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Post by Phoenix on Mar 24, 2006 19:11:21 GMT -5
Jean, in the MedLab, was literally burning the midnight oil as the clock on the wall ticked past 12:00 am. Scattered papers, test tubes of clear solutions and a couple microscopes in front of her, along with a computer, she was obviously in the middle of a couple of things. Sitting back in her chair to rub her eyes with the back of her hand, her brow furrowed in frusteration. She had been running the Institute's newest, amnesia-ridden resident's (John Doe's) DNA, prints, retinal scans, everything she could, and had come up with nothing. Plenty of missing persons, but it was all.... Inconclusive. In-bloody-conculsive. Sighing, Mrs. Grey looked around her usually orderly workspace and sighed. Something was off. She could feel it, she just didn;t know what, and it had been bothering her for a week now. Ah, well. Pushing aside some test tubes she reached for a stack of papers and began to page through them slowly.
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Post by John Doe on Mar 25, 2006 1:44:25 GMT -5
John entered and sat down in a chair near her. "You're up late," he smiled. "Anything I can help with? I figured I'd stop by and see if you needed anything before I headed for home."
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Post by Phoenix on Mar 25, 2006 1:51:15 GMT -5
Jean looked up from her research with his entrance and gave him a weary smile. "Oh, hello John. And no, not neccesarily..." Grabbing a pen and circeling something, then tossing the papers onto the desk in a very defeated fashion, letting a sigh escape her lips. Apparently lost in thought for a moment, she then looked up, as if suprised to see John there, but she quickly lapsed back into her normal self. "John, do you have anything you want to talk about?" She asked gently, not probing.
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Post by John Doe on Mar 25, 2006 1:56:22 GMT -5
"Nothing... specific," John said leaning forward in his seat and resting his arms on the desk, shifting through the papers a little. He looked back at her, unintentionally giving her puppy-dog eyes, "I was wondering ...if... you could read my mind again."
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Post by Phoenix on Mar 25, 2006 2:00:11 GMT -5
"I-" Jean subconciously bit her lower lip, in yet more unwanted thoughts. God, if she could just stop doing that for two minutes... "Yes. I could try." But something nagged at her, at the back of her mind; If you slip, you could hurt him. If you make a mistake, he could... /You're tired, Jean. Don't./ She argued with herself. But she forced a smile. "Yes. I'll do it. Here, face me and get comfortable."
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Post by John Doe on Mar 25, 2006 2:06:07 GMT -5
John moved his chair closer to Jean and faced her. He closed his eyes trying to relax.
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Post by Phoenix on Mar 29, 2006 0:27:44 GMT -5
Situating her hands an inch from either side of his head, she closed her own eyes and exhaled gently. *~ Bring me back to the first thing you can remember. As far back as you can. ~* She slipped past his natural mental defenses and made her presence as small as possible.
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Post by John Doe on Mar 29, 2006 0:34:53 GMT -5
John thought about waking up on Horseshoe Island. He was naked an alone in a clearing of trees. As his eyes came into focus it became clear he was color blind. He began to run, but slipped. He slid down the hill until he flew off the edge into the icy cold water below.
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Post by Phoenix on May 2, 2006 22:39:59 GMT -5
As Jean 'watched' this memory, she began to search for what she thought of as 'threads', other memories connected to one through sensory perception. But there was none. From what she could see, this was the cleanest mindswipe she'd ever encountered. *~ Okay, John. ~* She said, her astral form appearing next to him in the water, as he lived this memory. *~Show me what happened next. ~*
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Post by John Doe on May 3, 2006 21:45:13 GMT -5
John swam. He swam and he swam until his muscles gave out. While nearly choking on the cold water, John managed to spot a piece of driftwood. He quickly latched onto it, clinging for dear life. Then, everything got hazey and dark. Everything slowly came back into focus. Men... A boat... They were pulling him on board and quickly covering him with coats and blankets. One handed him something to drink, but it was difficult to hold, his hand was shaking. They were talking. "Where am I?" John asked. He coughed, hacking up whatever he had just drunk. "Off the coast of Seattle," was the response. "You speak Khmer?" another asked. John briskly shook his head, "Khmer? No, I don't." Still another smirked and looked him in the eyes, "But you are speaking it." "I don't know what you're -" John paused, a puzzled expression crossed over his face. "I guess... I do speak it..."
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Post by Phoenix on May 6, 2006 23:34:21 GMT -5
*~ And you didn't know these men at all.~* Pondered Jean. as she watched, she waited for familiar flashes linking this to other memories. Any memories before this. Just the slightest, vaguest memory, anything she could work off of.... *~Okay. where did they take you?~*
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Post by John Doe on May 6, 2006 23:45:09 GMT -5
They were at the port now. Men were everywhere unloading their boat and dumping fish into buckets of ice. A team of paramedics surrounded John and he was strapped, semi-comfortably to a stretcher. Nearby, a child was blowing a pinwheel. "How many fingers to do you see?" a paramedic asked, waving his hand in front of John's face. "Four," John replied. "The thumb's destingished (something) filanges bones is technically not considered a finger." "Okay... You know what day it is?" John looked up at the sky, breifly studying the sun over head, "Tuesday, September fourteenth, nine thirteen and twenty-two seconds." The paramedic looked at one of his colleges, puzzled. He checked his watch, then looked back at John. "Who are you? What's your name?" "I... don't know."
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Post by Phoenix on May 15, 2006 19:08:28 GMT -5
Jean was silent, watching and waiting for something to jump out at her. As her ethreal form walked around the 'memory', she surveyed the faces of the paramedics. Even if she did track them down, what more could they tell her? So she turned to carefully inspect the faces, and the psychic imprint, of the many people on the dock. Nothing, or anything unusual was very well-hidden. *~ Okay. Go on. ~*
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Post by John Doe on May 16, 2006 15:11:44 GMT -5
(Oh dear... you're setting yourself up on this one. Lucky for you there is a tiny, itty bitty little hint... at the end of this episode.... I'll try and get as much of it out in as few sittings as possible.... Oh won't this be exciting.)
Dressed in a long raincoat, gollashes and fishing pants the fishermen had kindly given him, John walked briskly into the Police Department. He navigated through the people filling in and out of the office and walked up to the woman behind the counter. He cleared his throat, "I need to report a missing person." The woman didn't even look up from whatever paper work it was she was filling out, "Filled out form 3021-B?" "I'm the missing person." "Come again, honey?" "I...don't remember who I am." The woman looked up at him, slightly shocked, "If only I was so lucky." She reached behind her desk and pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to John.
John strolled down the street, glancing to and fro at the people that bustled by him, a cappucino stand and a t-shirt salesman. Suddenly, something caught his attention. His reflection in a shop window. He stood there for a moment, for the first time looking himself in the eyes. He noticed something else. On his chest, right on his collar bone was a brand. He had no idea what it meant. "Hey buddy!" his thoughts were interupted by a man in a car which had stopped near him. "Hey!" John turned to face him. "Do you know the way to West Lake Center?" "Go straight point 3 miles turning right on Pike heading south southwest for point 2 miles, veer left at mile marker 29, 2 hour parking on the east side of (something) Point viaduct." "Yeah... Thanks..." Slightly miffed, the man put his car into gear and drove off.
"The Seattle Public Library will be closing in one hour." A voice echoed above John's head as he manuvered through the crowd up to the library's front desk. "Hi there," the boy at the front of the line said to the middle-aged woman behind the desk, "I was just wondering if-" John cut him off and (unintentionally) pushed him to the side. He looked the librarian in the eyes, "Ask me a question." "Hey!" the boy protested, but John ignored him. The librarian stared at him blankly. "It's an experiment," he clarified. "Okay... what's your name?" John shook his head, "Not that one, something else." “I’m really quite busy,” the librarian said, slightly irritated and turned her attention back to the young man. “I’m looking for a book called The Golden P-” “Golden Pantheon:” John finished for him, “Essentials of Incan Pottery, copyright 1963, R.E Reynolds Dewy Decimal 615.9-DC21.” The woman stared at him in amazement. He smiled modestly, “Your guess is as good as mine.” She leaned forward resting on her computer monitor, “What’s the population of Morocco?” “30,645,305. If you’d like I can break it down demographically.” “Okay,” the boy decided to play along, “How many M&M’s come in a pac-” “Plain, 60. Peanut, 25.” Quickly a crowd started together. “Come on, come on!” John said cheerfully, “Ask more questions.” “What’s the tallest mountain in the world? “Mauna Kea in Hawaii.” “No, Everest.” “Mauna Kea rises 33,480 feet from the base of the ocean. It beats Everest by a mile.” “First line in Mac Beth?” “When shall we three meet again in thunder, lightning or in rain? When the hurrly burrly is done and the battle is lost and won?” He paused and people gawked, “Sorry… that was two lines.” “When was Picasso’s Blue Period?” “1901 to 1903.” “Do the phone book again!” “White or yellow?” (pages) “What is the capital of Zimbabwe?” “Harare.” “What was Gilligan’s first name?” “Willy.” “How tall is the Statue of Liberty?” “151 feet - 403 steps to be exact.” “How many bones in the human body?” “206.” “How many dimples in a golf ball?” “336.” “When will I die?”
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Post by John Doe on May 16, 2006 16:46:17 GMT -5
That night was rough. John was alone on the street now. It was pouring rain. He stopped by a brick wall and leaned against it for a while. Down in the gutter, he spotted something. A newspaper listing of that weeks entries in the horse races.
John plopped the newspaper clipping and a fist full of pennies, nickels and any other coins he had found in front of the bookie. “413,” he said bouncing a little and grinning, “Trifecta, all of it.” “All of it?” the bookie said sarcastically as he picked up the cash. “Wouldn’t want to break the bank.” “Nine payphones, six vending machines, two fountains,” John was proud of his search.
“Eight hundred… Nine hundred… A thousand… Twelve thousand.” The bookie handed John his money for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. John smiled, “Hope I didn’t break the bank.”
“Next please,” the woman behind the desk at the Social Security office glared at John and his newly acquired clothes. Sure they weren’t really his style, but at least they weren’t fishing gear. She gave him his social security card and he promptly signed his name: John Doe.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Uh.. Doe, is it?” John smiled at the stock broker standing before him. “I understand you want to open an account… Dabble in the stock market.” “I’d like to purchase 3,000 (futures) options of (some company whose name scares me) at a price of 257 Kuna (sp?) before the (Zagreb something) Exchange opens in…” he glanced at his watch, “sixteen minutes.” “Okay, and you pulled that out of what crystal ball?” John laughed, “No crystal ball. I can’t see into the future. I merely have an understanding of bauxite mining price fluxuations along the Dalmatian Coast with a keen awareness of (something) trade restrictions.” The broker typed something into his computer and John looked at his watch again. “Fifteen minutes.”
“Now uh… a high performance race care doesn’t exactly operate like the family minivan. You uh.. Sure you can handle a test drive?” John smirked as he revved the engine, “Let’s find out, shall we?” The light turned green and the car took off… for a while. Then it jerked to a halt, then started again, then stopped. John looked around, a bit puzzled as people drove by honking their horns. “Accelerate into turns, (something something, lot’s of car jargon I don’t understand),” John smiled and pressed in the gas. This time the car moved smoothly and John maneuvered easily in and out of traffic. The dealer clung to the upholstery as the car spun around a corner. John couldn’t help but laugh as he spun the car in between two others and it neatly parallel parked itself. The dealer stared at him, trying to regain his breath. He stuttered, “W-Where did you learn to drive like that?”
John strolled down the boardwalk, taking in all the sights and sounds. “What for you?” a nearby hotdog vendor asked him. John stopped. “Polish? Spicy?” “Don’t know if I like spicy or mustard or relish or any of it,” he smiled and laughed a little. A young couple walked up to the hotdog vendor. “Hi. One spicy, no onions and one polish with pickles… Lot’s of pickles.” He smiled at his girl friend and they kissed. “Three dollars,” the vendor said and handed them their food. He then turned is attention back to John, “Which for you?” “I don’t know things that I’m supposed to know, but I do know things that I’m not supposed to know.” The vendor cocked his head to the side, beyond puzzled. John shook his head and walked away.
Later that night, John stood on the boardwalk staring out at the water, a beer in hand. Behind him he heard a noise. A dreadful noise to say the least. It took him a moment to figure out it was a piano being banged on. He turned and realized the sound was coming from a bar nearby called The Sea. Upon entering he saw a young woman standing at the piano, presumably cleaning it. She walked away as John scanned the bar. It was cozy and had two floors. There were few people inside. It looked like they were cleaning up for the night. John sat down at the piano and hit a few keys. Before he knew it he was playing a song. A familiar song. My Funny Valentine. Why did it seem like this song seem so familiar? “And who do we got here?” A man with a deep raspy voice sandy hair interrupted John’s thoughts. “I’m nobody.” “Well, nobody, you sure can bang those ivories. You wouldn’t be looking for a gig, would you? My last guy left my high and dry. My piano’s mighty lonely.” John smiled and nodded a little. The man held out his hand and John shook it. “Name’s Digger… Don’t ask.” “Name’s John… Don’t ask,” his smile widened. Digger nodded and winked at him, “Cool.” He then turn and headed back to the bar.
As John left The Sea he noticed a sign. “Loft for sale” it said. How convenient… He could live just a floor above where he worked.
(there's 15 min of the episode...)
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