Narrator

The bomb is where you left it, looking completely innocuous.

"No rack for you! Pay up."

"The aerial creep is still up there, menina. Creeping."

"Wolf time!" The children glance at you before turning back to the television.

"A cipher -- intriguing. Sounds like you're making progress."

The phone rings, repeating its muted tone like a lover in your ear. There is no answer.

Your faint reflection stares back at you from the neighboring building's skylight.

"Alright. Communion with the cricket." Ramses initiates the session with a deft hit of three buttons and a switch.

You approach the children's figurines once again.

"Whatever you did to the hogger, he looks proper sad for once." The old pilot tips his drink to you.

The automat continues its electronic meditation.

Your finger depresses the yielding material.

A bottle sits in wet surrender among the grime. The label, damp but still holding strong, reads 'Wiśnia Schnapps On-Tour'.

You have arrived at Eszti's doorstep.

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

"No flyers, no pamphlets, no gum!"

"You still can't go back there. Please just leave it alone."

The hot tub's wrecked. There are cracks in the fibreglass, old water gone viscous. The filter sounds like a drowning goose.

The trio goes silent at your return.

The door is still bolted shut from the inside.

Metal shudders and groans beneath your feet, reverberating downwards.

"Hnng."

You return to look out over Portofiro.

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

The figure in the other sealed, full-body suit gives you a stiff nod.

You face Shelf G once more.

Rotanev's shrine sits undisturbed under its worn wooden awning.

You blink against the cold air. Mountains ascend slowly outside.

You open the Renotel distribution panel once more. After pressing the ON button, you push the Voskol Auto-Negotiator's cord into the…

Among the many sections of the cabinet you find a small stack of papers. The first page is filled with what looks like a set of printed…

You return to the folded pants.

"I'll be off soon so get whatever you need now."

You return to the wasteland.

You return to The Animal Zone.

Water sloshes quietly against the hull of the boat. The door is closed firm.

A low, tilting shelf marked in heavy block letters: 'DESPISED SUBGENRES'.

The monkey is still hiding in the shadows.

You return to the graffiti wall.

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

The vending machine awaits your selection, yet seems utterly indifferent to it.

The desk is as you left it.

You take out the medical dummy once more.

The metal drawer slides out nearly soundlessly, revealing rows of official-looking folders.

'RE-NO-TEL.' The ringing feels like it's come from another reality entirely.

"Back again, CASCADE? Might want to, you know, get the fuck on with it."

The fax machine hums faintly. A single sheet sits in the tray, edges curled like a beckoning finger.

"Please, if you see Karolina. Do let me know."

"Still waiting, CASCADE. Slab's getting cold."

"Shh."

You return to the residents' list.