damned_institute | Day 39: Intercom, Evening

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Day 39: Intercom, Evening

The Head Doctor seemed a little rushed as he spoke on the intercom, not taking as much pleasure as he usually did in describing the delicious food that would soon be served.

"Hello, everyone! Tonight is turkey night, which means turkey breast in a great turkey gravy with some nice turkey sides: peas, herb potatoes, a small garden salad, and for dessert, a slice of pumpkin pie. We of course have vegetarian substitutes available, as well as our usual assortment of drinks.

"...I believe that's it! I'll talk to you soon!"

The intercom clicked off abruptly.

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The boy had been insistent--nay, belligerent--about his research skills, but for now the archaeologist was just content that his roommate hadn't also decided that Indy was just another screwball pretending to be a fictional character. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised that some of my life could easily be confused with fiction, even if they didn't embellish it. Sometimes even I can hardly believe the stuff that happens to me," he replied. He made a mental note: as soon as he got back, the first thing he was going to do was write an autobiography.

"That thought crossed my mind too," he added in response to Pierson's next statement. "We've already seen some evidence of that; they've been switching out the magazines in the staff lounge to make it look as though months are passing outside over the course of a few days in here." The most diverse sample population in history and a brilliant attention to detail--you almost had to hand it to Landel. "Did you manage to learn anything interesting today?"

"Sounds like you've got quite the story," Methos replied evenly. It was more than a little tempting to ask what that story was, but they were on uneasy enough ground already, and he certainly wasn't willing to go divulging his own secrets.

"Have you considered the possibility that time might be moving at a different rate outside than in?" he asked. He straightened, shifting his dinner tray out of the way so he could lean against the desk. "We're already assuming some sort of...distortion in time, allowing them to bring people here from different points in history. It's possible the mechanism they use to achieve that might somehow encapsulate this entire building, no? Very, very unlikely, but possible."

"I get that a lot," Indy replied, "usually with a lot less credence." He wasn't sure from Pierson's tone if the statement had been intended as a crack, a prompt for more information or simply a neutral comment, and he wasn't prepared to expend a lot of energy in figuring out which.

The possibility that the whole building had never even crossed his mind, probably because it was even more far-fetched than regular time travel. "Regular" time travel--now that was a scary thought. Indy would've been a lot happier if the idea of traveling seventy years into the future had never started to sound "regular" to him at all.

"Even if it is, I'm willing to bet they didn't leave those magazines laying around to be helpful," he said. "Even if they are letting us in on what's really going on around here, that doesn't rule out the possibility that might also be trying to mess with our heads. How much information do you think we get that they don't want us to have?" Another thought occurred to him: "We also know that people get outside the building. So either they've got the whole surrounding area in some kind of time warp, or they're traveling through time every night to bring back whoever gets out."

"Oh, I don't doubt the intent behind it was entirely malicious," Methos replied. "I was just pointing out that the information itself could theoretically still be valid. Confusing us with the truth, as it were, rather than relying on falsehoods."

He peered up at the ceiling, brow knitting as he ran through a series of short mental calculations. "They wouldn't have to extend it that far, if it was what they were doing. I doubt most of the people here have managed to get the lay of the land around this compound, so they'd be escaping in the dark, on foot, through rough and unfamiliar terrain that's most likely populated with hostile creatures. Not to mention any human guards who may have been posted in the surrounding area."

Methos shrugged eloquently, dragging his concentration away from the headache-inducing hypothetical. "It's a moot point either way, as we can't verify anything unless we manage to make it far enough out to escape their influence."

"Which could encompass the entire country, if this place really is connected with the government," Indy pointed out. Pierson was entirely right that most of the theorizing they'd done wasn't going to get them much of anywhere, but on some level it was comforting. Thinking you knew what was going on in your world gave you a sense of control over it--a false one, in their case, but a reassuring one nonetheless.

He shrugged and moved on. "I got a description of whoever had the gun last night, by the way. I don't know how far we can trust an anonymous reply on the bulletin board, but supposedly the guy is about 5'10" and blond. I'd like to try to find him, see what I can get out of him about where the gun came from."

"If we could get far enough away to avoid being caught when they come to round everyone up, we'd likely be able to figure out how far their control extends. If it is national, well. There are ways to get outside even a hostile country's borders." Methos shrugged, then smiled with grim humor. "Of course, if it turns out to be a global conspiracy, I think we might just have to admit to being doomed." The jest was a coping mechanism of a sort in its own right. Contemplating the possibility honestly was daunting, even for him.

"That's a bit of a spare description," he noted. "Are you planning to track him down come daybreak, then? I'd imagine finding anyone after dark would be difficult at best..."

"Aw, don't give up so easily." Indy was playing along, but his own grin didn't have much more real amusement in it than Pierson's. "I thought you said you were a translator. Just pick some godforsaken corner of the world and blend in until the revolution." Which might be brought about by Martians or something before he could get to it. 2009 was as unpredictable as all hell. Maybe he should ask for a rundown of what he could expect to see if he made it out of here and to civilization.

"That's the plan. It's not great, but it's the best I've got at the moment," he admitted. "I'd like to start looking around outside--if not tonight, then pretty soon. I'd feel better if I had something a little more persuasive than an extension cord bullwhip." Indy pushed his dinner tray back and leaned back in his chair, giving himself another couple minutes of repose before he got up to change. "It won't be a deal-breaker if I can't come up with anything, discretion being the better part of valor and all. But it's always nice to be able to map out the area without getting eaten."

"Didn't you know?" Methos asked, feigned gravity containing a hint of the real. "In this busy modern era, the god-forsaken corners of the world are the first place anyone looks. Besides," he added, more honestly serious, "being able to speak the local language does not, unfortunately, always mean being able to look like a local. I know I stand out a fair amount in Tibet."

He nodded, demeanor slipping further toward the serious. "The only problem I can see with acquiring a gun lies in also acquiring enough ammunition to make much use of it. A pistol with a full clip would get you a little farther than a revolver would, but depending on what's out there, it may not be enough. It might be possible to find a backup weapon, since they do seem to be allowing limited access to the things as part of their game." He glanced, grimacing, at the intercom, which had fortunately not yet begun crackling again. "Whatever that might be. There are too many secrets here, both inside and out."

"Right," Indy replied, "pick a godforsaken corner of the world where you don't stick out like a sore thumb. Should've clarified that." Marcus could've benefited from that advice.

He acknowledged Pierson's point about the ammunition, but he wasn't too concerned with it. Indy was operating on the admittedly sketchy assumption that that guy's gun and ammunition had come from the Institute somehow--guard, hidden weapons stockpile, anything--and that if there was one, there were more.

"If they've got guns here, they've got ammunition. The only question is whether I can get in. Even if I can't, a gun with any ammo at all would help--assuming it's worth whatever it takes to get one."

Indy stood and crossed the room as usual to get ready for the night. He was still monologuing, though as much to himself as to Pierson. "I'm hoping I won't have to do a lot of shooting, anyway. A solid whip crack will scare off most of the wild animals I've met, and I can probably handle most humans if I'm not too badly outnumbered or they're not too heavily armed. A gun would do me the most good with guards, and if they're armed, that'll solve my firepower problem."

The question was whether the whip would crack, not to mention whether anyone else he was likely to meet out there was likely to outnumber or outgun him. He'd just have to improvise.

"Do you have any idea how quickly a man can get thoroughly sick of small fishing villages and farming communities?" Methos asked. He grinned slightly, humor grim and slightly self-mocking. "In all seriousness, large metropolitan centers are often just as good as remote areas, if you want to disappear. The remote areas are harder to find, but the neighbors tend to remember when you moved in, any relationships you've forged, and all too often what you had for breakfast in the morning."

There would likely be ammunition, he had to admit, though he wouldn't have put it past the head doctor to supply just enough to load the gun. That they'd not so much as spotted an armed, human guard still made him uneasy. Each night was making the supernatural angle seem just a little more plausible.

"Most animals won't attack clearly superior numbers, if they'll attack humans at all," he pointed out. "If the stories floating around are true, and what we saw last night does seem to confirm some, that doesn't hold here. The ones inside the walls are likely trained, but I wouldn't be surprised to find the ones outside acting crazed or rabid."

Indy would have thrown up his hands if he hadn't been holding his jacket. "Okay, fine. You're leaving me no choice but to go off and found my own Utopian society, with a huge cache of ammunition and a movie theater that only shows films in black and white. Sounds like it's either that or finding Atlantis." He caught himself grumbling a little now, but good-naturedly--even this topic of conversation was a step above speculating in pointless circles or trading insults all evening.

He hadn't stopped to think all that much about the animals outside, but Indy had to admit after brief consideration that Pierson's theory wasn't implausible. That could be bad. If it had taken, what, three or four kids to fight off King Kong last night, and if that thing had been friendlier than what they were likely to find outside--

"You think they got to the animals outside?" he asked. "I was going to say that sounds like too big an operation even for Landel, but I forgot we're dealing with the time-travel guy here. Guess you might only need a few rabid animals to infect a lot of others, anyway." He paused long enough to finish getting dressed and moved to the closet to collect his equipment for the night. "Unfortunately, sooner or later we're probably just gonna have to take the risk. And I think I've got a slight edge on those kids who were headed outside last night, at least."

"You know, it's been a while since anyone's funded an expedition to Atlantis," Methos mused, feigning utmost gravity in spite of the frivolous turn the topic had taken.

He frowned at Jones for a second, then shook his head. "Actually, I hadn't considered the possibility of them deliberately tampering with the outside wildlife. Given their general lack of ethical concerns, I'd assumed there was a fair chance they might not have taken much care in ensuring their experiments didn't pollute the local environment. Drug contamination, or diseases, or whatever it is they're testing up in that lab of theirs could wreak havoc on the natural balance." He chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. "If they have tampered with all the animal life, God knows what we'd find out there. But you're right. Taking the risk is inevitable, viewed over the long term."

"Good. Maybe I can get a grant, bring it back into vogue. I've got a...a former colleague who'd love to join the excavation team." Indy's tone had gone sarcastic. He'd read plenty in the papers about those inane Atlantis lectures of Sophia Hapgood's, and he applied the term "colleague" only loosely to any promising scientist who gave up archaeology to become a psychic. She would've had a field day with this place. Probably would have had a seance the first night she got there, tried to channel all the spirits of former patients to tell them which escape plans worked and which didn't. Actually, that'd be pretty nice right about now, Indy thought ruefully.

A minute later, he thought better of this; Sophia was, if anything, even more irascible than Pierson.

Indy shouldered his (admittedly questionable-looking) makeshift whip and turned his attention back to the matters at hand. "I'd rather not get close enough to find out which, honestly. The safest thing would probably be to try to make a scouting trip or two, see if I can get the lay of the land before I go booking any flights to the lost city."

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Day 39: Intercom, Evening

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