Cliff Dwellings Island

The moon is so large and its light so bright that the trees' shadows are as clear as day. They stretch across the picked-clean dirt to mark the road you're travelling on, in such neat intervals that you sense their heartbeat, the same rhythm one might feel from the streetlights of the interstate. Light, punctuated by the darkness; darkness, reminded of the light. Opposite. But nonetheless, the same. You aren't on the interstate, though. You're on an road that hasn't been repaved for years, driving through a desert that has baked in hell's oven for thirteen hours straight. As you roll down the window to get some fresh air, you are overwhelmed by the heat rising from the broiled ground. Hastily shielding yourself, you shut the window once more. You are tired. But whether in your greenhoused car or out in the air, you can only burn. Finally, ahead of you, you see something massive emerge from the horizon. It is a cliff, tall enough to block out the supermoon's gaze as you approach closer. Whoever built this road clearly decided this remnant of nature wasn't worth defying. The road ahead appears to make a sharp right turn, following the cliff along the shaded, sparse treeline for miles before turning around the end of the outcropping. Resting at that turn, sheltered under the cliff's shadow, is a gas station. You look down on your dashboard. The gas tank is three-fourths full. You don't exactly need to stop. But a refrigerated drink and air conditioning --- you could go for that. [[Stop by the gas station->At the Gas Station]] [[Keep driving->Drive to C1]]

(set: $endReached1 to false) Deciding to continue driving, you complete the turn in the road and start following the cliff. The moon is now almost completely hidden behind it, leaving little but an overcast shadow that makes you forget all about the heat. The night is now truly night. However, despite the thickening darkness, the ruins remain distinct, reflecting rays of moonlight that --- now that you start to notice --- shouldn't be there. Your gaze is drawn out your left window, as you try to squint past this illusion. Then the illusion started to repeat itself. That same heartbeat of the shadows, instead keeping tempo as the same sequence of adobe buildings kept reappearing, just slightly different --- one structure with a few more mud bricks laid on top, another chiseled away at the edges by tool or erosion. You're not sure you can tell the difference anyways, at least between each pair of iterations. Regardless, like how pages of still drawings make motion when flipped through rapidly, you swear you could see: the ruins were changing. A woman's scream breaks through the night. You involunatrily slam the brakes, rubber leaving skid marks. Only when you come to a complete stop does your brain fully process where that scream came from --- in the direction of the ruins, which were now perfectly still. At the center of this all was this well-shaped pit, rising only slightly above the ridge which it sat on. You stare at it ... and you hear the scream continue to echo. It reminds you of the gas station attendant's cryptic advice. [[Get out of the car -> C1]] [[Keep driving -> Drive to C2]]

(set: boolean-type $isTankFilled to false) You decide to visit the gas station, sluggishly stopping next to one of the pumps. $3.79 a gallon. Could be worse. Despite the acceptable price however, the isn't a single car here. But there is a convenience store. You can see the back of a vending machine lined against a window, its side adorned by the swirling Coca-Cola label. [[Enter the convenience store->In the Gas Station]] (link:"Fill up the gas tank")[ //You insert the pump into the filler hole. Before long, the pump clunks in satisfaction. You replace the pump and check your dashboard meter. It shows that the tank is full.//(set: $isTankFilled to true) ] [[Leave->Drive to C1]]

You're back out. Whether its you or the air or the moonlit pavement ... the world feels cooler now. (if: $isTankFilled is true)[//You've already filled up your tank. The attendant better already know that.//] (else: )[(link:"Fill up the gas tank")[//You insert the pump into the filler hole. Before long, the pump clunks in satisfaction. You replace the pump and check your dashboard meter. It shows that the tank is full.//(set: $isTankFilled to true)]] [[Leave->Drive to C1]]

You open the door into the gas station without even a squeak. The shopkeeper's bell must be broken. The shelves are surprisingly sparse for such an unfrequented store. The hot dog roller is running, but nothing is inside it. Boxes of beverage cans are lying around in one corner, leaving the refrigerators empty without their wares. An entire set of shelves has only a few bag of chips left lying on top, and nothing else. If the vending machine is empty... [[Insert change into vending machine->Vending Machine]] (link:"Look for the attendant")[// You look towards the cashier counter, but no one seems to be stationing it.// [[Walk towards the counter->Attendant]] ]

You walk toward the counter and look over it. Beneath the counter is a man lying in fetal position. His mossy hair obscures his face, though you see a line of drool trickle down it. Seven bags of Doritos. Three hot dog wrappers, one with a bite still left inside. Five bottles of beer. They all lay scattered around his body. You can smell it on him, carried by his heaving breaths. The cashier space is inexplicably part of a separate room, accessible to the customer by a window. The only way to reach the man would be to vault over the counter and land right on top of him. At any rate, this doesn't seem like the kind of guy you *want* awake. [[Insert change into vending machine->Vending Machine]]

You slot some change into the vending machine. It whirs... And a can of soda falls out. Just not the one you wanted. [[Exit the store->The Attendant's Question]]

You turn to leave the store, but then someone lays a hand on your shoulder. You turn around: it's the attendant, now fully awake with bulging eyes and a chin that jitters as he speaks. "You filled your tank up?" [[No.->R - No]] [[Yes.->R - Yes/Ghost Cont.]] [[What does it matter to you?->R - What]]

"That there is a big mistake. You won't make it to the next station without filling up here." [[Is the next station really that far?->R - Station]] [[But I still have most of my tank left.->R - Tank]]

"Good. Only thing else is to watch out for the ghosts." [[Ghosts? -> Ghost Description]] [[Sure thing.->Attendant Conclusion]]

"Nothing personal. But I caution every customer that stops by: if you don't fill up here, you won't make it to the next gas station." [[Is the next station really that far?->R - Station]] [[But I still have most of my tank left.->R - Tank]]

"It's not far. Just around the other side of the cliff. But it takes a longer time than it looks." Before you can inquire any further, the attendant interjects. "I know that look of incredulousness. I've seen it so many times. But I'm telling you: doesn't matter how full your tank is or how much horsepower they've got, you'll be petering on fumes by the time you get there. And that's //if// you fill up now. If you get yourself stranded, I'm not calling triple A for you. Not doing it another goddamn time." [[Okay, okay. If you say so.->R - Yes/Ghost Cont.]] [[Then I guess I'll take your advice.->R - Yes/Ghost Cont.]]

"It don't matter. No matter how full your tank is or how much horsepower they've got, you'll be petering on fumes by the time you get there. And that's //if// you fill up now. I get calls every now and then from some stranded driver demanding a reason as to why their tank ran out so quickly. And I always tell them, 'It didn't. For you, it was twenty minutes. For them, it was as long as they will ever know.'" [[Them? -> Ghost Description]] [[Yeah ... I'm just going to leave. And do what you told me to do. Totally. ->Attendant Conclusion]]

The attendant nods. "The people that left those ruins behind left //themselves// behind, so that everything that happened there would stay there, to repeat for eternity. A piece of advice: don't get caught up in their play. Keep driving. And don't look back." [[I'll take your advice. ->Attendant Conclusion]] [[I don't think I understand. ->Attendant Conclusion (set: $isConfused to true)]]

(if: $isConfused is true)["You strike me as a person who will. I'm not worried." ] A smile breaks out on the attendant's face. He grabs your shoulder one last time, giving it a shake. "Sayonara, good friend. May we not have to meet again." That last sentence gives you pause. But his smile still lingers as he leads you towards the door. [[Exit the store ->Back Out]]

(if: (history: where its name contains "Drive to C1-Full")'s length >= 1)[You stop and get out of the car. Instead of the woman's scream, you hear three voices overlapping one another, though distinguishing the kind of person behind each voice is impossible. But together, they fill the forest, claiming it all as its domain. And the trail in front of you will lead you right in.] (else-if: visits is 1)[By the time you get out of the car, the woman's scream had already faded away. Replacing it is a lower-pitched, judging voice, the echoing against the cliff-face giving it an empyrean timber. The voice seems to fill the forest in front of you, claiming it all as its domain. And the trail in front of you will lead you right in.] (else: )[You've made it out of the forest. Not a thing makes a sound out here. Your car is waiting.] (if: (history: where its name contains "Drive to C1-Full")'s length >= 1)[[[Turn back for the final time -> C-Final]]] (else:)[[[Leave-> Drive to C2]]] [[Follow the trail -> C1 Scene]]

(if:(history: where its name contains "C1 Scene")'s length is 0)["Why the hell would you want to walk //towards// the unseen danger?" You think to yourself. "Let's just move on. That's what the gas station attendant said to do anyways. Not that he was right about there being ghosts --- it's just the logical thing to do." And so, you ease off the brake.] (set: $endReached2 to false) You keep driving. For a while, you stubbornly keep your eyes straight on the road, as if you could somehow unlearn object permanence and forget everything you saw --- which, you remark to yourself, couldn't have been further than "permanent" anyway. Somethign else distracts you. A ringing in your left ear. You barely notice at first, but it gets worse. You try to ignore it by focusing your attention at where the road meets the horizon, but the titinitus spikes in intensity with your concentration. At a certain point, the pain strikes so hard that you involuntarily jerk your head to the side--- And you hear whistling. You grind the car to a stop, straining to listen for the sound, but the tinnitus has thinned to a whisper. There's no way to make out a thing. Yet, you gingerly turn your head to the left once more, and the ringing in your ears focuses into a melodic note. It's as if someone is whistling directly into your ear. Of course, there's no one in the car. Yet, a thought enters your mind as you face the only direction your inner ear will allow, gazing upon a clifface city that has unrecognizably changed, yet still clearly left in an abandoned state: Who could you even be hearing? [[Get out of the car ->C2]] [[Keep driving -> Drive to C3]]

(if:visits is 1)[You step out of the car. The whistling continues, but now as a recognizable melody that repeats upon itself. Instead of stuck within your ear, it echoes from the forest. And the trail in front of you will lead you right through.] (else:)[You've made it out of the forest. Not a thing makes a sound out here. Your car is waiting.] [[Leave-> Drive to C3]] [[Follow the trail -> C2 Scene]]

(if:(history: where its name contains "C2 Scene")'s length is 0)[You roll down the window for a moment. The air is still warm, but you can feel the wind blowing between your index and middle fingers. "That's the reason for the whistle, then. Wind blowing through some narrow crevice." Satisfied with this explanation, you shift the stick into gear.] (set: $endReached3 to false) You keep driving. Every time you glance to the side, you swear that there's a building that wasn't there before. As for the pit-like structure that continues to reappear, it seems to be building upon itself, iteratively adding to the top wide, concentric layers, slowly forming an amphitheater. Built for a hundreds-strong audience --- but you are the only apparent spectator. Then you hear the blast of a blowtorch. Mistakening the sound as that of a blown engine gasket, you stomp down on the car brake. Once you jolt to a stop, you turn every which way to find the source of that sound. But it's gone now, replaced only by the crackle of kindling. This you can tell. Beyond the woods, something burns. [[Get out of the car -> C3]] [[Keep driving -> Drive to C-Final]]

(if:visits is 1)[You step out of the car, and when you do, you almost expect the gravel beneath your feet to pop off the ground, like oil droplets from a burning pan. The crackling sound seems to surge along the ground's surface, muffledly disappearing in the forest's depths, before that damned torch blast sounds off in the distance. And the trail in front of you will lead you right to the source.] (else:)[You've made it out of the forest. Not a thing makes a sound out here. Your car is waiting.] [[Leave-> Drive to C-Final]] [[Follow the trail -> C3 Scene]]

(if:(history: where its name contains "C3 Scene")'s length is 0)["So what? Someone must have set up an illegal campfire. The park rangers can take care of that." Having reached this conclusion, you let your foot of the brake.] (set: boolean-type $endReachedFinal to false) You keep driving. The ruined city still follows. However, it is now an lumbering giant, hardened mud portrusions added on top of each other, irregularly shifting in size as if the city no longer knows what it is meant to become. Every once in a while, you hear that same blast. You continue to worry if the engine is breaking down, but everything remains perfectly fine. Eventually, the noise fades into the back of your mind. It's getting late now. The moon has overtaken the cliff's edge to bathe the whole desert in cooling light. Noticing this, you turn off your sputtering AC and begin to roll down the window... Before getting blasted in the face with a draft of smoke. In your coughing fit, you lose control of the wheel, though thankfully the car skids to a stop without any accident. You're left bewildered. You can see perfectly clearly past the window, making out every crack and brick of the ruined city in such detail that you notice, though you don't know how else to put this, that there seems to be //less// of it. Nonetheless, you can feel the smoke clog up your nostrils and soot coat your tongue. You take a finger to your tongue. The tip comes out black. [[Stop -> C-Final]] [[Keep driving -> MOVE ON]]

(if:$oneWay is true)[You're back at the end. The soot still hangs in the air. It's now or never.] (else-if: visits is 1)[You step out of the car. The soot is now beginning to gather on your clothing, the smoke dense enough that you can feel it physically drifting into you. Even without a single flicker in sight, the ruins must be the source of this smoke. Given the direction it's blowing towards you, that's the only explanation. And the trail in front of you will lead you right there.] (else:)[You've made it out of the forest. The soot still hangs in the air. Your car is waiting for you.] (if:(history: where its name contains "The Check")'s length is 1 AND $oneWay is not true AND $interveneCheck is not false)[Out of a whim, you think to check the gas gauge --- you've already a third of your tank through. 150 miles at least. How? How is that even possible? The gas attendant's quizzical warning now weighs on you --- you maybe have enough gas to make it to the beginning of the ruins, back again, and just barely reach the next gas station. That is, assuming that the next gas station is where the attendant said it was, and that the road doesn't play any more tricks and expend your remaining fuel even faster. It's time to make a decision. [[Drive back the way you came ->Drive to C1-Full]]] [[Leave. No more of this. -> MOVE ON]] [[Follow the trail -> C-Final Scene]]

(if:(history: where its name contains "Drive to C1-Full")'s length is 0)[No more. No more of this. You are //done// with all of these cryptic messages from strange men and hallucinations. You're out of here.] And so, you keep driving. Eventually, you reach the end of the cliff, soon to make the swerving turn around it. Before you do, you look down at your dashboard. The arrow of the gas meter rests just above "Empty". The gas attendant somehow was right --- you really did need a full tank. "He better also be right again about that gas station being just ahead. //He better be.//" With that remark to yourself, you turn beyond the cliff. The moon has now risen to its full height, shining a bright spotlight for your approach. But a stray cloud has drifted in front of it. Its shadow envelops you instead, following as you bid the cliff ruins goodbye. Sort of, you realize. No matter where you end up, they will still be there. On the other side.

Stepping onto the trail, you walk towards the ruins. The dust of the trail billows away, so much that you wonder that if in a few minutes, the trail will disappear altogether. It doesn't really matter though. Without even a stray branch to block your way, you can clearly see the pit-shaped structure ahead of you. (link:"Walk further") [As you approach, you can see the edges of the bricks in clearer detail, a testament to the generations of construction and craftsmanship that made this city what it is. In fact, you recognize the original ruins, distinct and embedded into the towering structures in front of you. They now cast their shadow onto you as the stars above slowly are shrouded away. But even as the sky darkens, it does not become any harder to see. In fact, despite the distance, you begin to see cracks in the masonry, piercing through the carefully constructed edges. Were those even there before? (link:"Walk further")[What's causing these cracks becomes apparent, when suddenly, plumes of fire burst through them. Every. Single. Crack. You can see now: the whole city is burning. The whole city is falling, will fall, has already fallen just a few steps ago. The pit is no exception. You can see the flames dance within the slitted windows, the ceiling in this iteration sealed shut, a pressure cooker of hell from which spurts of smoke are desperate to escape. (link:"Walk further")[As you get closer, you realize the smoke isn't the only thing trying to escape. The Child is stuck inside as well. What has happened to the ceiling entrance or the stairs within, you cannot see, but instead, with bare hands, The Child claws at the edge of a window, trying to make a large enough hole to contort their body through. (if: $haveDagger is true)[ Don't you have something that they could use? [[Throw them the dagger. -> C-Final Full]]] (else:)[] (link:"Walk further")[You slow your steps, as if that would give him more time to make it through. But The Child makes little progress. Slowly, unwillingly, you step closer to the base of the cliff. When your toes touch the threshold of scraggy grass and unforgiving rock, the cracks finally give way. The building collapses, The Child completely buried beneath it. And there is no more path left. (set: $endReachedFinal to true) (replace: ?stoplink)[(if:(history: where its name contains "The Check")'s length is 0)[[[Walk back. And think about what you saw. -> The Check]]] (else:)[[[Return to the car -> C-Final]]] ] ]]]] |stoplink>[[[Return to the car -> C-Final]]]

Stepping onto the trail, you walk towards the ruins. The voice you heard seems to muffle and disappear as the forest envelops you, but you can see the well-shaped structure peaking above the treeline, close enough to be able tease out the uneven construction of its rim, with gaps that bricks have yet to fill. Yet, you barely seem to be getting any closer. You look down at the trail to see how far you've walked. Behind you, the trail fades until it disappears among indistinguishable trees; underneath your feet however, the trail swells, expanding to four times its former width before narrowing again, like a bolus of half-digested food sliding down the forest's gullet. That would make you the next bite to be swallowed. You curse yourself for even coming up with the analogy. (link: "Walk further")[You step into the swell with only the tip of your leading shoe, like one would step into a puddle to avoid splashing muddy water all over. Instead of a ripple however, the swell left a wake of scattered sand as it shot forward, not so much cleaving through the forest as the trees slide aside for ... it. With the foreground cleared away, you now had a better sight of the cliff ahead, and the structure on top of it, but most of all, the voice was now back in full force, no, two, //three// of them. A woman's increasingly hysterical protest, a man's increasingly incenssed bellowing, and in the middle of it all ... someone timid. Someone terrified. (link: "Run after the swell")[You run forward, sensing the possibility that there would only be this one chance to find what's beyond the forest. Not just the ruins, but the reason the voices echo from them. And you are rewarded. The trees break away, revealing a grassy field cut clean through by the deposited swell of sand like a runaway lawnmower. The sudden change in terrain catches you off-guard, causing you to skid across the loose sand until you fall down on your behind. As you nurse your sore hip, you look up towards the ruins --- and notice the drastic change. For one, the "well" now has a roof on top of it, albeit with stairs that emerge through an opening at the center. But more than that, standing on top of that roof, are people. (link: "Step off the ground")[As you get up, you can see these figures in more detail. There is a woman, wearing a deep-blue, star-patterned manta dress, held together by an silvery sash crossing their chest and over their left shoulder. There is a man, wearing a crimson headband and a diamond-patterned cloak draped over their right shoulder. And there is a kid, wearing both a sash like the woman's around their waist and a headband like the man's across their forehead. You know who they must be. The Mother. The Father. The Child. And these ruins are their home. (link: "Walk further")[The Father slowly walks towards the rest of his family, holding a ceremonial staff in front of him. Blacksmith smelted-red beads and downy eagle feathers adorn its top, arranged radially to give the impression of sunlight as torchlight, a divine power granted to man for rule. The Mother and The Child were terrified of it. The Child hid in their mother's arms; The Mother shielded her child from its very sight, clearly shouting at The Father to stay away, though the syllabic articulation is lost underneath the current of pure howling that you hear instead. The Father's words are similarly unrecognized, instead overwhelmed by the timpani reverberation of vocal cords, louder and louder and louder as The Father brandishes his staff ever more violently, pushing The Mother and The Son closer to the building's edge, as The Mother draws a dagger hidden underneath the sash on her back... (link: "Walk further")[|stoplink>[ You take a few more steps, but you're already at the cliff. You can't get any closer. The scene has frozen. The Mother's sandaled heels hanging over the edge of the building. Did something happen? Was something supposed to happen? You're left without an answer.] (if:(history: where its name contains "Drive to C1-Full")'s length >= 1)[(replace: ?stoplink)[(go-to: "C1-Threshold")]] (set: $endReached1 to true)]]]]] [[Return to the car -> C1]]

Stepping onto the trail, you walk towards the ruins. It winds back and forth among the tree trunks, obscuring which direction it will lead you. The source of the whistling meanders around your consciousness, entirely ignorant of the trail's dance. You didn't think about where you would end up, didn't you? (link:"Walk further")[Thankfully, you did not need to. The trail straightens out, the whistling settles behind your field of perception, and then finishes on a high note as you step into a massive clearing buried under jagged adobe debris. Yet the trail remains pristine, looping on itself twenty, thirty times until it settles under the base of a ladder that stretches all the way to the top of a familiar, well-shaped building. If you want to step any closer, you will have to follow the trail's path. No other. (link:"Walk further")[Walking along the path keeps you turning away and back towards the cliff, but the whistling always stays behind you, a compass always pointed opposite of where you need to go. Listen close though, and you can discern that there are now //two// whistling melodies, a duet between a voice from the forest and a voice from the cliff, each answering the other the moment you look away. This conversation wants no part of you. (link:"Walk further")[Nevertheless, as you turn back towards the cliff again, a teenager has peaked his head out of the pit, his eyes scanning the surroundings. Hanging around his shoulders is a silvery cloak. Upon catching this sudden appearance, you try to keep your eyes fixed on him as you walk. When you do, the path //shifts//. Every time when you try to keep your eyes on the cliff, that serpent uncoils beneath your feet, bringing you along like a fragment of rock lodged between its scales. When the dust settles, you're facing the way the path wanted of you. Eventually you give up, instead turning away and facing the path's chosen direction. (link:"Walk further")[By the time you're led to face the cliff again, the teenager has already fully stepped out, beckoning someone else to follow. The next time you loop around, the teenager is pulling someone out of the pit with their wrist. While nothing adorns his forehead, a mask of solemnity swathes The Child's face and a necklace of sweat drips down their neck. Each time you loop back towards this scene, The Child has inched closer towards the gangly ladder, but it's apparent that they are too afraid to climb down. The teenager has realized this as well. With each renewed time you lay eyes on him, he's posed in varying levels of distress and forcefulness. Eventually however, the young man apparently makes a concession. In the next scene, he's unwrapping his cloak. In the next scene, the cloak is tied to his wrist as he wraps the other end around the Child's ankle. In the next scene, the young man has begun to climb down the ladder first. With his connected wrist, he leads The Child's foot onto the first rung. (link:"Walk further")[The next thing you see are arms, emerging from a curtain of darkness to yank The Child back. Both The Child and the young man are frozen stiff. (link:"Walk further")[Unwillingly, you walk along the next turn. Soldiers, wearing tightly-knotted crimson headbands, have emerged from the darkness. So has a different man, carrying a ceremonial staff in one hand and ruffling The Child's hair with the other. You can't see this new person's expression. But you can see The Child's. Their mask has fallen away to pure fear, the fear that a child reserves for only one man in the entire world. (link:"Walk further")[The path loops once more. Then it expands into a patch of grass and dust, dispersing against the cliff's edge. You walk forward. Everything that happened, happens. The Father kicks the ladder down. The teenager is smacked on the forehead by the ladder's rail, knocked cleanly off and into the air. The Child struggles and screams, and two more soldiers have to grab onto The Child's legs to prevent them from being dragged down--- Wait, is that ladder going to fall on top of you? (set: $endReached2 to true) (replace: ?stoplink)[[[Try to catch the falling ladder -> Catch]] [[Try to dodge the falling ladder -> Dodge]]] ]]]]]]] |stoplink>[[[Return to the car ->C2]]]

Stepping onto the trail, you walk towards the ruins. And walk. And walk. You're struck by just how //straight// the trail is, straighter than even the asphalt road you left behind, the road lined out by both engineer and nature itself. The further you walk, the fine gravel beneath you clumps together to form pebbles, melds together to form stones, flattens out until you're walking on honest-to-god paved cobblestone leading to nowhere but an inevitable dead end. What's the more alien to the barren American South: the thermoplastic paint-coated gash through the desert built only for the wayward car ... or this? You think the latter. (link:"Walk further") [As you take your next step, the ground suddenly crumbles beneath your feet. You lose your balance, swallowed by the ground as the cobblestone breaks up into stone and pebble once more, a tetonic rumble that, in your disorientation, sounds like the blowtorch blast you heard earlier. Eventually, everything settles down. You hoist yourself up and take stock of your surroundings. You're standing in a sinkhole fifteen meters in diameter. It is perfectly, disconcertingly circular. Not just the path, but the destruction of it itself, feels deliberately constructed. The sinkhole is deep enough that the rim hides from sight all but the cliff's summit, where a familiar pit-like structure stands. Standing on the structure's rim, you make out, are people. (link:"Climb out of the sinkhole and keep walking") [You claw your way through the sifting rubble. It takes you time, but you eventually hoist yourself back up. You can now see that it isn't just the rim. Lined along all of the cascading concentric rows are soldiers, all cloaked in crimson robes, all wielding spears ... and each forcing a bound prisoner down onto their knees. This is the audience that has gathered on the rooftop, surrounding a cavernous hole in the center. From within, you hear the crackling. (link:"Walk further")[You watch as The Father and The Child walk up unseen steps, down past the rows of soldiers, and pause just before the open pit. They wear mirroring outfits, crimson robes adorning opposite shoulders. The Father raises a ceremonial staff, cueing the nearest soldier to tug their prisoner over. Despite the prisoner's panicked struggle, The Father grabs onto their bindings with just a single hand and drags them over to an ledge overhanging the pit. The Father raises his staff even higher, two hands poised above his head. The soldiers meet the call with thunderous shouts. The crackling yearns. (link:"Walk further")[All you see is a rush of fire before the ground caves beneath your feet once more, the crackle of a blowtorch shredding your eardrums. A long while passes before you can stand up again. (link:"Climb out of the sinkhole and keep walking")[By the time you make it out of the sinkhole, you see that the next prisoner has already been dragged over to the ledge, an elderly woman whose sash reflects the silver in her bedraggled hair. The Father tears this sash off, bundling it around his arm. Then The Child steps forward. They loom over her, hands hidden underneath their cloak. The Father kneels beside his Child, offering up his staff. The Father closes his eyes. The hundreds-strong audience waits. Watching. (link:"Walk further")[With one hand, The Child accepts their Father's staff ... And in one decisive motion, tosses the staff into the pit, which erupts in flame as they undo their cloak. With a fluid spin of their other hand, The Child turns the cloak inside-out and wraps it around the elderly woman's shoulders. It is silver like her hair, with spots of crimson dotting the end of it. Some of the soldiers follow suit, tossing their spears into the pit. They pull out daggers, silvery pieces of cloth trailing from the pommels, and cut their prisoners free. The Father spins around, unable to focus his unbridled rage. The Child takes this opportunity to charge right at him, arms outstretched ready for a barehand tackle. There's still a few more feet left to the trail before it ends against the cliff face. What happens next is up to you. (set: $endReached3 to true) [[Walk to the end -> Bloodshed]] ]]]]]] [[Return to the car -> C3]]

(set: $oneWay = false, $interveneCheck = false, $saveCheck = false) (set: $visits to (array: $endReached1,$endReached2,$endReached3)) (if: $isTankFilled is true AND not($visits contains false) )[(set: $saveCheck = true)] (else-if: $isTankFilled is true AND $visits contains false AND $visits contains true)[(set: $interveneCheck = true)] (else:)[] (if:$saveCheck is true)[(set: $interveneCheck = true)] As you walk back to your car, you start dwelling on what you're supposed to do, with what you've seen and heard ... (if: $saveCheck is true)[The Father does away with The Mother, The Child tries to flee but The Father catches The Child in the act. The Father rounds up all of the dissidents to be sacrificed, The Son resists, and the insuing violence burns the entire city to the ground, with The Son trapped within. That's the story, isn't it? At least, that's the story you were shown, presented as a series of connected events that could have happened over a span of a few years. But you watched the city morph and change from your car, buildings being built and destroyed and rebuilt again. That implies an entire history passing by between each scene you saw. You're missing centuries of context for this story. The only certainty is that this story has a dead end --- the ruins as you saw them before you left that gas station. Speaking of which, didn't that attendant also speak of something like this? You're not the first person to be drawn in by the ruins. Some people have even been stranded here, completely out of gas trying to traverse this tiny stretch of desert. What did they see? What did they do? You're not special, nor is the story you witnessed special. Regardless, this place wants someone, anyone to realize that something //can// change, despite the predetermined fate that all of the stories and travelers find at the end. Maybe The Child can live on, even as history believes that they burned. If so, they have to save themself. You are not, should not, intervene in history you don't belong. Even so, could you find something from before that could help them?] (else-if: $interveneCheck is true)[There's one clear reason for all of this, isn't there? In everything you saw, The Father was the common element of violence, ruthlessly culling all opposition to his rule, even if that would be his own family. In the end, it was his rule that doomed this city. That is what you have seen; that is the story you have been shown. And you were shown all of this for a reason, right? The voices, the visions, the shifting paths --- its as if this cliff refuses to let you leave. You tasted the ash gathering on your tongue. You heard the fire crackle in your ear. You felt the trail shift beneath your feet. If this mythology of a people long gone could affect your present-day ... does it work both ways? Why else would this place keep you here? If that is your preordained task --- to change the course of history --- then you must start with the very beginning.] (else:)[How are you supposed to do anything about this? Because if that fire was real, and that Child really dying, and the noises and screams really not figments of your imagination prompted by that attendant's ominous comments, then this is the most irreverant prank ever --- for god's sake, who's destroying centuries-old heritage just to prank a driver into thinking ghosts are real? If they are real... Then still, what in the world are you supposed to do? They're dead, you're alive, and neither can interact with one another in any way, shape or form. You can't even get up to that cliff in the first place! So forget that thought. The best way to get back at whoever's pranking you is to ignore them entirely. Drive away. Don't look back. And when you get to the gas station, figure out how to call the nearest park ranger to report this crime.] [[Return to the car -> C-Final]]

You raise your hands above your head, grinding your feet into the dirt to brace yourself for the impact... But the ladder //stops//. It hovers just past your fingers, looming across the starry sky --- but still. [[Reach for the ladder -> Reach]] [[Focus your gaze at the cliff top -> Aftermath]]

You run forward, trying to make it to the grassy patch at the cliff's base, the only space where you can roll to the side without splitting your head against rocky debris. But the ladder's falling too fast. Instinctually, you know you won't make it. In a desparate attempt to defy this fate, you dive headfirst towards the grass, in such a low arc that maybe the extra inches of distance between cranium and impending doom will save you. Instead, you belly-skid onto the open patch, unable to course-correct your momentum to dodge in time before--- You feel nothing but a gust of wind on the back of your neck. As you pick yourself up from the ground, you see this mist at your knees, gathering as drops of water on the blades of grass, pouring past you in a perfectly rectangular region where the ladder should have been. But it's gone. [[Focus your gaze at the cliff top -> Aftermath]]

In your prone position, you look back at the cliff scene. The soldiers, gathered like cock-eyed crows. The Child, no longer resisting the soldiers, instead clenches the ankle-tied cloak with both hands. The Father, perched at The Child's feet, fingers poised to claw away at the silver bindings like a vulture at carrion. Then your gaze follows the taut cloak to the bound teenager. Though the others may be still, the teenage has been reduced to a corpse, frozen in rigor mortis, trails of blood dried on the body's face, arm tethered to the shoulder by mere tendons, wrist snapped and hand dangling like that of a strung-up marionette. (link:"What is this feeling...?")[ All of these figures, posed in an impressionistic composition. You can't shake the impression that you're beholding a macabre painting, something that shouldn't be real, something that was made real for the sole purpose of being //witnessed//. |delayedlink>[[[Return to the car ->C2]]] (live: 5s)[ (replace: ?delayedlink)[Then the teenager's eyes lock onto yours. [[Run. -> C2-Return]] ] (stop:)] ]

Your fingers wrap around the rung of this inexplicably spectral ladder. It feels wet to the touch, like misted morning dew had collected on it. Then the full weight of the ladder suddenly bears down on you. Unprepared, you're knocked to the ground, the ladder trapping you under it. You barely have the strength to keep the ladder from crushing your chest, but slowly, in small shifts, you drag your body to the side. With one final shove, you get the ladder off of you, stumbling away with graceless inertia --- and the moment the ladder leaves your fingers, the ladder disappears into a blanket of mist. One moment, it was about to crush you. The next, it gathers as dew on your fingertips. You're left wondering what was actually real. [[Focus your gaze at the cliff top -> Aftermath]]

[You run. But the trail forces you to look.] (for: each _i, ...(range:1,10))[ (after: _i)[You run. But the trail forces you to look.] ] (after: 5.25s)[(go-to: "C2")]

The Child falls upon The Father. The Father overturns and falls upon The Child. A rebel falls upon The Father with their dagger, lodging it into The Father's shoulder blade. A soldier knocks the rebel to the ground, falling upon them with their spear. A released prisoner wrenches the soldier away by the neck, maintaining their stranglehold even as both fall to the ground by the intervention of their comrades. A dagger plunges into the soldier's chest. A spear lodges into the prisoner's eye socket. Both assailants are met with stab wounds threefold, made by assailants met with head trauma tenfold, made by assailants met with death by a thousand cuts, And they all fall. Blood, metal, and flesh tumble into the mouth that had been waiting all this time, for this moment, uncaring of what actually it was feasting on, belching out a inferno ignited by men, fanned by men. Fueled by men. You reach the end of the path. If there is anyone still standing, you cannot see it through the flames. Did you walk over, thinking you could help? Or did you simply have to see? [[Return to the car -> C3]]

You throw the dagger. It's a long shot, even as close to the cliff as you are, and then you have to make it through the slitted window without hurting The Child in the process, how is that going to even make it--- The Child catches the dagger in mid-air. It briefly is silouetted in moonlight, before fading into The Child's fingers. They then get to work. Using the dagger, The Child pries out the mortar between the blocks, dislodging whole bricks at a time with a final strike of their elbow. But the flames grow ever more anxious, wreathing The Child's shoulders, then their arms, then their wrists, until the flames overtook them completely. Not before they throw the dagger back out at you. (link: "Catch the dagger")[You reach out to catch the dagger, but instead of the handle, you realize that the blade will slice right into your palm long after you had the chance to retract your fingers. Instead of a searing pain however, you instead feel a weightless layer of mist coat your palm. The heft of the blade then settles into your hand, but without any of the throw's momentum, the blade doesn't even nick your fingers. The flames have overtaken the building by now. Even so, The Child thought that there's still something you can do? (link: "Start walking backwards")[As you step backward, you watch as the flames retreat into the pit. Hands reach out from the inferno. Then they draw themselves back, and in the same motion, the fire uncoils from their wrists, then arms, then shoulders. The Child emerges from the flames, body wound up for a throw, even though nothing is in their hand. They stumble, as if shaken out of a stupor. The suffocating smoke clears, and The Child looks down at the opening they made in the wall. All of the damage remains. The Child smiles. (link: "Throw the dagger")[You throw the dagger, and The Child catches it once again. With a manic energy granted by a second wind, he tears away at the wall in front of them. Brick after brick falls down with almost rhythmic ease, dissipating into a cloud of glittering moonlight before touching the ground. Eventually, The Child makes a large enough hole to vault themselves through, just as the pressure of the heat within the building reaches a breaking point, sending them flying, falling, [[Catch them. ->SAVE-Contact]] [[Let them fall. ->SAVE-Fall]] ]] [[Return to the car -> C-Final]] ]

(set: $oneWay to true) You make the decision to drive back the way you came. The ruined city now sits on the right side of your car, repeating itself in reverse --- the buildings suddenly bounding from a fire you no longer see to reach their greatest heights, only for their roofs to begin drifting back down like feathers in the wind, deconstructed stone by unlaid stone. Then a woman's scream breaks through the night. You don't slam the brakes this time, but you are surprised. Weren't there supposed to be other iterations to see before reaching here, other supernatural events to witness before hearing this scream again? However, when you check your gas meter, it confirms that you've spent nearly another third of your tank. You've traveled the entire way back. If you want to make it past this cliff, you're going to need to stop here, or turn back and give up. [[Stop where you did before -> C1]] [[Turn back for the final time -> C-Final]]

You take the final few steps left before reaching the cliff. The Mother's dagger gleams with moonlight, then it shines, then the light overwhelms your senses--- And you blink. In that pausing awareness, you hear a tidal wave strike against rocky shore. And then you look. You stand right in front of the cliff, but the trail kept going, a swell of sand and dirt splashed against the cliffside. And the scene above you, unprompted by any of your movement, keeps going. You can now hear them speak, not as echoing yells and screams, but as clearly articulated words, though their language is completely foreign to you. [[Watch. -> C1-Full]]

The Father has the The Mother and The Child forced to the edge of the building, with nowhere to run... Then he drops to his knees. He's crying. Again and again, The Father pleads out the same short phrase as bows his head to the ground, raising his staff above him with open palms. It's only then do you realize that The Father wasn't threatening the other two with the staff. He was desperately holding out the staff, for them to take it away from him. But The Mother and The Child appear deathly afraid of it. The Mother continues to keep her hand on her dagger, whild holding tightly to her Child with her other arm. She's still yelling at The Father, keeping up a stream of diatribes --- but it's faltering. Even she's taken aback by The Father's admission of weakness. The Child only stares at their Father, and the staff in his hands. Their hands twitch uncontrollably against The Mother's grasp. Suddenly, The Child grips his fingernails in, throwing himself out of their Mother's embrace, dropping to the same level as their Father. The Mother stumbles to the side to avoid falling off the building, stunned into silence. The Child says a name. The Father looks up. The Child in response shakingly opens up a hand. A brutally pained smile breaks out on The Father's face. He starts crawling over, struggling forward with the staff in both hands, flat against the ground, like an knocked-down grandfather unable to stand without the support of his walking stick. You almost feel your own bones aging as The Father shakily lifts the staff into his Child's outstretched palm. The Mother screeches out a single word as she draws out her dagger, running at The Father with an overhead lunge. The Father's reaction is as swift as he was weak just a second ago, thrusting his staff to knock the daggger straight out of the Mother's hand, falling off the side of the cliff. Getting to his feet, The Father readies his staff for a blow at the Mother's stomach, intent on sending her the same way, the Child stretching his arm out to stop him but far too late--- The swell of sand, plastered against the cliff face, whooshes back to the ground, scattering the rays of moonlight in such a way that the dust cloud gleams like silvery mist. Suspended within that cloud is the dagger, as still as the figures at the top of the cliff. (set: $haveDagger to false) [[Take the dagger ->Point of No Return]] [[Return to the car -> C1]]

(set: $haveDagger to true) You take the dagger and feel its heft drop into your hand. It's blade is dark in color, pockmarked with craters and sparks of lighter rock fragments. Lit by the moonlight, you can see your own reflection in the blade's face, refracted in the material's imperfections. It strikes you as something not of this world. Something that fell from the stars themselves. You look back up at the cliff. The Father, The Mother, and The Child are still frozen in their decided actions. If you don't stop this now, The Mother will fall. Has this dagger been given to you ... to kill someone? The Father, and stop his senseless violence in the future? The Mother, who's attempt to stab The Father started this whole mess? The Child, who seems to be at the center of why the parents were fighting in the first place? (if: $saveCheck is false)[How else are you supposed to use a dagger? This is your moment, and the only one you'll have to change the course of history. Do it.] (else:)[Or are you not supposed to use this here at all?] [[Kill The Father. -> F-Death]] [[Kill The Mother. -> M-Death]] [[Kill The Child. -> C-Death]] (if: $saveCheck is true)[[[Return to the car -> C1]]] (else:)[]

You throw the dagger. It plunges cleanly into The Father's chest. His staff drops to the ground. He tumbles. He falls. His corpse dissipates into the dust cloud beneath. In that first instant, The Child does not react, stumbling forth with uncontrolled momentum to put themself between their fighting parents. Then the body falls. The Child's gaze focuses on their Mother, first in shock, then in rage. Then they rush at her, pounding their fists against her stomach, screaming the same pained word again and again and again. You need no translation. "Why!?" "Why!?" "Why!?" The Mother does not respond, nor does she try to resist. At first, she seems just as shocked as her Child was. Then she turns her gaze right towards you. There's a recognition that has never been there before, and you're certain, as certain as she is about who really plunged that dagger into The Father's chest, that she sees //you//. Yet, as far as you can tell, she doesn't say a word. Instead, she steps towards the abandoned ceremonial staff, unfazed by The Child's continuing tantrum. She tugs The Child in for an embrace, hiding his gaze away from anything she might do. She focuses her gaze on you one last time, making sure that you are watching closely for what she will do. Satisfied, she kicks the staff off the cliff. You feel yourself thrown back, as if she had kicked you in the groin instead. You're sent flying, a surge of dust carrying you backwards, the trees whisking into a frenzy of unintelligable colors until you lose all sense of distance and time. Then you skid back onto the ground, stopped abruptly by the edge of asphalt. You're out of the forest, sitting right beside your car, staring right at the cliff. The ruins are gone. Not just the mirages, but the original adobe structures that should be there, ghosts being real or not be damned --- all gone. The cliff face, from beginning to end, is a blank slate. There's nothing left for you to do now, but to drive on. [[Drive on ->INTERVENE-F]]

You throw the dagger. It plunges cleanly into The Mother's spine. Her hands, held up in self-defense against The Father's coming blow, drop to her side. She tumbles. She falls. Her corpse dissipates into the dust cloud beneath. In that first instant, The Father does not react, stumbling forth with uncontrolled momentum to finish his staff strike. But the blow barely grazes the side of The Mother's cheek. Instead of a bloodied gash, the edge of a grin streaks across The Mother's face. Then the body falls. The Child's gaze focuses on their Father, first in shock, then in rage. Then they rush at him, pounding their fists against his stomach, screaming the same pained word again and again and again. You need no translation. "Why!?" "Why!?" "Why!?" The Father does not respond, nor does he try to resist. At first, he seems just as shocked as her Child was. Then he turns her gaze right towards you. There's a recognition that has never been there before, and you're certain, as certain as he is about who really plunged that dagger into The Mother's chest, that he sees //you//. Yet, as far as you can tell, he doesn't say a word to you. Instead, he shoves The Child by the shoulder, turning them around to face in your direction. Their eyes meet yours. You watch as their gaze morphs into a splitting image of their Father's rage. The Father points his staff straight at you while turning towards The Child. He begins to speak, while The Child listens intently, tears in their eyes drying up. The speech ends with a question. The Child gives The Father their answer: a hesitant nod, followed by a determined one. Satisfied, the Father plants his staff into the ground. The Child takes the staff into their hand and pulls it back out, before thrusting at you in a clear message: "leave". You feel yourself thrown back, as if they had hit you in the groin directly. You're sent flying, a surge of dust carrying you backwards, the trees whisking into a frenzy of unintelligable colors until you lose all sense of distance and time. Then you skid back onto the ground, stopped abruptly by the edge of asphalt. You're out of the forest, sitting right beside your car, staring right at the cliff. The ruins remain as they were when you approached, but The Father and The Child are out of sight. There's nothing left for you to do now, but to drive on. [[Drive on -> INTERVENE-M]]

You throw the dagger. It plunges cleanly into The Child's throat. Their hands, outstretched in a desperate attempt to stem their parents' coming bloodshed, instead clutch their neck in a desperate attempt to stem the flow of their own blood. They tumble. They fall. Their corpse dissipates into the dust cloud beneath. In that first instant, The Mother does not react, turning her face away to avoid the full brunt of The Father's staff. But when that blow does not land, and in fact someone else's gagging pain echoes in the silence, The Mother opens up her eyes. She sees The Father, leaping after his falling Child. The Mother seizes The Father by the waist, dragging the protesting man back onto stable ground. Robbed of the death he so wished for, The Father starts bashing his forehead against his staff with both hands. Panicking, The Mother can think of nothing but to force her husband's head backward in a tight embrace, her thin forearms shielding The Father from his own self-hatred. The Father can only return that embrace, and they clutch each other, crying, crying. What unnerves you is that, through their tears, the two of them are staring right at you. There's nothing left for you to do now, but to drive on. Before they do something about you. [[Drive on ->INTERVENE-C]]

You keep driving. The mirages of the ruins keep appearing, keep repeating, though your memory isn't good enough to know whether this is the same pattern as before, or whether you made a meaningful change to this tapestry of the city's rise and fall. This goes on for some time, long enough that you should be about to reach the place where you saw The Child die, trapped in flames, where you can see whether what you did was worth it. Then suddenly, you hear a crack, like that of a stick splitting against sheared rock. With that one blow, the ruined city fell. It started with the pit, expanding outward in a hundred thousand thousand echoed cracks, until the falling debris was as fine as as the dust on the trail, the deposited legacy of all of that history, Leaving behind nothing. The ruins you passed by still stand. Yet from this point onward, not just the mirages, but the original adobe structures that should be there, ghosts being real or not be damned --- are all gone. The cliff face is a blank slate. Almost immediately after, you find yourself finally reaching the end of the cliff. You look down at your dashboard. The arrow of the gas meter rests just above "Empty". The gas attendant somehow was right --- you really did need a full tank. And just like with that gas attendant, maybe the best thing to do now is to leave all of this behind ... and bother them no more.

You keep driving. Almost immediately after leaving, you find yourself finally reaching the end of the cliff. You look down at your dashboard. The arrow of the gas meter rests just above "Empty". The gas attendant somehow was right --- you really did need a full tank. And just like with that gas attendant, maybe the best thing to do now is to leave all of this behind ... and bother them no more.

You keep driving. The mirages of the ruins keep appearing, keep repeating, though your memory isn't good enough to know whether this is the same pattern as before, or whether you made a meaningful change to this tapestry of the city's rise and fall. Long before you can return to the site of the fire to know which is the case, you hear a crack, like that of a stick splitting against sheared rock. With that one blow, the ruined city fell. It started with the pit, expanding outward in a hundred thousand thousand echoed cracks, until the falling debris was as fine as as the dust on the trail, the deposited legacy of all of that history, Leaving behind nothing. The ruins you passed by still stand. Yet from this point onward, not just the mirages, but the original adobe structures that should be there, ghosts being real or not be damned --- are all gone. The cliff face is a blank slate. Almost immediately after, you find yourself finally reaching the end of the cliff. You look down at your dashboard. The arrow of the gas meter rests just above "Empty". The gas attendant somehow was right --- you really did need a full tank. And just like with that gas attendant, maybe the best thing to do now is to leave all of this behind ... and bother them no more.

You catch The Child, under their arms, bracing for them to fall right into you. Instead, just like the dagger did, The Child flashes with moonlit mist the moment your fingers touch, before physically manifesting in your grasp, suspended against the silouetting moon. However, their jet black hair, tossled by the fall, obscures their expression from you. Then an outstretched hand plunges a dagger into your chest. Before you react, another set of arms embraces you. Two mirages, identitcal to The Child but translucent and outlined in silver, have appeared in front of you, transfixed in opposite actions. Behind them is the ruined city ... and two more of them, similarly ethereal in appearance, layered on top, as if the centuries of labored adobe was only the foundation for what came next. (link: "What is happening?")[The Child appears, leaping out of your grasp, keeping distance with the dagger between them and you. (after: 3s, (cond: visits > 0, 200ms, 0))[=The Child appears, taking your hand, beckoning you back towards their city. (after: time + 2s, (cond: visits > 0, 200ms, 0))[=The Child appears, running off into the forest where nobody can find them. (after: time + 1.5s, (cond: visits > 0, 200ms, 0))[=The Child appears, running off towards the city without so much as an acknowledging glance. (after: time + 1s, (cond: visits > 0, 200ms, 0))[=More and more of The Children appear, endless permutations of possibilities for this single impossible interaction of past and present, unlocking all of the unrealized futures of this abandoned city, as layer upon layer is built upon each other until the city stretches beyond the whole cliff's height, higher than any skyscraper, until the starry sky and the city are one and the same. The Child in your arms, their face still hidden by their hair, doesn't react to any of this. Whatever you may do, they may respond in the thousands of ways you've just seen play out in front of you. It's up to them. (link: "Set them down onto the ground")[You lower The Child, setting them back on their feet. For a moment they stand there, doing nothing. Then the wind picks up. The city, The Children, they are all swept up by this wind, eroding into dust and carried up like silver dandelions into the stars above. Only The Child you saved remains, who has now taken your hand into their own. The dagger in their grasp melts into mist before manifesting in your own grasp once more. The wind parts their hair. The Child is smiling faintly. Then they let go, joining their brethren among the stars. [[Return to your car and drive on. You did your part. -> MOVE ON]] ]]

You let The Child fall, and so they do. Their body collapses on the ground in front of you. As the debris did, their still body begins to fade into mist. Their shoulders shift. The Child lifts their head up, as if they were simply waking up from a deep slumber. They smile, before disappearing into the wind. So too does the mirage city, eroding into dust and carried up like silver dandelions. Together, they float into the stars, leaving behind the original ruins you saw hours ago, when this city was still dead to you. But now you know. It never was. [[Return to your car and drive on. You did your part. -> MOVE ON]]

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