⛌ bluff ⛌

[SHIVERS]

You think over the details you can remember about the TOLA,
trying to reassure yourself.

The placard said the computer itself would disappear,
and mentioned disappearances of people, too.
So, maybe it's done this before?

And returned every time.
This could be temporary, then.





You don't remember it saying anything about the people returning, though.



You don't want to think about what happens to you

if it decides to return to its desk
with you still inside it.




Hopefully you aren't on a time limit, here.








You shake that thought away.

Maybe
there's a way to actually Use the computer while it's


You?




You could check for a keyboard.
You reach towards your tors- No. You stop yourself.

No, you REALLY do not want to feel what 'your body' is, right now.
Everything has felt
Wrong,
physically,
since you left the museum.
Besides, you wouldn't be able to see much without removing your clothes.
And you are Not doing that out here.

You can give yourself a full examination when you're back in your cabin,
not standing outside in the middle of nowhere.







You briefly consider trying to figure out potential commands,
but remember that
whatever you consider Yourself is in here.

You don't want to screw up and delete yourself from existence.
And that sounds like something You, of all people,
would find a way to do by accident.

No Thank You.

Maybe you can try later when you're
'calmer',
whatever that might look like now.





You decide on the bar.

You can ask for help, or call for help.
















You make your way over to it, slowing your pace.

You nearly fell, before;
your head might be even more fragile than before, right now.
You'd rather not find out what happens if any part of this body cracks.

Some adjustment time could help right now, anyway.
So, you take it slow.





You reach the double-doors at the front of the bar.
There's music coming from inside.

You place your plastic claw on the handle,
and proceed to





hesitate.

You're worried about being attacked,
but, also

even just having people be
Afraid of you,
or thinking you look Strange or Off-putting like this,
or just
Staring

sounds mortifying.





No choice.

You probably don't even look like this, anyway.
It probably isn't happening.

You push your way inside.










 

▶ Future People
Alabama Shakes

A set of small bells ring quietly above the door.
Some radio station plays faintly from speakers throughout the building.

Before you manage to locate another person,
a gruff voice speaks up from behind the bar.
You freeze stiff at the sound, your back arching in a way that feels particularly alien.

"Got about 20 minutes til we close.
You want food or drink, lemme know."



The voice's owner is a rather large, orange beatfox far to the left,
wiping down the back of the bar with a rag.

They aren't really looking at you.

It's likely they only heard the door open.







You take the moment to survey the bar itself.

It's a lot bigger on the inside than you pictured.
The bar is at the far left, stretching around the corner of the restaurant.
You can see an open window into the kitchen behind it.

The restaurant takes up most of the building,
with many, many tables spanning the giant, open room.
There's a few booths in the corner opposite the bar, too.
They look comfy, and semi-private.

On the right side, tucked away,
there are a few pool tables, a dart board,
and a couple of slot machines with chairs.
The shining lights from the slots catch your attention,
so you deliberately avoid looking at them.

There's a clock ticking on the center wall  of the room.
It reads 11:37 PM.

A phone hangs on the wall
between the restaurant's tables and the games to the right side.





You debate going up to the bar and asking for help,
but,


they
haven't seen you yet.

And you feel anxious thinking about them doing so.

Your monitor head tucks slightly down against your shoulders;
an annoyingly-unconscious motion you can't seem to stop.











The phone.
You want to try the phone first.

They're bound to see you, when you use it,
but hopefully you won't look menacing making a phone call.
Surely you won't.



You step over to it, debating who to call.



You don't know very many people.

And you don't really want to bother any of them.

For all you know, this probably isn't actually happening.
You had a panic attack in a museum because you were alone,
and scared
and
something just

broke
in your brain.

Or maybe the TOLA really does cause hallucinations;
from radiation, or something like that.





Either way,
you could try calling your therapist.
Try to get your head on strai-

 . . .

Try to sort out your brain.

That sounds like a better idea.






You lift the receiver






and immediately remember that:
You don't have any phone numbers memorized.

You check your pockets.

You don't have your phone.
Or your wallet, for that matter.
You left both in your cabin.

The only thing in your pocket is the meal ticket.




You hang the receiver up,
gently bonking your head against the wall,
resting it there for a few seconds in annoyance at yourself.










Well.

New options.

You could steel yourself and ask the person manning the bar for help.
Or, at least, check if this is actually happening with another person.
You should work up a proper approach if you decide to do this, you think.

If you do talk to them,
and somehow this DOES seem to be happening,
you wonder if you should ask about the person who checked you in:
She mentioned having some medical training.
Maybe she could
help, somehow? Or check things out, at least?
You don't know.
You're grasping at straws, here.

You could also still use the phone, and call the emergency line.
But, is that a good option when you aren't Entirely Sure this is happening?
What if it isn't, and a emergency services come all the way out here for nothing?
What would you even say?
'My head is a computer.
Help?
Thanks.'
Still, it IS the only number you know off-hand.

You could also go anywhere else.
The previous options are still open to you.

The pool, the lit campfire,
checking on the person in cabin #8,
or returning to your own cabin.

Even the museum
is
still technically open.



You really don't want to go back there.
But,
you could.




There are probably more options you're forgetting, too.

Time to decide.