@cjk [ audio ]

[signifies]

Hello everyone. My name is Clark. I'll try and keep this brief.

Firstly, I've drawn up a blank list and placed one on the bulletin board on each housing floor. If those with medical expertise feel comfortable, they can put their name, residence here, and — if they have one — specialisation, in case of an emergency. We have several residents who aren't from the same point in time, so if you'd like to volunteer to update someone's medical knowledge, please mark your name with an asterisk.

Secondly, ah-- [ a bit of a laugh. ] I'm from Kansas, which some of you might recognise as being host to some pretty bad weather. Now, I'm not going to say I'm paranoid, but-- I like to think ahead. So, I've made up some kits with some of the usual survival paraphernalia back home and distributed them between floors. Feel free to help yourselves if you need them.

[ No one has to use them, but he’d rather everyone knows they're available. ]

Thank you for your time.

( all replies in audio unless otherwise stated )

Comments

to video.

[signifies]

Hold on, I'll show you.

[ He switches the feed. Clark's wearing dark red plaid and his usual pair of black glasses, and smiles at her. He draws the flashlight and radio out of the box. ]

Here, this is for light.

[ He switches it on and off, facing the beam at the wall. ]

This is a radio receiver. Someone somewhere else will be able to tell you where the tornado is, and whether it's safe to go out or not.

[ He puts it down. ]

What year are you from, Mrs. Wynn?

[prisonking]

Yeah, you?

Next time you've got a project give me a shout. I'd be glad to help.

I'm Michael.

[signifies]

Yes, just before the storm.

And thank you. I'll keep that in mind.

Do you mind my asking where and when you're from?

[signifies]

[ He nods. ]

I have been shot at.

[ It didn't bother him that much. He doesn't even feel bullets. ]

If you're a good reporter, you should be making a few people angry.

[prisonking]

31/Male/Chicago/2005/Single

Too much information?

[signifies]

[ You actually made him laugh in surprise. Good job, Michael. ]

It'll be tomorrow's headline.

[signifies]

All right, I won't tell you.

[pundemic]

[She's unspeakably angry, all of a sudden, at all these people who had a perfect world and who were going out of their way to ruin it. How fucking stupid they must have felt when it was like, oh yeah, your arbitrary rules? Your borders? Your differences? They don't fucking matter at all. Everyone gets infected the same. Everyone dies the same. It's all just-- petty bullshit and her heartrate jumps to fight-or-flight fast at the thought of it.

It's not like they could have known. It's not like they had warning. But Clark's a good guy, and no one should have been shooting at him, and if humanity had been even a little bit more capable of working together maybe a good eighty percent of them wouldn't have fucking died.

She has to breathe. Shit, shit, if she doesn't breathe she's going to just stop being able to function right here in this stupid store beside their stupid automatic doors. Breathe, Ellie.

And she does.]

What's it-- [damn her strangled voice.] What's it like? Being a reporter.

[dust_of_life]

Oh man.

You must be an X-er.

[signifies]

[ Probably nobody left to tell her what a panic attack is or how to deal with one. Clark has put down the bags, and moves to block off someone's view of her from most angles. He squats, sure to give her space. ]

Ellie. I'm here. Are you all right?

[ His mother, somehow, always knew how long she had to, and she didn't have super-hearing. ]

One... [ in. ] two... [ out. ] just follow me.

[prisonking]

"CHICAGO MAN, SINGLE: TEN REASONS WHY"

Love it. Make sure you include my high-school graduation photo. The braces and afro are a must.

[signifies]

It'll take up the whole front page. Exclusive exposé

[pundemic]

[Joel held her, after David. She doesn't remember what he said, just the tone of his voice. Similar in cadence to how Clark's sounding now, but she doesn't-- she doesn't need a fucking babysitter. Or whatever the hell he thinks he's doing.]

I'm fine.

[She is. Of course she is. You have to function, when there's death around every corner. You function or you die. She doesn't have time to fall apart, and this is the dumbest fucking thing in the world to get worked up about. She has no way of knowing this is a matter of compounded interest. Getting bit. Riley dying. Tess. Henry, Sam, Joel being so fucking close to it and then-- fucking David. She's never had this much time to just sit and think about it and not have to worry instead about where her next meal is coming from, how many bullets she has left, whether or not that scrape is going to get infected or that loose tooth will have to be pulled.]

C'mon, get up-- people are going to start thinking you're weird.

[signifies]

[ I don't care what they think. The sharpness of the thought crosses his face, then Clark looks down. Showing vulnerability never comes easily even in the world he's from. He can't imagine what it must be like for her, and so young. ]

You're fine.

[ She will be. He'll just channel this into some aggressive baking. ]

Let's go.

[prisonking]

All the hot details you didn't ask for, Page Six.

[pundemic]

[They head for those sliding doors in silence. Once they're through and on the walkway outside, she kicks at his heel.]

I asked you a question, you know.

[signifies]

Tomorrow's edition: Will He Find Love?

Are you a Helvetica guy?

[signifies]

I know you did.

[ her being okay was more important!!! ]

It's good. I think it's my calling.

[pundemic]

[Excuse you, she is always okay. That's her superpower. Already it's like it never happened, her heart rate is back to normal, her voice steadier.]

What, like a destiny? You believe in that sort of thing?

[signifies]

[ He doesn't. Every person does what they can in the span of their lives. It's his fathers who put something else into words.

The symbol of the House of El means hope. He's learning what that means, and believing. ]

I think we all have a purpose in the world, and we owe it to ourselves to find it.

[pundemic]

[She had one. For a year, almost to the day, she had one. Now, she just curls her fingers around the straps of her bags and tries not to think about the bitemark on her arm. No cure is coming. Joel said they've stopped looking.

She doesn't believe him. But she isn't going to tell him that.]

That seems-- I don't know, naive to me. Sorry.

[prisonking]

Comic-Sans.

I like to advertise my creative genius.

[signifies]

I'm not sure we can be friends, Michael.

[signifies]

[ His mouth lifts in a brief smile. ]

No offence taken.

[pundemic]

Is that why you're so cool with all of this?

[Unspoken: with me?]

Because of that whole... war correspondent thing?