Mark stands facing the camera, deliberately filming himself. It isn't something he's terribly comfortable with, but he's guessed that he's more approachable this way than as a disembodied voice on the radio. There's a world map tacked to his wall, a box of pins and a ball of yarn at the ready on his desk. He clears his throat and begins, a little
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He runs to the closet to fetch a more specific map, and, consulting it, sticks a pin in the proper area.
"What year?"
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He shakes his head.
"If my friend Phil could meet you..."
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"And when did the Mansion take you from? What year?"
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He's heard 2009 and 2010 casually tossed around quite a bit--he just hadn't officially noted it yet.
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Busily pinning and noting the date.
"Have we spoken before?"
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California, San Francisco, '69. 'Round the same time as you, I guess.
I can't pinpoint the street name or nothin', I was drunk.
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And two pins go on the map for Benny, as well as a length of yarn connecting San Francisco and Rapture.
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And up goes another length of yarn back from Rapture to New York City.
"Even without the whole business of Rapture, we were taken from the same year. The same month, even."
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