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And as you've established, it's possible that hiding somewhere within it is a secret jail.

Congratulations. You're as complicated as an inanimate object that literally has nothing in it -- it's completely hollow.

Better for everyone that you just take him at his word. The alternative... well, there's a recently vacated room at the bottom of a silo, if you're interested.

He's been out staring at the sky every night since you forcibly inserted that drill into his skull.

The narrow space where anything which is not can safely exist within his mind.

His infallible recall must distort time. With every memory the same weight, they become the unit of measurement -- and down here he's not making many new ones.

It remains unclear what exactly is 'on' in this gutted space pit.

Hold on. Monoaxial... Hermetic... this is literally just him. Your old bandmate's gone and tried his hand at a solo career.

A nonchalant tone disguising obsessive amounts of research.

That explains communicating through cipher... though we may soon be rezoning the boundaries of 'explanation'.

'HOLOCENE' is already a cryptonym...

How did he know you were there?

Paycheque from the literary magazine, followed by several copies of the magazine itself. So somebody paid by them who doesn't care to read the mag...

Enough poetry. Move on.

You cannot erase what does not exist.

Speculative freelancing. Your old asset had no authority to make offers on behalf of the Opera.

... like your unfortunate double, for instance.

You can't betray what you don't know.

Why is he fleeing from La Luz?

Where is that 'subeditor'? When is she going to spring the trap?

Here it is, the side deal. First of several, potentially.

Is this the sound of the trap springing?

The document has to be displayed, by law. Operating an unlicensed clinic inside the city limits is strictly prohibited.

You have no idea what this treatment will do to you. It could cause harm as much as help.

A Pocket Combatant -- a type of miniature army which reached its sales height in the 50s. Recalled, discontinued, sued into bureaucratic oblivion when the figures were found to be made of lead.

The stakes have been established, the playing field set.

What was a lie upon utterance may now be a half-truth.

The last refuge of fading intellect. As it prepares to be snuffed out, it hones in on death as both condition and subject matter.

Did he actually perceive something in you or is he just trying to scare you?

The luggage rack on the lower floor is your safest bet to stow it. The floors are very thin.

What about tuktuks? Moron.

... Hmm. He's right.

Don't forget why you're here. Who- or whatever this MIHO is still awaits you, all the way down...

There's also the matter of who- or whatever this MIHO is, waiting for you all the way down...

Doubtful. They've entrusted you with a hopeless assignment. Why set you up when they can just wait?

You once heard that fear makes meat spoil.

Questions that some would attribute to life's meaning.

It's all in your head. Inanimate objects definitely cannot eat you.

Rationalise your way forward.

You can't quite place the accent, but it's definitely not Luzian.

Are they attached somehow? Might be worth taking a look.

An interesting slip.

Whatever 'explanation' you offer is only going to result in more questions.

The type of enquiry that should be far beneath an operant, especially one with your level of experience.

Pray that the technician knows of an alternative way in.

Pelota balls are not designed for use as door-stops. Someone has elevated this ball to contraption status.

885 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual - Page 14 of 18