The New York Soul Exchange

[gone_byebye]

Ray has tried to make a habit of using the same door to go to Milliways every time, except when there's an emergency. The door in the alley was inaccessible for obvious reasons- the Miliways side might change size freely, but the Firehouse side? Ha. It's the door from the garage into the street, or it's nothing.

Which means, essentially, that the hearse backs out of the Bar and onto a street scene that looks like this, or possibly this. It pauses a moment.

"You okay back there, Dominic?"

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[grumpyseer.livejournal.com]

The memories are coming out of order now.

Step.

A blue-skinned, purple-haired man stands before Dominic, scowling in anger. His voice arrives at Dominic's ears without passing through the surrounding air. Let's say you're watching over Luna for many years when all of a sudden someone comes along and rips off her arm. Tell me... how 'collected' would you be?

Step.

"What? Stay inside and sulk on a day like this?" A young man with flaming red hair pushes his chair back away from the dinner table and stands up. "Luna... we're going SHOPPING!" he cries triumphantly... then promptly drops to the ground. "Uh, Gregory?" says Dominic from the next chair over. "You need your staff to stand."

Step.

A dark, cavernous room of stone. A man dressed in black, with black-and-white streaked hair, kneels before an unadorned stone table. His left arm is riddled with black lines and there are iron nails pinning it to the table's surface. "Enjoy the show, little brother," the man mutters, and rises, the flesh of his arm tearing away to reveal black bone beneath.

[gone_byebye]

The numbers continue to spiral upwards, splitting in two and branching with every cycle of the processor.

The garage is dark, but Daddy's just come down the stairs, and he's got a book with him. "Where were we?" he asks, settling into a folding chair and opening a fat book on his lap. "Chapter twenty-three, Daddy. You just finished chapter twenty-two last night." "Oh yes. Here we are. Chapter Twenty-three: On The Dangers Of Selective Physicality. Hazards, Precautions, and Control Procedures Thereof."

Another cycle.

They're driving down the street, most of Ecto's scanner data relegated to the less important, lower priority portions of the processor; she's busy keeping a safe course and talking to her father, who's in the driver's seat. But I thought you wanted me to do stuff for myself!" Ecto protested. "Why's that a bad thing?" "It's not bad, kiddo. It's not bad at all. It just reminded me that I didn't think of something. If you get to think for yourself, and act for yourself, then you get to make your own decisions and choices. When you're ready, I mean. You're still learning yet, so it's best to take that stuff slowly- but if you're going to be a real person, you're going to have to decide all kinds of things for yourself someday."

Another turn of the processor.

"Wait, are we in Wisconsin?" says a white-haired boy with green eyes. Ecto knows him; that's Danny. "Uncle Egon?" she says. "Are you sure you wanna take a bunch of crazy people to rescue Daddy?"

And another.

This is not a memory that's easy for her to process; the firebeads are gone, the underpinnings vanished. There's only the surface forms, solid and impermeable and analog. This is what the world looks like to humans- what it feels like, smells like, tastes like. It's overwhelming, or it would be if it weren't for the fact that the big red-and-white hearse in front of her is stretching out a multiply jointed mechanical arm to touch her own-

"I think we might be home," the orb at Dominic's side observes quietly.

[grumpyseer.livejournal.com]

And they are. They've reached the end of the tunnel. The space before them is empty, but only for the moment; already the patterns are spiraling out from beneath their feet. Ecto is filling herself with herself again.

"We are. It's done."

[gone_byebye]

"Huzzah!" cries Ecto, and bounces briefly up and down. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

She lets go of Dominic's hand and slips back into place, fairly squee'ing all the while.

[grumpyseer.livejournal.com]

"You're welcome." Dominic takes one last look at the mindscape before him, and then steps back out.



Outside, Egon has observed the following: Dominic laid one hand on the car and the other on the man next to him, and closed his eyes. All of the car's lights went out, the man flinched and gasped, the car's lights went on again, and Dominic opened his eyes.

Total elapsed time: 3.17 seconds.

[gone_byebye]

Egon will be going through the data logs of all his scanning equipment for a week, trying to find some kind of hint as to what happened.

Meanwhile, up on the roof, Peter pokes his head out over the alley. "Let us know when you're going to start, guys!" he calls.

Ray looks up and calls back, "He already did! Hi, Pete! I've got biology again!"

As Venkman starts muttering about missing all the good parts, Ray gets up (oh, wow! Legs! He has legs for the first time in a week!) and steps over to lay a hand fondly on Ecto's fender. "Dominic?" he says, turning to the seer. "I don't know how to thank you for this. I really don't. But the both of us are more grateful than I know how to say."

[grumpyseer.livejournal.com]

"You're welcome," says Dominic with a weak smile.

He wobbles forward a little, then collapses in a heap on the pavement.

[gone_byebye]

Ray sighs at that. "Ecto?" he says. "Think you could, uh-"

"No problem, Daddy," says the car with some amusement. It's nothing at all for those two robotic arms to sneak out and gather up the exhausted seer; Ratchet did his work well, software and hardware alike. It's not even that hard to ease his form into a semblance of relaxation across the car's back seat, since it would really freak out any passers-by to see the car holding him over its roof as it maneuvered back into the garage.

After some discussion, the cot that Ectos lept on when she was in human shape is procured. Dominic will eventually wake up on that.

... with, um, Slimer pulling one finger out of his ear. Sorry, the ghost's been living with Peter Venkman. It does things to your sense of humor.