The Universe's Mixer

Welcome to the rally for Gaius Baltar!

There is a stage decorated nicely in the candidate's colors, right in the heart of the Botanical Gardens. There is a table with refreshments for free, and another where you can get signs supporting your candidate to hold, or put on your lawn or in your windows, they even have bumper stickers for your car. There are balloons tied everywhere to draw your attention. There is a podium on the stage where the candidate will stand.

In his speech, the candidate will speak about:

Family values.
Education.
Economics.
His platform.

And he will answer a few questions for you!

Jake was still reeling a bit from the events surrounding the werewolf. But, as a space traveling feline, he had a high tolerance for the peculiar and the bizarre. And since cats were not opt to complain, he didn't. Instead, he went about focusing on his work, something he hadn't done in a long time. When he came upon his spaceship, not so subtly hidden on the edge of the park, he noted that it was overgrown with weeds and bushes. That made him a little bit sad. How easily he had accustomed himself to The City. How quickly he had adapted and accepted it as his home. He wasn't ashamed. After all, he had no means of escape (and neither did anyone else.) At least, no knowing means of escape. And so it was natural to find a niche for himself. (To stave off madness and despair.) And he had Lucy-Belle now. And she was a brightness in what little darkness he had found in The City.

He climbed up onto his ship and began brushing off leaves and twigs, exposing the once-shiny silver metal to the sunlight. If he could have, he would have frowned. He hadn't taken care of his ship very well, had he? He should have shown it better care, even if it was permanently grounded.

"I'm sorry, old friend," he whispered, picking up a twig between his teeth and tossing it to the ground.

He walked delicately over the ship's curved surface. A task that would have been impossible were it not for the assistance of his collar. Once on the very top of his ship, he pressed his paw against the peculiar alien markings in a secret pattern known only to ship pilots. A small hatch popped open, revealing an outer control panel.

He needed no tools. Instead, he used his telekinetic abilities to work through the wires and computer circuitry.

Maybe today he would fix something. Or, at the very least, maybe he'd manage to get the ship off the ground so he could take Lucy-Belle for a ride across The City ceiling, watching the moving buildings from above. Or, if nothing else, maybe he would just enjoy a sunny day and a bit of mental preoccupation.

After Amy Pond left the hospital room that Hannibal had met her in, he took himself into his office to study the bites she'd left on his skin. They weren't deep. Enough to bleed. There was a little bit of pain, but it wasn't bad. He'd felt worse.

Quickly, he took bacterial samples and mounted them on slides. He picked up a scalpel and removed the edges of one of the punctures to study. He did everything he could think of, scientifically, medically, to have the ability to look at these things in comparison to what he might become. To see if he could see the changes before they happened. He would need somebody else to take samples later. Henry, more than likely. Hannibal would be unable to work any apparatus as an animal.

He expected to become a wolf, as Amy had been. He expected it to all happen fairly quickly, as the time between her bite and her transformation wasn't very long. The latter held true. The former, well.

As the night approached, Hannibal began to feel the symptoms that Amy had experienced. He felt the burning, the itching. It amazed him, but his sense of smell increased more. He could smell spots on his office carpet where Simon had stood, though it had been some time. He could smell River on his jacket. He couldn't have imagined being more gifted in that particular area, but he was now. His body hurt as he felt the bones change. Hannibal rode the tide of metamorphosis with the same eerie quiet that he always had. Not even his pulse rate changed.

But when it was all over, and Hannibal found himself looking at the world from a different angle, he was surprised what he discovered in the mirror he'd set down for this purpose. Instead of a great wolf, he was staring back at a cat. A jaguar. Black and sleek, though he could still see his spots. A cat, coming from a canine? It really made no sense. But he couldn't say that he was unhappy with it.

Hannibal easily found his way out of the hospital and into the City proper. He was going to find Lestat, this was something that the vampire needed to see.

Jake had discovered a newfound affinity for noodles. (Especially noodles combined with some kind of fish in a milky sauce.) Hence why he was trying out the Chinese restaurant that had mysteriously appeared at the corner of the park as he was walking home. The waitresses were very pleasant and didn't seem at all bothered by the fact that a cat was treating himself to shrimp low mein (with a side of Half&Half creamer for a beverage.)

Spread out across the table were blueprint plans of his ship. Yes, he was still trying to determine if he could make his ship fly again. Of course, he wasn't so naive as to think that it was broken. Certainly there was something that The City was doing itself to prevent his ship from breaking atmosphere and flying off into space. But he was curious about the particle physics and quantum theories surrounding space travel. Perhaps he could find some sort of gap in The City's hold on his ship? Maybe he could find some kind of loophole that would allow him to escape?

Not that he wanted to escape entirely. He did enjoy The City. But he wanted to know that he could leave. He wanted to know that one day he would be reunited with his people or with his old friends. And, of course, he would take Lucy-Belle with him. Provided that she wanted to go. But he couldn't imagine her not wanting to go. She had friends and family back on Earth, after all. And even though the two of them had each other now, she might still be lonely for her companions.

On a scratch piece of paper, a hovering pencil drew out some formulas. Jake's collar glowed as the pencil wrote across the length of the paper. He had considerably nice handwriting for a telekinetic cat. Some of the algorithms were in his own language, but anyone with knowledge and experience in mathematics would be able to see what he was trying to do.

It was a science thing.

Mmm, creamer. Slurp, slurp.

Charlie hadn't been avoiding the large and multifruited orchard, but something about it was bothering him. He couldn't decide if something were missing, or if something bad had happened in the beautiful orchard. He'd not bothered in talking to Ted about it because Ted didn't need to be concerned. The man had enough to worry about. Who knew looking after a cat could be so...adventurous? Not that Charlie had been too bothered by the white ball of fur, mainly because he hadn't been home for long enough periods of time. Somehow he'd even managed to sleep through the crazy attack kitty moments.

Today was a late day, and the kitty in question was actually surveying her territory. She was queen of a nice big house now. Even an orchard, but she'd yet to bother with going outside. There were still too many rooms to search when her male humans were away. The ginger, almost alpha, was good for a treat when she rubbed along his legs. Whether or not he did it to be kind or to get her to move along didn't matter. He wasn't cruel at least.

Charlie was definitely doing it to be kind. "So, Lucy Bell, do cats walk on leashes? I wouldn't ask, or put you on one, but I thought you'd like to go to the park. Ted wouldn't like it if I lost you." Even if she had her issues. "I'm also an officer of the law." Charlie paused for a moment as he was leaning down to scoop the white fluff of a cat up; were there leash laws in the City? He should probably know this.

Lucy Bell didn't fight him, even though she seemed more partial to the other human, the one who'd brought her to her new home. Charlie rubbed round her ears and scratched at her jaw and neck.

"I guess I could carry you. Do you chase mice?" Yes, Charlie was holding a conversation with a cat that didn't or couldn't talk back. "You probably could; animals don't forget how to kill even when they've got an easier life." Charlie would know. "I should know. Humans haven't stopped yet." He was currently walking to the front door and absently set her down to put his keys and a few other things in his pocket. Absently because as he was pocketing what he saw was necessary for the day, he also started to open the door. Lucy Bell saw her chance; it wasn't that this was a bad house, but who could resist an open door?

Charlie didn't curse, nor did he yell after her. He took a moment to text a note to Ted.

Cat ran out door. Will find her. Call if you want.

With that, he closed the door behind him, locked it, and went in search of a wayward kitty who had caught the scent of a fish market she had no idea existed. She wasn't the only one.

A new round of posters and fliers came out days prior to the event, if just to serve as a friendly reminder or perhaps another purpose entirely.

Mrs. Coulter paced about the room with folded arms, wearing a capped sleeve forest green pencil dress. Time and time she would turn away and try to look at the venue with fresh eyes.

A carpeted meeting room good for 50 persons, rented from the The City Convention Center. Inside the room were curved rows of wooden cushioned chairs. A microphone stand situated at the middle. The arrangement was too functional than aesthetic. It seemed to promise hours of boredom, she herself would step out of it if she would. But she liked to believe that people would come, not because they had nothing else to do or for the free food. They would come because they would be curious. They would come because they needed to know once and for all, she told herself. Anyhow, the lights were bright, the air was cool and the chairs seemed comfortable enough to be sat on for a long period of time should it come to that.

The thought of losing her first venue still disappointed her. She still preferred it, a more calming and familiar space, one that would be conducive to discussions. Yet she had expected to be prevented of its use. By who and what, it was plainly obvious. Nothing else would outgrow that pitiful garden with such speed and only weeks before her convention. Mrs. Coulter shrugged it off, she was prepared with her fall back plans no matter how regretful they'd end up to be. She would have her society come together, even in a broom closet. Her organization, one that she named in the true spirit of her world: the Society for Metropolitan Studies.

Meanwhile, the golden monkey was more interested with the long table behind the room, which contained what the invitation promised: tea cups, tea pitchers, and layers of cakes, biscuits, among other pastry snacks. It had caught Eames’s attention, too. As he nudged the biscuits back into neat circles with the bourbon cream he’d pilfered, he flashed the monkey a quick and cheeky smile.

“Mr. Eames,” Mrs. Coulter’s silky voice echoed across the room, a reflective hand upon her chin, “I honestly do not feel like talking to a voice transmitter device. Do you think my voice is loud enough? I’d rather speak without aid.” She mused while her daemon growled at Eames.

"A microphone," corrected Eames. "And if you can fill this many seats-- well, I'll be surprised."

“Whatever,” Mrs. Coulter waved off. It was not the time for Eames’ vocabulary wars. Those things never end. “If it's only Chiba or whoever she thinks of parading around, so be it. I’m simply not used to settling for anything less.”

Jake was an early riser. It came with being a semi-nocturnal creature. He spent many hours of the day sleeping, and many hours of the night roaming around. Sometimes he went out. People called it prowling, but Jake just thought of it as going for a walk. The City was different under a cover of darkness. There were different smells, different sounds, different people. It was like an entirely new world. And, being an explorer from another galaxy, Jake was naturally curious about such things.

That and it was in his nature to walk across fences and howl (like alley cats were opt to)whilst others tried to catch up on a good night's sleep.
( Waking up first meant getting the bathroom first. )

Jake had no new messages.

Well, that wasn't entirely true.

When he finally made it back home to the apartment that he shared with Jennifer, Jake discovered the newspaper personal ads. At first, he was shocked. Then he was confused. And, much to his dismay, Jennifer had not been home to explain it to him. But just because he was cat didn't mean he wasn't smart. Cats were very smart creatures, after all. Smarter than some people. And Jake was no ordinary cat. He was from a race of felines who had overcome their life on land. They had taken to the skies. Then to the stars. They were scientists, doctors, researchers, space travelers. A fine race of beings hoping to do good in the universe. (And meet others like them on their way.)
( But nobody here was interested in him. )

George was being released. She signed some forms under her alias Millie, put her clothes back on and then signed more forms. Besides a package of blank post-its George didn't possess many personal items.

"So I can go now?" The nurse she spoke to bore a striking resemblance, both in personality and appearance, to her former boss Deloris Herbig. It made it hard for George to look particularly sour or annoyed. George even avoided swearing.

"Just one more thing!" The nurse came out of the office with a sleeping orange cat, putting it in George's arms before she could protest.

"I'm not really good with pets," George mumbled.

"Oh don't worry, dear! Cats are very self reliant. He just had a sedative not too long ago so he's fast asleep."

"He has a cool collar."

"Hm? That's nice, dear. Now run along!"

George was shoved unceremoniously out of the asylum with the cat. Having no idea what to do with a cat, she continued walking with it in her arms. Part of her worried that the cat was going to claw the shit out of her face when it woke up, but given her horrible track record with accidentally killing pets she couldn't see herself putting it somewhere defenseless on the ground. If George had learned anything there were a lot of freaks in The City.

Which meant George didn't want to put the cat in a shelter, either. Since he wasn't a kitten the reaper worried if anyone would want him. No dumping the cat into the wild. No shelter. Maybe she could put an ad in the paper?

"There has to be someone out there who'd really like having a cat."

George frowned.

The iv in Lorne's arm dispensed an orange liquid. When the nurse changed the plastic bags full of the orange liquid, the change neither stung nor smelled like oranges.

His room had a nice big window and a view of the courtyard, and it seemed to only be the second floor. He got to leave, sometimes, and chatter with the nurses at the nurses station. He got to walk around, taking his iv on a little wheeled trolly with him, and watch TV in the common room. He got to sing if he felt like it, which hadn't been too often, but Lorne knew he'd done it and the acoustics were lovely here.

He couldn't tell when he'd gotten here, or how. Hadn't he just been with Angel? He didn't know. The orange stuff kept him in a state akin to human drunkenness--just out of it enough not to put two and two together, but his empathic abilities not really impeded. Asylum orderlies made sure to give him sleeping meds, too... they knew, somehow, what depriving Lorne of sleep would do and weren't prepared to deal with it.

As long as everyone was nice to him, Lorne didn't seem to mind what was going on. No one sang here, but him, and no one really hummed--at least not orderlies or nurses.

His connection to the Powers that Be was effectively severed. Lorne was just a green demon that liked to sing and picked up on the moods of others.

Today he stood in the hallway chatting up a pretty nurse named Emily, talking all about Judy Garland's career.

"Emily, do you think we could get a copy of 'The Wizard of Oz' out in the common room?" He didn't quite ask her with as much brightness in his voice as was normal, but it was close.

Emily considered. "Uh, I'll see what I can do, alright?" She didn't see the harm in it. It was just a movie. And Lorne would just sing, and the others would ignore it. No one had even asked why he was green, or what was wrong with him.

"That'd be swell, sweetie," Lorne said, walking past her and continuing down the hall. There was a library room down to the left, and he meant to find it.

The day was crystal clear. Warm, even, considering what time of year it was. Kids were happily running around the park wearing their shorts and maybe a light sweater. Flowers had bloomed unseasonably. Bees and butterflies busied themselves while birds sang.

To top it all off, in a nice grassy area some picnic tables popped up. They were all covered in food and drink. A big banner unfurled across a nice space that could be seen from the road. It touted "Annual City Picnic" in bold black lettering.

She didn't even know how long she'd been out ill. Long enough for her to be hopelessly addicted to soaps, but not long enough for her to be wondering what day it was. She'd not yet reached the point of irreversible cabin fever. She still felt poorly enough to want to stay inside, and didn't give a single thought to what badguys out there might be doing with one less cop on the force.

Laying on the couch and watching the soaps, she only wondered where Jake was when her soup was late. Jennifer was totally taking for granted that her cat had telekinetic abilities and could make her soup.

It wasn't a really bad sickness. Just a cold. But everybody feels miserable when they've got a cold, and Jen was no different. She might have been, in fact, worse. Having to take care of the rest of the world as your job meant you got to be extra pathetic when you were will. Didn't it?

"Jake?" she called pathetically. "Jake? I hab no bore tissues. Jake? I need soub."

The yellowish envelope on his desk had his name on it. His proper name.

Indy poked it. It crunched. He looked at it, carefully, trying to see if he recognized the writing, but he didn't.

DR. HENRY JONES JR.
C/O CITY COLLEGE
DEPT. OF ARCHAEOLOGY & HISTORY
1195 EDISON ST. STE. 45
THE CITY
THE WORLD
THE UNIVERSE

"Andrea?"

The secretary didn't answer. Indy sat down at the desk and removed his glasses, ripping the envelope apart. Ah... the crunching had been caused by some plastic coating on the inside. It looked like bubbles. Full of air. He poked one. It burst with a loud pop. Indy heard a chuckle.

And as he turned toward the sound, he removed his father's diary from the envelope and cursed under his breath, quite quietly.

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.

Jen sat on the couch, curled up with a book that she'd found in the library. She'd gone with non-fiction, because after the whole Hannibal Lecter thing, she hadn't wanted to peer into any lives that she might run into in the future, or find out about anybody she already knew. So she was reading about different kinds of butterflies and their growth cycles.

Long ago, she'd installed a button outside that Jake could push to get in if he went out. There was a matching one on this side of the door, too. It read Jake's paw print and wouldn't let anybody else in by that route. How it worked, she had no idea. But the guy at the housewears store had told her about it when she'd gone to find a cat door. It just seemed wrong to have a cat as smart as Jake cooped up in the house all the time with no way to get out. And she couldn't - as an officer of the law - just leave the door open.

So she wasn't at all surprised when the door swung open wide enough to allow the cat in. She just turned from her book, smiling.

"Hi Jake."

Being a cat, Jake was prone to prowling about The City at various times of day and night. Sure, he was an intellectual, as well. A scientist, even. With knowledge beyond that of many humans. But he was still a cat. Which meant that he had cat needs and cat desires. He liked to walk on fences (which he had made the habit of doing every night before bed.) He liked to chase mice (though he never ate them -- it was all in the sport.) And naturally, the mouse understood. He liked to sing songs in hopes of meeting a feminine feline. But, most of all, he liked to creep past the local fish market and see if there were any new trouts on display.

Jake could imagine that being a fisherman in The City would be difficult. What with everything moving around. But, as a cat, Jake was particularly pleased that the fisherman stayed in business. It was the one store that Jake never had trouble finding. The smell was just too overwhelming. And delicious. Mmm, it was so delicious. Heavenly.

His paws padded along the sidewalk as he made his way to the fish market. It was a small store with a glass front window. There the owner had already placed out tomorrow's selection on ice. Jake stood up on his hind legs and pressed his front paws and nose against the window. Snapper, cod, perch, and trout! Oh, and that trout looked delicious. He wondered if Jennifer would like it if he brought home a trout. It would be a nice change from tuna. Not that Jake was opposed to tuna. Oh no. He liked tuna very much. It was the greatest human invention he could think of! So rich, so juicy, so ... fishy. And in a can, no less! Quite a convenient contraption. Jake vowed that if he ever made it back home, he would introduce tuna to his people. It would be an instant sensation.

When Jake realized that he was drooling on the window, he dropped back down to the sidewalk and licked his lips. Delicious. He'd have to return during daylight hours to make a purchase. He could hardly wait. Oh, it was going to be the feast of--

He blinked. What was that? He stared up at the sky at what appeared to be a spacecraft. Another astronaut? How had he not realized this before? And it was massive. From where he was he couldn't even see the end of the ship's hull. Quite extraordinary! And it was flying! Well, hovering was more like it. But that was one step better than what his ship was doing. (Collecting moss.) He squinted his eyes to make out the writing on the side of the ship. U.S.S. Enter-something. He'd have to walk around the block to see the rest. But this certainly was quite fortuitous. If he could discover the identity of the ship's captain, perhaps the two of them could devise a means of fixing their crafts. Yes!

Jake ran back home. He'd have to tell Jennifer all about this!

With much improved weather Violet decided to brave a trip to the junkyard for more supplies (project wise of course). After leaving a message for Dr.Wilson that she had gone on a supply run she slipped on her coat and got her box, leaving for the nearby junkyard. "Maybe I can visit Gert later?" happy to have found a friend close to her own age while the youth hostel was being repaired. But as she walked towards the junkyard she was doing her share of thinking, the conference thing had been strange enough (and the notes in her notebook acted as proof). "Curious, its like things just keep getting more strange" she mused as she sat on the bench long enough to jot some quick notes into her book.

That was when an idea struck Violet,"Maybe there is a way to beat the weatherpeople at their own game!"

You're in a funhouse maze, but it's no ordinary funhouse maze. The mighty minotaur is stalking you through it, and you have to get to the center of the maze to save the virgins and get back out before it reaches you.

Jake, having seen the zombies (or at least zombies of some sort) once before when he met Jo, wasn't so surprised when they returned. Of course, he wasn't sure what it was he was supposed to do. Being a cat, his natural instinct was to run and hide. But he remembered what Jo had told him about zombies. They were bad and scary and dangerous. Especially dangerous to people. Jake didn't know if the zombies could infect him (he certainly hoped not!) but he decided it was best to remain on the safe side. He tried to stay as far away from them as possible. They didn't seem to be too interested in him though. Cats must not have been their preferred meal. But he was still worried.

He and Jennifer were going to rent a truck and move his spaceship today. At least, that had been the original plan. Jake had almost forgotten about his ship entirely after moving into Jennifer's place. It was pretty nice for a human home. It reminded him a lot of Jake's apartment (only not as messy.) Scientists were naturally messy people. Mostly because they were so scatterbrained.

Jake couldn't rent a truck. At least, not on his own. That was going to be Jennifer's job. Jake's job was to meet her at the site of his ship and help her with the loading. But Jake had been there for almost forty-five minutes and she hadn't arrived.

She's probably just delayed. Traffic or paperwork or something, he told himself.
( Zombies milling about in the park. )

The park was becoming her favorite place to have lunch. It was right outside her building (she had no idea if it was always that, or just for her), and it was big and open. There were people to watch. Plus, well, it was outside. She'd found that in this place she really liked being outside. It was a lot different than where she'd come from. It was still a city, but not overcrowded, and not filled with ads.

Jennifer really really liked that there weren't many ads. That she could buy things without being slapped in the face with product endorsement. She also liked that she could buy things and they didn't cost her a lot of money. She'd taken to the novelty of buying a whole McDonald's meal for five dollars. And shoes for under fifty.

She was going to have a lot of shoes, if she stayed here for a long time.

Her sandwich wasn't particularly good today, but she was still eating it. She'd been brought up to not waste things, and couldn't bring herself to throw it out. It might have been good, really, but she wasn't particularly fond of tuna. She had no idea why she'd bought a tuna sandwich, and now that she thought about it, she was pretty certain she'd said turkey.

With a frown, Jen looked up. And spotted something she hadn't been expecting. A cat sauntering across her visual path. She wasn't sure she'd even seen a cat in the time she'd been here.

It gave her a bit of a thrill. A bit of childhood came back to her, in a way.

"Here kitty!" She called out, and thought enough to offer it her sandwich to lure it her way.