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<blockquote data-quote="Fanog" data-source="post: 916122" data-attributes="member: 10680"><p><em>Taylor's townhouse</em></p><p><em>London, England</em></p><p><em>October 2002, around 9 PM</em></p><p></p><p>The man before Taylor, blonde-haired and with a rather square jaw, looks at him and nods.</p><p></p><p>"Of course. The person I'm talking about is called Dr. Franks, he's active in the field of 'applied philosophy'." Taylor isn't really sure if he has ever heard that term before, but he can make quite some guesses as to what it <em>might</em> entail. In his field of interest, it isn't all that rare to see new terms coined at every possibility.</p><p></p><p>"You can meet him right now, he is waiting for you in the car," The man takes a step to the side, raising his arm to the vehicle in front of Taylor's house and making way for Taylor, "...if you are still interested."</p><p></p><p><span style="color: silver">OoC: Taylor</span></p><p>_______________________</p><p></p><p><em>Cavendish Laboratory, room 13.114</em></p><p><em>Cambridge, England</em></p><p><em>October 2002, late evening</em></p><p></p><p>Ty flipped over the card hoping for more explanations, but didn't find any other writing on it. He made his way through the near-empty building, needing his key card to exit the building.</p><p></p><p>As he was halfway on his trip home, Ty suddenly found that he couldn't quite remember how the drive had been so far. He <em>knew</em> that he had stepped into his car and had driven the few first streets on the way home, but it all just seemed a blur. It gave him the feeling like he had when he had drank too much, or when he was just realy engrossed in thinking of some theory or experiment during lunch; the feeling that his mind wasn't anywhere <em>near</em> the task he was currently doing.</p><p></p><p>It just then hit him that he was actually still thinking about the theories detailed in the book. He had taken his eyes of the pages, but his mind had never left the thought experiments and theorems that were written on them, as clear as if he <em>were</em> still reading.</p><p></p><p>The loud sound of a car horn shook Ty awake once again. A reflexive step on the brakes was all that seperated him from a run-in with a rather large pick-up truck coming from the left, his car halting with screeching tires.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: silver">OoC: Ty</span></p><p>_______________________</p><p></p><p><em>On the Court, Pepsi Center (?)</em></p><p><em>Denver, Colorado (?)</em></p><p><em>October 2002 (?)</em></p><p></p><p>Leo unfolded his legs and stood up, turning around. His actions felt weird, as if someone else were performing the movements at the same time that Leo thought about them.</p><p></p><p>Not surprisingly - or maybe most surprisingly - the man that had adressed Leo was none other than the off man that he had encountered in the catacombs. Only this time, the man was dressed in white flowing pants and bare-chested. The man had no hat of car, his grayish-white haur flowing freely in the chilling mountain wind.</p><p></p><p>Even while Leo pushed off of the ground for his jump, the man shook his head and spoke again in the same foreign, but understandable, words. "No, that is not good. Not yet... But you are close. Run up and down the mountain again, and <em>then</em> you will succeed..."</p><p></p><p>In his jump, Leo vision changed to white again. The whites made way for the sight of big lamp, and shadows coming from the side of his vision. "Hey, Leo. Leo! Wake up.... Come on guys, give him some room to breathe."</p><p></p><p>His vision cleared up, revealing several people hunched over him: the team medic, the referee and some of his team mates. All of them had quite worried looks on their faces.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: silver">OoC: Leo</span></p><p>_______________________</p><p></p><p><em>3 Bears Motel</em></p><p><em>Seattle, Washington</em></p><p><em>early saturday morning, October 2002</em></p><p></p><p>Dreams are plagueing Charles Arctor's sleep that night.</p><p></p><p>He found himself in the bar from that night, ready to leave. He stepped out the door, only to enter another bar, quite similar to the one he just left. He recognized it as being some bar that he had visited a few months earlier, somewhere down south. He kept leaving bars, only to enter another that he had visited at some time during his wanderings.</p><p></p><p>And every once in a while, he found himself back at Bad Albert's Tap and Grill... A six-foot tall, bipedal cat was standing behind the bar pourig beers for the customers, while a young woman with dark curls sat on the stage, singing forlorn songs...</p><p></p><p><span style="color: silver">OoC: Charles</span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Fanog, post: 916122, member: 10680"] [i]Taylor's townhouse London, England October 2002, around 9 PM[/i] The man before Taylor, blonde-haired and with a rather square jaw, looks at him and nods. "Of course. The person I'm talking about is called Dr. Franks, he's active in the field of 'applied philosophy'." Taylor isn't really sure if he has ever heard that term before, but he can make quite some guesses as to what it [i]might[/i] entail. In his field of interest, it isn't all that rare to see new terms coined at every possibility. "You can meet him right now, he is waiting for you in the car," The man takes a step to the side, raising his arm to the vehicle in front of Taylor's house and making way for Taylor, "...if you are still interested." [COLOR=silver]OoC: Taylor[/COLOR] _______________________ [i]Cavendish Laboratory, room 13.114 Cambridge, England October 2002, late evening[/i] Ty flipped over the card hoping for more explanations, but didn't find any other writing on it. He made his way through the near-empty building, needing his key card to exit the building. As he was halfway on his trip home, Ty suddenly found that he couldn't quite remember how the drive had been so far. He [i]knew[/i] that he had stepped into his car and had driven the few first streets on the way home, but it all just seemed a blur. It gave him the feeling like he had when he had drank too much, or when he was just realy engrossed in thinking of some theory or experiment during lunch; the feeling that his mind wasn't anywhere [i]near[/i] the task he was currently doing. It just then hit him that he was actually still thinking about the theories detailed in the book. He had taken his eyes of the pages, but his mind had never left the thought experiments and theorems that were written on them, as clear as if he [i]were[/i] still reading. The loud sound of a car horn shook Ty awake once again. A reflexive step on the brakes was all that seperated him from a run-in with a rather large pick-up truck coming from the left, his car halting with screeching tires. [COLOR=silver]OoC: Ty[/COLOR] _______________________ [i]On the Court, Pepsi Center (?) Denver, Colorado (?) October 2002 (?)[/i] Leo unfolded his legs and stood up, turning around. His actions felt weird, as if someone else were performing the movements at the same time that Leo thought about them. Not surprisingly - or maybe most surprisingly - the man that had adressed Leo was none other than the off man that he had encountered in the catacombs. Only this time, the man was dressed in white flowing pants and bare-chested. The man had no hat of car, his grayish-white haur flowing freely in the chilling mountain wind. Even while Leo pushed off of the ground for his jump, the man shook his head and spoke again in the same foreign, but understandable, words. "No, that is not good. Not yet... But you are close. Run up and down the mountain again, and [i]then[/i] you will succeed..." In his jump, Leo vision changed to white again. The whites made way for the sight of big lamp, and shadows coming from the side of his vision. "Hey, Leo. Leo! Wake up.... Come on guys, give him some room to breathe." His vision cleared up, revealing several people hunched over him: the team medic, the referee and some of his team mates. All of them had quite worried looks on their faces. [COLOR=silver]OoC: Leo[/COLOR] _______________________ [i]3 Bears Motel Seattle, Washington early saturday morning, October 2002[/i] Dreams are plagueing Charles Arctor's sleep that night. He found himself in the bar from that night, ready to leave. He stepped out the door, only to enter another bar, quite similar to the one he just left. He recognized it as being some bar that he had visited a few months earlier, somewhere down south. He kept leaving bars, only to enter another that he had visited at some time during his wanderings. And every once in a while, he found himself back at Bad Albert's Tap and Grill... A six-foot tall, bipedal cat was standing behind the bar pourig beers for the customers, while a young woman with dark curls sat on the stage, singing forlorn songs... [COLOR=silver]OoC: Charles[/COLOR] [/QUOTE]
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