Offsets
Offset 0
Offset 1
Offset 2
Offset 3
Offset 4
Info
This nightmare is the brain child of Spectre48, made for the 2025Charcon contest.
I… don't have many words to describe this one.
Special thanks to Mel-Raspberry for their INCREDIBLE oversight of the whole thing,
ReyDay, and
Praetor3005.
It had only been a few hours since leaving Anthony's desk, but I had already received a message through my personal voice box: A rendezvous had been set, and I was to meet my reconnaissance partner at a certain "bus stop" in the infinite city.
I do not know what this "bus stop" is, but I'd followed the directions provided. To be honest, this open glass box hardly seems like it would be able to halt a standard human automobile, much less a vehicle of large size. If you truly wanted to stop a bus, why not construct this odd piece of architecture out of something more stable? Humans never ceased to confuse me with their backwards way of scientific and mathematical thinking. I just hope the bus this glass box is meant to stop doesn't arrive until after our departure.
I retrieve my voice box from my Circle-provided carrying unit— a backpack of large space, but little weight. Perhaps some conversation with Anthony could pass the time.
"Khi'ssath n'estosss m'ylakkai? N'ilph'akk eph'nyrrrrrosai?"1
I jump at the sound of a voice behind me— the sudden noise was startling enough on its own, but this voice… it was speaking Styxian. I quickly get up from my seat, turning around to see who I presume to be Spec, leaning forward against the back of the bench.
"Ph'esa'r kli'noss thyn'attos? Zeph'mmakka th'ossai."2
I am met only with a confused head tilt from my new associate, and he quickly steps out from behind the bench. I take a few steps back, but all he does is start rifling through his carrying-bag.
"Ss'aph'a, kli'ttos myr'pphos n'eta— M'or'rba Benadryl n'aphosss… M'or'rba grape n'y bubble gum ph'laivos… N'eph'os, z'eth'asstos kh'ess'a—-"3
I take a deep breath. I don't understand… what is he speaking of? I decide to rephrase my initial query.
"Th'osss Spec, n'eth'ossa? Ph'esa'r kli'noss thyn'attos? Kla'on eth'ssai z'nyphyllos?"4
Spec stops rifling through his bag, looking down as if he's thinking about something. A few moments later, he reaches into his pocket as he approaches me.
"Z'eph'kkai Gaylien, m'or'rba eph'ollosss n'eth'asai. M'khlattos z'eth'a khy'pph…"5
Spec hands me a small plastic tube— I fail to see the significance of this object… it doesn't appear to be good for eating. The size and shape remind me of the baby carrots they serve in the base cafeteria. Either way, he clearly expects me to do something with this, as he begins making a swiping motion across his lips.
"Kh'eph'a n'aphyllos ny m'yrph'a n'eth'ailos, ph'esa'kk."6
Seeing no point in continuing, I oblige.
"I don't see the point of this… sticky material. And what are you speaking of? Holding horses? 'Gaylien?' What do these words even mean?"
Once again surprising me with the least expected response, Spec sighs in relief, pacing around in a circle.
"Simply put, straight people don't wear clothes like that. Anyways, now that we've got the language barrier out of the way, name's Spec— I'd say pleasure to make your acquaintance, but considering the WONDERFUL adventure we're about to embark on, I doubt your opinion of me will be very high by the end of the day."
I stare at this odd human. Even by the standards of his species, he's… weird. I suppose they don't call us "persons of interest" for nothing.
"Wait… why are you only responding now? I do not understand…"
Spec opens his palm, and the plastic tube flies out of my own— back into his. He gives me a confused look.
"Uh… Babel Balm? You've been here for how long, and you still haven't seen Babel Balm? Sucks to be you, I guess. Oh well, we're burning daylight, let's go on and get!"
Without even a moment's hesitation, this peculiar person has already begun walking away from me. I quickly catch up, but I'm still relatively in the dark about what is happening. I need him to slow down.
"Spec, what are we even doing? How are we going to safely access Level 400? What's your plan?"
Spec finally stops, turning around. He smiles at me, of all things.
I don't see what there is to smile about.
"IMPROVISE~!"
I am going to die.