Sigil Reader (Field)
by verityvirtue (2016)

I am a sigil reader. I work in a city where sigils are a matter of public health, for a maliciously inscribed sigil could mean the ruin of a business - or a soul. Except today I wake to a changed world. The sigils are distorted. And the Station is silent. I fear I am responsible. A short parser game about exploration, loss and restoration.

action: %
response: Would you like a primer on interactive fiction? (Type yes or no, then hit ENTER.)
action: You go north
response: A boom rolled through my body.

When I woke, it was high noon, and the air was dead.

Press any key to proceed.
Sigil Reader (Field)

Concrete floor. Linoleum ceiling... How long had I been out?

Or was it just me? I looked around the lobby, familiar as my own
shoes: it was narrow, and it was where captured objects or monsters to be quarantined were logged.

Anyone with a staff ID could tap in to the north, and to the east was the quarantine room. The red light above the doorway was dark.

A card scanner, installed after we heard about the Kampong Slasher, prevented unauthorised personnel from entering the main offices.

Plaques covered the wall of the Station Lobby.

A reception desk took centre stage, a bastion of sense against
whatever the public had to offer.
action: About yourself
response: T-shirt. Jeans. Black leather boots, heavy and sturdy, but my
footsteps felt light. As if my feet weren't touching the floor.
action: You look at what you're carrying with you
response: I was carrying:
a pair of boots (being worn)
a pair of jeans (being worn)
a t-shirt (being worn)
a brass key
action: You examine the key
response: A brass-coloured key the length of my little finger.
action: You examine the jeans
response: Blue jeans. Empty pockets.

I'd be a bit more settled if I could examine the sigils in this place.
action: You examine Sigil
response: Which do you mean, the protection sigil, sigil of speed or the sigil
of silence?
action: You examine the protection sigil
response: A swirling sign encircled in jasper, just one of the many wards that guarded the Station. But protected by whom? I frowned; this sigil was distorted, like it was half-melted. Had something breached its protective borders?

It was all coming back.

Something made me look down, and there was my ID card clipped to my belt. Had it always been there?
action: You look at card
response: (the ID card)
This card allowed me access into the staff-only areas of the Station. My name was Priyanka Ramasamy and my rank was Sigil Reader (Field). I was the only one in the Station who knew about sigils.
action: Inventory
response: I was carrying:
an ID card
a pair of boots (being worn)
a pair of jeans (being worn)
a t-shirt (being worn)
a brass key
action: You examine the key
response: A brass-coloured key the length of my little finger.
action: You look around
response: Concrete floor. Linoleum ceiling... How long had I been out?

Or was it just me? I looked around the lobby, familiar as my own
shoes: it was narrow, and it was where captured objects or monsters to be quarantined were logged.

Anyone with a staff ID could tap in to the north, and to the east was the quarantine room. The red light above the doorway was dark.

A card scanner, installed after we heard about the Kampong Slasher, prevented unauthorised personnel from entering the main offices.

Plaques covered the wall of the Station Lobby.

A reception desk took centre stage, a bastion of sense against
whatever the public had to offer.
action: You look at the red light
response: The alarm for the Quarantine Room. It was triggered by dark, fire, and a host of other things.
action: You examine the plaques
response: Varnished wooden plates, with the names of past directors engraved in gold, for having done something valiant or other.
action: You read the plaques
response: One of them reads, "This Certificate of Excellence is awarded to TAN
AH LONG, Director of Station 31 (2010-2012) in recognition of his loyalty and principle to the end. Special recognition for services to DRIP."
action: You look at the desk
response: The front of the desk had a metal crest, a shape I had seen thousands of times, yet in my present state I could not picture it with my eyes closed.

Peering round the other side of the desk, my eyes were drawn
inexorably to the sigil of speed.

There was a metallic crash from the office space.
action: You look at the crest
response: (the crest)
I made out only individual parts: a swirl here. A triangle there. But all together they made little sense to me.
action: You remember Slasher
response: Nothing comes to mind.
action: You remember yourself
response: I must have worked here once.
action: You go to the north
response: The office space resembled a sports hall: high-ceilinged, with glass panels near the ceiling. Moonlight streamed through those panels, casting glowing shadows.

A whiteboard stood in front of a row of tables, with half a scribble
in sigil notation. Smashed against one wall was a metal locker. How
had I missed that before?

To the east was the office lounge. To the west was the registration office. The lobby lay to the south, while more office cubicles lay to the north.

A standing whiteboard had been pushed to one side.

I could also see a gear locker here.
action: You read the whiteboard
response: Nothing was written on the whiteboard.
action: You look at the locker
response: This metal file cabinet had been bought specially for the new Station. It held all the various weapons and assorted equipment that field agents used. On the door was a protection sigil. Already it had become pocked with rust on the corners.
action: You examine the protection sigil
response: A swirling sign embossed right into the metal of the locker. In this case, it was probably to protect the equipment inside. This sigil was warped. Had something breached its protective borders?
action: You open locker
response: I opened the gear locker, revealing a group photo, a faded body armour and a Mingsheng's body armour.
action: You look at the armour
response: Which do you mean, the faded body armour or the Mingsheng's body armour?
action: Faded
response: The fabric on this stabproof vest smelled faintly of sweat, and bore a name tape in front. It read Priyanka Ramasamy.
action: Wear faded
response: (first taking the faded body armour)
It was too late for this now.
action: You examine Mingsheng
response: The only other vest in this locker - this was much newer than the other, and the nametape in front read "Lim Mingsheng".
action: You wear Mingsheng
response: (first taking the Mingsheng's body armour)
Yes, and what would I do with Mingsheng's vest? He hadn't seemed to
get much use out of it, either.
action: You look athe t-shirt
response: A plain white t-shirt. Well, there was a small stain high up on the chest. Probably sauce. I couldn't remember.
action: Look around
response: The office space resembled that of a sports hall, high-ceilinged, with glass panels near the ceiling. Moonlight streamed through those
panels, casting glowing shadows.

a rough grid pattern. In front of the tables, there was a whiteboard - did it have so many scribbles the last time I saw it?.

To the east was a closed door. To the west was another room. The lobby lay to the south, while more office cubicles lay to the north.

A standing whiteboard had been pushed to one side.

I could also see a gear locker (in which were a group photo, a faded body armour and a Mingsheng's body armour) here.
action: You examine photo
response: I saw a group of people, clad in heavy gear, arms around each other's shoulders. Their faces were familiar, but if I examined some of the detritus left in the station, I might be able to dredge up their
names.
action: You examine the whiteboard
response: An invaluable addition to group meetings. Where it had been empty before, it was now filled with notes. To one side, there was a note: "DON'T DO ANYTHING TO HIM UNTIL CLEARANCE!!!".
action: You remember the clearance
response: Nothing comes to mind.
action: You remember Mingsheng
response: I recalled the name, and I'd recognise him if I met him on the street.

He was an intern, same as Gladys, who'd joined us not too long ago after leaving uni. We sometimes wondered. He'd had outstanding grades; he could have gotten government scholarships. And yet he came here.
action: Look around
response: The office space resembled that of a sports hall, high-ceilinged, with glass panels near the ceiling. Moonlight streamed through those
panels, casting glowing shadows.

a rough grid pattern. In front of the tables, there was a whiteboard.

To the east was a closed door. To the west was another room. The lobby lay to the south, while more office cubicles lay to the north.

A standing whiteboard had been pushed to one side.

I could also see a gear locker (in which were a group photo, a faded body armour and a Mingsheng's body armour) here.
action: You remember Gladys
response: She... I'd worked with her, once. Nice girl, wasn't she?
action: You move the whiteboard
response: It was fixed in place.
action: You look at the panels
response: Several panes of glass were set in the ceiling at an angle and served as a skylight.
action: You examine the chairs
response: Just some plastic chairs. If I hadn't been told otherwise, I'd have thought they were castoffs from a school.
action: You go east
response: This was our lounge, and it was empty, which never happened. Paltry as it looked, it was where everyone congregated. To the west lay the exit out to the office space.

A fancy television took pride of place in the room.

In a corner was the heart of the lounge, the bar fridge.

A large beanbag leaned against the bar fridge.
action: You look at the beanbag
response: A red and grey thing filled with small plastic beads. I did not think
I had ever sat in such an impractical thing, but I vaguely recalled it being received with great joy from my colleagues.
action: You sit
response: What do you want to sit on?
action: Beanbag
response: I got onto the beanbag.
action: Look around
response: Office Lounge (on the beanbag)
This was our lounge. Paltry as it looked, it was where everyone congregated. To the west lay the exit out to the office space.

A fancy television took pride of place in the room.

In a corner was the heart of the lounge, the bar fridge.
action: You examine the television
response: (the television)
A state of the art piece of technology which was one of the selling points of this place. It almost made up for its location in a remote corner of Perigosan. I remembered watching sports on the thing, though I personally couldn't see the point.

The television was switched off.
action: You turn on the television
response: The television faded into life, showing a staticky rendition of
teasers for TV show episodes. I had seen each of these for weeks, countless times over. Prodding the TV to change the channel only
showed me the same teasers, but in different languages.
action: You examine the fridge
response: The bar fridge was a small machine, bought with office funds, which whirred continuously while only being slightly cold.
action: You open the fridge
response: I opened the tiny bar fridge, revealing a packet of chips and a jar of pickles.
action: You remember the pickles
response: I recalled that I liked a good bit of achar, which is cucumber,
carrot, baby corn and whatever else you think fit to put in, pickled with vinegar and tumeric.
action: You take the chips
response: We in the Station liked our snacks starchy, crispy and preferably fried.

I was not hungry. I didn't think I would be for a long, long while.
action: You eat the chips
response: I restrained myself. I would really rather not.
action: You watch the tv
response: A state of the art piece of technology which was one of the selling points of this place. It almost made up for its location in a remote corner of Perigosan. I remembered watching sports on the thing, though I personally couldn't see the point.

The television was switched on.
action: Look around
response: Office Lounge (on the beanbag)
This was our lounge. Paltry as it looked, it was where everyone congregated. To the west lay the exit out to the office space.

A fancy television took pride of place in the room.

In a corner was the heart of the lounge, the bar fridge.
action: Go west
response: (first getting off the beanbag)

The office space resembled that of a sports hall, high-ceilinged, with glass panels near the ceiling. Moonlight streamed through those
panels, casting glowing shadows.

a rough grid pattern. In front of the tables, there was a whiteboard.

To the east was the office lounge. To the west was another room. The lobby lay to the south, while more office cubicles lay to the north.

A standing whiteboard had been pushed to one side.

I could also see a gear locker (in which were a group photo, a faded body armour and a Mingsheng's body armour) here.
action: Go west
response: The sign at the door said "Registration Office", yes, but, over time, it had evolved into a holding room of sorts for visitors, even if it was poky and uncomfortable. It also served as temporary storage room, post office and junkyard. A gunky window let in the noon sun, and the rest of the office space lay to the east.

A scarf hung from the door.

Blurry Polaroids were pinned to the noticeboard.

A traditional paper calendar peeked out from behind the Polaroids.
action: You look at Polaroids
response: A cluster of photos, showing the Station staff, including non-field staff, at an evening function. The field director getting awards. The mud-spattered faces of Carlotta and Mingsheng, after a training exercise.
action: You remember Carlotta
response: She was initially transferred from Punggol Station, I think, back on the mainland, in the thought that she would be a kind, motherly figure to the fledgling Station. Ha! She was taciturn, sardonic, and the
least likely to be caught crying in public.
action: You examine the scarf
response: A wispy silk creation, printed with lilacs. There was a curly "G" in the corner, for the brand of the scarf, but it also stood for Gladys, to whom this scarf belonged. Beside this, someone had embroidered the glamour sigil. Perhaps I could try remembering her.
action: You remember the scarf
response: Nothing comes to mind.
action: You take the scarf
response: That had never been my scarf. It slipped through my fingers.
action: You remember Gladys
response: One of the interns. She was a bit like Carlotta: always ready with a smile and, in some cases, a sweet. She was always friendly, and delightful to be around, although she could get astonishingly naggy
for her age.
action: You look at the calendar
response: It was the type of calendar which had one date on each sheet of paper. Each day, you had to tear the previous day's sheet off. Besides the date, there was also important information: the corresponding date on the Chinese lunar calendar, horse racing dates and public holidays.

The date on the calendar was 18th March, 2015.
action: You read the glamour sigil
response: This sigil cast a dazzling effect on the viewer, making the owner of the sigil more attractive in their eyes. It was sometimes used on fashion products. This sigil had the particular quirk of making the inscriber a tiny bit more narcissistic every time they inscribed it.
action: Inventory
response: I was carrying:
an ID card
a pair of boots (being worn)
a pair of jeans (being worn)
a t-shirt (being worn)
a brass key
action: You take the calendar
response: Taken.
action: Look around
response: The sign at the door said "Registration Office", yes, but, over time, it had evolved into a holding room of sorts for visitors, even if it was poky and uncomfortable. It also served as temporary storage room, post office and junkyard. A gunky window let in the noon sun, and the rest of the office space lay to the east.

A scarf hung from the door.

Blurry Polaroids were pinned to the noticeboard.
action: Flip calendar
response: Hm, no. I didn't want to. Things had changed (exactly how? Don't ask me... not yet.) too much and I wouldn't be able to put them back.
Look: I just had this feeling that there was no more tomorrow - not
for me, anyway.
action: You go to the east
response: The office space resembled that of a sports hall, high-ceilinged, with glass panels near the ceiling. Moonlight streamed through those
panels, casting glowing shadows.

a rough grid pattern. In front of the tables, there was a whiteboard.

To the east was the office lounge. To the west was the registration office. The lobby lay to the south, while more office cubicles lay to the north.

A standing whiteboard had been pushed to one side.

I could also see a gear locker (in which were a group photo, a faded body armour and a Mingsheng's body armour) here.
action: You take the photo
response: That was fixed in place.
action: You remember Mingsheng
response: He always had a joke or something funny to say, most often about his dog. But he was also a keen one in various forms of martial arts. He'd gone for championships. If he hadn't joined DRIP, he might have joined the police.

He was an intern, same as Gladys, who'd joined us not too long ago after leaving uni. We sometimes wondered. He'd had outstanding grades; he could have gotten government scholarships. And yet he came here.
action: You remember the DRIP
response: The Defense Research Institute of Perigosan. Don't ask me who came up with the acronym, because that's just embarrassing. This government agency regulated and sponsored any research to do with defense, including military research. The Stations were set up to deal with magical and cryptozoological issues in the field.
action: Go north
response: More desks and chairs. To the east was a closed wooden door. The
office space was to the south.

To the west was the door to the shower, which I deduced from the waterstains creeping up from the bottom.

A framed photo stood on one of the desks.

One of these desks was especially familiar, and I felt I should know
it better.
action: You look at the photo
response: The photo showed a smiling Mingsheng. His arm was around a happy-looking dog. The background was a blur of leaf green.

I stared at his face, before realising that I did not recognise him because the last time I saw him, his face had been distorted with
fear.
action: You remember Mingsheng
response: He always had a joke or something funny to say, most often about his dog. But he was also a keen one in various forms of martial arts. He'd gone for championships. If he hadn't joined DRIP, he might have joined the police.

He was an intern, same as Gladys, who'd joined us not too long ago after leaving uni. We sometimes wondered. He'd had outstanding grades; he could have gotten government scholarships. And yet he came here.
action: Look around
response: More desks and chairs. To the east was a closed wooden door. The
office space was to the south.

To the west was the door to the shower.

A framed photo stood on one of the desks.

One of these desks was especially familiar, and I felt I should know
it better.
action: You take the photo
response: Taken.
action: You examine the desk
response: (the familiar desk)
When I touched this desk, I felt like something slid into place. I
knew this desk. It was my desk! I knew its grooves and furrows by heart. I recognised the rings where I had put a wet cup one too many times.

This desk had a drawer, which was closed.
action: You open the drawer
response: (first unlocking the drawer)
(with the brass key)
I opened the drawer, revealing a chassis and a D-cell battery.
action: You examine the chassis
response: This small tube was glossy and had a nice heft in the hand - no surprise, considering it was made partly of black jasper. A notch in the interior of the tube meant that it could fit something at the end
- a cap, or a lens. The corresponding lens was probably somewhere in the Station.
action: Look around
response: More desks and chairs. To the east was a closed wooden door. The
office space was to the south.

To the west was the door to the shower.

My desk was here as well.
action: You remember yourself
response: I was the sigil reader in these parts. Carlotta was my direct boss,
and while the field direction was supposed to be the one supervising
us all, he never really made an appearance. Mingsheng would always say the field director was off playing golf again. Anyway, I knew my sigils, mutable as they could be, and I could authorised to inscribe them where needed.
action: Go west
response: (first opening the waterstained door)

I opened the door to a small shower area. The floor was tiled royal blue with aquamarine accents. Air vents opened to the outside, and let in some sun. The exit was in the east.

If I remained very, very still, I could still feel the walls shudder and... if I stretched out my hand... a warmth in a corner. What had been a person here. Not in the shower, but near the door.

What had happened here?

To the east was the exit to the office.

A gleaming, iridescent lens lay on the floor of the shower. Had it rolled out from someone's pocket?
action: You put the lens in the chassis
response: The lens slid into place. I could now inspect things if I
wanted to.

I put the chitinous lens into the chassis.
action: You look at your surroundings
response: I opened the door to a small shower area. The floor was tiled royal blue with aquamarine accents. Air vents opened to the outside, and let in some sun. The exit was in the east.

If I remained very, very still, I could still feel the walls shudder and... if I stretched out my hand... a warmth in a corner. What had been a person here. Not in the shower, but near the door.

What had happened here?

To the east was the exit to the office.
action: Inventory
response: I was carrying:
a chassis
a chitinous lens
a framed photo
a paper calendar
an ID card
a pair of boots (being worn)
a pair of jeans (being worn)
a t-shirt (being worn)
a brass key
action: You go east
response: The door opened up to a private office, small by directorial
standards. It had space enough for shelves, stuffed with ring binders, a desk and two chairs. The rest of the offices lay to the west.

In the centre of the desk was a rabbit skull, its bony surface burnished after years of contact with fingers.

A newspaper article stuck out from under the rabbit skull.

My notebook lay on the desk.
action: You examine notebook
response: I started this notebook early in my first DRIP posting - it still had my name, Priyanka Ramasamy, written on the cover in faded marker. I could read this, if I wanted to.
action: You read notebook
response: Amongst the maps of Perigosan taped into the pages were notes on reading sigil notation, a shorthand for particularly dangerous sigils. A lot of this notation was in symbols difficult to render in normal text, but I could read it fluently. I had recorded sigils found in the wild: on walls, in letters and, in one case, on someone's body.

On the last page, "Kpg Slasher" was written at the top of the page and underline. Below, I'd only scribbled, "near sight?? but where?".
action: You take the notebook
response: Taken.

A folded piece of foolscap had been wedged in between the pages. I
took it out carefully.
action: You look at the foolscap
response: I initially took it for a piece of scrap paper. As I opened it, I
found it was covered with the field director's handwriting, and headed with the title PRESS RELEASE. Informative. Not all of it was legible.
action: You read the press
response: (illegible) regret to confirm the deaths of Agents Priyanka
Ramasamy and Lim Mingsheng (illegible) attacker was confirmed to be (illegible) while waiting to be transferred to police custody...
action: You look at the skull
response: Its surface was beige and pitted with flecks of brown. It was small, with huge eye sockets, and a distant memory of O level biology
informed me that this was a rabbit skull.
action: You take the skull
response: Even before this, I never liked to touch, you know, animal bits. There was a reason I was vegetarian, right? You know. So, no. Ew.
action: Look around
response: The door opened up to a private office, small by directorial
standards. It had space enough for shelves, stuffed with ring binders, a desk and two chairs. The rest of the offices lay to the west.

In the centre of the desk was a rabbit skull, its bony surface burnished after years of contact with fingers.

A newspaper article stuck out from under the rabbit skull.
action: You look at the article
response: It was a news article about Station 31. In the photo was a photo of a grumpy-looking man. Stubble covered his chin; his eyes were sunken. Reading the article would tell me more, and probably explain why he
was shown going into our Quarantine Room.
action: You read it
response: Some words remained beyond focus, though the words were already clearing up: "...had been found responsible for a wave of violence
that swept Perigosan... Joseph Tan, under the moniker "the Kampong Slasher"...", "...had been waiting to be transferred to police custody...", "...initially believed to be an artifact..."

As I read the article, or what I could make of it, I found myself holding a small horn key.

I heard the sound of tearing fabric, and my fingers closed around a torchlight.
action: You check your inventory
response: I was carrying:
a torchlight
a horn key
a newspaper article
a draft press release
a sigil notebook
a chassis
a chitinous lens
a framed photo
a paper calendar
an ID card
a pair of boots (being worn)
a pair of jeans (being worn)
a t-shirt (being worn)
a brass key
action: You look at the horn key
response: A key hewn of the horn of some monster. This key unlocked the Quarantine Room door. The shaft of the key was covered in dense inscriptions of not just sigils but other prayers to unknown gods.
When I was still fascinated by these inscriptions, I would spend idle hours making them out. I was pretty sure one of them was simply, "HELP."
action: You examine the torchlight
response: (the torchlight)
It was a short black torchlight, too light to be used as a bludgeon, too weak to dazzle unwary agents. We'd let the strange man keep it. Should we have known that this was the Kampong Slasher?

The torchlight was switched off.
action: You switch on the torchlight
response: (the torchlight)
This thing wouldn't give light unless it had a battery in it.
action: Inspect torchlight
response: (the torchlight)
I spotted no traces of hidden sigils.
action: Look around
response: The door opened up to a private office, small by directorial
standards. It had space enough for shelves, stuffed with ring binders, a desk and two chairs. The rest of the offices lay to the west.

In the centre of the desk was a rabbit skull, its bony surface burnished after years of contact with fingers.
action: You go to the west
response: More desks and chairs. To the east was the door leading to the field director's office. The office space was to the south.

To the west was the door to the shower.

My desk was here as well.
action: You look at the desk
response: (the familiar desk)
When I touched this desk, I felt like something slid into place. I
knew this desk. It was my desk! I knew its grooves and furrows by heart. I recognised the rings where I had put a wet cup one too many times.

This desk had a drawer, which was open to reveal a D-cell battery.
action: You take the battery
response: (the D-cell battery)
Taken.
action: You put battery in torchlight
response: (the D-cell battery in the torchlight)
The torchlight's battery compartment was closed.
action: You open the torchlight
response: I opened the torchlight's battery compartment.
action: You put battery in the torchlight
response: (the D-cell battery in the torchlight)
I put the D-cell battery into the torchlight's battery compartment.
action: Close torchlight
response: I closed the torchlight's battery compartment.
action: You switch on the torchlight
response: (the torchlight)
It was too bright for me to see what was being projected. The noon
sun, even filtered through the windows, washed out the torchlight's beam. I'd need a completely enclosed room for this.
action: Look around
response: More desks and chairs. To the east was the door leading to the field director's office. The office space was to the south.

To the west was the door to the shower.

My desk was here as well.
action: You close the door
response: I closed the waterstained door.
action: You turn on the torchlight
response: It was too bright for me to see what was being projected. The noon
sun, even filtered through the windows, washed out the torchlight's beam. I'd need a completely enclosed room for this.
action: Go east
response: (first opening the waterstained door)

More desks and chairs. To the east was the door leading to the field director's office. The office space was to the south.

To the west was the door to the shower.

My desk was here as well.
action: You go to the south
response: The office space resembled that of a sports hall, high-ceilinged, with glass panels near the ceiling. Moonlight streamed through those
panels, casting glowing shadows.

a rough grid pattern. In front of the tables, there was a whiteboard.

To the east was the office lounge. To the west was the registration office. The lobby lay to the south, while more office cubicles lay to the north.

A standing whiteboard had been pushed to one side.

I could also see a gear locker (in which were a group photo, a faded body armour and a Mingsheng's body armour) here.
action: Go east
response: This was our lounge. Paltry as it looked, it was where everyone congregated. To the west lay the exit out to the office space.

A fancy television took pride of place in the room.

In a corner was the heart of the lounge, the bar fridge.

A large beanbag leaned against the bar fridge.
action: You look at the boots
response: Leather boots. Well-worn. A crest was stamped on the heel, familiar as a remembered texture.
action: You go south
response: The narrow lobby was where captured objects or monsters to be quarantined were logged.

Anyone with a staff ID could tap in to the north, and to the east was the quarantine room. The red light above the doorway was dark.

A card scanner, installed after we heard about the Kampong Slasher, prevented unauthorised personnel from entering the main offices.

Plaques covered the wall of the Station Lobby.

A reception desk took centre stage, a bastion of sense against
whatever the public had to offer.
action: You go north
response: I tapped my ID card on the scanner and it beeped like a disgruntled kitten.

The office space resembled that of a sports hall, high-ceilinged, with glass panels near the ceiling. Moonlight streamed through those
panels, casting glowing shadows.

a rough grid pattern. In front of the tables, there was a whiteboard.

To the east was the office lounge. To the west was the registration office. The lobby lay to the south, while more office cubicles lay to the north.

A standing whiteboard had been pushed to one side.

I could also see a gear locker (in which were a group photo, a faded body armour and a Mingsheng's body armour) here.
action: Go east
response: I slid the horn key into the lock and the door clicked open.

This room was completely sealed and, despite the weather outside, chilly. The walls and floor were solid concrete. No windows. This room was built not to have weaknesses.

LED panels would normally light up the room, but the panel casing had been cracked. Why was this room dark? Too many monsters thrived in shadow. I had to bring light into this place.

The way out was to the west.
action: You turn on the torchlight
response: In the gloom of the Quarantine Room, the beam of the torchlight was much clearer, and for the first time I saw why the Kampong Slasher was carrying this.

In the puddle of light was the sigil of near sight, the most dangerous sigil of all, for it whispered sweetly of violence in darkness -- and this was the only place in the station in which it was dark enough to do that.

There was a monstrous knocking at the outside of the Station: more a booming than knocking. I sensed that the sound was coming from the lobby.
action: Look around
response: This room was completely sealed and, despite the weather outside, chilly. The walls and floor were solid concrete. No windows. This room was built not to have weaknesses.

LED panels would normally light up the room, but the panel casing had been cracked. Why was this room dark? Too many monsters thrived in shadow. I had to bring light into this place.

The way out was to the west.
action: You look at Sigil
response: (the sigil notebook)
I started this notebook early in my first DRIP posting - it still had my name, Priyanka Ramasamy, written on the cover in faded marker. I could read this, if I wanted to.
action: You turn on the torch
response: In the gloom of the Quarantine Room, the beam of the torchlight was much clearer, and for the first time I saw why the Kampong Slasher was carrying this.

In the puddle of light was the sigil of near sight, the most dangerous sigil of all, for it whispered sweetly of violence in darkness -- and this was the only place in the station in which it was dark enough to do that.
action: You examine Sigil of the near sight
response: This was a sigil I'd only imagined, read about in books, seen written in sigil notation (and those were always distorted such that they
would never form a working sigil).In my years of working here, I had only seen the sigil of near sight once, and only once, because no one was allowed - by law! - to inscribe it within Perigosan limits. Though how could the law stop someone? It was, if not perfect, then a very good weapon.
action: You jump
response: I gave a masterful leap. I was mainly a scholar, not an athlete.
action: Go west
response: The reception desk stood, devoid of human presence. But where there
had once been a wall filled with plaques and the main door, now there was only a broken wall and the outside was to the south.

A card scanner, installed after we heard about the Kampong Slasher, prevented unauthorised personnel from entering the main offices.

Plaques covered the wall of the Station Lobby.

A reception desk took centre stage, a bastion of sense against
whatever the public had to offer.
action: You look at the desk
response: The front of the desk had a metal crest, a shape I had seen thousands of times, yet in my present state I could not picture it with my eyes closed.

Peering round the other side of the desk, my eyes were drawn
inexorably to the sigil of speed.
action: Go south
response: I found myself in a narrow alley. The walls around me were dotted with exposed wires and satellite dishes and water pipes; this obvious
breach of health and safety would never have been tolerated anywhere
in Perigosan but in the Walled City. And I knew this place: there were precious few names for it, but this was where we'd once uncovered a rift in the fabric of this dimension... pretty much.

A towel flapped in a sudden gust of wind.
action: You examine the towel
response: What little fabric was not soaked through with dried blood was stained from frequent use. The corner of the towel was marked with a name tape reading "Mingsheng", and the logo proudly proclaimed it to be from a local dojo.

From behind me, I heard somebody saying: "Priyanka? Priyanka! Do you know that Gladys has been trying to get to you, but she kept getting
me instead?"

I turned, and true to life, there was Carlotta! Quizzical look on her face. Feet floating slightly above the floor. I should talk to
her.
action: 3
response: "Carlotta, why are your feet not touching the ground?"

"Priyanka, you sure you work for DRIP?" she says, with a teasing
smile.
action: 1
response: Carlotta smiled, and suddenly I felt like I was home again. "I don't know if you've reached the same conclusion by yourself, but you're dead."

"Bit of a conversation... killer, isn't it?"

Carlotta rolls her eyes. "Still making jokes! Anyway, apparently
Gladys has been trying to scry either of us for a week to figure out what happened. She could only find me, and she asked me to find you, kind of. It's nice to be back, isn't it?"
action: 2
response: Carlotta gave me a Look, the one which hinted that I might not like what she was going to say next.

"I think I scry for you to see, better than I tell stories, huh?" We went in to the staff shower, to the full length mirror, and she closed her eyes.

Carlotta gave me a Look, the one which hinted that I might not like what she was going to say next.

"I think I scry for you to see, better than I talk talk talk at you." So we went in to the staff shower, to the full length mirror, and she closed her eyes.

the Quarantine Room alarm goes off. I go in, inscribing knife still in hand, and the airlock doors shut behind me.

"Do you remember this part?" she asks, and I nod.

The Kampong Slasher had tucked his blanket over the light casing, blocking out not all, but enough, light. As I reach for the blanket,
he takes out his torchlight and turns it on. My eyes go to the pool of light, naturally. I take in the sigil of near sight, naturally. One glance is enough.

When I emerge, my eyes are red-rimmed and watery. Mingsheng is
rushing at me (or I him?) - and I catch him in the stomach with--

I can't bear to see any more. I turn away, but the alley around me is fading into white like a cheap TV transition. The last thing I feel before nothingness takes over is her hand on my arm.

"It wasn't your fault," she says, from a long, long way away.