You return to the boiler.

You return to the boiler.

Pull the lever.

Alternative wording

Pull the lever again.

Nothing happens.

"Crushed in a boiler... a first for the scene..."

Alternative wording

"Every time you pull that lever... you're making the scene stronger."

Alternative wording

"Did my father send you? Tell him this is never gonna work... the scene is too strong to fall to such provocations of violence."

Alternative wording

"My suffering only elevates the scene... of historical communism... don't forget."

Alternative wording

"Scene critics want me to think about the lever... I won't..."

Alternative wording

"Hng..."

"Have you heard a song in here?"

"Two newcomers asked me that as well... but you're not gonna find me spilling secrets of the scene to rookies. That's anti-baller. I'm more of a 'if you know you know' type of guy when it comes to historical communism."

"But since you helped me out with the money thing, I'll tell you what I didn't tell them -- it's coming from a box in a cubby hole in the office upstairs. D6."

The package with Carmuna's ghost was giftwrapped.

The package with the ghostly young woman was giftwrapped.

"Any ghosts in there? Loads out here."

"Yeah. A spectre is haunting this building... the spectre of ballers past. You may not think it but in this tight space I truly feel like a part of the scene like I never did outside on the streets."

BALLERS AND SHOT CALLERS.

"There are also some really cool bits of re-bar and concrete around. Can't really see them but like, I can feel them, you know."

"I can't see you."

"I can't see anything as well but my investigations into this scene have led me to believe that this is the point of historical communism, you know, that you can't really see it but you can imagine it working."

"Talk me through the whys of you being in a boiler."

"As you know... I balled too hard. Problems of the future became the problems of today and led me to seek refuge in this Palace of Culture... where I can learn from the scene of History."

"Once, there were many ballers on the scene, but now... there is only me. I fear extinction, like the ancient megaloballers who once ruled the land."

WE WILL BALL AGAIN. WE HAVE BALLED ALL ALONG.

The ancient huntress raises her hand to the troupe behind her, stop. She felt the soil move, bouncing with the force of a megaloballer's gait. A meat they dare not hunt.

"Especially now -- my jacket is stuck and I cannot move without tearing it apart. And I find myself feeling torn as well... do I have to choose between the scene of the history... or the scene of today? But what is today? Will I haunt the palace of culture?"

HIS LIBERAL OBSESSION WITH IDENTITY HAS STALLED HIS PROGRESS. YOU MUST HELP HIM SEVER TIES WITH THIS MALODOROUS GARMENT.

He will starve to death or get crushed by the building if he does not tear his jacket.

"Suffering increases levels of internal communism, you should thank me."

"This scene is not big enough for such levels of suffering... we could fit here a jacket and a pair of shoes, tops..."

"Odd that the rats aren't biting you. They were mean to me."

"Because I'm hip with the scene. Besides, these aren't just rats... they're descendants of the rats that lived here during historical communism. Along with me, they are carrying the torch of the scene. They are extremely in."

"What kind of cool ideas have you learned about in here?"

Alternative wording

"I'd like to hear more cool ideas."

"I've none to share with you. We don't have that type of bond."

"All kinds! I'm telling you; these commies were onto something."

Alternative wording

"Sure, sure. The scene of historical communism is flowing with ideas."

"Tell me what the ballers of History thought about the economy."

"Without money we'd all be rich, and growing potatoes is like... really important. It's the official vegetable of the scene."

IF THE 'SCENE' IS FIELD LABOUR, AS IT SHOULD BE, THEN YES.

"What's the party line on transportation?"

"Everyone should carpool or like, use trains and things like that."

"I imagine there's a strong position on public health."

"Oh yeah yeah yeah. Definitely. It's to be encouraged, you know, the scene of public health is for everyone."

"Thanks for the knowledge." (Back.)

"Yeah."

LIBERATE HIM FROM THE SHACKLES OF JACKETHOOD.

PARTY REPRESENTATIVES MUST CONNECT WITH THE PEOPLE IN THE PEOPLE'S OWN TERMS -- USE THEIR WORDS, MEET THEM WHERE THEY ARE.

"The true baller wouldn't need a jacket to be part of the scene."

Silence flows from the boiler while he processes the shock.

"The scene is radical, fresh. Rip the jacket, make something new."

"You're right..."

You hear the sound of fabric tearing.

"Wow... I do feel different. I feel my pulse in the scene like I've never felt before. I feel like I am one with the scene... and able to see how deep it really goes."

Alternative wording

"Thank you, communist rats! I now feel my pulse in the scene like I've never felt before. I feel like I am one with the scene... and able to see how deep it really goes."

YES, FINALLY FREE TO VENTURE DEEPER INTO THE DILAPIDATED RUINS OF COMMUNISM!

You've doomed him to getting crushed by this building.

"Kurt, you need to leave this building. It's going to collapse."

"A true baller goes down with the scene."

"And from the ashes, a stronger scene rises up."

CARVE IT INTO MARTYR'S SQUARE.

"Thank you, rats!"

They squeak in merry response.

"Bye, Kurt. Good luck."

"Don't forget to ball for me out there!"

Leave the boiler.

You climb back out into the basement, leaving Kurt on his adventure deeper into the building.

"The jacket is holding back your revolutionary consciousness!"

"I needed to hear this cruel but true truth..."

THIS YOUTH IS TOO CORRUPTED FOR MERE WORDS, GET IN THERE AND WRENCH HIM FROM THE CLAWS OF LIBERALISM -- USING THE CLAWS OF COMMUNISM.

Get into the boiler.

You squeeze yourself into the darkness of the boiler beside him. His jacket crinkles in protest.

"Scene's getting crowded..."

Bad idea, climb back out.

You shuffle backwards awkwardly out of the boiler, knocking your head against its upper lip as you do.

"That wasn't very baller of you. Not very cool at all. Lost a lot of respect for the communism there. Don't want to know what you have to say about it."

THE YOUTH CANNOT BE EXPECTED TO RESPECT ONE WHO WITHDRAWS.

Rip the jacket.

You hear a rip, then feel your own arm slipping into it. You're stuck, too.

You're going to die slowly in a basement. Is this what you had in mind for your finale?

"It's okay, we can ball out by discussing communism until we starve to death."

As you begin to accept death, you hear an approaching squeak. It is friendly in tone.

Rats?

You feel them nibbling away at the jacket, freeing you both.

"Help us, rodent comrades!"

And that is what you do. No end is more befitting two comrades, squashed together in a tight space, left to imagine the prosperity that their sacrifice would bring the commune.

"See you." [Leave.]

"Don't forget where the real scene is."

Thwunk, and a sound of pain.

"OUCH!" and a rustle.

Metal's chatting! Fuck!

Yes! Yesss!

"You probably won't forgive me, nobody ever does."

"No need to apologise, a great scene teaches one to expect the unexpected... and this here is definitely the scene to be." You hear something shifting in the boiler.

Squatters out, jacket guy in. Everyone's coming to die in this deathtrap of a building.

"Wait -- it's me, Kurt! What brings you here, onto the scene of history?"

"Evicting some squatters."

"Cleansing the scene. Very cool. Quite popular in historical communism, as I understand, like a rite of passage or so."

"Trying to connect with the building. Not going great."

"As with any scene, the angle of arrival is very important -- first impressions are everything. I might have arrived a bit too hard though, you know, as I'm now stuck in here, but still it's very cool, I can assure you."

"Investigating a mystery. Visions from the past, disembodied words."

"Yeah. Historical communism is a mystery to the contemporary trend-oriented mind... but not to me, you know. I'm very forward thinking when it comes to history, you know, have a little vision of it myself."

"Roamin'."

"Cool, cool. Yeah. Sounds good."

Oh, jacket guy's in the deathtrap too. Everyone's coming to die.

"Reveal yourself, shapeshifter!"

"I would but I'm stuck in here." You hear something moving in the boiler.

"Have another one." (Kick it, whatever it is.)

A sharp pain as your foot crumples against the metal.

Alternative wording

A sharp pain as your bare foot crumples against the metal.

"OUCH! Did someone send out the anti-baller task force? Not very scene." You hear something shifting in the boiler.

"Was it the boiler that said 'ow', or was it me?"

"Neither nor."

The lever is rough, stiff with age. You put your weight onto it until it drops with a thwunk.

The lever is rough, stiff with age. You put your weight onto it until it drops with a thwunk.

Nothing happens.

Aw, boring.

Thank goodness.

Touch the boiler.

Still cold. Still hard.

Stirring just a little at your touch.

Cold. Hard.

Rising and contracting gently with the long breaths of sleep.

Leave.

You turn from the red glow.

Kurt does not speak as you approach the boiler.

Dead.

He's not dead. Maybe asleep. Or wriggled elsewhere.

"Kurt?"

No response.

Dead.

REVOLUTIONARIES NEVER DIE.

Distantly, as if echoed through many floors of concrete, you hear him.

"Ball for me out there!"

"Kurt!"

"Hey."

Its mouth gapes wide in the red glow of its console's fading life. A horizontal lever to the far right draws your attention, alluringly erect.

Rancid. Pull that lever.

Do not pull that lever.