ablankpage | Voxophone 1/?? - Voice - backdated to July 7th

Voxophone 1/?? - Voice - backdated to July 7th

I find myself alone.

[The voice comes over the Journals clearly. It is a lilting, British voice, very calm but very intent.]

I do not know, ultimately, whether the experiment was a success or a failure, but I can be sure of one thing: It is over. Were the sacrifices warranted? I may never know.

[He's taken the Journal to be a voxophone recorder. Something private where he can record his thoughts and experiments to be reviewed by solely himself at a later date. The Guide was easy enough to find, and he has processed the information easily enough.

Another dimension, another place. Not quite what he is used to, coming without his clothes and with wings on his back. Still, it is another set of constants and variables to him.

The most disturbing fact is the first statement. The thing he could not help but note. He is alone. For the first time, he can look to his left without seeing Rosalind there. For the first time in nearly twenty years, a single Lutece is present.

Present... in the middle of a field, so far as he can see. One well into summer, warmed by the sun. Rosalind wouldn't like it -- especially if she were in a similar state of undress. Certainly, that needs to be remedied. All of it goes through his mind as he continues speaking.]

His fate is set in stone, but what of the others? I fear I will never be granted that knowledge.

[And that worries him more than anything. In his attempts to change the world around him, he knows he has destroyed at least as many lives as he has saved. Worst of all, there is no one to tell him whether he did the right thing or not.]

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It should be, yes. But we may want to go there directly. I certainly don't have anything at home to put you in. [She smiles apologetically.] I should have thought to at least bring a coat. But when I arrived I was in a dress. I thought you would at least have a, um...

[Shirt.]

They don't seem overly concerned with propriety, that's for certain.

[And he is not happy about that.

Then, carelessly, he half turns his head, just glancing again to his left. Because he can see the amused smile of the missing woman.]

Really, given my preference, I'd have taken my clothes and the nosebleeds rather than this.

["Really? You didn't shut up for days about those before."]

Considering the alternative? Yes.

[...No, he really doesn't realise he's basically talking to himself. Sometimes he does! And tries not to do it. But then he forgets again. It's all too natural.]

[To anyone else, that behavior might have seemed ludicrous and an indication Robert was unhinged. To Elizabeth it was something to feel sympathy over. Not that Elizabeth had ever been close to someone they way Robert and Rosalind seemed close. They spoke almost as though they were one person, one voice in two bodies.]

[Being here without her must have been disorienting. Elizabeth moves to Robert's right side and puts her hand onto his elbow. Clearly she's waiting for him to escort her.] They aren't concerned with a lot of things. It isn't because they don't like us in particular.

[The touch very much solidifies to Robert that there isn't anyone else there. It's just him and Elizabeth. Rosalind... is only in his head. He'll forget that in an hour, fall back into the casual conversations he's used to in the interim space. During the hours where there was nothing to do but wait and watch and hope.

But for now. There is a young woman to distract him. A young woman he has always been particularly keen to get know. Truly get to know.]

It seems born more out of regret than malice. And easy enough to right.

[Except for the wings. The appendages themselves? He might forgive. But the colour. What on Earth was he going to match to that?

No. They'd have to be hidden away.]

Well then. [Improper as he looks at present, he can still act the gentleman. He puts his other hand over Elizabeth's lightly and nods with his head the way she seemed to have been coming.] This way, then?

...More bold claims.

Yes, this way. [Elizabeth smiles and walks, leading Robert back the way she came from.]

I suppose I might have given you a certain impression of this place by saying it was an enclosure for experimental subjects. It is that, but it's better than... [She stalls for a moment and rethinks how to phrase it.] ...than the situation some specimens--subjects, find themselves in. There have been a few strange occurrences, but nothing violent.

Still. It can hardly be a welcome thing.

[To go from so near freedom to a different cage. Even if it seemed a little more solidly gilded than the last.]

I'm very interested to hear everything about it. The people [particularly those Elizabeth spent her time with, but he wouldn't make that a direct inquiry], these experiments. I have... [well, she's heard Rosalind's voxophones, along with DeWitt] adapted to a different world before, but I find having a brilliant guide is the best way to do it.

[And he means the compliment. Elizabeth may not be Rosalind, not in personality or intelligence, but she is brilliant. Her opinions are invaluable.]

When you sever all possible alternatives, only one is left, and it must be taken.

Oh, well, I don't know everything. I've only read the guide at the back and lived here for two months. [She smiles apologetically, trying to steer them away from areas of heavy brush or rocks.]

The people are, for the most part, very kind and helpful. And accepting of things. Some things I didn't even know existed. There are people from Japan here! And someone is teaching me to fly a spaceship! If I could say there's something good about being here, it's that I've met people I otherwise never would have encountered.

Sounds like you're still talking about choice. Free will. Erasing cause and severing alternatives -- manufacturing one fate isn't the same as only having one fate.

Existence or . . . non-?

[Jack stops himself before he can get too deeply entangled into the hypothesizing, shaking his head.]

Nh, nevermind. I should probably warm up to talking with geniuses. Over tea sometime, maybe?

It does sound like an eclectic mix, certainly. [The sort of mix, given what he'd heard, to be able to work with if he could. To resume and restart all the work he'd done before and after he'd met Rosalind.

To rediscover the Lutece Field.

Now that he knew it was there -- it was a certainty, not a possibility -- finding his way back would be dramatically less difficult then finding his way there. The unknown variables in this world were troublesome, but they could be sorted out.]

It seems... Not quite tangential but rather like a wave through worlds, rather than parallel, as we'd seen before. [The "we" comes rather than "I." He's still barely an individual, still more a segmented whole.]

An absence of choice, actually. Having only one fate because every other has been, as an associate put it, "smothered in the crib."

Presumably--

[But the discussion on theory is cut short. An offer of tea. Or, rather, a placation to not go into detail on the subject at present.

It is something Robert can accept.]

Of course.

I don't know anything about your previous experiment, but by arriving here you've sort of become part of a new one.

[He doesn't really look at the journal more than necessary to reply, so he misses the unusual picture.]

Have I? Intriguing.

["Possibly dangerous."]

What isn't?

["A fair point. Nothing ventured--"]

--Nothing gained.

Much obliged.

[Jack has the impression that even for the people who've been here years, the particulars of arrival and theoretical departure are things they can debate for days on end. He isn't sure he's qualified to go into it cold, let alone with a man who's figured out dimension-hopping for himself.]

I'm Jack, by the way. Jack Holden. Nice to meet you.

But even smothered, it still existed. Once.

Since the first of May. [ And quickly, since she realizes he probably doesn't have a frame of reference... ] It's July seventh right now.

So a little over two months so far. Not very long.

[ It seems like longer and shorter all at once. Perhaps because every day she wakes up and knows she wasn't meant to have this: more time. ]

Not long at all.

If it is not too personal a question, may I inquire as to the nature of your arrival?

It did, certainly. But it does no longer, and, as it was removed before it could be begun, it is not remembered as an option.

A pleasure, Mister Holden. My name is Robert Lutece.

I don't mind, but...what do you mean? Where I showed up?

That was in the woods.

Where and how, yes. I'm rather curious as to whether or not there is any pattern to these arrivals.

No? Not remembered? Not even a little bit?

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Voxophone 1/?? - Voice - backdated to July 7th

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"regret" should be "neglect," I'm a genius

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[Action] oh that makes more sense. 8D ilu~

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