Stone Knives and Cherubs

[merryeccentricities]

((Continued from here))
It's a short enough trip with the two of them to carry one man between them--or for Bahorel to carry one man, and for Joly to get brought up to speed. By the time Joly opens the door on the Blue Room, he's heard of an upsetting number of potentially infectious conversations, and is warned enough to be ready to meet ...well, someone who isn't Bossuet for a while, when he wakes up.

Comments

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

The walk leaves Picard exhausted past resistance. All he has is an impression of blue ceiling and gilded wings before slipping into unconsciousness.

It's not a long sleep: short and intense. He wakes soaked with sweat.

Blue ceiling and gilded wings indeed. If this is someone's idea of interior decorating, they need to find a new hobby. "Computer, freeze program," he says, quietly and without much hope.

[merryeccentricities]

Joly, reading on the couch, looks up and smiles. "It's not a computer; but for your current situation, perhaps you could deal with it all more calmly if you think of it as a computer simulation that will end when you allow yourself to recover properly? A sort of therapeautic program?"

He's already bringing over tea as he talks.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

He feels better. Not well, but better, as if the fever has gone down. Carefully, carefully, he sits up, and finds that that's as much exertion as he can manage for now.

From this position the room doesn't look any less ludicrous. Picard smiles somewhat tightly at the young man speaking to him. "I see. You seem very knowledgeable about computer simulations." All things considered.

"Am I to understand that...that I'm a young man named Legle or Bossuet, from the year 1832, who has been residing in this...place...for several months? And that I am currently under the influence of a memory-altering virus? That's the story, isn't it?"

[merryeccentricities]

Joly nods,smiling a little. "That's the story, though I'm quite willing that you invent another if it will help you rest. At any rate, I know I am Joly, and this is our room." He holds the teacup out. "And this is a terrible and intrusive medical prodcedure called Lemon-Ginger Tea, With Honey. Which I don't insist you take, but do strongly advise."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Picard laughs softly at that, and the laugh turns into a cough; he doesn't take the tea until his hands are steady again.

"Right now I'm more interested in your story. How do you happen to be here--Joly? From 1832 to this?"

[merryeccentricities]

Joly puts a hand on Lesgle's back while he coughs and listens carefully,then nods again, satisfied. It's just a cough, nothing deep or rattling.

"You know we're from 1832, then? Good. That saves-- some explanation, I suppose." He considers what he has to say next, and laughs. "Perhaps when you've heard me out you will, at least, believe you're hallucinating something. So. Yes. We are from 1832, and we are, to put it plainly-- and remember you think we are a program, if it helps!-- dead. Us, and our dear friends, all killed in the June Rebellion. We died , and then we appeared here, still wearing the marks of our fatal wounds, but in very good health otherwise. I can't explain it, though I am studying the phenomenon. I've been told-- well, you told me!-- that our deaths and the entire battle became rather famous, thanks to a rather popular novel by Monsieur Hugo some decades later. I haven't read it, I've been reading enough trying to catch up with the state of medical science here. -- Which is why I know about computer simulations. I work in the infirmary; we have some very advanced technology."

A curious mrrrp heralds a young cat leaping onto the bed and climbing up on Bossuet's legs to nose at the tea. "And this is Tarsal. He's one of our cats. I don't think he cares that you don't recognize him. He doesn't remember that he doesn't like lemon-ginger tea."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

It's hard not to stiffen away from the unexpected touch on his back, but Picard at least recognizes the expression of a doctor. Or a medical student.

While Joly talks, Picard inhales the steam from the tea. It doesn't smell like anything other than what it's supposed to be; a cautious sip doesn't have any strange effects. (And then there is a cat. He frowns and moves his cup away with the look of a person who has not spent years of his life guarding food from cats.)

"You're aware of the novel, then. Victor Hugo." He smiles a little. (It's a warm enough smile, but it's not quite Lesgle's smile.) "You see, I have a distinct memory of reading that novel when I was...oh, well. When I was about your age. --I shouldn't say a distinct memory. It was for a class, some--forty years ago."

It's good tea. "I don't know how your friend Legle could hallucinate Starfleet Academy."

[merryeccentricities]

"I am surprised Lesgle remembers anything about an Academy." It's almost automatic joke. But no, it's not Lesgle's expression at all. Joly picks up Tarsal and shifts to the other side of the bed to regard the other occupant thoughtfully.

" This condition has been known to occur among occupants of the Bar before. It lasts a few days, then leaves the patient with a memory of --what we're calling the hallucination. What would you suggest as an alternate hypothesis? If, hypothetically, the rest of us aren't all computer simulations." He smiles briefly at that. "Perhaps some sort of virally-transmitted transfer of consciousness?" He's not being flippant;the illness is hardly studied, and it's an interesting topic.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Picard raises an eyebrow. Well, why not speculate? If one has to ally oneself with fictional characters, perhaps it's better Hugo's student revolutionaries than his Inspector Javert.

"We have met--the Federation has met, I have met--alien species with some remarkable abilities. Powers of telepathy, powers of manipulating consciousness and memory--that our scientists can barely begin to understand. I am prepared to accept a transfer of consciousness whose mechanism I cannot grasp."

Another terrible cough. He steadies the teacup automatically but some spills even so. "--Damn, I'm sorry. Is this...Legle's room? --I could accept a transfer of consciousness if the story stopped there. I can accept an interdimensional rift that I perceive as a bar filled with fictional characters, if I have to. But--"

He holds Joly's gaze as best he can. "--But I cannot accept it passively. I must do everything I can to return to my ship."

[merryeccentricities]

Joly nods-- yes,it's Lesgle's room-- and waves aside the apology. "Of course. I would feel quite the same way if I were stranded in a strange identity far from my friends. I won't try to talk you out of it. But I will point out that the body you're currently in belongs to my dearest friend, and I have every expectation of him returning to it fully in the natural course of things" Or else they'd be in the infirmary right now, with every computer Joly could commandeer looking for solutions. "I won't let you endanger him. So. I'll be glad to help you gather whatever information we can. But I won't let you exhaust yourself, or take any careless risks. You must realize, if we find that this is some sort of induced condition-- illness or otherwise-- I have just as much reason to want to correct it as you."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Picard raises his eyebrows. But why should he be surprised?

"Very well, then. The first thing to do--"

The first thing to do is interrupted by an even worse coughing fit, one that leaves Picard flopped back against the pillows, light-headed.

He lifts a hand. "Perhaps this isn't the first thing, but--why the cherubs?"

[merryeccentricities]

An unpexpected question, but entirely fair!

Joly grins. "We have no idea. We needed a larger room than the usual, and this, amazingly, was one of the most sedate." He points to one of the near cherubs. "You-- ah, Lesgle-- named that one Victor, back before we knew about the book."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Did he, now." Picard shakes his head, smiling a little. "I would like very much to hear more about your friends, about your life here. But first--that other man--Bahorel?--communicated with you using a device that was disguised as a pocket-watch. Do you know how it works?"

[merryeccentricities]

"I do! I built it. Of course the basic principles behind it were all discovered by other people, long before my arrival here. Er,or after. It's a bit hard to talk about time and Milliways, you'll find. I can get the designs I made! Though it's not the most advanced communications technology available here, really. There are people with marvelous communicators from their own worlds, and the Bar does something that lets us all speak to each other that I still haven't figured out. I am working on it! The watches are just-- just ours, sort of. They won't reach your ship, if that's what you're thinking of. Would you like to see the designs?"

Joly starts to lean forward as he talks, then catches himself and pulls back, folding his arms briefly to keep from reaching out to make contact. Lesgle's expressions are all, well, clearly not Lesgle's expressions. There's no flicker of recognition, no invitation to closeness. Virus or anything else, there's no point in causing distress by acting familiar. But it's a hard practice to check.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

No flicker of recognition, no. But there is a flicker of sympathy and regret. "I'm sorry," Picard says. "This must be very--"

He passes a hand across his face. Joly probably doesn't want to hear about Kataan and the star that was going nova. "You may be right that your communicators can't be modified to reach my ship. But I'd like to see the designs, yes."

[merryeccentricities]

"All right, just a moment then--" Joly bounces off the bed and heads up to the lab. It takes a little longer than expected to find the plans; still, he's not gone more than ten minutes before he comes back downstairs with a notebook's worth of papers. "Found them! They were under the electromagnets."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

While he's gone--upstairs, apparently this absurd room has an upstairs--Picard musters the strength to get up out of the bed. It's not an attempt at escape. He gets as far as the bathroom, shivering and shuffling. The facilities--and then the mirror.

That's his face, certainly: younger, with the sort of foolish beard that you might expect on a young man going bald before thirty. Could be worse. Is this Legle as much of an ass as Picard was at this age?

He startles away from the mirror, embarrassed at being caught. "I was just--" Well, obviously. "--Never mind. So we both live here? And you have a laboratory upstairs?"

[merryeccentricities]

Joly's hardly going to judge a man for needing to use the bathroom. He doesn't even blink at it.

"Yes-- it's not meant as a laboratory, necessarily, but it's a nice room with a window out on the sky, and there's a door to keep the cats out. And, hah, the beetle, now." He nods toward the living room. "Take a seat wherever you like. Do you want anything? More tea, cough medicine? You should drink something,you know."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"The beetle! Is that what was making that buzzing noise? --Some more tea would be wonderful. Thank you. Is there--Earl Grey?"

Picard shuffles along to the living area. By the time he reaches a couch he's ready to collapse into it. A cat jumps off the other end, offended. "You arrived here immediately following--the events of the barricade." He catches himself from describing it as the barricade "scenes."

[merryeccentricities]

Joly frowns for a moment. He's not sure he's even had Earl Grey. Oh well, always something to try! "I can send out for it! It should be here by the time the water's ready." he's already writing a note and passing it under the door for any passing wait-rats and goes to set the water boiling, talking the whole time.

"Yes-- from our individual perspectives, that is. We all remember our final injuries, right up to the point where we, I suppose, died; and then we all found a door, or simply found ourselves here. But not all at once. We've been coming here all staggered; I can't spot any order to it. You- ah, Lesgle- was here months before me." Which still feels very wrong to consider. "Some of our friends arrived even earlier; some much later."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Oh--you don't need to--" But the young man is already sending off a note for the tea. Picard rubs his forehead. "It's, ah. An English tea." As Joly probably guessed from the name. "England and France get along quite well now," he adds, even though it's absurd to imagine that he's being judged by the fictional (revolutionary) character of one of France's (greatest) authors.

"I met--I met a man who said he was Inspector Javert, earlier."

[merryeccentricities]

Joly grins. "Which one? The real one--well,but you don't think any of us are real. Allow that he's the one the rest of us know as real? Anyway, there's the real one, and then a fellow with the same condition as you who thinks he's Javert. The new fellow has a very dramatic hat."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Picard raises his eyebrows. "There are two Javerts, now? --This one had a hat. I, ah, left him with the impression that I was the former captain of a marine vessel. A sailing-ship."

[merryeccentricities]

Joly laughs in earnest at that. "Oh, that's good! Certainly much easier than convincing him you run a star-ship. Definitely the new 'Javert' then, poor fellow. Our Javert recognizes us, and he'd never have believed you. Why, you'd have been lucky to avoid getting arrested."

A small packet of tea slides under the door, well-wrapped in a paper envelope. Joly pours water into two cups; there's more than enough for that. Bar with her usual generosity, has over-provided.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Does Javert have that power here? To arrest people?"

Picard breathes in the pleasant aroma of Earl Grey tea...or tries to. The flu seems to be changing from a cough to a stuffed-up head.

[merryeccentricities]

Joly waves his hand; so-so. "Javert works with Security here; I'm not sure he's actually one of them. But the man who thinks he's Javert certainly has the power to assault you, which would be a breach of the peace, and not everyone on Security cares too much about the difference between assailants and victims." He takes a sip of his own tea. "Is that lavender? It's very nice. Anyway, most of the Security people are good men--and women, I've heard, but I haven't met them-- but it's not worth testing today, I think." He nods towards the odd end table. "There are tissues in the drawer. Disposable! Isn't that a brilliant idea? There's a sheer wonder of paper here."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Bergamot." It is nice, dammit. Even if his enjoyment is interrupted by the need to find the disposable tissues. "--You know, even in the 24th century, we still haven't found a cure for the common cold?"

Although this is clearly an uncommon cold. "So you and your friends came here after your deaths. Is anyone here voluntarily?"

[merryeccentricities]

"Hmm- depends on what you mean by that. I think it's a surprise to everyone the first time they come here; but most people aren't dead or Bound here, if that's what you mean. They open a door, they find themselves here, they can leave through the door when they want. I'm not sure entirely how it works on the other side, but it does seem to be at Bar's convenience rather than anyone else's. Some people are very glad to be here, I think, and stay for months or longer; and some would come more often if they could."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Picard laughs softly. "Yes. Yes--I can see enjoying it if I were here by choice. I can think of much worse things."

Much worse than spending some time with one's old literary heroes. If it were simply a holodeck program that he could walk into, spend an hour, walk out again.

He blows his nose. "But you--Enjolras--the others, you can't go back."

[merryeccentricities]

"No--well--" Well. Not in any useful way. Joly looks down for a moment, but smiles and goes on. "We can't go back to our own--our lives. If that's what you mean. But we can visit other worlds; some of my friends have. Even our own world,I suppose, if it's not...our place and time, sort of. It isn't for very long, just a few days, but we can leave."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Really." Picard raises an eyebrow over the crumple of the tissue. "Where have you gone? Or--where have your friends gone?"

There's something against his leg; he recognizes it belatedly as one of the cats.

[merryeccentricities]

"Our friend Feuilly's been to an Earth that survived nuclear war, just recently! And you--Lesgle-- went to our Paris in the future--in the 21st century."

Joly shrugs a little apologetically. "It's a little hard to talk about time here. I've been here since before last Halloween, but then I also lost months in the library or various experiements that were only a day from my perspective." He has to laugh at his own explanations."I certainly can't blame you for thinking it's all a hallucination; it certainly doesn't sound like a reasonable place at all."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

He laughs a little. "I'm afraid not. The whole thing sounds like what you might get from some sort of...haphazard experimentation with artificial intelligences. Mixing personalities from fiction and fact..." Picard rubs his temples. "Or maybe I'll wake up tomorrow as your friend Legle. --All right, let's see these schematics for your communicators."

[merryeccentricities]

Joly walk over to offer clarifications on the notes as needed. "I'm afraid they won't let you communicate outside of Milliways. That's what I was trying to do when I started researching them-- ah, but, well, it turns out to be very complicated. It's the issue with time, among other things; even if we could send a message out right this minute, when would it go? 1832? Your time? Some other entirely?"
He shrugs in partial surrender to Milliway's odd nature."I've heard there are some communicators made by Bar that can cover that boundary, so clearly the possibility exists! But for those, both sender and receiver have to have one of those communicators. Which does us little good! Oh, look, that bit I copied from a bit of your medtech,it's just the signal-sound interpreter really..."

Whoever he's talking to, Joly's completely willing to go on about scientific developments until stopped, possibly by force.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Mmmm..." The man's handwriting is nearly impossible to make out, even though Picard has had some experience with antique penmanship. But when Joly points it out, he can see a hint of recognizable technology. If Geordi were here, or Data, they'd no doubt whip something up in an hour. And Data wouldn't catch a cold.

Picard fumbles for more tissues. "Yes, I see the part you mean. That's from something in the infirmary? I was told a Doctor Leonard McCoy visits this place. If that's true there might be something here based on Federation technology. Is there paper I can use for a list? Thank you..."