Participants:
Scene Title | Very Sick |
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Synopsis | The progression of the viral procedure Mortimer is undergoing reveals a long buried personality, one that has a request of Bella. |
Date | June 16, 2010 |
Mortimer's clean room.
It's around 8PM, and it's hard to say which of the personalities are dominant in the past hour Bella has been watching Mortimer. In his white sterile clothing, he has two black markers in each hand, writing complex designs on the walls. These aren't blueprints, the hands are quite literally drawing parts from the ground up into machines. "I told you to get from my side! How many things do I have to send over there?" he asks as he turns his to the left, then the head turns to the right, revealing a partially mercurial eye and a wide smile like Jack's. "I have more experience with building!" They've been as sick as dogs all day, but for the last hour or so they've had a temporary clarity, at least a little. There's clearly something strange happening both as the result of fever and their ability.
A marker is tossed to the side as both eyes seem to swirl with that mercury color, like something trying to turn him into a metallic statue from under his eyes. He doesn't smile, or even seem to be Mortimer's usually calm self, he simply stares at Bella through the glass as if he were looking right through her. He starts to write on the glass. Is this how it is, outside of the mind? Is this what they call… the real world?
It's strange indeed, and his current mannerisms don't seem to match either Mortimer or Jack.
'Under observation' means cameras. It means constant watchful vigilance during this, the most delicate and precarious part of Dr. Sheridan's experiment. The first sign of unintended infection, the first indication that the clean room has been in any way sullied, and there will be only so much time in which to act before considerable systemic damage is done to Mortimer Jack.
It also means Bella has been able to watch this strange theatre of a mind unravelling. It means she can see the schematics as they unfurl on the walls. And it means she has hope - from what she knows of his ability, these are signs that it is returning. She is somewhat both giddy and grim. She's not superstitious, but she doesn't want to get her hopes up. A total ability restoration is a great deal to wish for, and one that doesn't also kill the patient in the process, well…
She had to see for herself, mediated only by the clear barrier of plastic that keeps Mortimer's defenseless anatomy safe and sound. She announces her presence only with a small wave, not wanting to take his mind off of the scrawling upon the walls, just in case doing so might cause some interruption of the process - as she's insisted, time and time again, there seems to be some psychological component to manifestation and, therefore, quite possibly for remanifestation.
But when the message is scrawled upon the barrier, she doesn't wish to remain silent. This is an address to her. It must be. She switches on the intercom.
"As far as I can tell," Bella answers, amicably, "Who might you be?"
He writes, as if he's still working out the functions of speech. Alex. One of the mercurial eyes drains to a normal color again, but the left goes completely silvery. The left hand grabs the marker, continuing to scroll things. You're Bella. I'm sick.
"I feel like hell!" yells the tone of Jack at the same time the message is scrolled, suggesting some very strange psychological things going on at the moment, as Jack doesn't even seem to notice the messages.
"A pleasure to meet you, Alex," Bella says, her hands clasped behind her back, her white lab coat swept out behind her like folded wings. I mean, if you're into that kind of imagery. "I am. And you are. But it seems also as if you're getting better. Where have you been all this time, Alex?"
This couldn't be better. An aspect of Mortimer's psyche coming free, and that appears well formed. Bella's curiosity and ambition are both gratified.
Hokuto, is what he writes as an answer to that, his expression impossible to read due to Jack continuing to complain and freak out. It's like automatic writing, except she clearly knows that the writing isn't some ghostly presence. Watched you from inside. Want to work with. Can't take over. Very sick.
Bella stares at the name 'Hokuto', takes mental note of the unfamiliar name. She takes a moment before answering. This feels… delicate. "Alex," she says, "I'd like to work with you as well, but I hope that won't cause trouble with your mental cohabitants. Could you tell me about this Hokuto, and what they did to you? Perhaps I can help, given more information to work with."
I'm whole. Merged to save Hokuto. She died. I failed. I'm both. But clearly that claim isn't true, considering Jack's pressed his head against the glass, possibly getting tired of standing up in his feverish state. But the hand keeps going, even if the writing gets a little messier. The dreams ended. I went deep. They didn't know. I'm stronger.
They're going to need to scour this window, aren't there? They'll need a better system unless Alex develops vocal capabilities. Bella answers calmly, simply, "I'm afraid, Alex, you're going to have to be more specific. But I understand, your condition may not allow for it just now. But I'd like you to explain your situation more fully when we have the chance. Until then, is there anything you need right now? Anything I can do for you?"
Two analog radios. Box of old parts. "I want pills damnit!" Jack yells, tossing the marker aside finally, then falls to the floor holding his stomach, rolling around as he groans in pain. "You stupid bitch! You didn't say it'd hurt like this!"
"Why do you want those?" Bella inquires, "I'm sorry to have to ask, but I do operate under oversight." Jack's outburst is taken with tolerance. Suffering as he's suffering, his anger is understandably. "If you'd like painkillers, I can provide some basic compounds, something that might also reduce your fever. There is only so much I can do, though, Jack. Your immune system can't reasonably take any further suppression. That fever is a sign that your body has enough to fight with to stay alive at all."
Clearly Alex can't answer, maybe he's even gone, since now it's just Jack complaining. Maybe he lost whatever duel they were having earlier and Mortimer doesn't have to deal with the pain. "When is it over? I just want this to be over!" He lays flat on his back, arms spread, groaning in exhaustion.
"Projections suggest about two more days," Bella says, the steadiness of her voice indicating the truth - it will be over when it's over. "That writing on the wall, it looks promising. Does it feel like your ability is coming back to you?"
"That depends." Jack answers with a wide smile on his face, one eye still silvery. The eyes haven't changed in a good few minutes, and he's not budging from his spot now. "Were those fish floating around in here before I came, or after?"
"My guess would be after," Bella replies, returning the smile though not to equivalent scale, "If not, the people responsible for keeping the clean room clean have a lot to answer for."
"Then it's coming back! Because my true sight, I've got it!" Jack sounds excited until the pain hits again, and he goes back to his rolling around, sliding under some covers to curl up. "I'm going to sleep, I just want this to be over…"
"It will be, soon," Bella says, suppressing a huge smile - success, she can smell it! "Stick it out, Jack. You're a badass gang leader. Don't tell me you can't handle a little discomfort…"
"I'm the messiah of the new world that'll be less than three dimensions!" Jack blurts out, until he finally just falls asleep, laying there looking far more helpless than a killer with a grab bag of mental disorders should.