Doppelgäng

You unfold the cipher and remember the instructions extracted from the novel:

The desk is as you left it.

The metal drawer slides out nearly soundlessly, revealing rows of official-looking folders.

The fax machine hums faintly. A single sheet sits in the tray, edges curled like a beckoning finger.

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

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

"Shh."

"Hello again."

The hoglets are still grunting merrily among the urban detritus.

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.

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

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.

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

You return to the boiler.

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

You take out the bomb again.

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."

H.S. Lastra's blood-obsessed pulp epic awaits you.

He turns his head toward you in slow-motion and barely.

"You've come back."

"Operant. Something big is happening, isn't it?"

The magic box hums its secret tune. In a dark Novessa sub-basement, your controller answers.

The sleek metal callbox stands guard.

The cleaning tuk-tuk with its soap bubbles and secrets seems almost prestigious now.

The building noticeboard stands beside a communal area, full of ads and scraps of daily lives.

It all happens in milliseconds. A sharp blow to your elbow, the flashlight flying out of your grasp...

"Thanks again for clearing out the squatters. I won't forget that." He nods, then looks away.

A typed page lies upside-down in a stack of similarly formatted files. The cover reads: 'Remote Viewing Testimonial N.28'.

Ultra Violeta remains frozen mid-song, trapped within the shimmering projection. Her music plays somewhere behind you.

"As I suspected, my sources were very pleased with your work. Well done, Hershel. It's an honour to work with you again."

"Fuck off, Tigerpussy."

The glimmering purple keyboard is just as you left it.

"Yyyes?" Again the heavy, authoritative Azzurri voice comes through.

"Wow... an actual liquidity mage..."

"I'm good, Hersh... I'll live."

"Goodbye."

"Here again."

You have already engaged in model train repair and improvised weapon manufacture here. There is nothing else to do at the workbench.