( The ground beneath his feet is shiny and slick-wet, black enough that some patches of it have gone as reflective as pavement puddles under streetlamps after a rainstorm. It ripples as he walks, but strangely, his footsteps make no sound. His breathing makes no sound. The only thing he can hear is soft static, fuzzy, with a high-pitched tinnitus whine that fades in and out. It doesn't take long to identify the source — stacked in the center of the room are a dozen analog televisions that look a lot like the kind his foster homes often had in the late nineties or early two thousands.
He moves closer like it's a compulsion, drawn by curiosity — and by the fact that there's nowhere else to really go. Just endless fog, ominous enough to give off the vibe that you're likely to run into an invisible map barrier like in a video game if you wander out into it.
One or two of the screens are fuzzy with snow — not always the same two; it seems like every few minutes another screen will switch off or on, scenes will swap out, the whole thing flickering and neon like the world's most unsettling cyberpunk Christmas tree. Aside from those, there's an impressive variety of content.
One screen plays a muffled, tinny version of Casablanca, or the old Power Rangers show from the 90s with its audio distorted, or Gilligan's Island — or a handful of other cable TV classics.
A couple of them seem to be a live feed from the security camera in a gas station — largely blank and boring, though if you catch it at the right time one of them will show a painstakingly long scene of Jack, detached and disassociated, slitting open a man's throat with a box cutter.
One shows a child of six or seven (though he's so skinny and small, you'd be forgiven for mistaking him as younger) wandering outside of an apartment complex alone, searching for food.
Once in a while, the screen is white font on a black background, just text that reads things like wake up, or why can't you wake up? or why won't she wake up? Rarely, an even worse variant: it's your fault she'll never wake up.
One particular screen never changes, never wavers, never blinks or fades or shuts down. It's of a hospital room, with a single occupant in a single bed. It might seem like a still picture at first, unless you notice the EKG machine beside it steadily pulsing in a heartbeat rhythm. It's a young woman, Jack's age, wilted through years of lifelessness and vacancy — but still beautiful, her red hair a halo of wild curls around her head.
The rest of them he doesn't recognize — probably because they belong to the Summoned who joins him.
If you show up after Jack's been there for a while, it's also possible to catch him sitting cross-legged on the ground with a Super Nintendo controller in his hand — and a free one open beside him. Look, he's been in here a while, he got bored, it's easier for him to manifest things than it might be for most Summoned. He can't seem to manipulate his way out, but he can at least play some Mario Kart or something to pass the time. )
ⲟⲣⲉⲛ → ⲏⲟꞅⲓⲍⲟⲛ (ⲧⲏⲉ ⲱⲟꞅ𝓵ⲇ)
( The ground beneath his feet is shiny and slick-wet, black enough that some patches of it have gone as reflective as pavement puddles under streetlamps after a rainstorm. It ripples as he walks, but strangely, his footsteps make no sound. His breathing makes no sound. The only thing he can hear is soft static, fuzzy, with a high-pitched tinnitus whine that fades in and out. It doesn't take long to identify the source — stacked in the center of the room are a dozen analog televisions that look a lot like the kind his foster homes often had in the late nineties or early two thousands.
He moves closer like it's a compulsion, drawn by curiosity — and by the fact that there's nowhere else to really go. Just endless fog, ominous enough to give off the vibe that you're likely to run into an invisible map barrier like in a video game if you wander out into it.
One or two of the screens are fuzzy with snow — not always the same two; it seems like every few minutes another screen will switch off or on, scenes will swap out, the whole thing flickering and neon like the world's most unsettling cyberpunk Christmas tree. Aside from those, there's an impressive variety of content.
If you show up after Jack's been there for a while, it's also possible to catch him sitting cross-legged on the ground with a Super Nintendo controller in his hand — and a free one open beside him. Look, he's been in here a while, he got bored, it's easier for him to manifest things than it might be for most Summoned. He can't seem to manipulate his way out, but he can at least play some Mario Kart or something to pass the time. )