Logs:The Grapes of Wrath: Saving the Bacon

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"In 'unrelated' news, there are five people in the hospital here with an unknown illness, called OFIP11-2."

Gwyllgi, Morgaine
The library is always a good place to talk quietly about Consilium matters. Morag and Gwyllgi have since touched base about his research efforts, and so now they've come to the point where it's share-time. So Morag sits quietly at a table, leafing through a coffee book and trying not to be impatient as she waits for the Welshman.

Gwy did mention that he had made some progress, and he even shows up on time. Perfectly so. Just as unglamourous as always, the future 11th Question certainly has the ramshackle detective look down pat. "Morgainie." he greets with that wry smile as he deliberately invokes the wayward Anglesey boy. That's going to stick for a long time. Still, the smile that follows seems genuine enough. "Sut mae?" The question comes as he settles down into a seat opposite.

"Some day I'm going to fling tea at you for calling me that." smiles the Thyrsus wryly, and leans forward in her chair. "I'm well? Tell me how you are, and tell me what you found." She's eager, mainly because she wants this crazy meat quest over with.

"Someday, but not while I have information for you?" The reply is followed by a quiet laugh as he sets down his bag to the side, briefly glares at the phone and then pokes about in the memory mansion for what he did discover, "I'm doing alright. Getting settled in, finally." Elbows get propped on the edge of the table, "So. I did some poking as you asked, went through a ton of information at the paper; the Scotsman is doing a lot of the coverage up here along with the BBC. Seems like the first incident was a farm in Moffat on the border, early November. The pigs were all slaughtered and more information can be gotten from the Chief Vetinary Officer's desk if needed."

Morag doesn't take any visible notes, instead she's gazing at him intently, her lips parted and her hands resting on the table. Every now and then her fingers do a little tappety-tap, almost as if the note taking is being done directly into her brain. "Did you poke into the CVO, or is that my turn with the ball?"

"I didn't do any further investigating there. I figure they'll have done a report, but if there's anything suspicious it likely won't be on it. Postcog or Augury may be the way forward there." Gwy glances upwards, checking the mental notes. "The recalls are apparently to stop people from touching the meat and spreading it to livestock outside of the quarantine area and down south of the border. Although I'm not sure how that would happen, unless people are making gloves out of raw bacon and going to the petting zoo. Since the official line is that African Swine Flu only affects hogs, no human threat at all." There's a pause and a finger raising in objection, "However. In 'unrelated' news, there are five people in the hospital here with an unknown illness, called OFIP11-2, a strain under investigation by numerous people. They're all in quarantine at the moment."

Morag cocks her head at that. "I'll have to see what Agrivain got as well, and compile it with what you've told me. Did I follow you correctly - everyone who's investigated it is under quarantine?"

"No, no. The patients are being quarantined. So clearly they believe this infection to be contagious. Seems like coincidence that it just happens to pop up at the same time, isn't it?" Gwy lifts an eyebrow in query. "I'm sure the immunologists and doctors are taking precautions. Like in Outbreak, or something." Fingertips taptap together, "I think that's about it? Oh. All the local products which were recalled are being stored in a warehouse in Granton, then sent to West Lothian to be incinerated and I've got a location on that." From a pocket, he pulls out a slip of paper with a pair of addresses on it and slides it across the table. "Defra is manning the facility, 24 hours a day."

"Didn't people die in Outbreak? The ones fighting the plague?" Morag asks wryly. "I'm not sure what Niniane wants me to do with all of this information beyond compile it."

"I don't know. But if Dustin Hoffman shows up to help fight the bacon shortage, I'll be quite happy." Gwy counters with a lopsided smile as he leans back. "No doubt she wants you to get to the bottom of it. Checking on the hospital for information on the patients might be a good start. Find a way to get into the warehouse and obtain a sample of the meat for scrutiny. Contacting the CVO's office for a copy of the report, another avenue. I'm not sure if I'm capable enough to review time at site zero that specifically, since there's no real specific moment to look at." Yes, the Guardian admits his failings, and winces just slightly. It takes some effort.

Morag shakes her head. "I suppose that's a place to start. Aside from reporting the facts, I don't know what more she wants me to do with this." Her chin lifts. "I'll figure it out.

"Well, Morgaine. You know I like to collect favours, so if you need me to do more specific poking or want a partner in crime for your exploits, you have my number." Gwyllgi responds, leaning back now that all is said and done. "Maybe check with her and find out? Or at least report to show you're making progress. She might have further information to give you."

Morag's expression turns wry. "I'm bitching too much, aren't I. Yes, I admit you are a rather excellent partner in crime. We can argue sometime over which of is Sherlock and which of us is Watson. Did you have anything immediately off-hand you wanted my help with?"

"It's allowed. Helps me learn the foibles of your high ups without actually having to deal with them myself." Gwyllgi grins, not seeming to mind the whining, even though he's countering it by trying to keep her on track. "I'm totally Sherlock, though. Since I've done all the work so far." That's a tease, rather than a complaint. "Nothing right now; my dictates from on high are all well in hand so far."

"Have you been getting dictates from your higher ups?" she asks with interest and then oh's, "You wouldn't tell me if you did, would you? Just as well. What are your plans for Hogmanay, by the way? I was thinking maybe a few of us 'youngers' should get together and carouse for it. Would you come?"

"I would tell you, but then unfortunately I'd have to kill you. In good old fashioned cliche'd style. Then I'd get in trouble, and there'd be trials and hearings and all sorts of mess and it would be a poor start to this whole affair, don't you think?" Gwyllgi goes for the serious voice while his eyes do the laughing. "Uh, to be honest I hadn't even considered it. Not really all that familiar. So I guess you could talk me into something. I don't get to do enough carousing these days; what's it even involve?"

"Fire and drinking and singing and drinking and fire and drinking." she says promptly. Yes, in that order.

"So long as this doesn't involve a game of 'Set the Guardian on fire'. I've never been fond of that one. Plus you'll have to put up with my attrocious singing voice. But given those things, I reackon we can have a go of it." Gwyllgi appears to be grateful about being invited.

"Of course, Gwy. Especially since you're doing me such favors. Well, not exactly favors, since I'm owing you." She grins, "But just the same, you've been a great help."

"They're favours until you pay up, anyhow. That could be years. Or never." Amused, Gwy lifts a shoulder. "I do what I can. If someone is poisoning the livestock on purpose and attempting to start a massive infectious disease while also destablizing the economy, then it's kind of a big deal."

"Kind of." she agrees. "I'll have to wait and see what Agrivain brings me and see if I can make some determinations based on both points of information...I mean, this can't have been an accident, do you think?"

"I'll poke around some more in the interim, I can do an Augury and see if it will be determined that the infection was intentional, perhaps also ask if it will spread to humans and prove to be fatal." Gwyllgi quiets for a moment, considering the requirements for sympathies. "Having done all this research, I don't think it will be a huge problem."

"If Time were my forte, I'd offer assistance, but Fate is more my speed." Morag admits. "Let me know if there is something I can do for you, Supernally speaking, though."

"Since you've had the virus, that's a good help in making things relevant. Should be able to get something out of it." Mastigos aren't well known for their Time knowledge, but this one seems confident enough. "Give me a moment to frame some questions up, then I'll give it a whack." Gwy offers a broad smile. Confident. "Let's have a gander."

Morag watches Gwy curiously, and finds herself wanting to try to recall his High Speech as well - who knows, someday she may want to explore Time herself. But for the present she waits to see, her expression earnest. "Anything?"

Bringing together the imagio, Gwyllgi spells out the first casting, to read the future of his future reading. There's a flicker of concentration, eyes closing to absorb the details and mentally improve the conception of the second spell. The High Speech calls out along the timelines , asking the question aloud for Morag's benefit, "Will the Consilium or Government investigation determine that the virus outbreak that was first uncovered at the Moffat farm was spread or implanted there intentionally?"

There's a look on his face, as though intrigued as he absorbs the prophecy, "There are investigators, caught in a mire-soaked field. A barn is open but has been gutted out. People are huddled together, faces in their hands as though distraught." His expression changes, nauseated all of a sudden. "Paperwork takes up the vision." This part seems to make him feel physically sick, "A single word. Ruin."

It's never as simple as yes or no. "Gwyllgi," she says softly, "Are you alright?" The details of the prophecy, or at least, the prophetic images, are noted and stored away in her mind, for access and analysis later. "Can you recall details about the field, or the barn?"

"Yeah." Blinking a few times, Gwyllgi nods, "Yeah. I'm alright. Just..." His mouth opens, tongue moving around as though to expel some foul taste. "Yeah. That was a little intense." Unusually so, given the reaction. "No real details. Just generic barn. Field was all mucky, but that's about it. Given the question though, I reackon that seems like a yes. Implied, anyhow. Don't you think?"

"I do." she agrees. "Do you remember anything like the color of the barn? Sometimes little, innocuous details can help." She frowns. "So much is riding on what Agrivain brings me. It may fill in the holes, and then I - we?" she looks at him tentatively, "Can get something done."

"With an Augury, the little things are less important. It's more a way of answering the question posed. Sadly, I'm not up to the more impressive feats quite yet, but give it time." Gwyllgi smiles faintly at his little pun, while realizing that time is perhaps something that is lacking. The prophecy has surely imparted upon him the seriousness of the issue however and he nods at the tenative look, mustering up a more reassuring look. "We'll get to the bottom of it, yeah."

Morag grins broadly. "My hero." she declares him. "Until we get Agrivain to fill in the blanks, I can get my hands on that vetrinary report. Do you think it would be worth trying to get into that hospital at all?"

"I could try having a look there. The quarantine is likely tightly enforced, but that shouldn't be too much of a problem." Not for a Mastigos, anyway. "Maybe if I sit in the waiting room I can poke about and try to listen in on the doctors or review the charts and see what's what. Something to get on with until we know more, anyway." He offers a grin, "This means you're buying my drinks for Hogmany though."

She holds up a hand. "If we can get into the hospital, it might be better if I do it. I know I can purge my own system, but I can't cure you. I'm not that powerful yet." She grins. "I'll buy a few rounds sure, but I'm not made of money, you know. Try shaking me sometime, you'll see."

"Well, I'm not planning on going into the dangerous bit. Just scry from a comfortable nearby location. Whatever works though, it's your little test after all. They don't go by halfs in your Order, do they?" Gwyllgi laughs and gives her a look, "Naked dancing, and now you're suggesting I give you a shake. I swear, you're not half as lady like as I'd imagined."

Morag cocks her head. "I'm not sure what you consider the parameters for lady-like to be." she says with a slow smile. "You've never seen me in a ritual. Maybe that's the difference."

"True enough, I can only imagine. Lady-like is very overrated, I think." Reaching down, Gwyllgi grabs up his bag and again briefly checks his phone. "Right, I should probably get going. Keep me posted though, and we'll come up with a plan or something." A smile smile is offered across as he stands, "Always a pleasure, Morgainie."

"I think that the problem is only that you haven't met the woman you want to treat like a lady yet." she counters, and with a laugh, shakes her fist at him at the Morgainie. "I'll text you with the details for Hogmanay, right?"

"I think that kind of thing is against our secret code, we leave chivalry to the other orders while languishing with the peasants and doing the dirty work." A finger hits his temple in a lazy sort of salute or wave, "Right you are then, darlin'. Have a good one; good luck dealing with your 'boss'." A final smile before a, "T'ra." and then he's heading for the door.

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