[Several scientists, most of them recognizable, along with Bao, are seated around a table in what appears to be a conference room. Files rest in front of each scientist, most closed.]

[Anderson Miles closes his own and nods to Bao.] And now, if you can fill us in on the situation that's developing?

[She nods, getting to her feet.] On the surface--

[The door opens, cutting her off. Everyone looks at the new arrival, Dr. Regina Lyle.] I'm sorry to interrupt, but--

[The Chairman stands, looking more than just a little annoyed.] We're in our meeting. It can wait.

[Regina glances around, frowning, hesitating. Johnson finally speaks up, maybe taking pity on her, maybe trying to keep things moving.] I'm sure you have a reason for this. You've never interrupted before. [He accompanies that comment with a mild glance at the Chairman. Donna sits off to the side, smirking.]

[Regina nods.] It's the variance. It's back. And this time it's up to .07%, much stronger than last time.

[There are no more looks of superiority. Every scientist is thinking, and thinking as fast as they can. Bao stands in silence for a moment before giving a quick bow.] I think I am safe in saying that you would prefer me to return to my men? We can keep an eye on the possibility of war outside.

[The Chairman waves a hand dismissively. He looks distracted and stressed, more than usual.] Yes. Yes, go. Lyle, I need what you have. Meeting adjourned, turn off the recorder.

[Andrew Johnson reaches over and shuts off his PCD.]

[The PCD comes on, focused on a rather orderly desk. The 'inbox' on the desk is full and Donna is standing next to it. Chairman Springsteen leans into the shot, reaching to grab and open one of the files.]

No, they all say the same thing. Reasonless panic. [He shrugs and moves it to the 'outbox.']

It's not their fault that you have them looking for anything that changes. Or that they're stupid mice, the most of them. How big is the change? [Donna's smirking and leaning over the desk, toward him. It can be noted that her blouse is low-cut, and her heels are perhaps a bit higher than are professional.]

Less than .002%. Nothing to panic over. Though the chemists are bothered. Some substance they were messing with turned into cola. [Springsteen is smirking as he rests his elbows on the desk.]

Well. This world is... [Donna shrugs.] ...predictable in its unpredictability. If they're so bothered, send some of them out. Bao wants out of her cage.

[The Chairman shakes his head.] No. I have her busy with other things.

[Donna straightens, clearly pissed off. Her lips tighten.] Another side project that you didn't tell me about?

[He snorts.] Hardly. It got approved by all of us months ago. It's just taken time to get her to head down that road. She's hardly as biddable as Morimoto was. He was useful, you know.

To a point. [She no longer looks quite as angry.] Send some of the mice out to look around, then. Ones that the snakes won't bite.

Snakes don't bite mice. They swallow them whole. [Another file gets opened; he's not paying so much attention to Donna anymore.] But some of ours should be safe. Send Andrew in on your way out. We'll pick a few.

[Slowly, very slowly, Donna adjusts her blouse. Her voice is frosty.] On my way out. There were several other things on the agenda, as you--

[The PCD times out.]

Memo
To: Greg Wright
From: Desk of the Chairman
At: February 4th, 4:49 PM
Re: Previous instructions

Mr. Wright

The alterations to the network aren’t done yet. I want them finished and uploaded by midnight tonight.



Memo
To: Chairman Springsteen
From: Greg Wright
At: February 4th, 5:01 PM
Re: Previous instructions

Sir,

I have most of them ready to go. There’s one that I can’t get right, though, and I’m not sure that it will make the network more secure. Can we wait on the third alteration? I really don’t want to break the PCDs.

Respectfully,
Greg Wright


Memo
To: Greg Wright
From: Desk of the Chairman
At: February 4th, 5:03 PM
Re: Previous instructions

There’s no respect in refusing to follow directions. Midnight. Get it working.



Memo
To: Chairman Springsteen
From: Greg Wright
At: February 4th, 5:21 PM
Re: Previous instructions

Sir.

Yes sir.

[The PCD comes on, tilted at an odd angle. It shows several in a big office: Andrew Johnson, Donna Malkovich, Bao Ying, and Chairman Springsteen. There are others hanging around, but those are the four in the forefront.]

Andrew thumps his fist on the desk. “I will not go back! There’s too much to lose! Let them go back as they will, but—“

“Like we have any control over the Animus.” Donna’s voice is just as angry.

Bao shakes her head. “Can you not shield over the inner city? We can also invite in those who wish to stay, for a short time. I know you have been working on—“

“No.” The Chairman gets up from his chair and paces. “We’ve been trying to find a way, yes. But it hasn’t worked yet. We’re affected by the damned creatures the same as the Outsiders.”

“We will lose everything.” Andrew is seething. “And we still haven’t found—“

“No, we haven’t.” Donna cuts him off again. “But does it matter? If we can’t change something… Though now might be as good a time as any to see if we can hurt the Animus.”

Bao’s eyes go wide. “It will backfire. And again, me and mine will pay the price. Do not do this.”

The Chairman snorts. “That’s what you and yours are here for. If your predecessor hadn’t—“

“Do not even mention him.” Bao’s hand rests on her gun. “I know you’ve lied about him. They found his journal. It’s in the Outer City, not in the Waste. What else did you lie about, Springsteen? While you and your wife hide cozy in your house, drinking and isolated, safe from the damage you cause…”

Andrew has visibly calmed, and he places a hand on Bao’s shoulder. She glares at him but doesn’t shrug it off. “We’re not going to let him toss you to the Samaren Outsider. And now you don’t have to worry about him if we go back. One way or another, you’re safe.”

Bao looks away and doesn’t comment.

“Well. Now that that little temper tantrum is over.” Donna gives Bao a very wintery smile. “I would rather hurt and have repercussions than be sent home. I vote we use it.”

“Seconded.” The Chairman sits back down and looks over at Johnson.

“Against.” Andrew folds his arms.

“Against.” Bao’s hand hasn’t left her gun.

The Chairman glances off to the side, at Anderson Miles. “The deciding vote is yours.”

Miles frowns and swallows. “Against. We don’t know how much it will backfire, and it could hurt us more. If we go home, we can always fix our errors.”

“Cowards.” Springsteen glares at all except Donna. “Dismissed, then. We sit and wait, like the Outsiders have to, even when we have tools at our disposal. Enjoy—“

[The PCD times out.]



[[ooc: Mod decision - Upon use of the device, the five that volunteer get an impression of being swooped away and awareness of the Animus. The Animus cannot be seen, but there's a presence. And it is Not Amused, though it's a little surprised. Then there's a rush, and all five come back to themselves with MASSIVE headaches, horrible nausea, and dizziness. These five consist of: Squall/Leon, Nel Tu, Akito/Agito, Alucard, and Ulquiorra. Observers can join the log seperately: http://community.livejournal.com/adstrngndumlog/408051.html ]]

[An older man is sitting by a fireplace, dressed in a very warm robe and holding a mug of something. He's smiling in a way that's probably supposed to look friendly but is still very shark-like.]

Merry Christmas. But you probably don't understand why, and many of you don't even know what Christmas is. To condense hundreds of man-hours into a few moments, I'll say that you are now better defended and better sheltered. Or you can be better sheltered. If you try.

An explanation for those of you that like to demand them.

[The smile fades, he looks annoyed before his expression and voice go to 'patronizing lecture.']

There was an inorganic buildup, blocking some transferances from taking place. We could remove the buildup a few ways, to try to continue establishing a way home. After analyzing what it was, we realized that our options of destroying or repelling it weren't as useful as bringing it through would be for all of you.

[The shark-smile is back, and it doesn't reach his eyes at all.]

So Merry Christmas again. I hope this is the start of us working together more instead of causing trouble. After all, this is the season for harmony. You're welcome.

[He reaches over and shuts the PCD off.]


[[ooc: Post occurs at 2:06 am, just after the buildings show up at 2:05.]]

MEMORANDUM

To: All departments, Guards
From: The Chairman
Re: Safety

Greetings.

Cease and desist all video posting this instant. No more mentions of full names will be given. Refer to yourself by rank at all times in case of equipment malfunctions.

Any idiot that forgets this deserves what they’ll get. And if they don’t get it, I’ll give it to them myself.

[A voice is heard, one that's been heard before.]

I need numbers, dammit! How many did we lose to the Outsiders?

[Professor Anderson speaks.] Numbers don't matter here, sir. What matters is finding a way to prevent this from happening a--

Do I look like I want your opinion? I want numbers, now. And I want the stupid botanist punished. I want everyone who might have talked punished! And let me know when our people start coming back to life.

Two already have. One of them can't stop shaking, though. He got attacked by our own ro--

I. Don't. Care. Get out of my sight. And send me Greg and Matthew. I want to know how this started.

Sir.

[There's the sound of footsteps, and after a few moments the connection clicks off.]

[The PCD comes on to the sound of several things clattering and shattering on the ground]

Damn it, Hawkings, you're lucky that wasn't something important. You're not supposed to be moving around while you're blind anyway.

S-sorry, Sir! It won't happen again, I promise!

Hm. Here, sit down... what was it that you wanted?

I'm supposed to give you a report of the latest numbers.

More bad news, I suppose.

Three blinded, two are deaf, four are mute, two are illiterate, and Anderson is complaining about headaches.

...I've already told Anderson he shouldn't be studying the spore mushrooms. But eleven. Less than I thought, but those damn voices. Was there anything else?

Another wave of people, Sir.

Damnit...this shouldn't be...

Sir?

No, nothing. Come, I'll walk you back to your room. Get some rest and when this is over, I want you back at your station crunching numbers, understood?

Yes, sir!

[The sound of footsteps crunching over glass and walking away can be heard as well as a door opening and closing before the feed times out.]