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trash bin PART TWO
| the pygmalion. . . ???  OPENING PROGRAM . . . . . . . . . _PROGRAM CRASHED _PROGRAM REBOOT? >N >SCAN PROGRAM . . . _PROGRAM CRASHED . . . >EMERGENCY LEVEL . . . >EMERGENCY LEVEL . . . _EMERGENCY LEVEL LOADING LOADING. . . LOADING. . . LOADING TEXTURE-NIGHT-SKY, TEXTURE-FULL-MOON, TEXTURE-DIRT-PATH, TEXTURE-CAMPFIRE LOADING SOUND-CRICKETS, SOUND-GRAVEL, SOUND-WIND, SOUND-FIRE-CRACKLING UPLOADING USER UPLOADING USER UPLOADING USER UPLOAD SUCCESSFUL TRASH BIN It feels more like an electrical zap than dying. Dying might feel a little bit more like falling asleep, but this is harder, more painful. If you've ever been electrocuted, the feeling might seem familiar; the discovery you make when you open your eyes, too, is likely very familiar. It's the night sky. Stars twinkle, a fire cracks warmly. You sit up and observe the surrounding area, and it's like you've woken up in some sort of canyon. The fire burns brightly, the moon shines beautifully, the crickets sing, and it is ... peaceful. Mostly. You know you're dead. This must be, then, the after life? Or something like it, at least. The horizon stretches on forever, the dirt and gravel seemingly endless. The moon is so big and bright, it's like you could reach out and touch her. There's a shed not too far from the fire, only but a stone's throw away, as if someone else might have made it, and then went inside it. Approaching it, you can see the light glowing inside it through the dusty windows that are littered with fingerprints. A computer screen, so large and wide that it's baffling, sits, waiting. Turning knob reveals that the shed is unlocked, and stepping inside... it doesn't feel any different from the outside. A chair sits in the center of the room, a strange contraption strapped to the head of it. It looks like it would lower itself upon the head of whoever dares to sit on it, and wires from it's bottom curl up towards the machines attached to the screen. Several smaller desktop screens sit beneath the giant monitor. They, too, are hooked up to the machines scattered around the room, to the ominous one perched on top of the medical chair, and they blink, as if fighting to stay alive without use. Pressing the giant monitor on, it lights up, and displays, strangely enough... a security camera feed. You push the button. It switches to another room. Again, another room. Again, another room. So on and forth. You peeping tom! But no one can blame you, in the end. You might as well digitally haunt the rest of the ship until the game ends, and AL-2955 can clean out the trash bin. ...Right? rule book taken characters information cards |
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At any rate, I can't control your actions once you're back on your own server. But you will need to be careful. The Souvlaki should know as little about the Nuwa as possible. Even just revealing our existence is already a major risk we've taken.
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And been careful before. Think it's fair to say everyone I've contacted has turned out to be trustworthy.
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[The world suddenly lurches for a moment. Lin glances up.]
Ah, looks like your time's just about up. One more word of advice - merging onto this server was dangerous enough already. You make another jump too soon, your code won't be able to handle it. Unless you want to be erased from existence, get someone else to be the messenger.
See you later, The Iron Bull.
[There's a horrific screeching noise before the room literally dissolves around him. When Bull looks around, he'll be back in the graveyard on the Pygmalion.]