[GP/EP] Check-In Day: Pastabilities

[st_arkravinghazelnut]

The last check-in day had come and gone as quietly as most other days, but Tony had made it a point to linger around the lobby every two weeks. It was tradition, after all. You could only be cynical about a pink eldritch prison for so long before you felt the need to inject some decorum, however half-assed.

During a quiet trip to a Wisconsin suburb Otherworlds, Tony had snagged an old Harley-Davidson calendar at a garage sale (why not), unique in that the previous owner had filled every single square with national holidays. Today was National Linguine Day. Truly, the most hallowed of all holidays. To celebrate, he made an order to the kitchen to bless the inn with trays of pasta, inclusive to all diets. No gluten or dairy for him, see how long that lasted.

Despite the swift approach of fall, San Luis Obispo boasted sun and 70 degree weather, so Tony arranged a chair and table outside and fiddled with a little mechanical orb the size of a jawbreaker. He prodded at its insides with a screwdriver while his half-eaten pasta dish sat ignored, his glasses magnifying the orb's internal features.

Comments

[st_illfive]

"I'd start with a less layered question, but that's me." Five (Owen, he had to remember to try Owen) sipped his margarita on his way out of the bar, watching the new girl. Sixteen or seventeen, if he had to guess, definitely new, but didn't look inclined to either tears or panic.

Good. He'd have felt very briefly bad about walking around a crying girl. "I personally started with 'what the fuck', but that's just because I didn't expect a good answer."

[st_mj]

MJ snorted in amusement at the young boy in front of her. "I considered starting with that but I figured that I should get some actual answers before I freaked out. I mean considered freaking out but there's no point. It wouldn't get me anywhere. They're not very helpful. What questions did you find the best to ask?" she asked curiously.

[st_illfive]

"Actual answers! Dare to dream, kiddo." Owen took another sip of his margarita. "My questions wouldn't help you much, but I can take a stab at answering yours."

He gestured around. "In one sense, you're in central California, at a place called the Madonna Inn. In another sense, you're in a pocket dimension of varying size that looks exactly like the Madonna Inn in central California. Third option is that you've entered an interdimensional hub and roach motel... that looks exactly like the Madonna Inn. Pick whichever of those three you like, more than one, or come up with your own."

[st_mj]

MJ tilted her head and studied him. "So basically I'm at the Madonna Inn. Well it could be a worse place to be," she shrugged. She'd never actually been there nor had she heard of it but based on the lobby it looked ok. She'd see what she thought of it though once she figured out the question. "And the fact that you're here and not at home means...?" she asked curiously.

[st_illfive]

"Mostly that I haven't figured out how to get home, but the actual answer is interdimensional roach motel. This place grabs people and doesn't let go." He shrugged. "I've been stuck in worse places. At least this one's got food and a roof."

He tilted his head, evaluating her, then continued. "People get yanked here from different universes, different times, or both. If you see someone from where you were, they may not have come from when you were, and they may've been here for a while. I hear it's disorienting."

[st_mj]

MJ tilted her head on the side and studied the young man - boy? - in front of her. "Well that's just annoying," she said dryly. "It can't even be polite and pull us all from the same time. I could handle different universes alone but no there's time travel involved too. Of course it couldn't have been easy." The sarcasm dripped from her as she spoke but she couldn't help it. She'd seen a lot of stuff back home from aliens and disappearing and coming back to life.

"Is there any way to know in advance or is it just a matter of luck?"

[st_illfive]

"I wouldn't call it luck. But chance, sure." Owen shrugged. "Or at least, if there's a reason or a pattern nothing's bothered to make it readable."

[st_mj]

"Huh. I'd hope it would make it shareable because surely nothing is truly ever properly random," MJ shrugged. "I'm Michelle by the way," she said introducing herself.