001 - A tragic mix of Audio and Video
[Dorian arrived less than a day prior. The last thing he remembered prior to arriving here was attempting to destroy the painting, the evidence. He remembered that moment, the realization that as the blade slashed the canvas that it also tore at his chest. This was what he kept replaying in his mind, over and over. That moment. His death. He was dead.
He had spent his day alternately looking into the mirror and destroying his room in search for the painting, after having discovered that his room had been liberated from his house. Finding nothing, he turned his attentions on the one thing in his room that was most definitely amiss; a strange white object with a number of buttons that depressed when touched, and what appeared to be a window through which he could make appear words and images. He had no idea how this strange object worked, yet he was pressing the buttons in great frustration.]
[Audio.]
I cannot begin to imagine... [Dorian presses another button and cuts the feed entirely. Less than a minute later, he has turned the object back on.]
[Video.]
[Dorian sees himself in the glass. He moves the object closer to his face, and his image in the glass appears as a mirror that he has leaned towards.] What a very curious little mirror...
[Dorian runs his fingers through his hair and closely inspects his features. Finally, apparently satisfied, he sets the object down and walks away. The video is a riveting feed of the ceiling and distantly, the audio is Dorian... talking to himself.]
What curious hell is this that I have earned? It seems clear that I am no longer living, and yet still I breathe. I am in my own room, however it has been freed of the confines of the house and is... somewhere else. I should not believe it, except for the fact that it is incredible... [Dorian laughs to himself, and then he sighs.] ... and I can believe anything, provided that it is incredible.
[There is a long pause.]
Or perhaps I am still down by the docks. I have dreamt up far stranger things in those dens than this...
[Some time later, Dorian returns to the desk and sees the white object on the desk. As he moves closer, he sees himself move into the glass and realizes that, as he had pressed a button to cause it to reflect like this earlier, he perhaps should press another button to return it to its original state. The video feed cuts out as a button, the wrong one, is pressed.]
[Audio.]
[Some time later.] Where has my bathtub gone?
He had spent his day alternately looking into the mirror and destroying his room in search for the painting, after having discovered that his room had been liberated from his house. Finding nothing, he turned his attentions on the one thing in his room that was most definitely amiss; a strange white object with a number of buttons that depressed when touched, and what appeared to be a window through which he could make appear words and images. He had no idea how this strange object worked, yet he was pressing the buttons in great frustration.]
[Audio.]
I cannot begin to imagine... [Dorian presses another button and cuts the feed entirely. Less than a minute later, he has turned the object back on.]
[Video.]
[Dorian sees himself in the glass. He moves the object closer to his face, and his image in the glass appears as a mirror that he has leaned towards.] What a very curious little mirror...
[Dorian runs his fingers through his hair and closely inspects his features. Finally, apparently satisfied, he sets the object down and walks away. The video is a riveting feed of the ceiling and distantly, the audio is Dorian... talking to himself.]
What curious hell is this that I have earned? It seems clear that I am no longer living, and yet still I breathe. I am in my own room, however it has been freed of the confines of the house and is... somewhere else. I should not believe it, except for the fact that it is incredible... [Dorian laughs to himself, and then he sighs.] ... and I can believe anything, provided that it is incredible.
[There is a long pause.]
Or perhaps I am still down by the docks. I have dreamt up far stranger things in those dens than this...
[Some time later, Dorian returns to the desk and sees the white object on the desk. As he moves closer, he sees himself move into the glass and realizes that, as he had pressed a button to cause it to reflect like this earlier, he perhaps should press another button to return it to its original state. The video feed cuts out as a button, the wrong one, is pressed.]
[Audio.]
[Some time later.] Where has my bathtub gone?