[ He doesn't comment on the projections' awareness again just yet, saving that in light of the next questions. ]

No. I mean, not as far as I can tell. I woke up in the same place, and I didn't have a hole in my head or anything but I didn't... [ He pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose with the fingers of one hand, curling the other around his coffee cup like a reflex. ] ...I didn't have a pulse, no breathing was actually happening, nothing. [ Which doesn't explain why he's got all of that now but he waits for Yusuf's preferred next line of inquiry - whatever it is, turning so that he's facing both of them again, forgetting his coffee behind him on the counter as he folds his arms. ]

[ It doesn't take a clinician to see that Arthur's chest rises and falls with the normal rhythm of respiration, possibly more pronounced now that he's brought attention to it. It feels a bit like everyone in the room is aware of it-- save, of course, the corgi that trots back into the kitchen, happy and panting from its one-dog relay. Pancake stands by Arthur's feet-- which isn't far from sitting by Arthur's feet, save that the thought, perhaps, hasn't occurred just yet-- as if used to being near. ]

You were fine otherwise? With the exception of missing necessary bodily functions, you were functional- able to retain memories, count, spell, maintain balance, etcetera?

[ Eames takes a sip of his tea, countertop digging into his lower back as he leans back against it, patting his thigh to catch Pancake's attention. When the Corgi waddles over, he crouches down, rubbing the puppy behind his left ear. ] That was the easy part, sans the lack of heart beat.

You ought to tell him of the trade, [ he pipes up, too, on account of memories - the dead part hadn't been the issue at hand, he thinks, when faced with a mechanism that can completely block off a part of your memory system. ]

[ Leaning against the counter still, Arthur watches the corgi mildly, a half successful effort not to tense as much as he can't help doing at the point of the trade. He drags his gaze back to the chemist. Whereas he would argue with Eames that it wasn't easy, that he has no idea what it felt like, that if it had just been a lack of a pulse he could have 'lived' with that, he doesn't do anything of the sort in front of Yusuf, just pulling his coffee from behind him, drinking some before saying anything. ]

To be alive again, I traded my sight for thirty-two days and memories - childhood, specifically.

[ To say they weren't important is irrelevant, he thinks, though he can more or less guess the feelings on it. Still, if nothing else, it's one more thing they've tried, tested as to the limits or extent of this place's power. He scowls, thinking he'd like a word a little less supernatural than that. ]

[ The skeptical look the two men receive from the chemist right now should speak for itself, but just in case, Yusuf takes a pointed sip from his tea. ]

It would seem your answer is right there. Who did you trade these things to? There must have been a process, [ Yusuf waves his unoccupied hand. ] And whomever is in charge of the process is the link to the main subconscious. Grief often passes through a system of bargaining; the trade would make sense, assuming the subconscious was aware of a death within the system.

[ Though... how could one subconscious block out the memories of another consciousness? Doubt only colors his last few words, and he sips from his teacup to forget it was there at all. ]

It's not as though I haven't thought of it as such, Yusuf, [ Eames points out, flat - the Deities present themselves as wholly unavailable, even if the method of striking at the stability of the dream seems to lie in them, other alternatives weeded out with every day that passes. The way they came to be here, too, is a matter of concern - but there's little they can suss out while still under, that being something they need to handle when they come back to themselves. ]

But being able to reach through the immersion of a mixed pool of multiple subconscious to directly toy with memory? [ It's a frightening amount of control for any one - or more - people to have, and it requires a certain amount of subtlety. ]

They spoke to me but we never met face to face. One minute I was 'dead' and the next I wasn't. Like a switch.

[ He sets his coffee down again, not certain what branch is best to stalk out on at the moment, where they should be focusing now with a reliable chemist in their midst and - hopefully, based on the track record, not just for a day. ]

But even if we assume the Deities do represent the so-called 'main' subconscious, how're we supposed to deduce whether it's one-for-one, or if each of them is just...a facet of one mind?

[ The long and short of it, the rules don't work the way they are familiar with and for all they know they can't even be applied. It's a shot in the dark whatever their approach, which is irritating to even think about - the weak-point of the environment they're in ever elusive. ]

[ Eames has a valid point. The two of them have been playing the dream scene for long enough to know what seems natural and what seems fabricated. Neither Arthur nor Eames would be fooled by a simple subconscious- but perhaps that isn't what they're dealing with here. A single person couldn't stay down this long without implementing multiple levels. Even then, to assume that someone would be able to keep a city's worth of people (where would one store the bodies?) sedated and micromanaged? It is much too extravagant a system to assume it isn't being controlled by multiple people.

Brushing his thumb over the ceramic of his cup, Yusuf's eyes track across the tabletop aimlessly. Theories, insofar as anything as illegal and scarcely documented as dreamshare can have such, say that a mind is capable of maintaining a dreamscape because the dreamer is only focused on the part of the dream where he or she is. A person can create infinitely, but their experience in the dream is limited. One cannot be omnipotent and singularly present at the same time- hence why any Joe with a PASIV can't hook up and play God in a person's head for a little while. It requires too great a mastery over the mind. But some people think this is the result of having a set understanding of consciousness- a practiced implementation of limitations on oneself and the constructs of one's reality. If one is flexible enough, has the ability to see around such strict parameters of "real" and "impossible" than, some believe, it might be possible to work with the dream. If forgers can change their bodies, why can't a person learn to affect the psyches they perceive as their own? Yusuf has heard of theories... ]

It would be quite a talent, that much is certain... [ Yusuf grants after a moment, glancing toward Eames; pointedly not refuting the possibility. To Arthur however, he gives a small shake of his head, his shoulder rising in a brief shrug. ] Of that, I am afraid I am not certain.