(Untitled)

[equivocal_means]

Characters: Alfred Bester (equivocal_means), OPEN
When: April 05-11
Where: Bester's mind. Since he's a telepath, he should be used to the idea.
Rating: PG - PG-13ish?
Summary: A perfectly normal journey in the mind of a perfectly safe and entirely stable individual.

Comments

Wednesday

[brig_gen_maes]

Maes looks around the hallway, his gaze resting for quite a while on the word "OBEY." It's military, there's no doubt about that. Well, military or a prison. But there are no bars that he can see. He adds asylum to the list as he opens a door. The sterile rooms seemed oppressive, and that's what Maes associates with asylums. He closed that door and continued to walk down the hall, pausing in front of the screen as it talked about the Corps. Military, then. Shaking his head, Maes looked for any signs of life, any sign of the place's inhabitant.

Wednesday

[equivocal_means]

In the air is a faint hum, almost mechanical in nature - either some air-conditioning system, or conversation too far away to be discerned. It's all white noise, easier to miss than silence.

The video played on, the sound harsh in the non-silence - too-pleasant people who never stop smiling, voices with an annoyingly musical lilt. "Protect the family. As part of the Corps, you're different - and that makes you special."

"Can I help you with something?" At the end of the hallway, Bester appears, looking with some confusion at Maes. The screen and its message flickered out, as Bester began walking towards him, boots clicking on the cold floor. "And I'd like to know how you got in here, if you don't mind."

Wednesday

[brig_gen_maes]

Maes is concerned by the atmosphere. It feels like brainwashing. The repetition, the things everywhere... It wouldn't be the first military organization to brainwash its people into behavior, and it wouldn't be the last, but seeing it didn't ever become more comfortable. When you brainwashed, you got zealots. When you got zealots, things spiraled out of control.

Hearing the voice, Maes looked up. "I don't know, can you?" Ah. Seeing Bester, things started to fit. The government-ish organization he'd spoken of, the way he'd been so careful... It was official, but not regular forces. Maes smiled affably. "I would tell you if I knew. I'm pretty sure I'm asleep and so are you, and as soon as one of us wakes up, this meeting ends."

Wednesday

[equivocal_means]

Having an outsider here was strangely uncomfortable; the temperature chilled a few more degrees, even as Bester was already smiling back at his intruder. "Depends on what you want. I can't say I was expecting any guests."

That it was a dream made as much sense as any other explanation, and he nodded, turning aside. No harm in going along with a dream; he tended to forget them by morning anyway. "So, what do you think of the place?"

Friday

[proudambassador]

The logo was the first thing he saw, and Londo raised an eyebrow. So this was what Mr. Bester dreamed about? "How utterly boring," he said. The white, the plainness... there was no elegance to this simplicity. There wasn't even efficiency to it, from what he could tell. It was a waste. A waste of space, a waste of white, a waste of dreams.

He began walking down the hallway, stopping to snort as he watched a video presentation. "Oh, yes, this is the place everyone should send their children, hm? Only Earthers could do such a thing to their own people. Why do we listen to them, again?" He had no idea. And in the end, it didn't really matter. What mattered was his own people. Londo continued onward, hoping for something of interest. A dancing girl would be nice, alcohol would be nicer.

Friday

[equivocal_means]

Another visitor. Not that people rummaging in his head was exactly foreign to him, but generally they were invited, occasionally they were trying to kill him, but always they were telepaths.

Whatever powers this world had, or gave people, he wanted to know how it worked. Giving mundanes the ability to go into someone else's mind? It wasn't something they'd ever been able to do, not reliably, not to any useful extent.

"Ambassador," Bester spoke up behind him, "if you wanted a tour, you should've asked."

Friday

[proudambassador]

Londo chuckled, turning. What was it Garibaldi had said about Bester managing to get behind people at the worst possible moment? At least he had not been doing anything he was ashamed of. "Mr. Bester, if I wanted a tour, it would not be of your mind. I would like to see the inner workings of someone who has more curves then you, hm? But, if you are offering, since I am here, tour guide away, my good man, tour guide away."

He clasped his hands behind his back, watching, amused. He was here, there wasn't anything he could do about it. "If there is someplace to get a drink on this tour, I would like to stop there soon."

Friday

[equivocal_means]

Bester smiled at the Centauri's response. "You should feel more grateful. People outside the Corps usually don't get to see the inside of it."

He gestured politely with one hand for Londo to follow, before starting down another one of the hallways. "As for drinks, I think that can be arranged. After all, if it's my mind, I should know where I keep things."

[sly_and_proud]

Draco walks through the hallways, wondering where he is.

The white, almost sterile decoration is obviously muggle, but the words written all over the place, remind him of the Dark Lord's ways. Obey your Master, he used to say.

And the quiet, it was unnerving.

One thing was sure, he did not like this place.

[equivocal_means]

The boy's footsteps were the loudest sound in the place, an almost jarring contrast to the emptiness - though any outside presence would've felt like a break from the monotony, from the control.

At a junction between hallways Bester stood, calling out in an affable tone to Draco as he approached, "Something I can do for you?"

[sly_and_proud]

He eyed the man carefully, slowing his steps. He didn't recognize him. However, he somehow fit within these white walls.

Draco straightened to his full height, nose pointed up. "Yes. You can tell me what is this place."

[equivocal_means]

Bester smiled at him, more polite than actively friendly.

"This place? My mind, I assume, though as for how you got in, I'm as puzzled as you." He looked around, as though making sure of his surroundings. "Strange that mundanes could make it in here."