Sangamon Taylor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
toxicspiderman) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_institute2009-04-09 05:01 pm
toxicspiderman) wrote in damned_institute2009-04-09 05:01 pm
Entry tags:
- adelheid,
- aidou,
- blitzwing,
- blue beetle,
- claude,
- daniel jackson,
- depth charge,
- edgeworth,
- edward elric,
- frey,
- guy,
- homura,
- junpei,
- keman,
- kenren,
- kio,
- leon magnus,
- lockdown,
- nataku,
- nigredo,
- okita,
- ren,
- ronixis,
- s.t.,
- sam winchester,
- sanzo,
- scar (tlk),
- schuldig,
- scourge,
- snake,
- sora,
- teisel,
- the doctor,
- the flash,
- the scarecrow,
- wesker,
- willy wonka,
- xigbar,
- yohji,
- zex
Day 40: Greenhouse [Fourth Shift]
Most days, fish and chips (and a cold beer or three) was pretty goddamned high on S.T.'s list of perfect expense-account lunches. Today, the idea of picking at greasy hunks of unidentified bottom-feeder odds-and-ends (politely known as scrod, to the delight of teenagers all across the Northeast) didn't appeal.
He begged off and collapsed into his bed, after using his damp shirt as an excuse to surreptiously check the contents of his closet. Bingo. His nurse watched his little show, unimpressed but (more importantly) unsuspicious. Not that his hairy chest was much of a catch today, pale and sweating from fever. At least she didn't tuck him in.
The intercom woke up up right on schedule, and pulling the sheets back over his head almost won. But a handful of unanswered missives and a vague sense of duty dragged him out to the bulletin, and from there it was easier to stagger over to the greenhouse.
It was warm inside -- a deep, humid warmth that actually penetrated to the aches in more joints and muscles than he could remember the names of. Like a sauna, without the hassle of finding someplace to look that wasn't a mound of pasty middle-management cellulite. Or a sweat lodge, without the opposite hassle of being conscious that he was the only white guy in the room. In fact, besides the nurses in holding patterns, he was the only person in the room.
He located a tray of tomato seedlings going rootbound in their tiny six-packs, and a potting bench whose location was a quick-and-dirty approximation of equidistantly far from anything blooming. He assured his nurse he knew what he was doing, and after a couple of successful repottings, gently sliding the little seedlings out and loosening the tangled roots, she seemed to agree and backed off. It was, by far, the most fucking theraputic thing he'd found in this hellhole so far, and he let himself sink into the rhythm of the task.
[Free!]
He begged off and collapsed into his bed, after using his damp shirt as an excuse to surreptiously check the contents of his closet. Bingo. His nurse watched his little show, unimpressed but (more importantly) unsuspicious. Not that his hairy chest was much of a catch today, pale and sweating from fever. At least she didn't tuck him in.
The intercom woke up up right on schedule, and pulling the sheets back over his head almost won. But a handful of unanswered missives and a vague sense of duty dragged him out to the bulletin, and from there it was easier to stagger over to the greenhouse.
It was warm inside -- a deep, humid warmth that actually penetrated to the aches in more joints and muscles than he could remember the names of. Like a sauna, without the hassle of finding someplace to look that wasn't a mound of pasty middle-management cellulite. Or a sweat lodge, without the opposite hassle of being conscious that he was the only white guy in the room. In fact, besides the nurses in holding patterns, he was the only person in the room.
He located a tray of tomato seedlings going rootbound in their tiny six-packs, and a potting bench whose location was a quick-and-dirty approximation of equidistantly far from anything blooming. He assured his nurse he knew what he was doing, and after a couple of successful repottings, gently sliding the little seedlings out and loosening the tangled roots, she seemed to agree and backed off. It was, by far, the most fucking theraputic thing he'd found in this hellhole so far, and he let himself sink into the rhythm of the task.
[Free!]
no subject
This version of Earth, that version of Earth -- what was Martin Landel's purpose with all this? If he wanted to keep them in the dark about when and where they were, there were far easier ways to do it than to put up an entire charade involving doctors, nurses and townspeople.
"Do you really think this could be another version of Earth?" he added slowly after a moment. "I know some people have been kicking that theory around, but so far I've been seeing more evidence of memory alteration than alternate worlds." Special counseling and the patients who conveniently forgot their previous time here were examples of that.
no subject
He thought that next question over for a few moments before answering. "I can't really say I admit. I haven't been here for long enough to see the town and other bits of the place. It just seems like it would take a lot of work to permanently alter people's memories and there's always the risk of it going wrong."
no subject
And, really, he wasn't so sure if that would take more work than messing with space-time. Then again, it was probably better for everyone if there were just alternate universes to worry about. On the other hand, though, it was probably going to be a huge mess to sort through when it came to getting back home.
"I guess it just needs more investigation," he added quietly. "We're only setting ourselves up for a nasty surprise if we jump to conclusions. Still, though..." Claude shook his head to himself. "The stars. I never even thought of that."
no subject
Ronixis looked a little embarrassed when Claude mentioned the stars. Was it really such a big thing? All he'd done was go outside and look up. "It's nothing really impressive," he said awkwardly. "People have more important things to do than stargaze. I was just tagging along with my roommate." It didn't seem such an important discovery. The point was that they weren't at home, and they already knew that, so how much use could it be?
no subject
He fell quiet, and he averted his gaze. "To be honest, I'm not real sure what to think anymore."
Claude hadn't meant to put his father on the spot with all that star stuff, but he personally thought it was a pretty important discovery. "It's not just stargazing, though," he pointed out. "It's another piece to the puzzle that we need to be figuring out, right? After you've been here for a couple weeks, those start getting harder to come by, you know."