HOLOCENE

The 'MIHO' fax mentioned Sub-Level 4. This is it.

It went so well with HOLOCENE.

HOLOCENE would have loved this section. Cryptograms were his thing.

An operant has already been zeroed on this assignment yet you put a strange white powder straight in your mouth. Do you want to die?

So the bomb is triggered by an old pop song.

The bomb would have killed them all. Whoever gave her that gift believed that it was going to kill her. They didn't care.

"Do you remember what the song was?"

The M.I.H.O. report title. Project ESCHATON.

A fraction of the gang reunites! Not all is lost.

Inside the Containment Vessel, the entity protests. You have brought along the Small Controller.

The mould. This was its idea. One final command.

The tarsier. This was its idea. One final command.

"Nothing for it now, CASCADE -- we await the conclusion."

"Of our task, I hope -- for now. Good luck with your assessment, CASCADE."

"Through dimensionality to analysis, CASCADE. What's your inference?"

"Won't be long now, CASCADE. The air frequency is shifting. Alternate timelines erupt before our minds."

Remember what the MIHO fax said: 'GO ALL THE WAY DOWN'.

Remember what the MIHO fax said: 'GO ALL THE WAY DOWN'.

Your turn over the card. Its face shows a dozen moths, some of them have embers on their wings.

<<Thank you, CASCADE.>>

Job status: bötched.

No. You have HOLOCENE.

Tarsier shaped! A little curled-up tarsier!

The drill awaits your hand.

The implements lie where you left them, camouflaged in mundanity.

The tabletop is splattered with the drying blood of your old friend.

There is an ocean of knowledge, but you are closed off to it. Except...

Trepanation was the earliest form of treatment for brain tumours, relieving the buildup of pressure inside the skull.

What?

"Oh, yeah, I forgot you were hard for ESTOC."

You unfold the cipher and remember the instructions extracted from the novel:

Once more, the bomb quivers in anticipation.

The bomb twitches in its casing.

A fax from HOLOCENE. Irrelevant, now that he's on board. Get rid of the evidence.

A fax sent by HOLOCENE. Potentially compromised. Best get rid of it.

M.I.H.O. is aesthetically compromised. Destroy all traces of that awful, awful acronym.

The fax machine lies dormant, awaiting correspondence from half-siblings it will never meet.

This won't be of any use to you now. Best get rid of it.

"Looks like the makings of a weird group though. Shoved-into-locker-tier motherfuckers."

The bomb sure does.

If you had the right recording of 'Superbloc, Baby', you'd be able to detonate this bomb...

H.S. Lastra's blood-obsessed pulp epic awaits you.

"Yes, something for you in the tray."

"And you're certain this is the squad? Once I submit this form we're committed."

"All sleeping soundly here, CASCADE... Any luck with those brakes?"

"As soon as this tram stops, I'm prepared to either play dead or vacate rapidly. Your call, CASCADE."

Surprising, yet inevitable.

- Exceeding bank angle. [increase in engine noise] - Exceeded -- not enough -- - Calm. Calm. - This is it. - Oh please god. Oh no. - I can't see. 16:44:54 END OF TRANSCRIPT

It feels like a thousand eyes are on you as you step back.

No one knows you're down here. Let's dwell on that for a moment.