[Cecil is in his room, shuddering, arms wrapped tightly around his body. Is it fear? Is it the cold?

His closet door is open, and there's a bedsheet draped over it -- covering the mirror.

Cecil's fingers press into his sides, pulling at the fabric of his shirt, nearly tearing it. He stares straight ahead, his bright eyes wide; unseeing.]

My mother always said that it would be a mirror.

Good day. My name is Miles Edgeworth; I am with the Security team. As ever, I would like to request that any new arrivals with expertise in law enforcement, the military, or combat contact me to discuss potential employment.

[He would also like to request that all you dicks stop talking about The Worst Holiday Ever, thanks. And he would like to distract you from it with this:]

I should like, also, to discuss our backgrounds. I have done this in the past, I will grant, and as such I beg a bit of patience from those who have previously seen such questions. Nevertheless, I believe that discovering the commonalities amongst us will assist in the uncovering of the reason why we were brought here; more, a general census will, I think, assist in preventing people from falling through the cracks, as it were.

[And it will GET YOU BASTARDS TO SHUT UP ABOUT CHRISTMAS FOR FIFTEEN GODDAMN SECONDS]

I have attached a text document. Kindly open this document, fill it out, and submit it to me. Note that number five is quite optional, but an answer would be appreciated and potentially quite helpful.

( survey.doc )

Hello, everyone. I hope you're all doing well -- or, at least, better than you were before. I had a lucid dream recently. I dreamed of constellations, of patterns, of meaning. Then I awoke and quickly wrote everything down, hands trembling, smearing ink across the page. I'm out of practice with pens.

In any case, I feel it is my professional duty to share these revelations with you. They are as follows:

( Read more... )

Contact.

[ will sounds like he's giving a lecture when he comes on the screen. he's looking directly into the camera — it's easier to make eye contact with a device. ]

That's the key to all this. If you're receiving foreign sensation, you need to track down the person it originated with and make skin-to-skin contact. It'll stop the side-effects, and eventually — hopefully — break the connection. Doesn't have to be more personal than a handshake.

[ a pause, and he glances down, off-camera, visibly discomfited by the fact that the hand not holding his device is in the grip of another. ]

An... extended handshake. Whatever timer this thing is working on, we think letting go resets it.

[ the screen’s upended as sherlock hijacks the device, settling on his face (at an admittedly slightly awkward angle) a moment later. ]

But in the meantime— I’m sure you’ve all noticed that the physical links are current, unlike the memories, and arguably offer us a great deal more control. Passive sensations are the exception, but if I were to hypothetically hit my hand — as our resident neurologist has demonstrated — then Mr. Graham would feel it. [ and by hypothetically he means he's tested it, several times. ]

In the case of mutual sensations, like, say, holding one’s hand, this creates a unique feedback loop; the sensation of their hand in yours, and yours in theirs, et cetera. [ speaking of hand-holding, holding will’s hand is getting in the way of his usual gesturing; the screen's unsteady as a result. ] While I'm reluctant to test the theory with present company — no offense — I imagine this could apply to other neutral or positive sensations. If one were to engage in sexual intimacy with their link partner, for instance, then the moment of—

[ in another blur of abrupt motion, will takes his device back — and also his hand. no offense. ]

Better reset the clock to zero, Mr. Holmes.

[This is a new voice. A smooth voice, canyon-deep and deliberate in its enunciation. Occasionally, the speaker breaks from his practiced tone, but, for the most part -- this sounds like a professional.]

Hello, everyone -- however many people and non-humanoid entities that word may entail. I won't take up too much of your time tonight, but I'm sure you've all noticed it by now. The stray feelings, arriving out of nowhere, and with no apparent courier. The images, too.

Oh, the things I've already seen so far. The things I may never stop seeing. The things now imprinted, permanently, behind my eyelids.

[He sighs, but he doesn't sound aggrieved. It's a soft, dreamy exhale, a gentle 'aah' that's slightly incongruous with the low, dark octaves of his voice.]

I just wanted to say, to whomever may be behind this: you're doing a great job. Simply fantastic. We had an emotional entrepreneur in my little hometown, and I thought I was impressed by their work, but this is a cut above! Full-featured memories, delivered right to us, and without any long and frustrating sign-up process.

It's a great service, and you're performing it so efficiently. Why, if this keeps up, I may never have a feeling or thought of my own again. My sense of self might become completely sublimated to a foreign set of memories and experiences. I would have no identity-based responsibilities whatsoever.

Dream vacation, right?

So keep up the good work, whoever you are. Five stars.