17:50 - HARRIET GRAY - THE ENGINE ROOM

[◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊]

Dr. Jar

You can barely get the big vault door open, and it opens with a horrific shriek. You don't remember it sounding like this for the others... It takes all your effort to get inside, and of course it slams shut behind you with a wet suction. You are in a corridor that leads into darkness. You'll have to take three steps down into ankle deep water to continue forward. It didn't seem like it would be this far, based on what people said. You don't see any flashlights ahead of you, and the echoes of the people upstairs have stopped. Now there is just an odd metallic hum, like a giant coin spinning endlessly.

[Dr. Jar]

Harriet-

"Why does it have to be so damn creepy in here?"

I take the flashlight out and look around to make sure I won't fall.

I'm glad I have practical waterproof shoes on but they aren't exactly made for wading and I walk slowly to avoid getting water in my shoes.

This is just plain gross. Where are the others now?

"Hello?"

[◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊]

You'd heard they were limiting how many people could go down because the space was so small. There should be at least four people standing around down here, yet there is only that weird hum, maybe these doors were just really good at blocking sound. At least it was reasonably warm down here. The water that sloshed around your ankles was cool, but not completely bone-chilling. There was something familiar about it too, when you shone your flashlight over it... little black particles floating on the surface. It smelled just like that rank fluid from the bathtub.

The corridor came to a T-stop-- okay, you weren't given any instructions on where to go beyond 'go through the door,' but here you were. You could go right or left. To the left there was a subtle warmth, and to the right, there was a cold breeze. Either one led to total darkness as far as your flashlight could reach.

[Dr. Jar]

I decide to go right and open that door.

The smell of the water is... concerning disgusting, and I wonder if the smell and appearance is just my imagination down here.

But maybe there was a connection. A location. Something tying the two together.

I use a bag to collect a small sample of the water. Maybe it was some kind of a toxicity event that drew all of this together. Mass hallucinations. Fungal spores. These sorts of matters.

I push my way through and swallow hard. There was nothing here or anywhere else with me.

[◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊]

((Nice job w/ the CSI skillz!))

There was definitely some odd particulate in this water. Oil floated on top, but these black flakes were something charred, you guessed.

You passed down the right corridor, that cold breeze leading you forward. Fresh air, even. Maybe you hadn't noticed how acrid and stuffy it had been down here until you breathed it in. At the end of the hall, you found a wooden door. A plain, wooden door like one would find in a suburban home. Fake-gold knob and everything. How was it not completely rotted in this wet place? The cool breeze came from beneath it.

[Dr. Jar]

Harriet-

I look at the door. I don't know how this worked without rotting but maybe it had been specially treated. Anyways, the fresh air sounded inviting, and I open the door in front of me.


"Hey guys? Where are you?"

I look about for anything out of the ordinary behind the door opened before me.

[◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊]

Soft light filled the hall when you opened the door. It opened onto a suburban street, the road cracked and worn, the sidewalk buckling. Streetlamps glowed orange overhead, and a few rundown cars were parked here and there. The sky was a foggy black, but the air was cool and clear as it ever gets in Detroit.

This is your childhood neighborhood. Impossible in many ways, but especially because that road doesn't even exist anymore, long ago converted into a bigger parking lot for the nearby factory. The corridor which you stand in hasn't changed, in fact, some of the sludgy water spills out onto the pavement on the other side of the door.

[Dr. Jar]

Harriet-

Alright, I was definitely hallucinating now. There was no way a ship would open up into a neighborhood. I search around a little more, but don't walk too far. I don't want to be lost in this fungal spore nightmare.

"Hey, fellas! Where are you?"

[◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊]

Man, the neighborhood really looked different back then. Wasn't like these were mansions, but people had their own places and knew the people around them. Now everyone was just packed together in crowded tenements. It was after dark, but your neighbor across the street was sitting on his porch, having a beer and listening to a ratty old boombox. You heard the sounds of the neighbor's TV, blaring commercials. Everything was just like how you remembered it. When you called out, you heard someone reply--

"I'm in the kitchen, baby!
Come inside, you're letting out the heat."

Your mother. If you turned around, you might see the rest of your old house, or you might just see the dank corridor you came from. Depends on what you wanted... You heard the sounds of cooking, spoons on metal, the oven fan roaring. Smelled like she was cooking potato soup.

[Dr. Jar]

I look behind me and see the inside of my old house. Clearer than my memories. Bringing itself to light around me. This made no sense, but I suppose, I wondered about this place. Would I lose myself if I followed it?

I approached the house, moving through it like a shadow. Like a warm memory. An ideal that was lost to me. Mother had only been a good parent a few times, but they were bright spots in my mind. I barely knew her as I grew. But when she had cooked, I could not be happier.

She abandoned me

The thought was intrusive, but I could not help but fight sudden tears that wanted to spill out. It must be a hallucination. There was no way this was real. Especially with all of this emotional baggage.

"...I'm coming..."

[◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊]

(( luv it ))

It was so weird the way you could recall the layout of a house you hadn't been in for ages. You deftly navigated the clutter by the doorway, and didn't knock over the sweaty glass of water someone left on a side table. No one was in the living room, but the TV was on, and something about how the old sofa looked seemed like it was probably still warm from whoever had been sitting there. The air was steamy, and the scent of onions was strong but not overwhelming.

Mother-
"Did you hear about that crazy white boy out by Aunt Michelle's house?"

She would be just behind that wall, but did you really want to see her? You heard her shift around, open a cupboard and take something out. You could even picture what the inside of those cupboards looked like.

[Dr. Jar]

((Thank you))


Harriet-

"...I didn't heard anything. What happened?"

I forced myself to answer her, I'm sure my voice sounded strained. Even if she wasn't real, I wanted to see her. In the back of my mind, I thought

there's no way that it's her. It's what I want. It's what I always wanted her to be.

But I couldn't help myself. I walked around the side of the wall to see her.

What could I say? She had never been much of a mother, and the idea of meeting her again filled me with implacable dread, and yet. And yet here I was, my disobedient legs leading me forward as tears welled up in my eyes. No, spilled out and down my cheeks. Even more shameful. This was all a lie and I knew it, but it was a good lie.

[◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊]

She didn't turn around to see you, just working away as you'd imagined.

The countertops were a mess; slimy potato skins all over, and the sink full

of dishes, but it seemed worth all the work when she made a Sunday dinner.

Mother-
"He chopped up a whole family of white folks, a little black girl too.
We can't ever get away from them even when they're just killing
each other.

I know you do your best, trying to get all those sick people where
they belong, but don't ever go feeling sympathetic for those killers,
no matter how much they cry."

There was a very strange sense of this reality; like a dream you're having

just before you wake up. Where you start to know it really is a dream but

are holding on for a little longer. Maybe the dream could bend to your will,

if you wanted to. Maybe you could play along with it, and let it fritter away

to nothing.

[Dr. Jar]

Harriet-

She was talking about Mills. At least, in a round-about, dream way. I had felt sympathetic for him, it was true. He almost seemed childish, and I let my pity get the better of me. It didn't take back what he did. Nothing. He had performed acts so horrific, it defied my imagination.

She knew the past and future, somehow.

Because nothing is real here. She isn't real. This situation isn't real. It's probably all fungal spore hallucinations.

I hold onto the dream. I want to spend this moment with my mother, even if it's just a fantasy.

"No one should. Everyone tries to find the good in them, but honestly, why should they? We should look for the good in each other instead."

[◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊]

Mother-
"That's right, baby. Nobody remembers the victim's names but
their families. Somebody like that can just take everything away
in an instant and nothing anyone can do to fix it. Like if I burn
this soup, nothing I can add to it to make it better. Just throw it
down the drain and stop me from cooking again, ha ha!"

She laughed that all-too familiar smoker's cackle.

"So honey, I know you're a good girl. I don't need to tell you the
 right things to do, sure you know much better than me. So if you
 see that bad kid, I want you to mark him so they can catch his
dumb ass."

Without looking, she gestured to the open pantry. On the floor were a few cans

of metallic gold spraypaint-- probably left there by one of your cousins in his

tagging phase.