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Night 48: M21-30 Hallway
Shinji was worried. He'd been waiting for a while - Kaworu still hadn't arrived. He didn't know why and as always his insecurities had begun to flare up. Maybe he'd changed his mind. Maybe he didn't really want to see Shinji. Maybe he'd simply been hallucinating the whole thing. Shinji glanced down the darkened hallway, flashlight dangling from his
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If someone showed up who was uninvited, L could do little to stop them, except to refuse to talk. There was always the possibility that any uninvited guests might be a physical threat, but he thought it was improbable: they would come out of curiosity related to a found or pilfered note reading M25 TONIGHT, and they would not be sure what they might encounter there. If an opportunity to perpetuate carnage were the draw, there were easier pickings in lonelier areas.
As when Jones had knocked at the door, L hopped out of his chair, snapped the door open just wide enough to see who was in the hall, and looked out. By the dim light, he could see Howell and, behind him, Javert. He stepped back from the door, towards his chair.
"Please come in and close the door. Abe, Dr. Jones, Howell, Mr. Javert." He indicated each with a nod of his head, raising his eyebrows a little at Howell's attire. "We're just waiting for Mr. Lunge, now. Mr. Javert, we have been talking about the experimental trials."
[Order: L => Abe => Indy => Howl => Javert for now.]
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He turned back to Dr. Jones. "Has anyone found out the reasoning behind the experimentation? It seems a lot of hoops and formal ritual to go through if Landel merely takes power from the pain of others."
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Howell he recognized as the person who'd been with Keman the night of their run-in with the biting girl, and he recognized Javert's face as one he'd seen around plenty of times; Indy nodded in greeting at both of them. Howell's choice of clothes was strange to say the least, but perhaps Indy didn't have a lot of room to talk on that score.
"That's what I'd like to know myself," he answered, turning back to Abe. "I haven't heard many details about what exactly goes on in the individual trials, so I could only speculate about the overarching purpose. Maybe someone else has a theory, though." He glanced around as an invitation to the room at large, and specifically the two newcomers. As long as they were all here, it wasn't a bad idea to see what he could learn, especially from a source as authoritative as he expected Mr. Javert here might be.
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The others were an interesting bunch. It didn't shock him that Ryuuzaki had gathered up the best he could find, and he had certainly read the name Javert more than once or twice on the bulletin board. Howl mutually recognized Dr. Jones from the night Keman was mauled. (Honestly, nothing could keep that boy out of trouble.) They all looked very serious, so Howl smiled even more charmingly.
"Theories are all well and good," he interjected politely, adjusting his hair over his shoulder, "but it sounds as though we have very little in the way of details between the lot of us. Has anyone ever attempted to interview the victims?"
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He installed himself against a wall that afforded him a good view of the other men, folding his arms and thrusting his chin into his cravat. For a moment, he only listened, until Howell's question prompted him to look up.
"I have." He produced his notebook from his greatcoat pocket, flipping it open as he spoke. "I don't know how much you've been told, but I was investigating the experimental sessions with Miles Edgeworth until his recent disappearance. I have met with several patients and have scheduled interviews with three more tomorrow. My notes are detailed, if not extensive; Edgeworth possessed the better part of the information, and I was unable to acquire his notes after his release. I am willing to make copies of what I do possess, if you like."
Not, he added silently, without some censoring. There was nothing to be gained in giving them the patients' names; he had learned his lesson there.
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Minutes passed, marked by Lunge's continuing absence.
There was a chance that he had been attacked on the journey between his own room and L's, but it was only a small one; the areas around their rooms were generally regarded as safer than anywhere else. L didn't have the impression that Lunge would have elected not to attend the meeting. If he had been aware of another commitment, he would have left a message for "Lars." What else could have happened to him?
-- If he was not delayed en route, the most plausible explanation is that he was selected as an experimental subject. L felt a slight twist of dread. If that is the case... it's already too late to help him.
The experiments are conducted upstairs -- where? There are two areas which are not labeled on the maps I have, presumably because of the strength of the locks on the doors. One is just above one of the dormitory blocks, on the same hall as the morgue and the experimental laboratory, and contains a number of smaller locked rooms; the other is near a number of rooms which seem mostly dedicated to the day-to-day use of the staff. It is more likely to be the former than the latter...? Yes.
At the same time, he listened to the others discussing the experiments. Javert offered copies of the notes that he knew to exist. In response, L said, "Please, Mr. Javert. I would appreciate it."
They couldn't wait for Lunge any longer; he would have to go ahead with his plans.
L sat in his chair, hands folded over his knees, and spoke to the assembled company in a clear, articulate voice.
"Gentlemen. To begin with, please keep what we are about to discuss confined to us and Mr. Lunge, for the time being, and please hold any questions until I have finished.
"The first thing that I wanted to talk about tonight is the necessity of coordinating our efforts. I have been trapped here for almost a week. Some of you have been here as long; some of you have been here much longer. It appears that at least a few of the other patients have been here for a month or more, and many of those people have engaged in persistent efforts to explore and also to attempt to escape from the Institute."
Already, the ambient institutional smell was normal to him, difficult to notice anymore; he had acclimated in a way that wasn't comforting, and it irritated him. He showed no external sign of this annoyance.
"We spend our days in activities which are both dull and highly regimented; the entire purpose of our schedule seems to be to keep us as busy and docile as possible. We can opt out of some of these occupations, but not on a regular basis, and not to do anything other than sit and think, or write, or pretend to nap. It is impossible to gather useful evidence that is not only what is already obvious on the surface, except through hearsay.
"At night, many of us scramble for anything resembling a clue, in spite of hazardous circumstances. What unites all of us, apart from the obvious specifics of our situation, is a lack of demonstrable, concrete progress in any serious sense."
His gaze moved between the other men as he spoke, settling on one or another when that person seemed pertinent to the point he was making. His tone held a commanding element; not one that suggested that he expected to be obeyed, necessarily, but one that indicated that when he held forth on a topic, he was accustomed to people listening to him before they argued, and prepared to have to persuade them to his side.
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"Everything I have seen so far suggests that this place itself does not change from night to night, regardless of what happens, and that most information we may glean through that kind of exploration is intended to be useless to us... almost as if it's a stage setting. For example, the skylight in the Sun Room was shattered the first night that I was here, but only a few hours later, it was as if it had never been touched. Every file I have managed to look at has been full of useless nonsense. This is only a different way of keeping us busy; of decreasing the possibility of meaningful breakthroughs.
"All that said, I believe that we have no choice but to investigate our surroundings to the best of our abilities. The sameness of the place from night to night is the first thing that I would like to establish, perhaps through an experiment. Then, even if others have combed every accessible room, there are still rooms which are inaccessible, places which have not been mapped, and so on. Apart from that, we cannot be sure of the quality of previous efforts: there is no guarantee that a person who has searched a room has not missed something pertinent. But within our current company, there is little reason for us to visit a single area a number of times with no result, and risk missing another. To do so would be to risk -- no, ensure -- diminishing returns on our efforts.
"It is also im-- "
He was interrupted by the radio. He held up a hand, half-curled, with his index finger pointing up into the air: an indication that he planned to continue speaking.
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The place's properties also meant that if they planned any unified assault the entire thing would have to be carried out, fully and successfully, in a single night. When it was difficult just to get a gathering of this size together in one room and the threat of capture haunted even those who had already undergone their torments, it seemed an impossible task.
When the radio had finished Abe turned to L expectantly. "Please continue."
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Those clothes, though--Indy was no expert, but they looked mid-nineteenth-century to him. The mark of another time traveler, or just an affectation? They'd have to talk again sometime.
He turned and listened to Ryuuzaki's speech, which thus far wasn't telling them anything they didn't already know about their collective progress. It was evident that Ryuuzaki (unless this was some kind of ruse, which possibility Indy wasn't discounting just yet) trusted everyone he'd invited, or at least considered them competent enough not to need to check each other's work. Indy, though, wasn't quite ready to buy that, especially given how underwhelmingly forthcoming the host himself had been to date.
When the radio went off, Indy paid attention and filed away what the girl had said, but it was obvious this crowd wasn't going on any rescue missions--not until the lecture was over, at least.
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And yet he was not present. He did not seem the sort to be unpunctual. There were several potential explanations, but only one stood out in Javert's mind. His suspicions were confirmed when Ryuuzaki mentioned Lunge by name. So he was invited, and he had not come.
Still, his expression remained impassive, head slightly bowed in thought as he listened. What the younger man had to say was nothing new, though it was well thought out for someone who had been here for a relatively short period of time. Javert was not a man in the habit of working closely with other investigators and had never been one, but it was clear he would have to change his methods here. At the very least, this meeting proved that others were willing to do the same; if nothing else, it was a step in the right direction.
His pocket crackled and he brought out his own radio with no change in expression, merely listening to the message before tucking it back into his pocket. There were healers here; they would do a better job of finding this man, whoever he was, than he. It wasn't any of his concern. He turned his attention back to Ryuuzaki, waiting silently.
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"As I was saying... I suspect that exploration will mostly provide distraction, with limited benefit. However, if this place is truly static in a physical sense, or close to it, that may in itself be a vital clue."
He paused, wishing that he were not in a small, overpopulated room. He had become used to the presence of the NPA officers through the course of the previous year, but in all, when he had given speeches of this nature in the past, he had delivered them as a faceless entity. The use of electronic processing on his voice provided both anonymity and, sometimes, a degree of intimidation. Now, he felt trapped within the larger trap, even though the gathering had only happened at his own invitation.
He found himself envying Landel and Jill: their facelessness, their ability to broadcast from secret places, and the agency which to control the way they chose to present themselves to their audience. Never mind, he thought. It's useless to wish that conditions were other than they are. The best chance is to turn the situation as much to our advantage as possible.
After a beat of silence occupied by his racing thoughts, he continued to speak, his words sounding as if they had been chosen with precision and care.
"Beyond that, it seems to me that we should focus the majority of our mental energy on things that change. We may find key evidence in things which are dynamic, or we may find it in the differences between what is dynamic and what is constant.
"The first night I was here was the night on which some people appeared to die. That night, the walls of the corridors were sometimes... hm... unstable. The drywall seemed to vanish at irregular intervals."
He elected not to mention his own death on the floor of the Arts and Crafts Room.
"Then, a few days later, I was one of the people who had no knowledge of any identity other than the one in my file. Mr. Lunge and I went to look at the ruins that night; it was a trip we had arranged before we were aware of what was going to happen, and we chose to keep the appointment. At any rate, under those conditions, the character of the Institute seemed different. There was no atmosphere of neglect or decay in the corridors. But beyond that, where there should have been ruined buildings, all I could see was an empty field. When I was myself again, I made another visit, and I was able to see what everyone else could see. To me, it is unlikely that this has no importance.
"So, along these lines, I propose that we make a point of learning what we can about everything anyone can remember about past transmissions on the radio or the intercom. Not that we can trust what we hear, but... if it is being said, it is important. Landel rarely misses a chance to allude to anything that has befallen us.
"On a related note, there is the matter of how much Jill can be trusted, and Jack, before her -- Alec Doyle. It's unfortunate. He has only been dead for two and a half weeks, but much of the collective memory about him has already faded. Given what we do know about him -- his supposed return from the dead Saturday night, for example -- preserving what people still remember might be vital.
"Then, there are the questions about why we are here. The experiments seem to be key in some way; is everything else a cover for them, or does our imprisonment here have a greater purpose? Either way, what does Landel -- or whoever is controlling him -- hope to achieve through them? Also, are the patients who are forced to act as guardians posted in key points, or are they merely further distraction in what would otherwise be high-traffic areas?"
He raised his hand to his face, then began to tap at his jaw, just beside his mouth, with the pad of his long index finger. The flow of his words slowed, showing minor hesitation.
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"There may be 'patients' who are colluding with him in some way -- we can't be sure. In either case, any of these people could have a vested interest in interfering with serious attempts to investigate. I would like to operate under their radar as much as possible, which means keeping our activities off of the bulletin board and practicing extreme discretion when discussing them with others, particularly those known to be involved with other patient organizations."
The intercom broke through. In the case of the new announcement, the timing couldn't have been better; it underscored the point he was trying to make, almost like an objective demonstration of it, although Landel's theatricality irritated him. 'The war'? Which war? -- And what happened to his illness?
He lowered his hand to his knee. When the sound faded away, he made a helpless, eloquent shrug.
"While I'm curious about I.R.I.S. and Project Next, I have to say: if Jill's compatriot is truly so important, you'd think she would be more forthcoming with a name." His tone was mild, but the note of sarcasm was unmistakeable.
It was gone almost as soon as it had appeared; he was all seriousness again. "On that note, Mr. Javert, I believe Mr. Lunge may be needing some assistance later this evening."
There was a sense of finality in the way he spoke, one that he hoped made it obvious that he had finished for the moment with what he had wanted to say, and was now inviting comment. This was a meeting, after all, not a lecture.
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Well, bringing people back from the dead, for one thing. It didn't take much imagination to guess what advantages that would have in a war. You could look at the whole operation as a kind of training ground for amateur soldiers, a survival exercise. Maybe Pierson had been right about this place being government-backed. Who had he met from around now; Dent? Peter?
He turned his attention once more to Ryuuzaki's speech. The argument for focusing on what changed didn't strike him as terribly compelling--or even as much of an argument at all, since the gist of it seemed to be that they should all study what interested Ryuuzaki. Some of the talking points Indy could agree with: preserving the collective memory could only help them, even if the collective memory contained an overwhelming amount of hokum; and studying the variables sounded like as reasonable an avenue of study as any. The rest of it rang of pure conjecture, with the implication that the logic behind it was so self-evident that Ryuuzaki didn't need to bother explaining it.
He was tempted to argue for the importance of exploring the seemingly static places, and the scientific necessity of doing so via multiple trials, but that tack would threaten to turn the whole discussion into a faculty meeting, with everyone defending his pet projects. Pointing out again that Ryuuzaki had given Indy, at least, little reason to trust him and thus his proclamations on who else they should trust were a little rich seemed like a waste of time as well. Instead, Indy folded his arms and talked logistics: "Why don't you clarify what you mean by 'our activities.' It sounds like what you're proposing is a secret society, with the membership and marching orders determined by you. That sound about right?"
They might as well all be on the same page here.
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"It appears to me that the immediate focus of a group, however small, on any single project, is sure to attract the attention of Landel regardless of how discreetly the group may go about it. With Search and Rescue already established, I find myself reluctant to change course so soon. The doctors responsible for what takes place at night are only human, as far as I can tell; it seems one of them might reveal far more information about Landel than your experiments might."
He settled back against the wall, the hint of a smile on his features. "Then again, I haven't the patience of a scientist, nor the learning of one. If there are patients here colluding with Landel--which is not entirely out of the question--I might find that a more worthwhile pursuit. There's no shortage of patients who claim to have slept through the night when they could very well have done otherwise."
He afforded Jones a brief glance. "My reasons for meeting with fellow investigators run not so much toward the establishment of a secret organization as they did toward a simple, secure, and efficient means of exchanging information. As you said yourself, M. Ryuuzaki, I believe there is far too little collaboration between individuals here; that Edgeworth's missing notes were such a blow to my personal project and that I appear to be the only patient within living memory to copy the radio and intercom transmissions down only confirms that as fact."
He looked up at last, one eyebrow raised. "That said, I believe you were proposing the latter, rather than Dr. Jones's 'secret society.' At the very least, I should hope you were; I've little patience for the former."
The radio in his pocket flared to life again with a crackle of static; he was silent as he listened, and said nothing when the broadcast ended. He had never thought much of Jill; likely there were other, kindlier patients already on their way to search for this purported ally of theirs. He had other priorities tonight.
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Ryuuzaki's proposal was plain enough, and it appealed to Howl's own theories. The radio had spoken of spells, which had to be necromancy, but that was different from the building itself. Whatever magic had been used to create this place, it was very systematic. It was static, because it was the same equation every day. The spell would always exist exactly as it had been cast. Nothing could be destroyed, because the damage was not calculated into the image. Whether or not such an element was on purpose, Howl could not tell, but Landel benefited from it. Every morning, Howl awoke to find the institute as uniform as ever. Theoretically, of course. Howl's eyes went glassier as the possible equations and buildings blocks lined up in his mind.
If he was correct, the naturally any changes were either intentional, or they were mistakes. Holes. Miscalculations. That first night, Howl had feared that the whole institute would fail and crush them as the magic was released. But it had remained stable, even though Ryuuzaki and others had appeared to die. The memory still made his blood run cold. Was that a planned experiment, or a side effect of whatever had gone amiss? I.R.I.S. was unusual, and had not returned, so Howl could only suppose that someone tried to modify the spell to include her, and it had backfired. Faulty, sloppy spellwork by someone with far too much power. It didn't feel like the work of Landel himself, or whoever the Wizard behind it all was.
The errors could be exploited by a powerful wizard, but they would explain little without that potency to break into them. Howl imagined finding one of those cracks and tearing it open, but a phantom pain in his chest stopped that thought. He couldn't help but wonder again, how much longer did he have? Without Calcifer, and with his magic drained as much as it had been, it was difficult not to see the hourglass hanging over his head. His condition appeared stable, but he couldn't reassure himself.
Howl swept his hair out of his face, and fixed it unnecessarily as he waited until the radio had silenced itself. If the radio wasn't a cruel lie, then the people on the other side of the device were not part of the illusion as the staff appeared to be. They were likely as trapped as the rest of them, only with more resources. As for where they hid during the day... who could say. It made Howl pessimistic about how real they could be. Or, if they were genuine, how much they could honestly do.
"They're quite talkative tonight, aren't they?" he commented, smiling. He expected Ryuuzaki to go on, as if he had said nothing. The others were handling the objections to being roped into joining some secret club perfectly well.
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On top of that he'd actually done what Abe only dreamt of doing and pulled together what seemed to be very useful minds set to the cause of defeating this mad place. The only unfortunate part, Abe mused as he listened to the others set out their thoughts, was that they seemed to be thinking far too small.
"I must disagree with you in one respect, Inspector Javert. I do not believe the doctors, or for that matter Landel himself, are completely human." He set the spoon aside, freeing up his hands for communication. "I didn't have a chance to introduce myself properly on the bulletin, but I was previously a member of an organization trained specifically to deal with supernatural threats. Landel's behavior, the amount of power it would take to create and maintain an area of this size, the seeming randomness in drawing us here, they all indicate that either he himself is inhuman or he's working with very inhuman forces."
Though god knows Abe couldn't begin to fathom what, or who. Landel seemed loathe to put up any runes or symbols to himself/his dark master, everything in the institution seemed to be focused on clean and neat rather than occult. But then again, perhaps that was it--perhaps he wanted them clean and neat, wiped of will and personality.
"In that case, the experiments might not even be experiments, the entire point of them might be to cause us torment and pain. I'd caution you against trying to attribute logic and motive to a mind that might be beyond our comprehension."
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