a not so dingy office in the sub-basement

who: kaori and open to stan, addison and brianna
where: computerland among other places
when: mid morning

When she'd woken, one of the first things she truly noted was that she wasn't lying in a bed. She was very comfortable, certainly, but not in a bed. It was a familiar place, though. She'd spent the night on the couch in her office in the sub basement of the mansion plenty of times. When she sat up, it was the strangest sensation, looking around, the office just as she'd left it. There was even one of her case notes closed on her desk where she'd been writing into it. Looking over at her picture frame 'windows', she saw different views in them, one where it was showing the familiar tree line outside the mansion, snow falling gently. Another showing a view of the lake. The third showed her summer, Rain's garden.

Getting up, she noted that she was still in her pajamas, but she'd always kept spare clothes in the bathroom down here in the first place, just in case. She walked to her desk, and opened one of the drawers, finding her keys. Walking over to the locked hall, she opened it up, and turned on the lights, the flouresents not quite catching immediately, and one down at the end that always flickered regardless. She saw her rose of locked glass cabinets that made up the hall, medications she could use, she saw the straight jackets. And, down at the end, she saw the padded rooms. She dashed up the hall to open them up, to make sure no one was in there and luckily, no one was. For a moment, she was terrified that Twitch would still be in there, or something else awful. God...this was difficult to deal with. She had to pause, though, because in the center of the padded rooms, she saw a computer. It was out of place, as well, and it had a message on it. After replying back, she went to see if there were others, and there were. There was one out by the elevator in the main hall that led to her office, (though the elevator didn't work. The button lit up, but never called the lift) one in the active therapy room with all the toys and giant crayons, foam bats, one in one of the patient rooms she'd been provided, then there was hers in her office on her desk. That one didn't appear to connect to anyone else, it just brought up her journal.

After getting herself slightly less frazzled with some tea, she went to leave messages for people on the other computers. This is Dr. Kaori Miike. I'm unsure what's happening at the moment, but wanted to check in with whomever these computers are connected to. Who are you, where are you, and is everything alright?

 - .

Stan was really confused. He didn't know what was going on. he didn't remember going to sleep, but when he woke up, he was in his bed. His bed - the bed he'd shared with Carrie. In the room he'd shared with Carrie. In the house that had been sold as part of the divorce settlement. That wasn't right. But, it was definitely their room - the only thing that was missing was Carrie herself, which immediately made him sad. But he should have been starting his new job today. In Russia. He shouldn't have been here at all - it was impossible. He got out of bed, ignoring the chirrup of the computer that was sat on the dressing table - something which, had he not been so thrown right now, he would have noticed as also being completely out of place.

He investigated what was outside the bedroom door - which was different, but the same. A hallway, decorated in the same way as the hallway in his old home, but a different shape. There was another table with a computer on it there. That one he noticed more. He looked in the other rooms - bathroom, kitchen, living room. Each decorated just the same as his had been. Each room had a computer in it.

Stan was officially freaked now. he walked in his pyjamas back to the bedroom, and saw the computer flashing at him. Sitting down at his wife's dresser, he opened the message and read it, before tentatively replying. hello. This is Dr Stanley Robinson. I'm apparently in my house. Except, my house is in Minnesota and I expected to be in Russia. And I sold my house last year. And, it's not really the same.

 - .

When the first reply came through, Kaori rushed over to the computer it had come through on, and sat down. The word 'dr.' caught her attention, and part of her was relieved, while part of her felt an irrational stab of pain because it wasn't Dave. But, Kaori wasn't given to being irrational for long, or taking it out on anyone, so she didn't in this case either. Hello, Dr. Robinson. You likely are in Russia. I'm sorry to be the one to explain this to you, but you are in a situation where whatever you have previously been told, was a lie. There was no rescue. We were in town until this morning, when I'm assuming we have all woken up someplace that appears to be a location from our pasts. Mine happens to be my office from my own experiment. Are you alright?

 - .

Stan frowned as he read that, no less confused than he had been a moment ago. Who was this woman? What was all of this? Please, call me Stan. And I don't think you explained that very well. What rescue? You said there wasn't one - should there have been one in the first place? Who was being rescued? What experiment? he sent, then realised that he hadn't addressed her question and hurried to do that. I'm fine - confused, I don't really know what's going on. But I'm physically fine.

 - .

She read the message, and realize she'd been assuming that he was a participant. I apologize, I had assumed you were someone who had come in from the experiments. Can you explain to me why you thought you were in Russia? I can attempt to explain better if I know your circumstances. Were you a volunteer? she sent to him, thinking she should have thought of that before leaping to conclusions. Did that mean she was slipping? Quite possibly. Damn.

 - .

Finally, something he could actually get his head around. Yes - I volunteered. This organisation put it together, I wanted to help people and they told me that I'd be going to Russia. Something about trauma and helping people put their lives back together. They said they needed medical staff and it sounded like just the thing that I'd wanted to do. Not that I was really picky about where I got sent. I flew out to Russia the other day, and then I've just woken up in a mock up of my old house, and there's you sending me messages. he typed. He really didn't know what was going on here.

 - .

She sighed to herself. This wasn't going to be pleasant. Stan, I'm sorry to tell you this, but whatever you were told, wasn't the truth. What you've gotten yourself into is complicated, but I'll try to boil it down. There was a large scale social experiment that was advertised. It was meant to take a full year, and people were told to tell their families and friends they were going on a pilgrimage--or likely any other reason to explain their absence. It was meant to be high stress, however the levels of that were far more elevated than anyone had expected.

To make a long story short, there were five experiments in total, something none of us were aware of until a while back when we were all told we were 'rescued'. We were brought to a small town in Russia, to supposedly be helped, rehabilitated, and to be compensated for all that had happened. That, and what we were told was miles of red tape, government-wise. Volunteers were brought in, and the town was populated with them, some interns that worked for the project, as of course, the experiment participants.

What this is is merely another phase of the test. Unfortunately, you are now a part of that. Am I making sense so far?

 - .

Stan read the reply, but it didn't really make sense to him. Or, well, the words did, but... I didn't volunteer for any experiment. I volunteered to go and help people. I'm a doctor. I didn't sign any consent for anything like this. I've done clinical trials in the past, I know how these things work. he wrote, but even that much took a while to get out of him. What was going on here?

 - .

This was why being the bearer of bad news was never pleasant. There was always that stage of denial. I'm afraid they've stopped paying attention to things of that nature. When we get out of here, I'm sure you'll win the lawsuit, but sadly, I don't believe there is any way out of this. You are here now. Again, apologies. Are you alright?

 - .

Was he alright? Physically, sure, but the rest. he needed to process this. I'm going to go now. And think about things. I need to take some time. Thank you for your information he sent, knowing it was overly formal, but what else was there to say?

 - .

Perhaps she should reply to that message from Kaori. She didn't want to leave Camber and Scott's messages hanging. Not with that OD'ing girl or whatever. But she was late to the message and when she realized that Kaori had addressed herself as 'Dr. Kaori Miike', Brianna felt utterly foolish. If she recalled, this was the psychologist or what have you...

So Brianna settled in front of the computer and started typing furiously, My name is Brianna. What kind of doctor are you again? This is dreadfully important. Even if you're not a medical doctor, maybe you know what to do about an ODing person when you can't touch, see or bring any thing into their room? Apparently Brett has one on his system. I don't know what she took.

 - .

When she got a response back from Brianna, Kaori sat down slowly. Oh dear. That? Was not good. Though...there was Stan. She could ask him. Hello, Brianna, I'm a psychiatrist. However, I am in contact with a medical doctor who's just been put into things, so he's still confused, but I'm sure he can help. Can you get as much information for me as you can? What she's taking, how much of it she's taken, how long it has been, etc? I will contact Dr. Robinson.

 - .

Right, I thought so... I wasn't sure if I was remembering your journals correctly or not. Damn it. Why couldn't she have a direct line to this Stan person herself? It would have been much more helpful. This was just starting to piss her off now if someone was in danger. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she frowned deeply... Headache forming. I'll have to ask Camber. I don't know when I'll get a response back because she's getting her information sent by another person... This is so horrible.

 - .

Kaori had to side with Brianna. Agreed. I'll be waiting for answers, however, both from you, and Dr. Robinson. I've asked him if there's any advice he can give with just generalities without the specifics, the moment I have anything, I will let you know. Now, hopefully, he wasn't going to ignore his messages...

 - .

Okay, this was going to be difficult. She started moving between two computers, very slowly composing a message and transcribing information. She would have gone through Scott but since Kaori was also a doctorly type (although not the right kind), this seemed to make more sense. Finally a response. Here we go:

Brett says he doesn't know. It's more identifying by color than knowing what the girl takes. She has short-term memory issues and wears a watch that's supposed to beep and remind her when to take pills. Apparently it's not working right or something and she's taken some extra doses but not a whole bottle. It's not on purpose and it's over time. Also apparently she's been "drinking" with them. I can only assume alcohol in that context as Camber was not specific.

Apparently she's kind of tired and described how she feels as "when you're sick and you take medicine so it doesn't hurt but you can still tell you're not well."

God, that had taken so long to type going back and forth with information... Hopefully it wasn't too late to do anything.

 - .

Back to the computer with Brianna. I have given the information to the Dr, and will get you his advice as soon as I can. My own suggestion is keeping her awake and talking, as much as that can be done. And to keep her calm. Panicking won't help her right now, so if she can just be kept occupied and in an even state of mind, that would likely be best for her in the current circumstances. If there's anyone who's close to her that she could talk to, or people could get messages from, that may help ground her in the here and now. If she is unaware that there are many people working to aid her, this may be something that would be good to inform her of. It will help her to think she isn't alone in this.

As a personal note--if you have not been thanked for your involvement in helping this woman, thank you.

 - .

She'd been giving Stan time, but this was an emergency. Dr. Robinson? Stan? I know you needed time and I want to give that to you, however I've been contacted with a potential emergency, with someone asking what to do with someone who has possibly overdosed. Do you have any advice I can give before we get specific information? Anything you can tell us we would be grateful for.

 - .

Stan had been ignoring the computers, but he got two messages within minutes of each other and the beeping was hard to ignore. He headed for Kaori's computer in the bedroom first of all. Overdose? Accidentally or on purpose? Do we know what? And how much? Are they still conscious? Initially, there's not that much we can do if we cannot get to the patient. Surely she wouldn't be left to suffer and she would be removed for medical treatment.

 - .

Kaori read the reply from Stan, and sighed. This just wasn't good. Right now, this poor man was being tossed in on the deep end, wasn't he? With no warning, even. Well, at least she'd written down in a notebook what Brianna had said, so she could get it back to Stan as accurately as possible. In a sane world where this was a legal experiment, that would hold true, unfortunately, that isn't the case. As someone who witnessed many deaths in my own experiment, I know for a fact they would let her die, if that was what was happening to her. The information I have gotten states that it's likely prescription medication, accidental, extra doses but not the whole bottle, still conscious, but sleepy. Also, this description: "when you're sick and you take medicine so it doesn't hurt but you can still tell you're not well."

 - .

Stan read the message and knew he'd already sent the required information back through Scott, but he was a diligent type. It took him a while, but he transcribed what he'd written previously - the best way to ensure that wires didn't get crossed or misinformation filtered through in the retelling.

I have already sent the following message back throguh another person. I wrote:

Thank you for the information. Tell her that she needs to keep an eye on her pulse rate. The easiest way for her to do that is if she puts her fingers moderately hard against the hollow to either side of her windpipe on her neck. It's best to use her fingers, rather than her thumb, especially if she's having trouble finding it. The beat should be steady and not too fast. And it should be strong. You say she's got memory issues, so I'm not going to ask her to count beats, but steady, not too fast, and strong. Same for her breathing.

The tiredness could be a symptom of the drugs, or it could just be that she's tired - without knowing what she's taken, it's hard to tell. When was the last time she slept, and for how long? If she knows. It's best to err on the side of caution though and figure that it's the drugs. Staying awake would be best given the circumstances, especially since she's alone. If she -does- have to go to sleep, she should try and position herself on her front, supported with blankets and pillows so she can't roll over while she's asleep. This is important.

If she feels sick, being sick won't do her any harm. Depending on how long it has been since she took the medication, it may help, but it's likely it's too late for that.

Really, there's very little that can be done without someone else there, and without facilities. She definitely needs to stop drinking alcohol! But she should know that already if she has medication that reacts with it!!

 - hello

Addison had woken up in a room that was only as comfortable as she could be, unfortunately, and that wasn't very comfortable at all. Especially when separated from other people from her experiment. So she'd explored a bit, very tentatively, before wrapping herself in a comforter and sitting on the couch.

See, the room was replica of the apartment her and her grandmother had occupied before Addison signed onto the experiments and her grandmother went to live in an assisted living facility for low-income seniors. Addison had slept on a pull-out couch, and her grandmother had taken the only bedroom. The room had the same walls that were originally tan but had taken on a coating of nicotine yellow, the carpet was still the same unidentifiable shade of not-quite-brown but was still in good repair. One of the computers looked like the old one she had at home (except the screen didn't have dead pixels on the upper left corner, and was very obviously much better than the one she'd left behind), and was even sitting in the same place on the scratched and worn desk that had been salvaged at a yard sale that had wheels on the bottom so that Addi could turn it and sit on the couch to use it. The other computers in the room looked much newer, though. There was the little kitchenette in the room, with the toaster oven that had been retrieved at the same yard sale. The surprisingly big bathroom with the mirror that was slightly cracked in one corner and the shower that continually dripped, every five seconds right on the button, a drop of cold water. And the hall closet that had her and her grandmother's coats and shoes neatly sitting in it. The dining room table - again, a yard sale find, though at a different one - was covered in her art things from home; a regular occurrence back in the apartment that her grandmother encouraged. The old stereo system above her new/old computer and the dozen or so ripped-off CDs, and through the oldness and the general air of grunge in spite of everything being as clean as it could be, the plants. The ones her grandmother cared for as if they were her grandchildren just like Addison. Every free available surface.

Addison's grandmother had been forced to give up most of them when she'd moved.

Addison had woken up and, in spite of the computers, had attempted to call for her grandmother. But the words had caught in her throat and she couldn't speak. And there was no door to her grandmother's room, either.

She sighed, realizing that of course being home again was too good to be true, and went over to the stereo. Running her fingers over the front cover, she opened it up and popped in a CD - her space mix one - before choking down a sudden wave of homesickness and checking all the computers.

My name is Addison, I'm in a room without a door, and things are rarely alright when it comes to these experiments, but I've been in worse situations. How are you?

 - .

I've also got someone trying to locate a doctor. May I ask what you happen to be a doctor of?

 - .

Kaori got over to that computer, and replied promptly. Greetings, Addison. I am a psychiatrist. Are you trying to find a doctor because of the woman who's overdosed, or because of another emergency? If it's about the overdose, that information has been passed on, though any other information you have would be helpful. If not, please state your emergency, and I will pass on the information to Dr. Robinson, who I am in direct contact with.

 - .

Addi was seriously considering rearranging the room, if the cables were long enough, so that she wouldn't have to keep going in circles. I don't know. No other information was passed on to me. I'll find out.

 - .

Kaori read the message, and was at the very least relieved that it wasn't some new emergency. She didn't suspect Stan was dealing so well right now. Thank you very much, for any information you have. I'm glad you don't have any new crisis situations to report.

 - .

It was the drug-overdose. Sorry about that. I'm glad to know that at least a medical doctor was notified of the emergency. Is there anything I can do to help otherwise? I realize that my helping ability will be kind of limited, of course.

Addison sighed. She wanted to help; she didn't like knowing someone was suffering. This really, really sucked. She got up and started to pace the room again. Another circle, another reply. She was surprised she wasn't dizzy yet.