head and a vision of a perfect city that was calling to him.
Bill Morishi felt like his mind was racing a mile a minute as he sat in the control room, already hard at work on his day's duties. He was trying to figure out the best way to approach Dr. Trent with the suspicions that were beginning to form in his mind.
The problem was, he wasn't exactly certain what to say to her. Trent was about as down to earth, relatively speaking, as they came. She wasn't going to have any patience with conjecture, suspicions, or half-baked notions. How was he supposed to tell her that he thought maybe the artifact was causing erratic behavior among the residents of Babylon 5?
He had looked for a scientific basis upon which to hinge his concerns, of course. He'd run a full spectrum analysis, to see if somehow the thing could be generating waves that were interfering with the alpha rhythms of the station's populace. Not only didn't he find any suspicious waves-not only was he unable to detect anything being generated by the artifact at all- but he couldn't get past the fact that he had been confronted by a mob whose members came from an assortment of races. Different alien minds functioned in different ways, and the unlikely notion that something could be affecting all of them was rather frightening to him. What could possibly exert that sort of power and influence? He wasn't sure that he wanted to know, but by the same token, he knew he wasn't exactly in a position to just cover his eyes, ignore it, and pray that it went away.
Because if the artifact was having an effect on Babylon 5, then it was his responsibility to let someone know. If not Dr. Trent, then Sheridan. Again, though, what was he going to say? It all sounded so ... so insane, so without anything