config.style.backdrop: "#F7DDB6" config.style.page.font: "Futura/Helvetica/Arial/Calibri/sans-serif 18" config.style.page.color: "#000000 on #FAF9F6" config.style.page.link.font: "bold" config.style.page.link.color: "#5AC4B2" config.style.page.style.border: "none" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#643645" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#EF767A" config.style.page.header.font: "16" config.style.page.header.link.font: "small caps" config.style.page.footer.font: "16" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "small caps" -- <center>{embed image: 'diner.jpg', alt: 'diner'}</center> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <center>a diner for the end of the world</center> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <center>[[Start]] </br>[[Playlist]] </center> <center>{embed image: 'kitchen1.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a kitchen'}</center> You survey the remaining stores in the locker and the refrigerator. [after 1 second] Taking stock of the dry goods – sacks of rice, flour, pasta. A cupboard for jars and tins of pickled lettuce, herring, mackerel, tuna, olives, tomatoes, artichokes, chutneys of all kinds and flavours. [after 3 second] A small store of fresh food, mostly vegetables and fruits. Game and meats in the freezer. A leg of preserved ham dangling from the ceiling, salvaged from a butcher’s right before the [[end of the world]]. <center>{embed image: 'kitchen1.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a kitchen'}</center> Breakfast specials? You ask Chef. [after 1 second] He’s squatting down on the floor, peeling a pile of shallots and letting their skins fall in one tub while deftly throwing the purplish deskinned bulbs in another. Squinting, he looks up at you. [After 3 seconds] Ricotta lemon pancakes. Then maybe put “breakfast casserole” on there. Don’t say what kind of breakfast casserole it is, I’m just going to toss in anything that looks like it’s going bad, he replies. [After 5 seconds] You reach up to the chalkboard and scrape yesterday’s specials off the board with your hand, then try to write the new ones on as [[neatly]] as possible with a nub of too-short chalk. <center>{embed image: 'kitchen1.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a kitchen'}</center> Late night? You call out to Chef as you refill and arrange ketchup, mayo, and mustard bottles onto the tables. [after 1 second] This is your favourite time of day. The calm quiet, the metal tables glinting back at you, the sunrise visible across the train tracks directly outside, creeping up the horizon. Before the patrons come in, or the noise of the fryer begins. The murmur of conversations, laughter, the clatter of cutlery. [after 3 seconds] Poker night with the guys, Chef calls back. I cleaned ‘em [[out]]. <center>{embed image: 'kitchen1.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a kitchen'}</center> Again? You say. You’re going to age like shit if you don’t get your beauty sleep. What are you running on, like three, four hours? [after 1 second] You can hear Chef’s eyeroll from across the room. [after 3 seconds] That’s impossible, he calls back. You’re ugly enough for both of us, so at least I’ll always have something to aspire to. [after 5 seconds] You’re talking pretty big for someone who has the exact same face as me, you shoot back. [after 7 seconds] Chef’s head pokes up through the servery window, and he gives you a [[middle finger]]. <center>{embed image: 'kitchen1.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a kitchen'}</center> Unfortunately, that’s the exact time that Waiter decides to show up to work, and upon seeing the offered finger, his face twists into disgust, and you get to see exactly what that emotion looks like on your face. [after 1 second] What the hell are you accusing me of now? He says, affronted. [after 3 seconds] You exchange a glance with Chef, and burst into laughter, the sound and the look on your faces an identical [[mirror]]. <center>{embed image: 'trainstation1.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a train station'}</center> Your diner is located at the edge of a train station, one of many stops on a giant, sprawling railway network. The only strange part is that each stop represents a parallel universe, one of a million different worlds inhabited by countless different variations and mirrors of yourself. [after 1 second] The changes range from subtle and almost unnoticeable to wildly divergent, but one thing you all share is the same turning points in your personal history. The inevitability that your actions will bring you to the same point: the [[destruction]] of the world. config.style.backdrop: "#722B1D" config.style.page.font: "Futura/Helvetica/Arial/Calibri/sans-serif 18" config.style.page.color: "#000000 on #FAF9F6" config.style.page.link.font: "bold" config.style.page.link.color: "#C0BABC" config.style.page.style.border: "none" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#643645" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#4B4446" config.style.page.header.font: "16" config.style.page.header.link.font: "small caps" config.style.page.footer.font: "16" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "small caps" -- <center>{embed image: 'apocalypse.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of buildings on fire'}</center> There are so many other versions of yourself still out there, fighting for their worlds and families. Some have managed to prolong the inevitable, while others burned out long ago. Your own world no longer exists. [after 1 second] On the day everything was destroyed, you took the subway one last time, hoping to catch a glimpse of your [[old home]].<center>{embed image: 'tunnel.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a train tunnel'}</center> But the train never stopped – it kept going, emerging from the underground tunnels above ground, to another world where things seemed almost identical to yours, where your family was still alive, where the worst things had yet to happen. [after 1 second] You didn’t stop to consider the situation, just dove right into a cycle of trying to save the world, taking the train when things didn’t go right, moving again and again and trying to fix things, thinking maybe the next time, the next time, the [[next time]]… <center>{embed image: 'train1.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a moving train'}</center> In one of those worlds, you met another version of yourself, the first one after countless cycles of reliving the same events with slight variations. [after 1 second] It’s no use, he told you. No matter what you do, that’s the course fate has set everything on. Not even you can stop the end of the world. [after 3 seconds] The next time you took the train, you didn’t get off when it stopped. You just kept going, kept riding it, losing yourself on the different lines, trying to find the [[end of the road]].<center>{embed image: 'desert.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a desert'}</center> Finally, you reached a world that had practically been turned into a desert. The train doors opened and they didn’t close again. You decided to get off, and explore. [after 1 second] At the very end of the station, there was a diner. A little run down and in need of a good scrubbing, but it made for a good shelter. The train waited for you on the platform, but the signs pointed that it was going back the way you had come – instead, you decided to [[stay]]. <center>{embed image: 'diner1.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of an abandoned diner'}</center> You tidied the diner up, got all the dirt and grime off. The place was still pretty well stocked, and miraculously, was still hooked up to gas, electricity, and water. At first, you only had to take care of yourself – but then others started to arrive. [after 1 second] Other versions of yourself, dropping in at the end of their journeys or the beginning of it, each just as confused, just as in need of rest. Strangely, the role of a caretaker came pretty easily to you. A place to sit and gather their thoughts, a hot meal, the occasional ear to listen, and then they moved on. [after 3 seconds] Some of them stayed. Chef, Waiter. Over the years, you’ve even amassed a steady group of regulars. It’s something to do, something to [[live for]]. config.style.backdrop: "#EFE280" config.style.page.font: "Futura/Helvetica/Arial/Calibri/sans-serif 18" config.style.page.color: "#000000 on #FAF9F6" config.style.page.link.font: "bold" config.style.page.link.color: "#5AC4B2" config.style.page.style.border: "none" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#643645" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#EF767A" config.style.page.header.font: "16" config.style.page.header.link.font: "small caps" config.style.page.footer.font: "16" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "small caps" -- <center>{embed image: 'opensign.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of an open sign'}</center> Speaking of regulars, it’s time to open up for the morning crowd. You head to the front door and flip the sign from ‘Closed’ to ‘Open’. Sure enough, two of your most faithful are already waiting outside, on separate train benches. [after 1 second] For the sake of distinguishing everyone, since you all have the same name, you’ve resorted to nicknames. Newspapers, for example, carries around a giant stack of the things wherever he goes, and always has his head buried in one. He’s working on some kind of giant archival project trying to document the variants between timelines. [after 3 seconds] Meanwhile, Coffee Snob is pretty self-explanatory. You don’t call him that to his face, but you can never remember his real nickname, so Coffee Snob has unfortunately stuck. [after 5 seconds] Come on, he shakes his head when you open the doors. Who do I have to kill to get my caffeine fix around here? [after 7 seconds] Yourself, you shoot back. And if you’re not careful, I’ll make it extra watery, just for you. [after 9 seconds] They follow you in and settle down at their customary places. You hear Chef and Waiter guffawing about something in the back. [after 11 seconds] Looking at your two patrons, you decide to serve one of them first, and leave the other to Waiter when he decides to come out and do his job. [after 13 seconds] Take [[Newspapers’]] order. </br>Take [[Coffee Snob’s]] order. <center>{embed image: 'newspapers.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a stack of newspapers'}</center> You bring him a cup of freshly brewed coffee – he always has the same thing, two sugars, no milk, because you’re all a little lactose intolerant. [after 1 second] What are you working on today? You ask him. [after 3 seconds] He barely looks up from his papers, but he taps his notebook in an invitation for you to take a closer look. It’s an incomprehensible grid of word choices, event variations, notes in terrible, cramped handwriting. Was your handwriting always this bad? You glance down at the notepad in your hand. [after 5 seconds] I’m examining the difference in semantic choices across reporting on the meteorite’s approach, he says. The slang used, the reference points drawn, that kind of stuff. [after 7 seconds] Huh, you say. Anyway, how do you feel about lemon ricotta pancakes? [after 9 seconds] To be honest, you don’t really get it. Clearly there are other versions of yourself that are more erudite and much more academically inclined. Each of you have your [[own strengths]]. <center>{embed image: 'coffee.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a cup of coffee being poured'}</center> He sits at the counter, and you’ve heard him say it’s because it gets him closer to the source, i.e, the coffee pot. [after 1 second] The moment you set down the freshly brewed pot, he slides over his cup, fingers itching to pour it for himself. The last time he tried that, he got a sharp rap on the hand from you, and he hasn’t done it again since. [after 3 seconds] You take your sweet time in pouring him a cup, and he slurps it up, probably burning the [[entirety of his mouth]] in the process. <center>{embed image: 'newspapers.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a stack of newspapers'}</center> Newspapers feels pretty happy with lemon ricotta pancakes, and asks if you have any hash browns or syrup to go on the side. You promise you’ll ask Chef. [after 1 second] Before you leave the table, you can’t help but ask. [after 3 seconds] I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but… what are you doing all this for? It’s not like you’ll ever be able to finish the work, and in the grand scheme of things, what does it all matter? [after 5 seconds] Newspapers looks up at you, big eyes blinking behind his taped-together glasses. [after 7 seconds] Well, why not? He says. We are the last people to exist on earth, on any earth, it seems. In all these deserted worlds, have you ever met someone other than yourself? Someone should document all these strange worlds, of the tiniest details of what has come to pass. I’ve met others who are working on larger histories and retrospectives, but I prefer to focus on the everyday. It’s an impossible task, but I don’t expect ever to finish. But who knows? Maybe one day someone will read it. Someone will continue the work. Someone will remember, you say. [after 9 seconds] Someone will remember, he repeats. And I guess it’s also my way of coping with everything. Just like how you have the diner, I have… this. [after 11 seconds] You leave him to his work, and go back to the kitchen to put his order in. [after 13 seconds] Hey, you tell Chef. If we have more to go around, give the guy some extra syrup. He looks like he could [[use it->Main Branch]]. config.style.backdrop: "#93BEDC" config.style.page.font: "Futura/Helvetica/Arial/Calibri/sans-serif 18" config.style.page.color: "#000000 on #FAF9F6" config.style.page.link.font: "bold" config.style.page.link.color: "#5AC4B2" config.style.page.style.border: "none" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#643645" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#EF767A" config.style.page.header.font: "16" config.style.page.header.link.font: "small caps" config.style.page.footer.font: "16" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "small caps" -- <center>{embed image: 'dinerinterior.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of the inside of a diner'}</center> The morning crowd thins, and the ebb is followed by a swell of customers as the lunch rush begins. You pour cups of coffee, dole out soups, serve the last of the pancakes and casserole, then start bringing out plates of pasta, toasted sandwiches, baked goods and stacks of hot fries. [after 1 second] Waiter works seamlessly alongside you, the best part about having yourself work with you is being able to anticipate each other’s needs and moves. It’s a strange kind of telepathy. [after 3 seconds] Other mirror images walk in and out of the diner, and you recognise most, if not [[all of them]]. <center>{embed image: 'coffee.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a cup of coffee being poured'}</center> Ugh, it still tastes like shit, he complains. How many months of making coffee and you still can’t figure it out. Maybe I should come behind the counter and make it myself. [after 1 second] Jeez, you roll your eyes. Who died and made you such an asshole? [after 3 seconds] He shoots you a middle finger, and for a moment, he looks exactly like Chef, from earlier. [after 5 seconds] Are you going to order any food or just talk shit about my coffee? You ask. [after 7 seconds] What’s freshest? He asks, nodding at the specials chalkboard. [after 9 seconds] Why waste good food on someone who clearly doesn’t appreciate it? You recommend the [[breakfast casserole]]. He is still one of your regulars, after all. You should steer him towards the [[pancakes]]. <center>{embed image: 'casserole.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a plate with food'}</center> Honestly, it smells pretty good to you when it comes out of the oven, and you’re almost tempted to try a slice when Chef shakes his head. [after 1 second] I might have miscalculated the best by date of the bacon, he said. I don’t think you want to take a chance on that one. [after 3 seconds] You shrug, plate it up and [[slide it over]] to Coffee Snob. <center>{embed image: 'pancakes.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a plate with pancakes'}</center> Your mouth waters as you watch Chef expertly flip the pancakes onto the plate. The scent of fresh lemon drizzled onto the stack, combined with maple syrup, reminds you that you haven’t eaten yet either. [after 1 second] You slide the plate over to Coffee Snob, and busy yourself with filling some of the serviette stands when you see him take a bite, then put his fork down decisively. [after 3 seconds] Steeling yourself for a complaint, you [[glance over]]…<center>{embed image: 'casserole.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a plate with food'}</center> He takes a large first bite, then chews more slowly on his second, narrowing his eyebrows and glaring at you. [after 1 second] You smile and throw him a middle finger back. [after 3 seconds] He swallows. At least the eggs are fresh. Still not the worst I’ve eaten. [after 5 seconds] He looks down at the rest of the casserole on the plate and shrugs, continuing to shovel it into his mouth. [after 7 seconds] What’s the worst you’ve had? You ask, even though you’re pretty sure you know what the answer is. [after 9 seconds] At the top of my list, probably lizard, he replies. Rats as well, gamey little creatures. I actually grew to like pigeon, though. A nice fat one tastes pretty good. Hard to catch, though. [after 11 seconds] I can get behind a good pigeon, you nod. In one of the worlds I visited, none of them could fly. Made them sitting ducks. [after 13 seconds] I think I might’ve been to that one too, he says between bites. It all feels like a lifetime ago. [after 15 seconds] For a moment you recall the dust of the road, the endless travelling, stepping out of the train and into callous and uncaring commuters, or resurfacing to face the desolate landscape of an already-destroyed world. It’s almost as if you can smell the hot metal, the despair, but you snap out of it, and then you are back in the diner, the soft hum of conversation and cooking all around you. [after 17 seconds] Coffee Snob is deep in thought too, his eyes unfocused as he determinedly chews forkfuls of the breakfast casserole. You leave him to [[his thoughts->Main Branch]]. <center>{embed image: 'pancakes.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a plate with pancakes'}</center> Just like Ma used to make, he says. [after 1 second] You reach over to steal a bite off his plate, and it’s really good. The texture, the taste, the steam wafting off it. It’s really good. [after 3 seconds] I miss her cooking, he continues, but he’s not really talking to you. If I could go back, I’d pay a little more attention when she made my favourite. I’ll never taste it again. [after 5 seconds] The unsaid words lie between you – how much you miss your family. How much you wish you could see them again. [after 7 seconds] The bell on the front door chimes and yet another iteration of yourself walks in. You go back into the kitchen, leaving Coffee Snob to his thoughts. His face is less cross than usual. [after 9 seconds] Hey, you tell Chef over the noise of the deep fryer. He looks up, shaking a basket of fries free of golden oil. [after 11 seconds] [[Good job->Main Branch]], you say. <center>{embed image: 'dinerinterior.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of the inside of a diner'}</center> There’s {reveal link: 'Glasses.', text: 'Glasses. There are a few versions of you running around with glasses, and you’re of the opinion that you look decidedly better without. He’s a quiet, nerdy kind of guy who mostly keeps to himself.'} Slimeball is also {reveal link: 'hanging around.', text: 'hanging around. Slurping down his customary order of lasagna. He got the nickname because he thinks he’s some kind of Casanova, and keeps trying to convince one of you to sleep with him. Truth be told, these kinds of selfcest relationships are not as rare as you might imagine – after all, you are pretty much the only person left on earth in all the possible universes. But this guy is so desperate to the point where everyone steers well clear and won’t give him the time of day.'} And who could forget {reveal link: 'Emo Rockstar?', text: 'Emo Rockstar? ...who is in desperate need of a haircut. His fringe falls artfully into his (your) eyes. He takes his coffee black. You swear you’ve seen him writing poetry on a napkin before. You may or may not have read a little bit over his shoulder. It wasn’t good. Still, if it helps him work through whatever you’re all going through, then [[who are you]] to judge?'} <center>{embed image: 'dinerinterior.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of the inside of a diner'}</center> That’s just a snapshot of those passing through. [After 1 second] There are countless others, each different in their own ways. Doctor, one of the few of you who has medical training; Horse Boy, because he rode a horse over once and now the guys will never let him forget it; a myriad of those that are you, just seen through slightly warped mirrors: Stutter, Off-Key Karaoke, Union Guy, Librarian, Gardener, Doomsayer – not to be confused with Truthsayer –, Swimmer, Baldie… [After 3 seconds] Then, after the lunch crowd starts to dissipate, your favourite guy turns up – [[Black Market]]. <center>{embed image: 'rucksack.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a rucksack'}</center> He’s a dealer and purveyor of goods to anyone who needs it, but over the years, he’s pretty much become your exclusive supplier. Thanks to him, your diner is always well stocked, with an eclectic mix of goods from across the universes. [After 1 second] He comes into the diner through the front door, a large rucksack slung across his back and his hands full of bags. There’s a little bit of stubble on his chin and neck – clearly he’s been on an expedition and hasn’t had time to shave. [After 3 seconds] Papa’s home, he announces with a shit-eating grin on his face. You roll your eyes, then show him into [[the back]]. <center>{embed image: 'kitchen1.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a kitchen'}</center> Chef already has a sandwich waiting for him, freshly toasted and with the edges cut off. Black Market gestures to the bags as he falls onto the food, devouring it as if he hasn’t eaten in months. [After 1 second] Slow down, you tell him. You’ll choke. [After 3 seconds] You and Chef dive into the bags. It’s a treasure trove of stuff. One is just a sack of garlic and onions, with handfuls of fresh herbs with soil still on their roots. A whole wheel of cheese stuffed into the bottom of the rucksack, as well as a large slab of smoked salmon, an industrial sized tub of butter, links of sausages, a bag of flour, and bars and bars of chocolate. [After 5 seconds] Hang on, Black Market says. I can’t forget the best part. [After 7 seconds] He digs into his pockets and pulls out a fistful of something plastic that crinkles in his grip. You have no idea what it is until he puts it triumphantly on the table – packets and packets of [[vegetable seeds]].<center>{embed image: 'kitchen1.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a kitchen'}</center> You and Chef both cry out in excitement, poring over the names, the pictures on the packets. They’ll make a great addition to the garden you’re trying to cultivate behind the diner. [After 1 second] While Chef labels and puts away the supplies, portioning them out and sealing things up, you let Black Market into the pantry, where you keep all the things that customers pay you in. Since money no longer works as currency now, you all trade in more practical things. Bandages, painkillers, antibiotics, bullets, the list goes on. He’ll take what he needs to trade with others on the road. [After 3 seconds] After he’s picked through the lot, Black Market stretches out and gives you an easy smile. [After 5 seconds] I’ve got no plans to rush off, he says. Anything else you need help with in exchange for a few square meals? [After 7 seconds] You could use some help with [[planting]] the new vegetable seeds he’s brought. [After 9 seconds] But, there might also be some [[old stock]] of interest to him, and you’ve been meaning to go through it all. config.style.backdrop: "#C48F6E" config.style.page.font: "Futura/Helvetica/Arial/Calibri/sans-serif 18" config.style.page.color: "#000000 on #FAF9F6" config.style.page.link.font: "bold" config.style.page.link.color: "#5AC4B2" config.style.page.style.border: "none" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#643645" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#EF767A" config.style.page.header.font: "16" config.style.page.header.link.font: "small caps" config.style.page.footer.font: "16" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "small caps" -- <center>{embed image: 'desert.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a desert'}</center> The plot of land at the back of the diner is a small strip of dirt not much larger than a backyard, and looks out onto the sand dunes in the distance. At this hour, the sun beats down onto your backs, but it’s nice to be [[outside]] for a change. config.style.backdrop: "#444140" config.style.page.font: "Futura/Helvetica/Arial/Calibri/sans-serif 18" config.style.page.color: "#000000 on #FAF9F6" config.style.page.link.font: "bold" config.style.page.link.color: "#5AC4B2" config.style.page.style.border: "none" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#643645" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#EF767A" config.style.page.header.font: "16" config.style.page.header.link.font: "small caps" config.style.page.footer.font: "16" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "small caps" -- <center>{embed image: 'stock.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of boxes and cartons'}</center> You let him into the storage room, where rows of shelving and crates gather dust. [after 1 second] There are some things you just don’t know what to do with – mementoes from your old homes, family photos and memorabilia from your childhoods. Sometimes your patrons need to let these things go, or perhaps just to store them in safekeeping. They need it to move on. [after 3 seconds] This is a real time capsule, Black Market lets out a low whistle and starts digging into the crates. He takes out a string of pearls, records, and inexplicably, a jar of sea algae. [after 5 seconds] Soon, you’re both sorting through stuff, occasionally stopping to point and show each other something interesting. Black Market crawls into one of the shelves, and at the very back, he finds a dusty bottle of wine. Neither of you are wine drinkers, but hey, the wine even has [[a cork]]. <center>{embed image: 'desert.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a desert'}</center> {reveal link: 'Digging.', text: 'There are already small sprouts coming out of the earth from earlier efforts. Potatoes, carrots, and leafy vegetables you don’t know the name of. Edible weeds grow here too – dandelions, wild burdock. Chef uses them for soup. Black Market hums in appreciation as he squats down with a trowel, and both of you make small holes in the earth.'} {reveal link: 'Adding fertiliser.', text: 'Another thing courtesy of Black Market – small pellets of some kind of fertiliser, and a heaping of Horse Boy’s trade offering, some manure from his horse that he comes by to top up every so often. It’s dried up in the sun and doesn’t stink, but has the required nutrients anyway.'} {reveal link: 'Watering.', text: 'Just enough to dampen the dry soil, turning dark under the water drops. Black Market playfully flicks a few drops at you, and a small fight ensues, both of you splashing water at each other. The water sizzles slightly as it hits the concrete around the diner.'} {reveal link: 'Sowing the seeds.', text: 'The final step. You and Black Market lay the seeds to rest in the ground. Like a burial, with the knowledge that new life will spring forth from them. Light winking out from [[all around them]].'} <center>{embed image: 'desert.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a desert'}</center> After the work, you sit outside with Black Market, cracking open an ice-cold beer from your private stash. You clink bottles and watch tumbleweeds chase each other across the horizon. Somewhere in the distance, a bird cries out. You wonder who it is looking for. [after 1 second] Look, Black Market breaks the silence. I have to tell you something. I’m sick. [after 3 seconds] None of you ever get ill, so this can only mean one thing. [after 5 seconds] Before you can think of anything to say, Black Market fills the silence. [after 7 seconds] Unfortunately, it’s pretty final. I’ve spoken to a couple of the others who have medical training. I have about a year or so. I’m more worried about who will take care of you guys. [after 9 seconds] He gives you a bright, but sad grin. [after 11 seconds] We have a little time, he continues. I have a couple of replacements in mind. People I can train up, and help figure the logistics out. I won’t leave you out to dry. It’ll take a little time to teach them the right places to look, the best stuff to get, but – [after 13 seconds] Before he can say anything else, you reach over to hug him tightly. The beer bottle in your hand froths from the sudden movement and spills onto the [[grey concrete->Main Branch 1]]. config.style.backdrop: "#40598C" config.style.page.font: "Futura/Helvetica/Arial/Calibri/sans-serif 18" config.style.page.color: "#000000 on #FAF9F6" config.style.page.link.font: "bold" config.style.page.link.color: "#5AC4B2" config.style.page.style.border: "none" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#643645" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#EF767A" config.style.page.header.font: "16" config.style.page.header.link.font: "small caps" config.style.page.footer.font: "16" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "small caps" -- <center>{embed image: 'bar.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a bar in the diner'}</center> After sundown, you typically get a slightly different crowd. The wounded, the bitter, the jaded. The ones who usually stick to the shadows. [after 1 second] The Doctor walks in and sets up shop in one of the booths, tending to anyone who needs their wounds patched up, no questions asked. [after 3 seconds] There’s a TV in the corner brought in by one of the patrons, with a DVD player and a growing library of boxsets. Today there’s a film club gathering to watch Ingmar Bergman’s The Seventh Seal. [after 5 seconds] Under the cover of dusk, this is where dark things flourish. Lovers meet quietly in booths, other versions seeking [[oblivion]] through more illicit substances. <center>{embed image: 'stock.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of boxes and cartons'}</center> Black Market pulls it out with his teeth and spits it onto the floor. You can’t be bothered with glasses, so you both take huge gulps directly from the bottle, the dark liquid staining your teeth purple. [after 1 second] You know, he says. Your work is so important. None of the other bastards will say it, but they’re all grateful you’re doing this. You, and the others. I hope you’ll keep it going. As a beacon of things not being so shit after all. [after 3 seconds] When did you get so sentimental? You nudge his shoulder with yours. [after 5 seconds] He opens his mouth, and you think he is about to say something, but instead, he just shrugs. [after 7 seconds] [[Someone’s]] got to say it, he shrugs. <center>{embed image: 'stock.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of boxes and cartons'}</center> The sun is setting as you help him pack up his stuff, and Chef has already poked his head around to ask you for help in setting up for dinner. [after 1 second] You help Black Market onto a train, and as the doors close, he gives you a [[two-fingered salute->Main Branch 1]]. You watch the train get smaller and smaller in the distance, until it is nothing but a plume of smoke. config.style.backdrop: "#3A507E" config.style.page.font: "Futura/Helvetica/Arial/Calibri/sans-serif 18" config.style.page.color: "#000000 on #FAF9F6" config.style.page.link.font: "bold" config.style.page.link.color: "#5AC4B2" config.style.page.style.border: "none" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#643645" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#EF767A" config.style.page.header.font: "16" config.style.page.header.link.font: "small caps" config.style.page.footer.font: "16" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "small caps" -- <center>{embed image: 'bar.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a bar in the diner'}</center> You open the bar for business, while Waiter and Chef work seamlessly, getting food out alongside the drinks ordered. After the great fight of Year 5, one of the diner’s rules is that you have to order food with drinks. You have a couple of people waiting for you at the bar, and you turn to serve them with a smile. [[The Doctor]] </br>[[The Film Guy]] </br>[[The Lover]] config.style.backdrop: "#334770" config.style.page.font: "Futura/Helvetica/Arial/Calibri/sans-serif 18" config.style.page.color: "#000000 on #FAF9F6" config.style.page.link.font: "bold" config.style.page.link.color: "#5AC4B2" config.style.page.style.border: "none" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#643645" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#EF767A" config.style.page.header.font: "16" config.style.page.header.link.font: "small caps" config.style.page.footer.font: "16" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "small caps" -- <center>{embed image: 'bar.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a bar in the diner'}</center> Slow day, Doctor comments, swinging his legs on the chair and half-watching the TV as he talks to you. [after 1 second] What, people too good to get injured now? You joke. [after 3 seconds] Or our numbers are dwindling, he shrugs. You look up sharply at him as he casually pops a crispy fry into his mouth. More of us are going to go eventually. I pity the poor bastard who is the last one after all of us are gone. [after 5 seconds] Doesn’t help that you’re racing all of us to the finish line, since you’re here each day killing your liver, you look pointedly at him. [after 7 seconds] After my life, I think I deserve it, the Doctor says. You roll your eyes. [after 9 seconds] What can I get you? [after 11 seconds] Surprise me, Doctor grins. [after 13 seconds] You take a look at your collection of bottles, and decide to make… [after 15 seconds] a [[negroni]]. </br>a [[warm tea]]. config.style.backdrop: "#334770" config.style.page.font: "Futura/Helvetica/Arial/Calibri/sans-serif 18" config.style.page.color: "#000000 on #FAF9F6" config.style.page.link.font: "bold" config.style.page.link.color: "#5AC4B2" config.style.page.style.border: "none" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#643645" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#EF767A" config.style.page.header.font: "16" config.style.page.header.link.font: "small caps" config.style.page.footer.font: "16" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "small caps" -- <center>{embed image: 'bar.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a bar in the diner'}</center> I’m in the mood for something dark, he says. I like to match my drinks to the film. [after 1 second] You don’t recognise this guy. In fact, you don’t really recognise any of these guys crowded around the TV. To you, they’re all Film Guy. This Guy has let your hair grow long, the fringe swooping artfully and framing either side of his face. Does he have gel in there? You’re both amazed and aghast at the amount of effort he’s probably put into it. Your own hair is long, but swept up into a tight bun so that no strands escape. [after 3 seconds] Well, let’s see what we have, you tell Film Guy. I can do you a [[black coffee]], or a [[White Russian]]? config.style.backdrop: "#334770" config.style.page.font: "Futura/Helvetica/Arial/Calibri/sans-serif 18" config.style.page.color: "#000000 on #FAF9F6" config.style.page.link.font: "bold" config.style.page.link.color: "#5AC4B2" config.style.page.style.border: "none" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#643645" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#EF767A" config.style.page.header.font: "16" config.style.page.header.link.font: "small caps" config.style.page.footer.font: "16" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "small caps" -- <center>{embed image: 'bar.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a bar in the diner'}</center> Two of your sweetest drinks, please, he says. [after 1 second] You’ve been keeping an eye on him and his partner since they first started visiting your diner. They tried to keep things quiet at first, sitting on opposite ends of the table and holding hands under the table, but after realising that no one at this time of night cared or even bothered what they did, they became more overt, sitting next to each other, whispering and laughing over food and drinks. [after 3 seconds] You actually think it’s quite sweet, if it were not still a little strange to see two identical versions of yourself sharing a kiss. You’ve wondered, but can’t be bothered to overcomplicate things. If you were really interested, you’d take Slimeball up on one of his many advances, but then again… you’re not that desperate to find out. [after 5 seconds] Sure, you reply to the Lover. Would you prefer something [[fruity]] or more on the [[chocolate]] side? <center>{embed image: 'negroni.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a negroni cocktail'}</center> He hums appreciatively and swirls the orange peel in the amber liquid. [after 1 second] Thanks, he says. Just what the doctor ordered. [after 3 seconds] He brings the drink away with him and slides back into the booth, where a patient seems to be waiting. [after 5 seconds] [[The Film Guy->1.1]] </br>[[The Lover->1.2]] <center>{embed image: 'tea.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a teapot and cup'}</center> An unusual choice, Doctor acknowledges, but cradles the steaming liquid all the same. I’m not complaining, I guess. [after 1 second] We need you to stick around a little longer, you say, faux-sternly. And I think the guy waiting for you back in the booth might want steady hands for whatever he’s come to you for. [after 3 seconds] Fair enough, Doctor says. He picks the tea up and heads back to his booth to attend to the nervous-looking version of yourself. [after 5 seconds] [[The Film Guy->1.1]] </br>[[The Lover->1.2]] config.style.backdrop: "#2D3F62" config.style.page.font: "Futura/Helvetica/Arial/Calibri/sans-serif 18" config.style.page.color: "#000000 on #FAF9F6" config.style.page.link.font: "bold" config.style.page.link.color: "#5AC4B2" config.style.page.style.border: "none" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#643645" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#EF767A" config.style.page.header.font: "16" config.style.page.header.link.font: "small caps" config.style.page.footer.font: "16" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "small caps" -- <center>{embed image: 'bar.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a bar in the diner'}</center> I’m in the mood for something dark, he says. I like to match my drinks to the film. [after 1 second] You don’t recognise this guy. In fact, you don’t really recognise any of these guys crowded around the TV. To you, they’re all Film Guy. This Guy has let your hair grow long, the fringe swooping artfully and framing either side of his face. Does he have gel in there? You’re both amazed and aghast at the amount of effort he’s probably put into it. Your own hair is long, but swept up into a tight bun so that no strands escape. [after 3 seconds] Well, let’s see what we have, you tell Film Guy. I can do you a [[black coffee->1.11]], or a [[White Russian->1.12]]? config.style.backdrop: "#2D3F62" config.style.page.font: "Futura/Helvetica/Arial/Calibri/sans-serif 18" config.style.page.color: "#000000 on #FAF9F6" config.style.page.link.font: "bold" config.style.page.link.color: "#5AC4B2" config.style.page.style.border: "none" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#643645" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#EF767A" config.style.page.header.font: "16" config.style.page.header.link.font: "small caps" config.style.page.footer.font: "16" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "small caps" -- <center>{embed image: 'bar.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a bar in the diner'}</center> Two of your sweetest drinks, please, he says. [after 1 second] You’ve been keeping an eye on him and his partner since they first started visiting your diner. They tried to keep things quiet at first, sitting on opposite ends of the table and holding hands under the table, but after realising that no one at this time of night cared or even bothered what they did, they became more overt, sitting next to each other, whispering and laughing over food and drinks. [after 3 seconds] You actually think it’s quite sweet, if it were not still a little strange to see two identical versions of yourself sharing a kiss. You’ve wondered, but can’t be bothered to overcomplicate things. If you were really interested, you’d take Slimeball up on one of his many advances, but then again… you’re not that desperate to find out. [after 5 seconds] Sure, you reply to the Lover. Would you prefer something [[fruity->1.21]] or more on the [[chocolate->1.22]] side? <center>{embed image: 'coffee.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a cup of coffee being poured'}</center> The simplest choices are usually the best, aren’t they? He muses. Turning away, he rejoins the group. [after 1 second] While it’s not anything fancy, the coffee smell comforts you, reminds you of routine and safety. [after 3 seconds] You pour yourself a cup to keep yourself going through the night. [after 5 seconds] [[The Doctor->2.1]] </br>[[The Lover->2.2]] <center>{embed image: 'whiterussian.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a cocktail'}</center> Film Guy takes a sip of the pale white liquid, and nods. Tastes like desolation. Sweet decay, or rot. Nice choice. [after 1 second] You nod back with some pride. You might not have watched the film, but you know what people want. [after 3 seconds] He slinks off to rejoin the others, tossing his head back so that his fringe falls artfully yet again. [after 5 seconds] [[The Doctor->2.1]] </br>[[The Lover->2.2]] config.style.backdrop: "#2D3F62" config.style.page.font: "Futura/Helvetica/Arial/Calibri/sans-serif 18" config.style.page.color: "#000000 on #FAF9F6" config.style.page.link.font: "bold" config.style.page.link.color: "#5AC4B2" config.style.page.style.border: "none" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#643645" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#EF767A" config.style.page.header.font: "16" config.style.page.header.link.font: "small caps" config.style.page.footer.font: "16" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "small caps" -- <center>{embed image: 'bar.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a bar in the diner'}</center> Slow day, Doctor comments, swinging his legs on the chair and half-watching the TV as he talks to you. [after 1 second] What, people too good to get injured now? You joke. [after 3 seconds] Or our numbers are dwindling, he shrugs. You look up sharply at him as he casually pops a crispy fry into his mouth. More of us are going to go eventually. I pity the poor bastard who is the last one after all of us are gone. [after 5 seconds] Doesn’t help that you’re racing all of us to the finish line, since you’re here each day killing your liver, you look pointedly at him. [after 7 seconds] After my life, I think I deserve it, the Doctor says. You roll your eyes. [after 9 seconds] What can I get you? [after 11 seconds] Surprise me, Doctor grins. [after 13 seconds] You take a look at your collection of bottles, and decide to make… [after 15 seconds] a [[negroni->2.11]]. </br>a [[warm tea->2.12]]. config.style.backdrop: "#2D3F62" config.style.page.font: "Futura/Helvetica/Arial/Calibri/sans-serif 18" config.style.page.color: "#000000 on #FAF9F6" config.style.page.link.font: "bold" config.style.page.link.color: "#5AC4B2" config.style.page.style.border: "none" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#643645" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#EF767A" config.style.page.header.font: "16" config.style.page.header.link.font: "small caps" config.style.page.footer.font: "16" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "small caps" -- <center>{embed image: 'bar.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a bar in the diner'}</center> Two of your sweetest drinks, please, he says. [after 1 second] You’ve been keeping an eye on him and his partner since they first started visiting your diner. They tried to keep things quiet at first, sitting on opposite ends of the table and holding hands under the table, but after realising that no one at this time of night cared or even bothered what they did, they became more overt, sitting next to each other, whispering and laughing over food and drinks. [after 3 seconds] You actually think it’s quite sweet, if it were not still a little strange to see two identical versions of yourself sharing a kiss. You’ve wondered, but can’t be bothered to overcomplicate things. If you were really interested, you’d take Slimeball up on one of his many advances, but then again… you’re not that desperate to find out. [after 5 seconds] Sure, you reply to the Lover. Would you prefer something [[fruity->2.21]] or more on the [[chocolate->2.22]] side? <center>{embed image: 'martini.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a cocktail'}</center> Is that a hint of a martini I taste? The Lover asks after taking a sip of the drink you hand him. [after 1 second] Sweetened with chocolate, you smile. [after 3 second] He likes chocolate, The Lover says. I gave that to him for our first anniversary. [after 5 seconds] How did you meet? You ask. You’ve wanted to know for a while, but have never found the right time to ask. [after 7 seconds] I’d fallen into a hole and broken my leg, The Lover smiles at the memory. He fished me out, took care of me until I was better. We’ve been together ever since. [after 9 seconds] That’s really sweet, you tell him. I’m happy for you guys. [after 11 seconds] Thanks, he says. His smile is so bright that it’s almost blinding. You watch him float off back to his lover. [after 13 seconds] [[The Doctor->3.1]] </br>[[The Film Guy->3.2]] <center>{embed image: 'pinacolada.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a cocktail'}</center> The Lover eagerly takes a sip of the drink when you set it down in front of him. It’s a piña colada, full of memories of sun and sand. [after 1 second] Hmm, there’s a song about this, isn’t there? The Lover asks. It’s been on your mind as well while making it. [after 3 seconds] The song comes to both of you at the same time. <i>If you like piña coladas… and getting caught in the rain…</i> [after 5 seconds] You both laugh. [after 7 seconds] Dad used to dance to that. The Lover says. It made Ma laugh. [after 9 seconds] You remember a little bit of that too, a flash of long-gone memory. [after 11 seconds] The Lover is still humming the song on the way back to his counterpart. [[The Doctor->3.1]] </br>[[The Film Guy->3.2]] config.style.backdrop: "#2D3F62" config.style.page.font: "Futura/Helvetica/Arial/Calibri/sans-serif 18" config.style.page.color: "#000000 on #FAF9F6" config.style.page.link.font: "bold" config.style.page.link.color: "#5AC4B2" config.style.page.style.border: "none" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#643645" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#EF767A" config.style.page.header.font: "16" config.style.page.header.link.font: "small caps" config.style.page.footer.font: "16" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "small caps" -- <center>{embed image: 'bar.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a bar in the diner'}</center> Slow day, Doctor comments, swinging his legs on the chair and half-watching the TV as he talks to you. [after 1 second] What, people too good to get injured now? You joke. [after 3 seconds] Or our numbers are dwindling, he shrugs. You look up sharply at him as he casually pops a crispy fry into his mouth. More of us are going to go eventually. I pity the poor bastard who is the last one after all of us are gone. [after 5 seconds] Doesn’t help that you’re racing all of us to the finish line, since you’re here each day killing your liver, you look pointedly at him. [after 7 seconds] After my life, I think I deserve it, the Doctor says. You roll your eyes. [after 9 seconds] What can I get you? [after 11 seconds] Surprise me, Doctor grins. [after 13 seconds] You take a look at your collection of bottles, and decide to make… [after 15 seconds] a [[negroni->3.11]]. </br>a [[warm tea->3.12]]. config.style.backdrop: "#2D3F62" config.style.page.font: "Futura/Helvetica/Arial/Calibri/sans-serif 18" config.style.page.color: "#000000 on #FAF9F6" config.style.page.link.font: "bold" config.style.page.link.color: "#5AC4B2" config.style.page.style.border: "none" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#643645" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#EF767A" config.style.page.header.font: "16" config.style.page.header.link.font: "small caps" config.style.page.footer.font: "16" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "small caps" -- <center>{embed image: 'bar.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a bar in the diner'}</center> I’m in the mood for something dark, he says. I like to match my drinks to the film. [after 1 second] You don’t recognise this guy. In fact, you don’t really recognise any of these guys crowded around the TV. To you, they’re all Film Guy. This Guy has let your hair grow long, the fringe swooping artfully and framing either side of his face. Does he have gel in there? You’re both amazed and aghast at the amount of effort he’s probably put into it. Your own hair is long, but swept up into a tight bun so that no strands escape. [after 3 seconds] Well, let’s see what we have, you tell Film Guy. I can do you a [[black coffee->3.21]], or a [[White Russian->3.22]]? <center>{embed image: 'coffee.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a cup of coffee being poured'}</center> The simplest choices are usually the best, aren’t they? He muses. Turning away, he rejoins the group. [after 1 second] While it’s not anything fancy, the coffee smell comforts you, reminds you of routine and safety. [after 3 seconds] You pour yourself a cup to keep yourself going through the night. [after 5 seconds] [[The Lover->1.3]]<center>{embed image: 'whiterussian.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a cocktail'}</center> Film Guy takes a sip of the pale white liquid, and nods. Tastes like desolation. Sweet decay, or rot. Nice choice. [after 1 second] You nod back with some pride. You might not have watched the film, but you know what people want. [after 3 seconds] He slinks off to rejoin the others, tossing his head back so that his fringe falls artfully yet again. [after 5 seconds] [[The Lover->1.3]]config.style.backdrop: "#273654" config.style.page.font: "Futura/Helvetica/Arial/Calibri/sans-serif 18" config.style.page.color: "#000000 on #FAF9F6" config.style.page.link.font: "bold" config.style.page.link.color: "#5AC4B2" config.style.page.style.border: "none" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#643645" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#EF767A" config.style.page.header.font: "16" config.style.page.header.link.font: "small caps" config.style.page.footer.font: "16" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "small caps" -- <center>{embed image: 'bar.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a bar in the diner'}</center> Two of your sweetest drinks, please, he says. [after 1 second] You’ve been keeping an eye on him and his partner since they first started visiting your diner. They tried to keep things quiet at first, sitting on opposite ends of the table and holding hands under the table, but after realising that no one at this time of night cared or even bothered what they did, they became more overt, sitting next to each other, whispering and laughing over food and drinks. [after 3 seconds] You actually think it’s quite sweet, if it were not still a little strange to see two identical versions of yourself sharing a kiss. You’ve wondered, but can’t be bothered to overcomplicate things. If you were really interested, you’d take Slimeball up on one of his many advances, but then again… you’re not that desperate to find out. [after 5 seconds] Sure, you reply to the Lover. Would you prefer something [[fruity->1.31]] or more on the [[chocolate->1.32]] side? <center>{embed image: 'pinacolada.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a cocktail'}</center> The Lover eagerly takes a sip of the drink when you set it down in front of him. It’s a piña colada, full of memories of sun and sand. [after 1 second] Hmm, there’s a song about this, isn’t there? The Lover asks. It’s been on your mind as well while making it. [after 3 seconds] The song comes to both of you at the same time. <i>If you like piña coladas… and getting caught in the rain…</i> [after 5 seconds] You both laugh. [after 7 seconds] Dad used to dance to that. The Lover says. It made Ma laugh. [after 9 seconds] You remember a little bit of that too, a flash of long-gone memory. [after 11 seconds] The Lover is still humming the song on the way back to his counterpart. [after 13 seconds] [[Time to close up.]]<center>{embed image: 'martini.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a cocktail'}</center> Is that a hint of a martini I taste? The Lover asks after taking a sip of the drink you hand him. [after 1 second] Sweetened with chocolate, you smile. [after 3 second] He likes chocolate, The Lover says. I gave that to him for our first anniversary. [after 5 seconds] How did you meet? You ask. You’ve wanted to know for a while, but have never found the right time to ask. [after 7 seconds] I’d fallen into a hole and broken my leg, The Lover smiles at the memory. He fished me out, took care of me until I was better. We’ve been together ever since. [after 9 seconds] That’s really sweet, you tell him. I’m happy for you guys. [after 11 seconds] Thanks, he says. His smile is so bright that it’s almost blinding. You watch him float off back to his lover. [after 13 seconds] [[Time to close up.]] config.style.backdrop: "#202D46" config.style.page.font: "Futura/Helvetica/Arial/Calibri/sans-serif 18" config.style.page.color: "#000000 on #FAF9F6" config.style.page.link.font: "bold" config.style.page.link.color: "#5AC4B2" config.style.page.style.border: "none" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#643645" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#EF767A" config.style.page.header.font: "16" config.style.page.header.link.font: "small caps" config.style.page.footer.font: "16" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "small caps" -- <center>{embed image: 'trainstation2.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a train station'}</center> The night winds on, the steady chatter and laughter winding down into a quiet, barely-there murmur. [after 1 second] By the time it hits 2am, all the regular patrons have cleared out, the Doctor is snoring on the seats in the booth, and Chef and his poker buddies have dragged some chairs around a table, and are at it again. Waiter has clocked off and disappeared to who knows where. [after 3 seconds] You wonder where everyone goes back to at the end of the night, and what holes they scurry off to. Your own bed is waiting for you upstairs, in a tiny closet at the top of the stairs next to the supply closet. [after 5 seconds] But you’re not ready to turn in yet. You head outside to enjoy your only vice – a single cigarette at the end]of each day. [after 7 seconds] The world is so peaceful at this time of night. You look out at the neverending train tracks, wonder if you walked down them and kept going, how [[far]] would you be able to get? <center>{embed image: 'pinacolada.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a cocktail'}</center> The Lover eagerly takes a sip of the drink when you set it down in front of him. It’s a piña colada, full of memories of sun and sand. [after 1 second] Hmm, there’s a song about this, isn’t there? The Lover asks. It’s been on your mind as well while making it. [after 3 seconds] The song comes to both of you at the same time. <i>If you like piña coladas… and getting caught in the rain…</i> [after 5 seconds] You both laugh. [after 7 seconds] Dad used to dance to that. The Lover says. It made Ma laugh. [after 9 seconds] You remember a little bit of that too, a flash of long-gone memory. [after 11 seconds] The Lover is still humming the song on the way back to his counterpart. [after 13 seconds] [[The Film Guy->1.4]]<center>{embed image: 'martini.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a cocktail'}</center> Is that a hint of a martini I taste? The Lover asks after taking a sip of the drink you hand him. [after 1 second] Sweetened with chocolate, you smile. [after 3 second] He likes chocolate, The Lover says. I gave that to him for our first anniversary. [after 5 seconds] How did you meet? You ask. You’ve wanted to know for a while, but have never found the right time to ask. [after 7 seconds] I’d fallen into a hole and broken my leg, The Lover smiles at the memory. He fished me out, took care of me until I was better. We’ve been together ever since. [after 9 seconds] That’s really sweet, you tell him. I’m happy for you guys. [after 11 seconds] Thanks, he says. His smile is so bright that it’s almost blinding. You watch him float off back to his lover. [after 13 seconds] [[The Film Guy->1.4]]config.style.backdrop: "#273654" config.style.page.font: "Futura/Helvetica/Arial/Calibri/sans-serif 18" config.style.page.color: "#000000 on #FAF9F6" config.style.page.link.font: "bold" config.style.page.link.color: "#5AC4B2" config.style.page.style.border: "none" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#643645" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#EF767A" config.style.page.header.font: "16" config.style.page.header.link.font: "small caps" config.style.page.footer.font: "16" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "small caps" -- <center>{embed image: 'bar.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a bar in the diner'}</center> I’m in the mood for something dark, he says. I like to match my drinks to the film. [after 1 second] You don’t recognise this guy. In fact, you don’t really recognise any of these guys crowded around the TV. To you, they’re all Film Guy. This Guy has let your hair grow long, the fringe swooping artfully and framing either side of his face. Does he have gel in there? You’re both amazed and aghast at the amount of effort he’s probably put into it. Your own hair is long, but swept up into a tight bun so that no strands escape. [after 3 seconds] Well, let’s see what we have, you tell Film Guy. I can do you a [[black coffee->1.41]], or a [[White Russian->1.42]]? <center>{embed image: 'coffee.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a cup of coffee being poured'}</center> The simplest choices are usually the best, aren’t they? He muses. Turning away, he rejoins the group. [after 1 second] While it’s not anything fancy, the coffee smell comforts you, reminds you of routine and safety. [after 3 seconds] You pour yourself a cup to keep yourself going through the night. [after 5 seconds] [[Time to close up.]] <center>{embed image: 'whiterussian.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a cocktail'}</center> Film Guy takes a sip of the pale white liquid, and nods. Tastes like desolation. Sweet decay, or rot. Nice choice. [after 1 second] You nod back with some pride. You might not have watched the film, but you know what people want. [after 3 seconds] He slinks off to rejoin the others, tossing his head back so that his fringe falls artfully yet again. [after 5 seconds] [[Time to close up.]] <center>{embed image: 'negroni.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a negroni cocktail'}</center> He hums appreciatively and swirls the orange peel in the amber liquid. [after 1 second] Thanks, he says. Just what the doctor ordered. [after 3 seconds] He brings the drink away with him and slides back into the booth, where a patient seems to be waiting. [after 5 seconds] [[The Lover->2.3]]<center>{embed image: 'tea.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a teapot and cup'}</center> An unusual choice, Doctor acknowledges, but cradles the steaming liquid all the same. I’m not complaining, I guess. [after 1 second] We need you to stick around a little longer, you say, faux-sternly. And I think the guy waiting for you back in the booth might want steady hands for whatever he’s come to you for. [after 3 seconds] Fair enough, Doctor says. He picks the tea up and heads back to his booth to attend to the nervous-looking version of yourself. [after 5 seconds] [[The Lover->2.3]]config.style.backdrop: "#273654" config.style.page.font: "Futura/Helvetica/Arial/Calibri/sans-serif 18" config.style.page.color: "#000000 on #FAF9F6" config.style.page.link.font: "bold" config.style.page.link.color: "#5AC4B2" config.style.page.style.border: "none" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#643645" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#EF767A" config.style.page.header.font: "16" config.style.page.header.link.font: "small caps" config.style.page.footer.font: "16" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "small caps" -- <center>{embed image: 'bar.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a bar in the diner'}</center> Two of your sweetest drinks, please, he says. [after 1 second] You’ve been keeping an eye on him and his partner since they first started visiting your diner. They tried to keep things quiet at first, sitting on opposite ends of the table and holding hands under the table, but after realising that no one at this time of night cared or even bothered what they did, they became more overt, sitting next to each other, whispering and laughing over food and drinks. [after 3 seconds] You actually think it’s quite sweet, if it were not still a little strange to see two identical versions of yourself sharing a kiss. You’ve wondered, but can’t be bothered to overcomplicate things. If you were really interested, you’d take Slimeball up on one of his many advances, but then again… you’re not that desperate to find out. [after 5 seconds] Sure, you reply to the Lover. Would you prefer something [[fruity->2.31]] or more on the [[chocolate->2.32]] side? <center>{embed image: 'pinacolada.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a cocktail'}</center> The Lover eagerly takes a sip of the drink when you set it down in front of him. It’s a piña colada, full of memories of sun and sand. [after 1 second] Hmm, there’s a song about this, isn’t there? The Lover asks. It’s been on your mind as well while making it. [after 3 seconds] The song comes to both of you at the same time. <i>If you like piña coladas… and getting caught in the rain…</i> [after 5 seconds] You both laugh. [after 7 seconds] Dad used to dance to that. The Lover says. It made Ma laugh. [after 9 seconds] You remember a little bit of that too, a flash of long-gone memory. [after 11 seconds] The Lover is still humming the song on the way back to his counterpart. [after 13 seconds] [[Time to close up.]]<center>{embed image: 'martini.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a cocktail'}</center> Is that a hint of a martini I taste? The Lover asks after taking a sip of the drink you hand him. [after 1 second] Sweetened with chocolate, you smile. [after 3 second] He likes chocolate, The Lover says. I gave that to him for our first anniversary. [after 5 seconds] How did you meet? You ask. You’ve wanted to know for a while, but have never found the right time to ask. [after 7 seconds] I’d fallen into a hole and broken my leg, The Lover smiles at the memory. He fished me out, took care of me until I was better. We’ve been together ever since. [after 9 seconds] That’s really sweet, you tell him. I’m happy for you guys. [after 11 seconds] Thanks, he says. His smile is so bright that it’s almost blinding. You watch him float off back to his lover. [after 13 seconds] [[Time to close up.]] <center>{embed image: 'pinacolada.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a cocktail'}</center> The Lover eagerly takes a sip of the drink when you set it down in front of him. It’s a piña colada, full of memories of sun and sand. [after 1 second] Hmm, there’s a song about this, isn’t there? The Lover asks. It’s been on your mind as well while making it. [after 3 seconds] The song comes to both of you at the same time. <i>If you like piña coladas… and getting caught in the rain…</i> [after 5 seconds] You both laugh. [after 7 seconds] Dad used to dance to that. The Lover says. It made Ma laugh. [after 9 seconds] You remember a little bit of that too, a flash of long-gone memory. [after 11 seconds] The Lover is still humming the song on the way back to his counterpart. [after 13 seconds] [[The Doctor->2.4]]<center>{embed image: 'martini.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a cocktail'}</center> Is that a hint of a martini I taste? The Lover asks after taking a sip of the drink you hand him. [after 1 second] Sweetened with chocolate, you smile. [after 3 second] He likes chocolate, The Lover says. I gave that to him for our first anniversary. [after 5 seconds] How did you meet? You ask. You’ve wanted to know for a while, but have never found the right time to ask. [after 7 seconds] I’d fallen into a hole and broken my leg, The Lover smiles at the memory. He fished me out, took care of me until I was better. We’ve been together ever since. [after 9 seconds] That’s really sweet, you tell him. I’m happy for you guys. [after 11 seconds] Thanks, he says. His smile is so bright that it’s almost blinding. You watch him float off back to his lover. [after 13 seconds] [[The Doctor->2.4]]config.style.backdrop: "#273654" config.style.page.font: "Futura/Helvetica/Arial/Calibri/sans-serif 18" config.style.page.color: "#000000 on #FAF9F6" config.style.page.link.font: "bold" config.style.page.link.color: "#5AC4B2" config.style.page.style.border: "none" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#643645" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#EF767A" config.style.page.header.font: "16" config.style.page.header.link.font: "small caps" config.style.page.footer.font: "16" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "small caps" -- <center>{embed image: 'bar.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a bar in the diner'}</center> Slow day, Doctor comments, swinging his legs on the chair and half-watching the TV as he talks to you. [after 1 second] What, people too good to get injured now? You joke. [after 3 seconds] Or our numbers are dwindling, he shrugs. You look up sharply at him as he casually pops a crispy fry into his mouth. More of us are going to go eventually. I pity the poor bastard who is the last one after all of us are gone. [after 5 seconds] Doesn’t help that you’re racing all of us to the finish line, since you’re here each day killing your liver, you look pointedly at him. [after 7 seconds] After my life, I think I deserve it, the Doctor says. You roll your eyes. [after 9 seconds] What can I get you? [after 11 seconds] Surprise me, Doctor grins. [after 13 seconds] You take a look at your collection of bottles, and decide to make… [after 15 seconds] a [[negroni->2.41]]. </br>a [[warm tea->2.42]]. <center>{embed image: 'negroni.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a negroni cocktail'}</center> He hums appreciatively and swirls the orange peel in the amber liquid. [after 1 second] Thanks, he says. Just what the doctor ordered. [after 3 seconds] He brings the drink away with him and slides back into the booth, where a patient seems to be waiting. [after 5 seconds] [[Time to close up.]]<center>{embed image: 'tea.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a teapot and cup'}</center> An unusual choice, Doctor acknowledges, but cradles the steaming liquid all the same. I’m not complaining, I guess. [after 1 second] We need you to stick around a little longer, you say, faux-sternly. And I think the guy waiting for you back in the booth might want steady hands for whatever he’s come to you for. [after 3 seconds] Fair enough, Doctor says. He picks the tea up and heads back to his booth to attend to the nervous-looking version of yourself. [after 5 seconds] [[Time to close up.]]<center>{embed image: 'negroni.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a negroni cocktail'}</center> He hums appreciatively and swirls the orange peel in the amber liquid. [after 1 second] Thanks, he says. Just what the doctor ordered. [after 3 seconds] He brings the drink away with him and slides back into the booth, where a patient seems to be waiting. [after 5 seconds] [[The Film Guy->3.3]]<center>{embed image: 'tea.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a teapot and cup'}</center> An unusual choice, Doctor acknowledges, but cradles the steaming liquid all the same. I’m not complaining, I guess. [after 1 second] We need you to stick around a little longer, you say, faux-sternly. And I think the guy waiting for you back in the booth might want steady hands for whatever he’s come to you for. [after 3 seconds] Fair enough, Doctor says. He picks the tea up and heads back to his booth to attend to the nervous-looking version of yourself. [after 5 seconds] [[The Film Guy->3.3]]config.style.backdrop: "#273654" config.style.page.font: "Futura/Helvetica/Arial/Calibri/sans-serif 18" config.style.page.color: "#000000 on #FAF9F6" config.style.page.link.font: "bold" config.style.page.link.color: "#5AC4B2" config.style.page.style.border: "none" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#643645" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#EF767A" config.style.page.header.font: "16" config.style.page.header.link.font: "small caps" config.style.page.footer.font: "16" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "small caps" -- <center>{embed image: 'bar.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a bar in the diner'}</center> I’m in the mood for something dark, he says. I like to match my drinks to the film. [after 1 second] You don’t recognise this guy. In fact, you don’t really recognise any of these guys crowded around the TV. To you, they’re all Film Guy. This Guy has let your hair grow long, the fringe swooping artfully and framing either side of his face. Does he have gel in there? You’re both amazed and aghast at the amount of effort he’s probably put into it. Your own hair is long, but swept up into a tight bun so that no strands escape. [after 3 seconds] Well, let’s see what we have, you tell Film Guy. I can do you a [[black coffee->3.31]], or a [[White Russian->3.32]]? <center>{embed image: 'coffee.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a cup of coffee being poured'}</center> The simplest choices are usually the best, aren’t they? He muses. Turning away, he rejoins the group. [after 1 second] While it’s not anything fancy, the coffee smell comforts you, reminds you of routine and safety. [after 3 seconds] You pour yourself a cup to keep yourself going through the night. [after 5 seconds] [[Time to close up.]] <center>{embed image: 'whiterussian.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a cocktail'}</center> Film Guy takes a sip of the pale white liquid, and nods. Tastes like desolation. Sweet decay, or rot. Nice choice. [after 1 second] You nod back with some pride. You might not have watched the film, but you know what people want. [after 3 seconds] He slinks off to rejoin the others, tossing his head back so that his fringe falls artfully yet again. [after 5 seconds] [[Time to close up.]] <center>{embed image: 'coffee.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a cup of coffee being poured'}</center> The simplest choices are usually the best, aren’t they? He muses. Turning away, he rejoins the group. [after 1 second] While it’s not anything fancy, the coffee smell comforts you, reminds you of routine and safety. [after 3 seconds] You pour yourself a cup to keep yourself going through the night. [after 5 seconds] [[The Doctor->3.4]]<center>{embed image: 'whiterussian.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a cocktail'}</center> Film Guy takes a sip of the pale white liquid, and nods. Tastes like desolation. Sweet decay, or rot. Nice choice. [after 1 second] You nod back with some pride. You might not have watched the film, but you know what people want. [after 3 seconds] He slinks off to rejoin the others, tossing his head back so that his fringe falls artfully yet again. [after 5 seconds] [[The Doctor->3.4]] config.style.backdrop: "#273654" config.style.page.font: "Futura/Helvetica/Arial/Calibri/sans-serif 18" config.style.page.color: "#000000 on #FAF9F6" config.style.page.link.font: "bold" config.style.page.link.color: "#5AC4B2" config.style.page.style.border: "none" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#643645" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#EF767A" config.style.page.header.font: "16" config.style.page.header.link.font: "small caps" config.style.page.footer.font: "16" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "small caps" -- <center>{embed image: 'bar.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a bar in the diner'}</center> Slow day, Doctor comments, swinging his legs on the chair and half-watching the TV as he talks to you. [after 1 second] What, people too good to get injured now? You joke. [after 3 seconds] Or our numbers are dwindling, he shrugs. You look up sharply at him as he casually pops a crispy fry into his mouth. More of us are going to go eventually. I pity the poor bastard who is the last one after all of us are gone. [after 5 seconds] Doesn’t help that you’re racing all of us to the finish line, since you’re here each day killing your liver, you look pointedly at him. [after 7 seconds] After my life, I think I deserve it, the Doctor says. You roll your eyes. [after 9 seconds] What can I get you? [after 11 seconds] Surprise me, Doctor grins. [after 13 seconds] You take a look at your collection of bottles, and decide to make… [after 15 seconds] a [[negroni->3.41]]. </br>a [[warm tea->3.42]]. <center>{embed image: 'negroni.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a negroni cocktail'}</center> He hums appreciatively and swirls the orange peel in the amber liquid. [after 1 second] Thanks, he says. Just what the doctor ordered. [after 3 seconds] He brings the drink away with him and slides back into the booth, where a patient seems to be waiting. [after 5 seconds] [[Time to close up.]]<center>{embed image: 'tea.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a teapot and cup'}</center> An unusual choice, Doctor acknowledges, but cradles the steaming liquid all the same. I’m not complaining, I guess. [after 1 second] We need you to stick around a little longer, you say, faux-sternly. And I think the guy waiting for you back in the booth might want steady hands for whatever he’s come to you for. [after 3 seconds] Fair enough, Doctor says. He picks the tea up and heads back to his booth to attend to the nervous-looking version of yourself. [after 5 seconds] [[Time to close up.]]config.style.backdrop: "#1A2438" config.style.page.font: "Futura/Helvetica/Arial/Calibri/sans-serif 18" config.style.page.color: "#000000 on #FAF9F6" config.style.page.link.font: "bold" config.style.page.link.color: "#5AC4B2" config.style.page.style.border: "none" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#643645" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#EF767A" config.style.page.header.font: "16" config.style.page.header.link.font: "small caps" config.style.page.footer.font: "16" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "small caps" -- <center>{embed image: 'trainstation2.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a train station'}</center> The tracks rattle in the tell-tale sign of a train arriving, and soon enough, one pulls up. [after 1 second] The insides are alight with a white glow, and the floor is pristine. The seats are plastic, uncomfortable. You could get on it, and be in another world by the time you wake up. But you have no urge to do so. [after 3 seconds] It looks like it’s just another empty train until you see someone step out of the very last carriage at the moment [[just before]] the doors close. <center>{embed image: 'trainstation2.jpg', alt: 'black and white photo of a train station'}</center> Even from a distance, you can see it’s a younger version of you. You remember the way you carried yourself back then, in a hunted, haunted kind of hunch. [after 1 second] Bloodstained and pale, he approaches you, gripping a barely-concealed knife in one hand. Then, when he sees you, he stops, and then blinks, utterly confused. [after 3 seconds] What is this place? He asks you. Who are you? [after 5 seconds] You take a final drag of your cigarette and stub it out on the ground. Put the knife away, you tell him. [after 7 seconds] Getting up, you jerk your head towards the diner. [after 9 seconds] Come on, you say. You look like you could use a hot meal. And maybe a shower. [after 11 seconds] You don’t wait for him, but go straight into the diner. Before too long, you hear the bell over the front door ring, as your younger self follows [[behind you]]. <center>END</center>Inspired by the songs randomly assigned as part of Shufflecomp 2024 - A Stray Child // Yuki Kajiura - Play It Safe // Tim Minchin - Ahead By A Century // The Tragically Hip - Entrance Theme // Ronny Quasar - Roman Holiday // Fontaines D.C. - The End // Halsey - Subway // Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Voice in Headphones // Mount Eerie Other, various sources of inspiration include but are not limited to: Number Five's arc in The Umbrella Academy, Ernest Hemingway's *A Clean, Well-Lighted Place*, Sarah Pinsker's *And Then There Were (N-One)*, and Steven Sherill's *The Minotaur Takes a Cigarette Break*. [[Back->Untitled Passage]]