Spilling Guts

Part 118 - Oh, hi there

True to his threat, Will had taken the empty cardboard tissues boxes and made them into a craft project. Anything to keep his mind off the gel at his temples and his raw nostrils. And the patents at his bedside. He couldn't focus on work especially when the inventions he had to input were things like...

An automated melon carver. Nope. That invention joined the Chicken De-boner on the list of "in the wrong hands this is a torture device".

At first he planned to make a diorama of one of his favorite scenes from Return of the Jedi; the part where Luke Skywalker throws away his lightsaber in front of Emperor Palpatine and Darth Vader and vows to never turn to the dark side. But, lacking an exacto-knife, and confidence in his ability to stay cognizant for the project, he started smaller.

Furniture.

Will had fill the notebook with scribbles, including the rough shape of a man about three inches tall. Then equations breaking down the measurements.

By the end of the first afternoon, Will had glue stuck to his fingers and cheek, cardboard shavings on the bed, and two tiny chairs that, if he calculated right, would fit Louis at his tiny height.

Not that I could give them to Louis. "Here, I made you furniture for when you're tiny, made, and in need of a seat." Right. That would go over well.

Success didn't stave off the real reason he had turned to arts and crafts. He didn't want to sleep. Especially when dreams were coming for his mind. He had suffered only two small dips into a "waking nightmare". The first felt like the room had suddenly had been full of water. The second he couldn't remember.

Sleep took him in the end, long before his normal bedtime. Suspended between nightmares and awake, he thought he heard someone talking.

Friday morning, he'd breakfasted on tiramisu while pondering a wrinkled black tie left on the foot rail of the bed.

Will should stay in bed, tended by occasional nurses checking on him, and his pile of patents to input into his tablet. Instead he shuffled down towards Main Tech in Med Tech issued slippers and head stuck in the Sleepy Beanie. A handful of tissues were stuck in the pocket of his robe.

I'm just going for a walk, reasoned Will, head fuzzy with sinus pressure. I'm returning something. A quick errand. I'm not even sleepy anymore. I slept half the day away yesterday.

He still stiffened as he saw Cetz stride down the hall on his morning check-in with all the parts of Watch Two. He didn't want get sent back to bed.

Cetz stalled in his stride as he saw Will, hand inching up to his headset.

"William!"

Balcuwitz rounded the corner, feet in plum colored socks, and followed by Louis. Silver rimmed sunglasses glinting in the underground fluorescent lighting, and clad in fitted black with a dress shirt open just past the collarbone. It wasn't fair that Louis could look so good this early in the morning while Will felt like the rear end of Jabba the Hutt.

Will didn't get much time to ponder his appearance. Casual as a pickpocket lifting an enameled pen off a desk, Balcuwitz patted Will's shoulder and nudged him across the hall. "Good timing, you can help."

"Help?" asked Will. What help could he be?

"He's coming?" asked Louis.

See, even Louis agrees.

"Yes. The more the merrier. To Rachel!" declared Balcuwitz.

"For?" Will didn't want to be part of an experiment so soon. I'm tired of wires and I'm a walking snot.

"To encourage delegation," stated Balcuwitz, and he strode away, confident in his sense of direction, for once.

Cetz had been deterred from calling Will back to Med Tech and left for his rounds. Will followed Balcuwitz, matching pace with Louis.

"Do you have any idea why we're meeting with Rachel?" Will whispered to Louis.

"Deep group thought?" said Louis, sounding just as lost as Will. "I have no idea. I need more coffee to deal with today."

"Hm." Will remembered the "errand" he'd been on. He held out a black tie. "You left this."

"Oh. How did-" Louis looked down at himself, clad head to toe in black. He groaned. "I need to change."

"That and Reese would find a wrinkled tie an affront to his image."

"The guy eats potato chips with a fork and probably irons his underwear," groused Louis, shoving the tie into his pocket. "His image could use some tweaking."

A smile pulled at Will's lips for the first time in thirty-six hours. "Thanks for the tiramisu, by the way."

"...you're welcome."

The pair followed Balcuwitz to a conference room next to Rachel's main lab. Balcuwitz knocked and opened the door to Rachel and Hayman in front of a projected whiteboard. The two doctors stood weary and worn like a pair of cheesecloth ghosts that had seen too many Halloweens. The faint glimmer of gold in Rachel's blonde hair had faded to an oatmeal-spilled-on-the-floor color, and Hayman had the air of a student who had been staring at an essay question and had gone over time without a word written.

"Reinforcements have arrived!" chimed Balcuwitz. "And I'm proud of you."

"Thank you," said Hayman, pulling his body out of his chair by sheer will. "Pardon me, I have a date with a cot. Good morning and goodnight."

Rachel saluted Hayman's retreating back.

"Here's the whiteboard." Rachel's voice dragged out the "o" and "a" vowels, a lazy but bouncy drawl. Rachel held out her tablet, the screen glowing blinding white. She pulled it away when Louis tried to take it. "Not you. Technology hates you. Will... why're ya out of bed?"

Will fidgeted, still trying to make out what was wrong with Rachel's voice. "I'm-"

"Never mind." She pulled the tablet away. "Not you. You're covered in mucus. Wash your hands and there's a cot in the closet if you need sleep. Keep the beanie on and call Cetz if you need anything. Balcuwitz, here ya go. Read what you can. Don't change or delete any of our notes. Extra notebooks are in the first drawer to the left. Come up with anything. Have fun. I'll be back once my bed has had its way with me."

Rachel left the room.

Will blinked. "Is it just me or was that a very strong Minnesotan dialect?"

"She is tired," said Louis. "Only way that would come out of her mouth is if she's past exhaustion."

"Rachel's from Minnesota?"

"Yeah, but she's... sensitive about the dialect thing. So don't mention it."

"Gotcha." Will glanced to the kitchenette in the back of the room, hoping Hayman had left a few sachets of proper tea behind. He was up, and he wanted to stay up. For whatever this was. "What exactly are we doing?"

Balcuwitz tapped the tablet and the whiteboard flickered to a massive blueprint of the machine that stalked Will's dreams and sent a chill up his spine.

"We are figuring out why Grovic's Device is doing what it's doing," said Balcuwitz.