There is a [[building]] that you need to enter. The reason why has never been made clear. It feels as though it's something that's been instilled in you since birth.
(click:"birth")[A voice belonging to a face you can no longer recall has given you a single warning: ''DO NOT GET CAUGHT''.
This is a [[sneaking mission]].]
You are haunted by a vengeful spirit.
(click:"haunted")[It doesn't really do anything besides annoy you. People around you are repulsed by its appearance; stringy hair, pockmarked skin, and a set of crooked, jagged teeth. You haven't been able to have company over, or go to any parties because of this.]
(click:"this")[You're still not sure why this spirit is here. You were stocking shelves and assisting customers at a [[store]] you aren't actually employed by, but were still able to pick up a check from, when it appeared and followed you home.]
A solid, brown cube. No distinguishing features. No windows. A single door in the front. It's surrounded by a massive, sprawling maze of other, much smaller buildings.
(click:"buildings")[This walled city is the obstacle keeping you from your goal.]
[[<|open]]
It's a generic supermarket. You've managed to con the management into getting paid a standard salary for about ten minutes of work by keeping your head down around other employees and circumventing the punch-card system by constantly filing "corrective" paperwork.
(click:"paperwork")[You simply come in wearing a very convincing copy of their uniform, move some boxes, and go [[home]].]
Home? Where is your home? You pull up a map, like something out of a video game. A blinking red dot confirms your destination. Except you don't know where you currently are on this map, or how to even get there.
(click:"there")[You need to navigate through that maze of chain stores and strip malls to get into that large building. But now you're distracted: how do you get home? Where do you go //after// you're done with this?]
(click:"done")[Being lost is a scary thing. The sun suddenly sets, and all the people on the street have vanished. Your phone vibrates in your pocket.]
(click:"phone")[A barrage of messages flood your home screen.]
(click:"messages")["YOU DESERVE THIS!"]
(click:"YOU DESERVE THIS!")["THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"]
(click:"THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!")["YOU SHOULD HAVE KEPT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH SHUT!"]
(click:"YOU SHOULD HAVE KEPT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH SHUT!")[ [[...]] ]
You try to ignore the barrage of victim-blaming messages. You know what they're referring to. People are upset that you openly talked about abuse you've gone through. Someone with a grudge called you a liar, and everyone believed them.
(click:"abuse")[You're trying real hard to suppress the flashbacks suddenly appearing. Shutting out childhood memories of adult fists punching you in the face, and adult hands running down your body. Blocking the pornography of imagined revenge. You keep walking.]
(click:"walking")[There is one other person besides you out here: a [[man]] running a soda stand. It's small, and buried within two shuttered jewelery stores, and partially obscured by a long ramp leading to a second floor of closed businesses. You have money, so you decide to [[buy a drink]].]
The man behind the counter looks like a pro wrestler you were a fan of. You're too nervous to ask if it's really him. You don't want to get him upset.
[[<|...]]
You approach the man behind the counter.
(click:"counter")[He looks at you and asks, "So, what'll it be?"]
(click:"asks")[You look at the menu, and narrow it down to three choices:]
(click:"choices")[ [[Root Beer]]
[[Orange Soda]]
[[Off-Brand Lemon-Lime]] ]
Root Beer sounds good.
(click:"good")[As you place your order, a shelf suddenly shoots out from the side of the stand. This shelf contains a motherlode of bootleg Amiibos. You, through some kinetic knowledge, already know that they work exactly the same as the real ones.]
(click:"real ones")[You buy two root beers, one for you, and one for the ghost over your shoulder, and a Mega Man Amiibo.]
(click:"Mega Man Amiibo")[ [[It's time to head home now.]] ]
Orange soda...haven't had that since you were a kid.
(click:"kid")[As you place your order, a shelf suddenly shoots out from the side of the stand. This shelf contains a motherlode of bootleg Amiibos. You, through some kinetic knowledge, already know that they work exactly the same as the real ones.]
(click:"real ones")[You buy two orange sodas, one for you, and one for the ghost over your shoulder, and a Sonic the Hedgehog Amiibo.]
(click:"Sonic the Hedgehog Amiibo")[ [[It's time to head home now.]] ]
Normal people call it "Sprite," or "Mountain Dew." You're not normal.
(click:"You're not normal")[As you place your order, a shelf suddenly shoots out from the side of the stand. This shelf contains a motherlode of bootleg Amiibos. You, through some kinetic knowledge, already know that they work exactly the same as the real ones.]
(click:"real ones")[You buy two, um, Sprites? Mountain Dews? You buy two lemon-lime sodas, one for you, and one for the ghost over your shoulder, and a Princess Peach Amiibo.]
(click:"Princess Peach Amiibo")[ [[It's time to head home now.]] ]
The stand vanishes as soon as you turn around.
(click:"The stand vanishes as soon as you turn around")[An iron gate has closed off the way back]
(click:"An iron gate has closed off the way back")[The only way forward is through another gate]
(click:"The only way forward is through another gate")[You look at a nearby sign. It won't open until 4 A.M]
(click:"You look at a nearby sign. It won't open until 4 A.M")[ [[You're stuck here]]]
Several yards away, an elderly woman on a bicycle gives you an angry glare. Like you're some kind of criminal.
(click:"criminal")[She vanishes.]
(click:"vanishes")[You're still stuck here. You and your ghost. You've completely forgotten about infiltrating the building; you just want to [[go home]].]
You look down at your phone again. Your best friend has blocked you on Twitter.
(live:5s)[ [[You want to blame the ghost, but can't bring yourself to do it.|credits]] (stop:)]
A Hypertext Dream Journal by AQUANAUTS HOLIDAY (Ramona Savage)
lonelyfrontier.net