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Mar. 11th, 2008 03:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gone_byebye“It… it’s okay, sweetie,” said Ray, stepping forward. Resolutely, he ignored the urge to look outside. Ecto was somehow contriving to look pathetically huddled despite her distinctly rigid construction. “I don’t know what’s going on, but we’ll fix it, I promise.”
“Big words,” muttered Venkman. “We don’t even know what’s going on-“
“You’re not helping, Peter.”
Winston chose that moment to step outside, returning moments later with a newspaper. “It says it’s the Post, “ he reported, “but it looks like it’s… respectable.”
“You gotta be kidding me.” Venkman pushed past Ecto and Ray to have a look. “Holy cow. That doesn’t even look like the Post.”
“Naturally not,” said Egon. “If this really is 1905, Rupert Murdoch hasn’t even been born yet, let alone had the chance to run Hamilton’s newspaper into the ground.”
“No, I mean it’s the size of the Times,” said Peter, holding up the broadsheet. “Seriously, Egon, you could paper-train a puppy with this thing.”
“You’re right about one thing, though,” said Winston, who looked as if he was concentrating on the paper at the expense of all the other stuff going on. “It hasn’t been run into the ground yet. This is real news-“ He flipped through a few pages. “All of it’s real news. Even the editorials. Check it out, they just crowned a new king of Norway.”
Egon and Peter gathered around Winston to peruse the paper. Ray took the opportunity to sidle over and rest a hand on Ecto’s hood. “I don’t even know how I’m talking, Daddy,” Ecto said in a very small voice. “I can’t find any of my parts. I think I run on steam.”
“Well, it can’t be that bad if you can still talk and think,” Ray said. “I mean, for all that your technology’s gone seriously retrograde, it is still working, right?”
“I guess,” said Ecto. “I can’t even get signal, though. And I can’t run a diagnostic because I don’t know where my radio circuits are-”
“Maybe that’s not you,” Ray suggested. “If we’ve been thrust back in time somehow, it could just be that there’s no radio broadcasting for you to hear.”
“You’re half right,” came a voice from outside. “There sure as hell isn’t any radio in Manhattan.”
Ray and the others all looked up at the same time. It was Lieutenant Chen, looking as disgruntled as always. His uniform, at least, looked wearable- but the fact that he was doing everything in his power to bring one of the NYPD Mounted Division’s horses to a stop, and not having much success, couldn’t have been improving his mood any. “God dammit, Two-bits, I said whoa!”
Ray’s hand went to his neck; Garion’s medallion was still there. Thanking his lucky stars for small mercies, he let out a short, sharp whistle- in essence, a call of Hey! You! The horse’s head came up sharply, and the big bay whinnied- but stopped moving.
“Oh, thank God,” said Chen as he slumped forward in the saddle. “You have no idea what it took to get- holy schlamoly!”
“Very funny,” said Venkman, the target of Chen’s surprise. “You’re not exactly looking clean-shaven yourself, I notice.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not the one giving Stalin a run for his money,” said Chen. “What the hell, Dr. Venkman?”
“Somebody- I’m not saying who, but somebody- hid all the razors this morning.”
Chen shook his head. “Never mind,” he said. “You guys’re wanted at City Hall. I tried phoning you, but nobody at the phone company’s any good with turn-of-the-century hardware. Nobody anywhere is. It’s like this all over Manhattan, guys.”
“Really,” said Egon, pushing his pince-nez up his nose with one finger. “Does it extend into any of the other boroughs?”
“Not as far as we can tell, and it hasn’t hit New Jersey, either.” said Chen. The horse tossed its head and snorted. “Quiet, you.”
“It’s all right, Lieutenant,” said Ray, moving forward. “He’s just impatient. There’s a lot more horses around today than he’s used to.”
Chen eyed Ray for a moment, then shook his head. “Great. Just my luck. If I get near the other horses is he going to start sniffing butts?”
“No, they don’t work that way,” Ray said.
“Good. That and not falling off and breaking my neck are all I care about right now. How’s that daughter of yours, anyway?”
“She’s, um…” Ray glanced over his shoulder. “Well- see for yourself.”
The horse’s ears slanted back a moment as Ecto hesitantly rolled forward into the daylight. “Um. Hi, Lieutenant,” she said.
Chen whistled at the sight. “Wow. You look, um… actually, you look great.”
“Really?” said Ecto, in an I-want-to-believe-you tone.
“Seriously. Like something out of a museum.” Chen wrapped his reins around his hands a few extra times, provoking a snort from the horse. “But, uh, so do all the cars in the city right now- the ones that’re left.”
“How do you mean?” asked Winston. “The only news we’ve got right now’s this.” He held up the copy of the Post.
Chen nodded. “Yeah, I know. All the newspapers in the city’re from 1905. Half of ‘em are papers that went out of business years ago. Something happened last night that looks like it grabbed pretty much every single inanimate object on this island and turned the clock back to 1905, hard. And if the object wasn’t there in ’05, it stopped being there. The Red Cross guys’re going berserk trying to find houses for everybody who lived in buildings that aren’t there any more.”
Ray’s breath hissed between his teeth, but Venkman put up a hand. “Question. How far down does it go?”
“Far enough down that the subways’re all missing- except for the old IRT lines,” said Chen. “And we’ve got elevated train service back, too. Listen, no offense, but like I said- the Mayor wants to see you. Think you can get to City Hall from here by yourselves? The sooner I get Two-bits here back to the stable, the happier both of us’re gonna be.”
“Ecto, honey?” Ray said. “Think you can do it?”
“I can try, Daddy,” said the ambulance after some thought. “But there’s no room in the back. I don’t know what all that hardware is, but it doesn’t come out.”
“That’s fine,” Ray said. “All right, Lieutenant. We’ll be there shortly.”
“Thanks,” said Chen. “I’ll see you there. Looks like October came early this year, huh?”
Oh, man, I hope not, Ray thought.
“Big words,” muttered Venkman. “We don’t even know what’s going on-“
“You’re not helping, Peter.”
Winston chose that moment to step outside, returning moments later with a newspaper. “It says it’s the Post, “ he reported, “but it looks like it’s… respectable.”
“You gotta be kidding me.” Venkman pushed past Ecto and Ray to have a look. “Holy cow. That doesn’t even look like the Post.”
“Naturally not,” said Egon. “If this really is 1905, Rupert Murdoch hasn’t even been born yet, let alone had the chance to run Hamilton’s newspaper into the ground.”
“No, I mean it’s the size of the Times,” said Peter, holding up the broadsheet. “Seriously, Egon, you could paper-train a puppy with this thing.”
“You’re right about one thing, though,” said Winston, who looked as if he was concentrating on the paper at the expense of all the other stuff going on. “It hasn’t been run into the ground yet. This is real news-“ He flipped through a few pages. “All of it’s real news. Even the editorials. Check it out, they just crowned a new king of Norway.”
Egon and Peter gathered around Winston to peruse the paper. Ray took the opportunity to sidle over and rest a hand on Ecto’s hood. “I don’t even know how I’m talking, Daddy,” Ecto said in a very small voice. “I can’t find any of my parts. I think I run on steam.”
“Well, it can’t be that bad if you can still talk and think,” Ray said. “I mean, for all that your technology’s gone seriously retrograde, it is still working, right?”
“I guess,” said Ecto. “I can’t even get signal, though. And I can’t run a diagnostic because I don’t know where my radio circuits are-”
“Maybe that’s not you,” Ray suggested. “If we’ve been thrust back in time somehow, it could just be that there’s no radio broadcasting for you to hear.”
“You’re half right,” came a voice from outside. “There sure as hell isn’t any radio in Manhattan.”
Ray and the others all looked up at the same time. It was Lieutenant Chen, looking as disgruntled as always. His uniform, at least, looked wearable- but the fact that he was doing everything in his power to bring one of the NYPD Mounted Division’s horses to a stop, and not having much success, couldn’t have been improving his mood any. “God dammit, Two-bits, I said whoa!”
Ray’s hand went to his neck; Garion’s medallion was still there. Thanking his lucky stars for small mercies, he let out a short, sharp whistle- in essence, a call of Hey! You! The horse’s head came up sharply, and the big bay whinnied- but stopped moving.
“Oh, thank God,” said Chen as he slumped forward in the saddle. “You have no idea what it took to get- holy schlamoly!”
“Very funny,” said Venkman, the target of Chen’s surprise. “You’re not exactly looking clean-shaven yourself, I notice.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not the one giving Stalin a run for his money,” said Chen. “What the hell, Dr. Venkman?”
“Somebody- I’m not saying who, but somebody- hid all the razors this morning.”
Chen shook his head. “Never mind,” he said. “You guys’re wanted at City Hall. I tried phoning you, but nobody at the phone company’s any good with turn-of-the-century hardware. Nobody anywhere is. It’s like this all over Manhattan, guys.”
“Really,” said Egon, pushing his pince-nez up his nose with one finger. “Does it extend into any of the other boroughs?”
“Not as far as we can tell, and it hasn’t hit New Jersey, either.” said Chen. The horse tossed its head and snorted. “Quiet, you.”
“It’s all right, Lieutenant,” said Ray, moving forward. “He’s just impatient. There’s a lot more horses around today than he’s used to.”
Chen eyed Ray for a moment, then shook his head. “Great. Just my luck. If I get near the other horses is he going to start sniffing butts?”
“No, they don’t work that way,” Ray said.
“Good. That and not falling off and breaking my neck are all I care about right now. How’s that daughter of yours, anyway?”
“She’s, um…” Ray glanced over his shoulder. “Well- see for yourself.”
The horse’s ears slanted back a moment as Ecto hesitantly rolled forward into the daylight. “Um. Hi, Lieutenant,” she said.
Chen whistled at the sight. “Wow. You look, um… actually, you look great.”
“Really?” said Ecto, in an I-want-to-believe-you tone.
“Seriously. Like something out of a museum.” Chen wrapped his reins around his hands a few extra times, provoking a snort from the horse. “But, uh, so do all the cars in the city right now- the ones that’re left.”
“How do you mean?” asked Winston. “The only news we’ve got right now’s this.” He held up the copy of the Post.
Chen nodded. “Yeah, I know. All the newspapers in the city’re from 1905. Half of ‘em are papers that went out of business years ago. Something happened last night that looks like it grabbed pretty much every single inanimate object on this island and turned the clock back to 1905, hard. And if the object wasn’t there in ’05, it stopped being there. The Red Cross guys’re going berserk trying to find houses for everybody who lived in buildings that aren’t there any more.”
Ray’s breath hissed between his teeth, but Venkman put up a hand. “Question. How far down does it go?”
“Far enough down that the subways’re all missing- except for the old IRT lines,” said Chen. “And we’ve got elevated train service back, too. Listen, no offense, but like I said- the Mayor wants to see you. Think you can get to City Hall from here by yourselves? The sooner I get Two-bits here back to the stable, the happier both of us’re gonna be.”
“Ecto, honey?” Ray said. “Think you can do it?”
“I can try, Daddy,” said the ambulance after some thought. “But there’s no room in the back. I don’t know what all that hardware is, but it doesn’t come out.”
“That’s fine,” Ray said. “All right, Lieutenant. We’ll be there shortly.”
“Thanks,” said Chen. “I’ll see you there. Looks like October came early this year, huh?”
Oh, man, I hope not, Ray thought.
