((Samuel Rosen continued from Teenage Lobotomy))
((Mild GMing approved by Brackie))
Sam grimaced as his eyes travelled along the walls toward the depressingly small windows high above his head. The smell of this place was better than the dump, but just barely. Even if the building had been defensible, it would have been difficult to imagine staying here much longer, but as it stood the place was basically useless. Too many entrances, and no easy way to shoot out the windows meant that any defense there would be doomed before it even began. With that in mind, it would be best not to waste too much time resting and just get the explanations out of the way.
He turned to Oliver, trying his best to mask the impatience in his voice as he began to go over the details of the plan that he had been mulling over on the way over here. The two of them had discussed the possibility of rescue on the way over, but if they wanted to get out of here alive, he had to make sure they were on the same page with what to do next.
“Alright, so… If we want to live until the cavalry arrives, we’re going to need to be able to fortify some sort of defensive position. So, uh, we gotta find a place to hole up, but even when we find it, we’re not gonna be able to defend it ourselves. We need to find a few other kids who aren’t friggin' nazi collaborators, preferably ones with guns to help cover the windows from any attack.”
Sam paused for a moment to catch his breath, resuming talking in his characteristic style of not giving his conversation partner the chance to interrupt him.
“I figure that once we get maybe 4-6 people, with a decent number of guns between them, we should be set. If things go really well for us, we can light a few signal fires to get the attention of any British or European aircraft, though, they should probably be able to find us regardless. They’ve done it before, after all.”
Hopefully, he hadn’t explained things too poorly. He sighed as he adjusted the straps on his bag, waiting for his conversation partner’s response. Oliver had been pretty agreeable so far, and with any luck, that trend would continue.
Or at least, he hoped it would. A brief flash of jealousy made its way through Sam’s mind, one that he quickly made an effort to force down. Still, the frustration remained. If only he had been the one with the gun instead of Oliver, he wouldn’t even have to worry so much about compliance. The fact that Oliver had a pistol, and he didn’t, gave the other boy a considerable amount of leverage over him. Obviously, he wasn’t in immediate danger, but as long as he was relatively unarmed, he was always one argument away from his entire plan crashing around his ears.
Sam took a deep breath. It was no benefit to anyone if he were to get upset now. For the near future, he just have to accept the fact that in this duo, he’d have to be the brains, and Oliver would have to be the brawn. In the long term, however, he’d need to look in on getting his hands on a firearm of his own.
Purely for the purpose of self defense, of course.
You Need Hands
((Oliver Davies continued from Teenage Lobotomy))
Next to Samuel, Oliver felt like a limp dick.
The entire ordeal was still trying to process its way through the checkpoints of Oliver's mind when Sam began spouting off about plans and planes and the military and fortification and exactly how they were going to survive this. There was a glint of Oliver deciding whether or not he should do what the military said, of course, but it was gone now, forever. He had no intention of killing everyone here then escaping, and he didn't think he ever would; for one thing Ellie would never speak to him again, for another there was no guarentee he'd ever go home, considering the fact that their captors were Americans and all Americans were lying world traitors with no reason to actually tell them anything but the fattest of porkies.
So Oliver's attention returned to Samuel, the pretentious prick who was now his best asset, besides the cannon in his canvas bag, and the fishy factory they were standing in.
"Sounds good, I guess."
It did sound like a good thing to do. Grab other kids, friends if they were around, hole up in a building, hope the military came.
But Oliver still had something to ask.
"So, uh, one question though - what happens if the Americans don't let us light those fires?"
On their way to the factory, Oliver noticed they weren't exactly in the hall of the mountain king - they could hear ocean on one side, and...what was it, jungle on the other? It sounded like something Oliver'd heard in a game before, so it might have been. It wasn't like the Americans had given their classmates complete advantage over an entire military force.
"Like, snipers or something? Like, around the buildings or whatever, or out in boats? Or what if they just call a plane in and drop a missle on us for breaking the rules? Or even just...I dunno, if they don't like us holeing up anywhere for too long?"
He didn't want to be a completely mopey wanker, but if Sam's plan came to part, they'd be contending with the military might of an entire country, with not but a cane and a big gun between them. Again, Oliver had been making these kinds of arguments online for the good part of the past few years, and he knew just as well as anyone what happened to the faceless men sitting at the end of the barrel of America's might.
Next to Samuel, Oliver felt like a limp dick.
The entire ordeal was still trying to process its way through the checkpoints of Oliver's mind when Sam began spouting off about plans and planes and the military and fortification and exactly how they were going to survive this. There was a glint of Oliver deciding whether or not he should do what the military said, of course, but it was gone now, forever. He had no intention of killing everyone here then escaping, and he didn't think he ever would; for one thing Ellie would never speak to him again, for another there was no guarentee he'd ever go home, considering the fact that their captors were Americans and all Americans were lying world traitors with no reason to actually tell them anything but the fattest of porkies.
So Oliver's attention returned to Samuel, the pretentious prick who was now his best asset, besides the cannon in his canvas bag, and the fishy factory they were standing in.
"Sounds good, I guess."
It did sound like a good thing to do. Grab other kids, friends if they were around, hole up in a building, hope the military came.
But Oliver still had something to ask.
"So, uh, one question though - what happens if the Americans don't let us light those fires?"
On their way to the factory, Oliver noticed they weren't exactly in the hall of the mountain king - they could hear ocean on one side, and...what was it, jungle on the other? It sounded like something Oliver'd heard in a game before, so it might have been. It wasn't like the Americans had given their classmates complete advantage over an entire military force.
"Like, snipers or something? Like, around the buildings or whatever, or out in boats? Or what if they just call a plane in and drop a missle on us for breaking the rules? Or even just...I dunno, if they don't like us holeing up anywhere for too long?"
He didn't want to be a completely mopey wanker, but if Sam's plan came to part, they'd be contending with the military might of an entire country, with not but a cane and a big gun between them. Again, Oliver had been making these kinds of arguments online for the good part of the past few years, and he knew just as well as anyone what happened to the faceless men sitting at the end of the barrel of America's might.
Sam furrowed his brow as the objections came raining in. Honestly, the signal fires weren’t even that important; he had just thrown them in to pad out his argument, to make it sound better. Regardless, he had to admit the truth. Iit would be extremely difficult to pull off, with the potential risks outweighing the rewards.
However, he could push that part of the plan easily to the side easily, as in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t that important. Better yet, taking a suggestion from Oliver on the issue would give provide some valuable credibility as a leader. It’d be much easier for the other guy to put some trust in the plan if he felt like some input in his creation.
That last line though...that couldn’t stand. Sam put a hand to his face for a moment, wiping the sweat from his brow before looking back at the boy standing next to him. The fact that he had even gone on to ask that part of the question revealed a severe lack of foresight. Still, he couldn’t just call the guy an idiot. He had to be a least a little sensitive and pretend that he cared about his concerns. Oliver was too useful at the moment to risk alienating, at least for now.
He sighed, before responding in a tired voice, trying to his best not to betray the frustration he was feeling.
“Alright, I’ve give you the signal fires thing. We can cross that bridge when we get there, but realistically, there’s a pretty good chance they’ll find us anyway. The fact that we’ve been taken in the first place is a massive slap in the face to our government, and it’s obvious that getting us back is going to be their top priority right now. If the Americans are to be believed, Britain is already aware of this sick game they’ve been doing and have interfered with it in the past, which likely gives them a lot of leads to begin with.”
Sam paused to breathe, his mouth intensely dry from all this talking. Having to explain all these little details was exhausting. It would be a massive pain in the ass if he had to do this for every person that he met… Anyway, on with the Q&A.
“Secondly, yes, I’m aware that they could kill us at any time if we attempt to disobey them. However, ethics aside, obedience is not guarantee of safety either. Even if they’re telling the truth about letting the final survivor go back home, you think jolly old England’s going to take them back and let them go home just like that? Nazi collaborators got the death penalty after surviving WW2, and I don’t think the state’s just going to forgive any of us for becoming mass murderers at the behest of a regime that’s just as bad, if not worse."
"The way I see it, the choice we have is not between safety and death, but between possible death and certain death. All things considered, I’d rather choose the path that at least gives me a chance of survival. Unless you have any better ideas?”
Having said his piece, Sam stuck a hand in his bag, fumbling around until his fingers closed around a bottle of water. He pulled it out, clumsily attempting to take the cap off and take a drink while still keeping an eye on the guy in front of him. Not exactly the most leader-ly of positions, obviously, but if this conversation was going to continue much longer, he’d like to at least prevent his tongue feel like it was about to shrivel up into sawdust.
However, he could push that part of the plan easily to the side easily, as in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t that important. Better yet, taking a suggestion from Oliver on the issue would give provide some valuable credibility as a leader. It’d be much easier for the other guy to put some trust in the plan if he felt like some input in his creation.
That last line though...that couldn’t stand. Sam put a hand to his face for a moment, wiping the sweat from his brow before looking back at the boy standing next to him. The fact that he had even gone on to ask that part of the question revealed a severe lack of foresight. Still, he couldn’t just call the guy an idiot. He had to be a least a little sensitive and pretend that he cared about his concerns. Oliver was too useful at the moment to risk alienating, at least for now.
He sighed, before responding in a tired voice, trying to his best not to betray the frustration he was feeling.
“Alright, I’ve give you the signal fires thing. We can cross that bridge when we get there, but realistically, there’s a pretty good chance they’ll find us anyway. The fact that we’ve been taken in the first place is a massive slap in the face to our government, and it’s obvious that getting us back is going to be their top priority right now. If the Americans are to be believed, Britain is already aware of this sick game they’ve been doing and have interfered with it in the past, which likely gives them a lot of leads to begin with.”
Sam paused to breathe, his mouth intensely dry from all this talking. Having to explain all these little details was exhausting. It would be a massive pain in the ass if he had to do this for every person that he met… Anyway, on with the Q&A.
“Secondly, yes, I’m aware that they could kill us at any time if we attempt to disobey them. However, ethics aside, obedience is not guarantee of safety either. Even if they’re telling the truth about letting the final survivor go back home, you think jolly old England’s going to take them back and let them go home just like that? Nazi collaborators got the death penalty after surviving WW2, and I don’t think the state’s just going to forgive any of us for becoming mass murderers at the behest of a regime that’s just as bad, if not worse."
"The way I see it, the choice we have is not between safety and death, but between possible death and certain death. All things considered, I’d rather choose the path that at least gives me a chance of survival. Unless you have any better ideas?”
Having said his piece, Sam stuck a hand in his bag, fumbling around until his fingers closed around a bottle of water. He pulled it out, clumsily attempting to take the cap off and take a drink while still keeping an eye on the guy in front of him. Not exactly the most leader-ly of positions, obviously, but if this conversation was going to continue much longer, he’d like to at least prevent his tongue feel like it was about to shrivel up into sawdust.
"Alright you can cut it with the attitude, mate."
It's not exactly like Oliver asked something hard-hitting. Wherever they were trapped, Oliver had the sneaking suspicion that the people running it weren't just going to let them get to escaping so easily, so he voiced that to Samuel and all he got back was lip.
"I mean just because I don't have any ideas it doesn't mean I can't ask about your ideas, with, what, the most basic questions ever."
That was probably a bridge too far, but Oliver really didn't care right now. His pride had been insulted by the very notion that Samuel had any high ground to lecture from, the fucking tosser. Was Oliver going to have to do all the work recruiting people for his stupid plan because Samuel didn't know how to speak down to people without coming off like a condescending twat? Because Oliver didn't know anything about this situation but he was pretty sure that it didn't take much to go from condescending twat to scary murderer, at least in the mind of other idiots.
The concerning part of Samuel's little soapbox, however, was the notion that their home country wouldn't let someone come back if they were a mass murderer if they participated in this thing. It actually concerned Oliver, not because he was planning on killing to get out of here, but mostly because of what it said about them in the grand scheme of things. The longer the day got, the more Oliver felt like a statistic and less like a person.
"Also if anyone does go mental and start trying to kill us all, you might want to be a bit nicer to the people around you who've got giant fucking guns to shoot them off, yeah?"
It's not exactly like Oliver asked something hard-hitting. Wherever they were trapped, Oliver had the sneaking suspicion that the people running it weren't just going to let them get to escaping so easily, so he voiced that to Samuel and all he got back was lip.
"I mean just because I don't have any ideas it doesn't mean I can't ask about your ideas, with, what, the most basic questions ever."
That was probably a bridge too far, but Oliver really didn't care right now. His pride had been insulted by the very notion that Samuel had any high ground to lecture from, the fucking tosser. Was Oliver going to have to do all the work recruiting people for his stupid plan because Samuel didn't know how to speak down to people without coming off like a condescending twat? Because Oliver didn't know anything about this situation but he was pretty sure that it didn't take much to go from condescending twat to scary murderer, at least in the mind of other idiots.
The concerning part of Samuel's little soapbox, however, was the notion that their home country wouldn't let someone come back if they were a mass murderer if they participated in this thing. It actually concerned Oliver, not because he was planning on killing to get out of here, but mostly because of what it said about them in the grand scheme of things. The longer the day got, the more Oliver felt like a statistic and less like a person.
"Also if anyone does go mental and start trying to kill us all, you might want to be a bit nicer to the people around you who've got giant fucking guns to shoot them off, yeah?"
Sam felt his face flush at Oliver’s outburst, his frustration rising with every word that came out of his classmate’s mouth. Did this guy have any idea what sort of position they were in? He was explaining his plan for how they were going to get out of this life or death situation, and the guy was complaining about his tone? He was trying his best, god damn it!
Normally, he wouldn't think twice about giving his conversation partner a piece of his mind. In fact, he had just about opened his mouth in preparation to do so before his eyes traveled downward to Oliver’s bag, reminding him of the most important thing in the room. The thing that both of them were going to have to rely on if they had any hope of surviving this place.
The gun.
Sam pursed his lips as he looked down at the ground, making every effort to hide the rage bubbling up inside of him. It just wasn’t fair. He was the one who knew what he was doing. He was the one with the plan. And yet, he was the one who had to put up with constant objections from the FUCKING PEANUT GALLERY, all because the luck of the draw had given him the worse weapon.
A deep sigh forced its way out from Sam’s mouth as he attempted to regain control of himself. He had to remember: blowing up now would jeopardize everything that he was working towards, leaving him all the way back at square one. Oliver wasn’t the most reliable ally, but he was the only one that Sam had at the moment. The power imbalance, while regrettable, was something that would have to be rectified later. His eyes traveled back up to meet Oliver’s, before quickly glancing away again awkwardly as he spoke in a hoarse voice.
“Alright...I’m sorry. I’ll…” He paused for a moment, unsure of how to put the necessary sentiment into words. “I’ll try not to do that again.”
The young man stood in silence for a few moments, his posture one of utter defeat. Though there was little that he could do about it now, this humiliation was not something that he was about to forget anytime soon. Hoping to move the conversation away from the previous topic as swiftly as possible, he spoke again, much more quietly this time.
“Do you wanna...get moving soon? If you know anyone that we can trust, we can go looking for them before things get too crazy…”
Normally, he wouldn't think twice about giving his conversation partner a piece of his mind. In fact, he had just about opened his mouth in preparation to do so before his eyes traveled downward to Oliver’s bag, reminding him of the most important thing in the room. The thing that both of them were going to have to rely on if they had any hope of surviving this place.
The gun.
Sam pursed his lips as he looked down at the ground, making every effort to hide the rage bubbling up inside of him. It just wasn’t fair. He was the one who knew what he was doing. He was the one with the plan. And yet, he was the one who had to put up with constant objections from the FUCKING PEANUT GALLERY, all because the luck of the draw had given him the worse weapon.
A deep sigh forced its way out from Sam’s mouth as he attempted to regain control of himself. He had to remember: blowing up now would jeopardize everything that he was working towards, leaving him all the way back at square one. Oliver wasn’t the most reliable ally, but he was the only one that Sam had at the moment. The power imbalance, while regrettable, was something that would have to be rectified later. His eyes traveled back up to meet Oliver’s, before quickly glancing away again awkwardly as he spoke in a hoarse voice.
“Alright...I’m sorry. I’ll…” He paused for a moment, unsure of how to put the necessary sentiment into words. “I’ll try not to do that again.”
The young man stood in silence for a few moments, his posture one of utter defeat. Though there was little that he could do about it now, this humiliation was not something that he was about to forget anytime soon. Hoping to move the conversation away from the previous topic as swiftly as possible, he spoke again, much more quietly this time.
“Do you wanna...get moving soon? If you know anyone that we can trust, we can go looking for them before things get too crazy…”
"Damn right you won't."
Oliver took his small victory, which, compounded with his previous thoughts, suddenly felt was insignificant and meaningless in the grand scheme of things. A lot of things did, come to think of it; the extent with which Oliver didn't like Sam, those afternoons back at home with friends in the Tesco parking lot, all the football games he'd attended - suddenly they meant nothing.
It was all so grim - Oliver felt grim, he suddenly felt hopeless, like he suddenly had no purpose here. For some reason, back when he'd woken up and joined with Sam, he expected better ideas. Why wasn't Sam being useful? Why didn't he listen to Oliver's questions and actually respond like someone who wasn't a fuckwit? Did Sam actually have any good ideas, or was he just being led around as a meatshield? He couldn't really imagine Sam staying around him for the wonderful conversation and the company.
Of course, none of this was betrayed by Oliver's face. You'd have to be a nonce to show your feelings like that, which was totally not a thing that real men did.
"Sounds like an idea, mate. Where you think we should check first?"
But sticking with Sam was pretty much all he had now, so if any grand revelations came to mind, Sam would be the first to know.
Oliver took his small victory, which, compounded with his previous thoughts, suddenly felt was insignificant and meaningless in the grand scheme of things. A lot of things did, come to think of it; the extent with which Oliver didn't like Sam, those afternoons back at home with friends in the Tesco parking lot, all the football games he'd attended - suddenly they meant nothing.
It was all so grim - Oliver felt grim, he suddenly felt hopeless, like he suddenly had no purpose here. For some reason, back when he'd woken up and joined with Sam, he expected better ideas. Why wasn't Sam being useful? Why didn't he listen to Oliver's questions and actually respond like someone who wasn't a fuckwit? Did Sam actually have any good ideas, or was he just being led around as a meatshield? He couldn't really imagine Sam staying around him for the wonderful conversation and the company.
Of course, none of this was betrayed by Oliver's face. You'd have to be a nonce to show your feelings like that, which was totally not a thing that real men did.
"Sounds like an idea, mate. Where you think we should check first?"
But sticking with Sam was pretty much all he had now, so if any grand revelations came to mind, Sam would be the first to know.
Well, the situation was under control for now...not that it made Sam feel any better. The fact that Oliver had put the ball back in his court so suddenly threw him more than a little off guard, though the surprise wasn’t exactly an unwelcome one. Still, the puzzle remained concerning whether his classmate was simply letting him resume his leadership role, or somehow attempting to test him by throwing his own question back in his face.
He clenched his teeth as he looked away from the person standing next to him, his eyes scanning the room as he considered his options. Truth be told, while more than a dozen names immediately came to mind as useful assets, none of them happened to have been in Mr. Shaw’s English class. Still, there had to be someone that they could use…
Sam looked downward for a moment, his brow furrowed as his mind went over the students in the class, one by one. He couldn’t be too picky, after all. There was strength in numbers, and, most importantly, he needed someone who wouldn’t ask nearly as many damn questions as Oliver. After a bit of deliberation, he turned to his classmate and spoke up, trying his best not to sound as forceful as before.
“How about, er, Galahad? He’s a decent fellow, and I know he does sports, so he’s going to have to be in good shape and a team player. I don’t think it could hurt to go looking for him.”
Hopefully they could find him before he met up with that asshole friend of his...
He clenched his teeth as he looked away from the person standing next to him, his eyes scanning the room as he considered his options. Truth be told, while more than a dozen names immediately came to mind as useful assets, none of them happened to have been in Mr. Shaw’s English class. Still, there had to be someone that they could use…
Sam looked downward for a moment, his brow furrowed as his mind went over the students in the class, one by one. He couldn’t be too picky, after all. There was strength in numbers, and, most importantly, he needed someone who wouldn’t ask nearly as many damn questions as Oliver. After a bit of deliberation, he turned to his classmate and spoke up, trying his best not to sound as forceful as before.
“How about, er, Galahad? He’s a decent fellow, and I know he does sports, so he’s going to have to be in good shape and a team player. I don’t think it could hurt to go looking for him.”
Hopefully they could find him before he met up with that asshole friend of his...
Oh, okay. It seemed like Oliver was being ignored and Sam was just thinking out loud, because when Oliver asked where they should go to the massive sprawling location of Galahad, containing other decent fellows, many sporting facilities, in great shape compared to the decaying buildings around it, and works well with groups of stranded students. Because going to an actual building that existed, like a church or the town or the big building he saw by the tip weren't exactly shining beacons of clarity, were they?
Samuel really didn't have any idea what he was doing, did he?
"Sounds good."
Of course, like always, once again, Oliver didn't say what he was really thinking, because if he actually said what he was thinking he'd be alone and without an ideas guy, even if the ideas were useless. And that was barely even taking into account the grand scope of the entire situation everyone had found themselves in.
Oliver needed to do some thinking, and he'd let Samuel do what he wanted until he thought of something.
Samuel really didn't have any idea what he was doing, did he?
"Sounds good."
Of course, like always, once again, Oliver didn't say what he was really thinking, because if he actually said what he was thinking he'd be alone and without an ideas guy, even if the ideas were useless. And that was barely even taking into account the grand scope of the entire situation everyone had found themselves in.
Oliver needed to do some thinking, and he'd let Samuel do what he wanted until he thought of something.
No objections now, huh? Finally.
Sam sighed as he lifted back over this shoulder yet again. There had better not be a repeat of this whole ordeal the next time they stopped for a rest, or he swore that he was going to pop a blood vessel in his brain. Why did people always have to make things more difficult? Hopefully a bigger group would make things a little less awkward. The key word in that phrase being "hopefully".
"Alright then, let's head out."
Sam turned and began walking out the door of the cannery, not wanting to spend another second staring into his classmate's ugly mug, even if it was just to check if the guy was following him.
((Samuel Rosen continued in Burning Boats))
Sam sighed as he lifted back over this shoulder yet again. There had better not be a repeat of this whole ordeal the next time they stopped for a rest, or he swore that he was going to pop a blood vessel in his brain. Why did people always have to make things more difficult? Hopefully a bigger group would make things a little less awkward. The key word in that phrase being "hopefully".
"Alright then, let's head out."
Sam turned and began walking out the door of the cannery, not wanting to spend another second staring into his classmate's ugly mug, even if it was just to check if the guy was following him.
((Samuel Rosen continued in Burning Boats))
Oliver may have had an ugly mug, but it was good for him that the scales were balanced in other ways. For example, while he had never been able to land a bird like his friends were, or lads like his sister and other friends were, he had extra points working in his favour in non-attractive stats. For example, he could get under even the calmest people's nerves, he could land a goal against a shit goalie from a quarter of the way across the field, he could land a no-scope shot on the enemy team with reflex alone, and he knew not to treat other people like they were the shit on the bottom of your shoe if they were supposed to be helping you in a life-or-death situation; these were all skills that he was pretty sure Samuel lacked, so Oliver had the upper hand in that respect.
On the other hand, Samuel's strengths had already been established so often in Oliver's head it bordered on autistic repetition. For now, Oliver was sticking with Samuel even if he couldn't stand him, one of the main reasons being he didn't want to be alone on this peninsula. He could get over it at some point, of course, but that probably wouldn't be for a while. If Oliver suddenly had the perfect idea for how to go about this godforsaken insane situation they'd all been thrust into, then by all means Oliver would walk off on his own, but for now, he still had some thinking to do.
At the end of the day, sticking with Samuel until the end or until a miracle rescue arrived might end up being the only smart idea put forth by anyone in his class, and Oliver would come out the other end looking like a whiny pissant. But these were problems for future-Oliver, not present-Oliver. Present-Oliver wasn't concerned with the other Oliver's problems, since for all present-Oliver knew the latter Oliver didn't exist yet, depending on how his classmates reacted to the insanity of it all.
Insanity that he himself could succumb to at any moment, for all he knew right now, as he exited the empty factory with Samuel, and he wouldn't even know it.
((Oliver Davies continued elsewhere))
On the other hand, Samuel's strengths had already been established so often in Oliver's head it bordered on autistic repetition. For now, Oliver was sticking with Samuel even if he couldn't stand him, one of the main reasons being he didn't want to be alone on this peninsula. He could get over it at some point, of course, but that probably wouldn't be for a while. If Oliver suddenly had the perfect idea for how to go about this godforsaken insane situation they'd all been thrust into, then by all means Oliver would walk off on his own, but for now, he still had some thinking to do.
At the end of the day, sticking with Samuel until the end or until a miracle rescue arrived might end up being the only smart idea put forth by anyone in his class, and Oliver would come out the other end looking like a whiny pissant. But these were problems for future-Oliver, not present-Oliver. Present-Oliver wasn't concerned with the other Oliver's problems, since for all present-Oliver knew the latter Oliver didn't exist yet, depending on how his classmates reacted to the insanity of it all.
Insanity that he himself could succumb to at any moment, for all he knew right now, as he exited the empty factory with Samuel, and he wouldn't even know it.
((Oliver Davies continued elsewhere))