Quoted By:
>Poke around
"...get our bearings first. We still need to stick those siphons everywhere, right?"
"Um, yeah. I-i-it'd be good to get some coverage. I-It would be ideal if we had somebody else sticking them up for us, um, unless we're going on a real detour..." Gil sees your narrowed eyes. "I-i-it'll probably be fine! I-I stress-tested them. The i-important part is that they're exposed to the Law getting blasted out, and— um— sticking them in more places would be better, but— you know what, forget i-i-it. Um. Yeah. Bearings?"
"You know, like... where are we?" You press your fingers against the glass. "Not the main part of Headspace. That's all <span class="mu-i">that.</span>" The spheres. "But we're all the way down there, either. It's like we're suspended, or—"
<span class="mu-i">Penthouses.</span>
"—penthouses?"
"What?" Gil says.
<span class="mu-i">The execs live here. Not Management— the execs. Casey and the highest-up higher-ups. They put you in a spare and locked the door and you have been living the high life, comparatively speaking. It could have been so much worse. You're in their private clinic.</span>
"Um, we're in a— there's a bunch of private residences in here. Penthouses. For Casey, and... other people."
Gil guffaws. "Casey Kemper <span class="mu-i">lives</span> here?"
"Somewhere."
"Holy shit! There's no way we'd— we don't need to go i-into his place. Right? There's no reason we'd need to..."
Obviously he wants to. Even you can tell that. "...We'll play it by ear?"
"Aces."
—
Virginia tells you what direction to walk in. The linoleum tile is bright yellow. The windows continue the whole length down the hallway and out into the adjoining room, whose walls are orange, and whose counter and shelves are glossy sterile white. You see the counter and who mans it and don't shriek. You do not. You merely jolt and inhale loudly, then remember yourself, then remember Virginia. Her mind is unconcerned.
<span class="mu-i">That's Fred.</span>
Fred is a large octopus in a suit.
<span class="mu-i">He's a Friend. They don't let employees run the direct-contact pharms anymore, after the black market debacle. It's all Friends. He's friendly.</span>
You eye Fred. Fred raises a tentacle and issues a sloppy wave.
(Choices next.)
