Journey

Tarot - The Hierophant


Responsibility


"I want to help you, and the city," he had told Schreber. Daniel, he thought with a smile, thinking of the harmony of their friendship. They started small. Repairs to roadways, bridges, unfinished items that the strangers had left undone, that seemed glaringly wrong in the light of day, were made right. It was easier than John had expected, to Tune scaffolding and Tarps up over a project, Tune the bridge or building underneath with the people around them none the wiser. Remove the scaffolding sometime later.

Then there was the Machines. Daniel had explained to him patiently how they worked, how the city ran. He knew about the primary machine, of course. The one that they had used to boost their powers, that he now used to boost his. Daniel-the-teacher had drilled it into his memory - his false memories. But with the need to educate him so quickly and completely on how to defeat the strangers, Daniel had sensibly left out many of the small, unnecessary details of how the city worked, survived.

There was food, of course. Machines that created it, the stranger's ability in its most simple form, creating from hydrocarbons the basic foodstuffs required by the city. Fresh fruit and vegetables, grains, meats. Processed food in cans and boxes. It auto-populated in large warehouses at midnight, during the time the strangers would have been completing their nightly alterations. The grocers, the warehouse managers, believed that it was brought in by train, by a night crew. But the machines were set to certain parameters, certain quantities, and required adjustments. With human appetites unpredictable, certain things were piling up while other foodstuffs had become scarce. They found one particular warehouse that unfortunately housed a large quantity of rotten eggplant, and subsequently a horrible stench that stuck to their clothes long after John had disposed of it, tuned it back into its base elements, back into what he had begin to think of as the "core" of the city, a formless mass of substances, molecules he could pull from and build from as he Tuned, like so much plasticine.

He'd tried to explain it to Daniel, once. How exactly it worked, that he was able to create objects out of seemingly thin air. Daniel had listened aptly, patient with his fumbling attempts at communication, probing with questions when he failed, but eventually they had to give up. "It just... works," he'd said lamely.

Daniel had smiled, patted his arm affectionately. "That's what matters, yes?"

But as days went by, he couldn't help but notice that Daniel seemed troubled, preoccupied. He began to stay in the office when John went out into the city, pouring over papers, and one time John came back to find him calling through the phone book, taking notes, looking troubled. The doctor had forced a smile when he entered, and hung up the phone, moving towards him with his uneven gait. He handed him a few pieces of paper, neatly folded in three. "John. I was -- hoping that you could -- do me a favour. I am in need -- of some records from -- city hall. The last census. Could you perhaps -- bring me paper copies?"

"Of course... what for?"

Daniel hesitated. "It is a -- small problem that I -- am trying to work out," he said finally. "I will try to -- explain a little better -- when I know more. Please forgive me."

John had nodded, still confused, and left to do as he asked, though the paper copies of the spooled microfilm ended up being several hundred sheets thick.

Several nights later, he'd gotten up in the middle of the night for water to find the light in the office on. Pushing open the door, he'd found Daniel asleep at his desk, slumped over one of the records he'd brought back. The census, two columns of names in small print, was covered with notes in his tidy, copperplate handwriting, some of the names with a neat black line through them. He carefully moved the half full cup of tea away from Daniel's elbow, then shook him gently. "Daniel? This isn't bed...."

The doctor woke with a start, wincing as he sat upright. "John. I am sorry, I -- was trying to finish this. I have -- had a few late nights...."

John shook his head slowly, trying to make sense of the list, of the scattered sheets of looseleaf filled with Daniel's neat writing next to the lists. "This project of yours looks a lot more intense than you keep saying," he said, drawing a fist across his eye to rid it of some sleep. "Why don't you tell me what's going on and we can tackle it together?"

Daniel sighed, straightening up a few papers. "Yes. I think that -- would be much preferred," he said, a little wearily. "But let me -- tidy this, organize it -- tomorrow. There are a few more -- things I need to check. Then we can -- attack this, yes?" A little smile.

Something about his manner betrayed nervousness, worry. And John wasn't quite convinced that he was telling the entire truth. "All right. You promise you'll tell me tomorrow?"

"I promise."

"All right." He helped the doctor to his feet, walking with him back to the apartment, making sure he went into his bedroom before going back to bed himself.

When he awoke the next morning, Daniel was back at work, a fresh pot of tea on the edge of the desk with an empty cup. "Please tell me you slept...."

Daniel looked up with a smile, but he didn't look much more refreshed than he had the night before. "John. Of course I did." He stood, taking a felt marker and moving to an easel that leaned against the wall behind the desk, a thick pad of paper hanging from it. "I have one more -- small request, if you don't mind. Will you -- fetch one more set -- of records for me?"

John nodded slowly. "Whatever you need...."

"Thank you." Daniel drew a circle on the paper, a spiral. Marking points, small labels, and slowly John began to clue in. "The city...?"

"The underneath," Daniel replied, and though his voice was calm, his eyes betrayed his unease. "Their realm. I am in need of -- the paperwork detailing their -- last set of experiments. I would go with you, however -- I believe I would only serve -- to slow you down." An apologetic smile, but John could tell that the thought terrified him. He couldn't blame him. He clarified a few items, then folded the sketched map and left.

It wasn't that he was afraid of the realm of the Strangers, he just didn't like it very much. And so he hadn't really been back, not since the day that he'd ended their perpetual night. He didn't particularly need to. He could feel the machines with his mind wherever he was in the city. And he had no interest in exploring their leftovers. Plus, it was cold, and lit with an artificial glow that made it seem colder. John much preferred the sunlight.

What Daniel was looking for did not end up being easy to find. The underneath had been badly damaged in their final battle, and it was difficult to navigate. He finally ended up resorting to using one of their lifts to move more quickly through the tunnels, stopping many times to clear them of large pieces of rubble so that he could proceed. Then, once he reached the room full of records that Daniel had marked so carefully on the map, he discovered that they were written in characters that made no sense to him at all. After a frustrating hour or more of puzzling over the shelves and shelves of files, he'd finally just piled up anything that looked like it could be important or recent onto the lift and taken it all back with him.

It was late afternoon when he returned back to the surface, Tuning a cart to carry the paperwork, pushing it out through the door he'd created in the wall, into Daniel's building, up to his office.

The teapot had moved, as well as much of the papers, but Daniel was still in the same place at his desk, reading, making notes. He stood up suddenly as John entered, eyes widening at the cart.

"What....?"

"I can't read this garbage," John answered, the words sounding more grumpy than he'd intended.

Daniel looked a little puzzled, crossing to the cart and picking up a file to flip through it. "But it's... oh. I didn't realize -- I apologize...." A little chuckle of surprise. "It seems it is their language -- after all. Please don't -- worry. I can understand this. They must have taught me -- in the same method that I taught you -- to use the machines. Just don't ask me to --" He made a couple of clicking noises with his tongue, and chuckled. "- speak it."

John ignored the joke, too irritated for humor. "Can you tell me what this all means now?"

Daniel hesitated. "Since you cannot -- help me, I'm afraid it will take me -- a little more time to finish...."

John shrugged, irritation turning toward Daniel now despite himself. "You finish, I'm going to go get dinner. Then you're going to stop this long enough to eat."

The doctor seemed a little surprised, but smiled. "Thank you, John."

He did eat when John returned, quickly, returning to the papers, hardly speaking. John watched him quietly as the sun sank lower in the sky, still feeling rather annoyed at all the fuss and secrecy, turning on the office lights as the sunlight died. Finally Daniel stood, stretching with a long sigh before picking up the thick pile of census papers that John had retrieved for him days earlier, that he'd written all over. Handing it to John. "My apologies -- John. You have been most -- patient with me. I can tell you anything -- you wish to know."

John looked down at the page on top, the notes next to the names that weren't crossed out. "Can you start by telling me what on earth this all is? Why are these people significant? I assume they are significant?"

Daniel opened his mouth, then hesitated. "It may be better -- to show you. If you don't mind, could you --" He waved a hand to the bookshelves. "Tack the census list -- to the shelves?"

It was easy to do so, papers whirling, and by the time he was done, almost every inch of the books were covered in paper, in lists of names with lines through them. "Ok, I still see lists. Who are the people you haven't crossed out?"

Daniel swallowed. "They are the people that -- exist."

For a moment, he didn't understand. "What do you mean, exist?"

"I mean," Daniel said calmly, "That these are -- all of us, all the people who were brought here -- who are still alive."

John stepped closer to the wall, scanning the list. "How many names are on this list?"

"Approximately -- one hundred fifty thousand -- "

"You went through a hundred and fifty thousand names?" He interrupted, incredulous.

"-- left," Daniel finished. "Of nearly four -- hundred thousand."

He looked over a few of the sheets, shaking his head slightly. "Why would they go through the trouble of adding all these extra people? I don't get it."

"The appearance -- of normalcy. Our city was only -- running during the night. Think about how many people -- would be sleeping. That you would never see if you -- worked at night. You would expect -- all these buildings in -- the city, to be full, yes? But even our building -- is empty, except for us."

"How have we not noticed a half empty city...?" he mused, half to himself, then turned to Daniel. "Are you sure?"

A grim smile. "I believe that I -- know my former subjects -- at least this well."

"What does this mean?"

"In some cases -- nothing," the blonde replied carefully. "But in some -- it is merely a matter of -- time, until...." he held up his hands helplessly. "Someone finds out. Everyone -- finds out. And then, at best -- anarchy."

John shook his head again. "It's been over two months since I killed Book. Things are fine."

"John, where is our -- mayor?"

"Mayor McDougal?" He thought back to newspapers he'd seen in the stores. "He's off on that state...." John's voice trailed off. "There is no mayor."

Daniel nodded slowly. "As well as many members of the -- local government, for a start. And only three -- firemen. And many other occupations that -- over time may cause a great deal of -- trouble if they are not filled."

John held out his hands helplessly. "We don't even have a bloody fire department?"

"You are able to put out fire -- with your mind," Daniel replied patiently. "However, I am not certain that you-- can be everywhere at once, like they -- could."

John found himself still shaking his head slowly, and sat down a little weakly at the small table in Daniel's office, pushing aside a pile of paper covered with the stranger's scratchings. "What the hell are we supposed to do about this?"

Daniel sat as well, watching him carefully. "It will take quite a bit -- of planning, John. Some things can be -- changed with simple recruitment, with -- high salaries. Take each role, and take someone from -- a lesser role to fill it. Condense the city -- into a smaller area, a manageable area -- by buying off unused buildings, moving the -- inhabitants. Some things will be a bit -- more difficult. The entire non-existent fire -- department, for example, would need a reason -- to be replaced. Perhaps a carefully formulated -- tragedy...."

John shook his head, finding himself balking at the sheer magnitude of what the Doctor was suggesting. "Reorganize the entire city? Something like that would take months, even years to make happen, even with my abilities. There has to be another alternative."

Daniel was silent for a long moment, watching him with some emotion that John couldn't quite place. "There... is..." he said finally, "But I would really rather -- not...."

"Tell me," John cut him off, unable to place the source of his frustration. Perhaps the situation, or the Strangers for placing them there, perhaps he was frustrated at himself for not realizing sooner that something like this was happening behind the scenes. But everything irritated him, even Daniel, patient Daniel with his eloquent speech that John found entirely too long-winded at that moment."

Daniel gave a soft sign, steepling his fingers in front of his face, quiet for long enough that John even found himself getting irritated with that. "The vaults," the doctor started, finally, before John could probe again for an answer. "Where they stored -- our memories. Or rather, the chemicals they -- used to make them. There is a very good probability that -- they did indeed survive your fight. So the second option would be -- to plan new memories, for every inhabitant, to ensure that the city's -- basic needs are met. One final identity change. If you can make the city -- sleep, like they could, then..." an extreme look of distaste crossed over the doctor's face. "I could mix them."

John stared at him, incredulous. "You're kidding me. You want to... you want me to be like Them?"

Now it was the doctor's turn to look a little irritated. "I do not want anything -- of the sort."

"Then why - "

"You asked me --" Daniel actually cut him off, "For an alternative. This, I gave you. If you are not in favor of this -- solution, or my first one, perhaps you would like -- to offer some ideas?"

He had nothing, and Daniel knew it, but he didn't feel like admitting it. "How about this? We do nothing and let everyone else fend for their own damn selves."

The doctor looked almost horrified at the suggestion. "You don't really -- mean that...."

"And why not? I didn't ask for any of this, Daniel, I didn't ask to suddenly be Master and Commander of this goddamn city."

Misery in blue eyes. "John... your powers are a gift. We would be remiss in our -- duty, if we didn't... it is our obligation -"

"Lets get one thing straight," John cut him off by setting both hands down on the table hands down, creating a louder than anticipated thump. "I already saved this damn city once. I have no obligations to save it again. I don't owe anyone anything."

Something changed in Daniel, shutters that went up over the emotion in his blue eyes, and he straightened, standing. "You're right," he replied, the tone of his voice carefully neutral, but to John it might as well be ice cold. "You don't -- owe anyone -- anything. " He crossed the room to the coat stand, shrugging into his jacket, reaching for the chocolate brown fedora.

John turned, not standing. "Where are you going?"

"Out. If you will pardon me." Words, still cold, as he put his hat on. "I wish to -- clear my head."

Then he left in silence, the office door clicking shut behind him.