#igya

Miles had gotten the day off work. He'd decided he deserved it, and he wanted to help Everlyne. She'd expressed some discomfort with the whole pregnancy-at-school thing and so he had decided that he'd have a day at home with her. He'd left his work alarm on, rolling out of bed and shutting it off quickly - Everlyne either slept through it or fell right back to sleep anyway - and made his way downstairs. Miles began by boiling the kettle and slipping a couple of slices of toast into the toaster. Before long he'd cooked up a whole breakfast and after adding bacon to the plates and got out a tray, carefully placing the plates down. He turned quickly and opened the cupboard, grabbing the little bottle of prenatal vitamins and taking one out, setting it down on the tray too. 

He felt heavy, his vision blurred and twitched in and out of a burning blue static. Information was lost on him, his location, his identity. He lifted a stone hand to stare at it in confusion as orientation flooded through him. Words reached in his ears and he struggled to process them.

Experiment. Response. 

"Conclusive. Every variable created a similar result in each simulation. There's no way to retrieve the solid technology. The synchronisation connection cannot be cut. The data has been retrieved however for further analysis and cleared from the synthetic database."

Blue. It wasn't a static but focused. Eyes, they looked to him from a recall and Harkness jolted in the confines, attached to the wires he had originally woke up from. Butch. Where was Butch? It was the only thought process that repeated over again as images of him slumping to the floor filled his mind, He couldn't speak. The familiar feeling of simulated nausea and disorientated filled him.