CLICK.
Hiss of blank tape.
"Today's date is Sunday, January 2, 2000. The time is approximately 0315 hours. This is Detective Sonya Barkston of the SFPD, star number 5523. This is an investigation into a series of disturbances which took place between December 30 and December 31, 1999, and again this morning. Present being interviewed is a Dr. John Bowman. With me is Detective Michael Grey, star number 2364.
Sounds of pacing feet and muttering.
"Dr. Bowman, would you please have a seat. Thank you. I'll be tape-recording your statements as you can see. Do you have any objections?
"How do you do -- Detective Barkston? You may call me Dr. Bowman, but mostly I go by the Doctor. And no, I have no objections.
"Uh huh. Dr. er ... Bowman ..."
"Just, the Doctor."
"Er, 'Doctor,' do you understand this is an informal inquiry, that you have not yet been charged with any crime at this time and that you may choose to terminate this interview at any time?
"Yes, yes, yes. I'm sure all this is just a misunderstanding."
"Is John Bowman your real name, "Doctor"?
"Actually my given name is rather unpronounceable."
"Really? Where are you from?"
"I'm from -- France."
"France?"
A voice mutters in the background.
"What did you say Det. Grey? Oscar Wilde's attire was much more flamboyant than mine, though I'm not sure what that has to do with France ..."
Long pause.
"Um, Dr. Bowman? Doctor?"
"Yes ... excuse me? Is something wrong?"
"Are you a medical doctor?
"Well no, I don't think I originally studied medicine, although I've picked up quite a bit over the years. I think."
"You think?"
"I'm more of doctor of the universe, you might say, though I can't tell you just how right now. My memory is still a bit spotty I'm afraid."
"I see. Is there a reason for your memory problem?"
Well, yes Detective. I went to hospital for a -- misfortune I suffered. I fear certain drugs I received clouded my mind, if you will."
"And you were admitted as John Smith?"
"That's correct."
"According to hospital records that night, there was only one admission under the name of John Smith: a middle-aged man who died from cardiac complications on the operating table. He was admitted by an unknown Asian teen who apparently took off after learning of the man's death. Suspicions are that this youth might have been involved in the gangland shootout possibly over drugs that caused John Smith to be shot in the first place. His description fits one of an Asian youth who was subsequently seen in your company. Would you happen to know anything about this, 'Doctor'?"
"No, I don't. If I had known that would happen, I wouldn't be here in the first place."
Pause. Sound of a snort.
"Witnesses also report you were spotted in the company of a tall, slender, red-headed caucasian female on several occasions. Her description also fits one Dr. Grace Holloway, the cardiologist in the John Smith case. The same Dr. Grace Holloway, whose house you were reported attempting to break into this morning."
"Now Detective, I certainly wasn't attempting to burgle her house. Your primitive locks not very good, I must say. I merely intended to wait for her return. I didn't know she'd departed for parts unknown; otherwise I would have come back before she left or arrived after she came back."
Long pause with low whispering.
"Det. Grey, I'll have you know that I always make perfect sense. Did you ever learn that it's rude to whisper?"
"Doctor, let's cut to the chase, shall we? How long have you been associated with Dr. Holloway and this possible gangbanger?"
"We first 'associated' the night I was in hospital, on December 30th."
"Are you telling me you'd never met them before?"
"No, not in this timeline. Det. Grey, you really must break that habit of rolling your eyes. It's terribly unbecoming ..."
"Doctor, how is it that three people fitting your exact descriptions happen to be somehow connected to a gangland shooting in Chinatown, the disappearance of a body from a morgue; the theft of a police officer's motorcycle, a high speed ambulance-motorcycle chase causing a 35 car pile-up on the freeway, and a near panic during the New Year Eve's festivities at the Institute?"
"Synchronicity?"
"Doctor ..."
"Detective Barkston, I truly apologize for all the confusion. I know it may seem unusual to you, but Grace and Lee were only assisting me. They really have no blame in all this. They were only pawns in a nefarious scheme."
"A cardiologist?"
"Well, Grace has a lovely bedside manner ..."
"So you admit to illicit activities? Was it part of a drug deal gone awry? It would be best if you simply came clean."
Loud sigh.
"Detective, I know you really won't believe me, but since you insist on the truth, I'll tell you. My companions were helping me to foil a old enemy who was bent on something far more sinister than any drug deal."
"And what was that?"
"The Master wanted to take my body. If we did not stop him by midnight, the world would have turned inside out."
Loud bark of laughter followed by sounds of a chair pushing back, footsteps, and the slamming of a door.
"Rather loud echo in here, don't you think? I understand some type of wall hanging could soften the effect in such a small sterile room like this. Maybe an objet d'arte by Maya Cecelie? Oh wait, she won't be famous yet. Hmmm ..."
Pause followed by an audible expulsion of breath.
"For the record, Detective Grey has left the room." Pause. "This has gone far enough. I don't know whether you're attempting to cop some sort of insanity plea, but you should know this: These are pretty serious charges you could be looking at. You even threatened a police officer with his own gun."
"Actually Detective, I threatened myself with the gun ..."
"And last, but not least, you propositioned Det. Grey by baring your chest and asking him to feel it."
"I was only trying to circumvent this whole process by showing him that I'm not like you! Here, let me show you ..."
Sounds of a chair being pushed back quickly followed by another falling over.
"Stand back or I'll ... !!
Sound of a momentary scuffle, followed by longer pause and an audible gasp.
"Do you feel that? Now, here. Do it again. Yes, here. Do you see? That's right. Two hearts. I'm really not like you, my dear detective."
Very long pause and slightly heavy breathing. Eventually the sound of heels clicking on the floor and a door opening.
"Sargeant! Please escort this -- person -- out. I've no further questions. He's free to go."
"Well, goodbye Det. Barkston. I must stay you're looking a bit piqued. Maybe you should take a holiday ..."
Sounds of footsteps followed by a door closing. Low inaudible muttering.
"...didn't happen... holiday... un-frigging-believeable ..."
CLICK
Hiss of blank tape.