Astrolon: переводы

→You call down to her, and she hears you. She's terror-stricken, but audibly relieved.

You keep shouting, guiding her to the ladder. There she is! She grabs the lower rungs, giving you a brief look of gratitude, then she shudders, and her face goes blank with surprise.

She's still there, looking upwards. But from the waist down, there's... nothing. A mess of entrails and blood.

Blinking, you try and recall what you just saw. But you can't. Even though you were looking directly at her when it happened, you're struggling to remember anything moments later. Was what you saw so terrifying that your mind has blanked it out already? Holy shit.

→Help him? Way out there in the open? With your head down a hole? No thanks.

→Engage from afar.

→You're in the parking lot of Gyges Cryo Facility, but everything looks disused and in disrepair. Plants have pushed their way through the pavement and over the facility.

Worst of all, nothing looks familiar. You don't remember this place, or even who you are. Your frustration mounts, but you catch it and put it in check. Might as well take a look around.

→shout threat

→shout friendly

→Temporary structures like these are usually wired to an exposed junction box nearby. If you can locate it, perhaps you could power-cycle the booth?

It wouldn't get you the information you seek. At least, not directly. But you could probably sneak a peek at her logging back in if you had a sharp eye.

You'll still need a way to access the terminal to use that info, though.

→Look for a junction box.

→The teller, a presentable-looking young woman with straight brown hair, looks up from her terminal warmly.

"Hello," she says. "Is there anything with which I can assist you today?"

→Detroit Savings Bank turns out to be a surprisingly tricky business to find.

It has a presence, for certain. Self-service terminals are near-ubiquitous, winking at passers-by from countertops, ad-walls, and alcoves. But there's little more to these terminals than signage, lights, and a screen.

There doesn't even appear to be a place to dispense cash, nor insert a card.

After a bit of walking, though, you eventually find a Detroit Savings Bank microbranch with more than a screen.

→Screw delicacy. Let's get this done.

You step into the booth, and stride toward the teller purposefully. She is visibly surprised at your brazenness, and stammers, "H-hello, sir. Can I help you?"

You march around the desk, and tell her to get lost, staring at her as she scrambles to get away from you.

She steps outside, and hurries away, rummaging through her purse.

→When the login screen appears, the teller rattles off some keystrokes, and it's almost too quick to discern.

However, you think you have it down to a couple possible permutations. It should be few enough to try manually without a lockout.

Now, to get your mitts on that keyboard...

→Watch the teller log in with optical zoom.

→Watch the teller log in.

→You find a position with a good vantage point, and stare at the booth like a psycho for a while.

The booth doesn't garner a lot of foot traffic, which might explain why there are so few of them around town.

As you're waiting, you think she spots you, but you can't be sure. Waiting a bit longer, she starts talking on her mobile, and glances your way, looking down again when she sees you.

It appears you've been made.

As you hurry down the sidewalk, faint sirens can be heard echoing through the canyon of skyscrapers.

→You cross an open field into a ring of huts. Some people watch you closely, while others seem not to notice you.

As you approach, the heat of the Great Fire grows, and Michelle turns to you.

"You'll find food, trading goods, and everything you need here," she indicates.

"Just don't cause any trouble."

→"Uh, sorry," you stammer. "I didn't know. I'll go back."

There's no protest from the figures, who simply watch you turn and go. After several moments, you hazard a look behind you, but they're nowhere to be seen.

But probably not gone.

→There's the sound of fabric, and then the cool air becomes warm, like you're inside.

You're set upon something soft, and your bindings and blindfold are removed.

→"It's out there," she says. "Has to be. I mean, this data was on everyone's computer at one point, right? At least, everyone who contributed to it."

"That's true."

"It can't be wiped out from everywhere," she reasons.

"And if it is?"

"Then you're screwed, Philip."

That brings a smile to your face. "Well, at least we agree on that."

"C'mon," she says, "let's show you around." She starts heading towards the Great Fire.

→"So spirits don't like the internet?"

She chuckles. "Think about it a sec. You had to knock on a fair number of doors to get that info, right? Probably disturbed more than one spirit digging up that data."

"So," you muse sarcastically, "we've narrowed it down to any paranormal occurrence listed on a website trying to list every single one in history?"

She laughs. "Yeah! Now you're getting it!"

You shake your head.