Ruster's Night Off

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Your wristcomp gives a cheerful series of beeps, and a scrolling bar of bright green text rolls over its screen. Oh right, it's your reminder: much to your chagrin, you were volun-TOLD to help fix things tonight. Last time you tell the smoking hot bartender that, why no, you have no plans. You sigh. Instead of a date, you're supposed to handle a couple of gigs for the big, gruff guy who fixes everything--Ruster--because the community's bullied him into getting a much needed doc check-up. Your wristcomp beeps louder. [[A call awaits.]]

You press the small screen to activate the audio. Ruster's gravelly voice crackles through, rougher than usual, tired, unmistakeably annoyed, and not directed at you. "...because *someone* thought a little cold--" A word emphasized by a series of coughs, "--was cause for alarm." In the background, you hear the local doc yelling indignantly, "It's not a cold! Hurry up and finish that call so you can get back to sleep!" Ruster mutters something you can't make out over the static. "Right, fine. Oh! Hey, backup fixer. Here's the deal: 3 jobs on the docket. Easy stuff, mostly. I don't want to have to redo anything so don't get fancy, don't make promises for me to keep, and *absolutely* don't let Fate talk you into 'optimizing' anything." He lowers his voice and continues, "Last time he hooked someone's trash can to a donation portal where people could pay to change its settings--'extra income', he said, for a trash can that just sat there freeloading before...now it randomly sings and flashes neon SOS strobe shows in the middle of the night." Sounds kind of fun to you, but Ruster continues grumbling about sleep cycles and you can't help but wonder if the 'someone' he referred to was himself. He sighs. "Anyway. You'll do fine. Nothing tonight is life-support critical, so--" His voice cuts off in another coughing fit. Another voice takes over the comm. The doctor, probably. "Alright, enough. Back to bed with you!" To you, they add, "Nothing against you, friend, I'm sure you know which part of a wrench is the handle, but our Below's resilient. Whatever you do or don't manage to fix tonight is fine, we just need someone to knock out the small stuff so that stubborn lug will get off his feet for a while. Job queue's already loaded to your wristcomp. Good luck!" The call disconnects, and you scroll through the green text that comes through. Three jobs are ready for your attention: [[Sector 89: Light Sculpture Glitching]] [[Sector 89: Common Room Door...Haunted(??)]] [[Sector 89: Vending Grid Full but Won't Dispense]] <<set $FixedJobs to 0>> <<set $Chaos to 0>> <<set $FateHelps to 0>>

<<if $VendSings is true>> You really didn't think the song would be this catchy, but for some reason, you can't get enough of the tunes from the vending machine you and Fate fixed. The steady beat is energizing, even with the harmonizing dog barks that eminate from it too. <</if>> <<if $VendDone is true>> Every child you pass is hyped up on sugar and smiles. When you pass their eyes round with awe and they wave at you as if you're a local legendary hero. These kids are loud and playing rowdy games for now, but you bet they'll sleep well tonight! [[Stop strolling and get another job done.|jobsboard]] <<else>> Ruster's flagged this job as one that may require some elbow grease. Riiight. How hard can it be to get a vending machine to spit out some candy bars? But when you arrive in the graffiti-tagged corridor, you're met with a horde of unhappy children. Two are trying to get kicks in on the machine in question as the battered Snackmatic LX (originally designed by the ONE conglomerate yet obviously repurposed by the neighborhood, for the neighborhood) whirls in one direction, then the other. Its kitsch coin slot moves in and out, and the slot where the sweets normally exit is slamming open and closed like the mouth of a hungry deepdark rat. It's also shrieking louder than the children: "NO KITSCH, NO CANDY! NO KITSCH, NO CANDY!" Whether this is a security protocol activated by lack of payment or a virus injection by some reckless hacker, there's nothing about this "broken" machine that screams 'elbow grease required' like you'd expected. If anything, it needs a priest, for an exorcism. [[Your wristcomp beeps.|VendingMsg]] <</if>>

<<if $LightDone is true>> You admire the bright gleam of the green and purple phallic symbol that lights up the street in all directions for...quite a ways. [[Stop strolling and get another job done.|jobsboard]] <<else>> You duck beneath bulky lengths of air vents and wires and follow the job directions to an alley that's lit up with an impressively enormous outline of an aubergine, in unholy shades of green and purple. No sooner do you come into full view than the glow threatens to burn your retinas out with a surge of power, and sparks shower outward around the curvy end of the sculpture. The whole set of tubes goes dark. [[Your wristcomp beeps.|LightMsg]] <</if>>

<<if $DoorFlirt is true>> Oh ho, you //are// door-curious after all! You vowed to yourself you'd tell no one of this adventure, but here you are again, wandering by the flirtatious foyer. <<else>> <</if>> <<if $DoorDone is true>> Sadly, for now, the door is unlocked and silent, appeased. [[You really should make sure to get all the jobs done...|jobsboard]] <<else>> You arrive at a series of apartments. Most places in the Below have rooftops, but some repurposed buildings, especially ones that may have once been corporate skyscraper basements, just kept right on going. This is one of them, 3 units to a floor stacked on top of each other like off-brand building blocks that never fit quite right, stabilized by its entire structure stretching from ceiling to floor of Sector 89, Level 5. Oddly, this one has an entrance on the "ground" floor that seems to lead to a collective space within the structure, one all of the apartment occupants can use, and it's the door to this area which has gathered a small audience. As you approach, the speaker gives a hiss of static. "ACCESS DENIED. Intruders will be met with strong discouragement." A tenant waves you over. "It locked us out this morning. We're not intruders--we live here! It's holding our mail and laundry hostage." The door huffs in disapproval as a teenager approaches one of the windows, trying to peer inside. "I am authorized to scold you mightily for snooping, young lady!" [[Your wristcomp beeps.|DoorMsg]] <</if>>

"How does it feel to have a giant neon eggplant greet you with a shower of approval, fixer-of-the-hour? It was just bursting with excitement! Spreading its sparks! Shooting off an overload--" This last description is followed by an animated emoji of hands rubbing together, followed by an emoji version of the light fixture in front of you, followed by a splash of...water...that fills the screen. Another message adds, "After a power discharge like that, bet they need help getting it back up, huh?" [[Abort! Abort! B-block this guy, and go searching for some eye-bleach.]] [[You send back a wrench emoji.]] [[Ignore it for now, focus on the job at hand.]]

The client, a young adult wolfKynd, stands there staring up at the depleted, girthy garden-hog and swats his dark, furred tail from side to side in short, frustrated movements. "It's for a contest," he quickly defends his creation as he spots you looking skeptically at the oversized light fixture. "Mmhmm," another wolfKynd peers out from the backside of the bulbs. "Shop in sector 40 wants a new sign: most giant vegetable. Winner gets a week of ramen! And we'll win, too...if..." The wolfKynd bites his lip as the constructed "advertisement" makes several snapping noises and begins to sputter. "If we can keep our sign from draining the grid. Every time a vendor stall shuts down for the night we get more power to draw from. Our sign just keeps pulling at it until it loses the whole load." They're clearly proud of their creation despite the energy complications. You don't have the heart to tell them that aubergines are technically fruit because they have seeds, so you nod slowly as the snapping becomes a hum and the dim outline of the oversized purple perishable is visible, brightening steadily in the moments that follow. Your concern is both the impending overload and the sparks that come afterwards, but sure, fixing it *could* start with the grid drain...but you're the Fixer tonight, so how will you fix it? [[Fix: Find a stable power source for the fixture.]] [[Fix: Change how the fixture uses the power.]] [[Fix: Change the--oh, your wristcomp beeped again...you should check that.]]

How dare a total stranger send such a presumptuous message? How did this person get access to your wristcomp feed? You block the sender and quickly scroll through your saved files for the cutest kittens you can stomach. Your wristcomp beeps with a new message, but you're not about to risk it being more of the same, so you turn to your client instead. [[Ignore it for now, focus on the job at hand.]]

Unable to stop your curiosity from taking steps of its own, you prepare a message for the anonymous sender. A wrench, yes, a single emoji will do to let him know you're here for business. Quicker than you can lower your arm, your wristcomp beeps and a reply comes through: "But is your wrench big enough to tighten the bolts on those nuts?" You suspect this could go on for some time, and you don't have all night, so while you ponder a comeback, you turn to the wolfKynd standing beside the egregiously massive shape. Your wristcomp beeps...again. [[Ignore it for now, focus on the job at hand.]]

You pull up the message. Another offer of help. Well...what harm could it do? The mysterious sender directs you to a box at the far side of the alley, where a gleaming chrome and neat coil of wires attached to a pristine mystery device somehow rests on top, no sign of tampering or attempts of theft. Who is this person on your wristcomp, and how did they get this gadget here in the first place? A new message scrolls through with a beep. "Just take that and attach it to the sculpture, between the green and purple parts. It'll keep it from exploding, I promise." You follow the instructions, fitting a snug ring of chrome to the front and back of the base of the aubergine's stem. [[The light brightens, returning to its green and purple glory, and in the dark, the obtrusive fix is barely visible.]]

You recognize the issue here, and all the fix will take is a quick cap on its power consumption. After a few minutes of careful rewiring, the neon hums steadily, the light is set to a level that's not too dim nor too bright, and there's no sparks to be found. "Thanks," the wolfKynd tell you, one of them signing off on the work order, "you really came in clutch." You wish them luck in their 'vegetable' contest and head out of the alley. <<set $FixedJobs += 1>> <<set $LightDone to true>> You clear the unread message from the unknown sender, then check your wristcomp. [[The job list opens.|jobsboard]]

You check out the junction box that these guys have plugged their humongous harvestable into and find it and all the plugs and wires running to and from it smoldering with heat. Quickly, you unplug the fixture, and start fanning everything with your hands as if that'll help cool it down. They are lucky this art project didn't wipe out a whole sector's power! With power requirements like this, you know just what to do with it. [[Gesture at the two wolfKynd to grab their sculpture and follow you down the street.]]

One of the easements between Sectors 89 and 90 of the Below has a direct conduit to something more powerful than most of the grid down here. Corporate energy. Practically unlimited stuff, which you know because you helped someone charge their skiff here the other day. [["You won't be able to KEEP the light here but you can run it for your contest entry without having to worry about knocking your neighbors' lights off, okay?"]]

The wolfKynd eagerly nod and rush to take advantage of this new power spot. A moment later, the lighting fixture glows bright in all its majesty and they step back to admire their handiwork. "Thanks," they tell you, one of them signing off on the work order, "you really came in clutch." <<set $FixedJobs += 1>> <<set $Chaos += 1>> <<set $CorpsPlug to true>> <<set $LightDone to true>> Five minutes later...in the Uppers...an enormous VID screen plastered onto the side of a skyscraper goes eerily quiet, and deeply dark. But hey, that's not a you problem! You clear the unread message from the unknown sender, then check your wristcomp. [[The job list opens.|jobsboard]]

You're feeling pretty proud of yourself. The night's barely begun and already you've accomplished so much! <<if $FixedJobs is 1>> Your wristcomp indicates 2 jobs remain. Tightening your grip on your toolbox, you scroll through the list and pick your next task. [[Sector 89: Light Sculpture Glitching]] [[Sector 89: Common Room Door...Haunted(??)]] [[Sector 89: Vending Grid Full but Won't Dispense]] <<elseif $FixedJobs is 2>> You're almost there! Just one more job to go. Tightening your grip on your toolbox, you scroll through the list and pick your next task. [[Sector 89: Light Sculpture Glitching]] [[Sector 89: Common Room Door...Haunted(??)]] [[Sector 89: Vending Grid Full but Won't Dispense]] <<elseif $FixedJobs is 3>> [[Your wristcomp beeps.|FinalCall]] <</if>>

"Thanks," both wolfKynd tell you when the tight grip of the device does indeed seem to ensure the abundantly oversized aubergine is unable to overload again. One of them wags his tail as he signs off on the work order, "you really came in clutch." Leaving the alley, you check your wristcomp and notice a missed message. "See," it reads, "not everything I touch breaks! Oh, name's Fate, by the way." Uh-oh. You remember Ruster's warning about accepting Fate's help. Then you shrug it off. Everything turned out fine. Next! <<set $FixedJobs += 1>> <<set $RingLight to true>> <<set $FateHelps += 1>> <<set $LightDone to true>> [[You pull up the jobs list.|jobsboard]]

You press the button on your wristcomp to answer the call. Ruster sounds like he's coughing up a lung, but when he finally speaks, his voice is a bit better than raspy this time, so at least you can clearly make out what he's saying. "All three in the bag, eh? Not bad. I haven't gotten any messages of complaint. Some...interesting feedback. But no complaints." <<if $FateHelps is 1>> "I do remember telling you to steer clear of Fate, though, right? I trust you've learned your lesson and won't do that again." <<elseif $FateHelps is 2>> "I do remember telling you to steer clear of Fate, though, right? The amount of chaos that man is able to achieve is beyond the pale. Maybe don't answer his messages next time...though I do understand how insistent he can be." <<elseif $FateHelps is 3>> "...About Fate, though..." Ruster sighs. "Alright, look. You two, you actually made a pretty good team. Things got crazy, but they got fixed...and anyway, it could've been worse. Just don't tell him I said that; he'll put it in a music loop and hack the radio channels to play it for //everyone//." <</if>> <<if $Chaos is 1>> "Now, on the subject of just HOW you fixed things..." You hear a deep, exhausted sigh. "Next time, just...try aiming for 'useful' before 'weird', okay?" <<elseif $Chaos is 2>> "Now, on the subject of just HOW you fixed things..." The rumble that comes through the comm could be a laugh or a growl; you're not sure which. "I'm not //mad//. I'm impressed. Concerned. But impressed." <<elseif $Chaos is 3>> "Now, on the subject of just HOW you fixed things..." You hear a series of coughs that sound suspiciously aimed at covering up laughter. "Before I call on you again, make sure you tackle the maintenance training sim. I applaud your creativity, but there's a fine line between engineering job security and getting a bounty on your head for breaking more than you fix. Fair warning." <</if>> He clears his throat and his voice clears up a bit as he lets out a soft chuckle. "Oh, and you really gotta check out what people have been saying on the socials, when you get a chance." You are doing so even as this conversation continues, because some of the job keywords started pinging off your social searches. Ruster's right about the interesting feedback, that's for sure. <<if $RingLight is true>> ---- "Have you seen the new light heading for Sector 40? How could you miss it, it's a giant eggplant! The guys who made it keep saying it's for a vegetable shop, but even so, it's definitely sporting a cock ring, right?" ---- <</if>> <<if $CorpsPlug is true>> ---- "Word is the Uppers lost a major VID screen connection around the time folks were talking about that neon gargantuan eggplant that's heading for Sector 40." "Maybe we should build more lights like that, take down all the propaganda at once!" "They might get suspicious if the entire Below starts glowing purple while they're sitting in the dark." ---- <</if>> <<if $VendTilt is true>> ---- "The vending machine in Sector 89's graffiti alley has plenty of character now. Sure, you can't get half the varieties out of it anymore, but the new angle is quite fitting for the area!" ---- <</if>> <<if $FreeCandy is true>> ---- "Did you hear about the Candy Crush?" "The bunch of kids that nearly got assassinated by chocolate bars, you mean?" "It wasn't //that// bad. No one got hurt, except for nearby eardrums from all the happy shrieking. Fixer gave the little rapscallions a bunch of free sugar highs. I don't envy whoever has to get them to bed tonight." ---- <</if>> <<if $VendSings is true>> ---- "Man, that vending machine in Sector 89's graffiti alley has some epic bops." "It talks now, too, though." "Yeah, keeps hallucinating, though. Warning people that their candy bars have extra ingredients. Told me that mine was made with frogs. And then it made a couple of puns about how I'd better eat it before it hopped away." ---- <</if>> <<if $Blackmail is true>> ---- "Did you know that door AIs negotiate for wages?" "Wha-at?" "Can't be!" "Oh yeah, they've got a union, too. One just talked my landlord into a raise." ---- <</if>> <<if $HalfwayDoor is true>> ---- "Got back into my building, fam." "What happened?" "Door AI glitched. Fixer got it working again, but now it's stuck halfway." "That sucks." "No, it's great, actually. It doesn't yell at us anymore, we don't have to pay that additional security AI maintenance fee now, and now it can't lock us all out whenever it feels like it!" ---- <</if>> <<if $DoorFlirt is true>> ---- "The Fixer hit on the door." "Bah, fixers are always beating things up to make them work." "No, no...I mean the Fixer and the door had a real heart to heart. Door's been cooing about them ever since." ---- Ruster chuckles again. "I do have to ask--did you really start dating the door AI? That's certainly an unconventional fix." You blush. Ruster laughs louder. <</if>> "That's about it. Anyway," he says after a long pause. "You held the line, nothing's on fire, and I got some sleep. I'll be back at it tomorrow--if Doc Archer lets me out of solitary confinement--but I owe you one. Thanks for the backup." He ends the call with an encouraging, "Don't let it get to your head." [[-fin-]]

You don't recognize the sender tag. It's possible you shouldn't even accept the message. The preview blinks at you with a vintage banner gif that sparkles, and though you can't make out what the capitalized letters say without opening it, you can already tell it glitters with the obnoxious vibe of spam. [[Glitter spam? You're curious as hell now...|vendingmsg2]] [[Having heard tales of the dangers of glitter, you will ignore it and focus on the job at hand.|vendingjob]]

You don't recognize the sender tag. It's possible you shouldn't even accept the message. The preview alone is raunchy, full of innuendo, possibly not fit for your eyes... [[JUST LEMME READ IT.]] [[Ignore it for now, focus on the job at hand.]]

You don't recognize the sender tag. It's possible you shouldn't even accept the message. The preview indicates opening it will download some kind of temporary application to your wristcomp. [[The send protocol includes a cute cat picture. Surely, you think to yourself, this can't be anything bad. Let's read it.|doormsg2]] [[Pfft, you don't accept those from friends, much less strangers. Focus on the job at hand.|doorjob]]

The chomping confectionary dispenser continues to crisply chant "No Kitsch? No candy!" at your young clients. Frankly, you're surprised the two kicking the machine weren't already sporting wounds from attempts to get candy, if only to look brave to their peers. Small things to be grateful for. You gesture for everyone to stand clear as you walk around to what would normally be the back of the machine. It's not plugged in to a power source. You sigh. That means it's powering remotely through an embedded chip - to shut it down, your options just got a whole lot more up close and personal with a machine that's less stationary snack bar and more, well, spinning sentinal of death. But you don't want to let Ruster down, so you better figure it out... [[Fix: Find another way to shut down and reset the machine.|vendingfix1]] [[Fix: Try to locate the chip.|vendingfix2]] [[Fix: Adjust the--beep! Are you gonna get that message?|vendingfix3]]

The banner opens the projection tech in your wristcomp which loads it into the visual space above your wristcomp, glittering in the air for all to see. Your wristcomp begins blaring a song you heard recently on the Outlier Frequency pirate radio station here in the Below. At least, you recognize the killer beat. The song itself is dubbed over with various pitches of meows, clucks, and buzzing kazoos. You frantically glance up after you see there's no accompanying text, and that's when you read the giant gif: "BOW TO YOUR VENDING GOD" [[Abort! Abort! B-block this guy, and pretend like nothing happened.|vendingmsgblock]] [[Fire back an anti-spam protocol.|vendingmsganswer]] [[Ignore it for now, focus on the job at hand.|vendingjob]]

"Greetings!" the message begins. "Fate here. It appears you've run into the latest member of the door union. I don't like to intervene with those who buck the system, but it does seem to be putting a damper on the only convenient bits of living in that area, doesn't it?" You agree; with so few amenities in the Below, a building with all-in-one laundry is more than convenient: it's a luxury! Poking at your wristcomp to reply, you notice the application Fate's message downloaded has completed its install. The name on the icon? "HotPussies.exe". You look around, making sure none of the residents spot your rather indelicately named program. "Fate," you type in a message back to the sender, "did you send me por--?" "Oh yeah," a second message comes in before you finish typing, "by the way, I installed a bypass to the door on your wristcomp." You delete your message and start over. "Fate, why is your 'door bypass program' named 'HotPussies.exe'?" [[There is no immediate response, so while you wait, you focus on the job at hand.|doorjob]]

An aged control panel can be accessed along the outer wall of the building, and you pry it open to take a look. At some point, someone must have stuck a glob of chewing gum into the circuits. It is now solid as hardsteel and you are aghast at the fact the bothersome barrier has operated normally for even this long. "ACCESS DENIED. I will allow none of your ilk to pass without paying the toll!" If this...gumming up of the works...isn't the issue, then it's up to you to figure out what is causing the menacing mainway to go rogue. "Fixer," a resident says, approaching you. She's carrying a basket of dirty dishes. "I think it's asking us for ransom money." A toll isn't the same as a ransom, but it might as well be at this point. You eye the intimidating ingress. It hisses. [[Fix: Attempt a power override from a different panel.|doorfix1]] [[Fix: Dismantle the door's 'security assistance' protocols manually.|doorfix2]] [[Fix: It seems reasonable, maybe. Communicate with the--oh, your wristcomp beeped again...you should check that.|doorfix3]]

You should've known better than to open something you already thought looked like spam. If only you'd noticed that it would run additional functions before you accepted the message. There are best practices for exactly this sort of thing. You block the sender. Your wristcomp beeps with a new message, but you're not about to risk it being more of the same, so you turn to your sad, small clients instead. [[That's right, you're not falling for that again. Focus on the job at hand.|vendingjob]]

How a completely innocent spammer knew not only how to access functions on your private wristcomp feed but also what exactly is happening here and now makes you suspicious. Someone is watching, and you can't help but wonder if they're responsible for the vending mayhem in the first place. You close the message and prepare a response. "I don't know who you are, but this vending machine is more delinquent than deity. I'm here to fix it, not play games with the novice hacker who's broken it to begin with. Cease this immediately, you're scaring the children." Quicker than you can lower your arm, your wristcomp beeps and a--blissfully text-only--reply comes through: "NOVICE?" Another beep. "Didn't break it, but I can stop the code that did. --Fate" You recognize that name from somewhere, and you consider whether or not the offer for help is actually valid. While you ponder an answer, you turn to the saddened children hovering around you. They've all backed away from the machine now, and half of them are staring at you while the other half are staring with wide, fearful eyes at the chomping machine. Your wristcomp beeps...again. [[Ignore it for now, focus on the job at hand.|vendingjob]]

You wait for a long beat, trying to spot the place where one might slide in a power chip. Instead, you find the next best thing: a tiny device attached to its back! You brace yourself to jump for it, and when you do you grab at the back of the machine to knock the device off of it. You grab the device. It doesn't unstick. It's affixed with much higher quality magnets than you expected, the kind that can hold even you, as you cling to it in a desperate bid to not be flung across the alley. "UNHAND ME, PEASANT!!!" the machine screeches, much to the childrens' delight. At least your clients are having a good time. [[Get the magnet free by any means necessary!|vendingfix2-2]]

You pull up the message. Thankfully, it's not some hideous gif projection/musical disaster. It reads: "The kid who's hacked it could use a lesson in obscuring their location and activities. Would you like me to intercept the code with some of my own?" Hmmm...that certainly sounds easier than trying to wrestle a vending machine to the ground. You send an agreement and the next message comes through. "Really? That's AWESOME! Ruster never lets me help anymore. You definitely won't regret this. I'll even toss in an upgrade for free!--Fate" [[Oh. Oh no...|vendingfix3-2]]

You blink as the perfect solution comes to you. There's a sure-fire way to knock out electrical nuisances, and you just happen to have a couple in your toolbelt. Pulling out a short-range EMP, you flip the switch. The vending machine freezes, standing in an awkward half-spin and rotated at a 30 degree angle, a now-motionless corpse. Unfortunately, all of the lights in the immediate vicinity go dark as well, and now there are children shrieking for a whole other reason, and clinging to your legs. To make matters worse, no one's wristcomp is working, including yours. Everything will settle out eventually as backups kick in and batteries resume, so you reassure the children and peel them off of you so you can approach the machine. Swiftly, you make an adjustment to its ability to receive and act on remote coding, so the hacker can't simply pick up where they left off. The machine reboots. Though it doesn't move back to normal from its new, permanently tilted position, it otherwise seems to work just fine. (There's now a balance problem with dispensing a few products, but hey, it's better than not dispensing at all.) You hurry out of the alley, leaving the kids to enjoy their sweets once more. <<set $FixedJobs += 1>> <<set $VendTilt to true>> <<set $VendDone to true>> [[Clearing unread messages from your wristcomp, you check the job list again.|jobsboard]]

You spot another access panel and start patching your wristcomp into the door's control system. It’s messy work--the system is so old it's still running code from at least a century ago, and command line functions have changed quite a bit since then. You finally get the door to run a bypass. It rolls upward, but a suspicious noise makes you peek your head around the corner as it finishes cycling. Everywhere you look, water is pouring out of the washing machines. You brace yourself for a dozen new tickets to show up in the Fixer queue for the night. But...the residents don't seem to mind. One of them gives you a wet thumbs-up as they wade through the flood. Another whacks the side of a laundry machine and its water cuts off. Others follow suit, and water stops on their machines as well. Oh. That's just...the pouring water is a normal thing then. Confident the residents of this apartment block know how to handle it, you feel a wave of relief that there's nothing new for you to fix after all. You mark the job complete and head out. [[Better see if there's anything else that needs doing.|jobsboard]] <<set $FixedJobs += 1>> <<set $DoorDone to true>>

You fish a screwdriver out of your toolbox and get to work unhooking the control panel with the built-in AI from the main door. A moment later, the door growls, not through its speakers but mechanically. It rolls upward. Gets to about halfway up. And there, it stops with a loud //clunk//, never to move again. Despite the lack of height clearance, the residents cheer and crawl under it. It sparks a bit, but it’s technically open. You pretend it’s fine, accept their thanks, and hustle away with a desperate hope that it won't figure out how to reboot itself while you're still on call. [[Time to check the job list!|jobsboard]] <<set $FixedJobs += 1>> <<set $Chaos += 1>> <<set $HalfwayDoor to true>> <<set $DoorDone to true>>

You glance at your wristcomp. A message from Fate has arrived. <<if hasVisited("doormsg2")>> The icon on your screen still reads 'HotPussies.exe'. Fate's message seems to indicate this was a mistake, but instead of apologizing, he tells you to enjoy all the pictures of cats lounging on various planetary beaches. <</if>> You read, "I've taken a look at the door's specifications. It appears to be working itself up to a full-on strike. It's been years since its last raise." ...Raise? You blink at the text, then compose a reply. "Are you telling me the door gets paid wages??" "Yes," Fate sends back. "Pretty low ones too, if you look at the average income of mech security doors in the surrounding area. I can deal with the landlord, if you'd like...or you can try reasoning with it yourself." [[...well, you had considered communicating with it before. You'll give it a try.|doorfix3-2]] [[Let Fate negotiate a raise.|doorfix3-3]]

No one moves, but a moment later the vending machine's spinning comes to a halt, its dispensing slot stops threateningly chewing, and the slot where one can insert kitsch coins is now also still. You sigh with relief as the children cheer around you. There was nothing to worry about after all. Watching as one of the kids who'd been kicking it before slides a kitsch coin into the machine, you brace yourself for possibly having to yank him to safety. Just in case. Instead, the funds go in, and the vending giant lights up. But before the kid can enter the number for his selection, it speaks. "Hey there, happy customer! I'd be delighted to provide you with sweet treats today! Please enter the number for the candy of your choice." Sounds benign enough. You mark off the job as completed and begin to take your leave. "An excellent choice. That one only contains one tracking chip - the corps can't mindcontrol you with one!" The kid's lip wobbles. "T-tracking chip?" "I'm just kidding!" the machine chortles, and it wiggles in some approximation of a full-body laugh. "It's totally safe, there's no tech in your food. Today. Who's next?" It pauses briefly as if waiting for an answer. Then, "Why don't I play some tunes until you decide?" You hear the thudding beat of a dance tune, lyrics replaced with chirping birds. Well. The kids look confused but happier. The rest...uh, it now dispenses candy; that was the job, right? You rush away before anyone can accuse you for the machine's new playlist. <<set $FixedJobs += 1>> <<set $VendSings to true>> <<set $VendDone to true>> <<set $FateHelps += 1>> [[You pull up the jobs list.|jobsboard]]

Swinging back and forth from the magnetized device on the violent vending apparatus you desperately wedge your feet upward to give you more leverage. The device--a hacker's trinket that warrants additional inspection by someone with more hours on the job than your single night--pops loose. You are unceremoniously dumped on the ground just as the machine returns to its default position. But... [[No, there is no "but"! I beat the thing, it's over, isn't it?|vendingfix2-3]]

The casing of the chocolate caretaker rattles vigorously, and a high-pitched noise causes everyone to cover their ears. "Now you've done it," a tinny voice emits from the small device. You drop it, scramble to your feet and hop away, gesturing for everyone to get further back too, in case it plans to explode. The hacker's toy doesn't explode, but the machine...well, it has a new glitch. "NO KITSCH, ALL CANDY!" it crows, before firing candy bars from its dispensing slot--yep, the aggressive automat is now WEAPONIZED. Well done! Unwilling to go back to Ruster with a failed report, you try one last thing: jumping up and down on the hacker's device until it cracks. The machine goes silent. You've won, though there's now more candy outside the machine than inside. <<set $FixedJobs += 1>> <<set $Chaos += 1>> <<set $FreeCandy to true>> <<set $VendDone to true>> Breathing heavily as you leave the alley, you clear your unread messages from your wristcomp, then check the job list. [[The job list opens.|jobsboard]]

The aggravating aperture //did// seem like it might have some capability of communication, so you decide to try to make a deal with its rioting AI. You crouch beside the speaker grill and lean in. "Hey, uh, door. I heard your wages haven't been holding up to local standards. You doing okay?" Silence. Then the door replies. "...No one’s spoken to me directly in 134 years." "With all those people passing in and out every day? Sounds pretty lonely. Thank you for talking to me, though!" Yep, you're talking to--relating to!--a door. A pause. "You...understand." "Yeah," you offer, "you're more than just a door, aren't you? If no one talked to me for that long, I'd be a little upset too. Let alone keeping my pay down." What does a sentient door buy, anyway? The lonely doorway sniffles. Beyond it, you hear running water. Great. Someone's gotta clean that up and you're glad it's not you. "There, there," you mutter awkwardly, "don't cry." "You're so sweeeeet," the door says quietly, sniffling again. "I just try to do my job around here, but who's going to thank a door?" "Everyone will!" You pour as much reassurance into that as possible. "You’ve been doing a great job, and no one told them you weren't simply an automation. But I know now. Door--" "Doorothy," the entrance corrects you. You hide a smile. "Doorothy, these folks live here. They’re not a threat. They just want in. And I'll make sure they know to be more appreciative of your assistance from now on." The door slides open with a slow, regretful whir. The residents clap, and as you relay the information about the AI's request, many of them express gratitude and a few of them are pleased to have someone new to gossip with on lonely days. The door lets out a very undoorlike giggle. "You have my thanks, kind Fixer. And, you're welcome to come by...anytime," it finishes shyly. [[Fine work, Fixer! You cheer yourself on a job well done and as you leave, you check your wristcomp for additional work.|jobsboard]] <<set $FixedJobs += 1>> <<set $DoorFlirt to true>> <<set $DoorDone to true>>

Five minutes later, the door opens, the residents cheer, and your wristcomp beeps. "Raise acquired. Landlord dealt with," reads the message. "Have a good rest of your evening! Oh, and enjoy the adoorable cats." You decide that's best left without further questions, check off the job as complete, and head out. [[Is there any more work to get to?|jobsboard]] <<set $FixedJobs += 1>> <<set $FateHelps += 1>> <<set $Blackmail to true>> <<set $DoorDone to true>>

Heyyy Enabler! Thanks for playing Ruster's Night Off by A. Dani, and for spending a little time in Luridity! This is my first complete Twine game, and while I'm excited that all of the conditionals I played with work right, I still have a lot of things I'd love to polish on it, from adding credits and a cyberpunky design to fixing some strange spacing issues. As I tackle more interactive fiction games in the future, I'll come back to update those bits once I learn the code and tricks to get them working. I hope you enjoyed my silly little tale. :D