The Head Doctor seemed a little exhausted as he gave orders over the microphone this shift, though he didn't seem to have any qualms about explaining why
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The first thing Thursday Next noticed upon opening her eyes was that she was lying down. Strange; she'd been sitting up moments before - she was sure of it.
The second thing she noticed was the silence. She and Anne Wirthlass had been bound for Longfellow's "The Wreck of the Hesperus," and by all rights it should have been the sound of the ocean in her ears, not this disconcerting nothing. And instead of the anguish and bleak despair that came with entering such a tragic poem, she felt - well - somewhat puzzled and a bit tired, which was more or less normal (observation three).
"Wirthlass?" she muttered, frowning. No response. Her frown deepened.
The bed - she'd been lying on a bed, she noted, and filed that away for later (four) - creaked underneath her as she sat up. She was in a small room of some sort - the whitewashed walls and antiseptic smell suggested a hospital (five?) - there was another bed across from her, though the bedclothes seemed untouched -
The smell.
The BookWorld had almost no smells, unless the smell in question was somehow important to the plot or an overarching theme. And the cold, clean scent of antiseptic was far too real to be fictional. She wasn't in Longfellow - that much she'd already guessed - but now she was almost certain she wasn't in the written word at all. And the Austen Rover had been destined for Longfellow - or at least, Wirthlass had claimed it was destined for Longfellow - and things one through five fell into place so neatly Thursday fancied she could hear the click.
Goliath. Damn them. What did Wirthlass have against her? Was she even the one pulling the strings at all? Forget that - how could she - Thursday - have been so stupid? What had she been thinking, going and trusting them like that? It was just like them to ignore the impending end of time in order to exact revenge for something that had happened nearly twenty years ago. They'd left her more or less alone for the better part of two decades - why the hell had she decided to let her guard down now?
Oh, right, the impending end of time. Which meant, of course, that right now there was none to lose. Figuratively, anyway.
How long had she been asleep? There were no windows in her room - she could have been out for hours. Who knew what Wirthlass and her cronies could have gotten up while she was here? Wirthlass was Goliath - Goliath in possession of a vehicle capable of intertextual travel - it would be naïve in the extreme to assume they hadn't gotten up to something. And Friday - did he know she was gone?
Oh God, Friday. Friday and Landen and Tuesday and Jenny. Instinctively her gaze traveled to her left hand and she began to breathe again at the sight of the ring on her finger. Okay, so that was Landen accounted for - but not her kids. And she didn't even know if Landen was okay - not really - just that he still existed - what if Goliath had gotten hold of him -
She forced herself to continue breathing at a normal rate as she slid off the bed. They'd taken her gun and she still didn't have her TravelBook. She was in no position to pull off anything right now.
At least, that was what she tried to tell herself. But when the door swung open at last, she couldn't prevent herself from going for the nurse's throat.
The nurse barely had time to get the door open before Emily leapt at her, a surprised cry sounding out that sent an orderly running. The man pushed past both the women, forcefully yanking Emily off of his coworker before she could do much damage.
"Mrs. Bellman!" The nurse snapped sharply at the patient, her temper getting the best of her for a moment. She gripped her throat protectively, staring as the orderly kept a tight hold on the struggling woman. "That is no way to behave, especially on your first day!"
Thursday had been trying to pull away from the orderly - she should've known the nurse wouldn't have been the only one around - but she paused when she heard the first words that came out of said nurse's mouth.
She wasn't the Bellman - that was Commander Bradshaw! But that wasn't the problem - the problem was that the nurse was quite clearly Goliath, and they shouldn't have known about Jurisfiction at all, let alone her involvement in it. Unless Wirthlass had somehow managed to get the attention of Text Grand Central - and -
Thursday focused on the nurse as she resumed struggling. "I'm not Bellman anymore," she spat. "Goliath isn't terribly up to date on its information, is it? But never mind that - who are you, where am I, and what the hell have you done with my family?!"
Something in Emily's demands sparked professionalism in the nurse--or perhaps it was the fact that the orderly had been able to keep hold of the woman--and she let out a slow sigh. It was hard on the new ones when they first arrived.
"Calm down, ma'am. Your name is Emily Bellman, and you're at Landel's Institute." She paused for a moment then, to let her words sink in. "We're all here to help you get well again. That's why your family brought you here. Now please relax. It's time for lunch, and we need to show you the way to the cafeteria."
Thursday's eyes narrowed. They were trying to convince her that Bellman was her surname? Why the hell would they do that? And "Landel's" - that didn't sound familiar at all. It was strange - usually Goliath plastered their name on everything they did. But the nurse hadn't said she wasn't Goliath - so the place had to be Goliath-sponsored at the very least.
It was the line about her family that set her off again. She managed to get one arm free and she lunged forward again, swinging at the nurse's jaw. How dare she, how dare she pretend that Land had been the cause of all this when she knew bloody well it was Goliath!
"Landen would never stick me in some bloody institute," she snarled. "Not even if I were sick."
The nurse wasn't quite so fortunate this time, Emily's fist connecting and sending her stumbling back. The orderly grabbed the woman's arm just a moment too late, but that didn't stop him from jerking it painfully behind her back.
"Shouldn't have done that, Miss." The man shook his head, already knowing what was coming, even as the nurse regained her balance, and prepared a sedative.
"That is more than enough, Mrs. Bellman." The nurse stepped quickly to the still struggling patient, smoothly injecting her with the drug. "The staff will not tolerate such violence! Now calm down!"
Of course, the last order was a forgone conclusion as soon as the needle entered Emily's skin.
Thursday's eyes went wide with shock as she felt the prick of the needle. Well, she thought, that was new. They'd locked her in a room with no reading material and eradicated her husband before, but they'd certainly never tried to sedate her.
"What the fuck do you think you're doi - " she began, but her motions gradually became more sluggish and her voice trailed off. She tried a half-hearted glare at the nurse, but somehow she got the feeling it wasn't nearly as effective as it had been a few moments ago.
"Still don' think Land sen' me here," she mumbled. "'m not goin' anywhere."
Although it didn't look like she had much of a choice at the moment.
The second thing she noticed was the silence. She and Anne Wirthlass had been bound for Longfellow's "The Wreck of the Hesperus," and by all rights it should have been the sound of the ocean in her ears, not this disconcerting nothing. And instead of the anguish and bleak despair that came with entering such a tragic poem, she felt - well - somewhat puzzled and a bit tired, which was more or less normal (observation three).
"Wirthlass?" she muttered, frowning. No response. Her frown deepened.
The bed - she'd been lying on a bed, she noted, and filed that away for later (four) - creaked underneath her as she sat up. She was in a small room of some sort - the whitewashed walls and antiseptic smell suggested a hospital (five?) - there was another bed across from her, though the bedclothes seemed untouched -
The smell.
The BookWorld had almost no smells, unless the smell in question was somehow important to the plot or an overarching theme. And the cold, clean scent of antiseptic was far too real to be fictional. She wasn't in Longfellow - that much she'd already guessed - but now she was almost certain she wasn't in the written word at all. And the Austen Rover had been destined for Longfellow - or at least, Wirthlass had claimed it was destined for Longfellow - and things one through five fell into place so neatly Thursday fancied she could hear the click.
Goliath. Damn them. What did Wirthlass have against her? Was she even the one pulling the strings at all? Forget that - how could she - Thursday - have been so stupid? What had she been thinking, going and trusting them like that? It was just like them to ignore the impending end of time in order to exact revenge for something that had happened nearly twenty years ago. They'd left her more or less alone for the better part of two decades - why the hell had she decided to let her guard down now?
Oh, right, the impending end of time. Which meant, of course, that right now there was none to lose. Figuratively, anyway.
How long had she been asleep? There were no windows in her room - she could have been out for hours. Who knew what Wirthlass and her cronies could have gotten up while she was here? Wirthlass was Goliath - Goliath in possession of a vehicle capable of intertextual travel - it would be naïve in the extreme to assume they hadn't gotten up to something. And Friday - did he know she was gone?
Oh God, Friday. Friday and Landen and Tuesday and Jenny. Instinctively her gaze traveled to her left hand and she began to breathe again at the sight of the ring on her finger. Okay, so that was Landen accounted for - but not her kids. And she didn't even know if Landen was okay - not really - just that he still existed - what if Goliath had gotten hold of him -
She forced herself to continue breathing at a normal rate as she slid off the bed. They'd taken her gun and she still didn't have her TravelBook. She was in no position to pull off anything right now.
At least, that was what she tried to tell herself. But when the door swung open at last, she couldn't prevent herself from going for the nurse's throat.
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"Mrs. Bellman!" The nurse snapped sharply at the patient, her temper getting the best of her for a moment. She gripped her throat protectively, staring as the orderly kept a tight hold on the struggling woman. "That is no way to behave, especially on your first day!"
Reply
She wasn't the Bellman - that was Commander Bradshaw! But that wasn't the problem - the problem was that the nurse was quite clearly Goliath, and they shouldn't have known about Jurisfiction at all, let alone her involvement in it. Unless Wirthlass had somehow managed to get the attention of Text Grand Central - and -
Thursday focused on the nurse as she resumed struggling. "I'm not Bellman anymore," she spat. "Goliath isn't terribly up to date on its information, is it? But never mind that - who are you, where am I, and what the hell have you done with my family?!"
Reply
"Calm down, ma'am. Your name is Emily Bellman, and you're at Landel's Institute." She paused for a moment then, to let her words sink in. "We're all here to help you get well again. That's why your family brought you here. Now please relax. It's time for lunch, and we need to show you the way to the cafeteria."
Reply
It was the line about her family that set her off again. She managed to get one arm free and she lunged forward again, swinging at the nurse's jaw. How dare she, how dare she pretend that Land had been the cause of all this when she knew bloody well it was Goliath!
"Landen would never stick me in some bloody institute," she snarled. "Not even if I were sick."
Reply
"Shouldn't have done that, Miss." The man shook his head, already knowing what was coming, even as the nurse regained her balance, and prepared a sedative.
"That is more than enough, Mrs. Bellman." The nurse stepped quickly to the still struggling patient, smoothly injecting her with the drug. "The staff will not tolerate such violence! Now calm down!"
Of course, the last order was a forgone conclusion as soon as the needle entered Emily's skin.
Reply
"What the fuck do you think you're doi - " she began, but her motions gradually became more sluggish and her voice trailed off. She tried a half-hearted glare at the nurse, but somehow she got the feeling it wasn't nearly as effective as it had been a few moments ago.
"Still don' think Land sen' me here," she mumbled. "'m not goin' anywhere."
Although it didn't look like she had much of a choice at the moment.
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