merryeccentricities | OOM: A Small Error II

OOM: A Small Error II

Joly is having a lovely calm day in the Infirmary--running maintenance on a few machines, reading more about the intricacies of engineered retroviral medication from a time his great-grandchildren wouldn't have seen-- when a tall and rather lanky man runs into the room, holding...a goat? A small young goat. Yes. All right!

Joly can guess who he is, from the reports of friends, and Pierre Gringoire--he's even more sure of that when the man begins speaking French-- clearly recognizes him in the same way. "Maitre Joly? You're a friend to Maitre Combeferre, yes? There's been a slight incident." Despite the man's obvious hurry, there's a certain calm to his speech that, yes, does remind Joly a bit of Bossuet, as Prouvaire said.

It's helpful, considering the news. "Yes-- has something's happened to Combeferre? Is he badly hurt?" Joly's already on his feet, ready to gather whatever supplies might be needed.

"No-no, not hurt, at all. In fact some might say he's been given a gift.Only it is a bit surprising. I doubt you'll believe me, if I try to explain it, and I'd rather not leave him and Maitre Segundus alone for too long, given the situation. They're in my room, it's not far at all."

It's not far, indeed. And when the door opens, Joly sees why Gringoire was reluctant to spend time explaining the situation. Oh, Joly would have believed him--but there are any number of gadgets and small tools in evidence, and Combeferre, as he would expect, is already investigating them. Which would not be a problem, except that Combeferre--and what looks like Mister Segundus-- appear to be children, now.

Still, appearances are deceiving! Especially in Milliways! He steps in, a little cautious. "Combeferre? Is that really you?"

(Behind him, he hears Gringoire making polite but audibly urgent apologies for leaving on account of Djali's neccessary animal habits. It's almost certainly just as well; he wouldn't want a young goat in this room, at the moment.)

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Since all this strangeness began, John has been doing his best to retreat slowly and cautiously into a corner. Where is he? Who are all these people-- and here, now, another person?

Right. He's going to have to be brave, or he'll never find out what's going on. He takes in a deep breath and looks to the man who just entered.

"Sir?" It comes out rather softly. "Sir, if you please, um-- where am I?"

Edited 2016-04-09 14:09 (UTC)

Sébastien doesn't know who this strange dark man, darker even than Sébastien's mother, is. But the man seems to know him. Maybe he's a new master at school?

He'd just been at school, and now he's...here. In a room. A very strange room, with all kinds of shiny strange things that look like tools. Sébastien would trot over to inspect them, but the man has asked him a question, and it's impolite to ignore him.

"Yes, monsieur," he says. "If you please, where are we?"

He gives the other boy, who seems very shy, a smile.

Edited 2016-04-09 18:23 (UTC)

...Oh, dear.

"You're in Milliways-- in a friend's room.Ah, a friend...to you. The fellow with the goat. He told me you might need some help. You're-you are Jean-Sébastien Combeferre? And you're--I'm sorry, I don't know your first name-- you're M.Segundus, yes?" From Segundus he doesn't expect too much recognition, but come on, Combeferre, please.."I'm Joly. Jean-Gilbert Joly? Do you know me at all?"

"John," he supplies, but seeing that the question is mostly directed to the other boy, he says no more.

"Jean-Luc Sébastien Combeferre," Sébastien corrects, very precise. "Pardon me, M. Joly, but I don't know you. I'm sorry."

He really is. He can be absent-minded sometimes, but he wouldn't forget a teacher. He's never forgotten anyone. This man must be very new.

"And I don't have a friend with a goat," he adds. "Though--I would like to!" Goats are intelligent!

Joly smiles. "Well, that was Monsieur Gringoire, and I'm sure if you catch him and his goat outside, he'll be happy to introduce you. Now--Sébastien, John?-- I know you don't know me; I hope you'll believe I know a bit about you, and I'm--well, I want to try to help you be comfortable, here. Are you both feeling all right? Are you dizzy, sick, any sort of discomfort?"

"I feel very well, sir, thank you," John says politely. And he does want to be polite, and not pushy, but-- "But I am afraid, sir, I do not know where Milliways is? Is it a college, sir?" He was sure he knew all the Oxford colleges, but maybe there are some small ones he hasn't heard about.

Edited 2016-04-09 19:30 (UTC)

Sébastien frowns, and narrows his eyes.

"No. Why would we be ill? Is this a hospital? Are you a doctor?"

Edited 2016-04-09 19:35 (UTC)

Joly nods, encouraging. "That's right, I'm a doctor here. This is-- someplace far from where either of you call home. It's a bit hard to explain, though I'll tell you all I can. This is Milliways, as I said. It's a sort of, well--think of it as a sort of retreat, one in a place and time no one can reach without permission--it calls itself the Restaurant at the End of the Universe, but it's far more than a restaurant, it's a whole --almost a whole village. And only Milliways itself grants permission for who might enter it, and when. That's how I know you both, from a later time--when you're older. And--well, I suppose it's decided to invite you both in from rather earlier than that. "

He raises a hand before objections can come in. "I know it sounds absurd, but I'll show you more of what I mean, and other people who'll agree, downstairs. Right now---you ?are both well?" Yes, he asked. But they're maybe ten. Time to make sure.

John's eyes widen.

"You mean it's magic? Are we in Faerie?"

"I'm well," Sébastien repeats.

John's question, though, is intriguing. "Is this village magic? You're not French, are you?" This question is for John, of course. "Are you--English? How come you speak French so well, and how did you get here?"

And then he turns to M. Joly. "You know me, when I'm older? Am I a doctor, too?"

Sébastien rattles off all these questions very fast.

Joly's mouth is open to try and answer Segundus' question--a very fair one!--when Combeferre starts his barrage. It's all so very much Combeferre that Joly can't help laughing a little. He puts a hand gently on his friend's shoulder, not to silence him but in relief that it's still him, not some sort of changeling.

"Yes. Yes, I've known you a while. Yes, you're a doctor, and a scholar." And a radical republican who died in a terrible battle! Joly is gonna leave that out as much as possible.

To Segundus he says "I'm afraid I don't know you as well, Monsieur; we're from different nations and only met here recently. As for whether this is fairyland, or a fairyland, I honestly can't say." He shakes his head in slight perplexity. "I could tell you the best scientific explanation I have, but as other friends of mine have argued, just because we can explain the place existing doesn't meean it isn't also fairyland. Many of the physical properties do seem to be the same."

He looks around the room ruefully. "Including the existence and possibility of magic as a force, it must be said."

"Yes, I'm English," John says, which conveniently serves as both response to Sébastien's question and Mr. Joly's remark. "But I am not speaking French, and nor are you. But-- but perhaps in fairy, everyone can understand one another."

Edited 2016-04-09 23:02 (UTC)

Sébastien beams with delight to hear he's a doctor. It would be so wonderful to cure people, and M. Joly seems very nice, and so if they are doctors together then surely that would be marvelous, and they could save people from dying of tuberculosis.

"Yes," he says, eagerly, in response to John. "Perhaps...if it's magic, or if it's complicated science? Some sort of mesmerism, that puts new languages into your mind? I didn't think mesmerism worked, not truly...oh, but surely you know, M. Joly, if you're a doctor?"

Joly smiles brightly at Segundus. "That's right! There's a translation field--or maybe a spell-- all over Milliways, so anyone can understand each other. It works for the written word too, so any text you find can be studied! You'll still be able to tell who's speaking--or who's written in--your own language, though, in my experience."

To Combeferre, he says "In a way! In later years, they take to calling it hypnotism, and begin to understand how it works--upon the mind, not outside forces. But as the mind controls the body, there are some limited but very useful effects that can be attained with proper application of the technique! However, this place and its translation field far outdoes any possible use of hypnotism. I promise you're not in any simple altered state of consciousness--for whatever that's worth!" He laughs as he realizes the answer may well be not much.

...Joly may be losing the thread of the mission, here. But science, though!

John nods along as Joly speaks. It's really all very interesting. But there is a worry nagging at the back of his mind still, and when there is an opening, he says, "And how do we return home, sir?"

Edited 2016-04-09 23:54 (UTC)

That is a serious question, and Joly frowns a little. "Ordinarily, most people visiting here have a Door--they often see it from the main room. If that's the case for you, it will take you back to exactly where you were when you arrived. But that's the thing, in this case." He taps the bridge of his nose, thinking.

"Monsieur Gringoire--who left just now for reasons I do respect-- he says that you were the selves we both knew, the older selves, only moments before you were--like this. So if you did find a Door home, I don't know if it would take you to when you remember leaving, or when your older self last remembers coming into Milliways--" horrific thought, that "--or some other option that hasn't yet occurred to me. Do you think you could remember just what you were doing, before you found yourselves in this room?"

Sébastien is very excited about the magic-or-science of this place! Which can make all men intelligible to each other. How wonderful. And M. Joly is taking him seriously, and answering his questions, and not telling him to be silent.

So it's only polite if he answers M. Joly's questions in turn, instead of haring off after the gadgets in the middle of the room, like he wants to do. "I was at school, monsieur," he says. "Studying history."

"And I was in my uncle's study," John says. "We were about to go to supper."

Edited 2016-04-10 03:32 (UTC)

Joly nods. "And you--either of you--you opened no doors, you walked through no gates? Just, suddenly, you were here?"

"Yes," says Sébastien, frowning. "How can that be? Especially if I was already here and older?"

Joly sighs. "That's a very good question. Monsieur Gringoire told me the three of you had been conducting an experiment, which went a bit out of control. It may have caused this. But whether it--deaged your adult selves, or simply switched your places in time, or something else--I really can't say."

He looks between the boys. "Would you be willing to let me examine you both in the Infirmary? Nothing painful, I promise. But I might be able to at least rule some things out, there."

"If-- if we must, sir," John says uncertainly. He doesn't really think it safe or right to go with a strange French doctor, but he has also never been the type not to do what he's told. And the longer he stands here, the more he must admit he does feel a bit-- odd, in a way he would be hard-pressed to actually describe.

(But unless Joly's machines can sense a lifelong sensitivity to powerful acts of magic, the feeling can surely be dismissed as merely feeling unsettled in anew place.)

Edited 2016-04-10 15:10 (UTC)

Sébastien is also not completely certain it is right to go with an adult he doesn't know, but obviously M. Joly is a good man.

No, not obviously. It's not good to make assumptions. But the evidence suggests he's a good man. He is kind, he answers questions, he is not suspiciously confident of his answers even when confidence isn't truly called for.

"Very well, monsieur," Sébastien pronounces, after a moment's deliberation. "I think it's important to find out whether the magic made us younger or made us switch places." He smiles. "Do you think grownup me is at school now?"

That's a nice thought. Maybe grownup him could tell the master to stop being so mean and bullying the shyer, slower boys.

Joly smiles back, sharing at least some of the same thoughts. "If he is, I'm sure it's become a better class than I ever sat through." Not that he went through school as a child, but he's sure Combeferre would have been an amazing lecturer for any time. "Come on--he works with me in the Infirmary, you can see some of what we do."

--

What they do in the Infirmary may not be immediately clear to the younger scholars. Everything is bright lights and shining equipment, and Joly knows it baffled him for long enough. "If you'll both just sit on one of the tables, I'll explain what everything is as I use it?"

John climbs obediently up onto one of the tables, eyes wide, and sits in silent wonder. It's all so bright and clean and very, very, strange.

Sébastien, perhaps displaying the traits that got him into this mess in the first place, does not climb up onto one of the tables.

He dashes over to one of the strange, gleaming things on the side, and runs his hand over it. It has buttons and flashing lights, and it takes all Sébastien's self-control not to press all the buttons right away.

That would be impolite. This belongs to M. Joly and pressing the buttons would be like playing with someone else's toys without asking permission, only worse.

So he turns, bright-eyed, to M. Joly, and says, "What does this do?"

Joly smiles, almost as obviously enthusiastic. "It's a monitor. It sees and records so much information! Here-- John, do you mind if I start with you?" Since John is actually sitting down, and all. But Joly can hardly criticize anyone for wanting to run around and see how things work! "See, here are scanners, on the end of these arms-- and I move this here, it will record and examine brain activity, and this here, this will monitor vital organs--" He explains everything,step by step, arranging the scanners and monitors. And then he turns it on, and a half-dozen screens light up with information that would take a doctor hours to collect in their time, and longer to collate.

But something simple first--" See this line? That's your heart activity. John, you can feel your heart beat, how it matches those spikes? And this is blood pressure, here--ah, that's a good number! That's how hard your heart is beating to pump blood out, you see, and that's the pressure to pull it back in."

There's so much to explain! And John is even rather healthy--surprisingly healthy, for a child in the time any of them would call home. Only-- "Listen, when we're done here, you need to go eat, all right? Both of you. I'll talk to Bar, she'll give you as much as you like, anything you like best. So don't skip meals, while you're here." John seems to have both skipped a lot of meals, and had a lot of the wrong thing-- and Joly knows Combeferre never takes attends well to food, unless it's with coffee. But John especially could use some of the healthy food Bar can give so easily. He'll make sure it happens. Children need to eat.

"Yes, sir," John says, somewhat unsettled by all the numbers and images and lines.

Sébastien, predictably, is only half paying attention to the talk about food.

But he's listening very eagerly, and watching with wide eyes, as M. Joly talks about the monitor and brain activity and heart activity and blood pressure.

"If you please, M. Joly," he says, after a moment, "if it's no trouble, is there pen and paper somewhere around here?"

He needs to write all this down.

Joly smiles, because Combeferre is still Combeferre at any age, and because he gets to introduce a friend to one of the simple wonders of Milliways again. He hands over a neat, lined pad of paper, and one of the smooth ballpoint pens. "There you go. Write as much as you like, paper's cheap as anything here."

Sebastien grins and does a little happy bounce. "Thank you!"

Regrettably, he spends the next minute or so clicking the ballpoint pen.

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OOM: A Small Error II

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