C-OSO-007
Barista: Nick Langley
Date: Feb-3-2020
Receipt: C-OSO-007
Subject: Otherworld
It’s lunchtime.
Or close enough so our bodies won't mutiny. No sun overhead, no clock that means anything here, just a vague sense that everyone looks a little too pale and cranky so it must be time to eat something. Our CaDComs are saying it’s closer to 4 P.M. but we really haven’t eaten much since we arrived here.
We’ve stopped on a hill, slightly lumpier than the last three. Probably not walking in circles, but I couldn’t swear to it. All of these hills blur together out here: moss, mist, and nowhere to mark the way. There really isn’t much out here, at least not between ██████████████████████████ and hopefully ███████████. Just green hill after green hill.
Thankfully the ████████████████████████ sickness has mostly passed for everyone. Even Eoin. …But that’s when it gets dangerous. ████████████████████████ isn’t just some fun little ███████ flu. It’s structural. It’s mechanical. You ████ a ██████ body across ██████, especially one like the ██████████, and the consequences don’t just burn off in a sweat or spill out in a puddle or two of vomit. You ever hear about the bends? You come up too fast, your blood boils. Your bones buckle. Your brain stops knowing where it is. Same thing here, just swap “ocean” for “████████.”
We’re adapting, sure. But that means we’re syncing to wherever and whatever this place is. And if we don’t take our time going back, we might end up like the ████████████. Perfectly dressed, impossible to ID, lungs full of nowhere, and a ███████████████████████████████████████████████████████. Not even his █████ issued ███████████ could save him from coming up too fast.
Decaffeinate Receipt
"Shud've packed more—alongside a rail ticket, bus ticket, comb, cigarettes, and matches."
Research | 2 Words