Summary: The Doctor discovers a few disturbing details as his plan begins to move along.
Notes: This is where the action starts to begin, where it starts to get serious. Hope no one minds...
The receptionist thing caught me off guard. Partly it's character development out of necessity, but I was still surprised I hadn't expected it...
"Cold Reading" is the term for what fraudulent psychics/mediums/et cetera do with their clients. Have you ever seen, say, John Edwards? "I'm getting the letter M... Is there a Mary in your family? A mother? An aunt?" "My grandmother was named Mary!" "Right, I'm just getting this feeling of an older female presence..." And so forth. In short, it's throwing out vague facts, drawing on the subject for confirmation, then quickly confirming that what they just told you is what you knew all along. A reading is said to get "warm" or more usually "hot" when the fradulent psychic has some information on the subject beforehand-- say, by rooting through their trash, or sending an agent to speak to them, or by having talked to them before themselves.
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Chapter Six: Warm Reading
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The detention facility was very clean.
Lyssa was reassured by this. The Doctor was afraid.
The thing was, the place was too clean, scrupulously scrubbed like a hospital or a laboratory.
And there was only one thing that could happen to prisoners who were taken to a laboratory.
Well, technically there were a lot of things that could happen to a prisoner who was taken to a laboratory, but they were all bad. He really would've preferred signs of crude brutality... That, at least, would be easier to deal with.
But this meant trouble.
"Hullo," he said, dragging Andy to the front desk. "Got a prisoner here. Andy Sojor."
"Right," said the man behind the desk. "Let me check the files..." He tapped on a keyboard. "Right. 6854 jir. You'll get a voucher after he's processed. Your name?"
"Houdini," said the Doctor, leaning across the counter in an obvious attempt to read the man's screen.
The man glared at him and shifted his chair slightly. "Serial number?"
"76954," the doctor recited.
"Right. Well, Mr. Houdini, if you surrender your prisoner to the guard over there, your voucher should be ready for you by the time you've finished your paperwork."
"More paperwork. Lovely." The Doctor took the proferred paperwork, with no outward sign that he was faced with a choice.
If he gave Andy to the guards, he would be in danger. And it was more than possible that he wouldn't be able to rescue him before they'd... done whatever it was they did to their prisoners to him.
But there might not be any other way to find out where they took the prisoners.
The trouble with that was it meant he would have to leave Andy to the guards for the time it took them to get him situated. And there was no way to tell how long that would be.
Or what might happen to him in the meantime.
Andy, weighed against Rose and Loren and however many others were trapped in this prison.
There was only one choice, but that didn't make it easy.
He escorted Andy to the guard like he hadn't been in doubt for a second.
Andy nodded at him as he left, a steely look in his eyes. As if he thought he understood.
Maybe he did.
He went to the other side of the lobby to fill out the paperwork.
"How do we know where he is?" Lyssa whispered, sitting next to him, sounding young and scared and hollow.
"I can track 'im, don't worry," the Doctor answered, eyes fixed on the paperwork. "We'll have to give 'em time to process him-- settle him in with the other prisoners."
"And then what?" Lyssa whispered.
"Then we infiltrate the facility. There may be explosions at some point. Depends on circumstances and security."
"I think there should be explosions. I think that's good."
"Harder to cover up. Though you have to be careful not to destroy the evidence. But this isn't the best place to be talking about that."
"Right." Lyssa looked away.
The Doctor finished the paperwork and headed to the desk again, for another delicate balancing act.
"Your voucher," said the man, handing him a slip of paper. "You can redeem it at the treasury office, 9-7 Thursdays."
"Right." The Doctor pocketed it and weighed his next words. Don't press, don't seem guilty, don't seem like you really care. "What do they do with those prisoners, anyway?"
"What do you care?"
"Who said I did? Just a simple question, that's all. You can understand why I might be curious."
The man behind the desk sighed. "Look, I don't really know. They keep this kind of stuff secret, you know?"
"Yeah, but you must've heard something." The Doctor smiled winningly. "Whether there's trucks or not, guard rotations..."
"Yes, but I don't talk to magicians. It's a rule."
"Makes sense. Magicians are dangerous."
"Tell me about it." The man rolled his eyes. "They can drive you crazy, most of 'em. Bunch of self-righteous, arrogant charlatans."
"Ever met one that might be real?"
The man considered his answer, which was a good sign. "Most of these people that come in here, they aren't really magicians. They're, I dunno, illusionists. Tricksters. All sleight-of-hand and mirrors. Secret compartments in the boxes. In it for the money and the glory. Not like people who work with magic. I don't think there is anybody who works with real magic. At least, not anymore."
"You think there were once?"
The man sighed. "You'll think I'm crazy, but I... saw someone disappear once. Disappear for real."
"Really?"
He sighed again. "I was really young. I might've been dreaming. But I was outside playing by myself-- I had this toy train, I don't know why I remember that-- and there was this guy who walked by. Strange-looking guy, too. I don't know why I'm telling you this."
"Because you can tell I'll believe you?" the Doctor suggested softly.
"I'm being an idiot." The man shook his head. "But he was strange. Everything about him was... alien. Magical. Like he didn't follow all those silly normal laws like jaywalking and gravity. And it would've been terrifying if he wasn't so nice. But he was. He gave me money to spend at the festival and a piece of candy. I wasn't sure about the candy; you're not supposed to take candy from strangers. But I could tell the coins were real, and I was going to take it and run. But... He was just drifting along in his own invisible current-- gods I'm talking like an idiot. And I couldn't help wanting to see what he was doing, where he was going. So I followed him. And he... this is so stupid."
"No," said the Doctor. "It isn't stupid. Tell me."
"He met with someone, and he went into this-- this blue box, I swear, ridculously ornate, and blue-- and it started making the strangest noises, and it-- it disappeared."
He shook his violently. "I never told anyone that. Because it's stupid! That sort of thing doesn't happen! The world doesn't work that way-- I know damn well the world doesn't work that way--"
The Doctor rummaged around in the pockets of his coat and found a slightly dusty and rather hard jelly baby. He held it out to the man, silently.
"W--what--" The man stared at the sweet in his hand.
"He had curly hair," the Doctor said quietly. "And a ridiculous scarf?"
The man stared at him in disbelief.
"Yeah. I used to be him, once. It was a very long time ago."
The man looked away, staring at his computer screen.
"Some of them are criminals," the Doctor said. "Most of them aren't. Most of them are people with opinions. What are they doing to them in there? I've only been in here for five minutes, and I can tell it isn't good. You work here. What do you think about it?"
The man stared at his computer screen in despair. "So you're asking me to make a choice."
"Yeah. Someone always is. It's just mine tend to always be the hard ones."
"Yeah." He stared at the computer screen. "I should've known I couldn't escape it forever."
The Doctor waited. Who it's easier to be, or who you want to be? I really am sorry--
"Yeah. Today is obviously a stupid-day for me." He sighed. "This is the main facility. Third floor up. Second is processing. I don't know what they do to them. I know it's bad. I know some of them don't survive. I know most of the others wish they hadn't. I know the turnover rate of guards is exceptionally high here. I know someone should do something about it. I know I can't. I know I'm too afraid to try."
"But you just did," the Doctor said softly, with a smile.
The man smiled back at him faintly. "I know I have access to a lot of paperwork. And I know magicians are good at sleight-of-hand. Oh, look. There is something strange directly behind me." He swivelled around in his chair to look.
The Doctor grinned and quickly shuffled through the paperwork. Prisoner roster for the last week-- excellent. Leave the last page for him; didn't want to make it obvious.
"Of course, all the papers you'll really want to see are on the fourth floor, Laboratory Admin," the man noted casually.
"I figured. Shift change?"
"Standard three-shift. Done?"
"Yep."
The man turned back around. "So. I wish you luck. 'Cause if you do screw this up, I'm gonna see the innards of this place firsthand. And I'd really rather avoid that."
The Doctor smiled. "I'll do my best." He held out the jelly baby again. "Thank you."
The man smiled and took it. "Bit dusty, isn't it?"
"Like I said. It's been a long time."
"Are you ever gonna explain it to me or anything?"
"I don't know if I'll get the chance."
He shrugged. "That's okay. It doesn't really matter. I know what it means, anyway." He dusted off the candy and dropped it into his pocket. "Never have seen anything like these again. Where did you get them, anyway?"
"Another planet," the Doctor said apologetically.
"Damn. Ah well." He smiled grimly. "Be seeing you."
"Goodbye."
The Doctor walked out of the detention facility into the sunlight, and stopped there, staring upward, as if he was looking for something. Lyssa came up behind him. "Did you get anything?"
"Yeah."
"How?"
He shook his head. "Charm. Insane coincidence. The usual. The thing is, I have no idea."
"Ah." Lyssa shrugged. "Don't really care. What'd you get?"
"I know when the shifts change. I know where they're keeping them. This form might even tell me what cells they're in. Or at least, what cell blocks."
Lyssa smiled. "Great."
"Now all we need is a plan." He stared at the sun a minute longer. "Come on. Let's make a plan."
"Right."
"Keep in mind it'll change within five minutes of the actual attack."
"Yeah, I could guess that. Isn't there a saying, battle plans never last five minutes after meeting the enemy?"
"Pretty accurate. 'Cept sometimes it's five seconds."
"Wouldn't shock me. 'Specially hanging around with you."
"Yep." He smiled. "Let's go."
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