Room 507, Thursday morning
Nadia had spent a sleepless night on her laptop, digging through every system that her limited Argentine government access could get her into, and managing to hack sideways into a handful of others, searching for how this M person had managed to get the information on Roberto Fox that was included in the letter she’d received. What she’d dug up, she supposed she’d ought to have expected, somehow, but, really, over the months her time in Argentina that summer had seemed more and more like a dream, a year that had never existed.
Except that it had, and here was proof of it, sort of.
A roster of the current enrollees in Roberto Fox’s government training program.
With her name and details on it.
Because it wasn’t so much that it had happened, more that it was still happening. Right now, as she sat on the floor of her room, Furrball attacking her toes, she was also there, in Buenos Aires, teasing Cesar in the sparring ring and getting bitched out by Roberto.
In a few months, as she slept with Walter, she’d be there, sleeping with Roberto.
And this summer, while she . . . did whatever it was she was going to do this summer, she’d be there, shooting Roberto in the chest.
In July, 2007.
It was mind-boggling. Quite literally, in fact. She felt a bit as though her brain was rattling about in big, wide open spaces of her skull as she looked at her name on that roster. How could someone be in two places at the same time?
Could she warn herself?
It didn’t bear thinking about.
Finally, she shut the laptop and stared down at Furrball, instead.
Furrball stared carelessly back.
“I’ve got a lot of questions for Professor M, I think, Furrball.”
“Mew,” said the cat.
[ooc: mostly just establishing, though the post could most certainly be considered open before Nadia actually goes to find M]
Except that it had, and here was proof of it, sort of.
A roster of the current enrollees in Roberto Fox’s government training program.
With her name and details on it.
Because it wasn’t so much that it had happened, more that it was still happening. Right now, as she sat on the floor of her room, Furrball attacking her toes, she was also there, in Buenos Aires, teasing Cesar in the sparring ring and getting bitched out by Roberto.
In a few months, as she slept with Walter, she’d be there, sleeping with Roberto.
And this summer, while she . . . did whatever it was she was going to do this summer, she’d be there, shooting Roberto in the chest.
In July, 2007.
It was mind-boggling. Quite literally, in fact. She felt a bit as though her brain was rattling about in big, wide open spaces of her skull as she looked at her name on that roster. How could someone be in two places at the same time?
Could she warn herself?
It didn’t bear thinking about.
Finally, she shut the laptop and stared down at Furrball, instead.
Furrball stared carelessly back.
“I’ve got a lot of questions for Professor M, I think, Furrball.”
“Mew,” said the cat.
[ooc: mostly just establishing, though the post could most certainly be considered open before Nadia actually goes to find M]