Right then.  I'm not sure if I ever introduced myself properly.  Most of you don't know me, and don't have a single reason in the world to care about who I am, and that's fine.

There's someone out there who needs to know, though.  Someone who's forgotten.

People have been going missing.  Sometimes they've reappeared, sometimes not.  And I'm sorry. I am so sorry that it took people close to me vanishing before I decided to start paying proper attention to this.  But I'm paying attention now.  And whoever's behind it, whoever it is out there, I hope that you're paying attention too.  Because this concerns you.

I'm called the Doctor.  A traveling doctor.  I go around the country -- well, galaxy.  Well, galaxies.  I go around and I find places where there's something wrong.  Where people have a problem.  And then... I make things better.  I'm not human, though I look it at first glance.  I'm something older.  Something that doesn't make threats lightly.

The next time that you make somebody disappear, it had better be me.  Because if it's not, you're going to find that I'm getting closer.  Every time you hurt and frighten these people, every time you play your little game, I'll be watching.  I'll be learning.  And you had better believe... I will figure you out.  I will find the people you've taken, and I will find you, and then you will find yourself just like every other problem I've come across on planet Earth.

Solved.

So!  Sorry it's taken me so long, New Moore, but if you need a place to take your complaints, your troubles, all the little things that are puzzling or bothering you...

The Doctor is In.

Who are the patron saints of pastry chefs? ("Belgium" doesn't count)
Classic gianduja is a combination of which two flavours?
In making a mousse, the cream should be whipped to what consistency?

Not seeing Carnaval this week kind of makes it feel like it shouldn't be Lent yet. But it is — so Caffè Sospeso has rolled out an entire Lenten-appropriate menu, with fresh seafood on Fridays, available from now until Easter!

For the record, I'm refraining from being meddlesome this Lent. It would have been easier if my brother hadn't shown up...

I have to admit, finding a steady job does help with the boredom this place creates.

Dante, did you enjoy my present? I made sure it was tailored especially for you.

But I don't.

Also, how about keeping the noise level down tonight, neighbors?

Thanks, Peeta.

[ Finnick's boat isn't much by far, but it is a sight for sore eyes. It's pieced together from his apartment furniture, spare wood and woven vine rafts, with simple sails made from bedsheets. So what if it isn't pretty? With all the weight testing Johanna made him do, he knows it's functional. And that police officer can say all he wants — if there's one family-friendly thing Finnick knows, it's boats. Everything's going to be okay.

Of course, convincing three kids who've never been on a boat and one girl who's probably going to kill them all by the end of this trip is another story entirely.

He's been turning this over in his mind while pulling the boat out of the forest; how to best keep Johanna sane during the voyage. Rope's not an option. Frankly, Finnick's coming up empty. She'll just have to deal until they get— he isn't naive enough to think they'll find home, but somewhere else is good enough.

As he reaches the shoreline, Finnick can make out the shapes of his friends. It's late into the night, but they're all present. He grins and pushes the bow into the lapping water, finally feeling at home in this strange world. In the boat are blankets, food, water, and of course, those silly life vests and floaty wings. Aren't you glad?

He wastes no time and steps into the boat immediately, holding out a hand for whoever's next. ]

Who's ready for an adventure?

Real, not real, I don't really care-- I've got more important things to worry about.

For instance, where is the nearest bar?

For all the vaunted orientation training this place is supposed to have, it seems to be missing some pretty basic stuff.  Like a computer literacy course.

Now, these machines are actually pretty tough for me to operate.  If you gave me a chisel and a stone slab, I wouldn't know what to do with them, either.  But a lot of people seem to have the reverse problem.  They've never seen a computer in their lives, so there are some basic things they still need to adjust to.

For example:  even in the comment threads, unless you exercise some informational security, anyone can read what you've got to say.  This is a civilian network with civilian protocols:  no built-in encryption.  If anybody's interested in learning how to add some, well, come down to the station or up to my apartment and I'll show you how, because this is just... ridiculous.

And as a totally unrelated side note:  there don't seem to be a lot of laws on the books about regulating maritime commerce.  So, from an enforcing the law perspective, I'm just not that interested in whether or not anyone's launching a boat.  Even if I was, I promise, my officer's handbook forbids the use of torture in interrogations.  It's a matter of public record.

If someone was planning to launch a boat this weekend, though, I'd probably tell them it was a bad idea.  Starting a sea voyage without having a course plotted is a little like trying to travel between solar systems without a Mass Relay:  you're just going to wind up drifting in cold, empty nothingness.  It's a pretty ugly way to go.  Trust me on that one.

And since it's a basic principle of navigation that you can never discover your longitude from a static location, only relative to where you've traveled, that means there's exactly no way to know where you're going when you push off from the coast.

Friendly warning.  And, of course, completely unofficial and hypothetical.

I see that we're expected to want out of this place. I'm half-certain some of you are in the middle of figuring out exactly how to make that happen. What I want to know is, why? Because we've been told as much? Someone should either give me a unequivocal answer or point me to where you keep the liquor.

And point me to where you keep the liquor, actually. Who knows how long it'll take to give me that answer.

I keep thinking this is some kind of Capitol trick, some new kind of Game, some twisted mix of entertainment and revenge.  There's no sign of any jacker stings, though, nothing I can find that would mess with my memory or give me a different explanation, a better explanation. 

Being in the middle of an unfamiliar city still feels like a trap waiting to spring.  If there is some invisible Gamemaker out there, pulling the strings, waiting for me to fall into his snare, he should just remember that I'm a hunter too, and that when it comes to breaking games, I may be an amateur, but I learned from the best.

I'd like to apologize to everyone for the way I acted. It wasn't like me— or, well. Actually, it was, but I swore to never go back to that.

Everything just caught up to me, I guess.

It isn't fair to my friends to have to deal with me when I get like that, and it won't happen again. The fact that it wasn't just me is... worrisome, so I'm going full steam ahead with the boat. It should be ready by the end of the month. We've moved it into the woods, so if anyone needs me, I'll be there.

Things seem brighter now! Is everyone else feeling better? More like themselves? I hope so.

[The video flicks on, showing what residents may recognize as the lobby of the ward of the hospital that is responsible for newcomers' psychological evaluations. A woman's voice - also recognizable as one of the assistants who initially hand out telephones, computers, and other network-compliant devices - is in the middle of explaining how to go about making a video recording and posting it to the network. For a while the camera remains trained at the ground; then another voice interrupts, saying,]

Actually,

[The camera quickly flicks up just long enough to catch a straight shot of Katniss, her face gaunt and her expression stony. She looks first at the wall, then straight into the camera.]

I've had enough of being filmed.

[She reaches for the camera, probably faster than necessary. The video shakes, the assistant's voice can be heard making a surprised noise, and everything abruptly cuts off.]

Peeta, get over here. Finnick went over the deep end and I'm really tired of listening to it.

Would anyone know if there's a bakery on this island? If not, is there a place where I might be able to open one? Or do we have to build ourselves? I wouldn't particularly mind doing that, but I'm not sure how the process works here.