chapter three

'My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what other people do not know.' ~ The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle

It wasn't until Odile got up did she notice what a mess she looked.

There was a tall, floor-length mirror hanging on her wall. Despite the paint peeling off the wooden frame, the mirror had been recently cleaned, and she was able to see herself in all of her emaciated glory.

She looked even thinner than usual, her elbows protruding horribly and and knees looking knobby. Her skin was dirty and dry, her hair came out in clumps when she ran a hand through it, and she was shaking uncontrollably, despite the room being quite warm. The shaking wasn't new; she always shook, for no apparently reason. But she was especially cold right now. She frowned, shaking her head. No wonder everyone looked at me as if they wanted to toss me a twenty or something.

She glanced behind her quickly, and then brushed her hair away from her neck to observe the scars. They were pink and strange-looking, zig-zagging across her throat like a cruel choker. She gulped; they didn't look like they'd be leaving anytime soon. Did wounds that deep ever heal? She was condemned to a life of scarves. She ran a hand over the skin, and wasn't surprised to find it tender and slightly raised. Still. Fast healing. It could have been worse.

And that brought to her mind the reminder of why she was up here in the first place: the puzzle.

Odile pushed away all thoughts of her sickly appearance and began looking through the drawers. She was pleased to find a few towels, some general storybooks, and paper. She found a pen next to the lamp. It was all she needed at the moment. She flopped onto the bed and began to scribble what she knew:

-new area – presumably far away from home due to location and lack of knowledge about hometown amongst residents

-been gone approximately two or three months, which means this must be January, 2013, at the moment

-japanese currency of 'yen' is used

-yet town speaks perfect, unaccented english

-also no one appears to be of japanese – or even asian – decent

-town = ruled by tyrant

-people = generally nice

-wait why am i wondering about these people?

-this is about me

-okay right

-what else

-um...

-fuck

Damnit. Odile gripped the pen tightly, gritting her teeth. I can't make bricks without clay! She needed more information. Her phone wasn't working, but ... maybe if someone here had a computer she could use...

Aha! She snapped up from her seat on the bed and raced to the door. She whipped it open and was surprised to find Donna, who was so startled she nearly dropped the tray in her hand.

"Oh! Odile!" she said, trying to regain her balance.

Odile took a step back. "Sorry."

"No, no, I'm too clumsy!" she laughed, holding the tray out. When Odile stared at it confusedly, she smiled. "Your lamb and potatoes."

Right. "Oh, thanks." She took it and set it on the dresser half-heartedly. "Smells great. Ah, I was wondering, do you have wi-fi?"

"Wi-fi?" She looked confused. "What do you—oh! Oh, yes, I do believe we do!"

Her heart immediately lifted. "Really? Because I can't find it here..."

"Oh, just follow me!" She gestured to a door across the hall. "We have lots of wi-fi right in there. Feel free to stay as long as you need."

Odile could barely contain her excitement as she followed Donna. Finally! She'd be able to do a quick Google search and find her current location. And then it was simply a matter of finding a bus route, maybe using Google maps, and accounting for how to make up for her missed school.

Donna opened the door and hustled in, and Odile looked around eagerly. It was a small room, with shelves upon shelves of dusty novels and books. It made sense, of course. Wi-fi was often found in libraries, although this one looked incredibly shabby. Not that she was going to complain.

She dug through her pocket for her phone as Donna looked through one of the shelves. "We're not supposed to have too many books here," she said over her shoulder. "Melville considers them a waste of space and money. But, oh, I couldn't help but save some! As long as you don't snitch."

"My lips are sealed," Odile assured offhandedly, eyebrows furrowing when she still couldn't find an open network.

"Ah, I'm glad to hear that! Now, I know it's here, somewhere ... aha! Wi-fi!"

Odile looked up eagerly, wondering if there was some kind of binary coding involved in unlocking the system. She was surprised to find Donna shove a book in her hands. It was a thick novel, with a very cheesy picture of a man and a woman embracing each other on the cover. She looked up confused. "Um...?"

"I don't have all of his works, but I do have his most popular! Love In The Most Unexpected of Places. Oh, Oliver Wyfuy is such an incredible author!"

...Is this some kind of sick joke? She flipped through the book a few times, eyes scanning its contents for anything of remote importance. Nothing. Nothing but 359 pages of boring romance.

"I think you misunderstood me," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"Um. I didn't want a book, exactly. I wanted, like, wi-fi. W-I-dash-F-I. Internet connection."

"Inter ... net?"

"Yes, Internet! You know? The world wide web? Google? Facebook? Tumblr? Don't tell me you've never heard of them...!"

"...I ... I can't say it rings a bell, dear..."

Odile grit her teeth, biting back a long string of curses. She stuck an arm out to steady herself against a wall as a new wave of dizziness hit her, blinking back the vertigo. Fuck. Fuck.

"Are you alright, sweetie? Oh, you look even paler than before! Here, let me help." Odile didn't have the strength to argue as Donna wrapped an arm around her and helped her back to her room. She even tucked her into bed, setting the tray in her lap and getting her an extra blanket.

"This is the least I can do for now," she said nervously. "If you need anything at all, don't be afraid to call!"

Odile just nodded mutely, her stomach stirring with uneasiness and nerves.

The door closed behind her and she began to eat.

After she had calmed the roaring in her stomach and retrieved directions from Donna, Odile was on her way to the local library. She was eager to escape the old time-y vibes that the inn bragged, which even included what appeared to be an ancient telephone. It didn't have buttons; just that odd spinning technique she had only ever seen on TV.

Outside, however, she was able to observe more easily. Though the skies were still gray, with a light drizzle, she was surprised to find that no one was talking on their cell phones, and that the few cars that were around were extremely old-looking. Hell, she didn't even recognize any modern brands, like Toyota, Hyundai, or Dodge. Just old, plain, black models, that reminded her of her old history textbook.

She scrawled these facts down in her book, furrowing her eyebrows in thought. On a separate page, she wrote possible explanations: far-away cosplay town (although this seems unlikely, given Melville's presence, and the lack of motive)? Away from the city and technologically backwards? Time travel?

Psht. Yeah, right. Don't let yourself lose your brain in this situation, Odile.

She ducked out of the rain and into the library, a small but comforting place. It smelled of paper, but not coffee, and there was no one there except for one lone librarian, who was putting books away. The librarian didn't even notice Odile's presence until she cleared her throat, rubbing a hand on the back of her neck nervously. She looked up, surprised. Her shock then settled into what appeared to be a happy look.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah. I was wondering if you had a map?" Odile asked.

"A map? Are you a traveler?"

"...Yup. Just of the surrounding cities. Nothing major."

She was quiet for a bit, looking to be in thought. "I believe I have one with some train routes. Will that be okay?"

"Yes!" Odile blurted excitedly. "That sounds perfect. Um. Thank you."

The woman nodded. "Wait here. I'll get it for you."

Odile nodded, and waited until the woman disappeared into the back room before turning her attention to the bookshelves. Despite there not being a single soul in the library, the books were all dusted and looked well-maintained, probably by the librarian herself. She glanced at the different titles on the spines, finding everything from Essential Alchemical Equations to The History of Amestris. She wasn't sure where Amestris was, or why alchemical equations were a thing that mattered in this day and age. A voice in the back of her pointed out that she wasn't quite sure what day or age she was currently in.

She told it to shut up.

She gingerly plucked Essential Alchemical Equations from the shelf, opening it up to reveal its contents. The table of contents even had a special chapter dedicated to the Philosopher's Stone! Odile's lips twisted up in a little smirk. Like Harry Potter? God, what kind of freaky town is this? She flipped to page 324, reading the first passage, not quite sure what to expect.

The Philosopher's Stone, also labeled the Grand Elixir by some, is one of the world's most fascinating and enigmatic objects. Despite alchemists' centuries of research trying to understand this mysterious stone, information about its ingredients and origins still remain vastly unknown. However, there claims to be no end to its capabilities. It is said to be able to do everything: destroying worlds, bringing the dead back to life, and providing an end to almost any problem mankind may face, be it medical, financial, emotional, or physical. This has made it sought after by men and women, alike, throughout the years—

"Is this what you're looking for?"

Odile snapped the book shut, hands shaking. She felt like she had glanced into something forbidden, even though she was sure the book was nothing but a parody. Grand Elixir? Able to grant any wish or fix any problem? How pathetic. It was obviously just an illusion to provide comfort and a distraction to those suffering from horrible problems. Like God. Or pop tarts.

She nodded. "Yeah, this will do. Thank you."

"Are you an alchemist?"

Odile froze, looking at the woman questionably. "What?"

"An alchemist. You're in the alchemy section. We don't boast a lot of material, but we do have a few rare finds, if you're interes—"

Odile leaned forward, dropping her voice down to a whisper. "Alright, I'm asking this because I am legitimately sick of this stupid make-believe thing, but why are you guys doing this?"

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I don't know what you—"

"Look, I know you're just making all of this up! The ancient alchemy crap, all the fake towns, the old technology, if you can even call it technology—" She broke off, letting out something near to a hysteric giggle. All of the pieces were misshapen, and God, it was driving her absolutely mad.

The woman backed away, as if Odile had some kind of contagious disease. "I-I really don't know ... please, ma'am, try to calm down..."

"It's 2012!" Odile almost shrieked. "Where are all of the Toyotas?!" A stupid thing to say. But Odile, finally, had begun to panic. Panic was a human emotion, and it was the exact opposite of logical, precise problem-solving. Thus, her brain was not speaking at the moment. At least, it wasn't saying what she wanted it to say. Where are all of the Toyotas translated to Why the hell does nothing make sense?! What's happening to me?!

"Ma'am," the woman said carefully, her words holding a sort of subtle calming factor. "Ma'am, the year is 1914."

Odile froze.

All of her anger and confusion swept down the drain, leaving her completely numb for a few seconds. She ran over the words, observed them, took notes, put them in her mouth and spit them back out when they tasted too sour for her taste. The numbness was replaced with the uncontrollable urge to laugh. Laugh. Laugh, laugh, laugh.

The cars were old, the people looked like they had come out of history textbooks—

No.

No one knew what wi-fi was, they treated ancient practices like alchemy as if they were common, modern-day sciences—

It can't be.

But that was impossible because time travel wasn't a theory that could possibly exist could it and besides she was dead so shouldn't she be in heaven or hell man all the books in the world couldn't prepare her for this and this was all too crazy to be a lie she wasn't getting anywhere with that plan but but but maybe this was some weird spiritual journey that God had sent her on to repent for her sins or whatever but God wasn't real either so that begs the question—

Am I even real?

"Ma'am? Are you alright?"

Odile snapped alert, lips spreading into a too-bright grin. "Perfectthankyou—!"

And she left the library, ran over to the nearest garbage can, and threw up.

The lamb and potatoes were considerably less delightful coming back up her throat than they had been going down. Odd. She hadn't thrown up since she was seven, and a bad plate of sushi had given her food poisoning. Perhaps it had occurred to amplify just how dire the current situation was.

Thanks, Stomach. You let me down, too.

Okay. Okay. Her brain was freaking out. Her usually calm and composed mind was now scrambling, searching through the scattering of information that had just laid itself out, utterly unorganized and illogical. She had to think this through. Tackle the problem in tinier pieces, one at a time, and then put them together in the end.

She held a hand out, clutching the wall to support herself. She was mildly concerned about whether or not the librarian would call the police and have her whisked away to a mental institution, but she soon realized that Melville needed her around, and would not allow it in the near future. So she smoothed her hair down, took a deep breath, and walked back in.

The woman was staring, her eyes wide, not having moved from her previous position. She looked extremely wary of Odile. "May I help you?"

"Yeah, sorry," she muttered. "Um. I'll just be ... doing some research." She gestured to one of the empty tables.

The librarian nodded, glancing at the telephone on her desk before saying, "Let me know if you need anything."

"Sure."

And that was that.

Odile opened her notebook, pulled out a pen, and began to write:

things i know:

-i do not have any certain theories for what has occurred to me

-however, i am aware that my throat was slit

-the wound has mostly healed, and has left scarring

-the year is 1914, and not 2012

-so i've essentially ... time traveled

-which is a ridiculous theory

-but i suppose

-it's still plausible

-it's not 100% impossible and, given the current evidence, must be the truth

-the truth can be mad

-so

-time traveling

things i need to find out:

-how this happened

-who did this to me

-what happened to Mr. Carlyle

-why did this happen

-how do i get back

ways to go about finding this:

-...

Odile folded her hands under her chin, thinking hard. Something just felt off. Usually, when she reached a hypothesis or had a theory, it felt like something had clicked inside of her. Now? She just felt confused. Like something was missing. Time travel ... if supernatural elements such as alchemy can exist in this time, somehow, then perhaps they could be responsible? But I came from 2012 to here. Which means ... someone must have perfected the theory in my modern time. However, why would they get me to come here? Wait. No. No, I shouldn't think about the past. Focus on the future. How do I get back?

She pulled a few books from the alchemy section, pouring over their contents. She was surprised to find that alchemy was so common and scientific, but also so logical. It wasn't about fools trying to make gold from lead. It was about change. Like chemistry, which was one of her favorite subjects. Using materials and transforming them into something else of equal value. It also involved strange arrays and designs that looked pretty and complicated, though she wasn't sure what kind of purpose, exactly, they served in the process.

According to the alchemic laws, changes occurred through a process called transmutation. Which meant that something had to have been given up. Transmutation was impossible to perform on humans, however, and so she wasn't sure how she had been transmuted into a different time. Perhaps her theory wasn't credible, after all.

Wait a second.

Odile turned back to the first book she had gotten, and flipped to the page on the Philosopher's Stone. It could twist the alchemical laws! And the book explicitly stated that it could allow alchemists to perform transmutations on human beings.

...So there was a Philosopher's Stone hidden away somewhere in Gellbea? Or ... eh, it doesn't matter. I have to get my hands on one of those stones!

A voice in her head piped up, Woah, woah, aren't you getting out of hand?

What do you mean?

Time travel? Alchemy? Harry Potter references? Do you have any idea how crazy you sound?

Hey, time travel is a legitimate theory, even with modern science.

Yes, but let's be honest. It's near impossible.

Do you know what else is near impossible? Waking up in a place I've never heard of, after having my throat slit, being completely alone, having no memory of the past few months, in 1914.

...

Besides, I don't have any other theories. This is my first lead. And I have to see where it goes.

And if it ends up being a dead end?

Boo hoo. I move on. Besides ... it's kind of exciting, isn't it?

...You're hopeless. Your weird need for 'fun' will kill you one day. Oh, wait—

Shut up.

And so Odile reached an odd sort of 'conclusion' with the puzzle in her head. Well, perhaps 'conclusion' wasn't the right word. After all, a puzzle was only concluded once it was finished. No, it was more of a temporary truce. Because no matter how her logic was screaming at her – telling her she was a fool and a moron and, really, this was all one big understanding – she knew she had to go with something. Denying herself the proof had simply lead to, well, more proof being shoved into her face. No. She had to take a chance.

I'll play your game.

I'll deal my cards.

And I guess we'll see who wins.

"Um, excuse me, ma'am?"

Odile glanced up into the glowing red eyes of a metal man.

No.

A robot.

...

Perhaps this was all the proof she needed that there was a higher power somewhere in the universe, looking down on everything that was occurring, like a chessmaster toying with his pieces. And this was definitely all the proof she needed that she was his personal punching bag. She couldn't think of any other excuse that could explain why she had been murdered, woken up in 1914, tossed into an entirely crazy situation, finally felt like she was heading somewhere, and then handed a completely futuristic creature to top it all off: the cherry on her sundae of failure.

Yeah.

She was in trouble.

woaah, okay, this is super late! but i hope it's a decent length, and that you guys like it.

stfu odile there is a 'robot' right in front of yo t.

enjoy!