Vytal Information: A Reader Marooned in Remnant

Readjusting To Newness

Your eyes flick open after a beeping sound coming from the front pocket of your uniform. You pull out the white and gold rectangle you've seen around, and assumed was only a student card to access areas that aren't open to the public. You stare at it for a second, trying to figure out how to turn off the beeping. Alreic sits up and asks if you're going to answer the call. You follow his gestured instructions, the rectangle sliding open to reveal a glass screen with a picture of the headmaster -how'd I know that?- and beneath his name, "Ozpin." You click the accept button, bringing it to your ear to hear what he has to say.

"Good morning to you, [Y/N]," his practised, pruned voice conveys, "would you mind coming down to my office for a little bit? I have a few things I'd like to hear from you."

"Of course, Professor Ozpin. I'll be over in just a few minutes."

"Great, see you then."

You click the hang-up button and slide the device closed. As you quickly check your appearance and olfactory presence, a thought jumps out of your mind: "scroll". You stop for a moment, pull the device you just used out of your pocket and loose a short, small laugh. So that's what that's called! You redirect your view back to the mirror. Your uniform looks alright, save for a few patches of wrinkles. You brush them flat with the palms of your hands. A cursory sniff informs you of a need for some smell-assisting liquid, remedied by a cubic bottle that smells of earth, wood and a bit of citrus. You brush your hair and teeth, leaving the dorm room and jogging towards the massive clock tower in the center of campus.

As you speed towards the elevator in the bottom of the tower, you listen to the overlapping sounds of people placing and engaging in calls across all of the world, to just about every big nation that contains the CCT connection. Why do I know that abbreviation? Oh, right, it's on the wall and entryway, duh. The faces projected on the screens remind you of the video calls in the world you came from, but any more information slips through your fingers. You press the button for the top floor, the doors sliding closed and your stomach dropping from the upward momentum. After the display above the door goes through all the numbers, it slows and the doors open again. You step out into the room there, just beyond a large door, noticing the turning gears above your head that cast ominous shadows on the floor. Next, your eyes are drawn to the clock face that serves as a window pane. So that's what's behind the clock! It isn't a clock, but a window! So then, this isn't a clock tower, it's a municipal building and communications facility. Weird.

In the center of the room, a boomerang-shaped desk composed of similar gears to the ones overhead seats a middle-aged man in a geared chair. He must be the one who called you.

"What's up, Ozpin on his Oz-topus seat?" You greet.

"'What's up' is the ceiling, [Y/N]," he barely moves in responding, but shifts in his chair to look at it from your perspective. "Hm. Clever." He returns to facing you, "please come up and sit before me so we can discuss."

"Discuss what?" You inquire, approaching and placing your rear on the cushioned chair.

"Your teammates have brought it to my attention that you have been acting differently than normal. Something about forgetting their names and being reminded. And another thing about being really quiet when in the past you have been more loquacious. Any reason that these things would be happening -and remember, I'm here to help and want to see you succeed."

"Is it so weird that sometimes someone could be lost in thought?"

"Not too weird, but if they have a reason to be concerned then I should investigate, no?"

"I'd assume so, Professor."

"If it isn't wrong of me to do this, then can you be so kind as to speak your story? Keep in mind, I can tell when you're lying," he emphasizes the point by leaning forward to rest his chin on his clasped hands, balanced at the elbows on the desk.