The Universe's Mixer

It seemed somewhat ironic to Shepherd Book that a number of things that he needed daily were simply provided by this place where he lived, and yet when he had an emergency the thing he needed most was nowhere to be found. Admittedly, a cut finger wasn’t a true emergency. But it was definitely an annoyance when no bandages could be found.

After stopping the bleeding and determining that it wouldn’t need any trained medical attention, Book decided that perhaps he should take stock of what he had in the parsonage for such supplies and was heartily disappointed to find none. Not even an antibiotic ointment. For a body that liked to think himself prepared, that was a bit of a failing. Best to correct that now before he had a real emergency.

Which meant venturing out into The City. And hoping he could find not only what he needed, but find his way home again. It was always an adventure, and Book planned accordingly, assuming that he’d be out for some time. A short time later as he made his way across the park in search of an apothecary or a general store that would carry such supplies.

Perhaps he should not have been quite so hasty to send young Dr. Tam on his way.

Charlie was feeling pretty good as he woke up that morning. He had a free scoop of ice cream out there waiting for him; it might have been a silly thing to be happy about, but how often did one get a free scoop of ice cream from a young lady? Not that he thought about her in such terms that might get him arrested, but she was a nice young lady; too many young men and women these days had problems with authority. Charlie had problems with authority, but it was of a different nature.

The detective showered, smiling the whole while, got ready for the day (clothes and such - no shoes yet), and went down to have his usual breakfast - some sort of fruit. He was curious to see what the City would bring to him; as he opened the door to the refrigerator, he took a moment to realize that he was happy. Happiness wasn't a bad thing, but he was happy in a prison. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the cool whiteness with what looked to be a couple fruits that didn't come from Earth at all. He was happy in a prison?

"I could be happy anywhere, or content. A prison is only in the mind. The world is not a prison unless I make it so." His voice took on that singsongy nature that he'd heard on the tapes, but it held questions. Was this true? Could he make a prison a place of content?

"I should find someone and discuss this. Wish Reese were here. Perhaps Jennifer?"