damned_institute | DAY 52: BREAKFAST

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DAY 52: BREAKFAST

How one's body could maintain a waking schedule when sleep came unnaturally and in a room without windows, must surely be a mystery. Yet, as if working on cue, Natalia stirred well before her nurse arrived. That was normal. Less so, the weight that sought to press her eyelids closed again, the heaviness of her limbs that made lifting her hands to her face an effort. She put her wrist to her forehead with a frown, then attempted a jolt of energy – to swiftly dig her hands into the mattress and shove herself into a seated position, and from there, to her feet.

Not to overexert herself once again, but to refuse that it could be possible after sleeping. Happily, though all still felt leaden, her head did not swim. Encouraged, Natalia put on her slippers, rearranged the bedding, and waited. There came the announcement (reminding her, suddenly, of what she had last heard, and the guilt that had twisted in her gut, Jill--), and her face wrinkled with disgust at the hacking sound. Therapy and breakfast. Food would surely help.

Natalia did not wait long before her nurse opened the door, and after exchanging cursory “Good Morning”s (with rather more enthusiasm on the other woman's part), they began the walk to the Cafeteria. With, of course, the essential rest room stop, where water was splashed and scrubbed over her face, and her hair toyed with to no great satisfaction. At least the shower had renewed its body.

Separating in the Cafeteria, Natalia took her place in line and loaded her plate: eggs, fruit salad, fried “tater tots” (potatoes?), and curious meat wrapped in cooked dough. Some of everything, with juice and water. She thanked her servers, collected utensils and napkins, and found a seat at an empty table. It was early yet.

Sparing a brief look around to be sure no one she recognized had arrived – though she remained eager to greet every patient, at the moment she chose to focus on the possible strength gained from the meal – Natalia began to cut up the items and eat with a refined gusto. Entirely possible!

[Claude!]

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Woody listened to what she had to say, and for the moment he was actually willing to disregard that obnoxious know-it-all tone. Because at the end of the day she had been here longer than him, which made her more of an expert on the place. Still, that didn't make what she was saying any easier to swallow. A research facility that posed as a mental institute -- it sounded like something from a movie (and not a very good one, either). His dark eyes searched out the staff in the room. Did that make them like the prison guards who'd kept watch over Sunnyside at night? Maybe, which meant they'd have to be outsmarted somehow if he was ever going to get out of here.

Granted, he couldn't say he was completely on board with this nut house-run-by-mad-scientists spiel, either. But when he'd narrowly avoided death by waking up in a human body, what else was he supposed to do except take her word for it for now? He hadn't exactly discounted the idea that maybe this was all some freaky dream, true, but Woody knew he wasn't going to get anything done just by plugging his ears and refusing to listen. Especially when he still had his friends to think about...

"So you're basically saying everyone here's been stolen -- err, kidnapped by these doctors," Woody said with a frown. Why would anyone want to take toys for something like that, though? And that was being generous by assuming a place like this even actually existed, but he was going to think himself in circles if he kept going down that path right now.

"Listen--" He reached up to rub his eyes again, but stopped short and awkwardly dropped his hand to the table again. "I was with some friends before I was brought here," he added, pushing aside his worry long enough to try to get some answers about folks he knew were real. "Have you run into anyone named Buzz Lightyear?" Maybe if he tossed out names to people he met someone would eventually have something for him. "Or Jessie?"

"Doesn't ring a bell," Rita answered with a small, dismissive shrug of her shoulders. "Maybe you could try asking on the bulletin board. It's over in the Sun Room." It would certainly be more effective than throwing various names at strangers in some hope that they might recognize them. Did he really think he would accomplish anything that way?

Shortly after giving that advice, Rita found herself remembering just how well it didn't work out for her, so she soon added, "Don't get your hopes up, though. They kidnap people from all over the world... and from other worlds, too." Rita's eyes began to wander, scanning the faces of the other patients in the Cafeteria, and a hint of bitterness crept into her voice. "Right now, I'm the only person from my world here."

Just as she expected, there was no sign of her friends from home. Most likely, nothing had changed since the last time she checked for others from her world, and she was still on her own. Damn it... it was because of things like this that Rita didn't want to make friends in the first place.

She hadn't seen either of them, which meant she probably hadn't run into the others, either. Woody's face fell at that, but he'd known it was a long shot when he'd asked. This was the first person besides the nurse he'd talked to, so maybe he'd have better luck later. Anyway, he doubted his friends would be able to stay hidden for long. Even if they looked like humans, Woody seriously doubted they'd do a good job of blending in -- which would probably become frustrating later, but right now he only took comfort in it.

"Sun Room, got it," he said with a nod, glancing over at the cafeteria entrance. Maybe it was that area with all the windows, the one he'd passed through on his way here.

With the way this girl was telling him not to hold his breath, though, it seemed like she thought there was a high chance he wouldn't see them. Woody didn't like the sound of that. They'd promised that they'd stick together until they made it back to Andy. Or died trying, he grimly said to himself before he could stop. But he pushed that aside, stubborn in his belief that if he was here, then the others wouldn't--no, couldn't be far behind.

Still, there was something else she mentioned that didn't quite add up, and it didn't take long to figure out what. "Wait, wait, wait, hold on." Maybe he'd heard wrong, or it'd been the slip of the tongue, but he had to check. "Did you just say something about different worlds?"

"That's right," Rita replied simply, giving the man only half of her attention, while the other half went to her food. Between the two, it was hard to determine which she was more interested in, but the food seemed to be in the lead at the moment. "I don't care if you believe me or not, but a lot of us are from different planets." It had been unbelievable to Rita, in fact, so it wouldn't be too strange if this man doubted it too. She didn't have the patience to go out of her way to convince him, however, so he could think whatever he wanted about that.

She took a few more bites of her 'pigs in blankets' before continuing, her eyes still on her plate instead of on the person she was speaking to. "Depending on where you're from, your friends could be all the way on the other side of the galaxy."

It was a cruel thing to say, and Rita knew it. For the past few days, she had been trying to steel herself against that same cruel reality: that her own friends were far beyond her reach. It wasn't like there was anyone she could turn to for support, so in the end, she needed to support herself. See the situation for what it was, accept it, and then put it behind her so she could move forward. That was all she could do. It was what she had to do.

In a matter of seconds, this girl's story had gone straight from something out of a bad movie to something from a science fiction show that was even worse. Did she really believe all that outer space stuff she just said? For a moment, he clung to the hope that she was just pulling his string, and Woody's mouth twitched into a half smile as he waited for the punchline.

But with the way she was focused on her plate, it was obvious she was more into her breakfast than any reaction she'd be getting out of him. She was...serious.

"So, what, you think you're from Mars or something?" he asked, not even bothering to hide the incredulous look in his face.

Next she was going to start talking about the Galactic Alliance or whatever. Because more spacemen (or spacewomen, in this case) was exactly what he needed. The idea that this was some kind of twisted dream that his subconscious whipped up to plague him was starting to sound more likely. Now her her earlier comments about being in a "fake" mental institute were actually kind of hilarious. Like she wouldn't be locked up in an actual one...

Her comment about being on the other side of the galaxy didn't help her case, either. Woody gave a short, mirthless laugh, but whether it was from his own anxieties or because what she'd said was honestly that out-there was hard for even him to know. "Look, I'm pretty sure the Tri-County Area is a lot closer than that, but, uh, thanks for the warning." Yeah, right.

"Mars? Never heard of it." It was obvious this guy wasn't taking her seriously, but she gave a brief, honest answer anyway. Rita had no idea where the 'Tri-County Area' was, either, but it sounded like it referred to a small region on his planet. Not something that could be located without actually knowing which planet that was to begin with.

Once she finished with that pancake-wrapped sausage, Rita looked back up at the man. "You can doubt me all you want, but who else are you going to believe? The staff?" She narrowed her eyes at him, a smug look crossing her face. "Your name isn't really Mr. Wheeler, is it?"

She'd never even heard of--wow, her brand of crazy was worse than Woody had initially thought. Was everyone here like this, or did she crack because she'd been locked up in this place for so long? Or maybe she actually did belong here. But then, if that was the case, Woody wasn't sure what that said about his situation. He was a toy. In a human body. How was he supposed to explain that to anyone without sounding like some kind of lunatic?

On the other hand, he still hadn't given up on the possibility that there were other toys like him here. After all, he couldn't be the only one, right? He refused to believe his friends were just...gone. Once he found at least one other toy, they'd be able to figure this whole mess out. Maybe.

Either way, though, Miss Not-From-Mars here had a point that he couldn't trust the staff. Woody fell silent at that, throwing an anxious glance at a nurse who walked past them. Judging by the way they escorted people through the halls and stood guard at the doors, it was obvious they were the ones in charge around here. That meant Woody probably would have them to blame for this once he pieced together what had happened to him (and possibly the others).

"Well...no," he conceded, grateful that someone here knew that wasn't his real name, and a touch annoyed because it meant that he couldn't just call her crazy and move to another table. "It's Woody, actually. But why do they keep calling me that? Do the nurses do that to you, too?"

'Woody'? Yikes. If Rita were in his shoes, she'd almost just go with Wheeler. Not like that was much better, but it sounded slightly less dumb for a name.

"They do it to everyone here, as far as I know. They call me 'Paige.' It's Rita." She paused to take a bite of her scrambled eggs, then continued. "At first I thought they were just incompetent, but they manage to get every patient's name dead wrong. It's pretty obvious they're just making them up." The night shift was the main proof that the staff were liars, but Rita wasn't sure Woody here was ready to hear about that just yet. He already didn't believe her, so there was little use in warning him.

The mage found her eyes wandering to the man's plate for the moment. It looked to her like he wasn't terribly interested in his food. It didn't matter to Rita whether he ate or not, but she expected it wouldn't take very long for him to regret leaving his plate untouched.

For a girl who thought she was from outer space, Rita had a surprisingly normal name. Woody had half-expected something flashy like Buzz Lightyear, Space Ranger, universe protection unit, or a more cheesy name like Zurg. Not that he was going to complain -- actually, he was a little relieved, because he wasn't sure if he would have been able to take her seriously if he had to deal with that on top of her weird space delusions.

But knowing that everyone here was called by the wrong name wasn't comforting, either. Woody didn't know what it meant. It could have been their idea of a sick joke, or maybe a way of keeping them organized while possibly making it harder for them to find missing friends. Somehow, though, he got the feeling there was more to it than that.

"Well, what do they get from calling us by fake names?" he asked with a confused frown. "Wouldn't sitting around and, and--" He held his palms out to emphasize his point-- "assigning different names to every single person be more trouble than it's worth?"

He'd seen Rita look at his untouched plate, and it took a second for Woody to realize that not eating probably made him look strange to anyone enjoying their own meal like a human should. But even if he pushed the food around with his fork, the idea of swallowing it didn't sound too fun right then. His stomach was already churning enough from worry over his friends. While he couldn't put it off for forever, hopefully he'd find a way out of this place before even had to get used to it.

"If you want some of mine, you can, uhhh, have it, by the way," Woody added as he nudged his tray toward Rita. He still remembered the way Mom scolded Andy as a child whenever he didn't clean off his plate.

"Could be a psychological experiment," Rita suggested. "Get a bunch of people, tell them they're someone else, and see how long it takes for them to start believing it." Of course, no government or scholarly organization Rita knew of that would ever sponsor or even allow such an unethical experiment. Whatever these guys were doing, they were probably doing a good job of keeping it hidden from authorities.

When Woody offered his food, Rita raised an eyebrow at him, looking unimpressed. "Not interested," she dismissed it easily. Did she look like she could eat that much food? "... But if you want my advice, you should probably consider eating it. When the going gets tough, it's usually the weaklings who die first."

It was another cold comment that probably wasn't going to be taken seriously, but it was solid advice. People who starved themselves during the day were bound to struggle once nightshift came around. If Woody didn't have the energy to run or fight, he was probably going to end up being monster food.

"A psychological ex--" The idea was so out-there that he couldn't even finish it, and Woody pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ignore how much warmer it felt. "Oh, come on, who's going to fall for something like that? You said so yourself that this is supposed to be a fake hospital." If it was so obviously fake, then no one in their right mind would buy into whatever lies the staff threw at them. Even Woody, who had so, so many things wrong with him right now, knew that nothing could make him believe he wasn't Andy's.

Oh, wait. Right, there were people who thought they were from space. Maybe he was giving them a little too much credit here. If they were already crazy, then it wasn't a stretch to think they could be pushed into thinking something else that was loony.

She didn't want his food, which was a shame since Woody knew it was bad to let it go to waste. "Believe me," he said as he ran a hand through his hair, grimacing, "by the time I even decide I want to eat any of this, I'd like to be--" But then his face became blank as he processed what Rita actually said just then. "Uh. What do you mean by 'die first'?"

Dying. Dying? This was the first she'd mentioned anything like that. Normally that kind of talk was at the top of the list of "stuff to warn someone about", but of course Rita hadn't seen things that way. His brush with death in that sea of garbage chips was enough to last him for a long, long...long time. But before he could say another word, someone started talking over the sound system that ran through the building. Woody nearly jumped in his seat, and he glanced around in time to see some of the nurses scurrying around as they began herding the others out of the room.

"That was just one hypothesis," Rita replied with an unconcerned shrug. "Although... if they want to convince us, it could be that they plan to keep this up for years. Throw in some basic brainwashing techniques, and maybe they'd see some results." It didn't take a genius to figure out how that could be done. Of course, being trapped at Landel's for years was completely out of the question for Rita. Four days was excessive enough as it was.

So, Woody still didn't feel like eating? Looked like he was going to be monster food after all. Too bad.

Rita thought Woody would have given up on asking questions by now, given how he responded to her answers, but he went on anyway, asking about her last comment. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you, right?" Rita stood from her seat, ready to go to the next shift. She moved to leave, but stopped after just two steps. It wasn't like it mattered what happened to some stranger, but...

"... Be careful at night."

Her conscience wouldn't quite allow her to leave someone completely unprepared for the dangers of the night, and so she left him with those words before walking away.

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DAY 52: BREAKFAST

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