Night 54: East Wing, Hall A [2nd Floor]
[From here.]So far, it seemed they were the only ones on that side of the main hall. Edgar wasn't about to complain- after all, that meant the storerooms would still be full, the wares there not yet picked clean by other resourceful patients. He shook his light as the beam wavered again, shining it down the corridor and into the corners. The
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Edgar was right in several respects. Aguilar had most likely used the riot as an excuse to do what he would eventually have done anyway, framed either as a punishment that he would have found some reason to apply sooner rather than later, or as "training." The two of them had been lucky, but that luck was mostly circumstantial, and there might have been as many different experiences of the "punishment" as there were people in the Institute.
Even so, it was ridiculous under the circumstances--unnecessary--for Aguilar to try to present what was most likely an experiment as a punishment.
Edgar was having no luck with the doors either; that meant that the maps were accurate, at least when it came to the three at hand. L gave up and stood back, leaning against the wall near the door he had tried to open. He glanced down at the open end of the corridor. Still nothing, which was a relief.
"The next thing would be an explosion, but that might be too dangerous to try under current conditions, especially when satisfying our curiosity is the only concrete goal." He still felt some temptation to let someone who was hypothetically expendable try, but when he had no way to shield them, and when the profit wasn't obvious, there wasn't much point. "Then again... locked doors must be locked for a reason, but I'd prefer to have more of an idea of which door is likely to lead somewhere useful before we--"
The intercom clicked on, a man with a faint Spanish accent began to speak, and if L said anything else, he had no memory of it.
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