Two days of searching.

Still nothing. Jackson did leave his camera in his car, though, and I did take some video, but there's a problem. First, there's nothing of interest around here. I've seen where he filmed, but I found nothing. The other problem is that my voice doesn't...record properly. I damn near went deaf when I played back a short recording with me talking over the camera. The same when I try to film myself. The camera goes haywire.

I'm really not supposed to be here, am I?

I would stumble into this 'verse and not know what day it is.

I suppose I'll wait until Monday for Jackson to show back up. Or his roommate. For fuck's sake, anyone.

Awakening.

It's like I only have a few minutes at a time to be here, and most of the time I'm not actually "here" in so many words, I'm, well... I feel like an echo on the surface of the deep.

But this time, I'm here. I know I am. I'm sitting in front of Jackson's laptop right now, typing this in. I have been for hours. This place...this place is deserted. He's gone, his roommate and her child are gone, and it looks like it's been this way for weeks. The kitchen is caked with dust, the fridge has only a little bit of food in it, and it's long since spoiled. Though, I suppose that doesn't matter to me. I haven't eaten in months. Haven't wanted or needed to.

And yet the laptop is on. Looks like it's been used recently, but that doesn't make sense. Nothing makes sense anymore. I don't understand what's going on here. If Jackson or his roommate don't come back by the morning, and if I'm still here to take action, I'll call the landlord and find out what's going on.

This is too much, even for me.

riding the rails

escape

dialtone