There's nothing to do here anymore.

There's nothing to do here anymore.

You return to the console.

Push some buttons.

The screen flashes with complaint, nothing else happens.

Knock on the screen.

You produce a muffled rapping noise and a slight pain in your knuckles.

It's not a door, you pathetic ape.

Look for 'INTERFACE'.

You scan the machine until you see the button -- right in the centre of the console.

Why didn't I spot this straight away?

It's worn in the middle, letters fading to black. The other keys still look new.

Septimus presses it a lot.

Press the button.

> SUBJECT > SYSTEM

Press SUBJECT.

The panel directly beside the input lights up, a green like glowing moss. Words appear, letter by letter...

H-E-Y- -S- W-H-A-T-S -U-P-

She thinks that you're her boyfriend.

Type 'YES, IT'S S. COME OUT. EMERGENCY.'

The screen flashes. A long pause.

Karolina begins to stir in her reclining chair.

Type 'IT'S HERSHEL'

Press SYSTEM.

The machine's thoughts unfold on screen, a meandering mess of lines and shapes. It writhes.

There it is, this is what's making the whole thing work. Not this woo woo sigil shit.

Don't look at it. Evil. Talk to K.

Look for a way to communicate with her.

The function keys are all incomprehensible.

You spot one legible button right in the centre of the console. It says 'INTERFACE'.

Her boyfriend must know how it works.

Break into Karolina's mind.

You've used it before, same button, right in the centre of the console. INTERFACE. You press it.

Warm.

> KAROLINA > SYSTEM

Press SYSTEM.

A map of the machine's spiraling brain unfolds itself onto the screen at the back of the room. Lines intersect, breed, bifurcate, return to their pulsating orbit.

Stunning. Try turning the dial, see what happens.

And not a hint of any ritual script or sigils. They give her the creativity to think in this space, but she's the one making it work.

What do the lines on the screen represent?

Intentions. Both Karolina's and the machine's -- sublimely indistinguishable on the electrical plane.

Turn the dial counterclockwise.

The dial's perimeter is ridged, hard. It moves in degrees as you rotate it to the right.

The lines on the screen grow smaller as the map expands, showing you more and more of the machine's thoughts as you widen the scope.

A bird's eye view of an impossible landscape.

Can I see anything useful?

You notice an anomaly at an outer edge of the pulsing spiral. A glowing shape. Lines will move around it but never through.

Evil! Stay away!

The nightmare? The memory? Get closer, turn the dial the other way.

Turn the dial clockwise.

You turn the dial again, narrowing its lens to focus on the anomaly.

As the object grows larger you can make out the shape of a cosmonaut, rotating gently along with the machine's flowing rhythm. It is ringed with a sparkling white circle.

Got it.

It's beautiful.

The circle is a fault. It is unlike anything else on the screen, an intruder from another reality -- yours.

The salt circle on the modified dream recording equipment. Destroy it.

How do I get inside?

That circle isn't like anything else on the screen. It's a fault, an intruder from another reality -- yours.

At this proximity the lines are even more nonsensical, a mush of shape and light.

You need to widen the scope, take everything in so that you parse the broader pattern.

The cylinder clicks softly between your fingers as you turn it clockwise. Onscreen, the lines grow larger as the lens' focus narrows, magnifying a small section of the noise.

Push a button.

On the screen, a green line appears and shapes itself obediently into a cube. Dissolves.

To your right, a processor begins to consume disc ribbon.

A bootlegging related instruction. No harm but no use.

Blow away the salt circle.

You pucker your lips and blow, short and hard.

The equipment makes a high whining noise as thousands of little particles infiltrate its tender insides.

In the chair, Karolina goes still. Her chest rises and falls with the deep breath of sleep.

I hope she's alright...

She's just exhausted, forget it. Put on the headset, get into the machine with her!

That was fast.

There's a worn button in the centre of the console in front of you. INTERFACE. You press it.

You still don't know where to start.

You're a disaster. Are you even looking at this thing?

It's massive, weird, and made up.

It's less 'made up' than you. It's better than you.

Where am I supposed to begin?

You don't know. Which is your failing -- not the machine's.

Leave.

You back away from the console.

The screen glows behind a pane of bulging glass, patiently awaiting instructions.

Different to the rest of the screens, calmer yet with more potential.

The machine is a cyclops. Its other monitors are ancillary, this one watches.