Nightshift 44: Main File Storage

[its_the_mileage]

[from here]No tell-tale insect sounds yet. Nothing trying to bite through his jacket, either. Indy brandished the aerosol can and moved toward the file cabinets, looking for the "P" section

Comments

[quarter_english]

So he recognized his father, and vice-versa, yet their interaction mirrored what was in the file, rather than what Dr. Jones would have expected. It was consistent with everything he'd learned about the Institute so far, yet the people who he had seen from his own life, the people who were at the Institute as patients, seemed to be aware of what he knew to be the truth.

A few files turned up which might or might not be Mello's, but on reflection, L decided that a random sampling might be more useful. He began to pull whichever file came to hand -- a few Ks, then he moved down and took a few from other drawers, other letters, flipping each over and scanning it before discarding it to a pile on the floor.

One thing was universal: the dates were always blacked out. The information would be useless in determining whether or not a purge had occurred and whether or not the bodies in the woods could be related to it. He let out a frustrated sigh, then the words trailed out, reluctant and with mild chagrin, "I do not think this information is applicable to my particular, current questions."

[its_the_mileage]

"If you're finished, could you do me a favor? See if you can find a file for a 'Harry Lucas, Sr.' It'll cut down on the amount of time we have to spend in here." Indy was conscious of the fact that he was giving more information than he was getting in return here, but it wasn't as though his pseudonym was a state secret, after all. Besides, he still didn't trust these cabinets not to be buggy. Open the wrong drawer and they might unleash the swarm.

As he worked, he added, "If you can use a computer, there are some in the doctors' offices downstairs. You might have a better chance at finding some real files there, or at least dated copies of these." Or more lies--it probably depended on whether Landel was more interested in keeping them from anything useful or throwing them a bone on any given night. Indy was sure no one would find anything in those devices that someone didn't want them to find.

[quarter_english]

In an ordinary situation, L would not be willing to search through files for someone else, but here... well... what else was he doing? Apart from that, it would save time. This was only his second night in the Institute, yet already, he understood that it might not be a good idea to stay in any one place for too long. He made a soft noise of agreement, then began to flip through the files in the L drawer.

He paused, though, when Dr. Jones mentioned computers -- as if he cannot use them himself, or as if it is common for people here to be unable to. With a quizzical expression, he asked, "If? Is it an unusual skill, Dr. Jones?"

Two files pressed against the front and back of the tip of his long index finger, where he held his place in the drawer. No "Lucas, Harry" (or Henry, or any other official variation) just yet.

[its_the_mileage]

Whoops. Indy decided he'd better backtrack. The ratio of information-given to information-received was getting more skewed by the minute, and not in a direction he liked. "I'm a scientist. I try not to make assumptions," he countered. He left it at that. The simplest bluffs, in Indy's experience, were usually the best.

Well, that put Ryuuzaki from sometime around 2009 or even later, didn't it? Something gained, at least. Chances were good he'd need someone who could work a computer at some point; fifteen minutes with a display model in a shop probably didn't qualify him as an expert, especially if Pierson had been right about their being encrypted somehow.

Speaking of Pierson, if he had a file, it wasn't here. If it wasn't the name, could just be misfiled, or maybe they hadn't moved it from downstairs yet--too bad he hadn't had a chance to check. Indy tried to quash the various sinister alternatives that kept suggesting themselves among the mundane ones.

"So much for that," he said, stepping away from the drawer. "I'm ready to move on when you are."

[quarter_english]

It hadn't occurred to L -- a man from 2004, a man who had spent most of his life alone in a room in front of a computer -- that some people here might not be able to use them, even though he was aware of the rumors that some came from different times, and the fact that people he had known when they were teenagers had been present as adults suggested that it was possible. Even Lunge claimed to have been brought from a date almost a decade earlier than L.

He gave his head a tiny shake of annoyance. His analysis, his considerable insight, was based on the world he knew. In some ways, that will be useless to me here. How much "unreality" is possible? A failure to reset the parameters of his thinking might lead to a failure in a larger sense: he could be trapped in the Institute forever, or until his death. There is no way to be certain of how many people are conversant with various kinds of technology; even a poll would be relatively useless, since the responses would only be anecdotal and the patient population appears to shift on a frequent basis. Then, how useful will the information be?

Turning his attention back to the drawer, he flicked through a few more folders, and there it was: LUCAS, HARRY SR. Removing the folder from the drawer, he held it out to Jones, dangling it from between his fingertips.

"Yes, I am ready." He gathered up the pillowcase and hefted his flashlight, then slouched back over towards the door. The thought struck him as he walked: Is Dr. Jones one of them? Almost anyone might be.

[To here.]