The Universe's Mixer

TVs everywhere were tuning into a new station. The City had created something new, and it was rather proud of taking on a new technology. The way the Barbie and Ken look-a-likes smiled into the camera might have suggested just how proud.

"Hello, and welcome to the KWIT City News, brought to you by the City Hospital and the City Library. I'm Candy Clarion." The Barbie anchorwoman continued in her smile.

"I'm Frank Bassett. This is the KWIT City News." Ken anchorman chimed in.

"Many of the City's residents have noticed that the snow is still coming; in fact, it's starting to stick." Frank's voice boomed over the air ways; the image shifted from pretty boy smile to a scene of children playing in the falling snowflakes. Some of the children were even attempting snowmen, but not with much success.

"Wow, Frank, when was the last time we had snow?" Candy turned stiffly to her co-anchor.

"I don't know, Candy, but it sure looks fun. Windy Weatherton will be by later to let us know just how long that snow will be staying, but in other news..."

Frank and Candy fuzzed out, returning all TVs to their regular broadcasts.

Crews stood for a moment outside the station, his brow furrowing as he looked around. The street didn't look the same; perhaps he had missed something, but he didn't think so. He turned to look at the building, and it had changed. The world changed, and he would change with it. He would flow. He was a part of it all, and that thought alone brought a small smile to his lips. With a shrug, he pulled the phone from his pocket and dialed Reese, only to get a message stating that the number was not in service.

"Hmm."

The detective put the phone away and started walking; there wasn't much else to do at the moment. Plus, there was a fruit vendor on the corner. While apples weren't anything new, he found it a reliable choice. Of course, there was the star fruit beside it, but an apple was easier to handle. So, with the purchase of three apples - two in pockets and one in hand - he started off, letting himself be taken along with the crowd. He even gave one passing woman, heavy with child as they say, a smile and a genial nod.

"Ma'am."

Eventually Crews came to a stop; he looked up, to one side then the other, then down. Thinking, yes, he was thinking. Finally the sign caught his eye, or more he gave into the curiosity and read the sign.

"Hmm. To know the future. Is it fair to know the future? Wouldn't that take the surprise out of living? What if you saw the future and you didn't like it? Could you change it before it happens, or is it one of those things that no matter what you do, the future happens?" He glanced at the homeless man beside him. The homeless man stared back. Crews needed Reese; at least, she would react in some way. With a shrug, he pulled one the apples out of his pocket and handed it over to the homeless man.

"I'm going in." ( And he did. )

Rincewind shook his head and spit out a rather large clump of grass. Then he groaned.

“Where am I this time? Damn it all, doesn’t it ever end? All I wanted was to get a book out of my closet!”

( He looked around cautiously )

Wilson had ridden out the zombie furor in the hospital, treating anyone who made it through the doors for shock. He had counseled doctors, nurses, patients and total strangers. He had slept in his chair for days on end and he was looking forward to just going back to being head of Oncology.

Until, of course, he walked in the morning after the cure was discovered and saw "Dean of Medicine, Hospital Administration" on the plaque outside his door.

"No. No! I can't be Cuddy! This is wrong. Wrong. Damn it."

He sat down behind his desk and waited for it. Sure enough, about 1 minute later, a nurse came in with stacks of papers.

"Good morning, Dr. Wilson. Here are all the staff forms, equipment requests and usage, unassigned client files, clinic calender..."

Wilson tuned her out as file after file landed on his new, larger desk....of course it had to be larger, to accommodate the expanded workload!

When the annoyingly perky nurse left, Wilson grabbed his cup of coffee and gulped it down, hoping it would clear his head enough to deal with all this crap. Strangely enough, it worked a little. So did smacking his desk with his hand repeatedly for 5 minutes.

It was when he was going over equipment usage that he found something interesting. All those supplies requested by either Dr. Lecter or Dr. Tam. Something fishy was going on.

He checked out the room where all the supplies were delivered, interviewed some staff, and he thought he finally got to the bottom of it. It didn't take long to figure out that just as the cure to the zombie attacks originated in this hospital, so too must the source of the entire problem. And those two idiots were just egotistical and irresponsible enough to do it, too.

Well, they were going to have to learn a lesson, weren't they? Wilson pondered his own situation and smiled meanly. They were about to get a real taste of responsibility, and learn to live with having to report to others.

Wilson had a nurse leave memos for both of them to come see the Dean of Medicine as soon as they got in, leaned back in his chair and laughed. Then frowned as he looked over the rest of the paperwork. Sighing, he slogged his way through the rest of it.

Didi sat across from The City, her knees propped up against a table edge. Her toes tapped unnoticed inside her boots. Her head started rocking just lightly side to side. It wasn't actually quiet. Death could hear the hum of a fan, the tick of a clock and the static of white noise from a hidden camera lens. She looked back at The City and sighed, her smile sympathetic.

"You're mourning and that's okay. But they're not coming back. Keeping me here isn't going to change that."

Death slid back in her chair and stood up suddenly. If she was concerned about retaliation, she didn't appear to show it. Her boots clicked against the floor and she walked around the table until she stood behind The City. Her hand brushed through its hair and she slowly leaned forward and kissed the top of its head. The City disappeared from the police interrogation room. Death was left locked in. She glanced up at the two way mirror and waved.

"Do I get a phone call? Or is that only if I'm in jail?"

( Read more... )

(This happens prior to this)

Simon was walking on a cloud, or more he was happy that his life was actually looking up. Sure, he was still surrounded by those who were suffering from what they had done, but he had kept his promise. He had saved Jennifer. He had saved everyone. So what if Hannibal had isolated the cure to begin with, or a possible cure? Simon had discovered how it could be implemented and mass produced to save everyone who could be saved. He was the big damn hero.

With this feeling of elation, he decided that a nice quiet moment with his cup'o'soup was in order. He'd managed to find his own office, whether it was shared or not didn't matter, since his "colleagues" were out. He'd even bother with going through his messages and files. Things were certainly looking up. Well, they were looking up for a little while anyway.

As he lifted his cup to taste that salty chickeny goodness, he spotted the memo. Dean of Medicine? There was a Dean? The Hospital was a medical school? Well, that would explain a few things, he supposed. He read over the memo and nearly suffered from burns in areas no man should ever suffer burns in. The cup fell to the ground, and Simon, having learned a few things on Serenity, jumped out of the way just in time. Even Jayne might have blushed at the language Simon used. Wilson! Wilson was Dean, and Wilson was summoning Dr. Tam to his office?

Things really couldn't get worse.

He'd sent the henchmen out for something. He couldn't remember what now. He just wanted them the hell out of the asylum so he could have some time to himself. Which wasn't easy now, what with all the screaming and crying people who had been driven insane by the zombies. The whole place was filled with them. And he wasn't sure what to do with them. He sure as hell wasn't going to feed them. He wasn't even sure how they'd gotten in here.

Definitely before that nutball had impaled him with the thing that had given him life back. All of which he'd had to guess at by himself, because he'd woken up alone with a thing sticking out of him.

Still wearing the zombie makeup.

It was sort of a lot funnier now, that makeup.

Jack's head hurt. His body hurt. His face really really hurt, and he had no idea why. There was redness around his jaw and neck, but nothing more than that to tell him why there would be so much pain. The marks of redness where scratches and bites might have been on his body at one point didn't tell him much of anything either.

Everything felt like crap.

There were problems at hand. Things he should have tended to. But he was in no mood for it. No mood for any of it. He wanted all the other people to go away. Maybe they would starve to death soon. Or maybe he could get somebody to go and kill them all for him.

Where was Harley when you needed her?