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Something I Don't Know

It isn't fear. My life, such as it is, has never been one based on worry. Like so many people, my life is my job. It's a bit unorthodox, yes, but it is still a task to which I was entrusted.

I'm not sure if there's a word for it. I think confusion is probably the closest thing that I can think of, but that isn't quite it either. To be completely honest, I'm amazed that I'm coherent enough to write down anything that makes sense. These past few days have been a blur. I don't understand much anymore, and it feels like a kind of dizzying fog. When your knowledge is gone, you're nothing in this place, and that was what I had to offer.

Maybe I was afraid. I'm not ashamed to admit it, the feeling is just so new. By new I mean in the raw sense, where every exposure to the new sensation is nothing short of a blinding pain.

I don't want to sound dramatic, and if I am, I apologize to anyone who may be reading. The truth is that my anchor is gone. For all that he was, both blessed and cursed, Jacob was my link to understanding anything in this godforsaken world. He made me who I am and gave me what I know of the world. I waited so long for him to come back and finish telling me what he started. For years I waited, decades.  Nothing.

And now he's gone. My existence was spent waiting for nothing to happen. It didn't have to be this way. He could have trusted me more than he did. I was always the one at the ready for him and his candidates. In return I didn't ask for glory. What I asked for was death, a relief from this life when it was all over. I didn't get that either.

I don't know who I'm more angry toward: Jacob or the men responsible for his death. For now I know very few things, one of which being that I'm too exhausted to give much effort toward emotions. I'll do things I don't understand, going through the motions like an emperor who knows he has no clothes.

Today I helped Benjamin Linus set up camp. I think we both pretended it was just as before. It was easier for both of us that way.

And what he saw there

Prompt: Visions

Richard holds his mug with both hands, hovering his face just inches above the contents. As he dips his head his nose drops even closer to the tea made just a few minutes prior. Steam is barely visible as it rises in uneven, curved lines and gently laps against his face. It's a bit indulgent really. He knows that tea is not a necessity, which is why he takes the time to savor it. It is no longer winter in the United States, but then again, this is California. Hot tea is hardly on the forefront of the populace's mind.

Richard always liked being different.

He crosses the floor of his hotel room, feet hardly making a sound as they drop slowly and methodically onto the carpet. After lowering himself in the recliner which sits discreetly in a shadowed corner, he sets aside the tea on a nearby table to allow it to cool. He crosses his legs and stretches an arm to the nearby lamp. After flicking a switch the bulb below the shade flickers on and illuminates a one foot radius with a dull glow. He enjoys the relative darkness. It is calming and helps him think as he folds his hands in his lap and leans his head back, waiting for the tea to be suitable to drink.

The objective which he had left the Island for had not taken long. In fact, the preparation and research was much more time consuming that the actual task, which seemed to be the case for anything worthwhile these days. One look through the window of the hospital room was enough. What he was told had been confirmed with a single glance and he left as swiftly as he'd come, wingtipped heels clicking against the tile, contrasting the soundless way he was accustomed to moving. It wasn't enough to call attention to himself, but the satisfyingly muted echo let him know that he'd left his mark.

Judging by the lack of steam rising from the mug, Richard assumed that he could now take the cup in both hands again. After doing so his lips quirked upward in a vague smile. May 30, 1956. Of course he remembered birthdays.

Concerning juice, orange specifically

Which brand do you prefer?

Minute Maid
0(0.0%)
Tropicana
4(50.0%)
Florida's Natural
1(12.5%)
Other (if so, please state)
2(25.0%)
Please note that Hawaiian Punch and Sunny Delight do not count as juice.

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ooc: Not exactly sure where in either character's timeline that this fits but it was fun to write!

Richard wrinkled his nose as he pressed his hand to the glass door which lead to the inside of a convenience store. When he had the chance to leave the Island, he preferred to visit places which were either familiar or comfortable. This place was neither. The floor was sticky underfoot and the air smelled like hot dogs which had been rolling on the metal grill for far too long. He had opened the door to allow his present company inside and Elle Bishop had walked briskly to the Slush-o machine, giving Richard little time to form a mental layout of the small building.

The blonde wasted no time in grabbing a large paper cup and setting it underneath a nozzle. Hands which were obviously used to this movement pushed up on a lever, releasing the frozen liquid into its container. She then covered the cup with a rounded lid, grabbing a paper covered straw, unwrapping it and slipping it through the opening. With a bright smile she turned to face Richard, pulling out another large cup from where it was stored.

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Richard had always been adept at changing his demeanor to suit a situation. Today was one of the days he would have to work to put his skills to use. He was given the task of infiltrating the Dharma Initiative, the ones who called and and his people the Hostiles. How little they knew.

The last time he contacted one from the Initiative, it was young Mr. Linus whom he was certain he would get to know better at a latter date. On the day Richard met Linus, the older man had a rather dirty and haggard appearance. As he combed back his presently much shorter hair, Richard wrinkled his nose as he remembered the dirty, ill fitting clothes. How uncivilized.

Today he was clad in the khaki colored Dharma jumpsuit. Tugging a bit at the zipper Richard looked down at his name badge. Today he would be "Sicarios, Gabriel", a cook. At least they weren't trying to fool anyone by pretending that their food was gourmet.

Exiting his place of residence, Richard walked until he found a group of people dressed in similar clothing, all milling about aimlessly. He quickly did the same, as it wasn't difficult to fall into line with a number of confused people. Dharma liked to assume a friendly air. Someone would be there to greet him soon enough.

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Write a letter to yourself as a child

Richard,

Throughout your lifetime you will see and hear a great many things which will undoubtedly fill your senses with wonder. Never let anything real or imagined take that away. You will come to value an open mind, cultivating one for yourself and helping others see that there is more to life than what immediately lays before them. The best possibilities are never those that lay within the narrow road. Take the path less traveled, but do not take it for the sake of being unique. That is not your objective. Your purpose in life is to fade into the background, and you are absolutely fine with that. Your name is not one to be remembered. You will not be famous, but it is you who will set a chain of events in motion which will effect many and generations to come.

Gather information, acquire knowledge, let that mind of yours pour over education you can find in all sources conventional and unconventional. Don’t be afraid to experiment. Look at nature. Examine the wings of a moth and the leaves of a tree. See how one tiny part can influence and shape a whole. Notice the details, yet always keep in mind the big picture. Never keep yourself limited to the short term. You are smarter than that. Your life is a game already filled with high stakes. Don’t be afraid to sacrifice a few pawns in order to protect your king, though there will be times when you must call checkmate to clear the board and start anew. Fresh starts are a natural part of life, and while they may be new for another, you will remember your previous experiences.

Lastly, while keeping your mind open, you must regard much with skepticism, starting with this letter. Question what I’ve said. Or don’t. For all you know, I’m a liar. That much I will confess to you. I am a liar who crafts a story so effortlessly that manipulation has become mere habit rather than skill. I do have an agenda. It’s your job to find out what that is, and in time you will. For now though, you will fold this letter into your pocket and not tell a soul about it. I trust you will do as much. You were always quite adept at knowing which orders to follow. I wish you the best of luck in the future.

Namaste,
A party vested in your best interest