near, this position was perfectly natural, and allowed him to think most clearly.

"Such as the idea of monsters coming out at night?" It seemed the most likely. Near reached into his pocket, pulling out a small police car and setting it on the floor before pushing it around. "It would seem farfetched to the average person. But they are there, and they won't stop their attempts to eat you just because you'd like to think they aren't real."

Of course, proving time discrepancies was a bit more difficult. In Near's case, it had never been something he couldn't believe in. The presence of assorted others from his world, even those who were still alive in Near's time but significantly younger here, made the reality of the situation both obvious and unquestionable. For this person, who likely hadn't had the same luxury, it would of course be much more difficult to grasp.

"Unfortunately, there is no way to truly prove it." At least none that Near was willing to share. The situation of his own world was delicate enough without carelessly revealing details to strangers. Especially now, with Matsuda, Mello, and Mikami Teru all in the room. He heard their conversations of course, including Matsuda's questioning L's presence. That was interesting, especially given the recent condition of the man. Mello must have been considering it a possibility, given the bulletin he had put up asking about the behavior of later-vanished patients. "So you can accept it, or you can not accept it. But if you are from a time before the publication of those books, certain pieces of technology must be confusing to you as well, along with the medications available. Perhaps even the nurse's uniforms are strange. And my little car."

Near pressed down on the machine, making it's lights flash for the man's benefit.

"Monsters? I don't know what all is out there, but all I've seen so far is a swarm of killer bugs. Nothing you couldn't pick up on a quick trip to the tropics, if you were sadistic enough. And from what I've heard, I'm willing to bet the rest are nothing more than exotic animals that have been experimented on. Anything more dramatic than that is fear talking." Indy slammed the book shut and wedged it back onto the shelf. He kept standing.

Of course, his tirade hadn't explained away that strange woman with the red beaked mask. But Pierson was probably right about that one being some kind of projection anyway.

But the kid's next words sounded all too familiar. The technology was definitely strange. He hadn't really thought about the nurse's uniforms, but there was something off about them. Some of the stuff in the storage room last night had been a little unusual too. And Indy had to admit that he'd never seen a toy car that lit up before.

"All right, fine," he said. "Let's assume for now that I'm actually giving any credence to this screwball time-travel business of yours. What year is it now?"

"You wouldn't call those results monsters?" Near smiled faintly, though he still didn't look at the man he was speaking to. Outside of that, he had no reaction to the person's words, or his actions. That he slammed a book or spoke in anger was nothing Near hadn't seen before, and nothing that required a response.

He continued to push the car along a steady path, moving it in slow circles. There was doubt in the man's mind, enough to possibly consider that Near might be speaking the truth. But he wouldn't admit it, of course. That was why he spoke as if he were humoring Near, by giving the odd little boy with the car a chance to be heard, if that was really what he wanted. Next might even come a pat on the head, though Near certainly had no desire to be patronized.

Still, in this place where he needed allies, such contact was a necessary evil. And, Near had to admit, part of him was enjoying this game. Perhaps it was the lack of physical puzzles that made him seek out this human one now.

"An anonymous person on the bulletin has been checking medical magazines in the upstairs library." Though Mello hadn't posted on that today, suggesting that he had either not had time to add the side trip to his list of tasks, or had felt that it was no longer necessary now that a time was established. Most likely, it was the latter. "By the system of time based on what was found there, it would be late 2008 or early 2009 at this point, though this has not been confirmed. I haven't seen these magazines myself, but the medicines in the pharmacy supported the estimate of time given when I checked them, both in date, and in the brands included."

"No, I wouldn't," Indy replied. "People are kicking around the word in a way that implies something supernatural. An explainable origin doesn't make whatever's out there any less dangerous, but it would cut down on the mass paranoia being caused by Landel's mind games and a lot of overactive imaginations."

The kid's estimate was shaky at best--based on some unknown person's possibly-forged report. Medical magazines weren't much help either; if he did assume that Landel was seeding the library with books with false publication dates, it wouldn't be much of a stretch for the Institute to fake magazines while they were at it. Even medicines could be relabeled as something unfamiliar, if you were really dedicated. But that still left Indy at a loss to explain away a couple of points in the kid's analysis.

"The system of time?" he asked. "What do you mean? And how on earth do you know what brands of medicine are supposed to be in use in 2009?" He was trying to be nice, but there were some hard questions that needed to get asked here.

"People are also claiming they themselves are supernatural beings." Things that did exist in Near's world, though he didn't point that out yet. This man likely still believed on some level that he was humoring Near, if only to explain to himself why he had listened this long. It was likely only a matter of time before he proclaimed the whole thing nonsense and stalked off, but Near saw no reason to push the man to that point with any additional force. Thus, the shinigami which he knew to exist were left unmentioned.

So too was why he believed the account of the anonymous. Though Mello had made his identity known, Near of course wouldn't reveal that connection carelessly. Even if Yagami Light had vanished, something that had yet to be confirmed beyond the bulletin and Matsuda Touta, Mikami Teru was still present, and thus a threat.

"As I said, the continuation of this system is unverified, since I don't believe the dates were checked last night on the magazines. But they were checked for two consecutive nights--as we perceive them." Near picked up his car, having it drive over two imaginary hills, the peaks of which reached the level of his eyes. "These checks indicated that instead of mere hours, three months of time had passed in the duration."

Mello's conversation was taking an interesting turn. Was Mello going to attempt to have Matsuda follow him? If L were still himself, it'd be difficult to accomplish; Near knew this from his interactions with the Japanese task force, and simply because Matsuda hadn't been the one to call him. But with L's condition and his statements to the detective in the Chapel only days ago, it was likely that Matsuda was seeking a new form of guidance. Had Mello been revealed to Matsuda as L's heir, then? There'd be no other reason to compel the approach; Mello was guilty of the elder Yagami's death. That alone wouldn't endear any members of the task force to Mello.

Able to eavesdrop and consider without any impact on his own conversation, Near continued. His conversation might well end in a few moments, however, depending on the man's reaction to his statement. "As for how I know about the medicines, the answer is simple. I was taken from a time after 2009."

Indy made a concerted effort to keep his impatience in check. "People are claiming a lot of things, but I'd need a lot more proof than anyone has shown me so far to buy into any of them. Monsters? Supernatural beings? Time travel? All I see so far is some kind of strong-arm hospital messing with people's heads for research purposes, and even that's pushing it."

He folded his arms. "And as a scientist, I can tell you: two data points aren't enough to constitute a trend. Unless there's something you're not telling me about those checks, your anonymous friend has no evidence whatsoever that one of the staff didn't just put two different issues down on the same table on two different days. That doesn't prove that the dates are legitimate. Even if you assume they are, it certainly doesn't prove that time is passing more slowly here than it is anywhere else. I leave back issues of journals around my office all the time."

This was what he had expected from most of the patients--a lot of paranoia without the benefit of logic to back it up. It wasn't their fault; this was, evidently, exactly what Landel had been working them up to. But if he was going to have to debunk another crackpot theory every single time he got within earshot of another person, he was going to have to become a hermit to get anything done.

"Look," he said after a minute, trying not to be too hard on the poor kid, "I'm sorry I snapped at you. But if you're going to get me to believe any of this, you're going to have to show me something that's not so easily faked."

"There's no need to apologize." Near certainly was used to dealing with anger, after all. And for his part, the boy's expression had remained virtually unchanged; he still hadn't looked directly at the man, nor broken his monotone when he spoke. "Your points are valid, and speak well of your reasoning. I'm actually rather pleased to have spoken to you."

"There is evidence to back-up my claims, but nothing I can discuss here. We are being listened to, just as I'm listening to others." Facts that were hardly unknown to Mello or Near, though it wasn't Mello that Near had concerns about. Mikami Teru was present, and Near had no intention of revealing his connections to Mello and L simply to prove his point. At least not where they would be overheard. "But unfortunately, anything I might present to you could be dismissed as the delusional ramblings of a mentally ill teenager. Much of what I could tell you would be based on my own experiences in my world, and conclusions based on what has occurred both there and here. For example, I know of several people who are dead in my world, yet are alive here. Something that, logically speaking, should be impossible."

Near stopped the small car suddenly, an imaginary driver slamming on imaginary breaks. "Yet it has happened. And even if I want to not believe it's possible, I must accept what is before my eyes as the truth. But I have others here from my world, and that allows me to more easily accept this. You, on the other hand, have yet to encounter anyone you know, be they patient or visitor. Thus you haven't crashed into that wall just yet. And it's natural to avoid collisions when we can, isn't it?"

Indy was a little unsettled. No one he'd met so far, with the possible exception of Aurion at breakfast, seemed to have the kind of internal logical consistency he would have imagined he could expect from mental patients with lines like these. No one insisted they were right, no one had elaborate stories to try to explain why everything they were saying made complete sense. This kid just put his cards on the table and said, I know it sounds crazy; that's all I've got. Pierson hadn't even been interested in justifying himself that far. And that kind of insanity--if insanity it was, or delusions, or what-have-you--was tough to negotiate.

Either way, as logical as the boy sounded, Indy was going to need more than that; looked like he'd have to get it somewhere else, though. He tried a different tack. "What do you think Landel wants with us? Especially with so many kids?"

"That's the question, isn't it?" Perhaps the one answer that most wished to know. What was the purpose of bringing them here; by solving that puzzle, they could perhaps find a way to escape the maze that had been constructed around them. Even if it meant resorting to purposely going against the purpose--assuming that method would work. But Near wouldn't put it past the Head Doctor to simply sweep them away if that happened, some how. Clean the slate, and start over again. Something of that nature seemed to have happened once already. It wasn't out of the question that it would be repeated.

"I think it's an experiment. Perhaps psychological in nature, since that seems to be the most preyed upon of the senses. Making us question what we know to be logically true, for example." Near picked up his toy, flipping it over so he could spin the wheels with his thumb. "Each night the Institute seems to be reset from the night before. Rooms that were previously raided appear untouched. Supplies that are in patient possession are restocked in exactly the same amount. Even the things that we start with--flashlights, radios, batteries--are replaced as if they hadn't been tampered with at all for the new occupants. Our environment, something that in a scientific experiment would be a control."

"And then if we consider the building itself, we have something that seems much like a maze, don't we? Corridors leading to rooms, perhaps containing prizes, or monsters. Or both." Yes, even the radio was part of it. In the metaphor, the prizes would be considered cheese. "And when the rats complete enough of the maze, more gets added on. The basement, for example, or the outside. And the scurrying continues for a set amount of time."

"But even considering that, we still don't know what's being tested, exactly. Our wills, perhaps, or something else." Near watched a tire turn. "They don't alter age, so either that isn't a factor in the experiment, or it is included in the variables they're testing for." But they did alter bodies, if what is posted on the bulletin was true. Near thought this, but didn't say it out loud, because he knew Mello and possibly others would be listening. The experiment required that everyone involved be human, or something close to it, for the parameters to work. With so much power at the Institute's disposal, why was that one true? It was an idea that Near wanted to keep to himself for the moment, an overlooked detail that would best remain that way at present.

Mello would hear the talk of the experiments, and he'd consider it. But as a possibility he'd already dismiss, it was likely that the elder would again see it as Near heading in the wrong direction, or alternately, attempt to adapt Near's ideas to his own. The associate of Mello's, Renamon, had outlined her own guesses previously, and Near's ideas could be incorporated into them. But Near purposely had to hold back certain details for now, to ensure that Mello didn't get the complete picture from him, and to ensure that he where the weaknesses would be--whether the details remained unobserved, or if Mello came up with them, but utilizing flawed logic. Mello had a goal in mind, and it wasn't escape. Near was almost certain of that now.

Thus, Mello's actions had to be monitored. He could make progress until their paths diverged. At that point, Near might very well have to defeat him. And now, he was laying the groundwork to do so.

Everyone, Indy not least among them, thought they'd all been dragged into some kind of crazy experiment. Pierson said paranormal; this kid said psychological. They could both be true. Or it could be something completely different, for all he knew. He felt a surge of anger. It was sadistic enough that they'd all been kidnapped and dropped here in the first place, but it took a real bastard to include so many children in his little rat maze. A step up from the Thuggees' slavery? Ostensibly, but with those beasts running around at night, who knew?

Good to have a second source affirming that the supplies were restocked every night, though. Indy was up for solving the deep, twisted mysteries of Landel's Institute, but first he could use a screwdriver and maybe a metal pipe from that tool room those kids last night had mentioned. He could also use his whip and gun back, but he was going to have to take what he could get on that score.

"Those seem like more reasonable hypotheses to me," Indy said out loud to the kid. He stopped there, unwilling to share more thoughts on the subject with someone who was himself so obviously holding back. Not that Indy could blame him around here. "Where does the language question fit into your theory? Or are translation devices just standard-issue in 2009?"

The man might be surprised at just who was willing to dismiss the idea of this being an experiment, or the importance of that fact. Near said nothing to that effect, however, instead noting that this person now seemed to be holding back his own opinions. Certainly he couldn't blame the man for it, since Near was doing the same. Was it in response to that, or because he was concerned about who might be listening?

Either way, it was obvious that the man had put some value into Near's reasoning. Otherwise, it was pointless to ask such questions as the inclusion of the language translation, with or without the sarcasm included. "No, such devices are not available in 2009." Or the version of it that he knew. It was an important distinction, but asserting such just then would only make the man question Near's capacity for reason further.

"But it is rather curious how they do it, isn't it? As it stands, an individual speaking in their primary language--that is, the language they use most frequently--will have their words translated into the primary language of the listener. However, if they were to speak in a secondary language--" At this point, Near switched to perfect German. "--then those words remain untranslated." Of course he had no way of knowing if the man knew German, so he said only that phrase in the other language. The intention would be understood, even if the words themselves weren't. "It's obvious that they have the technology to translate any language, so why limit it in such a manner? The simplest explanation might be that by doing so, they allow the patients to keep secrets from each other, and to know when those secrets are being kept."

After all, it was obvious to anyone listening when a new language was spoken, save for the native speakers of that language. And even then, the question of accents came into play. Would a native speaker notice that Near's words in German came with a slight English accent? It would be interesting to find that out. Regardless, however, the point was that by letting the patients have a form of communication that was both easily accessible to few and yet known to many, the Institute set them up to suspect one another. Certainly Near was guilty of it, even with valid reason. Was that part of the goal then? And if it was, what could be discerned from it?

Near didn't speak any of his own answers to these questions out loud just yet. He wanted to hear what the man in front of him would say first.

There was the demonstration of the language question Indy had been looking for. "What's your 'primary language?'" he asked in German, to demonstrate his understanding. Not that he could necessarily trust the answer; if the translation theory were false, most of the kid's statement really would have been English, but there was nothing to prevent him from saying his first language was, say, French. The people around here weren't exactly jumping at the prospect of revealing much about themselves so far. It'd be nice to talk to someone he was reasonably sure wasn't either a liar or a nutjob. Or a deluded kid.

He thought again about that conversation with Pierson: what accents translated and what didn't? The kid's "primary language" had an English accent with it--sounded kind of like London, but Indy wasn't an expert on that front. Was that an argument for that language really being English, since most of the rest of the "English" he heard sounded American? A good linguist could fake an accent in another language, but given that Indy thought he was catching a little English tinge to the German--you'd have to be a lot better than this teenager probably was to fake all that. Not to mention pretty desperate to cover your identity. What were they all trying to hide?

The solution, Indy decided, was just gonna have to be running more trials. The children might come in handy there, since they were less likely to have the ability or desire to cover up the way they spoke. Hmm. Better take another look at that message on the board while he was at it, too.

He realized that the kid was waiting for him to say something and returned his focus to the conversation at hand. The kid was off jumping to conclusions again. "Could be that translating secondary languages would be too much of a strain on the system," Indy warned him. "Could be that--" Something occurred to him. "Do the nurses understand your German? Are there consequences for speaking it around them?" Being able to communicate without the guards listening in would be useful, especially if anyone ever wanted to get out of here. A (possibly short) lifetime spent playing with toy cars and dodging swarms of insects didn't appeal to Indy.

So the man understood German, and spoke it well from the demonstration. Near had no reason to lie at this point, and his answer was perhaps more specific than the man had been thinking. But that wasn't something Near could take as a given; the deductive reasoning of this person was better than most. "English. Specifically, I was born in London, though I've spent most of my life in Hampshire." A potentially dangerous detail, if Yagami Light had revealed to his followers that Near was from Winchester. Yet that was specifically why Near kept the area vague; not only was Hampshire rather large, but that Winchester was in Hampshire was a fact not likely to be known by someone not from Europe, or at least, well-versed in British geography.

Of course, the reason why Near had revealed even that much detail was the question of accents, and also to prove to this man that he was both honest and thorough. Yet the second wasn't so apparent, it seemed, as he began to pick apart Near's reasoning for the secondary language separation. "The system as it stands is more trying. Think about it carefully. Among the patient population there are numerous people who speak numerous languages. You and I, for example, speak at least two each--because I heard your German as German, I know that it isn't your primary language. And while it is possible your primary language is also English, it is equally possible that it isn't. Additionally, we could both speak many more languages than just two each. For English speakers, German is probably not the most likely secondary language, after all. And this is only in two patients. There are at least two hundred here."

Moving the car in deliberate figure eights, Near continued his explanation. "Assuming that the patients are being truthful about their origins, these languages cover not only the ones known to normal, rational humans, but an assortment of species, including aliens. There was even a bulletin message written in binary, a language primarily to operate machines. And yet the way that languages are processed is specifically tailored to each individual, despite the fact that what is a secondary language to some--Japanese, for example--is a primary language to others. Given this overlap, it's reasonable to conclude that the simpler route would be to translate all languages universally. That way, no matter what was said or written, those words would be understood. Additionally, if the goal of the language translation was only or even primarily translation, this would be the ideal situation."

"Yet that is not the scenario we're in, is it?" Again pressing a button to make the lights flash on his car, Near paused long enough to be certain that the man had kept up with everything he said. "No, the system they utilize is much more complex, yet needlessly so. Again, because of the overlap in languages to be translated. So the question of why still remains."

And perhaps the man had unwittingly come to that answer himself, when he asked his questions. His thoughts were evident, yet despite the hopeful aspect of what he proposed, Near's expression remained utterly neutral. "I haven't attempted to speak in a secondary language to them specifically. Yet I have spoken and written in languages besides English with no apparent consequence. The question you've posed can be answered easily enough, however. Yet regardless of the answer, mine still remains. Why would they develop the system in such a way? You should try to focus on that before you get too excited about this possibility."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Day 38: Patients' Library

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject