They're coming to take me away, ha-ha...

[Brian]

When you come to your senses, you're lying on a bed in a brightly lit room.  It's empty at the moment, and your bed appears to be the standard frame-and-mattress variety, and you've been dressed in a white jumpsuit.

There are no windows, but there is a door to a hallway, and you can hear people chattering outside.  A chart of the wall shows a picture of a kitten hanging onto a tree branch, but there are no clocks or calendars.  There's only one bed in the room, and its otherwise empty.  You are not bound, and while your body responds sluggishly at first, you don't feel any pain or lingering effects from the tazer.

[Bjorn]

Shaking his head groggily, Bjorn struggles to his feet.  After doing a few stretches to loosen his body up, he scans the room to make sure there's nothing else (clothing, etc.) that he might have missed, and then goes over to test the doorknob.

[Brian]

The door isn't even latched.  None of your personal belongings are in view, and you can see what looks like sunlight outside through the crack in the doorway.  You can distantly hear the murmur of wind through tree-branches, and the sound of running water.  You can also see a small doorway that leads to a bathroom, previously hidden behind a curtain.

[Bjorn]

Bjorn pauses, and goes to use the littlest room first.  "Never turn down a chance to piss or sleep" is the current Motto of the Minute (TM).

Assuming there are no incredible surprises lurking in the washbasin, he then heads out the door to find what he can find.

[Brian]

There is, in fact, a minor surprise in the washroom.  Given the austere, almost 'hospital' ambiance, you didn't expect it to contain a shower, or real cloth towels.  But it has both.

After washing up, you open the door and head outside.  Your door opens onto a concrete walkway with an raised rain-guard covering it.  You think it's a raingaurd instead of for snow, because it's just not cold enough to cover snow here.  When your eyes adjust more fully to the brightness, you can see that your door is one of several in a concrete, bunker-like building.  However, from here you can look up, and see that there is no sky.  Instead, it's a lighting rig suspended from a concrete ceiling.  The sunlight is artificial (but reasonably convincing), and the walkway adds to the effect.  A soft breeze is blowing through, ruffling some hedges that line the corridor.

To your left, it goes about fifty meters and ten doors down before it terminates in a large security door with wire-mesh reinforced glass windows, and red tape outlining it.  There's no sign of anyone there, but there is a buletin in black and yellow on the door.  You can't make it out from here.

To your right, the corridor goes another thirty meters (and three doors down) before opening up into a more brightly lit area.  Most of the sound is coming from this direction, and you hear soft laughter, and indistinct murmured conversations.

[Bjorn]

Before heading over towards the conversation (since, one way or the other, this will probably entail a curtailment of liberties), Bjorn heads over to read the sign.

Looks a lot like what Jessica was describing... sure as hell hopes that means I got rescued.

[Brian]

The sign reads: "This door for Workshop staff only.  No guest entry permited."

[Bjorn]

"Well," Bjorn says out loud to no-one, "now I really hope I got rescued, because otherwise their welcome wagon needs an overhaul."

Snide witticism uttered and (as a result) a feeling of some situational control regained, Bjorn heads off to the voices -- if moving a bit slowly.

[Brian]

The corridor opens up into a wide area, probably the size of a football field.  There's a fountain in the center, and you can see a number of other corridors leading off in other directions.  Your (looking back) has the arch of a rainbow painted over the top.  The five others have flowers, a river, cavorting cartoon animals, balloons, and leafy green vines.

The ceiling of this room is about 50 meters up, and there's a lighting rig hanging from it providing a reasonable enough aproximating of sunlight to allow the hedges and two small trees to grow.  The fountain also has a stream running the length of the room into another pool, where it apparently drains away.  Wide cement bridges cross over it every few meters.

There's also scattered collections of tables across the room, with other people dressed similarly to you -- save most of the others are wearing nametags.  Looking up, you can see a walkway surrounding the interior of the room, about twenty meters up.  Guards in black S.W.A.T. gear patrol it -- it looks like there are four of them, right now.

The room is oblong, somewhat like an oval, with three coridors at either end.  In the center of the room, on either side, is a set of double-doors, one of which bears a familiar looking bulletin, and the other which is marked 'cafeteria' in bright, playful letters.  The murals around that door show smiling children and picnic baskets.

Most of the people you see on the cement floor with you are not at the tables, but wandering around and talking to eachother quietly, though the murmur of their discussion carries.

Nearest to you is a little girl, perhaps eight years old, sitting on the ground with her back to you, and playing with a small plastic bin full of glass shards.  An older woman, appearing in her early thirties sits on a cement bridge nearby, feet dangling in the river, and eyes you curiously.

[Bjorn]

Ignoring the child for the moment (since they make him uncomfortable, nasty little proto-humans, yes, they tookses it away from us!), Bjorn heads carefully over to the river and squats on his haunches by the base of the bridge, looking at the woman.  "Hi," he ventures.

[Brian]

She's got shoulder-length brown hair, and green eyes.  She's dressed in the same unflattering style of jumpsuit you are.  "Hello," she says quietly.  "You're new, aren't you?  My name is Megan."

[Bjorn]

Bjorn chews on his tongue thoughtfully.  "I'm Bjorn, and yeah, I'm new.  I think I already know the answer, but... could you tell me where we are?"

[Brian]

"This is the Workshop," she says with a shrug.  "How many years did you make it before they got you?"

[Bjorn]

Bjorn closes his eyes and exhales, long and silently.  "Thirty-one years," he says, with a hint of black humour.  "Though I'm not sure what they got me for... or rather, I know what they think they got me for, but I don't know that they're right, if that makes sense."

He blinks, and then focusses on the woman.  "What about yourself?" he asks, sympathetically.

[Brian]

She eyes you speculatively, then frowns.  "I was born in 1923," she says offhandedly.  "I never really thought much about it until it was the sixties, and I had realized that I didn't age as quickly as anyone else ... I suppose there was a reason I was orphaned.  I'd say I managed a good seventy five years before they took me down."  She smiles a little.  "Though, they didn't get me without a fight."

The little girl rises unsteadily, and trundles over, cupping something in her hands, and offering it to Megan.  "Oh?" Megan says, plucking a small glass figurine from the girl's hands.  She holds it up for a moment, then offers it to you, while the little girl hides behind Megan, and peeks at you over her shoulder.

It's incredibly detailed -- looks like a little model of you, in armor and carrying a razor-sharp sword, though the style is European, not samurai.