A swirling fragment of mad dreams chases you down a bathtub drain, and out into a Disneyland filled with Roswell Grays who beckon you to safety where you can lay down in the back row of one of the country music shows on a line of wooden chairs.

And then you realize that the dream is ended, and it actually does feel like you are laying across some chair seats.

"And now my friends, fellow voyagers into the unknown, we will speak with the dead! Quiet please, Eustace, back of hall, if you would. Check that out."  Some click-clacking shoes are coming toward you, sounding as if they are on a wooden floor, and the voice of the man is a good distance away.

PT

Kate awakes with a start.  She was dead.  Dead people don't wake up and they definitely don't wake up sprawled over theater seating.

She could still feel the tears in her eyes when she finally accepted that she was dead and now...

She rolled slightly, trying to get a fix on her location as well as who was coming towards her.  She rolled off the seats hitting the floor with a heavy 'thud'.

Hitting the floor hurt.

'I'm dead... falling shouldn't hurt.. .I'm...

She looked up and gave a wan smile to the approaching woman.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:45, Thu 20 Oct 2005.

The old wooden folding chairs you fell off from, and the arc lights near the ceiling frame the approaching woman.  She's tall with an erect posture, thin to the point of being rawboned, and well-dressed in a conservative and antique style.

Her dress comes down to mid-calf, and her high-heeled boot shoes are latched up the front.  Her hair is bound up in a bon, and small spectacles cover her sharp eyes.

Her disaproving frown changes to wonder, fear, and then cautious interest.  She crouches to be on your level, even as your shoulder starts to throb from where it smacked the oaken tongue and groove floor.

"I'm Professor Eustace Montgomery, Professor of History. And you are?"

When you don't immediately respond because her quick eyes are cataloguing everything about you in rapid precision that is not at all slowed down by politeness, she begins to speak again in what could be a language, as spoken by someone who was juggling razor blades with their tongue.  It sounds painful to the ear, and to her throat.

PT

Kate sits up, rubbing her shoulder and wincing.  It's hard to tell if its because of the fall or the language.

She focuses on the woman.  "Professor... "

She blinks again, trying to get up.  "I am Kate...

Standing slowly she offers the woman her hand.  "Sorry for the interuption but... where am I?"

"Miss Kate, pleasure to meet you.  You are in Boston, and on Earth.  We were holding a seance', or my associate, noted phrenologist and student of the occult, Mr. Mark Wintham was."

She points up to a stage where a tailcoated gent with a handlebar mustache is leading four others through a seance' for a watching crowd of perhaps thirty.  The hall could hold perhaps four hundred.

There are no "Exit" signs glowing over the doors, and the general feel is of being in a museum of early Americana.

PT

Kate blinked at the woman as she tried to get her bearings.  "I am so sorry to have... interupted"

Her voice was soft as she looked around.  "I... I think I fell... I" she ran a hand through her hair.

"I should be going... " She blurted out suddenly.  She started to move towards the back of the hall, then paused.  "how do I... get out?"

She wants to say something, to try to find a way to stop you, but she holds her tongue, and a man, short, with a slab-sided face, and a well-broken nose, and a pistol slung on his hip which is not concealed by his tailcoat comes up, and leads you outside in perfect silence.

You see the street is paved with cobblestones, and a black Model T is running down the street while nearby a couple girls in short skirts and short hair give you the silent lookover as if to check out the competition.

The first words that comes to mind is "Flappers." when you see them.  Both are smoking away.

There are no streetlamps on this street, except at the intersection, and those come from short metal poles hung with lanterns.  It doesn't look like the worst, but neither does it teh best, neighbourhood.

PT

Kate walked in a daze, allowing herself to be ushered out of the building.  The reality of what had happened was fighting with everything she knew and understood.

She was dead.  She was here.  Falling hurt.

Those three thoughts and her surroundings made it clear that what the 'Gray Prince' had told her was true-- or that she had just gone further down the rabit hole.

Even as she tried to think her way through this, one thought surfaced that put it all in perspective.  'Why the 20's'

If this were of her own choosing or the results of her subconsicous, it would have been almost anything else.

She looked around suddenly very selfconcious about the way she was dressed.  Her dark trousers and light, now dirty top, did not match anything she'd seen.

She looked left then right and moved down the street slightly.

Out of curiosity she tried to 'feel' that odd pull that had led her to her things before.

You wander down the street, following the feeling, and around a corner to get on a better direction to it.  And there you see it, sitting alone in the street.  You rush up and grab it.  Happily everything seems intact.

This street is a little nicer than the previous one, and there are several Model T's, and one larger car trundling down the road.  You get out of the roadway, and are standing near the gutter as the pleasantly cool night air wafts against your face.

PT

Kate let her breath out slowly as she looked around.  Model T's, Flappers... Definitely not something she would have immagined.

'That leaves the whole 'verser' theory...'

'I need to know what's going on here-- and what passes for money'

Then she thought about the woman in the hall.  'She knew something....'

Shouldering her pack she began moving with purpose.  'Learn my way around, keep an eye out for the woman'

You wander about in the area.  Soon you understand the simple cross-grid, and you've got a line on how to get to downtown, and the harbour, and a road to the south (you see a sign that says...Florida Keys with a direction and a mileage posted on the small metal sign.)  An all night eatery, a policeman (a tough looking fellow with a big mustache and a bigger stick), and a scrap of newspaper.  You also note a number of well-dressed guys and girls entering a low basement stair case which looks distinctly unwelcoming.  Even out on the sidewalk, you can hear the jazz.  And the doorman looks up at you.

"Sir, uh, I mean Miss, you want a drink?  Best bathtub gin in Boston right here at Will's Watering Hole. Guaranteed not to have any turpentine in it, whatsoever."

One homeless guy asks you if you have a penny or two you could spare.

And then walking back over your course, you see four people, one of them the professor entering the all-night eatery, the Winslow Eatery.

PT

When she found the scrap of newpaper, Kate read everything on it, hoping for clues as to what was going on.  She knew her mode of dress was 'odd' by most standards, but it didn't seem to stand out too badly.

Except for being called 'Sir'.

Kate smiled at the offer of 'Bathtub Gin.'  "Maybe later", she said.  "I'm hoping to catch up with an old friend."

When asked for money she gave the man an applogetic smile.  She didn't really have any money here either.

She continued to work on her mental map of the area until she saw the professor.  Kate paced herself so that she would cross in front of the window, hopefully after they'd been seated.

She walked in front of the window looking in, trying to catch the professor's eye as she did so.

The paper talks of disturbances in Europe in the wake of the war reparations bill being presented to Germany by France and Britain.  President Calvin Coolidge, of America, is noncommittal, but thought to disaprove of the bill collection efforts.

There's news about Prohibition and arrests.  And there's news that the Boston Bay Basher, "a murderous fiend lacking in human compassion" has been arrested.

That, plus adds is all that was on your sheet. One add catches your eye, it says that Model T's are again being price cut.

You catch the professor's eye after a long moment of watching her in animated conversation.  She looks elsewhere, and her eyes slide across you, and then suddenly like a bolt of lightning snap back to you.

She's hurrying out of the restauraunt without another word.

She comes up to you more slowly, as if afraid to startle you.

"Please join us, Miss Kate.  We were about to get the after-show special. I'm sure we could find another plate for you."

You allow her to draw you in, and you can see that she's trying to control her excitement.

Upon entering the brightly lit establishment, a pause spreads as everyone looks at you, and then activity resumes.

The Professor click-clacks her way over to the other three in her group.  A florid faced man with a handlebar mustache, the pistoleer with the silent face, and a young girl, perhaps fifteen, who smiles oddly.

Kate had been hoping to speak to the professor privately, but now... now she was in a restaurant with several strangers, dressed as a typical student... of her world with no money to her name.

Her world.

She closed her eyes breifly realizing that things were never going to be the same.  She forced herself to smile, but remained quiet hoping to figure out as much as she could without revealing what little she actually knew.

She nodded to the others and gave them all an appologetic smile.  "I'm sorry about earlier I was... startled."

The man with the mustache introduces himself.

"Mr. Mark Wintham. You'll pardon us, I hope, but we were discussing your very interesting situation when you arrived."  He then waves over the waitress, gets a table for everyone, and a large pot of Hungarian goulash is brought out for the table with plates for everyone.  He then brings a small wallet out of his jacket and pays the waitress who then brings glasses of milk for everyone.

"Simple, filling fare."  He says with a broad grin.

"And cheap." The pistlero says shortly.  Everyone laughs.

The young girl looks at you.

"I think I shall call you Clock Dancer." And you revise her age downward to perhaps twelve from her manner which is on the far side of weird.

"My colleagues are interested in the same things I am.  Perhaps we can be of mutual assitance."  The Professor says kindly filling your plate to the brim, and then putting it firmly down in front of you.

PT

Kate pauses, puzzled by the 'clock dancer' comment, then focuses on the others.

"My... situation? she asked in a combination of innocence and wanting to know more.  "What situation would that be?"

She looks the plate, with a rather wide eyed expression.  Normally that much would be too much, but suddenly she realized just how hungry she was.  Still she waited for the others to eat.

"Please... tell me more"

"You ah, dress so strangely, your, ah, accent..." Now they look embarrassed. "We didn't see the doors open."  Wintham shrugs.  "We just assumed that you were something out of the ordinary."

Everyone looks at each other rather uncomfortably.

"We look into odd events to find the truth of them." The Professor says calmly.  "Forgive us, but we thought you seemed to be one of them."

And then they begin to talk of ordinary items in an obvious effort to change the topic.

PT

Kate smiles at them and then nods slowly.  "I'm sorry, but I'm still becoming accustomed to ... " she pauses trying to find the right words.

"My situation"

She looks at them, forcing herself to lower her defences.  "I... I really would like some help in... figuring this whole thing out "

"Well then, let us introduce ourselves, and talk while we eat. I am Mark Wintham, Phrenologist, Stage Magician, Hypnotist."  The man with the handlebar mustache says expansively, waving his hands.

"James Hubert Hickok. No doubt you've heard of my grandfather."  The pistolero says in what seems a high country accent.  He then goes back to spooning in food while his hard eyes study you.

"Professor Eustace Montgomery, New York City College.  First woman history professor there. and she is.."

The young girl interrupts.

"I am the wind between the worlds, Clock Dancer, although they call me Cecily and they made up Smith as my last name.  You are the needle and thread of God, holding it all together."  She smiles at you.  The others shrug.

"We found her in a circus. They weren't feeding her much because she goes into these 'things' more often when she's hungry. So Mr. Hickok had a 'discussion' with the circus owner. And we've sorta adopted her."  The Professor says.

"Now you know us. The Society for the Study of the Unusual, Chapterhouse Four.  Tell us about you."

PT

Kate nodds as each one introduced themselves.

When Mr. Hickok introduces himself she tilts her head slightly, but allows the others to finish introducing themselves.

She gives a slightly bitter chuckle as she begins.  "I'm am Katherine MacIntosh-Smythe. I grew up in Singapore, though my family comes from other parts.  Truth be told I have spent most of my life trying to be... wholely unremarkable...and completely normal."

She looks at them all sitting there and bites her lip.  "And I failed...I... was a student, trying to avoid military conscription... There is always the threat of war there-- and I knew the military life was not for me..."

She sighs, realizing that she is telling them more than she ever admitted, even to herself.

"To avoid military conscription I volunteered for an experiement... "

She looks away, trying to gather her thoughts and then turns back to them.  "I died... twice now I think-- but the first time, it happened so fast and.."

She looks at them, knowing how insane it all sounds.  "This is all very new to me"

You've left them befuddled a bit.  They are conversing amongst each other.

"Died?" "Twice?" "Conscription, but she's  a woman?"

The Professor waves her arms soothingly.

"Peace my friends, we know from our studies, and from the occasional witness that the other dimensions are not pleasant places as humans would understand them.  Full of what we would call unspeakable barbarities. And oddments that make not sense to us.  Now I grant you forcing a woman to make war is a new one."  The Professor says.  "But still, is it any worse than the creatures Mr. Hickok met? And I wonder, but I have read one book of a man who claimed to have died many times.  Perhaps when I get back to New York, but my memory is not good now."

They turn back to you eager for the rest of the story.

PT

Kate was surprised by their comments, and shrugged.

"I... I woke up in a very strange place-- I think I was indeed the last living being in that world.

The tone of her voice was very sad.  "I read the inscriptions others had placed on a wall... a memorial for those who had passed through the area, but.. "

She shook her head.

"I didn't believe half of what I read-- it was to... fanciful."

After a pause she continued.  "I thought-- knew... I'd died in the lab, but I thought... I thought I was still clinging to the memory of being alive, like all those ghost stories where a person dies, but doesn't realize it so they haunt the place where they died... "

"And now-- here I am... "
This message was lightly edited by the player at 03:40, Mon 24 Oct 2005.

"Sometimes..." Mr. Hickok pauses, and sets down his half-finished glass of milk on the checkered oilcoth covered table while absentmindedly brushing milk drops off his upper lip.  "Sometimes after you've walked through the gates of the uncanny, the downright unnatural, you do not feel right, not alive.  And if you thought you died, if you died, I can surely see why you would not feel that way. But you look alive to me. You eat, you drink, you move your chair. And I have it on the best authority that means you're not a ghost."  He pauses, and then smiling shuts up, aware that he's said more than he usually spouts in a whole day.  What he says about not feeling right, that sounds like personal experience.

"So we can rule out ghost. " Mark Wintham says, leaning back in his seat.  "What other things could she be? She has her own body I'd say so that rules out a spirit animating another's corpse, and she doesn't seem under control and dazed like that Voodoun lady had."  He is replete with his two plates of goulash, and yet as his body slows, his mind revs up.  You can see it in the way his eyes sparkle.

  He pulls out a small cigar, and expertly spins it through his fingers, up and over each, and then balances it on the tip of his pinkie before putting it near his mouth, and asking if he has your permission to smoke.

"You mind?"

PT

"No, not a ghost."

She agrees, thinking about what he and the others have said.  "But neither am I home."

She realizes how much better she feels having people to talk to about all of this-- whether they entirely believed her or not.

"But this is the world I am in," she says softly.  "And therefore the world I must... accept"

She nods to Mr. Wintham, both agreeing with what he has said and thanking him for the courtesy.

"But, the gates of the uncanny... that is a term I hve not heard... the ones I read... she shakes her head.  "Am I Kate dreaming I have lost my reality, or the reality that is finding Kate in the dreaming?"

"Kate, we believe there are many realities, some laying on top of others, and some barely connected but by the thinnest of strands.  But the gates of the uncanny are different for every man.  For me, it was a warm library, and I was reading yet another account of strange happenings, and laughing at it.  Because I was a Scientist.  A Professional Historian.  But then I wondered. Why am I laughing? On what basis do I decide that all but the most mechanical and statistical is irrelevant and non-existent?  I began to look, and I could find no floor to stand on, and so I fell into the gates, and my world has expanded so that now I truly believe Christ rose, but I also believe that there is something malignant that wanders the New Jersey Barrens, and eats dogs and small children.  It was a more comfortable world I had back then, but I prefer the truth whatever it may be.

Mr. Hickok was wandering the Appalachians, and he came across some things with red eyes and shiny faces.  They took him, and cut off his fingers on his left hand, and reattached another man's fingers to his.  The other man, they put our friend's fingers to his skull, and he died with an expression of gaping horror on his face.  That was Mr. Hickok's gate of the uncanny."

Mr. Hickok put his left hand on the table, and you can clearly see his fingers are not his own.

"But I had my grandfather's pistol, blessed by Crazy Horse, and they feared it.  Not for the bullets so much, as for the symbol on its side.  And I was able to escape.  Took me two weeks as I ran naked through the wastelands with my pistol before I found another person."

He looks down, and for a long time you can see that the experience has never left him.

"Scuse me."  He gets up from teh table, and walks outside.

PT

Kate listens and nods slowly.  She finds it oddly comforting that there are people to talk to about what has happened.

She was comforted and scared at the same time.  She was starting to deal with the possibility of going from reality to reality-- learning growing... but now she realized that what happened to her would stay with her... like Hickok's hand.

When he left she looked at the others for a moment then followed him outside.

"Sir?" she asked tentatively.

He looks at you with fear and long pain in his eyes while an index finger strokes out a carved design on the butt of his pistol.  You and he are standing under the eaves of the diner, just outside the door.

"Sorry for being rude ma'am.  Its just I keep seeing those eyes.  Someday, I hope to see them again. And this time, I'll not run."  He says it softly, but with great and terrible emphases like an oath.

PT

Kate shakes her head.  "You weren't rude, not in the least... and please... its just Kate... "

She gives him a grim smile.  "I'm sorry for intruding... I.. just wanted to let you know that you aren't alone... and that I'm sorry about what happened... and thinking.. "

She sighs.  "And thinking I'm the only one with problems..."

He nods his thanks, and you both head back in.

The group seems easier when you both come back, and with the calmness in Mr. Hickok's face.

"Kate, we've got a room with friends.  You're welcome to stay with us tonight.  We would like to help you, and investigate your situation.  We leave for New York City tomorrow, if you want to come." The Professor says.

"Of course, if you want to stay with your relatives, we would understand..."  Mr. Mark Wintham says, and you see that he does not really mean it, but that he is offering you a face-saving way to decline, and if you accept making it seem not so much like charity.  The Professor nods and flickers a smile as if grateful for someone more skilled at social niceties than her had covered up for her directness.

PT

Kate gives him a shy smile and nods.  "I would be grateful," she says softly, trying to think of how she could pull her own weight.

Then she smiles and reaches into her backpack and pulls out her journal.  "My journal... I copied down what others had written... maybe it will help..."

Sitting there she realizes how much she had missed human contact.

You walk, arm in arm with the Professor and Cecily, and the two men, while everyone relives highlights from this recent show, and previous ones.  It seems they also do some shows and speeches to raise money.

The laughter and love of the small group soothes your spirit, even as you sense deep grief in the group.  But they do not talk of it, and your stroll down the cobblestone streets, in a zig-zag path about a mile in length takes you to a house where a sleepy maid lets you in, and gets everyone quickly settled in one of two rooms.

Once in the small bedroom with the Professor and Cecily, you realize your need for human contact is going to be definitely met.  Its three to a bed tonight.  No doubt the men have similiar accomodations down the second story hall, but then they only have two to a bed.

PT

It is very odd for Kate, to be sharing a bed with others.  The only time she had shared a bed with anyone had been her parents when she was a child and the storms would scare her.  Then she would rest between them, safe and secure.

She watches the others as they prepare for bed, learning how they do things and comparing it to how she does.  She pulls out a pair of sweats and puts them on.  Then pulls out a plastic comb and runs it through her hair.

She pulls the picutre of her parents out of her pack and stares at it for a long time, before kissing her fingers and placing them on the images.  Then she smiles at the others, a little self conciously.

They both strip off their outer garments and that leaves something that would pass for a modest nightgown.  Then they kneel on opposite sides of the bed, and make their nightly prayers.

They pray for family and friends, and both pray for someone named Saul, with what sounds like deep sadness.

"Please that you will take our friend, Saul into your house, please that he will find the peace he lacked here."  They wash their faces in a washbasin, and then they clamber in, with Cecily getting the middle.

You follow them into bed, and just before you nod off you hear Cecily whisper in her odd voice, so full of weirdling tones and utter surety.

"Your folk are still alive somewhere.  Just not here."

PT

Kate says her prayers in a combination of Chinese and Malay, and her prayers themselves are a combination of Buddhist and Christian.  In Chinese, she adds their friend to her prayers as well, and asks for protection and guidence for them as well as herself.

As she drifts off and hear's Cecily's proclamation, she turns, tears in her eyes and gives the girl a gentle heartfelt hug.

"Thank you" she whispers.

Finally she falls asleep, tears still shining on her face.

The next morning you wake, and everyone is already gone to breakfast.  Once you get down you see that the group is fully dressed and is just finishing up their final packing.  Everyone is bright and cheery, and there is much promises of coming back soon for another visit to the local householder.

You get a cup of coffee, and a slice of fresh bread with butter for breakfast.  Even in your stupor, you notice its the best bread you've had in at least a year.

Going outside with the herd, you see a Model T, the back end loaded up in a great mound, strapped down by a makeshift net of white cord.  Once esconsced in the back seat, the two next to you play a quiet guessing game at how long it will take Mark Wintham to give up.

He keeps on jerking the front crank to start the motor until he is red in the face, and then he allows James Hickok to jerk the crank.  Two tries later, and the engine starts up.

"You got it warmed up."  Hickok says unconvincingly as a flustered Wintham clambers into the driver's seat.  And you're off at a speed of nearly thirty miles per hour, heading for New York City.

PT

Kate was startled when she woke and found herself alone, but the others weren't hard to find.  Part of her was afraid, afraid that it was all a dream and she was either back at the monument, or alone.

She focused on learning as much about the world around her as she could.  The date, the equipment.

The mode of travel is painfully slow, and yet oddly relieving.  There is so much to learn.  Slowly she pulls out her journal and hands it to Ustus.

The date is April the 24th, 1922 Anno Domini.  The car is a Model T.  Its black--as Henry Ford said--You can have it in any color you want, as long as its black. The loaded hill tied to the back contains leather sided suitcases, twenty pounds of potatoes, several large five gallon jugs, a similiar number of one gallon pottery jugs, props for a stage magician, a rifle, a shotgun, a toolchest, and an empty bird cage.

You are just north of Boston on a moderate spring day, still very early in the morning as they set out shortly after dawn, when you discover the purpose of the jugs.  The big jugs contain gasoline, and make up for the lack of frequent gas stations.  One gets emptied into the car after the Model T is pulled to the side of the gravel road.  One of the smaller ones gets passed around to everyone (except Cecily who takes it as a personal affront.) as they commence driving.  Its moonshine.

PT

Kate spent most of her time trying to remember what she could from history as she knows it.  When they made their first stop she was startled by the sudden burning sensation she got from the water, realing too late that it was not water.

She laughed as she coughed most of it back up then shook her head.  "I'm sorry... " she appologized still laughing.

"Maybe I should stick to water..."

They nag you a bit to keep on trying some, just small sips they say, and you'll get used to it.

The trip continues, and after two more hours, you suffer a flat tire.  The men get out, and begin patching it.  It takes about half an hour, and they are obviously used to doing it as they move with the ease of long practise.  Cracking jokes, and talking about a baseball game they both have bets placed on thats coming up the next weekend while keeping their hands moving.

Professor Eustace begins to question you as to your theories about what you've read.  She's pretty sure she's heard the term 'verser' before, but she's not sure in what context.

PT

While Kate refrains from drinking, she is more than interested in talking with the professor.

"What I read-- it matches what you said-- about multiple worlds... universes.  I read a warning it talked about traveling using technology or magic or... "

Her shoulders sagged,  "Being infected by something called... scriff... "

She thought back to the experiment at the lab.  "The experiment I volunteered for... it involved something called 'scriff' to be injected."

She looked back at the professor.  "I think that is my ... doorway as you called it... "

"If its true-- then this is my second world... "

"Third you could say.  Your home--the place where they wanted to put you in the military.  This planet with a wall.  And here and now."  The Professor corrects pedantically.

"It seems obvious that if you die here, you're going to another world.  And it may well be that you are immortal as in not aging.  What you tell me of the years of study of this Baron and She Who is Gold.  Well that is a lot of years in school.  They should be dead of old age.

Since you're going to probably end up visiting and living in other worlds, I think you should learn as much about them as possible.  And some survival skills for a woman alone would be handy too."

Mr. Hickok leans back over the intervening seat.

"Best possible survival skill for a woman, begging your pardon Professor.  Teach her how to shoot a pistol.  Or a shotgun."

PT

"Third world"Kate repeats with a nod.

"And they death being ... the catalyst? for ending up else sounds right."

"In their credentials the Baron and She who is gold said they taught for 10 years and then were killed as is custom... "

Kate nods in agreement with the observation about survival and learning.  On the bright side, she realizes she has achieved her goal of being a perpetual student and says as much.

She looks at Hickok and gives him a wan smile.  "I was starting to accept that the worst that could happen is I die and move on... but..."  She takes a deep breath.  "There are worse things than dying... I would like to learn.  Thank you."

Later, there is a lunch break.  The picnic basket is brought out.  Pork chops, sourdough biscuits, and salted potatoes with warm tea or moonshine for drinks, and angelfood cake for dessert is the meal.

Here spread out on a blanket, with a full stomach, and watching a stream of ants crawling down the side of an apple tree, you feel like you can forget the recent madness for a while.  Until, they get out their guns.

The Professor shows you the benefit of being ladylike and wearing a full dress.  You can hide a pistol in its folds, if you hold the pistol,and the folds in your hand.

Mr. Wintham lends you a single-shot derringer, and shows you how to charge it.

"Terrible accuracy. Best to jam it into whoever's stomach, and pull the trigger.  I won't lie to you.  It will feel like you broke your hand, but it won't.  And your assailant, after taking a .40 will be even less happy."

And then Mr. Hickok asks if you prefer to learn pistol or shotgun.

PT

Kate listen as the others give her advice and nods. She understands about the skirt, but she is so used to her pants, and the freedom they give her.  "In my world, in addition to being a student, I was a gymnast... a tumbler," she explains.  "I don't think I could do any of that in a full proper dress... but then again tumbling wouldn't be considered proper would it?"

When Mr. Hickok asks her which she'd rather, she tries to remember what little she's had in firearms training, and then gave up. "Which would you recommend? She asks.

Then gives him an appolgetic smile. "I'm afraid I've spent most of my life avoiding needing to know either"

"A shotgun will be easier to learn, but you can't carry it everywhere.  A pistol is more versatile in and out of combat, but it lacks the raw stopping power of a shotgun.  Shotgun's also got more kick to it.

How strong are you?  There's some girls I would never give a shotgun too, unless it had a real light load.  But I think most ladies could handle one.

Ideally, you end up learning how to use both."

He throws the question back at you, giving you a little more information to help you make up your mind.

"We can get her started on chopping wood behind the boardinghouse.  Build her strength up." Cecily says, biting her lip.  The others laugh.  Its the first normal thing you've heard Cecily say.

PT

Kate laughs as well then looks at Hickok.  "I am stronger than I look," she answers.

She tilts her head, an impish smile on her face as she pauses for a moment and then with another laugh begins a tumbling run from one of her competition routines.

She feels, as she always does when she's doing this-- that is the closest thing to flying a human being can achieve on their own.  She performs the return run and lands laughing.

She looks at Hickok.  "That felt so good... she says and then returns to the subject at hand.  "Let's try the shotgun-- see if I can handle it... and if I can't we can switch to the pistol?"

They ask you to do it again, and once thats done, there is a number of significant glances between the members of the group, and then Mr. Wintham speaks.

"Miss Kate, most of us do some small part in our shows which we do occasionally for money since sometimes investigating the paranormal doesn't pay as well as one would like.  Cecily divines, I run a seance' and do some card tricks, Mr. Hickok target shoots, and the Professor plays 'Stump the Perfesser with a Historical Question.'  How would you feel about demonstrating this talent on stage? Now you don't have to. We won't force you to, but if you could it would help."

PT

Kate's smile brightens.  She has been very uncomfortable 'sponging' off of these people and they have offered her a chance to not only help pull her weight, but to do it doing something she's done since she was a child.

"I'd be delighted!

Unable to express herself any other way, she performs another series of flips.

They arrange a few more details, and then realizing that time is passing, Mr. Hickok defers the target practise for another time, and everyone bundles in to the Model T again.

Later, it rains.  You and the others find a barn to wait out the storm in.  A couple hours pass with no sign of the farmer, and the cows seem content with your company, and the hay expresses no detectable opinion.

PT

With nothing better to do, Kate sits down across from  the Professor.  "Ma'am... could you teach me how a 'proper' young lady should act here?"

"Well, that is a question and a half.  Hmm, the simplest answer is for me to lend you my sister's copy of Ettiquette by Emily Post.  Just came out, and its already a best seller.

You seem to be already aware that the essence of manners is a good and thougtful heart.  But you desire awareness of the particular ways we show it. La, what a thing.  A suffragette teaching one how to be proper."

She begins to go over the varied rules with the help of the others who serve as stage actors.  You introduce the younger to the elder, and the untitled to the professional, and then reverse the introduction.

The man walks on the outside of the sidewalk so as to be splashed by the passing automobile, and protect his physically weaker female companion.

One who smokes always asks permission unless they are outside, or of long standing notice that its okay, and if not they may "repair to the smoking room" if the place is elegant enough for that.

PT

Kate paused and nodded.  "What is the main religion here? "

She paused and shook her head.  "I'm sorry there are so many things that I only remember vaguely from my world's 20's... And its hard believing that... I'm not ...

"I grew up in Singapore, In the orient.  My father moved there a very long time ago... I was born there, so ... I got a very different view of American History... "

They confirm that they are all Christians of a Protestant sort.  Mr. Hickok is a Presbyterian, although he's also attended Baptist churches. Professor Eustace Montgomery is an Episcopalian.  Mr. Wintham is a Lutheran.  Cecily mostly goes with the Professor, so she's somewhat more tilted Episcopalian.

"History. She calls us history."  Mr. Wintham says with a laugh.

"And indeed we are.  That is one thing the ancients had over us, they knew they were making history as they lived."  The Professor says.

"I don't know, ma'am.  Seems to me the cowboys thought on such things too." Mr. Hickok says soft and slow.

PT

"Back home most people are Buddhists... actually less than ten percent are
Christian... and a very small percent of that are Catholic... I think some of the Buddhist rubbed off on me... "

She shrugs, then listens to the comments about 'history'.

Kate blushes slightly.  "I'm sorry... I didn't mean it like that... its just that-- for me..."

She shakes her head, then looks at them for a moment.  "The ancients?"

"The ancient world, the Greeks, the Romans, the Egyptians, and even the not so ancient, the Vikings.  They knew they were part of an epic story, and they thought to themselves how that tale would look after they had completed it.  We do this to a degree, I supposed, but we also think of ourselves as the very latest, the end of history, instead of realizing we are just part of a very large story, and that when the final call comes for us, the story will keep on going."

The Professor explains her viewpoint.

OOC: I'm not sure the P.'s view is accurate, although I could say it was, for this world.  Also, I'm curious, how much do you know of Buddhism.  Seeing as one of the rules of Multiverser is that every story is true somewhere, then that means in at least one universe (actually many more) the Creation Story of Buddhism is correct.  However, I haven't written anything in that regard, but I would be curious to see if I could come up with something.

Kate thinks about this and nods.  "It makes sense... the more we know of the universe...universes... " she corrects herself.

"Sometimes I we were much better in our 1920's than we are now... "

She pauses and then looks at the professor.  "I mean... we've learned too much-- grown to jaded... our cars run so fast we forget to look around us... is that really progress?"

She sighs, fighting to think of the implication this has on religion and belief.  She knows she's not ready for that.


[OOC: I don't know much myself, but I have a friend who at least studied Buddhism.  I can find out more if you'd like.  ]

The rain lets up after another ten minutes, and the men push the car out of the barn, and into the sparkling day.  You get another twenty miles down the road before another flat.

A passing car stops, and the owner offers you a ride into town to a hotel.  So the car is pushed off to the side, and everyone repairs to the hotel for the night.

Once in town, everyone else is planning to bath, dress-up, and go out for a night of dancing and musical acts at the local speakeasies.  They intend to take Cecily with them, although they won't allow her to drink.

PT

Kate looks at them. "I... "

She pauses trying to word her next statement.  "I've never been 'clubbing at hime', she explained.  "I don't even know what to wear... do you... would I... Am I dressed all right?

She looks at herself in the mirror. She's dressed more like the men than the ladies...

She tries not to be nervous.. but its hard.

The two women offer you choices of their suitcases after they pick out what they are wearing.  Neither is really right.  Cecily's is short, and the Professor's two non-party outfits are serious, halfway down the calf, work dresses.

However, the Professor says that she could modify one of her dresses.  With a look of determination, she gets out her needle, and threads it immediately without looking at it, and then a pair of scissors.

Startled, you realize she means to take the next hour, and with a needle and thread, resew a dress.  Definitely not the year 2005...

PT

Kate gasps and puts a restraining hand on the professor's arm.  "No.. please.. that is yours.. and if you cut it... its changed forever..."

She is touched by the gesture but doesn't want the professor to lose one of her dresses forever.

She smiles at the professor and looks at the threaded needle.  "You.. .actually ... hand-sew?"

"Kate, relax, please.  Its only a dress.  And you can buy me some more fabric when you get some money.  Indeed, I started sewing when I was six years old. You mean, you can't sew? If so, you must be the only female in America who can say that."

She pats you on the shoulder, and then she takes a second look.

"Is it that your world is gone, and now you can't bear to change any other thing?"

"The immortal lose everything but their life."  Cecily suddenly says, talking to a trite painting of a three-masted ship on the wall.

PT

Kate gives them a wan smile.  "I hadn't really thought of it that way, but maybe... Its just.. that's your and you worked hard for it.. you shouldn't give up your dress so I can wear it.. "

"And no.. I don't hand sew.. except to mend a seam... we have machines for sewing... and mostly we just buy our clothes at the store... "

She smiles at Cecily.  Sometimes she really makes sense.

"Alright then. Its not a big deal to me, but if it is to you, unless you want to change your mind?" She pauses.  "Otherwise, we have these two dresses you could use, and of course your pants, although I don't recomend it unless you have a thick skin."

She leans back, and waits on your decision.

PT

Kate looks at her.  "Pants are that... unfashionable? she asked.  Then takes a deep breath.

"May I borrow this one?" She asks indicating the one the professor was about to cut.

"It would seem, I indeed have a lot to learn... "

"Well, its okay for daily wear, although a bit odd.  For going out, and partying, not so much.  Definitely not for going to church."  She pauses and thinks.  Then she gets up.

"Also, well, I was never the girl to pull this off, but if you have the ah, 'style', the look, you know, some women can wear anything, and the boys will accept it because its them.  Its not just looks either, but also personality. Well, that was never me, but I knew a few girls like that."

PT

Kate smiles and nods.  "They are what I'm most comfortable in, " she admits.

It takes her some time to get moving in the skirt.  She pracitces sitting down and getting up properly and then smiles.

"Thank you!"

Once you are all dressed, and lipsticked, and fragranced, the three of you come down to recieve the flattery of the local males.  Mr. Hickok hardly says anything, but simply smiles in obvious appreciation.  Mr. Wintham, on the other hand, has a talent for a clever compliment which he exercises liberally.

By the time, you three walk out to the car, you're half-convinced you're Cleopatra, and you feel like your feet aren't quite touching the ground.

A short trip, and you arrive at Poncho's.  You walk into the restauraunt, which is only a quarter full, and then "go back to talk to the cook about your order".

A quick step through the kitchen, filled with steam, and a secret door slides aside.

Inside, jazz music is playing, smoke fills the air, and loud laughter from the brightly dressed patrons welcomes you.  In the center, a dance area is set up, and on a stage, the only black man in the room, not in a waiter's costume is making a cello do some mighty strange things...

PT

Kate is amazed by the whole setup and the music only makes it better.  She likes the idea of a hidden world, but also knows that, at least in her world, that Jazz will not remain hidden.

She follows the others' lead and watches the dancers, knowing she could never dance like that.

This is not her world, but she could learn to love it.

You stand at the edge of the dance floor, clapping and swaying with the rest of the watchers. A quartet to your right are discussing, back and forth, the theories of Sigmund Freud.  One guy is scoffing, and another claims to be a pschyologist, a lady wants to know if he really thinks the Id is behind everything, and the fourth just listens.

To your right, a couple are discussing seeing Babe Ruth hit a home run.

The air is filled with smoke, and the tinkling of glasses.  A glass finds its way into your hand.

"Hello, old-fashioned girl." A man in a suit jacket with sharply raked lapels, a yellow bow tie, shiny wingtip shoes, and slicked back hair says as one dance ends.  "My friends over there,"  He points to a table where two grinning guys are nursing whiskey.  "They think you won't dance, but I bet them you would.  So if you want to help me win some money...?"  He holds out a hand, palm-up.

"And now ladies, and gents, and all the rest of you.  The Parisian Redheads!"  The loud announcers voice booms out, as the Jazz cellist ends, and retires, and a crowd of twelve female redheads stroll onto the stage.

pt

Kate laughs and smiles at him.  "Its not that I won't dance," she explained.  "Its more that I... don't know how... "

Relizing that it sounds like she's blowing him off she tilts her head slightly.  "Did their bet specify that I had to do it...well?"

"Not at all."  And he leads you out onto the floor as three tenor and three sophrano backed up by six violinists break into song.  The music is infectious, and while you're still not getting the hang of it, by the end of the second dance, someone is tapping your partner on the shoulder and saying...

"Mind if I cut in?"

This fellow is dressed in a white suit, and a Panama hat, and a very thin mustache.  He gives you a hopeful look, and ...

PT

Kate smiles at the man she'd been dancing with to see if what he said since all of this was indeed quite new to her.

"Its custom to dance once with anyone who 'cuts in' unless you can't stand them, or are engaged." Your first partner says a bit glumly over the noise of the band.  He gives the new guy an irritated look, and the new guy looks just a trifle smug.

You start dancing with Mr. Panama Hat, and its fun, even if you still aren't catching on.  Partially, its because they keep changing to a different dance, every song.

A second dance with another guy who cuts in, and Mr. PH is very polite to the soft-footed hulk who taps his shoulder.  The big, blonde Swede with the undifferentiated massive muscles of a farmer, and a less fancy dress, who then treats you as if you were made of glass, and he was afraid to break you, and you finally get somewhat in tune with the dance, perhaps because he goes deliberately slowly.

But  by then, you've done four dances, and are 'ah' perspiring, and needing a break to catch your breath a bit.

PT

Kate looks for the others and sits down, making sure this time that what she thinks is water actually is.  As she drinks she watches how the others dance trying to get a better idea of what whe was trying to achieve.

She also listens to the conversations around her.  As she does she realizes that she didn't mean 'how do you act properly, but how do you ... fit in.'

She smiles at Cecily and asks how she's doing, and finaly when her breath is caught, she looks around, hoping to see the young man who first asked her to dance.

Richard Makepeace is strolling slowly up to you, and when you turn to look you see him, and  a grin spreads slightly across your lips.  He takes that as a signal to come up to you, and sit down next to your chair after making sure thats okay with you.

"So, old-fashioned girl, you enjoying the big city?  I live here, I'm a newspaper reporter, and its a wild and crazy place, but I love it."

He grins with a kind of frenetic energy that is another sign you're not in Singapore 2005. Although he does remind you of some of the stock traders from then.  Hustle and bustle, a quick wit, and a quick smile, or just as quick a turn away.

PT

Tonight, Kate is enjoying the night life and the experience, so Mr. Makepeace is just what she needs.

She blushes slightly and tilts her head away from him slightly in a shy gesture.  "I'm afraid all of this is rather new to me... I'm just passing through with my friends..."

She tells him.  "And my name is Kate... "

"Well Kate-just-passing-through maybe you can pass through again? And for now, we can dance the night away?"  He holds out another hand, and sweeps you on to the dance floor to teach you the Charleston.

Soon you've got it, and that makes the turkey trot, and the Charleston that are in your repertoire.  Its exciting, and glamorous, and you feel like the night is forever.

The Parisian Redheads have been replaced by George Moon and the Sundown Band, and the music soars and dances itself off the ceiling, or so it seems.  Bubbly good humor fills the crowd tonight, and you join in.

Later, Mr. Wintham tells you in one break that they are leaving, but he knows Makepeace, and if you like the reporter can take you back to the hotel.  Its nearly midnight.

PT

Kate smiles and lets Makepeace know that the others are heading home and that she has had a wonderful time, but she should really be turning in with them.

She starts to ask for his e-mail address and corrects herself asking for his postal address instead.

You stagger off to bed after making your good-byes, and having several gentlemen kiss your hand, and reluctantly file into the car.  You don't remember falling asleep.

The next morning over breakfast you get treated to a rendition of you and Mr. Makepeace dancing by Cecily.  Its filled with you acting like a silly-headed starstruck girl.

"Oh Richard, thats so funny..." Cecily says rolling her eyes, and and simpering as she pretends to dance with a fellow made of air.  "Yes, Richie, so sweet of you to say that..."

The biscuits are fresh, and the coffee hot, and the pork chops nice fried and battered. Most of the others look a little under the weather since they imbibed more than you and Cecily did.

PT

Kate is taken aback by Cecily's rendition of her... unsure if she sould simply laugh it off or take it personally.. and a small part of her wonders if she was really like that.

She watches the others trying to make sense out of it as she quietly eats a buscuit and drinks her coffee.  She also reads the paper tring to find match this world up to her own and figure out what was known in her Earth during the 20s.

There does seem to be something of a match between what you remember, and what you see.  There are a lot of differences though.  You're not sure if those are the results of a different times priorites and hindsight, or genuine differences.

"Silent Cal" the Republican President known for not talking is very well liked.  The stock market is doing well.  There are lots of adds for buying appliances and cars on credit.  There's a lot of what you would call tabloid journalism...focusing on kidnappings, and shocking gruesome crimes, and muckraking...focusing on corruption in business and government.  But on the whole, its a more cheerful and certain newspaper than you are used to.

Progress is on the march, and sweet reason with prevail, and the Kellogg-Bryant Peace Talks will hold off war, and Herr Hitler is not really that bad a guy.

And as you bury yourself into the paper, Cecily sees her teasing is not working, and flops discontentedly into her chair.

"You people are boring."

"My papa would switch you for your disrespect." Mr. Hickok says.  "Just because that Houston boy did not ask you to dance don't mean you get to be a little snip."

Pt

Kate pulls out her journal and notes the information down, comparing it to what she can remember.  Then she looks at the others.   Finally, when she's sure no one else is listening she asks about the peace talks in a low voice.

"What inspired these peace talks?" she asks softly,indicating the newpaper.  "In the 1920's I remember... we were recovering after a world war..."

"There are worries, as I understand about the buildup of the Japanese Navy, but I wouldn't worry. Mankind has learned his lesson, the War to End All Wars was definitely enough."  Mr. Mark Wintham says with hope and enthusiasm.  "With the League of Nations, and men and women of goodwill, peace is here to stay."

"Can't change the nature of a wolf." Mr. Hickok mutters. "Or a coyote."

PT

Kate gives him a very sad stricken look and nods in agreement.  "They were-- and we couldn't get them to change, not in my world."

She thinks of the course of history in her world and shakes her head.  "Men and women of goodwill can be decieved..

"But Kate, you may not have a chance to regret Nagasaki in this world." Cecily suddenly says.  When the others ask her what she means, she looks at them like they are crazy.

"I didn't say anything.  You're just mad because I was making fun, teasing, Miss Kate."  She looks genuinely perplexed.

"Something is coming."  Mr. Hickok says, and the others nod in agreement with a variety of frowns on their faces.

PT

Kate moves closer to Cecily putting a gentle hand on her shoulder.  "Cecily... do you ... see my world or... see it through my eyes?"

Her voice is very soft as she asks.  In Singapore there was a musch stronger memory of WWII - the fall of Fort Singapore; countless British and Austrailian troups along with civilians held as POW's; the treatment they recieved at the Changi Prisoner-of-War Camps.

Nagasaki was bad-- but it was necessary.  Still if they could somehow avoid the whole thing...

"In my world ... it came... and it was... she looks at them, a scared sad look in her eyes.  "It wasn't good."

Cecily just looks at you, and cries.

"I don't remember." She says over and over, as she collapses into your shoulder.  You sit there patting her back, trying to comfort a girl who on some level had seen something awful.

"We could hypnotize her." Mr. Wintham says quietly. "I'm not sure I want to. We may have to."

"I'd like to get home. Look at my books. Soonest." The Professor says.
"And Miss Kate, I think you may want to consider writing the history of the future.  If what you fear is what Cecily has seen, which is uncertain, than we need more information than 'not good'."

"Have a heart Professor, can't you see the girl is shook up."  Mr. Hickok says as the group gets up from the breakfast table, and your concerned hostess at the small hotel comes by, and asks if the food was okay, is everything all right.

PT

Kate looks at Mr Wintham and shakes her head. "No... not on this she says softly.  Cecily doesn't need to remember what Kate has only seen in pictures and movies.

"I will write what happened, " she promises, though she doesn't know where to start, then looks at the Mr Wintham.  "The history is all in here-- as we were taught it... " She said pointing to her head.

"Perhaps... you could hypnotize me... "

As you start crossing New York harbor on the steam driven ferry, and waving at Lady Liberty, you turn and look back at the New Jersey shore.  A small college is in view, Asgard College for the Liberal Arts, and for the vaguest second you felt something familiar there, but then its gone.

Upon crossing the blue harbour, you land and drive down to the Bronx, and to the boarding house where your Society has its rooms.

They are not much.  A bedroom for the men, and one for the women, and a general room for both with a radio, and bookcases, and a table, and Wintham's magic supplies, and a couch with some chairs.

The arc lighting flickers, and the radio plays ragtime, and the company relaxes, glad to have finished the strenuous multiple day trip from Boston to New York.

Mr. Wintham speaks.

"Dear Kate, I will be glad to hypnotize you tommorrow, but for now, I am going to smoke a cigar out on the back porch, and go to bed."  He yawns expansively, and the rest of the road-weary crew stumble off to make their last preparations, and to use the communal bathroom at the end of the hallway.

PT

Kate nods.  "Tomorrow will be fine sir," she says.  She is surprised at how tired she is after such a slow ride.

As she washing up she takes the opportunity to ask the professor about the college.

"Professor-- I saw a college... Her eyes narrow as she tries to remember.  "It was a Liberal Arts College... Asgard I believe... can you tell me anything about it?"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:38, Wed 09 Nov 2005.

The Professor jumps straight up.

"Thats it. Thats it. Now I remember."  She hustles over to a bookcase, and pulls out a worn and battered notebook that looks to be of significant age.

"I got this from a Chinese man, a noted merchant who seeks out such things for me.  He bought it from a junk sailor who had an incredible tale to tell.  About a man who claimed to be a 'verser', and could conjure fish from the sea, and shoot a man dead a mile away.  This man had a number of books, copies he said that he had gotten from friends of his.  And he was lacking funds so he sold one to the sailor.  And eventually the sailor sold it to my merchant friend."

"Here."

The book title reads...

"Early World-travelling by Doulos, who some call Tyr."

Inside is a tale of living through a repressive society, and almost travelling in time, and learning telekinesis, and then arriving at Asgard Community College after a nuclear war clad the sky in ice.  It ends with the tale incomplete as the pages ran out.

PT

"Thank you, Kate says and looses herself in the pages of the book.

She moves to the common room as to not keep the others up and finally falls asleep on the couch... trying to understand the strange pull she felt towards the college.

The closest thing to the strange pull is what you felt on the Last Planet.  A feeling that led you to your own items laying out on the dessert floor.  However, this feels different in kind, and it was only momentary, and very attenuated.

Reading the book you see that this other fellow, who wonders if he is a time traveller (although you recognize his name from the wall of versers) talks of being in the hospital at Asgard Community College in something like the year 2020.  He's not sure of the date.

You dream strange dreams filled with polar bears playing ice hockey while Lady Liberty serves as the referee, and then Liberty turns and looks at you.

"Life and death are in your hands."

You wake shaking, about two o'clock in the morning.  Cecily is staring at you with an unreadable expression from the foot of the couch.  She quickly gets up, and heads back to bed.

PT

Kate shakes her head, unsure where dreaming ended and waking took over.  She watches Cecily leave, wondering how much is a dream and how much-- is Cecily being ... Cecily.

She rubs her arms and realizes where the ice hockey game came from.  She makes a few quick notes in her journal about what she's read and then goes to the women's room and slips in.

Life and deat are in your hands was it Cecily or her dream-- and did Cecily even know?

She scoots into bed sure of only one thing.  She wants to go to Asguard college, and see if there is any trace of that.. flicker she felt in passing.

The next morning at breakfast, the society members are discussing their various plans for the day.  Most involve various efforts to raise money by selling stories to magazines, arranging seances, and such although the Professor is also going to visit the City College and make use of their research facilities, and Mr. Hickok is going to drive to a nearby farm, and practise shooting.

But no one is going near New Jersey and Asgard today.

PT

Kate listens to the others' plans and then makes her decision.

"Mr. Hickok...Would you mind if I came with you?"

He nods, finishes up the last of his coffee, and slips on his suit jacket.  Then he offers you his arm as you both go out to the Model T.  It takes an hour to drop everyone off, and in that time, you get a good view of New York City.

Its energetic, and loud, and a special vibrancy fills the air.  And you see people have a very lax attitude toward the law compared to your Singaporeans.  People not only jaywalk, but you see one guy get into a fistfight with another about a parking space.

However no one bothers you with Mr. Hickok there.  He has a way of casual intimidation, an aura that says "You really should reconsider starting somethign with me. It would not be healthy." in just that tone of polite menace.

And then you get toward the outskirts of the city, and he pulls into a gravel roaded lane, and parks near some other cars under a tree.  In the distance you can hear booms.

Its about ten minutes walk, but you come to a farmhouse, and directly behind it is a bit of cleared pasture between cornfields.  Here about a dozen people, including two women in long dresses, are practising shooting.

PT

Kate takes it all in, the behaviour, the odd social rules, and how they were broken.  She tried not to focus on the differences, but kept reminding herself that she is not home, even more, not her own world.

She watches as the others shoot and waits for Mr. Hickok's instructions.

He proceeds to take you up to a line, and a boy comes by, and takes his order,and soon returns with a clay pigeon tosser, some clay pigeons, and a bag of shotgun shells.

Money is exchanged.  The boy starts flinging the "pigeons" in the air, and Mr. Hickok starts blasting.  After he shoots ten, he hands the gun to you.

"Alright, your turn."

PT

Kate looked at the shotgun a little dubiously.  She'd fired a few weapons before as part of standard school training, but nothing like the shotgun she was now handed.  She listened carefully as Hickok explained to her what she was to do.

She carefully took the stance, and let him position her, listening as he narrated what she should do as he signalled the boy to fire one of the pgeons into the air.

Kate carefully tracked the 'pigeon', leading it slightly, then fired.  She lost track of whether or not she hit her target as the impact knocked her off balance and her attempts to catch herself, and not drop the shotgun resulted in her landing on her butt.

A slight snicker escaped her lips as she handed Hickok the shot gun, and it turned into a rolling laugh as she got up and dusted herself off.

There was a slight silence as the others saw what happened, but Kate's laughter broke it cleanly.  She got up, still laughing and shook her head.

"Lets try that again, she said.

She took the position, this time bending her knees slightly and knowing the force the shotgun would exert.  She didn't hit the second pigeon, but she did manage to not fall down, which she was quick to point out was an accoplishment in itself.

Her good nature seemed to cut through a lot of the tension, and she grew progressively better, finally hitting her last three pigeons before they moved on to the pistol, which was closer to some of the weapons Kate had fired.

She followed the pattern Hickok taught her.  Take a deep breath, aim, squeeze the trigger letting out your breath slowly at the same time.  It was almost meditative.

When Hickok took his turn she watched him, how he stood, how everything else seemed to fade out of existance until it was just him and the target.  It was oddly relaxing.

She also watched the others, learning from what they did and how they acted.

Her second set of practice shots showed marked improvement as she tried to imitate his focus as well as his technique.

Each time she'd finish-- she'd listen to everything he said, good and bad and try and put it into terms she could better understand.  But the end, she felt pleased with her progress.

By noon, the others invite you to join in lunch at the farmhouse.

All told, with the farm family which includes three young men who look almost alike, all pale red hair, and freckles, except for their ages, and the four girls of the family who are much more varied in their looks, and the two servants, housewife, farmer Johnson, a farmhand, and the dozen of the gunners who joined there is a total of twenty-four people sitting down at the checkered cloth table after washing their hands and faces.

Its good in a simple, farm fresh, cooked to perfection kind of way.  Roast beef, green beans, baked potatoes, and candied carrots, with biscuits and made that morning butter.  Apple pie is for dessert.

Everyone takes turns complimenting the housewife who also has a couple servant girls to help her.

Your plate gets filled up, and then once you empty a part of it, others are happy to fill it up again for you. And if you say no, the housewife gets this dreadfully injured look on her face as if you were saying her food is not good.

PT

Realizing this, and not wanting to offend the housewife, she graciously accepts and then slows a little as she eats, carefull spreading the food out across her plate.

She doesn't have to pretend when it comes to the food itself, for she's not used to the foods, and it tastes wonderful.  And on top of that she has never had fresh butter and smiles when she tastes it.

"I have never had butter so fresh, " she says with a slightly awed tone.  "This is truly heavenly, she says softly as she spreads it on a warm biscuit.

She also saves room for the pie

Later that day, you drive back, and pick up everyone.

The Professor is radiant.

"We have an invite to a party hosted by The Esther Standerhouse."

"Of Standerhouse Shipping? The philanthropist?"  Mr. Wintham says with interest.

"The very same." The Professor says, and then looks at you. "Its time to buy some fabric, and learn the art of making a party dress.  When one goes into Society, you have to look your very best." And then she looks at Cecily who is trying to hide behind the seat.  "You too, m'dear. We may even get you to meet some young man more respectable than Taylor Houston."

PT

Kate is dumbfounded.  "But... it will take weeks... if not months to make a dress sewing by hand..."

She backs up slightly.  "Maybe it would be better if I didn't come..."

"Nonsense my dear.  We have two days until the party, plenty of time."  the Professor replies.

OOC: Perhaps I'm wrong here.  My sewing skills are at best pathetic, but I think two skilled sewers who have both made dresses on their own before (indeed most of the professor's clothing was hand-made until recently with technological advances, and store-bought is probably still considered slip-shod quality) with the eager help of one novice could make a couple dresses in around twenty hours.

I invite comment from one and all.  Always a good thing to learn something new.

Kate gives her a rather dubious look, and then realizes that a) she won't be working alone b) she won't be trying to do her classes and everything else c)she really wants the professor to think well of her.


OOC - I honestly don't know since I am such an abysmal sewer.  (and have just bought about 15 patterns for adapting for garb and fencing armor  Because I'm also appauled by the priceses for fencing doublettes.)

I just looked up more information on sewing in general and discovered that the first (successful) sewing machine in the US was made in the 1800s and that by 1905, the electrically powered sewing machine was in wide use.

The first machines did a chain stitch with one thread, and then Elias Howe (I believe) patented one that used thread from two sources (the current thread/bobbin configuration)  I know my grandmother was a seamstress in a factory in the 20s and she took painstaking care when making something.  To the point I didn't dare even try when she was around.

With the light of battle shining in her eyes, the Professor snaps out orders, and sends everyone off to one task or another "and quickly" to fetch this and that.

"You, Kate, hold your arms out. Now stand still."  She takes out a measuring tape, and begins...

PT

Kate does as ordered, unsure of any of this.  This is definitely not going to the mall and picking up something to wear.

She does her best to comply and does know how to hold a position.  She askes about the different measurements and why the Professor is taking them, but remains still

And thus begins a day of intense focus, and whirling activity.  Cecily is very good, and you find yourself impressed with the quick and sure way she stitches, cuts, and uses the sewing machine.  The Professor has you baffled.  She starts one thing, and before you can understand what she is up to, its put down, and she's zipping away at something else.

The men haul, tote, fetch from the store, and go get lunch brought back from a nearby restauraunt, and make other preparations while holding themselves available to help at a moment's notice.

The hours slip by, and you're surprised when Mr. Hickok brings in supper, and puts it on a small table in the common room.

"Everyone needs to eat."  He especially looks at the Professor who stubbornly sets her jaw, and continues to sew with the same breakneck speed as before.  Your arms are weak, and your fingers, you notice are trembling, and you have five new holes in your fingertips, courtesy of needles.

"Kate talk to her." Mr. Hickok orders and leaves the room.  The Professor gives you a quick glare as if daring you to say something while her needle continues to fly.

PT

Kate gives the professor her best 'you know he's right' look before speaking.

She tilts her head.  "Professor-- I need to eat... and I haven't been doing nearly the work you have.  I can only imagine what it is like for you.  Please.  I will enjoy the dress much more if you take a break... otherwise I will only remember the work you did without a break... "

She bites her lip and waits.

(OOC - only 5... that'd be a record for me)

The Professor allows you to draw her to the small table, and to fill up.  Afterwards, she looks and sounds a lot better, and so do the rest.

Five hours later, you're being ushered off to bed with Cecily, and you sleepily note that Esther stays up to do 'just a little more'.

The next morning is more of the same.  The room is full of fabric.  And it looks like you will never get done.  And then Cecily and Esther start laying things together, and within the space of ten minutes you can see how the dresses are supposed to look.

There is a lot more work to do, but now you can see the overall plan.  It was kinda like someone tossing a dozen plates in the air above the table, and having them all land in their proper places, without breaking of course.

You've learned quite a bit about sewing in these two days you realize as they proceed to put everything together.  Another two hours, and you have a dress.  Another hour after that and you have a dress that fits you perfectly in the "most modern, yet lady-like fashion." or so it seems.

But they keep working at it.  Making it 'more perfect'.  And you see that you have about two and a half hours until the party.

PT
OOC: We will raise your sewing skill by @2 for this as you've done several brand new things, and gotten an intensive education.

As she sees the dress emerging from the piles of fabric Kate's understanding and amazement increase.  If she hadn't seen it all for herself... and she had been in on it.

To her, its been perfect for the past hour and yet-- it keeps getting better.  Part of her is worried that all this last minute effort will only make it worse... and the others...

"Please," she said.  "This is more than enough.. and you still have to get ready yourselves...."

Then she turns to them.  "Thank you... its beautiful"

You get washed, dressed, powdered, and head out to cross town in the late evening with your parasol in hand.  Everyone in the car is dressed in their finest.

You pull up to the metal gates of an estate on Long Island, and the snooty guard takes your invitation, and directs you to the 'Carriage Lawn'.  Once parked, and everyone has piled out, the Professor turns to the group.

"Now we've been invited to come.  No explanation, but if you should find a reason before we are called on to entertain, or whatever Mrs. Standerhouse has in mind, then I would be grateful.  And if you can do it without insulting, offending, or Mr. Hickok, threatening to shoot anyone, I'd be extra grateful."

The tinkling sounds of a harp drift down the lawn-covered hill from the huge three-story mansion on the hill overlooking the sea.  Topiaries of fantastic creatures are off to your right, and a hedge maze to your left, and a formal English garden is off to the right of the collossal house, and to the left of it, you can see what must be teh outskirts of the party.

Mr. Wintham bows as a well-dressed man, and a lady stroll by on the huge, but still crowded multiple acre Carriage Lawn.

"Mr. Mayor, Ma'am."

PT

Kate does her best to look comfortable and graceful, but she was not used to dresses in general, let alone one that was so... fine.  And then there were the shoes.

She was used to 'sneakers' or boots... but nothing with heels.  She started to laugh at the comment about Hickok shooting someone then stiffled it, realizing she wasn't sure if it was serious or not.

As they head in pauses and looks at the Professor.  "I could always 'not speak English'" she offered.

There was a mishievous glint in her eyes.  She knows that people will sometimes say more when the people around them don't understand.

The group laughs at your suggestion, and they ask for your suggestions on a cover story to explain your presence.

Once that is decided, you and they hike up hill to the party which is a glittering affair with electrical lights powered by temporary wires on poles.  With a shudder you note that the wires don't have sheathing.  In fact, in a few places, you could just reach up an arm and electrocute yourself.

You get introduced around, and soon everyone is familiar with your story.  A band starts to play some Mozart, and there are clots of people in various groups.  Near the band, near the dance floor which is actually carpet spread over a clay tennis court, down by the dock where a beautiful two-masted ship lounges as if out of place standing still while wishing for the thrill of racing through the open sea, in the two food tents, and over in an outdoor amphitheatre where an elderly woman is sitting down at the front talking with a long line of visitors paying their respects.

A guy comes up alongside of you as you look out toward the darkened ocean.

"Pretty lady, pretty ship. I wish you did understand English. Then I'd write a poem for you. Ah well, it is so true. The rich really are different from us."

PT

Kate turns towards him when he speaks, her eyes narrowing slightly as she 'tries to understand what he's said, and then nodding as if she understood.

"It is such a beautiful night.  It feels as if I could touch the stars from here.  And the way the moonlight dances on the water, reminds me of home. Is it always like this? " she answers in Malay.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:57, Tue 15 Nov 2005.

He looks over at you, and then pulls out a cigar, waves it at you to see if you respond, and then lights it.  Pulling in a puff, he points out across the grassy lawn to the outdoor amphitorium.

"There sits a woman, a lady of advanced years, who could buy and sell a hundred writers like me.  Not that I complain for Esther has always been good to me.  Its just she draws in people, I even help her sometimes.  Told her of some clairvoyants and other such charlatans for a project of personal redemption that interested the old meddler. Any ways, Esther draws in people, and some of the people are not so nice, or so wise, and they play games that might not be good."

He gestures with his cigar to your left where you see an attractive and vivacious woman who looks vaguely familiar even though you're sure you've never seen her before, and two men are paying court.

"My darling Zelda. Barely married a year to her.  I shouldn't come to these parties. Expose her to traps and temptations she is ill-equipped to resist. If I was a man, I wouldn't, but then how do you refuse Esther?

And so instead, I flirt with a girl who can't understand me.  Aagh."

He throws his cigar down on the ground, and stamps it out into the manicured lawn.

PT

"How can you smoke that thing, doesn't it make you sick?" she asks in Malay.  Then shrugs.  "At least it should keep the bugs away"

She looks at him following his gestures and fighting not to ask for clarification.  She smiles at him nodding like she understands with the exact expression people have when they are being polite and don't understand a word that is being said.

Kate jumps slightly when he exclaims and stomps out the cigar.

"Was there a bug on it?  A big ugly bug?  the cigar probably drew it then-- yes much better to put it out."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:49, Wed 16 Nov 2005.

He bows, and strides away.  Later you hear some people speculating on how their stocks are doing, and another group talking about Senator Wintermane getting drunk, and someone saying as they pass you that they think they saw Winfred the Magician here and wondering if Mrs. Standerhouse was going to have a magic show.  As you wander down to the amphitheatre, you hear two women, I shan't call them ladies, who start talking about you.

They know your cover story about not understanding English, and so they comment on your clothing in a very unkind manner.

You see the Professor talking to Mrs. Standerhouse, and the Professor waves you down to join them.

PT
OOC: And for bonus points who is the guy who talked to you? Anyone can guess, and I admit I'm doing this off the top of my pointy head so I could be wrong.

Kate listens to people's conversations always with that slightly 'off' smile that says 'I don't understand a word you're saying'

When the women speak about her clothes, she follows their gaze, incorrectly to a woman beind her.  'Yes, yes she is quite pretty, she says, again in Malay.  She has an impossibly big smile on her face and her nods are almost a bow.

She is quite relieved when she sees the professor waving.

"I wish you many blessings, commiserate to your heart, she says gently.

Then she moves down to join the professor.  She walks carefully, yet gracefully.  It is not too unlike working the balance beam.


OOC - F. Scott Fitzgerald?
This message was last edited by the player at 19:54, Wed 16 Nov 2005.

The two women look at you with annoyed expressions on their faces since you've managed to twist what they say around without apparently understanding it.  You sway down to the Professor and Esther Standerhouse, and find the rather shorter Mark Wintham down there as well.  Aware that at least a hundred people are probably watching you, you bow to the old woman sitting on the almost throne on the stage.

Her clothing is elegant, terribly expensive, and draped with enough pearls to make a rope to the Statue of Liberty from the Empire State Building.  Her fingers flash with some of the biggest diamonds you've ever seen, in or outside of a museum.  Impeccably coiffed, and with a pair of dark eyes sharply penetrating, and in command.

Americans don't have queens, but this lady is the closest thing in the land.

"What a lovely girl.  You say she does not speak English?"

Mrs. Standerhouse then tries out a couple languages on you.  Dutch, Arab, and then Mandarin Chinese.

PT

Kate smiles to herself as she walks away.  She knows she's probably made a few enemies, but she is too aware of the work that the professor and Cecily had put into her dress.

She smiles and bows to their hostess, knowing that all too many eyes are on her.  She bites her lip as the woman tries to converse with her, until she speaks Mandarin.

Though her own accent is not perfect, and most of what she speaks she has picked up from her friends in school, she speaks enough Mandarin that she can at least exchange pleasantries with their hostess.

Her eyes light up with a smile.

"Honored lady, your home is indeed wonderous.  Thank you for your hospitatlity"

You exchange a few words with her, and enjoy the moment before she ushers you three in closer.  She has you stand directly in front of her.

"More than a couple of people drop tips to the Times on what I say.  A few lipreaders out there."  She clears her throat a bit uncomfortably, and then gestures for some water.  A nurse appears and hands it to her.

"Well, I have a friend.  Miss Charity Lanton of Lanton Mills, you know the company.  She's been having some difficulties, and while I don't like to meddle..."  Here her eyes gleam, and you realize she's lying boldly..."I do wonder if some of your friends might be able to do me a small favor, and look into this."

"Problems?" Mr. Wintham prompts.

"Odd dreams.  Keeps talking about a brother when she knows she hasn't got one.  But I don't want this getting around.  So if you could say talk to my Mr. Blakely, he would be able to give you, ah, directions."

Its clear that the old lady wants that to be the end.  The other two quickly huddle with you, and whisper to each other.

PT

Kate is quite impressed by her command of the language, and she enjoys being able to exchange pleasantries.  When the conversation returns to the matter at hand, she allows herself to be used as a 'screen' and the others to take over.

Once they are 'dismissed' she bows respectfully to their hostess, and allows the others to move her along.

When she is sure no one can hear her, she tells them what she heard the flirting poet say.

Mr. Mark Wintham laughs, and the Professor sighs.

"Oh, the poor man.  He's quite the famous writer. Yes, he's right. We were brought here to check us out, and see if we could look into this problem for Mrs. Standerhouse.  All things considered, I say we do it."

Mr. Wintham nods.

"Are you up for a trip up the Hudson River, Miss Kate?"

A rather stern and official looking man is approaching you three as you climb out of the amphitorium. His scalp is bald down the center, and his clothing severe and formal. In the midst of party-goers, he looks like he is 'on duty'.

PT

Kate smiles and answers with a slight bow.  "If you are going, I am going," she says.

After a pause she looks at Mr Wintham and the Professor, her eyes narrowing slightly.  "What is today's date?"

"April the 29th, 1922. In the Year of Our Lord."  The Professor says formally.

"Almost the 30th in a few more hours." Mr. Wintham adds with a frown.  "Whats bothering you, Kate?"

PT

Kate gives him a slightly confused and frustrated look.  "It just... sometimes it doesn't parse... make sense.  It was 2005 for me... and people here were talking about stocks... and... "  She shakes her head in frustration.

"There's so much I don't remember from my own history and .. I'm trying to reconcile it to yours and... it doesn't does it?"

She finally just shakes her head, and goes back to 'not speaking English' when the man arrives.

"What you think we barter, or rub sticks together to make fire?  We have had the telegraph for ages, conquered diseases, and in our great enlightenment made a war that slaughtered millions. We are very modern."  Mr. Wintham smiles at you.

"Think, how many of my students would know anything of the 1860's other than the Civil War, Mr. Wintham, it is a far date from our time for her." The Professor says.

The man in formal coat comes up to you after another few minutes, and bows very briefly, and with gimlet eye conducts a politely savage negotiation for the funds necessary to do the job.  And then at one point, Mr. Wintham shrugs his shoulders,and declines the job because of a dispute over expenses.

"You simply must understand. In our field, expenses may be little or they may be vast. Sometimes we have to get scientific equipment and chemicals quickly."

"I will discuss this with the accountant."  The butler, Mr. Jenkins says stiffly, and not without anger before he leaves.

PT

Kate listens to the negociations, analyzing what is said, and what is not said.  When the buttler leaves and she is sure they can't be heard, she looks at them.

"I'm sorry-- I didn't meant to sound like you were primative... for me its as much a case of... I'm from Singapore.  The history we are taught.. it is colored by time, distance and culture... The only things I remember was... "

She pauses.  "I think... I think it is this year that Southern Ireland will become Ireland, an independant country, though Northern Ireland will remain part of the United Kingdom.... and...the 1920's ended with a huge stock market crash... but.. "

She shakes her head.  "I don't remember... I really don't... and it's frustrating... I should know these things... "

She watches them.  These are her friends and the last thing she wants to do is insult them.

They laugh, Wintham was mostly just giving you a hard time.  But he is interested in anything you have to say about this Great Stock Market Crash, and when exactly it occurs, and if any crashes occur before then.  You can see the plans for making big bucks springing to life in his rosy-cheeked face.

The accountant comes, and counts out the money you requested, and agrees to your terms.  You make a note of how Wintham bargainned up your team's price, never lying, but by every word getting the group's value more and more profound.

You evidently are someone 'With an absolutely unique perspective, gifts that might be called prophecy...' and so on.

pt

Kate knew she could learn quite a bit from these people, and she knew she enjoyed their company.  Part of her was still fighting the urge to simple accept them as her friends and family, but that part was becoming less and less.

Failing to accept what had happened to her, would not change the fact that it had, and this was the life she now had.

Kate answers the questions she can and is quick to remind them that these things wouldn't necessarily come to pass... or even pass at the same time and dates she knew.

Still-- they deserved to know what happened in her world.  Who knows-- maybe they would be able to prevent it.

"In my time, there were enough weapons available to destroy the world... many times over."  She gave them a very sober look.

"I do not wish to see that happen here."

Mr. Wintham looks back at you.

"That seems fantastic.  But then Cecily seemed to feel that you had the power to stop this. Or something."

They shrug, take in your information on the stock market, and gather up the rest for the trip back home.  It seems that Mr. Hickok got in a fight with two bodyguards after a drunken senator insulted a lady in his presence, and he tried to correct the senator.

He looks roughed up, but in a quiet way satisfied.

"I believe I told you about shooting people, Mr. Hickok."  The Professor says.

"I didn't draw leather, ma'am." Mr. Hickok replies with wounded innocence.

PT

"I don't know how," Kate admits.  "I'm not even sure if it can or... should be... unless we can prevent the ... whole thing from happening..."

She pauses and then tells them of the second world war... what she remembers, and this is from a very Malaysian view point.  The fall of Fort Malay, the death marches, the prisoner camps, the experimentation the Japanese did on the Chinese, the comfort girls... how America tried to help without getting involved until they were given no choice.  And the horrors they found...

'Was there a way to keep it all from happening?'  She wonders.

When they meet up with Hickok she smiles and laughs slightly at his comment.  Then she impulsively hugs him.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:33, Mon 21 Nov 2005.

"You're encouraging him, Kate."  The Professor tries to reprove you, but she's having to bite her lip, and her eyes are sparkling.

That night they toss over a few plans for stopping the war.  Mr. Wintham is most depressed to find out that the peace talks don't do a lot of good.  The Professor wonders if they could get a message to someone in the Malaysian embassy, and warn them.

"They take visions a lot more seriously than we do over here."

"Kate can make all this war not happen."  Cecily says. "She has the power. All she has to do is say one word."  And then Cecily breaks out crying, acting in a very confused manner.  She reproaches you for not saving the people from this awful war, and at the other hand, she begs you not to kill her.

The Professor wonders if they need to dose her with laudanum to get her to sleep.

PT

Kate gives the others a worried look and bites her lip.

She sits down next to Cecily.  If she can, she will try and hold her, to sooth her nerves and rock her to sleep, gently stroking her hair and telling her it will be all right.

She is not sure which she needs to convince more, herself or Cecily.  She has a lot to think about.

Can she do something as grand as prevent the whole thing from happening?  Let alone with one word?

What word could be strong enough to prevent three nations from uniting and trying to take over the world? Could one word be that powerful?

While you are musing, and trying to sit down next to Cecily, she begins to get more wild and hysterical on the couch.  Eustace goes and gets a bottle of laudanum, and they ask you to hold Cecily's feet while Mark holds her hands, and James pries her jaw open.  Eustace, the Professor, does the honors, and then holds her nose until Cecily swallows.

A couple minutes pass, and then Cecily's struggles fade, as if they had exhausted her, and soon she is snoring a tiny little snore.

The night passes for you in feverish dreams filled with people from all over Asia asking you to say the word, and then you can't as Japanese soldiers chase you up and down Manchuria, and you can't find the breath to speak the saving word.  A momentary pause, and you gather strength to speak, and a bayonet plunges through your lungs held by Tojo.

You scream, and wake up.

Its early morning, and the Eustace is slowly getting dressed.  Fumbling around in the dim pearliness of early morning and its fog-brimmed light.

"Have you ever been on a Hudson River steamboat?"

PT

Kate is still shaking from her nightmare when she wakes up and looks around.  She also thinks about last night.

"Laudanum," she asks.  "Isn't that ... opium based?"

She gives Cecily a worried, almost guilty look, then looks back at the professor.  "I don't think I've ever been on a steam boat," she answers.

As she wakes up, she writes down the nightmare in her journal along with Cecily's cryptic message.

' I can make all this war not happen... I have the power. All I have to do is say one word.'

She also notes Cecily's comments and her begging Kate not to kill her.

"Oh, yes, it is.  But its good for the little darlings.  My mother used it on the twelve of us all the time."  The Professor smiles broader.  "You are in for a treat then."

=====================================================================

Later that day, you and the rest get in the Model T and drive across the City to the Steamboat Dock, and get in line with about a thousand other people.  By the time the De Witt Clinton pulls up, and toots it horn in ear-splitting salute, another thousand have arrived.

Everyone is dressed up, and there is a general party atmosphere as you walk between the long iron rails of the fences to reach the steamboat.

It takes you an hour, but the first mate gives you and your group a crisp nod, and assigns a cabin boy to lead you and yours off to your rooms.  Everything is polished, shining, and made to be glitzy.  Its rather like visiting a family oriented casino...

PT

Kate tries not to oggle everything, but it is all truly new... or so old its novel to her.  She tries to forget herself if only for a few hours, but her mind keeps drifting back to Cecily's 'One Word' and how upset she gets with Kate about the fact that she can stop the killing-- and isn't doing it.

She thinks about asking Cecily, but she knows that it will only upset her again.  Either because she sees something in Kate or her mind... or her world or because she can't remember.  Either way, its not something Kate wants to start.

'When we finish this case,' she tells herself.  'Then I'll work it out.'

She spends time people watching and learning how people act on board.  She is friendly enough, but doesn't speak much.  There is still the possibility of someone from the party recognizing her.  So she reads... and watches.

She espeically listens for comments on the war, the peace talks in particular and anything about Germany, Italy or Japan.

You read the papers, and listen to several gentlemen arguing about the peace talks.  One takes the view that they are useless, and the other takes the view they are Mankind's best hope for "have we not banished war?"

It gets a little hostile with the possibility of war breaking out right then and there, you'd say.

Later, you hear one fellow telling a cooly amused female friend about his visit to Germany and meeting Adolph Hitler.

"Now there's a man with a vision.  I think if we supported him we would find peace in our time.  But instead, we are supporting the corrupt French and the near-broken Weimar Republic."

Lunch is served.  Its roast beef and gravy, and biscuits with corn on the cob which is bought fresh from farmers along the river.  This trip is enthused over by a number of people who claim that the portrait painters don't do it justice.  Its so very beautiful, the Hudson River Valley...

And then Mr. Hickok comes by as you rest on the railing overlooking the river with a smile on his face.

"Miss Kate. They will be letting down a rowboat for us in about an hour for us to disembark early at the Lanton Estate."

PT

Kate starts to speak up when she hears the man's comments, but then stops.  WHat can she say?  Yes-- he's got some good ideas and he'll do wonders for Germany-- of course only for the blonde haired, blue eyed Aryian type Geramans, and it will be built on the backs of all others...

But how could she explain knowing this?  When she doesn't speak, she thinks about Cecily's 'one word'.

But the time to say anything is gone.

She's relieved when Hickok tells her about the row boat.  The war as she knows it is 20 years away.  There is time for her to work out the puzzle-- she hopes.

"Thank you Mr. Hickok, she says, then rather guiltily adds, "how is Cecily?"

Mr. Hickok blinks at you perplexed for a second, and then catches up with you.

"Oh, the fit last night. She's fine, a bit tired. Professor's been feeding her cod liver oil to get her strength back up. It happens once in a while."

You get the feeling he considers it simply something to be endured.

==========================================================================

About an hour later, you are gathered with the others on the left side of the boat with an attentive crowd, and the Captain to see you off.  They lower the rowboat over the side, and you get to climb down a rope ladder into it.  Then Mr. Wintham and Mr. Hickok take turns with the oars and pull you all to a dock facing a huge green lawn sloping down to the river from a palatial and relaxed home in what was originally a Tudor style before many additions were added on to it.

PT

Kate takes it all in, the pomp and celebration that seems to follow the people she's met, the steam boat, the transfer to the rowboat.  She's glad she's worn her slacks.

As always she follows the others' lead.  This is still new to her and she knows she can learn a lot from them.

The Society seems to be enjoying the pomp as well since, despite your recent experiences, its not their customary thing.  Spooning Hungarian goulash out of a group pot onto plates is more their style.

You and Cecily are the first onto the dock with the understanding that you are to help the Professor up. Cecily is looking at an ant on the dock intently.

So you are the only one to see two doberman pinschers charging soundlessly across the sloping lawn toward you with a man in a bowler hat and vest trailing far behind.

PT

Kate feels her pulse race.  The dogs are beautiful, but she also knows that they are potentially dangerous.

"Hold on professor," she says then moves quickly between the dogs and Cecily.

She tries to read the dog's body language.  If they're friendly she will kneel on one knee and offer them her hand to smell.  If they are slightly more aggressive, but their tails are still wagging she will smile and give them her best small child voiced call of "Puppies!"

If their more defensive she will try to make friends or at least keep them from the others until the man arrives.  She doesn't want to do anything to hurt these beautiful animals... or be hurt by them.

They definitely look aggressive.  Teeth are showing as their lips are pulled back above their gums, and they are not approaching right next to each other, but spread out by ten feet which would make it more difficult to defend against them.

They are  hurtling toward you now that Cecily is behind you.  You hear some clanking noises, and a curse, and then bump Mr. Hickok is thumping your calf with the barrel of the shotgun trying to hand it up to you.

The man behind them is yelling something about "trespassers!"

PT

"We were asked to come here... call them off!" Kate calls back in a firm voice as she reaches for the shot gun.

She weighs her options.  She still doesn't want to hurt the dogs, but she doesn't want anyone else to get hurt.



If he doesn't call them off, and the dogs continue forward rather than holding her there, she will try scaring them first-- firing into the ground in front of them.

If they attack, she will shoot them.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:10, Thu 24 Nov 2005.

Your shotgun blast tears up some sod about five feet ahead of the charging dogs, and they bolt to a stop.  Whimpering they struggle with the dictates of training and survival which are at war in their doggy brains.

The man comes up behind them with his face flushed, his nose bright red.

"Yeh, didn't canna have to that did ye, colleen?"  He gripes rubbing the dogs heads, but the cold stares of Mr. Hickok and Mr. Wintham shut him up.  The Professor is the last up on the dock.

"Well Miss Shotgun, what were you saying?"

He turns to you after calming his guard dogs.

PT

Kate gives him a slightly embarrassed, apologetic shrug.  "I said we were asked to come here,she answers, giving him an innocent smile.

She looks around at the others, and then back to the man and the dogs.  “And … I asked you to call them off…”

Given the choice between scaring the dogs and killing them—she’d taken scaring them.  It wasn’t that she really had had much of a choice.

"Ah, right sorry ma'am.  I thought you was just beggars and thieves.  I didn't know Miss Lanton, bless her heart, was having more visitors."  He takes you up to the side door to a sunroom and past a collection of cars being washed in the sun.

One is a humble Model T.

"Mr. Lanton, he liked things black, that he did."  The groundskeeper says, and then turns to the group of car washers.

"Put your backs into it, yah lazy scalawags. Sorry, ladies, its just I have to keep after them. Irish are just born lazy, not like the Scotch-Irish who are notorious for our hard work."

He escorts the lot of you to the front door of a sunroom.  Inside you see two men.

"Oh great, 'Doctor' Harvey Murdock, and Saul Pennings. A quack, and a believer in electric shock therapy. They hate us." Mr. Wintham says watching the two men play cards.

PT

Once the game keeper is more... receptive, she allows the others to take the lead and hands the shotgun back to Mr. Hickok.

"Thanks," she says quietly.  Her expression indicates not only for handing her the shotgun, but for teaching her to use it as well.

She watches the game keeper and listens to his comments.  When they reach the sunroom she suppresses a smile at Mr. Wintham's comment.  She knows that in its early stages ECT was brutal-- being replaced by medicines in the 80's, but coming back in a kinder gentler version in the 90's and 2005.  She shudders at the idea of what it would do to someone in this day and age.

A cold chill washes through her when she realizes that if she had met the wrong people-- people who didn't believe her-- she could have easily been on the receiving end with her 'delusional behavior'.

Mr. Wintham opens the door, and with it a salvo.

"So, Doktor, lobotomized any more of the wrong patients lately?" He says as you all crowd into the room.

"Charlatan, fraud. Get out of here!" Doctor Harvery Murdock roars as he leaps up with his fists doubled, and his boiled white shirt straining from his muscles.

The other man stands more slowly.

"Well, the mystics and the madmen have arrived. I guess that means I win since we have a full house."  He tosses his hand of cards down on the table.

"Me, I thought you had two eights, and two kings." Mr. Hickok says.  A quick glance at the cards shows neither are right.  Its a pair of twos.

You can tell its about to get violent in here.

PT

Kate takes a deep breath and moves between the combatants.  "Gentleman, please-- we are all here to help a lady in distress-- I doubt coming to fisticuffs in her home would do anything but cause more distress... "

She takes a deep breath as she tries to look each man in the eye.

'At least Hickok didn't suggest aces and eights,' she thought to herself.  'That would have been bad.'

She gives each of them a gentle but firm 'you know I'm right' look.

"Of course. My name is Saul Pennings.  And you are...?  He pauses to let you answer.

"My dear, I don't recall you being with this lot before.  May I suggest to you that if you are interested in seeing marvels, you come with us.  Modern science has so much more to offer than these..." You don't hear him say it, but you almost feel like from his tone that he was about to say 'clueless buffoons.'

At this point Mr. Hickok starts yelling over your shoulder, and shaking his fist while Mr. Pennings smirks innocently.

PT

Kate makes a slight nod that is more reminscent of a bow than just a simple nod.  "I am Kate... Katherine MacIntosh-Smythe... of Singapore "

She leaves off the 'pleasure to meet you' that she has learned and simply listens to his comments politely.

She gives him a laughing smile when he mentions the marvels of modern science.  "I am afraid that what I have seen of modern science is frightfully... soulless" she answers.

"Back home most people feel that you cannot seperate the body, from the mind, from the soul.  They are the sum of what we are.  When a person is ill, it is the doctor's job to bring balance to all three.  Scientists sometimes forget this in searching for the 'truths'."

'Wonder what you would think of the lab that brought me here... or of my computer sciences projects at school... '

"Soulless. Well, that might be of importance if one believed in the archaic and unscientific notion of a soul."  Saul Pennings replies with a finely calibrated contempt for other viewpoints that is short of being completely rude.

"The mind, she is just a machine, a clockwork mechanism. When I slice at it, in a lobotomy, or remove a chunk, I see obvious changes.  The machine is like a steam engine, only a complicated one.  Hit it with a hammer, and it changes its tune."  The other fellow, Doctor Murdock, explains his view while waving his hands in what looks like cutting motions.  "Mind is nothing. Soul is less than nothing."  Doctor Murdock smiles at you.  "It is hard to put aside the superstitions of one's youth, but this is science. And it seems hard to us to see such a bright girl as yourself be in the company of fakers like these."

He waves a hand at your comrades who just stare back at him with the regard one gives to an insect.

PT

Kate looks at them and laughs then shakes her head.  "No my dear doctor, if the mind is nothing, then, by your own definition,you are nothing, and I think we can all agree that you are, quite something."

"A human being is more than the sum of his parts.  If you take the human body... break it down into its component parts-- carbon, oxygen, hydrogen... it's worth... less than a dollar.  But if you take the chemical compounds it is made up of, the enzymes, the protiens... it is worth a million times that.  And with that, we are still just talking about the body.  And the body is just the machine.... the casing that we... our minds, move about.  It is the mind that has the capacity to understand thigns like... electricty.  And it is the mind that has come up with so many uses for electricty. No simple machine can do that."

Her mind races ahead, trying to rule out arguments that would not yet make sense.  She couldn't even touch on what she knew about thought, and learning based on the programming she'd done.  She shakes her head.  "It is our capacity to learn, to reason and to extrapolate that sets us apart. And that only barely touches on the imagination..."

"You, gentlemen, are robbing yourselves, and society of the truth, for the illusion that you know better.  As a scientist, you must approach things with an OPEN MIND... and learn the truth, not .. interpret it to support your theories.  And to deny the very existance of the mind-- let alone the soul is to deny everything that sets us apart."

"If you measure the brain's activity in its enitirety rather than breaking it apart-- you would be amazed by what you find, for like the human body, the activity in the brain... when people are thinking, or meditating or exercising... are far greater than the brain where it takes place. and these can be measured."

"And you, a scientist cannot afford to assume that you know everything-- for that means there is nothing left to discover... and science is discovery... and even after things are discovered-- they must be put to use.  Engineering is putting those discoveries to use. Engineering is finding ways of using that discovery."

"Where would we be if... Newton had decided he knew everything about gravity?  Or if da Vinci had not created so many things based on knowledge that did not yet exist?  That is imagination-- and imagination is not something that can be measured... it is part of the whole, and if you only study the parts-- you miss out on some of the greatest wonders in the universe."

"Take a step back-- don't break down something into its compnant parts and explain that the parts are simple-- those simple parts are part of something far more complex. You need to observe what the whole can do-- observe that which defies definition.  Explore it, revel in it-- for when you look at the minutia, you miss the miracoulous."

"And that, gentlemen-- is definition of soulless."

She takes a deep breath and smiles at them.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:03, Thu 24 Nov 2005.

You hear a faint clapping from the doorway, and turn to see a wan, and shadowed young woman in an embroidered housecoat leaning against the now open doorway with about a half-dozen servants behind her ready to jump in to help her in any way they can.

"I've tried to express those same points to my magi, but I fear not as eloquently.  I am Miss Charity Lanton, and I've been informed that my good friend Mrs. Standerhouse has been meddling in my affairs again, and sent you to help me. Please, have a seat."

Servants help her to her wicker chair, and give her a drink, and then when she orders it, one for everyone else.  You all sit down.

"I have a dream. And despite what my helpers here say, I fear.  I dream of a brother begging me for help.  Of walking down a long hallway with bars on the windows.  But I'm afraid I don't have a brother. I am an only child. So I fear I am going...eccentric."

PT

Kate takes an instant liking to Mrs. Lanton.

She listens to Mrs. Lanton's story. Up until her... accident, Kate would never have thought of paralell universes but now-- it is something formost in her mind.

Kate smiles at her and nods.  "Sometimes-- when we dream, it is our subconcious trying to tell us something... and what we see is a repesentation of the real problem," she says softly-- thinking of her dream from the other night.

"Sometimes it means something-- sometimes it doesn't... that you keep having the dream it definetly becomes... interesting."

She doesn't say it, but she's thinking of the ancient curse 'may you live in
interesting times.'

She looks at the others, realizing that she's spoken more in the last 5 mintues than she probably has since her arrival.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:39, Sat 26 Nov 2005.

"Well, I can't recall it in much more detail than that, although I feel certain there is more, that there is something to this manifestation."

"Nonsense." Saul Pennings says sharply to which Miss Lanton gives a cold glance his way.

Mr. Wintham leans over to you, and queries.  "Hypnosis to help her recall?"  He seems willing to let you lead the speaking since you have established a rapport with Miss Lanton.

PT

Kate gives Mr. Wintham a slight nod, then focuses on Miss Lanton again.  "I have learned that often when you...'feel' there is more to something, there usually is.  The mind, as I've said, is an amazing thing.  It records everything we see, and though we don't know something on a conscious level, sometimes, there is something we have noticed on a sub-consious level.  The problem is usually retrieving this information, or translating it."

"It is possible that your dream is caused by something you've seen or felt-- and the only way your mind has of feeding it into your conscious is through dreams.  It is also possible that it is just a dream but--"

She meets Miss Lanton's eyes.  She doesn't want to feed her false hope, but she also doesn't want to be like Pennings-- ever... and since her accident she's been thinking a lot more about... possibilities.

"Mr Wintham is a hypnotist... he can try and put you in a dream-like state where... maybe... we can learn more details... "

She holds Miss Lanton's gaze.  Kate honestly wants to help her

There is a bit of a struggle as the two reigning doctors don't want to leave the room, but Mr. Wintham does not trust them not to deliberately mess up the procedure.

Soon enough you (for the purposes of protecting Miss Lanton's honor and person) and Miss Lanton and Mr. Wintham are situated in a small, dark interior room.  Mr. Wintham begins the hypnosis with his railroad watch on a chain.

He cautions you not to look directly at the watch.

Swinging...swinging....you feel a little odd, and then you hear Mr. Wintham say...

"Now, Miss Lanton, if you would could you tell me of your dream?"

"Its not Miss Lanton, its Mrs. Roger Somerset."

"Is it?"

"No, no the Boche, they shot him." She starts crying, and Mr. Wintham looks at you perplexed, and then starts calming her.

*Most unusual* he writes to you on a notepad.

"of your dream?"

“I walk down a dirty stone hallway with a policeman.  He’s telling me, he hopes I have a real, good lawyer.  My brother is sure to get a bullet, unless he gets a rope.”  Here she starts to struggle under hypnosis, and to weep.  “Oh, Charley, Charley, how could they do this to you?” Pause.  “Its burning, burning.  No, get out.  Please get up.  Ow.  I’m burning, no, I’m burning!”

  She wakes with a shriek from her hypnosis which is not good at all for her state of mind, and several angry servants burst in the door...

PT

Kate is already beside her speaking with a calm gentle voice telling her that she'd done very well.

"Are you all right? She asks in a gentle tone.  The last thing she wanted to do was upset the woman.

"Its just your dream... only you were able to tell us more than you remembered... You're in your home... and I believe your servants are ready to seek vengence if we've hurt you.  It's good that you have peole who watch out for you... "

She's speaking in gentle tones, just working to make sure that Miss Lanton is back with them with no ill effects from the process.

"how are you feeling?"

Mr. Wintham holds off two servants as you calm the shaken Miss Lanton.  She raises a delicate hand to her head, and gently probes it.

"Strangely, despite the palpitations of my heart, I do feel better." And then she raises her head and with unconscious arrogance snaps out a command. "Michaels, Vera, the lot of you. Cease at once. These are guests."

"But ma'am..." The leader begins plaintively.

"I know. Now go. I'll be fine."

The servants leave, and two well-dressed people, a couple, enter, both in their mid-fifties you'd guess.

"Elizabeth dearie, its only natural that the servants would be concerned. With you screaming so loudly that they probably heard you on the other side of the Hudson, for goodness sake."  The man says with a British accent.
"Poor, poor child." The woman says, and comes over to Miss Lanton to pat her on the forehead.  Miss Lanton barely controls a flinch away.

PT

Kate smiles when she Miss Lanton admits to feeling better.  She winces slightly at the arrogance, but knows that this is part of how Miss Lanton was raised.

She watches the two who enter and she can't help but notice Miss Lanton's reaction to the woman's touch.

She gives her a moment to collect herself and then gives her an understanding smile (as in, 'Do you want to talk about it?')

She also closes her journal where she was taking notes for a moment and then opens it to another page and smiles, and looks at Miss Lanton again.

"Something you might find helpfull.. is try keeping a journal, and not just about the dreams-- about your life, how you feel... I personally find that writing really bad poetry makes me feel better-- sometimes it gives me another perspective on things."

She turns it so that Miss Lanton can see her notes.  On the particular page are some shopping notes (need toothbrush and toothepaste)... a geometric doodle and a poem.

"It also helps when I go back and look at things, its like when I was talking about discecting everything... too often we're stuck in the day to day and we need to take a step back and take a look at the 'big picture'-- a journal can help you do that."

She pauses and looks Miss Lanton in the eye.  "I'd rather not tell you what you told us under hypnosis... not yet anyway... This way.. what we heard won't influence what you see or feel... does that make sense?"

Miss Lanton shakes her head minisculely in a negative fashion, and wants to go to bed, and rest.  After she leaves the room, you are left with Mr. Wintham and the couple for the servants have left.

"I see that my niece has taken a liking to you.  Its good that she has a friend in this uncouth land.  I've been wanting to take her back to her family in England where she can receive proper care, but she doesn't seem to see the good of going with her loving aunt and uncle."  The lady says.

"Forgive my dear wife, she has not introduced us. I am Lord" He says that with slight emphasis,  "Randall Morris, and this is Lady Clemence." He pulls out a cigar and lights it with a slash of a match against the wallpaper.  "If you were able to convince her, you'd naturally have to buy travelling clothes. We'd be able to help there. Say a thousand pounds sterling...?"

PT

Kate is mildly taken aback by the offer.  It is a hefty some in this day and age, and she knows the importance of money-- but she hates the idea of 'using' how she feels about Miss Lanton for monitary gain.

If it is what she wants, that's one thing-- but if its not...

She smiles.  "Lord Moris, Lady Clements, you honor me, but I doubt I could influence her decision one way or the other," she says.  "For now... I'd just like to know more about her... if you don't mind."

She pauses, hoping they'll agree, because then it is more their idea than hers and that way she's not working against any one.

"Its just that we are afraid for her. We fear that with her sleepwalking she might end up in the Hudson River, and drown, and that would be a tragedy."  She looks almost sincere as she says this, and her husband nods trying on his best sincere look too.

"I'm sure, the young lady will do the right thing. She seems well brought up."  Lord Morris says and then they both leave.

Mr. Wintham turns to you, and with a curious look in his eyes says....

"You are aware that that thousand pounds he was so eager to give you would have come from Miss Lanton's bank, aren't you? Typical impoverished English nobles..."

PT

Once she's sure they're gone and out of earshot Kate gives a slight shudder.

Kate looks at him and shrugs.  "I wish I could say I'm surprised... "

She looks at him.  "There's a lot more here than her dream... WE have to help her."  She's fairly certain he'll agree with that, but she knows that if he doesn't-- she will.  The society has been her adopted family, but in Miss Lanton, she sees a kindred spirit-- someone who NEEDS help.

She quickly checks her notes, makes sure she's written down the names and dream and has Mr. Wintham review her notes.

"We need to find them...."

Suddenly her expression falls.  She's just realized... or been reminded... there is no microfiche, no internet... no people search.

She looks at him.  "I... know how to find them in my world... my time... not... " Her shoulders sag.  "Not here...."

"My dear Kate, I am a gentleman. I could not look myself in the mirror if I turned away from helping a lady.  Besides, nothing would make me happier than to spite Murdock and Pennings, that pair of lecherous reductionistic simpletons.  And I've never been that reverent toward nobles.  The way I see it, we had a revolution to get rid of those people."

By this time, he's waving up a storm and hammering each point home with a finger stabbed into the palm of his left hand.

A few minutes later, and you have gathered with the others.  The news is relayed to them.

The Professor puts her hands on her chin,and tries to think.

"We have a puzzle that needs solving. Any ideas? That includes you, Mr. Hickok, you're a hunter, and this is a hunt."  Mr. Hickok had been about to excuse himself on the basis of lack of skill, but now he starts to consider things.

PT

Kate smiles.  "We did not revolt... we were one of the Empire's Protectorates.  That pretty much ended when Japan took Singapore in the Second World War... "  Her voice is slightly sad and wry.

"But my father did not suffer fools lightly..."

When he grows adamant, she smiles and holds up her hands in surrender.  "I meerly didn't want to make decisions and commitments for you without confering with you first... " she says in a soft innocent tone.

She watches each person's reactions when they are filled in and can't help but feel relieved.

When asked for suggestions Kate thinks about how she'd search for information in her world.  'Google is out,' she thinks.

"These people have to be mentioned somewhere," Kate says.  "In the newspapers, in police records... court records... the biggest problem is-- they could be anywhere... any...when..."

"If we were Pinkerton's Detective Agency, maybe we could search all such records.  But no, we are not. What data do we have, and is it a hidden meaning such as 'brother' means all humanity, or is it literal, such as 'her brother'.  But that cannot be, as Miss Lanton was an only child of Robert and Lady Elizabeth Lanton."  The Professor says.

Mr. Wintham steps out, and comes back with a servant who begins filling glasses to make iced tea with more than a splash of alcohol added to it, New England Iced Tea is what they call it.  They give you and Cecily the ones minus the alcohol.

PT

Kate ponders the discussion, and then looks at Hickok.

"Your famous family member was James Buttler "Wild Bill" yes?"

She pauses as she tries to peice everything together, and waits for his response.

She lets her breath out slowly.  "One of the peices of information, that's even made it into modern songs, is the fact that, in my world he died in a card game-- his attention wasn't on the possibilty of having to fight someone-- and the cards he held will be forever known as 'the dead man's hand'... Aces and eights... Black Aces and eights if you want to be specific... what happened here? WHen you were talking to the others.. you said Kings and Eights... was that just a co-inicence.. or is it the same story but a different hand?"

She bites her lip for a moment before continuing.  "If there are parallel worlds, I'm guesing that there are parallel versions of ourselves... and if that's the case... wouldn't we have some sort of connection to these people.. these versions of us?  Even if only slightly-- sometimes more than others... and would I always be Katherine, or Kate or Katie?  Couldn't I just as easily have a different name, a different family?"

She lets her breath out in a heavy sigh.  "But that doesn't really help us does it?"

She pauses looking at Mr. Wintham's watch.  "Or... could it?  Is it possible that on some level... I could reach another me... if only on a subconsious level?"

She pauses.  "The world I knew... This sort of information is available online.. A computerized search can yeild results in... seconds... I... "

She looked at each of them and shrugged.  "Its worth a try..."

Its a half statement half question.

"Yes, Wild Bill was my grandfather." Mr. Hickok aknowledges.  And then he stares at you. "It was definitely Kings and Eights.  I've seen the actual cards he held at the time.  Kind of a family memento."

"Weird family." Cecily says suddenly.

Mr. Wintham leans back.  And thinks a good bit.  He occasionally tosses out a word to Eustace, and she says something cryptic in reply.

"Hmmh, hmm. Could be."  He says.

"It would be dangerous."  The Professor says cautiosly.

"Undoubtedly." He replies, and then he sits forward while the others lean in.

"We might be able to do it. A mixture of magic and hypnosis, and drugs.  It would be, I shall not lie. Dangerous. You'd be going very deep, so deep you might die from not being able to come back, or well, possibly meet something highly unpleasant.  However, I have contacted creatures living in another dimension with the aid of ...a former assistant."  His face clouds.

"I'm sorry, this is foolishness. Its too risky."  He begins to get up from his chair.

PT

Kate puts her hand on his gently urging him back to his seat.  "I died in an experiment that a professor said was completely safe... an experiment I willingly particpated in in the hopes of securing myself a position for the future..."

Her expression is gentle, but resolute.  "How much better to save someone's life?... or maybe a world's worth of someones?... tell me what the risks are-- help me understand... let me make an educated descions."

She takes a deep breath and looks at Hickok, and then back at the others.  "I know there are things worse than dying-- but... it might be worth the risk."

"You will go deep enough that if you have some sudden impulse, a death wish as that Viennese quack says, you may well die.  Or if you lack the energy and the vision to pull yourself back to the surface...its also possible that you could get stranded halfway, and be trapped in some dream.  Or perhaps even carried off to some dreamworld by, um, creatures.  From everything I've heard, if the creatures have long beaks and red wings, its better to die than allow them to capture you.  But there is a wide array of creatures we have little or no understanding of.  And you will be taking a mixture of opium, and several other drugs which may induce strange thoughts, palpitations of the heart, and other physical maladies.

I personally have not been as deep as we are discussing taking you.  I've only taken one person that deep, and well,..."

He pauses, and then turns away.

"The Boston Bay Strangler. He was our friend.  Joe McLann.  But when he came back, he saw demons in shadows, and monsters in ordinary people, and I don't know, we saw some strange things around him, but I don't think we saw what he saw.  We tried to help, but in the end, we had to help the police track him down. And now he's at Sing Sing on Death Row."  The Professor says weeping as Mr. Hickok hugs her.

PT
OOC: Sorry, I ran out of time in the morning, and couldn't get to yours before leaving the house.  This is my morning post for you.

Kate takes a deep breath.  This is a lot to process.

She closes her eyes and lets her breath out slowly.  "I... I'm sorry," she says softly.

Though she's only been with them a short time, she's seen how deeply these people can care about strangers-- to lose one of their members...

She bites her lip.  "We have to help Miss Lanton, she says.  "And we have the riddle that Cecily has presented... "

She looks at them.  "Nothing is fortuitous," she says.  "It was something I was taught as a child.  Therefore... I have to believe I am here for a reason... a purpose."

She shakes her head.  "If you can come up with something else.. I'm more than willing to listen... Believe me..."

She looks at them.  "We could observe Miss Lanton... see if someone's gas-lighting her... trying to make her think she's going insane.... "

"How deep did you go-- and what did you find?"

They think that it is a good idea to have someone stay the night in Miss Lanton's bedroom.  You are the obvious choice being female, and having a good relationship with her.

Mr. Wintham and Mr. Hickok will wander around a bit at night trying to see if anyone is up to anything, like one of the servants, or even one of the 'doctors'.

"We need to talk to the servants too." Mr. Hickok says.  "Oftentimes they know a lot more than they let on."

"Indeed, every good magician learns how servants can be used to spy out another magician's secrets.  I learned a hard lesson that time when Derry Diablo stole my..."

"We know the story, Mr. Wintham."  The Professor says impatiently. "You've told us how you were tricked, and got your revenge at least a hundred times."

"I'll tell you later, Miss Kate, after these ingrates are off to bed."  Mr. Wintham says.  "We went deep into the realm of nightmares down near the base of the bottom of the Dark Trees, and we sought an explanation for certain lights we had heard of that seemed to cause insanity as they flew over the city of Boston, heading south.  We found nothing."

PT

Kate smiles and nods.

She knows she may have to face this trial, but is glad to have time to think it through, and to hopefully learn more.  It is possible that it won't come to that but she wants to be sure.

She lets the others make the plans and gain permission.  She doesn't want to assume it is all right with Miss Lanton, but she hopes she'll agree.  One of the things that seriously bothers her is other people making Miss Lanton's descions for her... like she's a child.  Didn't the sufregettes get the vote here?

She paused, remembering the professor's comment about being one and then she remembered Kickok and the eights and Kings.

"Professor, have women gotten the right to vote here?"

IF they do, then Miss Lanton has every right to stay or go as she pleases.

They definitely ask Miss Lanton who is after all richer than everyone else on this estate all put together, and she quite happily consents.  Its not so much that she 'can't' do things, its that people scheme around her a lot, and she's a bit tired at times, and constrained by politeness, and sometimes timidly persuadable, although sometimes not as there is a spark in her.

Women got the right to vote here, Eustace tells you, and then regales you with a few stories of the effort.  Both Mr. Wintham and Mr. Hickok figure in these stories as well since as the Professor says.."The only way we got the right to vote was to convince men of the need for it since they were the ones voting to give us that right."

PT

Kate smiles at Eustice's stories and then tells her, "I saw a movie they made about it-- it was quite... " she lets her breath out as she searches for a word.  "inspiring... It has spread over the world... and most places where there is a vote, women have an equal say... at least... in my worl."


Kate does her best to not intrude on Miss Lanton's routine.  She'll gladly talk if Miss Lanton wants to, but she won't force the issue.  She does her best to observe everything-- and note Miss Lanton's daily activities.

She looks for anything where someone could slip her anything (and tries to determine if they are.)

She plans on staying awake tonight to watch and see what happens.

You find that she spends a lot of time working on delicate knotwork, and on reading books by preference books on natural wildlife.  She adores Teddy Roosevelt as he was a conservationist, and she enjoys shooting clay pigeons although she has stopped since her relatives call it 'unladylike'.

She confides to you over the top of a half-finished raccoon that her greatest dream was to start a museum of natural history with animals that she hunted, and stuffed herself.  But she thinks she can't do it.

Her servants hover, and sometimes get downright distracting with their insistence on being helpful.  It would be hard to gas-light her with this many servants around.

You get to meet her 'dearest heart', a black and white picture of a young captain in a WW1 uniform.  She also takes you over to her father's office who died recently.

"Leaves me quite alone in the world. I have plenty of suitors and needy relatives. I am well-graced in behavior and looks, and have more money than even the most profiligate shopper could spend what with the three mill towns that are still adding to my fortune.  But, I left my heart on the Somme, and my last link to the world of life here as my father wasted away from a peculiar disease."

PT

Kate listens to her and shakes her head.  "You can't let other people define you, or what you do...  If you enjoy something like target shooting..."  She shakes her head.

"You aren't hurting anyone... what's wrong with it?  When Mr. Kickok took me to learn how to shoot, there were two very propper ladies there, and they were shooting a fair site better than me... Lady-like and proper aren't always the same thing.  I met some right and proper young ladies, and they were coniving, and catty... nothing I would consider lady-like.  Lady is in your bearing and in how you deal with others, and how you treat others.  Proper is conforming to artificial standards."

She looks at Miss Lanton with fascination when she talks of her museum.  "I think a natural museum's a wonderful idea.  And the only thing I can tell you is if you don't try-- it will never happen.  Dreams are worth striving for-- even if you don't make it, sometimes the greatest joy can be found in the attempt."

Kate looks at the picture and listens to Miss Lanton, and nods as she thinks of her own family.  She looks up, tears welling up in her eyes.  "I have lost everyone I knew back home, she says softly.  "Everyone I cared about... they're gone-- but..."

She looks up and around, and gives a very proud, determined smile.  "Living doesn't lessen the love we have for them-- or they for us.  And I know my father wouldn't want me to give up on living.  He loved life so much... And when I think of him-- I just want to do him proud... "

After a pause she laughs, then shares her thought. "My mother would want me to keep my elbows off the table... "

"For me-- if I give up on living, on the joy of living... I give up everything they loved.  And then I really will have lost them."

Kate pauses and looks at her.  "That is what works for me-- You have to find what works for you.  I only know that retreating from the world only makes things harder... But embracing it means facing loss again-- but I would rather risk feeling loss again than feeling nothing."

She comes over and hugs you.

"I shall be back shortly, and then its off to bed.  You could pick a book from my father's library to read."

She leaves you alone in the masculine office/library with the double bay windows for viewing the Hudson.  You check out the library along the wall, and you exhilaration begins to chill as you read the titles.

"Some Mechanical Devices for Improving Cotton Production" sounds terrifically dull.
"Map of the USA" sounds potentially useful.
"Blood Sacrifices of the Aztecs" doesn't sound like fun night time reading. Neither does "Worship of the Coiled Servant." or "The Black Blade and the Invocation of Powers Unseen."

By the desk you see a book pulled out, and bookmarked in several places.

"The Feminine in Fire: A Grimoire."

A servant comes back, and says from the doorway.

"Miss Lanton is bedding down. Please feel free to come by at your convenience. Also, she wished to inform you that her relatives had decided to leave at the end of the week, and go back to England."  He pauses with his hands behind his back. "If you would like a small night-time snack, a soothing blackberry tea, or something else...?"

Kate turns and smiles at the servant.  "The blackberry tea sounds wonderful," she says.  "Thank you!"

She snags the book, figuring on looking at the earmarked pages if nothing else.  She takes the cup of tea (which she has no intention of drinking) graciously and goes into Miss Lanton's bedroom, picking a nice chair to sit in and read.

You camp out in the corner under a small lamp in an overstuffed, and bright green chair while Miss Lanton reads more of A Bear's Habitat.  You are reading something far less soothing.

The first bookmark compares the female to fire in poetic fashion, and causes your cheeks to blush a time or two. Evidently 1920's America is a little wilder than 2005 Singapore.

The next bookmark goes on to describe how to 'attract the spirited woman, a fiery temperment being desirable' and rituals involved that involve calculations that make your brain hurt trying to make sense of them.  Its heavily into numerology, and upper level calculus at the least.

There is a note in the edging in bold pencil strokes.

"Works. Regrettably. Richetta not a pleasant surprise.  Unlike my earlier experiements which were most enjoyable. However, those were not suited to the role of a society wife. Richetta had the breeding, but complications ensued rapidly."

The third bookmark talks about the fire inside all of us, and how to bring it to you so that the world will dance at your command. Some very cryptic notes are attached to it.

Miss Lanton is snoring quite loudly at this point.

The night passes, and you make it to dawn without falling asleep for more than twice for a couple minutes each.

PT

Kate takes notes-- especially the names.  And the information on the fire inside us all.  It makes no sense to her, but she takes notes anyway.  She also sketchs the writing style-- not knowing it will prove important or not.

She smiles at Miss Lanton as she wakes and quickly downs her tea.  She doesn't know if she's relieved or not that nothing has happened.  At least Miss Lanton seems safe in her own home.

After getting up, and having breakfast, you meet privately on the patio out back of the house with your group.  They ask you what you have discovered, and what you think is going on.

PT

Kate shrugs.  "I've found a few odd things," she answers, showing them the book, and the marked pages, along with the notes in the margins.  More names to research.

She mentions that Miss Lanton's relatives are heading back at the end of the week.  "So if they're the problem-- they'd need to do something by then... I would think."

She lets out a sigh.  "I don't know.  All I know is-- Miss Lanton has some wonderful ideas... and she's lost a lot of people she's cared about."
This message was lightly edited by the player at 16:00, Mon 05 Dec 2005.

"Well, it seems clear that Mr. Lanton, her father, was engaged in the use of love spells.  And what else, we're not sure. Suddenly the fact that he 'wasted away' as the servants say begins to take on more significance."  The Professor says softly, rubbing her temples.

"What fools these mortals be." Mr. Wintham says with his typical dramatic flair.  "Love spells." He grunts in disgust.

"Sheer idiocy, I agree, Mr. Wintham.  Magic is not a thing to be used lightly. One of Mr. Lanton's wealth and power should have had no problem getting a willing mistress if his wife did not satisfy. And by far safer means than magic."  The Professor concludes by turning to you.

"My dear, I have a task for you. Actually two. One, please inquire of the servants, several I should think, of the late Mr. Lanton's life and character. Servants know everything after all. Second, after this is done. You need some sleep."  The Professor reaches out and pats your hand.

PT

Kate nods as the the others discuss what she's found.. and their reactions.  She began to wonder more about if these 'magics' were more than they seemed.  She also thought about the society's friend who had gone off the deep end after 'going too deep'.  She knows its something she's going to need to talk to them about later.  One thing at a time.

She promises she'll sleep once she's talked to the servants.

She seeks out the servant who brought her the tea last night.  "Good moring," she says brightly.  "I wanted to thank you for the tea last night, it really hit the spot."

She will listen to the conversations around her and let them talk if they want to.  She doesn't want to push... too much.  She will mention the odd combination of books in the libray and how interesting Mr. Lanton must have been and see where that takes the conversation.

The servant thanks you.

"Ah, miss, we don't like to go in that room. Some nights, its like someone is there.  Not the Master either. And some nights, there is light from under the door. And Kimberly Stratford, she got dreadful sick after cleaning that room, top to bottom.  Half her hair fell out, and for a while it looked like she was going to die, but then she got better. No one knows why, even though the doctors like to claim credit, I think it stumped them too."

He brushes back his thinning hair, bald in the center.

"I could not stand to loose half my hair, so I don't much go in there.  Although the master was known to have odd folk visit a-time or three.  He'd entertain them privately.  Buy things from them.  One time I saw a knife, made of some black stone, and I was about to dust it, when the Master caught my arm.  Which surprised me, because he's not like some Masters who beat their servants.  And he picked up the blade with a nice silk hankerchief, ruining it since the blade was oily."

Another servant says...

"You might want to speak to the groundskeeper.  He's been around here for nigh onto twenty years."

PT

Kate nods, listening to them attentitively.  She takes mental notes to transcribe later.  It is a fascinating tale and she encourages them to tell her more.  If anyone's doing anything like, polishing silver, she'll start polishing it with them.

When they are done she thanks them and takes their suggestion of talking to the grounds keeper.  When she finds him, she starts by asking about the dogs, and making sure she didn't scare them too badly.

You walk into the shed out back of the house.  Its a neat, capacious kingdom filled with tools, and several cars that the groundskeeper is polishing.  Also several dogs are in kennels outside, and they whine to let him know you are coming.

He comes out, and spots you.  You say your piece, and he nods.

"They are okay. I just thought you was some New York City ruffians. Hooligans out for a prank. Sorry about that, missie."  He reaches over with his well-seamed hand, and dabs some polish on a black luxury car with rag.

"Aye, I knew old Henry Lanton better than most.  Funny thing is, I thought he'd end up outliving me. Very vigorous man, if you take my meaning.  Had a nice head of almost black hair until right before the end.  Things got weird then."

He looks over at you with a glance you find uncomfortable, a glance that lingers too long and intimate.

"See Henry and I were alike. We both liked things that were black. Twaren't no sin in it. Adultery only applies when the other woman is human, at least fully human. I'm sure you understand."

PT

Kate tries to school her expression but it is difficult.  Her father had told her of times when people thought the same of the Irish, or Asians... she could only guess what the man was thinking about her-- and just how 'human' she was.

Still there was more information to be had, so she opted to simply ignore the comment.  "How do you mean...weird?"

"Oh lights in the office, and he raced off out of season to his milltowns down south. He acted strange. Broken.  At times he mooned like a star-struck boy over the first girl, and other times he seemed about to jump out of his skin he was so nervous.  And all the time he kept getting frailer and frailer.  I tried to tell him to have a good time, go south, visit his ah friends, but I think he only went to apologize. Foolishness that. He did nothing wrong. A man has a right to his entertainments."

He strolls over to you.

"Now this is a mite thirsty work, so why don't you join me in my office. Share a splash of the good stuff with me?"

PT

Kate gives him an apologetic shrug.  "Thank you, I'm honored, but I really must get back to the others and see how Miss Lanton is doing... I hope you understand... "

"Understand, I understand all right.  You come down here, taunting me, you..."

At this point, he descends into a mire of misogyny and rascism mixed with lustful fantasies about why you came to visit him, that he starts shouting at you while gripping your left forearm strong enough to creak the bones in your arm.  His face is transformed from merely unpleasant to raving madness as the pressure on your arm mounts the dogs, trained to silence began trying to leap the fence to your left, keening out their distress as they vault six and eight feet into the air.

PT

Kate's eyes widen in shock and surprise.  No one would ever dare grab her like this in Singapore... His language alone is enough to scare her, but even worse, is the look in his eyes.

Her mind races as she tries to think of ways of dealing with the situation.  He is both bigger and stronger than she is... and it would seem his madness was giving him more strength.

On her side was her own strenth and flexibility as well as the fact that the man's madness was making it so that he was not thinking in the slightest.

Drop and run-- the dogs may chase me.  Hit him-- the dogs will definitely be on me...

Lacking any other idea she lets out her best 'GODZILLA is about to eat Tokyo and I don't want to die' scream, hoping it would either break through his madness or make him loosen his grip long enough for her to get away.

As an afterthought, she stomps on his instep as hard as she can.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:57, Wed 07 Dec 2005.

You slam his instep, and you hear something go snap.  He whales you across the face with a slap, and then he howls in agony as if the pain just registered.  Its...odd.  But as he hops on one foot, you jerk away, and find yourself falling as if you had just been slapped.

The dogs are over the fence, two of them, and standing stiff-legged.

You hear shouts from up at the house.

"Mr. Wintham, get a rifle." The Professor shouts/orders, and booted feet pound your way.  They will be here quickly, but in thirty seconds two Dobermans can do a lot of damage.

You look up into your assailant's face, and for an immeasurable time you feel as if you are looking through him, as if he were dirty glass in a shed, and some scene of macabre horror was being enacted beyond the window.  The dead were being lined up to be shot again by men in trenchcoats...

Pt

Kate is startled and mortified by the turn of events, but she also knows that if she doesn't move-- it's over.

She looks at her options... diving into one of the cars, the office or the rafters.  Her mind races over the options as part of her wonders at how things seem to be so disjointed and sureal.

She forces that part of her brain to work with the others, knowing she doesn't have the time to worry about it.  Everything comes down to surviving the next 30 seconds.

Everything slows to a heartbeat as she dives for the office door, hoping to close the door behind her... praying there is a door to close.

You lunge toward the door, and a split-second later a Doberman races after you, bouncing from a standing start to a full-on charge without more than a momentary pause. As you flee inward, you feel a sharp pain in your calf dragging you down to the ground, and you turn around on your back to see the dog attached to your calf, engulfing your calf in its great mouth, biting through skin and muscle with ease.

The other dog is not with it for some reason, and you hear a shot outside the shed, and another shot, but for the moment its you and the dog who's glaring at you from your leg which it is starting to toss around with whips of its neck which jerk you sickeningly about, and somewhere someone is whimpering, and screaming...

PT

Kate isn't really thinking at this point.  As she's whipped around she grabs at for anything she can use against the dog... a pitch fork, a hoe, a lug wrench...

If she she manages to grab anything, she will swing it at the dog.  Part of her is certain that the whimpering and screaming is her own.

She is not going to go down without a fight

You grab the first thing handy, and throw the rag at it in disgust hoping to blind it.  The handful of screws that follows it, gets you to focus enough to pick a weapon rather than grabbing for the nearest thing handy, and you find nothing...but then you wrench out a drawer full of papers from the desk in the office, and smash it alongside the killer dog's head.

It slumps, and wobbles as it gets back to its feet, and with a last convulsive effort, you switch direction on it, and swing the drawer back this time from right to left, and smash it across the face.

It goes down, and stays down.

Trembling, you push its head out the door, and quickly shut the door. Perhaps ten seconds later, you hear a shot, and then some scraping, and then the door opens.

Mr. Hickok jerks open the door with a smoking pistol in his hand....

PT

Kate looks up at him, relief and pain showing in her eyes.

"Two... there were two dobermans lose..." She tells him as she looks around for some of that 'good stuff' and some clean cloths to clean and bandager her leg wound.

Her hands are shaking and she wants to forget the grounds keeper, but then she realizes that the others must be warned.  "The grounds keeper... watch out for him... she hisses.

You grab the first thing handy, and throw the rag at it in disgust hoping to blind it.  The handful of screws that follows it, gets you to focus enough to pick a weapon rather than grabbing for the nearest thing handy, and you find nothing...but then you wrench out a drawer full of papers from the desk in the office, and smash it alongside the killer dog's head.

It slumps, and wobbles as it gets back to its feet, and with a last convulsive effort, you switch direction on it, and swing the drawer back this time from right to left, and smash it across the face.

It goes down, and stays down.

Trembling, you push its head out the door, and quickly shut the door. Perhaps ten seconds later, you hear a shot, and then some scraping, and then the door opens.

Mr. Hickok jerks open the door with a smoking pistol in his hand....

PT

This reply... I do not think it means what you think it means...
This message was last edited by the player at 03:21, Thu 08 Dec 2005.

OOC: <thinks> Maybe I could sell the notion it is another of those bizarre time slips...

I've been having connection problems much of the night.  I don't know if Tomas is still having them, btw.

IC:

"The grounds keeper is dead. Cecily yelled at the other Doberman as it came after you, and it suddenly went for the keeper. Broke his neck clean.  I shot it.  Mr. Wintham's rifle accounted for another escapee.  And you got this one."  He pauses, and then looks more closely.

"Kate, what happened to your face?"

He says as you realize you're feeling light-headed, and sway sideways as Mr. Hickok begins bellowing for help...The world seems to retreat to a gauzy distance, and you hear a faint...

"Oh dear, arterial bleeding, luckily not any higher, or she'd be dead already."  Strange dreams begin to beset you as you are hustled up to the house, after your leg is tourniquetted with Mr. Wintham's tie.

PT

Kate tries to tell them what she learned and what happened, but staying awake is hard.

"... Don't tie it... too tight... don't want to lose the leg... "

She's not sure if she says it aloud or not.  She tries to tell them what happened but its hard to tell what's real and what's not.  What she woudldn't give for a quick clot kit.

She feels so light headed.  'Calf muscle...'

When she does wake up, she's afraid to look at her leg...



(OOC I'd by that for a dollar! - My connection problems were this morning... and fortunately fleeting (otherwise I'd have to have driven into the office))

You dream of blackness alive, writhing in the Abyss between the stars, of pain combined with intelligence both to the nth degree, of small little campfires that are the twinkling stars where feeble creatures huddle close to stay warm, and to tell themselves stories that the monsters don't live in the dark.  But one by one, the stars wink out...and then you are on Earth looking up as something with million tentacles, and a thousand eyes formed of shadow and mire, filling you with the utmost loathing, and leaving you shaking with terror begans to eat the sun...

You turn in your dream to see Mr. Hickok open fire on the thing, and the others join him...

And then you wake to the sound of gunshots.  For a moment worried, but then you hear the cries of target shooters, and are relieved.

Feeling tremulous, you check your leg.  Its still there.  Its sore, but seems fine, although checking under the bandages reveals that you are going to possess a ten inch long scar now.  You feel pretty good, but thirsty, and a bit weak.

PT

Kate blinks as tries to focus on what has happened, the vision, and the dream.  The only thing she feels is a numb relief.  She's alive... she's in one peice... and the grounds keeper hasn't had the chance to make up anything about what happened.

She thinks of the 'last world' and the many tentacled thing, 'I can't even fight off a single dog...'  She sits up slowly favoring her leg, and moving slowly.  She experimentally moves her left arm, unsure of everything at the moment.

She looks around.  The target shooting proves that life does go on... so at least there is that.



(OOC - Okay, I admit... I checked for a Post Ludum first.  Glad to still be here)

Cecily comes strolling in with a cup of water.

"Hello. Oh, Kate, you had me so worried. You got so hot, and you kept crying out in such fear while you were sleeping." She puts the glass down, and hugs you.  "We had to put you in bathtub full of ice and alcohol night before last."

Feeling a bit dazed, you ask her how long you've been asleep. She tells you that its been three nights you slept, and now on the third day, like Christ you are risen.

"Of course, you didn't actually die. Although we were all scared for a while.  And that nasty doctor wanted to give you electric shock to 'cure you' But Mr. Wintham dragged him out of the room by his hair."

PT

Kate blinks in disbelief, thankful that the others were there to take care of her.  "Electro.. shock... " she says, realizing her throat is dry.  She takes a sip of the water.  "For a dog bite?" She asks incredulously.

She looks around, and sits up some more.  "Thank you Cecily... for everything"

As she tries to find out what's happened, she puts a hand to her face where she'd bee hit, wondering how bad that looks, and then it all comes back to her, the rage and madness in the groundskeeper's eyes, his insults echoing in her head... and the images as she looked at him after she broke away.  She wasn't how much of it was shock and how much of it was... the 'weirdness' that others talked about.

"What have I missed?" she asked finally.

"The 'doctor' thought your fever was a nervous condition, out of proportion with the injury, and that it was basically in your head.  So you needed to have your mental problems cured."  Cecily explains rolling her eyes.

You feel gauze on your face when you touch it.

"You have a burn, with some blisters,not many, maybe eight or nine, on your face, in the shape of a handprint.  We've been covering it with vaseline, and a bandage."  She gulps.  "I don't like to look at it. When I do it seems to talk to me.  But not in any language I know."

"The others they forbid me from going into the office. They said I had a fit.  They won't even tell me what they found."

PT

Kate nods when Cecily talks about not wanting to look at it.  She touches the bandage again.  "He... hit me... "

She shakes her head.  "He said some nasty things... and..." she shivers slightly.  "Do you know where my journal is?  I... I'd like to write it out... it helps me put things into perspective, she explains.

"The groundskeeper's office?" Kate asks, then shakes her head again.  "I wish I hadn't gone there."

She nods towards Cecily wryly indicating her face and then she freezes as something clicks into place.  'He 'hit' me... but I'm burned not... bruised... '

She let out a slight gasp.  'the fire within us all...'

She shivers slightly.  "I need to talk to the others... to warn them.. "
This message was last edited by the player at 03:59, Fri 09 Dec 2005.

"I'll get it. Right away." She dashes out of the room, and fetches your notebook along with a fountain pen.

Once back she listens further.

"No, its Mr. Lanton's office. The old guy who bought this place. I don't think anyone's really looked at the groundskeeper's office." She thinks for a bit, and then shakes her head. "No, no one has."

"I'll go get the Professor, because you're not decent."  Cecily gets up, and comes back about five minutes later with Eustace.

Eustace shoos Cecily away, and then sits down on a wooden chair near your bed, with a notebook and pencil ready.

"The cook will be in here in a few minutes with breakfast. How are you feeling?"  Eustace is speaking slowly, and clearly, keeping a tight eye on you.

PT

Kate writes what she remembers until Eustice arrives.

Kate smiles at her, and then gives her a slightly amused smile.  "Professor... I was sick, and fevered... that tends to make one more than a little dellusional. If you and the others hadn't broken the fever, I could have been addled or brain damaged, but I believe I am still as stables as I ever was..."

"The book I read... the one I told you about..."  She pauses remembering that its been three days for them.  "It spoke of the 'fire  within'... When I spoke with the grounds keeper... he talked of...

She stopped remembering all the things he'd accused her of... the threats... the slurs.  'He said Mr. Lanton mooned over the 'first girl' and it got worse from there... when he hit me... my skin burned... I felt the impact well after he hit me. Whatever they were into... its very bad, and very powerful."

She pauses knowing she's trying to do a core dump on Eustice and stops.  "You have to be very careful in that room."

She hands Eustice her journal.  "This is what I remember... "

The Professor reads your journal, and her face tightens.

"Ah, child, I'm sorry. Most people are not like this.  But worse, he must have helped Mr. Lanton in his magic, or done some himself.  That often has bad effects on people's minds."

She puts the journal down, and a servant comes in with eggs, and biscuits, milk, and a bit of mild ham.  Gentle food to help you recover.

"We have looked into that room. Its, well. Odd. The desk looks to be made of good oak, but it crumbles like its sawdust.  And we found a plant that is utterly dead despite it having an  ingenious automatic water supply system.  I would say the office was Mr. Henry Lanton's working room.

The English relatives are refusing to leave.  Now they are claiming that Miss Lanton is not really a legitamate child, and they are the rightful heirs.  They are airing to one and all Mr. H. Lanton's practise's as a womanizer.  I'm afraid poor Mr. Lanton's reputation is going to suffer.

They refused us the right of looking further into the office, and would have kicked us off the estate, but you were sick.  Miss Lanton has just crumpled. She spends her time in bed, and offers no resistance to any of their demands save that she refuses to leave her room.

PT

Kate listens and shakes her head.  "They were leaving, until this happened, and unless they know about this... " She shakes her head

"Miss Lanton is not guilty of her father's... anything.  But her family-- They must know something if they're keeping you out of the office... If they have enough time they can fabricate everything... use... whatever it is in there.  From what I remember it can be used to control others, espeically womem... to capture their fire.  The desk sounds almost like something consumed... Like Mr. Lanton himself..."

Memory of the way his foot crunched when she stomped on it... decay...

She shakes her head.  "I need to talk to Miss Lanton... We need to talk to her. If she does not take control now, they will take it from her."

"I don't think they planned this. Neither of them has more talent than a lump of coal. Its just that when you collapsed, Miss Lanton collapsed, and they jumped on the opportunity like good little vultures.

Indeed, I feel we need to get into that office.  And we need to have you talk to Miss Lanton. Straighten her out.

But, the nobles are working hard at turning the servants against us, assisted by those two quacks, I'm afraid.  It might be hard to get to see Miss Lanton or the office.

Mr. Hickok is for simply forcing the issue with gun in hand."

PT

Kate looks at the professor and nods.  Perhaps she is seeing more than there is, but she does know that if they don't see Miss Lanton and get her to stand on her own, her relatives will take everything from her... or worse, turn over her 'treatment' to Dr. Shock and the marvelous Mr. Wonder.

"I'd like to report the good doctor to a review board," she says and then pauses.  "Maybe I should get some more food down in the kitchen I doubt the good Lord Morris and Lady Clemance would be caught dead there... It might be a good place to start..."

She's already talked to some of them and if they see her, get to talk to her, or overhear her talking... she might be able to get the servants to see that they are not the enemies.

Kate trembles slightly.  She'd come far too close to being the victim... Then she works to stand.  She has to do this on her own...

You push yourself to your feet, waving back the Professor's ready arm with a jerky motion, and then stand there wobbling.  Remembering to breathe, you grown more steady, and while its slightly embarrassing, the Professor is too quick with the slippers, and you are now shod.

At first you are acting more like a beginning ice skater, but by the time you get to the first staircase, you are standing upright fully, except for clinging to the railing.

Once in the kitchen, you stand up, looking almost normal, as long as you don't move.  The servants give you big, if gentle grins as they continue washing pans, and peeling potatoes.

They are less friendly to the Professor who is standing at the edge of the kitchen in the doorway, but they don't chase her off, merely glancing her way.

PT

Kate smiles back at them, grateful to be alive.  She moves towards the cook and thanks her for the meal and asks if she can have 'just a little more.'

She doesn't push anything just yet, she's trying to find out what they've heard and what they think.

She tries not to be self concious about the bandage, but she is... and all too aware of how lucky she was that things didn't go worse.

No one quite looks at you, but they hesitantly mention that 'the relatives' think they are dreadfully underpaid, and that anyone who doesn't help them is 'disloyal to Miss Lanton, and should be fired, and blackballed.'

They're nervous. They really would prefer not to be in this situation, and perhaps there is more, but then one of the younger cooks comes in and starts ordering everyone around, and hustling them out of the kitchen so you will be alone.

"Thats the new head. The old guy, the butler, he quit. In disgust."  One young guy murmurs behind his shoulder as he passes you.  The new 'head' whirls, and looks searchingly while everyone does their best to look bland.

"No talking. I want to see work. Not chatter. Move you lazy scullywugs!"

PT

Kate winces at this, since the Groundskeeper seemed to have the same attitude towards the servants.  She sits down and focuses on her food.  She knows she has to talk to Miss Lanton because its not just her life and freedom that are at risk.

The servants watch out for her, they are her household and her relatives are ruining them as well.  Treating them like they were... well... lazy scullywugs... whatever those were.

She eats slowly, not trying to hide her exhaustion now.  She still works to do things on her own-- but she isn't as determined about it.  She smiles at the new cook and compliments them as well.  She slips slightly as she gets up head back to bed, 'Needing Eustace's help.

She knows that the injured/convalescing are less threatening than the healthy.  Now she needs to figure out if the relatives have figured out which 'side' she's on yet or not.

She opts to play up how this sort of thing would never have happened in Singapore... and the fact that it is an English Protectoate... she hopes it still is here.

The cook accepts the compliment.

"Yes, well we need to take a firm hand with this lot.  Get them to work. They are a bunch of lazy goofballs."  So saying the cook plumps herself down at the table, and then exasperatedly looks around for someone to get her something, but realizes she chased everyone away.  So she gets up, and gets herself a snack.

"Been working hard." She says, and studies you while you look wan and exhausted. After a bit, she nods in approval at your weakened state, although she's not trying to portray that attitude.

Eustace is doing her best to bite her lip, and her eyes are pure black from anger.

Eustace takes you up stairs to a waiting room, and then goes to summon the 'relatives'.  They come in, and ooze sympathy while focusing on how soon you can leave.

PT

Kate gives them the look of a woman who's believe in the safety and goodness of the world has been shattered.

"I... I fear I can barely make it to the kitchen and back right now... it will be a few days until I am ready to travel.."

She paues and then gives them a hopeful look.

"I am... sorry I have delayed your leaving, but perhaps it is better this way... perhaps... Miss Lanton would be safer in England."

She doesn't say it, but her eyes all but scream 'This would not have happened in Singapore'.

She bows her head.  "Is it... too late to talk to her in this matter."

They are so sweetly sympathetic, it almost chokes you.  They will be glad to have you and your friends stay a few more days.  Meanwhile, why don't they bring you up to Miss Lanton so the two of you can enjoy a nice private conversation.

By this time, you're biting your lip.

"Yes, dearie, in the Raj, or South Africa, or even where did you say you were from, well anyways, it would not have happened there.  Its only here in the Colonies, this crude, barbarian giant where a lady would suffer such an indignity."

Then they go on to tell you a few horror stories of people not bowing to them, and one guy even being rude enough to tell the Lord Morris to go get his own horse in the rain.

"Really."  Lady Clemence says. "And he wasn't dressed right either. Rather poor clothing, and worse manners. And the people here spit tobacco on the ground, and eat their food like starvling pigs...if love for my dear niece did not compel me, I would be on a boat back somewhere, anywhere post haste."

They take you up to see Miss Lanton, and leave you with her.  She is reading some poetry to herself while laying in bed.

PT

Kate is relieved to be left alone with Miss Lanton.  It will, hopefully, make what she has to say easier.  But first, she has to get Miss Lanton to see that her decisions didn't effect just her, and that if she kept this up it was just a matter of time before her relatives did take over and take everything... and how the people who depended on Miss Lanton were the ones who were going to pay.

She gave Miss Lanton a shy smile, keeping the bandaged side of her face away.  "How are you holding up?" She asked in a gentle voice

She comes over to you crying, and asking if you are okay.

PT

Kate gently holds the young woman, stroking her hair and gently reassuring her.  "Its okay... everything is fine... " she says.

When Miss Lanton is calmer Kate looks at her and smiles.  "None of this was your doing or your responsibility..."

She gives her that 'you know I'm right' look, with a reassuring, if slightly lopsided smile.

"And from what I've been told.. I'm going to be all right"  She gives Miss Lanton one of her strongest most reassuring looks.  "Sometimes life doesn't happen like you planned... but that's when you have pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and figure out what you could have done differently and don't make the same mistakes again... "

She smiles and winks at Miss Lanton.  "I'm still at the figuring it out stage... "

"How about you?"

"The dreams, the dreams..." She bends over and sobs.  "They begin to fill my waking mind. I fear I truly am going mad."

She gets up, clenches your hand briefly, and then walks over to the window calming herself.

"I don't have the strength to fight anymore. When I met you, I saw someone that could be my friend.  And your friends offered me hope.  But then you almost died, and it is my fault. If I hadn't let that nasty old man keep his killer dogs, as if anyone would dare rob this place with over ten servants here at any time..."

She gnaws on her knuckle.

"I fear I am in no shape to fight anymore."

She slumps down against the wall, and then her head jerks up.

"Charlie?"

She asks the far wall.

PT

Kate remains gentle and giving through out the conversation.  "Miss Lanton, what happened wasn't your fault, and it was the grounds keeper's doing, not yours, not even the dogs.  If the truth be told... The dogs were a far better fate than what he had planned... "

In spite of herself Kate shutters.

"Miss Lanton, you have to fight... if not for yourself, then for those people depending on you.  The servants you spoke of... they care about you... they are more than just people who work for you... they depend on you... as you should depend on them... already you aunt and uncle are taking over their lives... If you cannot fight for yourself.. fight for them... We can help you, but you have to let us.. you have to be willing to fight."

She pauses thinking about what Miss Lanton has said under hypnosis and is snapped out of her thoughts when she turns to the wall and speaks to Charley.

"Do you hear him now?" Kate asks.

She doesn't know if she's getting through to Miss Lanton, but this is another clue... fire and burning has taken up too much of a recuring theme to be anything other than a common thread tying it all together.

If they can get her to ask him what is going on... try...

"I'll try, Kate, I'll try." Miss Lanton says softly.  "But I'm not sure what to do."  Her forehead wrinkles up as she tries to consider a battle plan.  But the effort strains her thin reserves.

"Charlie, oh Charlie, you have to get out.  You can't let them do that to you."

She shrugs in a way that seems very unlike her. A bigger motion than she would make, and a weary motion.

"Don't make no mind. Missy. Just the things that the Good Lord puts before you to do."  The deep rolling masculine voice that comes from Miss Lanton's mouth shoots your eyebrows up in surprise.

PT

Kate feels a cold chill go up her spine and then she turns, trembling slightly.

"Charley?  Where are you?  What can we do?"

She waits, her palms growing sweaty as she tries to decide if she's hoping for an answer or afraid of one.

The ocean-deep voice comes again, and you're reminded with a moment of stark fright mixed with hysterical laughter crawling up out of the back of your brain of James Earl Jones.

Of.."This is CNN."  That deep, resonant, authoritive voice...

"My mother loved him very much. Sent love letters to him for every holiday. Said he was fine. Real fine. Was real sad to hear that he waned, and died."

"Yes, Charlie, I know. I think Papa loved her too.  He often went 'a-milling' as he called it with a smile on his face."

And then she totters, and like a natural motion begins to collapes to the floor, and you fling yourself off the bed to catch her.

PT

Kate launches herself without thinking, and the pain almost makes her stop, but she pushes herself, gently guiding (or trying to guide) Miss Lanton back to the bed and keep her from a) hurting herself, b) alerting the relatives that something's happened.

She gently rubs Miss Lantons wrists, trying to bring her back to herself. "Miss Lanton?  It's Kate, can you hear me?"

All the while Kate is trebling as the peices are fitting together in her mind.

Miss Lanton's eyes open, and she looks deeply puzzled to be laying there in your arms.

After you explain to her what happened, she claims to not remember it at all.

She seems exhausted, and you help her back to bed, and before you can raise her covers to her chest, she is snoring.

The Professor slips in, and motions you out.  Once outside in the hallway, she closes the door, and very quietly says to you.

"I overheard. I think we must definitely assume Charlie is real. The question is where is he.  Now, please enlighten me as to your theories, and then I will tell you mine."

PT

Kate takes a deep breath and nods.  She can feel the chill running down her spine, something that tells her that not matter how unbelievable it all is... it is very very real.

"Let's start with my sources," she says.

First, when Miss Lanton spoke under hypnosis, she spoke of Charley and ended with a screaming about, 'it burns... it burns.'""

Even as she speaks she is writing the information down.

""Next, the book I found in the room, the one about magic, and the 'fire within', and the room itself.  From what Cecily tells me the desk crumbled like it was dust... perhaps burned within.  There are reports of one of the servants cleaning the room, and almost wasting away to nothing.... and Mr. Lanton being robust until he wasted away himself."

"Then there was the grounds keeper.  He spoke of Mr. Lanton sharing a love of 'things black' and how 'it's not adultery if the woman isn't completely human... "  She shivers, running a hand up her arm.  "He spoke of Mr. Lanton going to the mills, and appologizing... when there was nothing wrong..."

"The man was strong, his grip on my arm was hard enough that... I felt it my bones... when I screamed and stamped on his instep, I heard something break... he screamed and hit me, and as I pulled away, I THEN felt as if I'd been hit... and where he hit me... I wasn't bruised, but burned... "

Unconciously her hand moves towars the bandages.  "He was screaming and calling me... terrible things... I think I qualified in his book as 'not quite human'... good enough to bed, not good enough to take home to mother... "

"I don't know how much was shock and how much was reality, but when I looked in his eyes, I didn't see anything normal... I saw... a vision?  of men in trenchcoats shooting down the dead."

"If that 'human' and 'fidelity'  belief weren't just his-- and you believe the grounds keeper's dillusions had some founding in reality, then it could be that Mr. Lanton was 'going a milling'... and that goes with what Miss Lanton just said... and that there is the possibility of a brother in there, or a brother in another reality... "

She looks up at the professor, hoping she wasn't leaving anything out, and that what she was telling her was painting the same sort of picture that was forming in her mind.

"Then there is Charley and The woman listed in the book by name... and the 'first one'... and then what just happened... I think she's seriously in tune with something, and lord only knows how much time she's spent in the room... it may be helping her 'waste away' as well... <blue>"

She shakes her head.  "<blue>It's like Mr. Winham said-- they were messing with things that they shouldn't have been, and it wasn't just them... SOmeone mentioned whoever owned this house before them... so that may be the fidelity/brother link..."

She lets her breath out slowly.  "It all comes back to fire, and passion, and its comsuming the people involved and those around it.  The groundskeeper was a shell of a man... Mr. Lanton 'wasted away', a servant suffernt the same conditions after cleaning the office... The desk in the office... it looks solid enough but it crumbles... as if... consumed?"

She shrugs.  "But... I could be wrong."  Her expression says 'but I'm not and I'm not sure I like that'.  She waits for the professor to take it all in and comment on what she's just said.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:38, Wed 14 Dec 2005.

"I believe this Charlie is Mr. Lanton's son by way of one of his black female employees at one of his milltowns.  I'm not sure which of the three it is.  Maryville, Lantonsburg, or Cotton City.

It definitely looks like Mr. Lanton conjured up some sort of fire.  And he feared that it had touched Miss Lanton, made her sensitive.

I don't understand what the fixation with Charlie and the police is, but it seems like something bad is about to happen to Charlie, and that is disturbing Miss Lanton.

So, do you have a suggestion as to how we decide which milltown we are going to?"

PT

Kate nods. "We're on the same page, she agrees.

Letting her breath she thought about what the professor had said.  "If we can find out which town he went to the most, especially in the off seaons..." She's thinking out loud.

After a minute she pulls out her journal, and looks at the odd notes that were at the bottom of the last marked page in the book she was looking at them hoping they would suddenly make sense in light of what had happened.

"Under hypnosis, Miss Lanton used the name "Mrs. Roger Sommerset"  She also spoke of losing her heart on the Somme... She showed me a picture of him in the office... that name could have been hers if he'd lived..."

Kate shakes her head.  "We could ask Miss Lanton... "

She looks at the professor.  "I don't want to leave her alone, and I don't think she's up to going anywhere with us. But we need to find Charley.  "

Their best bet is finding out which of the towns Mr. Lanton frequented, and Kate said as much.

The only other option was to ask Cecily.

The Professor has you rest in your room, and then comes back several hours later.

"Mr. Wintham did some more hypnosis, and has deduced that Lantonville is our most likely destination.  Its at the southerly end of the Appalachian Mountains, a considerable trip. On a separate note, Miss Lanton has written a letter telling her relatives to 'avail themselves of the earliest opportunity to check in on the management of their English estates.'  The servants are biting their lips to keep from laughing, they are so happy, and the two connivers look like miniature thunderstorms as they stomp up and down the stairs, supervising the servants who are packing for them."

The Professor pauses. A servant comes in, grinning merrily, and puts down two mugs which smell delightful.

"Have you any further suggestions? And since I know you don't like alcohol...well...ahem....ahem..."

"Oh, yes." You hear from the door, and Mr. Wintham, Mr, Hickok and Cecily come in with their own mugs.

"A toast, dear Kate, to your very good health, and to your skill at investigating."  Mr. Wintham says, and they all raise their mugs...

PT

Kate lay down thinking it would be impossible for her to be able to settle down.  She was surprised when the Professor returned so soon, only to find that she had slept.

"I guess I was more tired than I thought," she said quietly as she sat up and focused on what Eustace said.

The news makes her smile.  She is relieved that things are looking better for Miss Lanton and her household.  She smiles at the servant and thanks them, her smile only growing when the others show up.

She raises her cup.  "To Friends"

She feels relief wash over her.


(OOC - I would have guessed Lantonville but there was no logical reason for it... other than the ego-ish bit with having a town with your family name.)

The next two days are trying, and involve one attempt by Lord Morris to bully his way back in, but Mr. Hickok halts that with a judicious punch.  Then Lady Clemence has a hissy fit, and refuses to get up from a chair until the piano keeps playing taps with no one sitting there.  A shaken Lady Clemence is escorted out by the Professor who has hold of her elbow.

As they get in the boat, Cecily walks up to them...

"You will never own this place. A museum it shall be.  Normal people with squalling babies will walk its halls and look at the animals."

The disturbed couple head out to the De Witt Clinton being rowed by several servants. Tommorrow is the day, you go out to the beautiful steamboat, and leave this 'idyllic' manor for your trip to NYC, and then south.

PT

Kate does her best to be there for Miss Lanton during the transition.

When Cecily comments on the normal people looking at animals she smiles and hugs her.  This is what Miss Lanton wants, and from the sound of things it will be.

When Miss Lanton's controlling relatives leave, Kate breaths a sigh of relief.  She looks at Miss Lanton and the servants and smiles.  Everything is as it should be... or at least will be.

She has hope, and that is a very powerful thing.  Kate works on building back her strength and catching up on what happened while she was unconscious.  Kate makes sure her things are ready for the trip.  Then she takes a walk down to the shed.  She wants to face what was there and see if there are any other clues or memories that are stired up.

The shed looms darkly on the bright lawn, and you find yourself not wanting to go in.  But you push on, the weight of the derringer in your purse is suddenly a comfort.

It takes a deliberate effort of the will to reach out and touch the door to the shed.  You notice all the dogs are gone from their kennel which looks deserted, forlorn, and yet foreboding like it wants revenge on you.

You open the door, gulp, and step inside.  The cars remain as they were.  You hear a rustling off to your right under the tables on the edges of the room.  The tools still hang from their hooks.

But there is a smell, at first faint, and then growing stronger, a smell like of dead fish, no, more precisely of a dead and rotted octopus.

PT

Kate trembles slightly as she rememberes the dream she had as she was finally waking... of the creature with many tentacles.

She stiffens as she looks to her right, trying to find what was causing the rustle.  Something in the back of her brain tells her to run, but she knows she has to face whatever this is.

She pulls out her Derringer and tries to find the source of the smell.



(OOC - IIRC in 'It came from the late, late, late show' this would come under the heading of 'acting appropriately stupid')

The room dims, you think, as you scan up and down the twin aisles between the cars, and the shelving.  The smell is hard to track down, and another rustle to your right as you move about.

With relief, you see its a rat. A rather large rat...with six legs.  It runs awkwardly underneath a car, thumpety-thump, and suddenly all the cars are honking, and an unearthly light is glowing from underneath all the cars, a ferocious brilliance that has you shading your eyes...

And you hear a confused babble of people, like thousands of voices pleading...

PT
OOC: Hehe. You good player.  Press the red button, yesssssssss....

Kate stands frozen to the spot.  Part of her wants to run away and part of her feels almost compelled to stay, to figure out what is going on.

She listens trying to understand what the voices are saying.

You hear dozens of languages, and hundreds of voices that merge into the blur of thousands...and yet you understand each and every one...

"Don't kill me, Kate, please, I have a wife, a child..." Goes one man's voice...

And then overiding them all, you see a shadow drop over you and quench the noise, a shadow like a man's body, but wrong, and the stench clots your nostrils so that you have to close your eyes, and you almost think you didn't hear a voice whisper in your ear...

"Yes, Kate, don't kill them, I need something to feed on."  And then light surges, and shadow deepens, and the world is spinning, and you find yourself on your back looking under the car as the rat digs up a bone from a grave covered by red moss, and the light and the shadow are gone.

But the rat stares at you with a conscious malice, and a grin of pleasure at your fear curves its features, and its its eyes you see something swimming to the surface....

PT

Kate trembles at this, and more than anything is the look in the Rat's eyes.  Part of her is very afraid of what she will see there, and another part of her mind is already telling her what it is.

She pulls out her derringer and aims it at the rat, watching its eyes.

Something hideous, unspeakable flickers in its eyes, and you feel a plant growing in your mind, a thing of rot, and ruin, it uncurls pushing aside your memories, your identity...and you shoot rat on the nose as it sits on your chest.  The lead bullet slaps it back on the nose, so it skids down underneath the car to rest where its body lay.

You find yourself convulsively pulling the trigger, again and again, as the empty gun clicks and clicks.

It smiles at you.

*The shadow of my shadow you have stopped, but even your gods, the Buddha and the Christ, could not stop me when I come in the fullness of my power. I have marked you. Snackfood. You belong to me.*

And then your friends come running into the shed, and you jerk your gun to shoot at them. Happily its empty.

"Whoa. Whoa." Mr. Wintham says. "Breathe, Kate. Kate, start breathing."

PT

Kate stares at them blindly hearing only the voice taunting her, and the echoing call of the voices saying 'Don't Kill me'

"Can't... can't let it... gain power... "

It takes what seems like a lifetime for her to find her way out of the nightmare, and then she's staring at her friends.  She looks up at them pleadingly.

"This.. this was only the start... "

She tries to tell them what happened, but she just can't convey the terror.  She looks around at them, unsure.  "Can you smell it?  Did you hear... see... anything??"

Still its words haunt her, but moreso the invasion of her mind... she feels... unclean.

She bites her lip, knowing she needs to tell them what happened, but being unsure where to start.

"I smell a dead rat. Gunpowder. Nothing more."  Mr. Wintham looks under the car, and pulls out the rat by its tail.  It looks commonplace except its head is disintegrated.

"Nice shooting." Mr. Hickok says.  The Professor comes around and hugs you, and Mr. Wintham fishes a flask out of his jacket.  He presses it on you, opening the top.

"We do believe you Kate. Frequently these things manifest, and then fade. They can't properly exist in our number of dimensions. But drink up. There's a time to be abstemious, but this isn't one of them. A bit of whiskey would be good for you right now."  Mr. Wintham adds as he drops the rat by its tail into a burlap bag Mr. Hickok is holding.

PT

Kate does not need to be convinced to take a healthy drink from the flask.  Her hands are trembling, and again the vision of the many tentacled creature devouring the earth comes to her.

She takes another sip from the flask as she tries to gather her thoughts together.  The others have to know so that if anything happens to her, they will be able to carry on here.

She takes a deep, but trembling breath.  "You now how you spoke of the dark things out in the space where you went... I think this was one of them.  It says that I have stopped only the shadow of his shadow... and that if it comes to its full power... it will be unstoppable even by God... "

She looks at them, her eyes pleeding.  "I.. I felt it put something in my mind... felt it grow... keeping me from what made me... me.... It says it has marked me-- that I belong to it..."

Her mind is a whirl as she tries to process the full picture, at the same time part of her is trying to keep it from coming to the conclusion that she already has.

According to Cecily she can stop this with one word... and then she would plead for Kate not to kill her.

The only word she can think of is 'No!'

"Mr. Wintham... I felt it touch my mind, I have to learn how to stop it... I need to make sure that it cannot take me... what can I do?"

She knows she's not making sense, but she has to make sense of it...

She takes another sip of the wiskey.