damned_institute | Day 46: Sun Room

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Day 46: Sun Room

Peter woke up suddenly, his body twisting in the bed and then forcing him to catch his breath in pain. Pain, which was coming from his middle because of the thing that had scratched him last night, and after that...

After that, Zach had jumped in front of him like some kind of martyr, like the exact opposite of everything Sylar stood for, to take the next hit for him. It got pretty fuzzy after that, so night must have ended right around then.

The man let out a pained grunt as he straightened himself up in bed. For some reason, he got the feeling that he'd slept in. There was no way for him to really tell without a window in the room, but he just knew. The fact that Sam's bed looked long since vacated was another clue.

Sam, but was he Sam again? Had the brainwashing worn off, as he and Roland had hoped, or was he going to have to go through this nightmare for even longer? He didn't know how long he could handle "Zach" and "Harrison" before he started going batty himself.

Pulling himself out of bed, Peter lifted his shirt and saw that he was tightly bandaged. The scratch most likely wasn't nearly as bad as the bite that "Zach" had received, but it still smarted. He let his shirt fall and then had to deal with a nurse chiding him for sleeping through the morning announcements. Not that Peter really cared at the moment. He was too busy thinking about last night and the fact that in a way, he now owed something to Sylar. Except it hadn't been Sylar. That was something he was sure of now.

Lost in his thoughts, Peter reached the Sun Room right as the rest of the patient populace was trickling in from breakfast. Sighing to himself, he headed over to the bulletin board and then saw a note written in familiar yet unpleasant handwriting. Holding his pen in a vice grip, Peter scribbled out a reply and then stalked over to an armchair and fell into it with a huff.

While Sylar was maddeningly frustrating, there was one good thing about the fact that he was himself again. It meant that Nathan was too.

[For Spock!]

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Suspicious, wasn't he? It was a good trait to have, but it crossed a line somewhere that one so young--no matter what he was--had deemed it necessary to keep. It was a matter of survival with Digimon--but not all creatures were created only to fight. Renamon kept her expression peaceful, but she supposed it wouldn't matter if the boy was truly distrustful. Nigredo, was it? The boy was discerning.

A large part of her respected that, even at odds as she was in her judgment. Perhaps, because of that, the Digimon didn't add any human tact to her explanation. Truth, it would be. Nigredo could take it as he would. "I'm curious about other worlds," she said evenly. "And you're not entirely human, and I'm interested in that as well." She watched him, teal eyes comfortably neutral. "And I'll put forward whatever you wish as well."

The term "not entirely human" confirmed two truths: Renamon somehow knew he wasn't normal child, and the method she used to uncover said fact involved something beyond casual conversation. Nigredo had heard a few Realians had the capacity to scan the genetic map of living organisms; perhaps this held the same concept. Then again, with multiple planes of existence involved (as she so conveniently mentioned), she could be utilizing something else entirely.

In either case, Nigredo did not like the arrangements of this exchange. Likely because at this point, he had little choice in the matter. "What makes you say I'm not human?" he questioned, almost defeated.

The tone seemed too familiar to her ears; gave rise to memories that had been untouched. She blinked them away with care, and moved on. Now was not the time for the past. Though, still--She, too, understood this question in a way that it possibly wasn't meant. She had considered this line of thought in another way: What makes one say that I am not truly alive? Data and life alike, there were too many similarities to simply say that one is less, or not supposed to be. Perhaps it was because she was going to be meeting with Brainiac 5 later, but the point hit her, and stayed within her chest.

The Digimon lightly bowed her head. "I meant no disrespect," she started. "You don't appear as human to me; your..." She hesitated, the point lacking a word that fit correctly. "'Self', as it were, is not the same as a human's. I know, perhaps, because I'm not human as well."

A seemingly easy confession; seemingly being the point. Renamon would never deny what she was, play at human and fit the part unless forced upon her for some reason, but the difference behind a lack of denial and willingly speaking it was large. Still. She had not yet gave up her nature. This child, close to herself in behavior, seemed to have a heavy heart. And what was one's own brief comfort next to that?

A conclusion born from comparisons. It made sense when properly thought out. If you had the necessary facilities to perceive, seeing the factors of what made humans versus what made something else would be simple. The deductions? Simpler. Renamon had answered his question and confirmed his impressions in a nonthreatening manner.

He should be satisfied to a degree. Satisfaction, however, was the very opposite of what Nigredo actually received.

"I see," he stated. Then trembled. His grip tightened against the cushion. Another waveform had entered and had begun interaction in the room. "You mentioned you were interested in other worlds, correct?" the child asked immediately.

Because this would be better than witnessing the happenings from opposing ends of the room.

Her countenance was changeless, but the boy's own shifting mien was noted in a way nothing else was. A child's discomfort had the ability to gain her attention like nothing else. Asking the obvious would most likely return the same reaction. A cut off, a severing. It was well-known, one that again she understood. A reaction was a weakness in part, something to be held within oneself. And bringing light to difficult things, things that were fueled by emotions and what resided deep inside something's heart or mind, would no doubt gain her the boy turning away. What could she expect, when she herself would do the same?

So instead she took her cues well, his question asked after his minor trembling. She could distract, yes, and hopefully engage. In that, she would show her own concern in a way. "I am," she answered evenly. "Very much so. I come from two different worlds, so the possibility of multiple worlds has always been in my mind. It's intriguing, to see it first hand."

One simplistic, intellectual joy within all the horror.

She took his lead, for which Nigredo was glad. It kept him from stealing a glance and making assumptions. In addition, what Renamon had to say proved more fascinating than initially expected. Coming from two separate worlds, he mused, involved more than simple star clusters. It would require something beyond a vessel to reach them, if those parallel universe theories held any weight.

"You're from different worlds," he repeated, carefully. "How does that work? Do you travel between them at all?"

Curiosity. Good. If the boy was as bland as his countenance claimed, she wouldn't have know how to correctly engage. As it was, she nodded once. "Two different worlds, though I'm told there are more in my universe."

The Digimon's bright eyes glanced down, placing her thoughts. "There's a human world, much like this one in fact, and a Digital World, made up of mass amounts of data and programming code. I, am originally from that world." The truth, as it was, was given. In matters of worlds at least she had nothing to hide. And if her words gave away her nature? There was still the matter of righting a wrong. The tone used after she had denied his being human still rang.

"And we can travel," she continued. "But it isn't always easy." She tiled her head up to watch the boy. "From the Digital World to the human one, we bio-emerge through gateways that we open." Or that ones from the human world pull to, but that was getting into the subject of Tamers, and Renamon would not touch there. "Otherwise, there are doors. Holes in the fabric of reality that can create a crossing."

Familiarity rang in her tones, and Nigredo found himself growing more interested. For an actual moment, he forgot his brothers, focusing instead on the conversation at hand. "We have something like that," he told Renamon. "It's not a world in the literal sense since we can't physically traverse from one to the other."

His memory fell back to a time before this institute, to one more familiar. This did nothing to turn his thoughts back to the other end of the room. "By manipulating brainwaves, people can 'dive' into a virtual area known as the Encephalon." Nigredo paused, a flush spreading across his cheeks. He couldn't say why this occurred. "I know they're not really the same, but it came to mind."

Something switched gears, and the boy continued, more subdued. "Do you think these doors are responsible for our being here?"

The boy's interest was welcomed. "Most aren't able to travel to the Digital World from the human world--only in some cases." But his offerings perked her own curiosity. "When you say 'dive', what do you mean?" A non-physical entry, that much was taken, but how would...? Their... souls, perhaps? Renamon was not anywhere close to religious, even as she had meant both groups of her 'gods'--human and Digital. But the option did remain.

Her mentality shifted instantaneously at his question. "Yes," she answered immediately, staring slightly. "I do." Her mind slid back to her first few days here. Things had seemed... simpler, then. "The truth is, the majority of the people I interviewed that are more than human have worlds with the equivalent of doors in them. When researched further, all doors or portals or corridors, are similar in function, task, and activation." Renamon paused, regathering her thoughts. "There were two theories concerning them here. Either they're hidden in a place we cannot reach, or are powered by things that make them temporary instead of a permanent holding."

"Special circumstances?" questioned Nigredo. Whether in the factors or the potential traveler remained to be seen, and he wasn't certain if this information could be shared.

He could, however, try to explain the concept he had brought up. "It's a switch from one plane of reality to another. The place of descent can range from a simple virtual room or the mind of a person. It's not uncommon for law enforcement to conduct investigations by literally exploring the memories of witnesses." There was more, and Nigredo had only scraped the surface on the actual mechanics, although this had more to do with his ability. He wasn't sure how well he could explain the sciences involved; examples were honestly the best for someone who'd never lived with such before.

It was strange how one world had what others might have lacked. The boy became doubly aware of this as Renamon continued. "If one of the theories proves true, could the problem then be rectified?"

His query was held in silence for a moment, the Digimon considering the boy. There was... nothing lost in telling him the basic truth. Nothing that she personally felt taken away if that was all she said. "Yes," she answered belatedly. "If those gateways, the doors, are found. There are few, and seldom easy to find."

All Nigredo said held sense. The ending statement seemed almost amusing in its utter logical applications. It was something to be considered, after all; something useful to be done with what you had to work with. "It makes sense," she replied, slightly tilting your head. "My Digital World and your Encephalon may be very similar." The fingers on one of her hands moving in thought. "Be it that yours seems far more stable than me," she added with a touch of irony. The Digital World had the abilities to mind-dive as it was--most likely, in fact. But trusting the chaotic qualities of the Digital World to the task seemed suicidal. A simple room by itself was easily done. Yes; the two realities were similar albeit somewhat opposite. "Perhaps," she mused softly, almost as if she hadn't meant to add it. "Yours remained tied, and did not gain its own consciousness."

Renamon's mouth thinned at his question, thoughts moving. "Quite possibly," she answered carefully. "If there is a door, it would simply be finding it, and then allowing one with the knowledge of portals and passages to reprogram it. The problem being... If there is a permanent one, it is well hidden. Landel had already proven he can control nearly all faucets of our actions. For us to 'not see' something seems overly simplistic, disheartening as that may be."

Was it the fact that the boy carried himself so well, spoke with facts instead of emotion, that had Renamon speaking so freely? She could deduce as much. Even with Mello, there hadn't been this analytical detachment, and while a part of her mourned it in one so young, an older part of her appreciated it, and approved. "If it's the other, it flows into the realm of metaphysics." She raised her eyebrows at the boy, as if asking if he wanted her to continue.

"Oh." The logic was fairly straightforward: if doors led to places such as the Digital World and were far and few between, they would count as a special circumstance. His thoughts shifted as did the conversation, and Nigredo pulled the cushion closer to his chest. "I wouldn't say more stable," he said. "The risks are more known, maybe." The boy couldn't affirm the remaining statements; there existed things in the U.M.N. and the Encephalon even a U.R.T.V., who relied on such technology, could not trust.

That, however, was a story for another time.

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead into the pillow in his arms. "I figured both would be complicated," stated Nigredo, who then sighed. "Still... What do you mean exactly when you say it flows into the realm of metaphysics?"

He had asked, and she would reply in turn. "It's a general consensus that the majority of us are brought here after a changing point in our lives. Losing someone, a stable point being dropped out from under us, even our own death. This still remains rooted in the realm of facts.

"The metaphysics point comes in what I cannot yet prove."

The Digimon paused, reorganizing her thoughts. "This Institute is powered by something, this is a certainty. Most of us have certain abilities locked away or dulled down--a theory for this is that those abilities themselves power their own chaining--but I digress. Something else to consider is the things we go through here. Tests they may very well be, but in the same breath, they are all things that simulate large emotional fluxes, even in those who maintained calm and stoicism before coming here. I know very well that emotions can be used as power, and if one needs a power source, looking farther than a large group of beings outside their element and under one's control in a situation perfectly made to break them down is unnecessary. The power is right there. Very simple."

She moved a hand. "But my point is what I said. We are brought here at a moment of extremes. If emotions can and do power as they do elsewhere, one could come to the conclusion that the emotion expelled from ourselves in that moment is what opens the doorway itself. And all Landel need do is then pull us through. If that is the case," Renamon said, fixing her gaze on the boy. "Then I am unsure what we could do to counter. To open a door would take much more than using one that is already there."

The exposition hit close to heart--much, much closer than the boy could ever dream. He had never pictured the reasons for his and his brothers' arrival. The assumption was that they were victims of an unfortunate circumstance or a practical purpose. And this... Whether incidental or not, Renamon had implicated a reasoning that rang far worse than his original not-theories.

"If we were the cause of our own arrival--" If this was of their own making... "--you would think they were trying to open another door." Nigredo had no basis, but it made sense. The experiments, the brainwashing, the run to utter exhaust-- There was no rhyme or reason with chance or a specified, individualized purpose. What remained, then, was a kind of expendability.

For what purpose? He hadn't a clue.

Another door. This touched close to another's explanation, and she watched the boy carefully. "They could be," the Digimon gave neutrally. Was it idle speculation or did he have his own idea? "But a door to where? Or when?"

A door to places only was limiting. "They can already call beings from more than any known worlds. From all times; past, present and future. And even from death or nonexistence. What, then," she questioned. "Would they be looking for?"

It was an open-ended question. She was nowhere close to the answer, even after the investigating she had put forth on Mello's suggestion. There was no pattern. And she was slowly learning this. Without a pattern, then... There were only guesses, and then tests to see which proved true.

Nigredo shook his head, an indication that he knew nothing regarding potentials. Even if he did, the boy could not find a point in the knowledge. Home world, new, or otherwise--one was not preferable to the others.

The intercom chimed before another word could be placed, and with duty done, Nigredo rose hastily. He needed to leave a message for Yomi among other things. Now was the best opportunity, manners aside. "I'm sorry," he said to Renamon. "I have to go."

A pause. "It was nice to talk with you."

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Day 46: Sun Room

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