The Universe's Mixer

Fred had been busy since the last whitewashing. The hero and the damsel were back on the horse, and this time the hero had no face, no hair, nothing particularly identifiable. Sure, that might have been strange, but Fred was beginning to think that the staff was copying her figures. She didn’t like that they would know her story, that they might try to tell it or retell it. She didn’t like it one bit, so she stopped making the hero look like anyone in particular. The equations and bits of writing around it, on the other hand, seemed more intricate. There was a confidence that hadn’t been there before, or maybe an acceptance? The lettering wasn’t as shaky; the lines more defined.

Fred looked clean, just washed up, and she seemed to be a little more comfortable? Or more she didn’t feel so very alone. Harry had been a bit of a boon, and she was even thinking of leaving her room for a meal outside again. She might have to eat on her own, but it would be outside-ish. She was even considering making her way out of the building completely to the courtyard, which would have been a definite change of pace.

For now, though, she was busy working out an energy exchange that might allow for transportation between two places. It was what she imagined the rudimentary physics that allowed for the Star Trek transporters, but there had to be something more to it that she just wasn’t seeing. Harry had inspired her to think of this as well. Mass/matter transport and the power it would take...

( This could work. )

He missed his guitar, he missed his guitar a lot. In fact at the moment Oz was sitting on a bench in the hallway and moving his fingers like he was playing chords. Yes, it was an imaginary guitar, that he was playing, but he wanted to do something, and acting like he was playing an imaginary guitar was doing something. And focusing on moving his fingers over those imaginary chords more or less kept him from thinking about last night.

Last night he had tried to get the wolf to come out and hadn't been able to. There was irony there, Oz could acknowledge that. Whatever they had him on here, it was keeping the wolf very much at bay. To think, he had traveled all the way to Tibet to learn the basics of being able to keep the beast inside him under wraps, and all it took was some sort of cocktail of drugs. Who knew. Or maybe he should have guessed, because the wolf could be tranquilized, so it wasn't like modern medicine didn't have an effect on it.

Sitting on the bench, Oz glanced up and looked around. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to be out here, or if this was some sort of loitering. But the bench had been in the hall, and what were benches for if not to be sat upon? So when he had wandered out of his room and down the hall and seen the bench, he had decided to sit. The scenery hadn't changed that much from what he saw in his room, but it was nice to get out of the room he had been spending his time in.

But right, time to focus on the imaginary chords on his imaginary guitar. The nice thing about playing an imaginary guitar was that he could nail that imaginary E flat, diminished ninth chord.