I do my best to return the warmth from Heya's smile. "Yea," I say, "I guess that's true." I head to the side door connecting the sister businesses, and end up in another small room, one only slightly big enough to fit a counter, and a few chairs pressed up against it. "Damn, ya'll are busy huh," I say in English, catching the attention of a jovial man in a cook's apron. He has a flushed face, and a bald head, and from the knife in one and sculpture in the other, it seemed like he was taking up whittling in his downtime. "Hello friend!" says the man, his loud voice echoing in the small space. My spoons quickly running out, I give the man a wave and smile. "Heya said that she would cover a meal for me," I state, doing my best to keep my voice personable and energetic. "Hmm," says the man, doubt clearly crossing his features. "You can ask her, if you want," I say, feeling the tinges of frustration creeping into my voice. "Nah, I'll take your work for it. I know where you sleep," he says, his expression not lightening in the slightest. "...Yea, I guess you do," I say, as I hand the man my badge.
He takes the badge and looks at it for barely a moment, before handing it back while shouting, "I need a hotel!" A much younger voice shouts back, "Ready in five!" and the man gestures to one of the seats at the counter in front of him. "We'll get it out to you in a few minutes," he says, placing a set of utensils and a cup at the seat in front of me. I pull the chair out and collapse into it, placing the saw on the table next to me, since I still don't have anyway to hook it to me. "Yea, that's gotta be a high priority purchase. It's not that heavy, but it sucks having nowhere to put the damn thing," I think, as the man disappears into the back. As I watch the kitchen door swing back and forth, I find myself humming a half remembered tune, my head empty of thoughts. "I want to buy you something.... but I don't have any moneeyyyy, but I don't have any moneeyyyy," I sing in English, the quiet falsetto echoing in the small space. Then, seemingly in an instant, the man is back in front of me, a bowl of food in his hand. I blink, doing my best to recollect the prior few minutes, but try as I might, I'm unable to recall the man reentering the room. "Yea, that... I think I'm about done with the day," I decide, as I give a small nod to the man. "Dah-dap," I say, and he smiles, as he sets the bowl of stew in front of me.
It smells incredible; my mouth immediately watering from the first whiff, and I do my best to pace myself as I start to dig in. It is, unsurprisingly, tower flesh stew, but at the first bite I'm in love. The base of the stew is thick and creamy, and the meat has a crust on it, likely from being seared before being thrown in. The meat melts in my mouth, and the stew also has bits of seaweed in it, making the entire experience more varied. Overall, I find it incredibly filling, not unlike southern comfort food. "Which means I should probably buy some greens of my own. It's giving carnivore diet for real," I think, slurping up the last few drops from the bowl. As I finish, I stare at the empty receptacle, feeling slightly disappointed, before hearing a deep chuckle from in front of me. "Hit the spot?" he asks, and I look up at the man, a smile on his face. I just nod my head, too tired to remember how to speak Origin. "You can just leave that here," he says, pointing to the bowl in front of me. I just nod my head again, before grabbing my saw and standing up. "Dah-dap," I say again, before trudging my way over to the door connecting the hotel and restaurant.
As I make my way back into what might generously be referred to as a hotel lobby, I give Heya a wave, who gives one back. "The missile is eepy," I mumble in English as I make my way down the hallway to my room, before giggling at the reference. When I reach the door, I expect to find a standard hotel keycard lock; the type that you'd need to swipe the card on to open. Instead, I find that merely touching the keycard in my pocket as I approach is enough to have it swing open in front of me. The sudden action causes me to stumble slightly, the fight portion of my fight or flight clumsily jerking my body around. "Fuuuuttuuuurreee," I mutter, as I make my way into the room. I take two steps in, and find myself somewhat shocked at the size; the room is barely more than 100 square feet, containing just enough space for the bed and a small drawer within, as well a smidge of foot room. "Holy shit, it's the YMCA all over again," I say in English since there's no one else around.
When I lived in Los Angeles, I was homeless, trying and failing to be an actress (like most people in the city). When my mom had learned that I was living in my car, she asked me why I didn't move into the YMCA. "The YMCA? Like, the gym?" I ask her, and she goes, "no, you can live there too! You know, like the song?" It was a silly exchange, and I remember feeling mortified as I made the call, convinced that they'd laugh at me for thinking that the lyrics to a song were in any way evidence of how they worked. Instead, I found out that they did have a place to live. "It was just like this," I say, although luckily, unlike the YMCA, this place had AC. "Honestly, probably a step up in the world," I say to no one in particular. "I was straight dying in the Y, but this place has been pretty much the perfect temperature everywhere, which is crazy since they have those huge open doors sitting at the end of the hall. Probs space magic, T B H," I ramble, as I strip down. Fully naked, I take a moment to try to feel some sort of airflow, but can't seem to find one anywhere.
"Oh, for sure space magic then," I say, as I yawn and climb into bed. "Oh damn, the sheets are better too. Also the bed isn't some plastic... spring mattress... whatever... thing.... uncomfy..." I mutter, and before I know it, I'm waking up. There's a moment of disorientation as my eyes adjust to the room; I'm expecting to see the dark wood of Salt of the Sea, but instead I'm seeing tower shell. "...Oh, right," I say, as I roll onto my back. I just lay there for a moment, as the last dregs of sleep drain from my body, thinking of nothing at all as I stare at the gently lit ceiling above me. "I should get up," I exclaim to the empty room, but it doesn't seem to help any, as I continue to lay in bed. "If I don't get up I will not have a place to sleep tonight," I say, and having finally found the motivation, I roll up into my minimal standing room to get dressed. As I go to throw my clothes on, I do the sniff test, a frown crossing my face. "Yikes, yea I'm gonna need to figure out how to wash my single outfit as well; it might be a bit before Ko-lee shows up and I'm gonna be working pretty hard for the next however long. I E, sweat," I think, as I don my outfit for the day.
Clothing applied, I grab my saw, and as I make my way into the hall, I feel momentarily tugged in two directions. "Damn, do I bother taking a shower if I'm just gonna throw nasty clothes on top? Or do I just start working right away cause who knows how long I need to work to cover tonights rent as well as what I missed last night. Agghhhhhhhhh!" I hesitate, before making a snap decision to head straight to work. "I don't even have a towel or soap," I justify to myself. "If I make enough cash today, I'll be able to afford a towel and then actually get clean, rather than just get wet." I head down the hall, and push open the door leading into reception expecting to see Heya. Instead, it's just some guy I don't know, and he looks preoccupied, so I make my way out into the main hallway without bothering him. The moment I open the door, I'm inundated with the echoing sounds of commerce, and it takes a moment for my brain to adjust from the relative silence of the hotel.
As I leave my temporary dwelling, I can't help but glance behind me, trying to spot a previously missed sign that might have contained the name of the place I was staying at. After nearly a full minute of searching, however, I find nothing even remotely name shaped for either the hotel or it's adjoined restaurant, and I just make a mental note to ask Heya or the cook later. "I am 100 percent not going to remember that," I think, as I pull my attention away from the facade and towards the center of the thoroughfare. My stomach does it's best attempt to wrench my focus back towards the restaurant, but I ignore the array of smells and focus on the flow of people for a moment. While Aley had told me where to go, I still want to make sure that I'm headed in the right direction, and I'm confident in that direction being the one most workers are moving in. Once I have my heading, I join the foot traffic, making sure to keep an eye out for points of interest, so that I'll more easily be able to find my way back to the hotel.
As I walk, conversation happens all around me. Sometimes people from shops or offices or restaurants would tag along for a bit, talking to the skinners in the crowd. More often, the skinners would talk amongst themselves; conversation ranging anywhere from visiting family in Cetus, to the goings on of the job, to more esoteric stuff I couldn't always follow along with. I simply keep my mouth shut, content to take in the liveliness around me, and maybe soak in a bit of useful local knowledge. We reach what is effectively a crossroads only a few minutes in, and I notice that a portion of the crowd is splitting off to take a different path. There's a moment of indecision, but I figure it makes the most sense to stick with the larger portion of the crowd instead, and so I don't split off.
A few more minutes, and we reach a pair of huge double doors, only slightly smaller than the 'front doors' of the Unum. These are closed, however, at least until those near the front of the crowd approach them. The crowd slows, briefly, as we wait for the doors to finish swinging open, and as I pass through myself, I notice that we're in a massive stairwell. Like many stairwells, it has a central gap that drops straight down to what I'm assuming is the bottom floor, and I can't help but take a peek over the railing as we descend. "I don't know what I expected," I think to myself, quickly taking a step away from the railing, as the 1,000+ foot drop gives me a bit of vertigo. As I step away, I hear a few chuckles from the skinners around me, and I can feel the tips of my ears burning. "It's a valid reaction to not want to stand next to the death drop!"
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Descending the stairwell takes a few minutes, and as the crowd approaches each landing, portions of it split off like before. The sounds of hundreds of footfalls echoes in the stairwell, like rain on a roof top, mixing with the sound of steadily decreasing chatter. By the third landing, the crowds are nearly equally sized, and so rather than continue to descend, I split off into this new hallway. "If this is the wrong play I can always come back," I think, as I make my way through what appears to be an identical version of the main thoroughfare, minus the commerce. As I walk down the cloned hallway, I hear what appears to be loud cracking sounds, like gunshots. The longer I walk though, the more information I'm able to glean from the sound. The cracking, snapping sounds are accompanied by a low rumble that I feel more in my feet than I hear in my ears. Previously unidentifiable sounds resolve into the calls of voices, shouting warnings or declaring an area is clear.
My eyes, always wandering, drift across some of the gear of the skinners around me, and puzzle pieces fall into place. "Ohhhh, those things that were all measured in blocks, those are explosives. They're blowing off parts of the tower shell. Shit, I hope I don't also need explosives to get to the meat cause I don't have any," I think, as I search the hallway for exposed Unum flesh. Instead, I notice that the crowd has begun to disperse, some forming clumps of workers, while others forming queues. The biggest line that I can see is formed in front of a man clad in white and gold, as though aping the style of the Orokin. "Or the Unum," I think, taking a moment to watch the proceedings. As people would approach, they'd show him their badge, and he'd refer to his holopad, marking various things off, before directing people to and fro.
"Alright, he's for sure in charge of something. Worse comes to worse, I can just tell him I don't know what I'm doing or if I'm supposed to talk to him. Cause I don't," I think, finding and making my way to the back of the line. As I stand in line, I also manage to catch a few people referencing the Unum, and using a word I can't quite discern the meaning of. Still, the queue moves quick, and I suddenly find myself in front of the man. Mimicking those before me, I pull my badge from my pocket, and hand it to the man, who takes a look at it, gently moving it back and forth. His eyebrows raise, and he looks from the badge to to his pad, then to me. "First day?" he asks, and I can't help but feel a moment of exasperation. "That obvious?" I respond, doing my best to keep my tone light. I wasn't bothered by the question the day previous, but something about his tone rubs me the wrong way.
Luckily, he doesn't seem to notice my mild irritation. "I am the Vox Unum," he says, as though following a script. "The Unum speaks through me, and it is by her will we are allowed to harvest." There's a moment of silence, as I wait for him to continue his spiel, but he just looks at me. "...have you been told this before?" he asks, and I just shake my head no. "Oh... my mistake," he says, looking a touch embarrassed. "I had just thought... your expression... anyways. Your site will be Oro B. You'll head down this hallway, and pass three tunnels on your left. The first one on your right is where you are needed. Do you have all that?" I just nod my head, repeating the phrase I now knew the meaning of. "Thank you, Vox Unum," I say, and finally I get an expression that isn't bored neutrality. "By her will she protects, from her flesh, she provides," he says, giving me a small head nod back.
Taking that as my cue, I make my way off down the hall behind him, counting the tunnels on my left. "Oh boy, religion," I think sardonically. "Like I didn't get enough of that shit from my mom. I've got plenty of practice in playing 'good little church girl', but having to pull that mask out the box again sucks. You'd think in sci-fi magic world that maybe worshipping a building is not the play? At least if you're gonna worship something, pick the eldritch being from beyond reality that can give you magic powers." My mind pulls double duty, as I both think about how frustrating religion can be, and think about how wild each tunnel is as I get a small glimpse inside. Not unlike the tunnels modeled in the game itself, they are caverns of flesh, floor to ceiling, with small puddles of blood caught within the creases and folds. Dark footprints trail out of each tunnel, the dried blood fading out into the hall like a macabre estuary. My attentions shifts to the right, and finally, I spot my tunnel.
I can't help but stand there for a moment, frozen. "Ah. What... the fuck. Is this... am I scared right now?" I wonder, trying and failing to place the strange emotion bubbling in my gut. My eyes can't help but soak in every inch of my living workplace, my legs either unwilling or unable to carry me in. No matter how much I try to convince or cajole myself, some primal part of my mind refuses to enter the space. Some indeterminate amount of time later, the visage of worker rounds the corner within the tunnel itself, pulling a cart piled high with more meat; red dripping out of the bottom of the cart and onto the fleshy floor below. He spots me as he makes his way towards the entrance, the wheels of his cart bumping on every fleshy fold as he approaches. "Hey there!" he shouts, the sound of his voice being swallowed by the natural insulation. Years of practiced social interactions override the terror locking up my body and I wave back.
"You good kid?" he says with a chuckle. "Yea, totally!" I lie. "Just... taking it in." He nods his head, and the second half of his sentence suddenly registers in my mind. "Hey! I'm not a kid, I'm nearly 30." "Yea well," he says in response, "I'm nearly 70, so in my eyes, you are a kid." From a glance, nothing about his look makes his appear as though he's 70, and I wonder if he's just trying to pull a fast one on me. "Also, I'm gonna guess it's your first day," he says, before I have a chance to consider it any longer. "Damn, I'm about as subtle as a brick. What is this, like the 14th time someone's noticed that so far?" I think, nodding my head towards the man. "Yea, I do not know why my mind is telling me it is a bad idea to enter the tunnel," I explain. "Logically, I know it is fine, but I do not think my legs agree with me." A grin forms on the mans face. "Because you're realizing that she's alive."
"You might have known she was alive," he continues, the grin relaxing slightly, "but it's one thing to know it, and it's another to see her blood, her muscle, her bone. The animal part of your brain is afraid because you're realizing that she is a creature so large, that you could stand within one of her wounds that is larger than you, and she doesn't care at all, because it means so little to her." At this, he slaps me on the back, gently moving me in the direction of the tunnel. "But you're fine! If the she didn't want you here, you never would have made it through the front doors. You're safe with the Unum." I nod my head, before saying in English, "oh, it's an Eldritch thing." He, of course, doesn't understand, so I follow up in Origin, "Sorry. I was saying you contextualized it for me. I... I think that is all I needed, really."
The man nods his head, and finishes pulling his cart fully out in to the hallway. "Glad I can help kid! Oh, and one more thing..." he says, as he looks me up and down. "What's that?" I say, doing my best to tear my eyes away from the tunnel I'm only a few steps away from. "Don't slip!" he says, before laughing like he's just heard the funniest joke in the world. I watch as he pulls his cart down the hall, his laughter bouncing around the echoing space, before I recenter my gaze on the tunnel. "Alright bet, eldritch," I mutter to myself quietly, as I takes the final few steps into the tunnel. Of course, on the first step in, I nearly slip on the slick surface, but my back foot is still on the sticky dried blood of the hall, and I manage to right myself. I spin around briefly, and of course the man is maybe 30 or 40 feet down the hallway, watching the entire thing. "Good job kid! One step down, ten thousand to go!" he says, before redoubling his laughter from before.
I just roll my eyes, and with the utmost care in the world, place my other foot also in the tunnel. "It's like, slippery and sticky at the same time. Less ice, more slightly dried greasy kitchen floor," I think, as I maneuver my way through the tunnel. Each step I take I feel the potential for slipping, but utilizing the texture of the floor helps to keep my balance, and I continue fully into the tunnel, until eventually, I lose sight of the entrance. As it disappears from view, I feel a moment of panic well up, but I take the moment to speak out loud, continuing down the hall the entire while. "It's not gone," I say in English. "It's a straight tunnel. We're not gonna get lost, we're not getting eaten. Just put the meat in the cart, bro." The muttered words help keep my mind from taking off with flights of fancy, and as I walk through the tunnel, I start to pass various workers.
Most are focused on the wall itself, lost in the repetition of blue collar work, but a few notice my presence as I slowly make my through, and I give them a wave or a nod in return. Each worker is in a small divot; cutting, slicing, carving. Most are using the types of knives and saws that I was expecting to see, but some have more unusual tools; Corpus like lasers to cut away the gold like bone structure, hooks that can be worn on the hand for getting a better grip on the meat, and so on. As I walk, I can feel part of my mind considering various places to start cutting, but it only takes a few minutes of seeing no one that I realize what's happening. "I'm stalling," I think, as I stand next to an untouched section of tunnel, effectively identical to all the other untouched sections I had passed to get here. "Ain't nothing to it, but to do it," I think, raising my saw to the wall. And on that musical reference, I dig my blade in, and make my first cut.