William Vincent Silvaro's Story

Alarms were blaring in his room again, meaning he had caused another incident without his knowledge while he slept. It had been a while, but William was able to recall what those sounds meant, and when he finally roused himself enough to sit up and open his eyes he found the cause for them this time. Looking around the dark room, lit only by the flashes of the red lights spinning around on the ceiling, he can see that his bedside table had been the casualty of his nightmare this time. There was nothing left of the poor wooden thing except a few pieces of charred, still smouldering wood scattered about on the floor.

For the safety, and well being of the other 'patients,' as he called them, his room had been made of thick steel and concrete, and made to be completely soundproof. The only way he ever heard anything of the outside world was through the intercom system, or when he was allowed outside his room.

"Will, you awake in there?" comes a gruff, but not unkind voice from the speakers hidden somewhere in the high ceiling above. It was the voice of...Doctor Feltson, or so William though. He knew the voice, but sometimes the name wouldn't come to him, or sometimes a name would come to him, but he had no way of knowing it was the right one or not unless he asked. And he hated asking questions in this place. "Looks like you had another nightmare, can you remember anything about this one? It must not have been too bad if only a table got destroyed." Yes, it was Doctor Feltson, an older fellow, William knew, with children...or so he thought. Maybe he was wrong. "Care to share your thoughts?"

Leaning forward he places his face in his hands and tries to rub the weariness away from his consciousness. It worked, but it also made him wonder how long he had been asleep. As a side effect of his memory condition he had a very loose sense of time, meaning he might stay up till three in the morning and wonder why he was to tired because he thought it was only noon. But of course he was kept on a schedule, even if he didn't know it. One which was directed and overseen by the scientists and nurses...and occasionally the odd man with a fire extinguisher. But it was a new day...or night, and he needed to get a move on if he were going to do anything more than lie around and breath in the scent of smoke and listen to the alarms.

"Nightmare?" William asks as he slides out of bed and stands up, stretching out his arms and legs and back, hearing and feeling several pops and cracks in the process. "Nope, not a damned thing boss. You know I don't ever remember my dreams, I thought we'd gone over this already."

"We have Will, we have, but you know I have to ask these questions." Feltson says over the intercom systems just before the alarms are shut off and the safely tucked away overhead lights come on, casting a pale white light on the room, completely revealing the snow white ceramic tiles, some stained black from the earlier explosion. The floor was left bare, cold and grey beneath William's feet as he made his way over to the closet. "Orientation is today. Get dressed and head to the common room, some of the others have already made it there." By now William was dressed in his usual attire, fumbling with his tie once more, as he did every day. This problem had nothing to do with being unable to remember how to properly tie a tie, it was simply that he sucked at doing so. But five minutes later and a few muffled curses finds him heading out the door.

(From some unknown observatory safe from the explosions...)
"It's a shame he never learned to control his powers." Feltson says, taking down a few notes on a clipboard. "He has a powerful ability that could be very useful if refined." Reaching over to a near by desk he picks up a stamp and presses it against the sheet of paper, leaving behind the Greek Beta symbol next to the name William Vincent Silvaro. "Richards, give this to the director on your way, I have some more papers to fill out before the morning is over."

Walking by one of the men in white coats, which William knew to carry around a pack of smokes despite such a thing being frowned upon, he slips a cigarette from his pocket when the man isn't looking and slips it into his mouth before raising his hand and ever so gently touching the tip of the cigarette, causing a tiny explosion which lights it. No lighter required. Taking a few slow drags from it he makes his way on down the hall to the common room, glancing around, remembering the small, insignificant details but none of the faces of those around him as he entered the room. Was it due to his memory problem, or were they knew? Well, it didn't matter. He was there now, looking around from person to person as he steps into the room, still taking drags from his smoke until finally there was nothing left but the filter and he found himself in the center of the room, at one of the tables.

Sitting down at said table William puts the stub of a cigarette out against the surface and lays it aside before resting his elbows on the table and his head in his hands, glancing around. Sometimes he would look at one of the others in the room and try to recall a name. Another glance would cast his gaze on the television and he would have to ask if he knew what they were talking about, if he had ever been to that place, knew any of the names mentioned.