Musings

[It's just before dawn. It's a hospital pay phone to her personal cell. Ring.]

Has anyone gotten lost in a dream before? I mean, say you're dreaming, then you manage to enter someone else's dream. When that happens, do you ever...forget that you're in a dream? What do you do to keep it from happening again? I'm sorry if this is taboo subject, but I just want to know what to do if it happens again.

Computer tech for hire!
Offering my services as a Nerd. I work at the Score Better, mostly, but I figure, why the hell not let some of the little people have a bit of the action?

...no? Alright. Well, that was besides the point anyway.

I can help you hook things up, take things down, get connected, be secure- you name it, if it has to do with technology, I can probably hook you up.

......and no. That wasn't intended to be a pun, it just was. Ha.

Um, anyway. Back to the point. If you need a computer guy, ask for Chris at Bathos 604. Granted, if anyone answers you'll be talking to Chris at Bathos 604, so you don't really have to ask...



...I'll shut up now. You know where to find me if you need me.

Wanted: New neighbor. Current one is an idiot. Accepting applications now: submit detailed history, list of personal interests, and schedule to A.Bourne@creations.com

Bartholomew: I don't care how vital hand-eye co-ordination is to your job, I don't want to have to listen to your stupid video game music at 2300. Some people actually sleep.

( The Seattle Times: OP-ED LETTER )

[Right at the very back of the library, below a light that flickers and does not quite illuminate the books enough to read their spines, there is a case of very particular books: high adventure mixed in amongst deep fantasy -- the old kind, prior to science fiction's flights of whimsy, this is fantasy where magic roams and adventurers bend knee before their liege. It is dim and dusty in the very back here, quiet away from the centre of the library (such as it can be called 'more quiet' when the library itself is a tomb, a crypt of silence and wordless reverence) There is an armchair drawn up to the nearest window, one where the paper shade has been bent just enough that a crack of light could chase across the pages of any book held in the lap of someone sat curled up tight inside -- it is an armchair with cracked leather arms and a soft beaten spot that looks like someone has rested bare feet there one too many times.

At the left of the case is one particular book, one she knows the librarian recommends to those who might ask for something other. It is an adventurer, sole and alone, journeying far and wide and questing -- a little like Don Quixote, if he were less sad and much less mad, and if there were the occasional fantastic beast to encounter. It is this book she selects, pulls it out and scans the library card tucked in the back just to check -- there's her name, over and over, but not another newer one. When she leaves the library, the card has an addition -- a note on the back]

( Wolf )

[This is printed in the warehouse, while Max waits for word on Luke, and while she tries not to go over Thomas' rigged car with a fine-toothed comb. It's delivered to all the regular places, and the byline is Cipher.]

( The Creations Times: TIME FOR A CHAT, SEATTLE )

[In the evening of the day of this. Cass has now had time to watch the youtube video about a dozen more times.]

Did you hear from your friend?

The girl I couldn't save, the latest one. We don't have an ID and I can't have another Jane Doe on my hands because people won't talk. She deserves better, and I need to find some answers. I've got a drawing I did but they won't even let me get the photographs out of evidence at this point. I need your help, a name, even a fake one is a place to start. Can you help?

-Kyle