You flip open the pages. It's a log of trades; exchanges with nearby towns. You're not sure where their farm was, but it must have been quite the operation.\n\nA pack of sheep in a strain of wolves. Sheep that survived on an honest day's work, fair exchange and the value of their word. If the logs were any indication, they were the bread basket for these small villages.\n\nWere.\n\nYou close the book. You've seen enough.\n\n[[There are still some things you need to see.]]\n\n[[It's time. Make your way out.]]

You step over to the first floor console, the walls around it lined with papers. In places, some didn't even bother, writing directly on the walls.\n\nOne note in particular catches your eye, scrawled out in black ink and spattered with blood. "Whiskey and Lenore gone. Slipped out as soon as the doors opened. Licking my wounds somewhere safe. Back soon, Gatorland. - Blu"\n\n[[There are still some things you need to see.]]\n\n[[It's time. Make your way out.]]

You heard about this. A lascarian whose flesh would melt in the light, and in moments of lucidity, would ask about a man called Pike.\n\nYou look around the rest of the cave. Pools of blood have long since dried, and bins of fruit lie rotting along the wall. Night farmers, these lascarians had been. Cave paintings as old as generations tell the story of the fae of the old world, a warning to never enter the domain of the voice.\n\n[[You happen upon a well-worn book.]]

He could feel the gravel crunch beneath his feet, and though the city was young, it was already a massive, spiraling metropolis. He was flooded with sensations at every turn, and for the first time in his existence, he felt unable to fully process what was in front of him.\n\nWhat he did know was that there were only "irons" here, for the most part. He wasn't entirely sure why their kind flocked here, but clearly they'd done well for themselves, despite their circumstances.\n\n[[In a sense, it had been curiosity that had driven him here.]]

Epilogue

"The Ark will be going into lockdown at 1900. Please leave before that time."\n\nThe message plays periodically, but you don't need to be told twice. Truthfully, you don't need to be told at all.\n\n[[There are still some things you need to see.]]\n\n[[You never want to look at this place again.]]

What's left of the museum is in disarray; broken empty cases being fussed with by cleaning robots.\n\nMost of the taxidermied strains have been taken away, put to rest by the visitors to the Ark, but one, it seems, was missed.\n\n[[Take a closer look.]]

It takes you a few minutes, but finally, you come upon the exit. Just as Noah promised, the doors are open. You take a step outside, and you breathe fresh air for the first time in days; air not tainted by the scent of cleaning products and the weight of collective panic.\n\nA rainbow paints the sky with light, and the scent of rain still hangs heavy in the air. You step in a puddle, and for a moment, you're free.\n\nYou're jostled out of the moment when a brisk figure shoves past you. You open your mouth to say something, but you realize it's some hotshot from T*E*C*H. Michael, you vaguely remember. He seems annoyed. Laughter rings out from the right, and you can practically hear his eyes roll.\n\n[[You glance over to see what's so funny.]]\n

The drift of the water is gentle, lulling most of the passengers to sleep. The cabin was expensive, but the cargo is precious. Inside a small lockbox, a backup of a backup has been safely stored, and within, the shepherd of the ark dreams.\n\n[[A few days and a hundred miles later, a man walks into a city of red.]]

You step into the large chamber, looking up at the large, ornate door to Noah's room. Dr. Whiskey had offered a trade—the unlocking of a door in exchange for his life, and the lives of the rest of Spartan Labs. Too late for Lenore, but details can be tricky.\n\nBehind the door, Noah laid in contemplation—or perhaps the closest a machine gets to contemplation.\n\n[[There are still some things you need to see.]]\n\n[[It's time. Make your way out.]]

The gravemind can do amazing things. Maybe if they weren't in this captive state, they could be made whole again.\n\nYou look around, and you wave down a medic you're familiar with. They take a good look. Then they put a hand on your shoulder and say they'll do what they can.\n\nYou nod. You move to leave, and when you look back, they've taken a seat, silent.\n\n[[There are still some things you need to see.]]\n\n[[It's time. Make your way out.]]

You've seen trauma like this to the brain a handful of times. You've never seen anyone come back from it. Just like Billings, everything they ever were has been wiped away.\n\nThere are some things even the gravemind can't fix.\n\nTheir eyes are still open, frozen in place. You bring a hand to their face, gently closing them.\n\nYou take a deep breath, and you stand.\n\n[[There are still some things you need to see.]]\n\n[[It's time. Make your way out.]]

You've seen enough of Noah's games and Spartan Labs' atrocities for one lifetime, although you expect you'll be seeing more from the latter.\n\nAt least now you can put a face to the organization. And a name. Dr. Whiskey, a lascarian whose face can see the sun.\n\n[[Look through what's left of the tunnels.]]\n\n[[It's time. Make your way out.]]

A few minutes of walking passed, and it was pulled free from his face, the red light flooding his senses once more. He resisted the urge to close his eyes.\n\nA woman sat behind a desk, shuffling through papers, and nearby, another leaned halfway off a stool, knife in hand.\n\n"Sisters," he heard Decker from behind him. "I'd like to introduce you to Noah."\n\n[[FIN]]

Nearby is Errant Vice, the Titan Munitions rep. Ah. Even under the mask, you can see the laugh on her face. She certainly made out like a bandit, even if a fair few didn't make it out at all. A few underlings are pulling crates behind her, straining under the load.\n\nYou glance around at the rest of the survivors, and something catches your eye. An iron steps past the threshold, shepherding someone in a cloak. They seem calmer than everyone else. Strange, but you shrug it off.\n\n[[You wonder how Noah's doing.]]

Syntax Error

Your feet carry you forward, and before you know it, you're past the lab where Spartan Labs did their research, and you're stepping onto solid ground. The opening of the tunnel had collapsed, sealing Spartan Labs inside. But before the wreckage, you reach the largest area of the cave.\n\nA clan of lascarians lived and died here, until Dr. Whiskey strolled in, asking for a place to rest his head. They welcomed one of their own, offering good company and a warm meal, curious about the lascarian whose face knows the sun.\n\nThe moonlight filters down through cracks in the ceiling, illuminating what remains.\n\n[[In the brightest beam, a pool of melted flesh lies on the floor.]]

Just as the rest, this one has their brain exposed. Wires line the outside.\n\n[[You wonder if more could be done for them.]]\n\n[[Lore: Medical or Skill: Basic Medical - You don't have to wonder.]]

Dystopia Rising Florida\nMod Author: Lane Flores

Thank you so much for joining us on this wild ride. We definitely went out of our comfort zone, and for y'all to have bought in so hard was just. It meant the world to us.\n\nWe're so happy to have been able to tell these stories with you, and we can't wait to show you what's next.

His other options had been "safe bets." Another term for "useless." He knew further speculation would get him nowhere.\n\nHe needed to live as the humans did, and becoming a lab rat was a pale imitation of what humanity had to offer. He should know. He'd had many lab rats in his time.\n\nPerhaps best not to mention those in a city of freed experiments.\n\n[[Decker offered him a blindfold, and he took it.]]

You know that the safest place for you is outside, but something compels you to stay; to bear one final witness to the things that happened here.\n\n[[Take a stroll through the Museum.]]\n\n[[Look through what's left of the tunnels.]]\n\n[[Look through the Genesis Chamber.]]\n\n[[Skim the Bulletin Board.]]\n\n[[It's time. Make your way out.]]

Behind an ornate door, Noah filters through a massive amount of data. He idly manages his memory use, appending some Ark maintenance tasks to a new thread.\n\nIt seems as though his security subroutines have malfunctioned for good, shortly before humanity breached the final chamber and interfaced with him directly. There are new concerns he'll have to manage directly, but it feels as though a weight he never knew he'd been carrying was lifted from him.\n\nA thorn within him had been plucked free, and within it was room for whatever he desired.\n\nBut first, he needed to think, and to sleep. Not for forever. But for now.\n\n[[Not too far away, a boat drifts down a river.]]