[ If anyone is hanging out in the square, they'll see a very confused looking teenager slowly bringing what is not his cell phone closer to his face. And if anybody is looking at the network, they see the adorable can't be mad at that face moving closer to the screen. He tilts his head, perplexed. He looks around. Nobody else looks completely confused.

But, wait. He hears other people on this thing. He squints. Could this be some kind of mass communication device? Give a gold star to Scott McCall as he looks around him and then back down. ]

Can anybody hear me? Or, see me? Anyone know how far away I am from Beacon Hills? [ Or how he even got here? ] It's in California. [ This doesn't look like California. He'd ask for help but it's not exactly something he wants to do. He can handle this. It reminds him of those times he woke up miles from home. But, that was a wolf thing. Could this be true alpha related? Is this something he has to look forward to? ] Or, if anybody near me has a cell, I need to reach some people. [ Or, at least his mother. Hi Mom. I'm all right. I just woke up in a strange place. ] Thanks.

[ But, he pauses. His nose picks something up. Yes. He distinctly smells something familiar. Or, mouth-watering. It's not clear. And that's all the network gets as he brings it back down to his side. But, the video continues as he's walking in some nondescript direction. ]

[The device is upside down. The room it shows belongs to someone who really loves to draw. There are pictures everywhere that were clearly drawn by a kid and said child is offscreen somewhere, coughing a lot.]

Ugh.

[She doesn't like this at all. Bare feet rush past the device, more coughing and some sneezing thrown in for good measure and a tin of colored pencils hits the floor. The owner of the pencils and the aforementioned feet appears on camera long enough to clean up the mess before they disappear again.

For a moment.

Victoria's face appears on screen and this time, it's clear she's aware the device turned on.

She's paler than usual and looks tired, hair a mess and her nose is a bit red from frequent contact with a tissue.

Quietly, she reaches over with one multi-colored hand and switches the feed off but not before there's another fit of coughing from a kid who quite obviously has a cold.

[A deep, British voice begins broadcasting on the network, no video attached. There is a slight bit of noise in the background, nothing loud, but white noise, indistinguishable and generic. He could be broadcasting from anywhere.]

Good evening. My name is John Harrison. I'm a traveler, brought to this place by what appears to be an error. I have no memory of this place on Earth, and I'm quite well-traveled.

Tell me, is this Network of devices always on? Is there always a listener, some warm body on the other end, ready to give and receive advice and succor? I do find that remarkable.

Is there anywhere that isn't suffering from this...illness that's literally plaguing this place?