savetheearth | 壱 - t....ext....??

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壱 - t....ext....??

*It seems like there ought to be text in this message, but there isn't. Actually, the first thing that appears is a slightly curved pencil line.

This is fairly quickly accompanied by another, then another after that. It seems that whoever's on the other end isn't actually writing anything right now; they're drawing, perhaps in a sketchbook or the like. The quick, sharp pencil strokes gradually start to resolve themselves into an image, accompanied by a few carelessly cross-hatched shadows and hints of decrepit buildings in the background:

It's a picture of the snake-and-heart statue in the Dead District, with no commentary attached as yet.

After a moment, something else is scribbled in the corner; a couple stylized Asian-looking characters (南山) accompanied by the initials 'K.N.' A few in the city might recognize this signature as that of a local artist and college instructor.*

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[ Fortunately (or unfortunately, however you will) there is at least one fan of Keisuke Nanzan's original work on the other side of this network. Elizabeth happens to be taking this moment to do some more information gathering and-- ]

Professor Nanzan??

*there's a very, very long pause before a reply comes from the other side of wherever Keisuke is writing/drawing:*

I don't recall writing my name here--

And I think I'm beginning to be very tired of strange things happening.

Oh, no, Professor! You're not the only one writing.

Are you not on a computer? The same thing happened to me. I was scribbling on some drafting paper.

This will be a little bit hard to explain at your canvas, I'm afraid.

Are you free to meet at your office today?

[LOOK HE DREW SOMETHING TOO JUST 4 U PROFESSOR]

*Keisuke has no idea how the fuck this shit got in his sketchbook and he's more than a little bit disturbed, so he's just going to start trying to erase parts of it. Goodbye happy sunglass sun.*

*there's another long pause before a reply starts to appear again.*

I suspect I need to visit the campus mental health office rather than my own, but let's say I'll humor you for a second and agree to visit you. Who are you and how do you know what's going on here?

I'm out and about, but I suppose I shouldn't loiter around this statue too much longer, anyway.

[[Those building hints are going to be filled in with better detail now, with a far more careful hand and style.

And a small ferret at the statue's base, looking as if it were scorning it.]]

It's Elizabeth, the strange girl who isn't in any of your classes but stops by anyway to loiter? I'm still waiting to hear on whether or not any of your paintings are for sale, you know.

[ Hopefully that's enough to ring a bell. ]

Let's just say this is a kind of network, and I've been on it for a little while now. I can explain things much more effectively in person if you have the time.

*...okay seriously what is wrong with Keisuke today, is he hallucinating or is this some kind of weird automatic writing... automatic drawing? But he's not moving his own hand at all right now--

He has absolutely no idea what's going on (or that it's connected to that number he absently jotted down above his sketch earlier), so for now he just tries something at random -- the poor ferret's tail starts to disappear.*

A network? As in the computing kind?

Elizabeth, this isn't a tablet or something. I'm writing in my perfectly, utterly mundane sketchbook.

I'll head back to my office at once. I trust you have the time right now, since you're offering?

[[hey hey hey, no. Filling that in again, you leave poor ferret-chan's tail alone!]]

That's the same thing that's in the police station. Did you touch that statue?

Well I'm fairly certain my department didn't get in any magic drafting paper either.

I'm about fifteen minutes away!

*Euphie winds up being closer to twenty minutes before she stumbles into Keisuke's office, a little out of breath and bearing gifts. This is no kind of news to take on an empty stomach, after all! So she went to the grocery store and bought a dozen assorted muffins. And tea. She's brought a box of tea, because she knows Keisuke keeps a kettle in here somewhere.*

Professor~?

*She knocks lightly on the door, listening for movement within.*

*but the tail starts to disappear again. Whatever the hell is going on here, Keisuke really only came to get a look at this statue...

Maybe he's just tired? Is he somehow-- drawing random extras without really thinking about it?

This time he starts to fill in the ground around the ferret with some heavier shadowing so he won't be tempted to add it back in again. ....if that's what he's actually doing.*

*it takes several moments before Banagher gets an answer back.*

I refuse to start writing notes to myself. Between you and Elizabeth this is getting ridiculous... Apparently I need to get out of the Dead District and into some sort of counseling office.

Hey, I spent like 4 hours on this don't erase my hard work! [Is scribbled on the paper quickly.

He starts trying to put the sunglasses back]

[[A small pouting face appears nearby, accompanied by the handwriting:]]

What do you have against ferrets?

*the teacher is already inside, offending sketchbook still full of activity where it's sitting on a table next to his computer; at the knock Keisuke rises a bit warily to open the door.

Upon seeing his visitor is in fact Elizabeth Bishop, he just... stares down at her for a second with a slightly baffled look before stepping to one side, ushering her into the cramped little office.*

Ah... Good afternoon, Miss Bishop... Although 'good' may be a slightly loose term in this case. *squinting at her a little, holding out his hands in a wordless offer to help with whatever she's carrying. He's already made sure the door is firmly shut and locked behind them.*

[ Whoa hold the phone the next words come busting out very quickly. ]

—Elizabeth? Wait it's not like that at all! I can't give you the mechanics, because I don't really know them myself, but

You're definitely talking to another person, not yourself. Or your notes. It's because you copied a number somewhere.

Figments of my imagination don't get to draw random rubbish in my sketchbook. I can't believe I'm even writing this, Keisuke what is wrong with you...

*next the top of the tree starts to disappear.*

Professor omg stop i drew you a lovely picture and this is how you repay me. i thought what we had was special.

Oh, please. Lizzie is fine. Or Elizabeth if you must. And nonsense, it's a perfectly good afternoon. We're both in good health, the weather is nice, we've got tea and assorted muffins...

Oh, and we're both perfectly sane! ...well, at least no more or less sane than we were a week ago at any rate.

*She winks at him at that, then obligingly hands over the muffins before looking around for that kettle-- Aha! It turns out to be a water boiler, but it really functions all the same. Don't mind her as she reaches casually into her bag and pulls out two mugs she brought from home, just in case Keisuke wasn't prepared to entertain guests in his university office.

Filling them up with hot water, she starts the tea steeping, humming to herself a little as she goes.*

I don't care a thing about ferrets one way or another

*those words are violently scratched out a moment later, followed by some rushed handwriting*

what is wrong with me, where in god's name is all this coming from

But how could that number up there

*the writing pauses for a second before continuing*

I suppose you can't see it? Who are you? How in the world can someone else be writing in my sketchbook??

Are you talking to me? Am I talking to myself somehow? This makes no sense

*there goes part of the cat.*

[[Wait. Another newbie?]]

There's a number on your paper. Erase it, then write it on something else. Or put it in your phone. Then I'll explain.

*Keisuke just stares at her rather dumbfounded for another second or three before heaving a deep sigh, then walking over to set down the muffins next to his water boiler*

Just start from the beginning, would you--... Elizabeth?

*digging out some saucers and napkins, and absently turning back to take a second glance at her with a thoughtful frown*

....come to think of it, have you dyed your hair?

*somewhere on the other end of the connection, Keisuke stares down at his sketchpad dubiously for several very long moments, then closes it to start packing up his things. On his way to the bus stop leading out of the Dead District he pulls out his phone and tries this textual stranger's suggestion.*

All right, are you there? Whoever was just writing in my sketchbook, provided this isn't all some product of my possibly diseased imagination. This way feels more natural at least.

...oh, yes, about that.

*Elizabeth pauses long enough to set the mugs on the saucers, then hands one to Keisuke before gesturing for him to sit. She takes a seat as well, crossing her legs at the ankles before giving him a slightly awkward shrug as she peers over at him curiously.*

I've been telling people that, but--! I imagine if you had one of those network access codes, something similar must have happened to you...?

As far as I can tell, these things have been seemingly spontaneously happening to people. And when they happen, you get your number that gains you access to the network.

For me, I was just having a normal day at school when this boy--Kris--found out about, well. About Bishop International. You'd think this was middle school! He knocked my books out of my hand and jeered at me for being a princess.

I took a minute to compose myself in the bathroom, and when I came out again... Well, my hair's been like this ever since. I hear other people have experienced everything from physical changes to memories-- Even objects!

Yeah. I'm still here. And not a hallucination, honest!

[[not that a hallucination wouldn't say the same thing, but...]]

Whenever you put those numbers in, this network will appear. So careful with it.

[[A short pause]]

Did everything go back to normal on your sketch when you erased the number, BTW?

[[he... maybe feel a little bad that he was just drawing over someone else's art in hindsight.]]

Then you're saying that your hair just spontaneously...?

*he blinks at her for a moment longer before finally resuming his own office chair, scratching his head with a deep sigh.*

I really don't know what to make of any of this... And as far as I know I don't have any "access codes", unless it's this thing we're talking about.

*he picks up the sketchbook, still seemingly alive with activity, to gesture toward the number scribbled near the top of the page.*

As far as I can remember, nothing out of the ordinary has happened to me lately. I suppose I was sick the other week, but -- surely you're not about to tell me having the flu somehow triggered all sorts of impossible supernatural events?

What do you know about all this, Elizabeth? *looking slightly exasperated and mostly worried, sighing as he stares over at her, one arm leaned against his desk.*

It still has half a ferret on it, if that's what you're asking.

Sorry....

Only what I've learned from reading the network so far. You should know, Professor--

*Elizabeth's expression sobers as she sits up a little straighter, frowning as her mind comes to more troubling thoughts.*

Someone's been killed. In relation to all of this. His name was Paul Ben, and we believe he was killed in connection to this phenomena that's happening to us all now. There are more details on the network that I've been trying to organize, but...

I believe the most important thing to stress right now is that this is a very sensitive topic, and everyone involved needs to be careful.

It was more for fun than anything really, I suppose you're forgiven. Even if I am still utterly baffled as to how you did it.

What do I call you?

Bakura

And anything you write that number on becomes how you connect to the network, no matter what it is. No one's figured out how it works yet.

*Keisuke purses his lips at that, and nudges his sketchbook aside to set his mug down, idly bobbing his teabag in it. His expression is stern, but not disbelieving per se--

He does in fact know this young lady, remembers seeing her eager face observing in the back at several of his lectures, remembers how ridiculously polite and earnest she's always been. He can't believe Elizabeth Bishop is the type to make up such a bizarre and -- gruesome, apparently? -- story for fun.*

...All right then, let me see if I have my facts straight. What I seem to be hearing is there are any number of people about who've had bizarre things happen to them, things that seem downright supernatural. And after these events, each person found themselves in possession of a number that let them check into some kind of... psychic network. *he pauses to frown* And for some reason, someone considers this network a thing worth killing over--

Wait, wasn't Paul Ben part of that poor family who died in the arson...? *lips pursing further*

At any rate, if I have all that right -- how could something like this be possible? Metaphysics is about five thousand miles away from my field--... *giving another sigh, massaging his temples a moment before he goes to throw away his tea bag*

And most importantly... Why?

Hello, Bakura. I'm Keisuke.

Can I assume you don't know what it's for either, then?

Not especially. There's a few theories going around, but I don't think anyone has a good idea. But we all seem to have some common experiences; weird things that happen, either having weird visions or suddenly having an ability that wasn't there before or something like that.

Did you touch the statue...?

Of course not. I'd never want to disturb another artist's work, even if it's admittedly on the creepy side.

I can't say I recall anything out of the ordinary happening to *me* lately outside my sketchbook deciding to talk back... although this city as a whole certainly seems unsettled recently. Did you experience one of those strange events?

Quite a few of them. That statue triggered a vision too, when I got near it.

[[because saying "When I attacked it" to someone who views it as art... well... just seems mean.]]

You're correct about Paul-- I've been told that it's suspected his family was murdered to further cover-up his involvement. We're still not certain why he was killed, only that he got too close to something. Or perhaps simply alerted the wrong people.

I'm afraid at the moment we have far more questions than we have answers.

*She sighs a little at that, then decides it's nigh on time for a muffin. She leans over to open the box, poking around until-- Yes, perfect! Nothing softens reality-bending news like cranberry orange muffins. And they're even vaguely partially more healthy than chocolate chip or the like.

(Shh, she knows it's a tenuous claim but she's going to make it. She has supporting evidence prepared!)

She plucks one out and holds it out to Keisuke in offering.*

I can show you how to better access the network if you'd like, and we can go over the facts that I do know, but, ah... 'Why' is a little bit beyond me for the moment.

Although I do intend to get to the bottom of this, whatever it takes.

No, I can't see it... but everyone who can talk this way has one. Once you enter it on something, like a phone, or a computer, or even paper, it opens up some kind of channel to talk through. Like I said, that's all I know...

But, I'm Banagher. I go to the high school, the university twice a week.

[ Then, a beat. ]

I'm really sorry if I ruined your sketch!

If you've been working so diligently on this and still don't know why it's all happening, I suppose we have to assume there's a reason it's not clear yet.

*he sighs a little, accepts the muffin with a dubious look and... finally, reluctantly takes a bite.

...yes okay it's a good muffin shush.*

I suppose I'd better take you up on that... I'm really just a simple artist, but if something dangerous is happening here, forewarned is forearmed. And-- ah. *raising an eyebrow, finally dredging up one of his usual gentle smiles from somewhere* I appreciate that you would offer. It really is a shame I don't have you as a proper student.

I'm afraid I'm a lost cause when it comes to anything with a brush... I'm really more of an admirer of the arts than a practitioner, at any rate.

*Elizabeth admits this a bit reluctantly, flushing slightly as she gives a little pouting sigh. She should've paid more attention to her art instructor as a child, something she regrets intensely now. Oh well.

She's smiling again not long after, gesturing over to his computer.*

May I, then? I think it's terribly handy that we can access the network from just about anywhere, but it makes a lot more sense from a computer.

I hope I'm not interrupting, sir, but...

[Though it seems that there were plenty of others that have already done so...]

Was this intended to be some sort of last-minute assignment? It's not your typical subject matter, if I may say so.

I'M talking to you. You accessed the network.

Stop erasing my masterpiece!

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