It's been a while since Tom has made his presence known to Schreber. He's been too busy watching the man and his strange family to actually bother talking to him. He's been trying to figure out who the weird guy with the bad skin is, or why none of them seem to leave the house for very far or long. The girlfriend, she actually drives to the city
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So, there really was a war. "The war I remember... but did I really fight in it?"
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Of course, this man has a nice little house and a pretty girl and a way out of the city. His sympathy evaporates like steam.
"But you have a PINpoint now. Who else does? Does your girlfriend have one?"
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He kind of is everybody's lackey but that's because he puts himself in that position. He's comfortable there, it's less responsibility.
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Still, talking about his girlfriend is clearly making Schreber nervous. He tones it down a little. "Okay. I think I'd like one. It'd be nice to get out of the city, to clear my head."
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Schreber just winces and takes a minute to say anything. "Me and... everyone I know. I just don't want you to ex...pect getting out of the city to solve... all your problems. What you carry in here," He taps his head, "Will follow you. I thought I wanted to es...cape once, more then anything else." He wants to say more but stops himself there. "But it is good to see other... places. There's... a history to the city I haven't ex...plained yet, though."
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"Okay, I'm listening," Tom finally replies.
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Schreber takes a drink of his lemonade and a breath and closes his eyes. "The city is... independant, sort of a satellite. It's... there's nothing outside the walls you want to see. We were... all transported here from somewhere else, the place you remember or some...thing like it. Even with the PINpoints I haven't been... able to find where we came from." His hands go into his lap and play with loose threads and the pleat of his pants. "We were brought here as experimen...tal subjects."
((This is a bad moment but I am so sleepy...))
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((haha, go take a nap. Work is killing me, anyway.))
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"Something... like that, yes." Kind of really exactly like that but it sounds so silly. "I called Them the Strangers, but there isn't much I can tell... you about Them really. Not where They came from or..." He rubs the scars beside his eye and takes another deeper breath. "They had ways of extract...ing memories, mixing them around..."
(( |)zzzz No don't be killed!))
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"What were they? Aliens?" They sound almost like demons, the way Schreber describes them. "So... our memories, they really belong to other people?" He shakes his head, looking pained. "What does that mean for my memories?"
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"They... came from somewhere else, so technically..." It still sounds goofy. They weren't goofy at all of course but he's not sure he wants to explain Them in too much detail right now. "People here. It... means that what you remember is... inaccurate. There's still a chance some of those mem...ories are yours, but, ah... the odds are better that they're not. It's pieces of memory from oth...er people all mixed and matched to make up a life..."
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