caughtinanetwork

[When it flicks on, the SFC's set somewhere on a desk or table, and the man in the white coat has his feet up on it, leaning back in a desk chair that creaks a little as he shifts it back and forth. He's holding onto a stack of paper which he's making a face at, and eventually just drops it with a "SMACK" onto the desk.]

Conspiracy theorist.

[That's not even what the project does. Also who the Hell is "That Man"? Guy's obsessed. Yes, someone found the rare example of Sol's sense of note-taking. Infrequent habit, but that's what happens when it's usually just tucked away in his brain.]

At least it ain't hippies on doorsteps; Aria doesn't let me drop shit on 'em anymore.

[To any unfortunate to make Sol's acquaintance, this guy... looks quite a bit like him. A little less ragged around the edges, shorter hair, blue eyes instead of yellow... Glasses. Glasses are an important difference, not to mention wearing what looks like a white lab coat over anything but work clothes--pretty sure jeans and a t-shirt don't count, and boots aren't appropriate most of the time when they're not done up properly.]

Someone tell me where th' fuck I am. I have Petri dishes and interns to terrify.

[Possibly with those Petri dishes.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I've learned that we're in some sort of bubble under the sea.

So your petri dishes and interns are probably not here.

[Ky parrots the sounds back precisely with the unfamiliar words.]

[Frederick stares flatly for a second; this thing again. Though to be fair, he initiated contact because of the magic show and his age, but still. Grabbing the sealife-themed communicator, angle shifting to one that works significantly worse, Frederick kicks off the desk to roll over to the closest window.

Nope, can't see anything.]

Gonna call bullshit.

[Flat as an ironing board tone, there.]

Unless they're movin' the project undersea, not possible.

You should really try walking around outside.

You'll learn a lot.

No shit.

Still doesn't explain a damned thing about how I got here.

I don't know the answer to that.

An' there you go.

[Frederick heaves an annoyed sigh.]

Wasn't really asking for something as flat as "in a bubble", kid.

You did ask where we were, not how we'd gotten here.

Still not askin' how we got here. But "in a bubble" is about as useful as answering "Why is the sky blue?" with "Because."

It is a bubble...Underwater. The rest of it isn't the most important thing, is it?

Y'got it backwards.

[Would be the important part if he was sure this was at all possible; at least then, he could run over the potential of each nation to develop something like this.]

This structure shouldn't be stable, 'n somehow it is. Th'obvious part--bubble--is already there, and s'not possible by the standards science's been at. Underwater labs are entirely possible, but not like this. So the more important question, given the circumstances, turns the "where" simultaneously int' "how" an' "where specifically". Theoretically, the latter could answer the former.

[Frederick leans back in his seat, cigarette hanging from his mouth, and scratches the back of his head.]

Variables don't line up.

[ That's way too much science for Ky. ]

You shouldn't be so worried about how it works. More important is how we got here and how to get back.

[Flat face, kid. Flat face.]

They're kinda related, kid. You figure how it works, you c'n make it work for you.

Or you can be corrupted by it.

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