Not down on any map

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They seem to be the only people around, but the realization of how odd their situation is slowly vanes. What remains on the forefront of the men’s mind is the need to raise money for a room at the nearby Inn.

“I have an idea!” Daniel speaks up. “Let’s sell something we don’t need! That way we not just raise money for a room at that inn over there…”

A brief pause occurs, when Daniel struggles to pursue this track of his thought. The topic tries to slip from his consciousness, but Daniel pulls himself together and continues: “The currency we get will also tell us where - and when - exactly we are.”

“Good idea!” Connor agrees. “Do you have anything we could sell?”

“I was thinking my head! Although it’s cracked pretty badly. I don’t think anybody would want it.”

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“I appreciate your increased self-awareness, Daniel, but we still need something to sell.”

“I just TOLD you, Connor! I’m going to sell my head.”

Daniel reaches into his pocket…

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“Here!”

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“Here!” Daniel had said, before casually producing a shrunken head from his poncho pocket.

It is at this point in his life, that Connor Anderson finally understands why his father had always looked so tired, when he had still been Captain at DPD central station.

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“That’s so many levels of icky, my vocabulary software thinks it needs an update to express them all. But since we have nothing else we can do without, alright, let’s try selling your shrunken head first thing in the morning!”

The duo rises, then suddenly they stop at the same time, when the realization hits them:
“Wait, Daniel! I was disgusted by you carrying a human skull around, but then again, you’re Daniel Phillips, sooo...”

“Connor!!!”

“We already experienced before how our thoughts get shaped by this new environment, and just now it happened again. Somehow we knew that selling preserved human skulls to private collectors in brought daylight is perfectly acceptable in this place.”

“Looks like it.”

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“Then where the heck ARE we?! Cuzz this can’t be earth!"

“The past, Connor. And going by the tech level, I wager we hopped back to the previous cycle of magic: 1818 - 1838.”

“But that was modern times already!” Connor protests. “Whereas in this place people peddle other people’s skulls...”

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Daniel cuts his friend short: “Twelve years ago your owners gave you to the DPD as a product sample, and mine wanted to dump me alive at the landfill. Nobody batted an eye, because we’re androids. Is it so hard to imagine that 200 years ago humans had no issues with owning sufficiently foreign skulls?”

“Yes, Daniel. Yes, it is hard to imagine.”

As a detective Connor of course has seen lots of human on human violence, but him being in a position to do something about it had erected a certain distance between the man and the cases. Now, in 1818, Connor was a badgeless, powerless vagrant and to add insult to injury crime had not just gotten worse, but apparently institutionalized. It was much to stomach, even of your stomach was a pocket laboratory.

Daniel wishes he could help Connor through this. But instead there is something else that requires Daniel’s attention, and preferably on short notice!

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“Connor...? I think whatever happened to us, the process put us into human bodies. I feel the need to... you know... have a sitting? Only I don’t know how.”

Connor's face lights up immediately!

“Oh, don’t worry! When Dr. Landgraab made me hallucinate that I was a human, I went to the bathroom several times. I have the answers to all your defecation and urination related needs!”

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Being knowledgeable, having the expertise to help a friend through a crisis... It is exactly what Connor needs to get over his sadness now. Daniel is happy for the friend, but he would have been happier, had Connor taught him something... taught him ANYTHING other than the correct use of the potty.