The fire door stands between you and the roof. Unfortunately, someone removed the pelota ball that was wedging it open.

The fire door stands between you and the roof. Unfortunately, someone removed the pelota ball that was wedging it open.

Pray that the technician knows of an alternative way in.

"Why did you stop? Is there a problem?"

"It's locked up tight."

"Oh dear, let me consult my notes. There might be another way inside." He flicks through the papers on his clipboard.

"Ah, here we go. Oh no..." A look of horror darkens his face.

"Apparently, there's a maintenance tunnel around the side." He tries to shake off his obvious fear. "One of us will have to brave it and open the door from the other side."

No mystery as to who he wants getting down on their hands and knees.

Head back up to the roof.

You open the door and use the scarce moonlight to climb the stairs once again.

You open the door and climb the spot-lit stairs once again.

You open the door and use the scarce moonlight to climb the stairs once again.

You open the door and climb the spot-lit stairs once again.

Squeeze through the door. (Enter the building.)

You emerge into the rusted insides of a deceased mechanical beast. The only light comes dimly from above a set of steel stairs, which you alight carefully, gripping the cold railing.

You emerge into the rusted insides of a deceased mechanical beast. The only light comes from above a set of steel stairs, which you alight carefully, gripping the cold railing.

You emerge into the rusted insides of a deceased mechanical beast. The only light comes dimly from above a set of steel stairs, which you alight carefully, gripping the cold railing.

You emerge into the rusted insides of a deceased mechanical beast. The only light comes from above a set of steel stairs, which you alight carefully, gripping the cold railing.

"I'm manifesting high levels of 'It'. I'll get us in." (Crawl through the maintenance tunnel.)

The technician is clearly flummoxed by your words, but doesn't dare raise any questions.

"I'll get us in." (Crawl through the maintenance tunnel.)

Crawl through the maintenance tunnel.

Try to crawl through the maintenance tunnel again.

"I've tried and failed to get through the tunnel. Now it's your turn." (Make him go through.)

"Okay, okay. You're right... I should do this. I need to do this."

He takes a moment to gather himself, taking deep breaths, in and out.

After several minutes waiting by the door, you hear a scratching on the other side.

"Hey, is that you?"

"Hello again." He still carries an air of calm. "That was... fine, actually. What a technique, huh? Wish I knew about that years ago."

"We can go in and out as we please now, by the way. I've disabled the locking mechanism with a high-strength magnet."

An advanced technique known only to those with a lifelong passion for it.

"Wait, you did that with magnets?"

"Yes. They may be small but they come in handy every now and then."

"You don't look too good."

"I'd rather not talk about it." He stares down at the floor.

"Think you'll be better at dealing with your fears now?"

"Yes! Do you know -- I'm actually excited about it. Like I've found a way to get my life back. Thank you again."

"So, can I head on up?" (Proceed.)

"Sure, go up whenever you like..." He blinks, once, hard. "I think I've decided to quit my job."

"Really? Why?"

"I've thought about it and I've decided that I'll try to get back into electrical engineering. I don't care if it kills me, I can't live like this any longer."

"You'll want the Auto-Negotiator back, then?"

"Keep it. Renotel's got plenty, and they can make replacements. Consider it a gift from me to you." He gives a farewell salute.

"Thank you for your service."

The ex-technician shows no sign of hearing you, he doesn't even look back.

"The moon's that way." (Point up.)

"Hope you're able to find yourself one day."

"Nice knowing you."

"Didn't you say you had bills chasing you?"

"Good for you."

"I can feel the collective sigh of every worker on the back of my neck."

"Hello again." He looks aged, all the colour drained out of him. "We can go in and out as we please now. I've disabled the locking mechanism with a high-strength magnet."

Wait to see what happens.

FORCE THE RECUSANT TO DO HIS DUTY.

ALL COMRADES ARE EXPECTED TO PULL EQUAL WEIGHT. IF YOU SIGN UP FOR A JOB YOU MUST DO IT -- AND DO IT WELL.

"You must uphold the responsibility written in your contract."

"Hmm..." He rubs the back of his neck, grimacing. "It's just, well..."

"Well what? This is your purpose, your role. Without it, we all crumble."

"I don't care much for this job and I'm dreadful at it. You could easily outdo me by completing this one simple task."

"You signed up for this. Pull your weight."

"I would, but I have no motivation... no passion driving me toward the jaws of danger. You, on the other hand, seem to have death-drive to spare."

UNACCEPTABLE! HE SHOULD BE INSPIRED BY YOUR PRESENCE AND BE SCRAMBLING TO KEEP UP.

"Follow my example. Prove yourself in the eyes of The People."

"Look, you asked what my worst fear is, it's tunnels. Enclosed spaces. That's why I had to get away from the lunar mines."

A drop of sweat rims his eye, which stares at you, serious and true.

Fear smell. Unfakeable.

FORCE THE COWARD INTO THAT TUNNEL OR HE'LL NEVER GET OVER HIS FEAR.

Our man needs to suck it up and learn to dissociate like us. Teach him, sis.

"Calm down, I'll show you how to get through this."

"Wh-what do you mean? I don't want to get through this... how?"

"First of all, breathe."

"Okay, okay..." he whimpers.

It takes him a minute or so, but after some deep breaths, the technician has sufficiently calmed himself.

"Detach from your surroundings. Retreat inwards."

"Uh-huh. Yes, yes... I feel like I am numbing to the world. I am not here," he tells himself.

"Good. Now, imagine yourself somewhere else."

Minutes pass as you guide the technician, watching him sink into himself, daydreaming inwardly -- calm, unpresent, soothed.

SUDDENLY HE HAS FOUND THE STRENGTH TO DO THE IMPOSSIBLE. ADMIRE THE POWER OF COLLECTIVE LEADERSHIP.

"Shrink yourself down. You are inside the body of a doll."

"Get in there before I push you in myself." (Step up to him.)

"Okay, okay. You're right... I should do this. I need to do this. Thank you, for giving me a push."

He takes a moment to gather himself, taking deep breaths, in and out.

He blows as hard as he can against the world, but it blows back a thousand times harder.

During operant training, you were taught to swallow your fear through dissociation...

"Look, I'm terrified of tunnels. Enclosed spaces. That's why I had to get away from the lunar mines."

"What's really going on here?"

"Enough excuses. You will be punished for your parasitism."

"Fair point. You may screw this up for us both. I'll do it." (Give in.)

"Thank you. I couldn't stand the thought of being in there..."

"Come on, crawl through that tunnel -- do it for me, your fellow worker."

EVEN AMONG THE WORKER NATION THERE IS A NEED FOR LEADERS. PROVE TO HIM THAT YOU MEET THE CRITERIA THROUGH DOMINATION.

"Do what I say and get in that tunnel."

"Wh-what? I... I..."

HE CAN'T FORM WHOLE WORDS. HOW WILL HE POSSIBLY LEAD THE PEOPLE IF HE CAN'T EVEN COMMUNICATE?

"Stop tripping over your words and start tripping over your shoes. Go on -- get down and get in."

"No, please." He starts snivelling. "Please, please don't make me go in there... I can't!"

FAILURE TO COMPLY MEANS FORCED DEPORTATION -- THIS CAN BE DEALT WITH LATER. VALUABLE LABOUR HOURS ARE BEING WASTED.

"You need 'It' to go through that tunnel. I'm afraid the diagnosis is in, you don't have 'It'.

"Does... does that mean you will do it?" He wipes his nose.

"I see that you leave me no choice."

"You have my deepest thanks." He breathes a sigh of relief. "I owe you, truly. I really cannot face going into that tunnel."

Might be a good idea to put the flashlight in your hand before crawling head-first into the dark.

"I will report you to Reno, your boss. He can deal with you."

"You really need to stop being so pathetic."

"Hear how I talk? That's leaderspeak. Obey me."

(Step up to him.) "You expect me to get on my knees before you? Do you know who I am?"

"Uh... no, not really. But you have been very helpful so far, which I appreciate." He gives you a smile with hope still in it.

GREATNESS OF NATION IS NOT BUILT THROUGH GENEROSITY. IT IS BUILT THROUGH THE SACRIFICE OF WORKERS AND THEIR BODIES.

"Prove your appreciation by getting into that tunnel."

"This is not a negotiation. This is forced labour. Get in there."

Wave at the pylon engineer.

You raise your hand to wave at the engineer on his pylon. He waves back.

Who did this?

Nobody is paying any particular attention to the door, or seems close enough to care.

Suspiciously nonchalant...

They're just going about their days.

What's the ball's deal?

It's a pelota ball, the local variation of handball.

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

THIS BALL IS AN ACT OF RESISTANCE AGAINST THE BOSSES AND THEIR 'FIRE CODES'. ARE YOU ON THE SIDE OF THE BALL, OR THE BOSS?

Maybe it's a bad ball, a factory error.

It's just a ball in a door.

It's a shortcut. But whose?

The ball is a mere pawn in something much larger.

This ball is all about results.

The ball is a mere object, it cares neither for purpose nor shape.

Give the ball a thumbs up.

The pelota ball is unable to outwardly express itself, but it appreciates the recognition of its efforts on the inside.

It also appreciates a show of support from a fellow mascot of the good sport.

It also appreciates the support from a fellow pelota player in full uniform.

It also appreciates the support from a fellow pelota player in some of the uniform.

Look where the door leads.

You know where it leads. Up to the roof, where the Renotel artery is located.

According to the technician, it leads to the roof, where the Renotel artery is located.

A dark hallway. At the opposite end, you can just make out the bottom of a metal staircase.

A fine place to hide in a moment of crisis. Marked and remembered.

No... it's a trap... must be destroyed...

Take the ball, close the door.

You bend down to pick up the ball, but are interrupted.

"What are you doing? Leave it. We need to head on through."

"Excuse me, don't take that ball. I need this door left open."

You pocket the ball and close the fire door firmly.

Leave it alone.

The tableau stays undisturbed.

Nothing to do here. [Leave.]

The door sits flush inside its frame.

Turn away. [Leave.]

The door sits inconspicuously inside its frame.

"The door was wedged open before, but some idiot closed it."

The fire door stands between you and the roof. Luckily, it's still wedged open with the pelota ball.

A fire door stands between you and the artery on the roof. Luckily, it has been wedged open with a pelota ball.

The fire door is closed, but no longer blocks entry.

The fire door is still tightly closed.

The fire exit remains ajar, ball wedged into the crack.

The fire exit stands conspicuously ajar. Someone has wedged it open with a ball.

Wrong. Ball want play, not wedge.