Aftermath

"Hmmm…"

I tapped the long nail of my finger against the countertop as I looked down into the sink, examining the empty plate that was still in there.

Funny thing was: there should be a small Cornish hen thawing in there, and now there's not. It was there this morning before I left for work. I can distinctly remember putting it in there so it could thaw without leaving a huge mess.

There's only one logical explanation for the missing chicken.

I walked over to the small table where Scotty's food bowl was located on the floor under the window.

…

Yup.

An unthawed half-eaten Cornish hen, with wrapping messily torn away, is sitting in Scotty's food bowl.

"Well, I appreciate that you took it to your bowl," I said to Scotty, who is still in the living room, snuggled in his basket, and looking at me with his big blue eyes since he can see that I'm next to his food bowl during the time when I would usually be serving him his dinner. "But because you got an extra big lunch, no dinner for you this evening, Naughty Kitty."

Scotty let out a pitiful mew in response.

"Oh, don't meow at me for something that's clearly your fault," I said picking up what was left of hen out of the bowl. There will be no overweight kitties in this apartment!

How in the world did he manage to carry this thing?

I weighed the hen myself when I bought it. It was about a pound and a half. While frozen, it just had to be heavier than that.

Heh, cats.

Well, at least Scotty has given me something to do other then go through what happened earlier today for what feels like the ten thousandth time.

But really, I can't blame myself. What had happened and what I discovered was mind-blowing…

So mind-blowing that I'm resisting the urge to type my new findings into Raziel…

As confident as I am with my programming of Raziel, and its ability to hide unless you know where to look, my gut feeling tells me that the ability to communicate and interact with the past through the Animus is something that should stay hidden in my own head.

No records means no proof that I know something that I shouldn't.

So unless I find proof that what happened to me was not a one-time unique occurrence, this is a secret I'm gonna take to my grave.

With that vow in mind, I go back to cleaning the mess Scotty made and try to figure out what I should eat now that the cat ruined my dinner.

…

…

Okay really, who am I trying to kid here?

Here I am, trying to act out like nothing unusual happened today when in reality I'm still "OMFG"-ing in my own head.

Sighing, I just dump the remains of the hen into a random refrigerator drawer, not really caring if it's in the meat drawer or the vegetable drawer, and I let myself fall heavily down onto the couch in the living room, my face landing square center into one of the couch pillows. My stomach doesn't feel empty anyway, and the usual tiredness I would be feeling after an Animus session is something my over-active brain won't allow me to acknowledge.

Trying to wrapped one's head over something that should, logically—rationally—technically—realistically—be impossible would do that do ya.

It doesn't help the fact that when I looked over the Animus' recordings of when I—unrealistically—was talking to Edward in the El Dorado's crow's nest, the Animus didn't show Edward anywhere near the crow's nest.

No, it showed Edward sailing the El Dorado well past the sunset time and into part of the late evening before retiring to the Captain's quarters to rest.

Not once did he ever go to the crow's nest.

I groaned heavily into the pillow.

No record, no proof that what happened—what I discovered—really actually happened.

What does that tell ya?

That I had a dream? A hallucination? Or did I suddenly developed schizophrenia? Or something?

And the answer is: no, no, and no.

Regardless of the absence of any proof, I know what happened in the Animus really did happen. Because I myself well enough to know that I don't dream that vividly, I'm perfectly healthy and I'm not psychotic.

I'm just trying to figure out how this happened, and why.

And I'm going around in circles and getting nowhere with what I'm doing now.

With this conclusive understanding, I lift myself off the couch, and headed to my room, Scotty suddenly at my heels, following me inside.

Nothing is going to get answered by me sitting on the couch with my head buried in the pillow, not about the Animus, the kidnapping and disappearance of Desmond Miles, and the Templars' current and future plans for the world unless I step up my game, regardless of the dangers of being caught.

R-L's been quiet, now is the time to play, and it's about time I allowed myself to.

After a restless night of basically reintroducing myself to Montreal's online systems, I find myself walking down the street, heading back to my "day job."

Ugh, after yesterday's big shocking surprise, followed by a night of system exploration I'm not sure if I want to be in the potentially high snake pit known as Abstergo Entertainment anymore.

…

…Actually, if I'm really being honest with myself, I think it's more like I'm not sure I want to be there anymore because it means I'll be seeing Edward again.

Yesterday's surprise interaction changed the rules and dynamics between us.

It was no longer gonna be observer and subject, viewer and the person being viewed, present looking the past, two people who were never supposed to meet…

No, if I'm gonna continue working with Edward, I'm gonna have to form a relationship with him.

When I first came to Montreal, I was prepared to be alone. For my safety, and the safety of my family in America, I wouldn't bond or trust anyone; the Templars and their associates—whether they know it or not—could be everywhere and anyone.

Trust no one, I told myself. It's too dangerous to trust. They'll catch you if you slip up. Everyone is a liability to your safety and your family's.

I was a deer in a Lion's den and the only thing that kept me alive was my own wits.

But now…

Now, I have no choice.

Edward can't be avoided.

…okay Nikki: think!

What do you going to do? How are you going to keep control in this unwanted and unexpected situation? How do you keep your secrecy safe? Because even though you were lucky that there was no recording of your first meeting with Edward, that doesn't mean that your luck is infinite. There's always the possibility that you'll get recorded when you least expect it because you let your guard down.

But let's start with what you do know about what will happen when you meet Edward again—because there's no avoiding it. You will meet him again.

You know that he's gonna want to know about you and everything, but considering the space/time differences between the two of you, so how the heck is he gonna understand anything you tell him and not think of you as a "Looney Ghost" anyway?

You're a twenty-first century girl with modern ideas, technology and way of life. You live in a world where there's fifty states in America, democracy has replaced the traditional monarchy government in many places around the world, woman have more freedoms and equality, African Americans are no longer second-class citizens, and you're allowed to choose your own religious beliefs.

And don't get started on the technology changes!

How's an eighteenth century man going to understand any of that?

…

Well, I guess the answer is simple: don't tell him the whole truth; edit the truth to fit in what his eighteenth century mind may be able to comprehend.

But in practice…well…

Sigh.

No book or movie—hell, I'll even go with a video game—in the world can prepare you for this sort of thing, even though I seen this theme before in the media and fiction.

"Past and Present" meet one another…?

They made it sound so easy.

Heh.

Those guys have NO idea.

I find my feet pausing in front of the entrance to Abstergo Entertainment.

I look up towards the second floor of the building, where my Animus was waiting for me, and within that Animus: Edward.

Kami-sama, if you truly exist in the world, please give my strength.

I step through the doors.

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