LeStryfe79
President Spartacus
This LP is EXACTLY like my life at the truck stop I work at. 
-
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In Progress Let's play Kentucky Route Zero!
- Thread starter Crooked Bee
- Start date
I hope you didn't regret it! I really loved Episode 2 as well, personally.
The game's currently 50% on Steam, by the way: http://store.steampowered.com/app/231200/
Anyway, exploring on...
Another encounter with the guitar player.
Conway stands and listens.
The young man strums absently on the guitar, hums tunelessly, and occasionally mumbles a word.
> Put a dollar in the cup.
Listen.
Conway puts a wrinkled dollar bill from his back pocket and puts it in the young man's cup.
The young man stops playing, pulls the wet dollar bill out of his whiskey, and hands it back to Conway.
Art, man. So pretentious it's not for sale.
I wonder if the diner scene plays out differently if we go for different dialogue options?
Conway tries the door.
The door swings open easily. A bell rings nearby. The interior of the diner is pitch black.
> Walk in.
Wait a moment to adjust to the darkness.
Leave.
Conway enters the diner and closes the door behind him.
Someone shines a flashlight in Conway's eyes. The light is almost immediately blinding, but in the instant it switches on he can make out a few figures inside:
Two old men in trucker hats sit in a corner booth, with a checkers board set on the table between them.
A young woman standing behind the counter in an apron must be a waitress.
The cook stares blankly from the kitchen.
A young woman standing behind the counter in an apron must be a waitress.
The cook stares blankly from the kitchen.
The door slams shut, and the room is dark again.
> Sit down at the counter.
Try to open the door and leave.
Conway walks in the direction of the counter.
He hits his knee on something hard and metallic, winces quietly, and then carefully finds his way to a stool. He places his hand on the counter.
Another hand, a young woman's, rests itself on his. She guides his fingers to a laminated menu. Conway closes his eyes, opens them, maybe closes them again. Impossible to differentiate.
Order coffee.
Order waffles.
> Ask her about the basketball game.
A perfect thing to ask a woman about... I guess.
The Wildcats are struggling, but today's was an important game. They could have rallied. Perhaps the waitress heard the game from the kitchen; or maybe she's a fan herself. Conway clears his throat.
Remember, guys: there are no wrong dialogue choices in KRZ!
The game doesn't follow up on that, so we move on.
Conway steps through the museum's doors.
A few feet inside the museum doors, the ambient sound of the highway drops sharply away. The room is cold, dark, and still.
A book lies open on a table in the center of the room.
An open hallway extends to the left. Large glass doors bar the path ahead.
Walk to the hallway.
Walk through the glass doors.
> Look at the book.
Exit the museum.
Conway looks at the book.
There's no title on the book's spine or cover. A three-word phrase written in pencil on the first page is smudged and indecipherable.
On the first page, someone has left an ink drawing of a horse. (Was it you, Andyman Messiah?) Several dozen blank pages later, at the end of the book, is an elaborate ink drawing of a one-legged man working an antique adding machine, surrounded by whiskey bottles.
Walk to the hallway.
>Walk through the glass doors.
Look at the book.
Exit the museum.
Conway walks to the glass doors.
The glass doors won't budge. To apply any more force would likely break them.
Let's do it the Codexian way, then.
> Force through the doors.
Return to the entrance.
Conway walks through the broken glass doors.
Broken glass grinds under Conway's boots as he walks down the hall. He has the feeling of being in a larger space. Very little light reaches the far end of the hallway.
> Feel the walls.
Feel the floor.
Return to the entrance.
Conway runs his hands along the walls.
The walls are completely smooth, and strangely warm. Conway can feel his breath and sweat condensing on the surface.
> Feel the floor.
Conway kneels and runs his hands along the floor.
The floor is completely smooth, and strangely warm. Conway can feel his breath and sweat condensing on the surface.
> Return to the entrance.
Conway returns to the entrance.
A book lies open on a table in the center of the room.
> Walk to the hallway.
Walk through the glass doors.
Look at the book.
Exit the museum.
Conway examines the boxes on the walls.
The first box, just a few feet into the hall, contains an assortment of bird wings. Some are missing feathers. One large, brightly-colored wing almost glows in the moonlight. Its feathers are intact, but a piece of bone pokes awkwardly out from the tip.
Look at the boxes on the walls.
> Look at the darkened display case.
Return to the entrance.
Conway examines the dark display case.
The display case is several yards wide, but just a few feet off the ground. It's unlit, and back in this corner of the darkened museum very little moonlight creeps in. A gold-plated plaque on the surface of the case is a bit easier to read. It recounts a short history of fowl hunting in the region and then speculates, abruptly, about the nature of addiction.
I wish the game would elaborate on that, but it doesn't.
Conway walks out of the museum.
A sign in front of the building just reads "Museum." The lights are off, but the front door is open.
We drive away.
What was that about a burning tree showing the way to the Marquez estate? (If you can still recall the plot, that is.)
Ah, here it is.
In the next update, we'll see if Conway can be relied on for such an easy task as delivering an old TV set.
Last edited:
Andyman Messiah
Mr. Ed-ucated
And so we are at the Marquez Farmhouse.
(CONWAY rubs Blue's belly.)
CONWAY: Pretty dark out here, huh?
...
CONWAY: Maybe you'd better stay down here where it's lit.
The fog is thick and there's just one weak lamp here, so we can't make out the house from here. Let's just climb the path, then.
We spot a small graveyard close to the path.
I wonder if the Marquez still live here.
Let there be light.
CONWAY: No, I've never been here before.
WEAVER: I know. It must seem very strange to you. I was here when this house was built, so it's never been strange to me.
There used to be another house here. But we had it destroyed. And we built this one. It was very expensive and we got quite under water.
Once a mathematician, always a mathematician.
WEAVER: Oh, you're lost. And that old blind man sent you, is that right? Of course he did. He's nice. Did he say anything nice about me? Did he send along a gift?
He said you were too smart to watch TV.
> He asked me to return this TV set of yours.
And set it up we do.
CONWAY: Ma thought she heard ghosts in the static.
WEAVER: I know about that. She was ill, wasn't she? Mentally, I mean. Kind of distant, fearful?
Fearful, yeah. That's a way to put it.
> No, things just had to be a certain way.
No, just expressive.
:nazimom:
WEAVER: No, you have it all backwards. I'm not surprised; are you? Have you been paying attention? I don't think you have.
It's time to start paying attention now, Conway. Look closely at the television.
And so we look closely... at the barn in the background.
I'm sure whatever the TV shows isn't important anyway.
CONWAY: What do you keep out in that barn?
WEAVER: Used to be tools and feed. Then books. Now, I think it's mostly spiders.
CONWAY: Your cousin?
WEAVER: That's my father's brother's daughter, Shannon. We're about the same age. Well, used to be. She's older now.
I think that's only supposed to make sense if Weaver's dead.
WEAVER: She had a workshop up north a ways, by the lake. Right where Peonia and Wax road meet. It's a big bait and tackle shop, and she fixes TVs in the back. Do you like fishing?
Honestly, I'm not convinced you should bother with the Zero; I'd much rather you find my cousin and fix my TV. But I'll get you headed the right way.
WEAVER: Nice to know you, Conway. Keep your eyes open. Especially in the dark!
What do you mean, especially in the dark?
Oh, nevermind then.
(A disused wood-burning stove is set up in one ash-dusted corner of the room. It's cold to the touch.)
(An abandoned spiderweb stretches across the bottom of a saucepan. A skillet is seasoned with dust.)
Thought as much.
Back to the truck we go.
As we depart, there's a song playing in the foreground.
(CONWAY rubs Blue's belly.)
CONWAY: Pretty dark out here, huh?
...
CONWAY: Maybe you'd better stay down here where it's lit.
The fog is thick and there's just one weak lamp here, so we can't make out the house from here. Let's just climb the path, then.
We spot a small graveyard close to the path.
I wonder if the Marquez still live here.
Let there be light.
CONWAY: No, I've never been here before.
WEAVER: I know. It must seem very strange to you. I was here when this house was built, so it's never been strange to me.
There used to be another house here. But we had it destroyed. And we built this one. It was very expensive and we got quite under water.
Once a mathematician, always a mathematician.
WEAVER: Oh, you're lost. And that old blind man sent you, is that right? Of course he did. He's nice. Did he say anything nice about me? Did he send along a gift?
He said you were too smart to watch TV.
> He asked me to return this TV set of yours.
And set it up we do.
CONWAY: Ma thought she heard ghosts in the static.
WEAVER: I know about that. She was ill, wasn't she? Mentally, I mean. Kind of distant, fearful?
Fearful, yeah. That's a way to put it.
> No, things just had to be a certain way.
No, just expressive.
:nazimom:
WEAVER: No, you have it all backwards. I'm not surprised; are you? Have you been paying attention? I don't think you have.
It's time to start paying attention now, Conway. Look closely at the television.
And so we look closely... at the barn in the background.
I'm sure whatever the TV shows isn't important anyway.
Suddenly, horses!
CONWAY: What do you keep out in that barn?
WEAVER: Used to be tools and feed. Then books. Now, I think it's mostly spiders.
CONWAY: Your cousin?
WEAVER: That's my father's brother's daughter, Shannon. We're about the same age. Well, used to be. She's older now.
I think that's only supposed to make sense if Weaver's dead.
WEAVER: She had a workshop up north a ways, by the lake. Right where Peonia and Wax road meet. It's a big bait and tackle shop, and she fixes TVs in the back. Do you like fishing?
Honestly, I'm not convinced you should bother with the Zero; I'd much rather you find my cousin and fix my TV. But I'll get you headed the right way.
WEAVER: Nice to know you, Conway. Keep your eyes open. Especially in the dark!
What do you mean, especially in the dark?
Oh, nevermind then.
(A disused wood-burning stove is set up in one ash-dusted corner of the room. It's cold to the touch.)
(An abandoned spiderweb stretches across the bottom of a saucepan. A skillet is seasoned with dust.)
Thought as much.
Back to the truck we go.
As we depart, there's a song playing in the foreground.
Last edited:
procrastinator
Arcane
- Joined
- May 10, 2011
- Messages
- 1,059
Kinda has this surreal Monkey Island feeling to it, except more srs.
Fixing the TV at Shannon's workshop. Right where Peonia and Wax road meet. Do you like fishing?
(Of course, we're still trying to find Route Zero. Baby steps.)
JOSEPH: Huh. Now... you say you met her? She was there?
Why so surprised, Joseph? Could it be because Weaver is dead?
> Just for a minute, then she left suddenly.
Yeah she was there. You're surprised?
JOSEPH: OK. I guess she had somewhere to be. I wouldn't take it personally. It's good that you met her.
I knew the Marquez family years ago, when Weaver was a young girl, and her parents were studying local folk songs. Smart family. Well, some of them are smart, and the rest are wise, if you know what I mean.
Hey, if you see Weaver Marquez again ... tell her I'm sorry about her aunt and uncle, and I hope I'll be seeing her soon.
Many thanks.
It doesn't look like Joseph thinks he's got a lot left to live.
You must be also wondering if our protagonist himself is even alive at this point. (Remember the awful truck crash from earlier?) I'll leave it up for you to decide.
Let's try to find the workshop, anyway.
Conway pulls into the bait shop parking lot.
To the shop's right, a dirt parking lot sprawls unevenly into grass and then eventually trees.
The bait shop is open.
Enter the bait shop.
> Read the flyer.
Drive away.
Computer-printed type in a bold font surrounds a clipart illustration of a TV set. The TV has eyes, arms, and legs. Its shoulders are slouched. On the screen is a cartoon expression of exhausted nausea. A hot water bottle rests against its wire antenna.
Conway enters the bait shop.
Narrow aisles crowded with lures, reels, rods, and snacks divide the shop lengthwise from the entrance to the cashier's counter. The left wall is lined with churning tanks of water.
> Look into the tanks.
Approach the counter.
Conway approaches the tanks.
Conway reaches into the first tank.
Conway's hand brushes against something roughly the size of his palm.
Ew.
> Reach deeper into the tank.
Conway reaches into the second tank.
Conway's fingers slip through something fleshy but inert. The sensation is nauseating.
> Reach deeper into the tank.
Conway reaches deeper into the tank.
As his elbow passes into the pinkish mass, he realizes he's about to be sick from the smell, and pulls away.
> Reach into the third tank.
Conway reaches into the third tank.
The water seems to tremble with fire. Conway can't tell if his hand is being nibbled by fish or massaged by the artificial current. As his eyes near the surface of the water, he can see something colorful glowing faintly at the bottom of the tank.
> Reach deeper into the tank.
Conway reaches deeper into the tank.
A tremor spreads from his elbow out to his fingertips, and up to the base of his shoulder. His vision flickers. The water is running warm, under his skin now, and he has the sensation that something is about to snap. His eyes close.
His boss, Ira, yells from the idling truck below. He shades his eyes with his hand. A beer would be good. It's barely past noon, but he's worked a full day already ... what could the harm be? Maybe a shot at the counter, just to get his eyes open. Then a beer. He could offer to drive into town for lunch, and stop at that place on Cumberland --
The cashier pushes Conway roughly on the shoulder. He's been talking, yelling maybe, but it's all an echo now.
Conway looks up, his neck stiff with pain, his right palm still tingling. The cashier points to the tank, then above it to a few holes torn in the wall; nail holes from which an electric sign has come dislodged and fallen into the water. He helps Conway to his feet, looks at him pitifully, and returns to the cash register.
We're pretty pathetic, yeah.
> Approach the counter
Conway approaches the counter.
A wiry cashier stands behind the register, preoccupied with a sudoku puzzle.
Ask about Shannon Marquez's workshop.
> Ask about the basketball game.
Walk away.
Conway asks about the basketball game.
The cashier switches on the radio. An AM sports broadcast is playing, but Conway can't be sure if it's meant to answer or to drown out his questions.
> Ask about Shannon Marquez's workshop.
Ask about the basketball game.
Walk away.
After a few moments with no answer, he notices a smaller note written on the sign, reads it, then points it out to Conway.
Conway reads the note on the workshop door.
"Weaver. I got your message. Have left for the old mine. Don't know if I will see you there or what. Ready either way.
- Shannon"
Conway leaves the shop.
Conway drives away.
Next stop: the old mine.
CONWAY: How's it going, Blue?
...
CONWAY: Huh. Not sure that lady was right about the onramp to the Zero being here.
...
CONWAY: I guess you just can't tell with some folks. They're liable to run you around just for kicks.
...
We enter the mine --
-- and take control of Shannon Weaver.
SHANNON: Yeah, it kind of is an emergency.
PHONE: (Inaudible.)
SHANNON: Yes, and I appreciate that, but --
PHONE: (Inaudible.)
SHANNON: Ok. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Love you.
(SHANNON hangs up the phone and puts it away.)
Shannon is the protagonist at the moment, and we are the Stranger (accompanied by a strange dog, to boot).
CONWAY: Well, let's see... I do believe a place can be haunted, if that's what you mean.
CONWAY: Sure, I guess a person could. Sometimes I feel haunted myself.
SHANNON: What haunts you?
CONWAY: Uh ... bad decisions, I guess. Wasted youth. Ha. Well, look ...
Here's what it is: I drive deliveries for a shop called Lysette's Antiques, and I'm out trying to finish this job.
SHANNON: What kind of stuff are you hauling?
CONWAY: I had a delivery for "5 Dogwood Drive", and I can't remember ever seeing that address before. Now I heard I need to take a highway called the Zero.
So I met this young lady, name of Weaver Marquez, and she sent me this way, and so here I am. Uncommon kind of place for an onramp, but that's what it's been like so far anyway with --
SHANNON: What?
CONWAY: Weaver Marquez. You know her?
SHANNON: That's right. Did she tell you that, too? Of course she did.
I was angry, but she said it wasn't a joke, and it wasn't a lie. At the time I thought she meant it as a riddle or a puzzle.
But Weaver's not a puzzle. She's a mystery.
So, maybe the Zero is down here somewhere.
> So, what are you doing down here, Shannon?
Where did you see Weaver?
> What are you looking for?
SHANNON: I'm not exactly sure. I have a few ideas ... I'll know it when I see it.
It's not such a bad thing, you showing up now. All told, I'd rather not go down there alone. Your dog should stay up here, though. It's no place for a dog.
This is an old mine. It runs pretty deep and tangled. If we're going to go down into it, find your onramp and whatever else, we've got to keep our bearings. I don't want to get turned around.
SHANNON: Topology. That's the science of continuous space, my friend. The way this twisty maze of passages fits together.
I guess you could call it that.
Anyway, time to explore on.
(Of course, we're still trying to find Route Zero. Baby steps.)
JOSEPH: Huh. Now... you say you met her? She was there?
Why so surprised, Joseph? Could it be because Weaver is dead?
> Just for a minute, then she left suddenly.
Yeah she was there. You're surprised?
JOSEPH: OK. I guess she had somewhere to be. I wouldn't take it personally. It's good that you met her.
I knew the Marquez family years ago, when Weaver was a young girl, and her parents were studying local folk songs. Smart family. Well, some of them are smart, and the rest are wise, if you know what I mean.
Hey, if you see Weaver Marquez again ... tell her I'm sorry about her aunt and uncle, and I hope I'll be seeing her soon.
Many thanks.
It doesn't look like Joseph thinks he's got a lot left to live.
You must be also wondering if our protagonist himself is even alive at this point. (Remember the awful truck crash from earlier?) I'll leave it up for you to decide.
Let's try to find the workshop, anyway.
Conway pulls into the bait shop parking lot.
To the shop's right, a dirt parking lot sprawls unevenly into grass and then eventually trees.
The bait shop is open.
Enter the bait shop.
> Read the flyer.
Drive away.
Computer-printed type in a bold font surrounds a clipart illustration of a TV set. The TV has eyes, arms, and legs. Its shoulders are slouched. On the screen is a cartoon expression of exhausted nausea. A hot water bottle rests against its wire antenna.
Conway enters the bait shop.
Narrow aisles crowded with lures, reels, rods, and snacks divide the shop lengthwise from the entrance to the cashier's counter. The left wall is lined with churning tanks of water.
> Look into the tanks.
Approach the counter.
Conway approaches the tanks.
Conway reaches into the first tank.
Conway's hand brushes against something roughly the size of his palm.
Ew.
> Reach deeper into the tank.
Conway reaches into the second tank.
Conway's fingers slip through something fleshy but inert. The sensation is nauseating.
> Reach deeper into the tank.
Conway reaches deeper into the tank.
As his elbow passes into the pinkish mass, he realizes he's about to be sick from the smell, and pulls away.
> Reach into the third tank.
Conway reaches into the third tank.
The water seems to tremble with fire. Conway can't tell if his hand is being nibbled by fish or massaged by the artificial current. As his eyes near the surface of the water, he can see something colorful glowing faintly at the bottom of the tank.
> Reach deeper into the tank.
Conway reaches deeper into the tank.
A tremor spreads from his elbow out to his fingertips, and up to the base of his shoulder. His vision flickers. The water is running warm, under his skin now, and he has the sensation that something is about to snap. His eyes close.
His boss, Ira, yells from the idling truck below. He shades his eyes with his hand. A beer would be good. It's barely past noon, but he's worked a full day already ... what could the harm be? Maybe a shot at the counter, just to get his eyes open. Then a beer. He could offer to drive into town for lunch, and stop at that place on Cumberland --
The cashier pushes Conway roughly on the shoulder. He's been talking, yelling maybe, but it's all an echo now.
Conway looks up, his neck stiff with pain, his right palm still tingling. The cashier points to the tank, then above it to a few holes torn in the wall; nail holes from which an electric sign has come dislodged and fallen into the water. He helps Conway to his feet, looks at him pitifully, and returns to the cash register.
We're pretty pathetic, yeah.
> Approach the counter
Conway approaches the counter.
A wiry cashier stands behind the register, preoccupied with a sudoku puzzle.
Ask about Shannon Marquez's workshop.
> Ask about the basketball game.
Walk away.
Conway asks about the basketball game.
The cashier switches on the radio. An AM sports broadcast is playing, but Conway can't be sure if it's meant to answer or to drown out his questions.
> Ask about Shannon Marquez's workshop.
Ask about the basketball game.
Walk away.
After a few moments with no answer, he notices a smaller note written on the sign, reads it, then points it out to Conway.
Conway reads the note on the workshop door.
"Weaver. I got your message. Have left for the old mine. Don't know if I will see you there or what. Ready either way.
- Shannon"
Conway leaves the shop.
Conway drives away.
Next stop: the old mine.
CONWAY: How's it going, Blue?
...
CONWAY: Huh. Not sure that lady was right about the onramp to the Zero being here.
...
CONWAY: I guess you just can't tell with some folks. They're liable to run you around just for kicks.
...
We enter the mine --
-- and take control of Shannon Weaver.
SHANNON: Yeah, it kind of is an emergency.
PHONE: (Inaudible.)
SHANNON: Yes, and I appreciate that, but --
PHONE: (Inaudible.)
SHANNON: Ok. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Love you.
(SHANNON hangs up the phone and puts it away.)
Shannon is the protagonist at the moment, and we are the Stranger (accompanied by a strange dog, to boot).
CONWAY: Well, let's see... I do believe a place can be haunted, if that's what you mean.
CONWAY: Sure, I guess a person could. Sometimes I feel haunted myself.
SHANNON: What haunts you?
CONWAY: Uh ... bad decisions, I guess. Wasted youth. Ha. Well, look ...
Here's what it is: I drive deliveries for a shop called Lysette's Antiques, and I'm out trying to finish this job.
SHANNON: What kind of stuff are you hauling?
CONWAY: I had a delivery for "5 Dogwood Drive", and I can't remember ever seeing that address before. Now I heard I need to take a highway called the Zero.
So I met this young lady, name of Weaver Marquez, and she sent me this way, and so here I am. Uncommon kind of place for an onramp, but that's what it's been like so far anyway with --
SHANNON: What?
CONWAY: Weaver Marquez. You know her?
SHANNON: That's right. Did she tell you that, too? Of course she did.
I was angry, but she said it wasn't a joke, and it wasn't a lie. At the time I thought she meant it as a riddle or a puzzle.
But Weaver's not a puzzle. She's a mystery.
So, maybe the Zero is down here somewhere.
> So, what are you doing down here, Shannon?
Where did you see Weaver?
> What are you looking for?
SHANNON: I'm not exactly sure. I have a few ideas ... I'll know it when I see it.
It's not such a bad thing, you showing up now. All told, I'd rather not go down there alone. Your dog should stay up here, though. It's no place for a dog.
This is an old mine. It runs pretty deep and tangled. If we're going to go down into it, find your onramp and whatever else, we've got to keep our bearings. I don't want to get turned around.
SHANNON: Topology. That's the science of continuous space, my friend. The way this twisty maze of passages fits together.
I guess you could call it that.
Anyway, time to explore on.
Previously on Kentucky Route Zero, we were off to explore the old mine with Shannon.
The lighting is really cool inside the mine.
SHANNON: Oh, there's no power. Yeah, OK. Even when this old mine was up and running it was tricky to keep stuff powered.
You know, the miners used to have to pay just to run the fans and know the lights? Yeah, they got paid in these shitty plastic tokens -- coal scrip, you know? And if you want to run the fans for a bit to clear the air up, well, you have to put a token in.
My parents used to work here. So did Weaver's parents. I guess a lot of folks' parents worked here...
So let's just head into the mine and see what we see.
> Can we power it up?
SHANNON: I heard the speakers back here crackle a bit; it's on now, right? Try saying something into the mouthpiece.
> (Into P.A.) Well ...
(Into P.A.) ...
SHANNON: OK, I hear you ...
CONWAY: (Scrapes a coin across the mouthpiece.)
CONWAY: (Knocks on the table.)
> CONWAY: (Hums a deep tone into the mouthpiece.)
SHANNON: Damn, that's a long delay! These tunnels run deep. I bet some of them have ruptured or joined up with a cave system.
Alright, I set up my spectrum analyzer, so just say something into the mouthpiece and we can get a sense for how narrow the mine tunnels are.
Don't be shy, just say anything that comes into your head. Tell me a story about something -- or what did you have for breakfast today?
Here is a story. I used to work doing roof repair.
> I had breakfast with Lysette.
> She talked about her late husband, Ira.
We talked about the day's work.
We listened to the radio.
Then she cleared the table.
Then I loaded the truck.
> Then we just sat there for a bit.
SHANNON: ... got it. Looks like the tunnels are pretty cramped ... Yeah, low ceilings, hope you're ready to stoop a bit! Eh, you're probably used to it.
One more test. We just need to know if the air is breatheable, or if it's too thin, or too dense. Just sit real close to the mouthpiece and breathe.
I'll measure the resonance of your breath with the air in the tunnels. Just try to relax. Try to breathe naturally.
> CONWAY: (Breathes, and thinks about the road.)
CONWAY: (Breathes, and thinks about resting.)
> CONWAY: (Breathes, and remembers a moment earlier in the day.)
CONWAY: (Breathes, and remembers a moment when he was younger.)
SHANNON: Getting some pretty strong readings here. I think we're in good shape, but keep at it for a minute!
CONWAY: (Breathes, and visualizes a hot meal.)
> CONWAY: (Breathes, and visualizes a cold drink.)
(CONWAY breathes and relaxes, as a peal of feedback and loose rock engulfs him.)
Fade to black.
SHANNON: Shit. OK, I'm going to pull you out; we have to get you out of here.
...
SHANNON: Just try to stand up. Careful. I'm right here.
Damn! Don't worry, I've got you. That leg is in bad shape.
Here, let's get you onto the tram.
There you go. Now, let's see if this thing has power.
SHANNON: We'll just find the exit, and then figure out what to do from there. That's our first priority.
So. The controls are over there on your side. Let's get moving.
We get to control the tram now.
The animations and lighting are pretty cool, like I said.
CONWAY: How did that happen?
SHANNON: Some careless miner or some unattended machine bored through into an underground lake.
The water came in pretty fast, and a lot of folks got trapped in the tunnels. I only heard parts of how it went from there -- sanitized for the bereaved ... you know how these big companies are.
But there was this gossip too. The trapped miners couldn't get the pumps going because the power was rationed, so they shut all the lights off. But even then it wasn't enough.
SHANNON: We all lost people down here. Well, not all of us. But most of us.
It doesn't matter now. Look, this old turntable is still wired up. The controls are dead but I can use my signal generator to switch tracks, if the water hasn't damaged it too much. Or we can just keep heading down this tunnel.
(SHANNON connects two clip leads from her signal generator to the turntable's electrical panel.)
Three tracks, three possible paths to follow. We choose the first one.
(A dusty reel-to-reel tape player is stashed beneath the track, loaded with tape but starved for power.)
SHANNON: Oh. I didn't know those were still down here.
> What was that?
You've been down here before?
SHANNON: Look, there's a tape player down there, one of those old reel-to-reel setups.
When this mine was active, a couple of folk music archivists spent time here recording miners' songs. Really academic, ivory tower types. None of the miners really talked to them much.
So they stayed at the margins, observed, took notes, and then sometimes they'd get someone on a lunch break to sing into their microphone.
Then I guess the power company got some kind of interest in the project, and gave the archivists some coal scrip tokens to pay the miners with for their songs.
Did your parents sing?
> What happened to the archivists?
SHANNON: They got out. When the flood came, they left.
Looks like a dead end.
Heading back now -- and then onto the second path.
The tracks are broken. Dead end again.
Time to take the third path.
SHANNON: Yeah, OK. I just ... That tunnel, where the tracks were broken. I'd like to take a look down there.
We get a choice between controlling Conway or Shannon. I go for Shannon.
CONWAY: Sure, OK. I'll be right here.
FADE TO BLACK --
-- and we're back to controlling Conway, who exits the mine. (How did the truck get here? Or did we just really exit the mine right where we entered it earlier?)
Who knows what Shannon's reaction was to those miner's helmets.
On a small desk in the middle of the room lay three notebooks. The red one is labeled "J. Marquez", the green one is labeled "R. Marquez", and the blue one is unlabeled.
> Open the red notebook.
Open the green notebook.
Open the blue notebook.
Conway opens the red notebook.
Conway opens the green notebook.
On each page is a delicately-rendered charcoal drawing. Most are portraits of rugged faces. Near the middle of the book, there are a few drawings of a young girl in a miner's helmet. She plays along the minecart tracks, collecting pieces of wire. In one drawing, another girl sits nearby, intently studying a book.
> Open the blue notebook.
Conway opens the blue notebook.
The notebook is full of greek letters and cryptic mathematical formulas. Near the back of the book, what first looks like it might be ---
Suddenly, Shannon appears.
SHANNON: No. Weaver's parents are the archivists. My parents were miners.
... How's the leg?
CONWAY: I can walk on it, but it's slow.
SHANNON: Well, I'll try not to get too far ahead of you. You don't mind my hitching a ride, do you? I kinda got a lift out here, and wasn't sure if, uh -- when I'd be heading back. I can drive.
> I can handle it.
Yeah, maybe that's best.
SHANNON: OK. Your decision.
> I still need to find the Zero.
I guess I should look for another route to Dogwood Drive.
I saw Weaver at my workshop. That's up north by Lake Nolin, right at Wax and Peonia, in the back of a bait shop. Pretty glamorous, right? These are the times we live in.
She's either up there or back at the farmhouse. Whichever you want to head first, just let me know.
We'll keep that in mind.
In the meantime, let's introduce Blue to Shannon.
> SHANNON: Nice to meet you, Blue.
SHANNON: I never had a dog.
> SHANNON: I've got some dried banana slices in my bag, would you like one?
SHANNON: Do you help with the driving?
SHANNON: I don't really like them anyway.
> SHANNON: Take care of your friend here, and there's more where that came from.
> CONWAY: Did you take a nap?
Did you find any rabbits?
There are now two, or even three, of us. So off we drive.
The lighting is really cool inside the mine.
SHANNON: Oh, there's no power. Yeah, OK. Even when this old mine was up and running it was tricky to keep stuff powered.
You know, the miners used to have to pay just to run the fans and know the lights? Yeah, they got paid in these shitty plastic tokens -- coal scrip, you know? And if you want to run the fans for a bit to clear the air up, well, you have to put a token in.
My parents used to work here. So did Weaver's parents. I guess a lot of folks' parents worked here...
So let's just head into the mine and see what we see.
> Can we power it up?
SHANNON: I heard the speakers back here crackle a bit; it's on now, right? Try saying something into the mouthpiece.
> (Into P.A.) Well ...
(Into P.A.) ...
SHANNON: OK, I hear you ...
CONWAY: (Scrapes a coin across the mouthpiece.)
CONWAY: (Knocks on the table.)
> CONWAY: (Hums a deep tone into the mouthpiece.)
SHANNON: Damn, that's a long delay! These tunnels run deep. I bet some of them have ruptured or joined up with a cave system.
Alright, I set up my spectrum analyzer, so just say something into the mouthpiece and we can get a sense for how narrow the mine tunnels are.
Don't be shy, just say anything that comes into your head. Tell me a story about something -- or what did you have for breakfast today?
Here is a story. I used to work doing roof repair.
> I had breakfast with Lysette.
> She talked about her late husband, Ira.
We talked about the day's work.
We listened to the radio.
Then she cleared the table.
Then I loaded the truck.
> Then we just sat there for a bit.
SHANNON: ... got it. Looks like the tunnels are pretty cramped ... Yeah, low ceilings, hope you're ready to stoop a bit! Eh, you're probably used to it.
One more test. We just need to know if the air is breatheable, or if it's too thin, or too dense. Just sit real close to the mouthpiece and breathe.
I'll measure the resonance of your breath with the air in the tunnels. Just try to relax. Try to breathe naturally.
> CONWAY: (Breathes, and thinks about the road.)
CONWAY: (Breathes, and thinks about resting.)
> CONWAY: (Breathes, and remembers a moment earlier in the day.)
CONWAY: (Breathes, and remembers a moment when he was younger.)
SHANNON: Getting some pretty strong readings here. I think we're in good shape, but keep at it for a minute!
CONWAY: (Breathes, and visualizes a hot meal.)
> CONWAY: (Breathes, and visualizes a cold drink.)
(CONWAY breathes and relaxes, as a peal of feedback and loose rock engulfs him.)
Fade to black.
SHANNON: Shit. OK, I'm going to pull you out; we have to get you out of here.
...
SHANNON: Just try to stand up. Careful. I'm right here.
Damn! Don't worry, I've got you. That leg is in bad shape.
Here, let's get you onto the tram.
There you go. Now, let's see if this thing has power.
SHANNON: We'll just find the exit, and then figure out what to do from there. That's our first priority.
So. The controls are over there on your side. Let's get moving.
We get to control the tram now.
The animations and lighting are pretty cool, like I said.
CONWAY: How did that happen?
SHANNON: Some careless miner or some unattended machine bored through into an underground lake.
The water came in pretty fast, and a lot of folks got trapped in the tunnels. I only heard parts of how it went from there -- sanitized for the bereaved ... you know how these big companies are.
But there was this gossip too. The trapped miners couldn't get the pumps going because the power was rationed, so they shut all the lights off. But even then it wasn't enough.
SHANNON: We all lost people down here. Well, not all of us. But most of us.
It doesn't matter now. Look, this old turntable is still wired up. The controls are dead but I can use my signal generator to switch tracks, if the water hasn't damaged it too much. Or we can just keep heading down this tunnel.
(SHANNON connects two clip leads from her signal generator to the turntable's electrical panel.)
Three tracks, three possible paths to follow. We choose the first one.
(A dusty reel-to-reel tape player is stashed beneath the track, loaded with tape but starved for power.)
SHANNON: Oh. I didn't know those were still down here.
> What was that?
You've been down here before?
SHANNON: Look, there's a tape player down there, one of those old reel-to-reel setups.
When this mine was active, a couple of folk music archivists spent time here recording miners' songs. Really academic, ivory tower types. None of the miners really talked to them much.
So they stayed at the margins, observed, took notes, and then sometimes they'd get someone on a lunch break to sing into their microphone.
Then I guess the power company got some kind of interest in the project, and gave the archivists some coal scrip tokens to pay the miners with for their songs.
Did your parents sing?
> What happened to the archivists?
SHANNON: They got out. When the flood came, they left.
Looks like a dead end.
Heading back now -- and then onto the second path.
The tracks are broken. Dead end again.
Time to take the third path.
SHANNON: Yeah, OK. I just ... That tunnel, where the tracks were broken. I'd like to take a look down there.
We get a choice between controlling Conway or Shannon. I go for Shannon.
CONWAY: Sure, OK. I'll be right here.
FADE TO BLACK --
-- and we're back to controlling Conway, who exits the mine. (How did the truck get here? Or did we just really exit the mine right where we entered it earlier?)
Who knows what Shannon's reaction was to those miner's helmets.
On a small desk in the middle of the room lay three notebooks. The red one is labeled "J. Marquez", the green one is labeled "R. Marquez", and the blue one is unlabeled.
> Open the red notebook.
Open the green notebook.
Open the blue notebook.
Conway opens the red notebook.
Conway opens the green notebook.
On each page is a delicately-rendered charcoal drawing. Most are portraits of rugged faces. Near the middle of the book, there are a few drawings of a young girl in a miner's helmet. She plays along the minecart tracks, collecting pieces of wire. In one drawing, another girl sits nearby, intently studying a book.
> Open the blue notebook.
Conway opens the blue notebook.
The notebook is full of greek letters and cryptic mathematical formulas. Near the back of the book, what first looks like it might be ---
Suddenly, Shannon appears.
SHANNON: No. Weaver's parents are the archivists. My parents were miners.
... How's the leg?
CONWAY: I can walk on it, but it's slow.
SHANNON: Well, I'll try not to get too far ahead of you. You don't mind my hitching a ride, do you? I kinda got a lift out here, and wasn't sure if, uh -- when I'd be heading back. I can drive.
> I can handle it.
Yeah, maybe that's best.
SHANNON: OK. Your decision.
> I still need to find the Zero.
I guess I should look for another route to Dogwood Drive.
I saw Weaver at my workshop. That's up north by Lake Nolin, right at Wax and Peonia, in the back of a bait shop. Pretty glamorous, right? These are the times we live in.
She's either up there or back at the farmhouse. Whichever you want to head first, just let me know.
We'll keep that in mind.
In the meantime, let's introduce Blue to Shannon.
> SHANNON: Nice to meet you, Blue.
SHANNON: I never had a dog.
> SHANNON: I've got some dried banana slices in my bag, would you like one?
SHANNON: Do you help with the driving?
SHANNON: I don't really like them anyway.
> SHANNON: Take care of your friend here, and there's more where that came from.
> CONWAY: Did you take a nap?
Did you find any rabbits?
There are now two, or even three, of us. So off we drive.
procrastinator
Arcane
- Joined
- May 10, 2011
- Messages
- 1,059
Great atmosphere, really.
We climb into the truck and get moving.
First let's revisit Equus Oils and see if we can get any new dialogue from Joseph.
Indeed we can.
JOSEPH: Oho! That sounds like one of the Marquez ladies. Well, I know it's not Remedios -- she's back out in Knoxville these days -- so ...
SHANNON: It's not great.
JOSEPH: No, I guess it isn't. Hell, they got me working days and nights! But at least people still need gas.
Kinda different in your line of work, isn't it? Well, I'm sure they'll come around. Maybe some old TV show will get popular, and everyone will want old TVs again.
SHANNON: That's not really ... how it works.
> SHANNON: Yeah. Maybe.
We go easy on old Joseph.
And let him be.
Next stop: Shannon's workshop.
Conway and Shannon pull into the bait shop parking lot.
Vaulted above the road on a thin steel bar, a handwritten sign reads "LIVE BAIT. MINNOWS SMALL AND ALSO LARGE FOR STRIPERS. NIGHTCRAWLERS. CHIPS AND BEER." A green flyer hangs loosely from a bit of masking tape at eye-level.
To the shop's right, a dirt parking lot sprawls unevenly into grass and then eventually trees.
Conway and Shannon walk in.
The walls are lined with cheap metal shelves, loaded precariously with vacuum tubes, awkwardly-shaped metal casings, and coffee cans full of electronic components.
Conway asks Shannon where she saw Weaver.
Shannon points to a small security monitor on the table. The image on the screen is just black, but it seems to be fading slowly -- almost imperceptibly -- between different shades of black.
Shannon tweaks a few knobs on the side of the monitor, but the picture doesn't change.
> Stare at the security monitor.
Conway stares directly at the security monitor.
Shannon switches off the power strip. Weaver is not here.
No Weaver here. That means we're off to the Farmhouse now.
Climbing up the hill.
We have a new option to check out the graveyard now that we have Shannon in our party.
Or it's art or something. I don't know.
A decorative graveyard?
> What are the names on the headstones?
Oh, and look at that headstone: "Marquez." I used to think that was for my parents. Now I don't know.
On this mysterious note, we enter the house.
(We're still limping, as you can probably see.)
SHANNON: So, this is where she was? Yeah, makes sense. This was where Weaver and her parents lived. They took out a bunch of loans, you know, and had this place built.
(Nitpicking on: compare that with the "I know when they bought this property it already had a house and everything" earlier. /nitpicking off)
SHANNON: Well, you're lucky that's all you owe.
My parents were like that. Until the company store found a way to get to them. For my dad it was tokens to run the fans and air purifiers, and for my mom it was canaries. Two solutions to the same problem, but they sure sounded different.
Weaver had debts, too -- a lot of it. All tuition.
How did she pay it off?
> She said she was a mathematician or something?
I think eventually Weaver put those math skills to work on all the red numbers in the family checkbook, and got a clear sense of just how hopeless their situation was.
So she left. I guess she just drove away in the middle of the night -- they woke up in the morning and the car was gone. Never came back.
Until tonight.
> Someone else told me to come here and talk to her.
She seemed really focused on that old TV.
Were you happy to see her?
SHANNON: Huh. OK. I guess we two aren't the only ones she's been talking to.
Suddenly Shannon notices the TV.
Say, do you mind if I open it up? Looks like the dials are all corroded, and the screen is leaking light a bit. Come on -- I bet Lysette would never forgive you for letting a specimen like that fall into disrepair.
If you say so, Shannon.
That's OK, I have a few spares in my bad here ... Here, I pulled this one out of an old computer monitor. Just needs to be recalibrated a bit ...
Ok, that oughta ... should be seeing something now; are you seeing anything?
> Hey that looks dangerous, what you're doing there.
Uh, little bit to the left ... ?
SHANNON: Damn, OK ... Here, I think the contacts are dirty. Now don't go telling my customers I clean off old vacuum tubes with spit ...
There, just gotta turn it north/south, and --
It's Route Zero!
First let's revisit Equus Oils and see if we can get any new dialogue from Joseph.
Indeed we can.
JOSEPH: Oho! That sounds like one of the Marquez ladies. Well, I know it's not Remedios -- she's back out in Knoxville these days -- so ...
SHANNON: It's not great.
JOSEPH: No, I guess it isn't. Hell, they got me working days and nights! But at least people still need gas.
Kinda different in your line of work, isn't it? Well, I'm sure they'll come around. Maybe some old TV show will get popular, and everyone will want old TVs again.
SHANNON: That's not really ... how it works.
> SHANNON: Yeah. Maybe.
We go easy on old Joseph.
And let him be.
Next stop: Shannon's workshop.
Conway and Shannon pull into the bait shop parking lot.
Vaulted above the road on a thin steel bar, a handwritten sign reads "LIVE BAIT. MINNOWS SMALL AND ALSO LARGE FOR STRIPERS. NIGHTCRAWLERS. CHIPS AND BEER." A green flyer hangs loosely from a bit of masking tape at eye-level.
To the shop's right, a dirt parking lot sprawls unevenly into grass and then eventually trees.
Conway and Shannon walk in.
The walls are lined with cheap metal shelves, loaded precariously with vacuum tubes, awkwardly-shaped metal casings, and coffee cans full of electronic components.
Conway asks Shannon where she saw Weaver.
Shannon points to a small security monitor on the table. The image on the screen is just black, but it seems to be fading slowly -- almost imperceptibly -- between different shades of black.
Shannon tweaks a few knobs on the side of the monitor, but the picture doesn't change.
> Stare at the security monitor.
Conway stares directly at the security monitor.
Shannon switches off the power strip. Weaver is not here.
No Weaver here. That means we're off to the Farmhouse now.
Climbing up the hill.
We have a new option to check out the graveyard now that we have Shannon in our party.
Or it's art or something. I don't know.
A decorative graveyard?
> What are the names on the headstones?
Oh, and look at that headstone: "Marquez." I used to think that was for my parents. Now I don't know.
On this mysterious note, we enter the house.
(We're still limping, as you can probably see.)
SHANNON: So, this is where she was? Yeah, makes sense. This was where Weaver and her parents lived. They took out a bunch of loans, you know, and had this place built.
(Nitpicking on: compare that with the "I know when they bought this property it already had a house and everything" earlier. /nitpicking off)
SHANNON: Well, you're lucky that's all you owe.
My parents were like that. Until the company store found a way to get to them. For my dad it was tokens to run the fans and air purifiers, and for my mom it was canaries. Two solutions to the same problem, but they sure sounded different.
Weaver had debts, too -- a lot of it. All tuition.
How did she pay it off?
> She said she was a mathematician or something?
I think eventually Weaver put those math skills to work on all the red numbers in the family checkbook, and got a clear sense of just how hopeless their situation was.
So she left. I guess she just drove away in the middle of the night -- they woke up in the morning and the car was gone. Never came back.
Until tonight.
> Someone else told me to come here and talk to her.
She seemed really focused on that old TV.
Were you happy to see her?
SHANNON: Huh. OK. I guess we two aren't the only ones she's been talking to.
Suddenly Shannon notices the TV.
Say, do you mind if I open it up? Looks like the dials are all corroded, and the screen is leaking light a bit. Come on -- I bet Lysette would never forgive you for letting a specimen like that fall into disrepair.
If you say so, Shannon.
That's OK, I have a few spares in my bad here ... Here, I pulled this one out of an old computer monitor. Just needs to be recalibrated a bit ...
Ok, that oughta ... should be seeing something now; are you seeing anything?
> Hey that looks dangerous, what you're doing there.
Uh, little bit to the left ... ?
SHANNON: Damn, OK ... Here, I think the contacts are dirty. Now don't go telling my customers I clean off old vacuum tubes with spit ...
There, just gotta turn it north/south, and --
It's Route Zero!
procrastinator
Arcane
- Joined
- May 10, 2011
- Messages
- 1,059
Shannon acts suspicious. I think you should dump her when opportunity arise. Can't trust a wimin.
Bump? 
While you're (all) waiting for Act II, here's a little tie-in performance for ya:
Kentucky Route Zero: The Entertainment
http://www.rpgcodex.net/forums/inde...or-junebug-lets-read-the-entertainment.88032/
Kentucky Route Zero: The Entertainment
http://www.rpgcodex.net/forums/inde...or-junebug-lets-read-the-entertainment.88032/
procrastinator
Arcane
- Joined
- May 10, 2011
- Messages
- 1,059
Bumpity bump.
Kentucky Route Zero: ACT II
LETTER: ATTN: Lula Chamberlain, RE: Your application.
We must be extremely selective in our process so as to maintain the level of standards we have established over our thirty-five years in operation. Our panel did not select your application.
We encourage you to consider re-applying next year. Many young artists and architects re-apply for a few successive years before being accepted.
Sincerely, Dr. Karl Stone-Norden, Architect, Gaston Trust for Imagined Architecture
(To herself, quietly) ATTN Dr. Stone-Norden, RE Your own imagination.
Thank you for your most informative letter. I was ecstatic to hear of your record-breaking success in receiving over 100 applications. What a triumph.
Yours, etc., Lula Chamberlain, Artist, Bureau of Reclaimed Spaces.
Oh, by the way. Carrington's here. You do remember him, don't you?
(CARRINGTON clears his throat.)
CARRINGTON: I apologize; I thought you were on the telephone. Are you busy?
> It's not important.
Just thinking out loud.
The clerk upstairs tells me you've been assigned to my proposal. I've heard nothing in weeks, and I assumed it had been swallowed up by some dragon of administration, but ...
LULA: (Interrupting) I've received your proposal, and I'm afraid it's impossible.
> (Silence)
CARRINGTON: I see. Of course, you're quite busy. I ... understand completely.
I'm sorry to have bothered you, Lula. I'll go now.
Oh, Lula. I thought you might like to know. I saw Joseph this evening just after sunset. We sat for a bit, drank some cold coffee, and talked about University days. Better days.
LULA: Maybe for him.
ICE COLD
Anyway, it looks like we're traveling the Zero now. Act I didn't lie!
I wonder what kind of place this is.
LETTER: ATTN: Lula Chamberlain, RE: Your application.
We must be extremely selective in our process so as to maintain the level of standards we have established over our thirty-five years in operation. Our panel did not select your application.
We encourage you to consider re-applying next year. Many young artists and architects re-apply for a few successive years before being accepted.
Sincerely, Dr. Karl Stone-Norden, Architect, Gaston Trust for Imagined Architecture
(To herself, quietly) ATTN Dr. Stone-Norden, RE Your own imagination.
Thank you for your most informative letter. I was ecstatic to hear of your record-breaking success in receiving over 100 applications. What a triumph.
Yours, etc., Lula Chamberlain, Artist, Bureau of Reclaimed Spaces.
Oh, by the way. Carrington's here. You do remember him, don't you?
(CARRINGTON clears his throat.)
CARRINGTON: I apologize; I thought you were on the telephone. Are you busy?
> It's not important.
Just thinking out loud.
The clerk upstairs tells me you've been assigned to my proposal. I've heard nothing in weeks, and I assumed it had been swallowed up by some dragon of administration, but ...
LULA: (Interrupting) I've received your proposal, and I'm afraid it's impossible.
> (Silence)
CARRINGTON: I see. Of course, you're quite busy. I ... understand completely.
I'm sorry to have bothered you, Lula. I'll go now.
Oh, Lula. I thought you might like to know. I saw Joseph this evening just after sunset. We sat for a bit, drank some cold coffee, and talked about University days. Better days.
LULA: Maybe for him.
ICE COLD
Anyway, it looks like we're traveling the Zero now. Act I didn't lie!
I wonder what kind of place this is.
procrastinator
Arcane
- Joined
- May 10, 2011
- Messages
- 1,059
Of course we do! *clicks on page one*
Gondolin
Arcane
Bump. Also: moar.
procrastinator
Arcane
- Joined
- May 10, 2011
- Messages
- 1,059
So, are we waiting for the next page or...?
...
> Yeah, I know you love a drive.
Sorry about all this walking.
...
I do too, usually.
> The wind in your ears. Yeah, I saw you back there, Blue!
SHANNON: I don't think the Zero operates like the roads we're used to. I don't understand it either.
So, what is this place?
SHANNON: Yeah, an office building in a cathedral.
This is weird, but ... do you think we're inside or outside right now?
Inside.
Outside.
> Both.
SHANNON: Ha. OK. Very poetic.
Well, maybe someone around here has a better sense of direction ...
We can also examine the barrier nearby.
SHANNON: End of the line?
> Seems that way.
Maybe it's still under construction.
SHANNON: Not for us, I hope.
MARY ANN: I'm actually pretty busy, but ... sure, what's up?
> SHANNON: Can you be both inside and outside at the same time?
CONWAY: Oh, it's nothing -- just a joke we had on the road.
MARY ANN: Wow, OK. Um. Is that, like, a philosophy thing? Or are you just lost?
SHANNON: Yeah, I guess it is a bit philosophical.
> CONWAY: We're just lost.
MARY ANN: You're lost. So you're not the ... sorry, honest mistake.
What are you celebrating?
> What do the boys from the distillery look like?
What is this place?
MARY ANN: You've never seen the boys from Hard Times? Well, count your blessings. They cut a grim profile.
Well, it's clear you're new to this territory. I expect you just mean to be passing through.
> CONWAY: We're looking for Dogwood Drive, do you know where that is?
SHANNON: That's the idea.
MARY ANN: Dogwood ... nope.
You're going to need to talk to someone upstairs about that. One of the map clerks. But first we've got to get you in the system, so you'll need an appointment with one of the ingestion clerks. Now, let's see ...
Rick is booked proofreading drafts all afternoon, and Wanda's out on a site ... Hmm ... Let me go make some calls and see if we have anyone free. There are some books over there in the waiting area. Or just take a look around.
Have you seen our grotesques?
We take a look around.
And then come back to Mary Ann.
MARY ANN: Oh, good. I thought you'd left. People can be so impatient; you never know.
The elevator is just back to the left there. Fifth floor.
All this talk about ingestion worries me, I admit.
And this must be the books Mary Ann was talking about.
(Three books are piled on the table: a service manual for a sewage pump, some architectural plans for a bungalow, and a slim collection of Japanese death haiku. An envelope is protruding from the bottom of the stack.)
> (Conway picks up the envelope.)
(Conway leaves the books.)
(The envelope reads BUREAU of SECRET TOURISM. It contains several small, handwritten brochures with ritualistic directions to bizarre locations.)
Mysterious.
Anyway, we take the elevator.
SHANNON: She's on the fifth floor, right?
Let's rather explore the floors one by one.
First floor.
RICK: Oh, no, she's much too busy. Let's get some of our junior clerks to sort your paperwork first, so we don't waste any of Ms. Chamberlain's time.
It's a pretty straightforward process. First, you'll need to get a case number assigned. Talk to Clerk Metzstein about that. She's just over there at the end of the room.
Happy to help!
Clerk Metzstein, you say?
CLERK METZSTEIN: Oh ... my sheet has give address boxes, and it says to fill everything out ...
Maybe if you fill out a "transient" sub-sheet, we can still get it processed. Go talk to Clerk Böhm and he'll get you set up with one.
Clerk Böhm is just over there in the corner. Happy to help.
Uh, okay?
CLERK BÖHM: Howdy. Here for a transient sheet? No problem.
(He rummages through some papers on his desk.)
... happy to help.
(He opens a few folders and quickly closes them.)
Um. Looks like I'm out, but I know there are some back in the archive. You'll have to put in a special request with Clerk MacMillan. She's the documents czar.
Straight back at the end of the office there, by the file cabinet.
OK.
CLERK MACMILLAN: Documents request?
> CONWAY: One "transient sub-sheet," please.
SHANNON: This is absurd. Where's Lula?
CLERK MACMILLAN: Happy to help. Please just put your requisition form in the inbox and I'll get to it as soon as possible.
> CONWAY: Requisition form?
SHANNON: This is absurd. Where's Lula?
CLERK MACMILLAN: Yes. You don't have one? Shouldn't be a problem: they're quite easy to fill out. Just ask Clerk Metzstein and she'll get you sorted.
CLERK METZSTEIN: Requisition form. No problem. I'll just need your ingestion card to mark it "outgoing" in my logbook.
Okay, I think that's enough of this.
CONWAY: I don't have an ingestion card yet.
> SHANNON: We're done here. Can you point us to Lula?
CLERK METZSTEIN: Oh, sure. That's her in the cardigan.
Wasn't she supposed to be on the fifth floor?
LULA: Having fun in the paperclip labyrinth? Well, you made it eventually.
LULA: This concrete bunker of an office is just a waypoint for you, I'm sure. Where is it you're trying to go?
> We're looking for "5 Dogwood Drive."
We're having trouble navigating the Zero.
But that Dogwood was a surface road. With a name like that, it would have to be. What are you doing on the Zero?
A "surface road?"
Oh well, whatever.
CONWAY: A gas station attendant told us we'd need to take the Zero to get there.
> SHANNON: My cousin, Weaver, sent us this way.
LULA: She came through here as an intern. One of my old colleagues must have referred her ... do you know, I never asked?
Anyway, there's not much challenging work here ... much less for a gifted mathematician. She helped translate some notes on architectural plans I picked up in Mexico. She was very bored. We used to sit on the steps by the river, on our lunch break, and talk about geometry.
I hope she wasn't in trouble. I lost touch with her so suddenly. I had recommended she go see some old friends of mine at the university about a new acoustic surveying venture. I often worry she became wrapped up in some tenured professor's quixotic research project. You know the type: gray-haired, intellectual, narcissistic ...
Well, that is ...
LULA: No, it's not possible.
The "Dogwood Drive" I lived on is now called "Pale Dogwood Drive." They've renamed all the streets, you see. Too many streets with the same names. It was never a problem before, but now we have these databases, and it's all too confusing for the computer.
The computer has no sense of ambiguity, so it proclaims an error. "Name collisions," they call them.
So my "Dogwood Drive," is "Pale Dogwood Drive," and another might be "Large-leafed Dogwood Drive," or "Himalayan Flowering Dogwood Drive," and so on. But one of them is still just "Dogwood Drive." Or so we might hope?
It's really a matter of consulting records, of which we have an abundance here ...
> Do you have a record of those streets?
Where's the computer?
You've been a great help, Lula.
But let's visit the second floor first.
This is a conference room. Nothing to interact with here.
Third floor it is, then.
Bears?
Bears indeed.
Let's see what's up there on the fifth floor before we visit the archives.
(GREG is hard at work examining some diagrams, measuring angles with a plastic protractor and occasionally scribbling numbers in a small leather notebook.)
GREG: Can I help you? Don't answer that.
I'm extremely busy with these charts. Maybe one of the clerks on the first floor can help you. They're probably just looking at cat pictures.
Alright, fourth floor: Archives and Records, then.
SHANNON: Damn, this place is a mess. OK.
Hmm ... take a look through that logbook, I guess? Maybe there's some kind of system to all these boxes. I'll just start digging.
NOTE IN LOGBOOK: Document staff: please do not transfer any more records from the storage unit until we get the new file cabinets in. We're up to F, and that will have to do for now.
> Page 1.
(Several documents relating to sporting competition venues were quickly checked out and back in over a period of a few days: basketball courts, baseball fields, alleys, and parking lots.)
> Page 14.
(A single set of documents relating to coal mining operations was checked out and back in by several different people within a few hours.)
> Inside back cover.
NOTE IN LOGBOOK: "Failing antique shops" folder missing? Listed checked in on pg. 63, but not present.
> Page 63.
LOGBOOK: Check-in: Failing antique shops. Monday 3 pm. Signee: Ed Bohm.
> Put the logbook away.
SHANNON: Nothing? Me neither. Half of these boxes aren't even labeled, and the rest are all from the first few letters of the alphabet. I couldn't find anything with an "O" or a "G" or an "S."
Maybe that clerk knows somewhere else we can look.
Maybe!
You see, we've only moved into this new venue somewhat recently, and it's all a bit in-progress. This was a cathedral not so long ago, can you believe it?
That's where you'll find the street name records, I expect. At the church. Mary Ann at reception can give you directions. Just come back here when you have the files, and we'll begin the necessary paperwork to have the information analyzed.
Oh, and while you're out on the road, you might want to stop and see Dr. Truman about your leg. He's a specialist regarding ailments of the joints and limbs, and I know he works at night. His home office is in a small neighborhood on the east edge of Bowling Green.
Here's his card. Do stop and see him. That leg is a miserable sight.
Take care of each other.
Oh-kay. We go back to Mary Ann.
MARY ANN: Just another office, lady. Just another job.
> SHANNON: But you kicked out a congregation to set up your office?
CONWAY: Lula said you could direct us to the church?
MARY ANN: I wasn't here for that. But, yeah, I get where you're coming from. Still, I wouldn't judge until I'd seen everything. They've got a new church now, the Bureau set it up for them out of some of their old storage space. I'm sure it's very nice.
Go see it for yourself.
Just get back on the Zero and drive until you hit the Crystal. Then turn around.
It'll make sense once you get on the road. You can handle it.
If you say so, Mary Ann.
Next time: we'll do just that.
procrastinator
Arcane
- Joined
- May 10, 2011
- Messages
- 1,059
clerks gonna clerk
procrastinator
Arcane
- Joined
- May 10, 2011
- Messages
- 1,059
I wonder what's going to happen next.
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