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[From here.]

Ray would ordinarily take the stairs two at a time, because he's like that, but he's got a wobbly Venkman to worry about, so he walks like a normal person for once. He heads right past his original door and stops at another one nearby. "Okay, got the key here somewhere... got it."

The room inside is significantly larger than his last- two or three times larger, really. It contains all the same stuff as his old room, but it's... organized. Segregated into sections, neatly shelved on wire racks, and lined up along walls and out of the way. Even the stacks of books in a few places on the floor are neat stacks, and organized by subject.

You can see the floor.

Comments

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Ray's eyes slid back to the card. "You had it right the first time," he said, turning it over to show the star. "Which I could've told you as soon as I saw the spike on the screen. Let's try a few more."

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Peter sighed, and shook his head, "Ok.... uh... circle." He felt like he seeing them through a ton of sludge. They weren't burning in there like normal.

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"Well, you got that one, at least," Ray said, turning the card over. "Let's keep going."

It would take a while to run through enough of the deck for it to count as a representative sample and get enough results on the computer.

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Peter nodded, and continued concentrating on the cards. Again, he found himself faltering and unsure as he called out his ideas. He was getting a bit tense again as result, and the image flashed and burned briefly but then, nothing. He was just guessing randomly after that.

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Eventually, Ray sighed and put down the deck. "You were doing really well there for a while," he said, "and then you just lost it. I think you're going to have to take up meditating in earnest for a while, just to get yourself together again."

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Peter shook his head again, "I wasn't going well even at the beginning. I'm barely getting anything. Like my whole view got shot all to hell."

He added, "I hated getting these at the beginning, but now it feel weird without them."

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"It's still there to some degree," Ray pointed out. "We're just going to have to work you up slowly until you get it back. You know. Like the rehab guys at Kessler, who work with trauma victims until they get full use of their legs or arms or whatever back. It's probably still there, just masked by a, a temporary strain."

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Peter just gave him a look that said, 'You're sure about that idea?'

"Assuming it's temporary. This place hasn't had any neurophysicians show up, right?"

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Ray sighs, switching off the machine. "Closest they've got is Dr. McCoy, who's got a pretty fair understanding of the Vulcan brain and its interface with human physiology, but that's not really the same thing. Come on, Peter, it's supposed to be Egon doing the pessimist act. The least you can do is act optimistic. You're scaring me here."

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You think you're scared...
Peter sighed, "You're right, just a temporary lapse? I'm tough, this is nothing to the likes of Peter Venkman."

He took a few breaths, relaxing. The room vanished around him, and he was back in the Firehall in his mind. Ugh... looked Slimer had a drunken fest with his ghost buddies by the looks of it. No wonder he felt he was seeing through sludge. Let's clear away with this junk, and the slime slid off the walls.

While this was going on, a blue glow seemed to surround Peter as his eyes remained closed.

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Ray's eyes slid over to his PKE meter, which was starting to twitter quietly. He nodded to himself and casually switched the computer back on as well.

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Peter took no notice of this or the steady glow of PKE (or what the likes of Orihime and the shinigami and Quincies would call Spirit Force) around him as he continued his work. There was also some rubble in places, probably from when his neurons misfired in shock from the shark incident. He gave a small chuckle. This seemed easy to fix, what the hell was his problem before? The repairs and cleaning took a while, and afterwards, he felt like he ran from the Village up to Harlem with his pack. But it was done.

He opened his eyes slowly, sagging visibly, and the eerie blue glow gone.

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"Quite a display you had going on there, Pete," Ray said, eyes still on the screen. "Let's try this again, shall we? The paperclip is over there."

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Peter blinked a few times, "Huh?" It took a few moments for him to come back to himself. He felt better, but still drained.

He noticed the paperclip, and in a casual and lazy fashion, it slowly rose, swooping like a feather a few times, before clattering to the floor after rising 2 feet.

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"Much better," Ray said approvingly. "Did you want to try the cards, or are you too zonked to do any more of this right now?"

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Peter was tempted to push on, but maybe he'd better not.

"I'd say yeah, but that's how I got problems last time. Need to know my limit." He sank back against the chair. "Consider myself flagged."

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"No problem. I'll start work on the zap collar as soon as I've analyzed the data, then. Unless you wanted the sensors in another format or something," Ray added hastily.

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Peter winced, and stared at his friend, "A collar? Not a spiked one right?" He gave his friend a knowing look.

"Maybe a bracelet? Not as obvious, but effective, still?"

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Ray just rolled his eyes; after a certain scene in the movie, there was very little that Peter could say that could properly embarrass him. "I was thinking something more like those portable personal air conditioners that Sharper Image sells, actually," he says. "The only reason I was saying collar is because that puts it closer to the brain and spinal column, which means that you don't have to get as close to critical overload as you would with the wrist. But I can try to amp up the sensitivity a little bit and compensate for that."

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Peter thought for a moment. He couldn't afford to take a risk. He came close to frying himself into a vegetable already.

"All right, but a subtle and tasteful collar. I got an image to maintain, and I don't need wires and lights hanging off my neck."

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"Won't be a problem," Ray promises. "Silver and blue okay? I'm talking brushed silver, not shiny like chrome."

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"Fine, still gonna be some odd jewelry, but it can help at all... Thanks, Ray."

Peter then pointed to the headgear, "I can lose the colander now, right?"

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"huh? Oh, yeah," Ray said absently as he started disassembling his end of the rig. "We're good, we're good. HOw's the head feeling, anyway?"

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"Like Sugar Ray Leonard used it for boxing practice." Peter paused, and blinked as he removed the rig. Hmmm... not as much a headache though. "Headache's mostly gone now. Just tired really."

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Ray started putting the parts away. "All right, that's good. Nap kind of tired, or coffee kind of tired?"