Quoted By:
Okay. Sure. You have successfully made it to a place without Casey in it. It's a large, low-ceilinged, circular room, completely lined with windows, carpeted inexplicably in orange shag. Many of the windows are written upon in marker, but you can't read any of it. You do recognize some arrows. Across the way from you, built onto the wall, is a grid of rectangles. All of them display a grainy black-and-white pattern except for one on the right, which is displaying a moving picture. Near the grid is a structure about the size and shape of two wheeled chalkboards, only instead of any chalkboard, it's full of woven strings. Actual strings, not the glowy kind. You guess they might be closer to cords? It looks a bit like a loom, but it doesn't have any of the loomy parts. Throughout the inner parts of the room are desks and desk chairs. Almost all of the desks have shiny glass-fronted boxes sitting on them, plus... er... typewriters? Like a typewriter, but only the keys, none of the paper-holding part. Also on the desks are a variety of paper cups and mysterious knickknacks. The desk chairs have Managers in them.
Some of the desk chairs have Managers in them, typing intently on their paperless typewriters. Other Managers are gaggled around the rectangle with the moving picture. What is it showing? Is that... no. Seriously. Ellery?
On a hunch, you look out through the windows, and there, far away, on the corkscrew staircase: Casey, five Managers, and Ellery below them. He has his arm extended straight out, like he's holding them all at crossbow-point. Is he insane? Like, actually insane? Even you knew better! You guess you knew he was suicidal, but you thought he wanted to make it to the explosion part, not—
"?????"
The Manager closest to you has turned her chair around. It's her. The one you disconnected inside Us. You don't know what she barked out— you mean, you literally can't understand it— but whatever it is, everybody else's heads turn too.
«How many are there.»
Uhh. Lots. 30? 35?
«Get <out>.»
But you— you mean, yes, but— you just got here! And this is— you got into top secret Managerland, from the looks of it, the secret hovering Management base, and you could learn so many things, and you don't want to go <span class="mu-i">back</span> to Casey. You just left. Is there anything else?
«...»
«...»
«Tell them you're the Herald of the Bright Epoch.»
What? No you're not. He's talking about a lizard-thing. He said it didn't even exist.
«<Tell them>.»
You're not a lizard-thing, and you do exist. They'll take one look at you and tell you you're not a lizard-thing, and then they'll murder you, or whatever they're going to do. Toss you out the window.
«<Fine.> Let me do it.»
What? And squish himself?
«Yes.»
Wow. Uh. He must be...
«Charlotte Frances Fawkins. Leave now or tell them or we will leave or tell them together. <Go.>»
(Choices next.)
