Harold Finch (
abirdbyanyothername) wrote in
genessia2017-06-22 12:01 pm
Entry tags:
[text]
[Kidnapped. That wasn't a totally unfamiliar experience for Harold, but the method and means could not have been more different. That didn't save him from a momentary panic, when he woke somewhere other and had to struggle out of the strange, egg-like coffin he'd woken up in. It took effort, and the unexpected damp on the ends of his pantlegs when he finally freed himself, painfully, was adding insult to injury as he forced himself to calm down and take stock of his immediate situation and belongings. A pendant. A smartphone. A damp cave. His spine on fire.
[He pocketed the pendant, the smartphone, the key, the money in crisp red unfamiliar bills. The pamphlet he read over as carefully as he, after, listened to the hologram, once he found his way towards the exit. One of the numerous maps nearby also went into a pocket, folded neatly in the center, after a cursory glance. Step two was research, most of which he was able to accomplish on his cellphone, browsing through the information provided on the network. While he was there, he changed his display name to a typical alias, "Harold Wren" - he had reason to suspect no one here would have known the alias back home, so reusing it didn't bother him, and it was certainly a step up from using his real name.
[The more he read, the more clear it became that, at least for the moment, he was going to be trapped here, among strangers and apart from his work. That was.. concerning. While he understood, from his research, that time would not pass "home" while he was here, it was still an uncomfortable thought, to be stuck in this separate world that had never known the Machine, to be void of purpose for the first time in a long while. And void of friends.
[It is with these thoughts weighing heavily on his mind that he finally keys in the text feature of his new smartphone, making a short post to the network. Banking on the hope that he might be able to gain information, perhaps.]
Hello. I was wondering if someone might not be able to provide me with some information on this place, as I just arrived.
[He pocketed the pendant, the smartphone, the key, the money in crisp red unfamiliar bills. The pamphlet he read over as carefully as he, after, listened to the hologram, once he found his way towards the exit. One of the numerous maps nearby also went into a pocket, folded neatly in the center, after a cursory glance. Step two was research, most of which he was able to accomplish on his cellphone, browsing through the information provided on the network. While he was there, he changed his display name to a typical alias, "Harold Wren" - he had reason to suspect no one here would have known the alias back home, so reusing it didn't bother him, and it was certainly a step up from using his real name.
[The more he read, the more clear it became that, at least for the moment, he was going to be trapped here, among strangers and apart from his work. That was.. concerning. While he understood, from his research, that time would not pass "home" while he was here, it was still an uncomfortable thought, to be stuck in this separate world that had never known the Machine, to be void of purpose for the first time in a long while. And void of friends.
[It is with these thoughts weighing heavily on his mind that he finally keys in the text feature of his new smartphone, making a short post to the network. Banking on the hope that he might be able to gain information, perhaps.]
Hello. I was wondering if someone might not be able to provide me with some information on this place, as I just arrived.

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[Or at least, he hoped so. The comment after alarmed him somewhat, as he hadn't realized he was speaking to a medical professional - he would have to be more vigilant in future.]
I can assure you that I am not injured. Just a bit sore. You certainly don't have to send anyone for me.
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Well, if you're just looking for something over the counter there's a grocery at 12th and Thistle. They should have something over the counter for you, if you're sure you're alright.
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[Of course, he'd taken the time between responses to look up just who he was talking to. The network helpfully provided names, which made it considerably easier than he was used to - something that he was fine with when it came to other people, but it concerned him that he could be, theoretically, just as easy to look up.]
I appreciate your concern, but I'm certain I'll be alright. Over the counter remedies will be just fine.
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Well in that case, is there anything else you wanted to know?
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I don't know how scientifically minded you are about the whole thing, but believe me when I say you're not the only one out there looking for answers.
Take it easy - and if whatever's bothering you keeps bothering you for more than a day or two, get it looked at instead of relying on that stuff and taking it out on your insides.
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Of course, Doctor, thank you.
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You can thank me by not doing anything stupid and landing yourself in here. And if you do - the name's McCoy.
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I'll keep that in mind. It's nice to meet you, Dr. McCoy. My name is Harold.
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Same to you then, Harold. I'll let you get on with it.
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