damned_institute | Nightshift 40: M11-M20 Hallway

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Nightshift 40: M11-M20 Hallway

[M12]

There was this 'Avatar' again, the thing that supposedly linked one's consciousness within this video game. Klavier couldn't quite understand how such a thing could help anyone fight, but he was certain that this connection had something to do with how and why Endrance was taken. If this really wasn't something every player experienced, then there was little doubt others might find such a thing interesting, yes? He still wasn't sure how this all worked, but preserving this connection had to be the point of it all. At least in this particular case.

Any further discussion on this or the strange 'Kira' murders was cut short with the intercom announcement. If one could call it that. Herr Doktor's voice and demeanor changed come nightfall, true, but this was stranger than usual. In fact, he couldn't even be sure if it was the doctor. It was far too raspy to identify either way.

This was getting more bizarre with every evening. First taunting then what may or may not have been snoring... and now this strange dilapidated voice?

"Open the box?" he repeated. What could he possibly mean by that? ...Wait. Was this voice even addressing the patient population? It seemed too specific a thing to say to everyone. Could this be a message for Herr Doktor? Or was this a message for a specific party? Maybe someone had managed to do something recently...

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The sudden, brief silence was enough to catch his attention. In fact, for a moment, Klavier thought he might have said something a bit too ridiculous. Fortunately, it seemed to simply be the morbidity of the conversation.

Though the point he made was... odd, to say the least. "Others? Like his superiors?" Frankly he thought that to be a little... far-fetched. A bit too much so for one of Kristoph's theories. The focus shifting beyond the patients and staff was random and leading to too broad a subject, especially since they hadn't the slightest idea what the operations beyond Herr Doktor were like. An unusually blind stab for his brother. Then again, with the brevity of the comment, maybe Kristoph had just been thinking aloud. ...No, that was still a bit strange. "I would think it would probably be easier to execute such things with a controllable mass rather than moving beyond those in the institute. That might be exceptionally risky. Probably too much so to chance it."

Then again, the man's motives were unpredictable and indeed the possibilities were endless, as his brother said. This entire setup was risky and idiotic to begin with, so perhaps common sense and reason didn't really come into play when it came down to it.

It took considerable amount of restraint to keep the "Oh, please," to himself. Instead, Kristoph waved a dismissive hand, his eyes still locked on the surveys. "No," he said, "albeit you were on the right track." The question now became whether or not the man felt like sharing where his brother missed the mark. He was planning to draw the punishment out for as long as possible; revealing the source reeked of prematurity.

In the end, he opted for a compromise. This topic could prove sweet if progressed correctly. "Have you heard of visitors?"

Klavier thought that sounded a bit too strange to be right. It was too idiotic a move. Herr Doktor was unpredictable but not stupid. But...

"Visitors?" Well, this was new. Why was it he kept getting tidbits out of the blue that everyone prior somehow failed to mention? If he was understanding this correctly, one would think visitors from the outside coming into the complex would be a rather important detail. Why was this his first time hearing of such a thing?

"No, I haven't heard anything about any visitors," he said, actually seeming a bit perplexed by the idea.

"Visitors," Kristoph echoed. "The staple of every patient and prison inmate in the country with any ounce of a social life." A part of that sentence might register as 'nostalgic' for the younger blond, but he hardly cared.

"To maintain the illusion of a true mental health facility, Landel has established visiting hours every Sunday." According to the schedule posted on the bulletin, at least. Certain restrictions probably applied to the privilege. "The visitors themselves are much like the staff: they play a part in the Head Doctor's schemes-- With or without awareness, I cannot say. They are, however, the more effective method in breaking patients' will to escape. Part of the reason has to do with their identity."

And here, he smiled. "You can say they are...recognizable."

Had Klavier taken the time to sit down and actually consider the fact that this place did everything in its power to replicate a true mental institution, this wouldn't have come as a surprise. As someone who knew the prison systems... and had his fair share of prison visits himself... he should have known, should have realized. How could he have not taken that possibility into account? He really wasn't paying attention to what should have been right in front of him, was he?

Luckily, that wasn't an issue at the moment. With the previous topic still fresh and now this, it was impossible to not understand what his brother was getting at. He frowned, actually looking very bothered by the concept. "You mean... people back home. They're brought in under the guise of 'visiting' and brainwashed to play along."

That meant... these people were watching everyone back home, everyone with some connection to those they'd taken; Friends, family, and co-workers were all subject. Maybe it had something to do with breaking the patients, yes, but it could have been a declaration, too. Showing off the hostages, one might say. It was disturbing to think everyone he thought was safe back home was actually being watched. No, he didn't like this at all.

He looked away from Kristoph, down at the desk, in consideration. "I doubt any would play along 'with awareness' of their actions. If anything, it makes more sense to utilize brainwashing for this reason above any other. It's hard to believe they would really go so far..."

Edited 2009-05-02 07:59 (UTC)

"That may be," Kristoph remarked softly. His determination wavered a degree at his brother's statement; the whole thing reeked of needing a thorough explanation. He could even twist the knife an inch more if the man played his cards correctly. The thought was tempting, very tempting; however, there was the time and the place for damage. Luckily for Klavier, now was far too soon.

"It begs the question, however," he continued, "regarding the distinction between 'patient' and 'visitor'. Why not trap us all within the hospital? What traits do we possess which allow our minds to remain generally unrestricted?" He raised an eyebrow. "Why do some after a period of 'visitation' become drawn into the institute's affairs? The answers are vague at best."

"It'll be difficult pinpointing what exactly makes the selected patients worth the trouble. The individual cases are too different," Klavier agreed. "But it's obvious the 'visitors' are basically useless beyond the notion of manipulation. One has to wonder if maybe drawing patients into the institute's affairs is part of the reason for using the visitors in the first place. Maybe they want people here to actively 'resist' in whatever way. It's hard to imagine them allowing these counter efforts if it was truly undesired."

This was getting strange. The more he considered it, the less likely it was that any 'patients' were here due to any spontaneity. It looked like everyone was chosen for some specific reason, though what that might be was unclear. What made them targets when those around them were deemed only worthy of being watched or used?

He inwardly sighed, trying to restrain his frustration. "There's too little to go on to get any clear ideas. And unfortunately, it doesn't look like too many people are willing to change that."

Difficult to tell which was strongest: the friction between the patients and the staff or that between the patients themselves. It almost looked like the latter. This... really wasn't looking like it would end well. To think their freedom could be hindered by something so trivial.

Difficult to pinpoint that may be, but if Klavier was anything close to a competent lawyer, he would recognize the true reasons were likely right under their nose. Most so-called mysteries contained solutions generally overlooked except for the truly observant. If Kristoph honestly cared about the topic, he might have suggested they look for points within reach, not dabble in how troubling it was to analyze Martin Landel's madhouse.

But as it stood, the attorney could not lend himself to concern. Escape and active resistance would be nice, yes. No one could call him a Landel supporter by any stretch of the imagination. As long as his brother lived, however, any progress toward those goals would simply bring him closer to another prison. For a man with no future, biding his time was really all he cared to do.

"The answers will come in time," he replied instead. "Frustrations will only strain what progress we--" He'd almost said 'you'. "--hope to make."

Without warning, Kristoph flipped over the page of notes in his hands, before setting it gingerly off to the side. "Oh, yes. If we can veer off course for a minute," he began. "I propose we consider alternative means of communication over the bulletin. Our last attempt...attracted attention." Of course, he only perhaps aggravated the situation, but it did make up for the pesky effort of having to remember the young man's trove of kitsch lyrics.

The bulletin board. Though the idea wasn't one he was particularly fond of, Klavier fully understood the importance of anonymity on the board. Even if he chose not to do it constantly, it was unfortunately necessary in certain cases, like communicating with Kristoph. All because certain individuals liked to make things a bit more complicated than necessary.

Using Klavier's lyrics was actually a very good idea, but as Kristoph had said, this last time had attracted attention. Though not the type he was typically accustomed to. It was true. His music didn't always suit everyone's personal tastes, Forehead and Fräulein Detective being two prime examples. But this recent reaction had nothing to do with music. Those were the Gavinners' lyrics that had been up there. His lyrics. To think anything he had written as a musician --no, as anything-- had fallen under even momentary negative scrutiny was simply unfathomable. They were taken out of context, yes. And they lost their impact while written incomplete, sure. But calling them 'bad lines?'

Some people simply didn't have an eye for art, he supposed.

But this train of thought was digressing. Contemplating the mindset of tasteless clods would have to wait for another time. There was a brief exhale through his nose before he nodded. "Agreed. There are only so many lyrics we can use in context to begin with. We'll probably have to join the trend of bulletin alias names. ...Something more creative than initials."

Though obviously, initials wouldn't work in their case. It was less an idea and more a slight jab at no one in particular.

It was terribly difficult to avoid the urge to poke fun at the situation, but Kristoph somehow managed. For the most part, anyway.

"More creative than initials, hm?" He slipped an arm across his chest in contemplation. Pulling originality while keeping one's cover was not readily done through writing. An author's pseudonym, for instance, could easily be decrypted if their style matched any known works. Lyrics were convenient because the patient body had no access to Klavier's music (as Kristoph originally predicted). The men from 'their' Los Angeles were prior to the Gavinner's rise to fame. Unless his brother degraded to complete idiocy and leaked his lyrics, they would be relatively safe from a reveal.

That, unfortunately, returned them to the original issue: unwanted attention. The songs were flamboyant at best, hardly qualified to sneak past the eyes of prying individuals. Pity they weren't among common Americans. Using German might have proved more effective.

He sighed, albeit pleasantly. "You are likely correct. We've no choice but to resort to false names." What kind, however, was the night's question. "Preferably pedestrian. Fancy would simply throw us back into our dilemma."

He had to agree. As amusing as names like Superboy and Starscream could be on the bulletin board, something less extravagant would be more suitable. Luckily, with such a diverse patient body, even slightly more unusual names could be considered commonplace. Especially with so many from Japan. Klavier would personally prefer to stay away from Japanese names, however. More likely than not, anything he could think of belonged to about four other individuals.

There in lay another issue: It would be difficult to think of ordinary names not too many others might have. It would be pointless to use a name multiple people would respond to after all. This was a tricky little problem. How would they know what names were safe and which weren't?

"Anything too common would probably be taken by actual patients," he said in consideration. "...There is also the possibility of using pre-established alias names. Fictional characters or pen names, for example. Nothing too complicated would be necessary. Even a children's book would work. I doubt there are any works that could be associated with us in particular."

Kristoph considered the words for a moment before rising to his feet. "Works, perhaps," he mused, a teasing smile playing on his lips, "but not creators."

It was simply, really. Kristoph and Klavier Gavin, two brothers in extraordinary circumstances, whose pens flowed with allegories not their own. ...He might have stepped too far with the former--the ideas in his mind weren't quite as unfortunate as they--but overall, it worked. Almost too well.

The man pointed to himself, as though to make a declaration. "Jakob," he said, before indicating the brother below him. "Wilhelm." Die Brüder Grimm.

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Nightshift 40: M11-M20 Hallway

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