Sensors

Metal shudders and groans beneath your feet, reverberating downwards.

"Hnng."

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…

There they are! The carabinero and his controller, like Ignatz said.

You return to the folded pants.

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

You return to the wasteland.

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."

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

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

"Shh."

"Hello again."

You approach your double. A faint line of drool darkens the sheet.

"Loneliest... of towns..."

"I already told you, miss. You can't come through here. Try the other entrance." He waves you off.

The container is still overfull with rubbish.

You return to the collapsing pneumatic system.

"I told you this place is off-limits. It's been targeted by a gang." He shakes his head.

With the carabinero uniform on, you remember Vespar in his -- cape roiling like smoke under dim lights, boots scuffing cobblestones. He…

He ignores you, transfixed by the woman above.

There's nothing to do here.

You return to one of the city's ancient benches. It welcomes you.

"Hello, hero."

An assortment of cargo crates sits in waiting, adorned with faint chalk marks and bright yellow labels.

You return to the desk. Everything is right where you left it, including the pack of Suprema 100s.

The vandalised jukebox is where you left it, looking slightly more dispirited on second visit.

"You're back." She eyes you warily.

You return to the boiler.

He stares straight ahead, trying to ignore PSEUDOPOD. He looks extremely uncomfortable.

The girl is far too preoccupied fiddling with her fishing wire to pay any attention to you.

The man's eyes are closed. He is completely still.

You return to the staircase.

"I really think you'd dig this. You look like the type."

"Back again, Hershel."