Elan Vitale

(track: 'main', 'loop', true) (track: 'main', 'playwhenpossible') hey.(click-append: "hey.")[ I’m going to talk you through a hypothetical situation.(click-append: "hypothetical situation.")[ A situation you’re likely familiar with.(click-append: "familiar with.")[ In this situation, you’ve got yourself into a place where you shouldn’t be. (click-append: "shouldn’t be.")[ You’ve seen this place from outside, and it's caught your attention. (click-append: "caught your attention.")[ And then at some point, you’ve seen an opportunity to get inside. (click-append: "to get inside.")[ There’s probably nothing here, and at any time you can leave, by clicking the exit at the bottom of the screen.(click-append: "the screen.")[ [[Or you can continue|Intro2]] ]]]]]]]

Text that gets shown.

intro: ./sounds/intro.mp3, ./sounds/intro.ogg main: ./sounds/main5.mp3, ./sounds/main5.ogg

hey again <img class="fit-picture" src="./images/rain.png" alt="rain fall"> (masteraudio: 'stopall') (click-append: "into exurbia.")[

It's important that you know that no one is coming back. (click-append: "coming back.")[ You can snoop in peace. (click-append: "snoop in peace.")[ So you’ve broken into this place.(click-append: "broken into this place.")[ Lets say, it is a laboratory.(click-append: "it is a laboratory.")[ No, it’s a home.(click-append: "home.")[ Someone lives here.(click-append: "lives here.")[ But it’s been expanded to become a laboratory as well.(click-append: "as well.")[ Yeah, that sounds right. So would you like to look around? [[Yeah, I would like to look around.|LookAround1]] ]]]]]]]

You’re in this flat, it’s dark. It smells old. The curtains are drawn. By the light that creeps around them you can see that someone has cut the light fixture from the cable that hangs from the ceiling. Where there would have been a bulb is now a tumorous arrangement of tape from which emerges electrical cables that snake off into the shadows of the room. [[I would like to open the curtains]]

(text-style:"sway")[At any time,] if you want to, you can (link: "leave.")[<script>window.close()</script>]

You try to pull back the curtains but they’re stuck. ''So you have a choice here. '' * [[I’m going to see if there’s anything stopping them from opening.|Unstick]] * [[I’m going to rip the curtains off the wall.|Curtainfall]]

You pull the curtain from the wall, along with the rail, a lot of plaster, some cobwebs, a container labelled as nunutropics(click-append: "nunutropics")[ which contains a very large and very dead spider.(click-append: "dead spider.")[ You feel an amazing rush of having finally expressed something what might honestly be referred to as ''agency'' but part of you still holds doubts about whether that is what this really is. With the curtains open, the room is now flooded with the purple orange light of a polluted evening in the kind of locale of wherever this is. [[I’m going to look around.|Hub]] ]]

So the curtains are taped together and to the window frame with the labels peeled off some food containers(click-append: "containers")[ on closer inspection the labels say “Doug Bowsers thousand year MRE, free of most carcinogens and diuretics, not for individual resale”.] [[I’m going to carefully open the curtains|ArisenApe]]

You carefully use motor skills arrived from millenia of evolution, chemical signals pulse, blood pumps, sensors predict and then correct courses in real time. You are a machine, a monkey arisen to the capacity of a minor god. And then.(click-append: "And then.")[ You put your foot on something.(click-append: "foot on something.")[ (later, much later you will realise it was a leaflet advertising a far right political organisation that at some point later has been folded to be used as an ashtray.)(click-append: "as an ashtray.")[ And then some point later folded again to be used to hold some server rack screws.(click-append: "server rack screws.")[ And then at some point even later used to hold some sweet chilli sauce.]]] And you slip. [[Uh Oh.|Curtainfall]] ]

There’s all the usual signs that someone was living here until recently. * There are stacked dirty plates in the [[sink]], * on the desk next to the [[computer]], * on a huge freestanding device that says [[SCANNER]], * on an armchair on top of [[piles of clothes]], * On another pile of clothes that also seems to function as a bed or more acurately a [[nest]]. (if:$TheDesk is true and $TheCanyon is true and $TheBuoy is true and $Flesh is true and $Damageddiary is true)[ * There is nothing more for you to find here. Its [[time to leave]]]

Dirty dishes leer at you from their piles on top of the split laminate worktop. (click-append: "split laminate worktop.")[ A bowl with the remnants of a ramen noodle soup sits alone in the bottom of the sink. (click-append: "alone in the bottom of the sink.")[ The oil and rehydrated vegetables swirl.(click-append: "swirl.")[ The image in the liquid moves before you, stirred by the vibrations of a passing train somewhere outside.(click-append: "somewhere outside.")[ The surface of the liquid becomes an eye.(click-append: "becomes an eye.")[ The eye stares at you from a distance that is inexplicable and incalculable.(click-append: "incalculable.")[ The planet is born.(click-append: "planet is born.")[ There is another pulse.(click-append: "another pulse.")[ The universe folds in upon itself and time winks out.(click-append: "winks out.")[ You see a figure riding a horse along an endless tundra(click-append: "tundra")[ which dissolves into a wash of deep arterial blood(click-append: "arterial blood")[ and then(click-append: "and then")[ ...you see a piece of paper covered in beautiful cursive handwriting. Just sitting at the counter. [[I’m going to read it. |TheDesk]] ]]]]]]]]]]]]

You carefully move the stack of artisan stoneware cereal bowls aside from where they are balanced on the worn membrane keyboard. Now you can see the monitor. (click-append: "the monitor.")[ the screen is still, except for a green text cursor. It blinks at you sadly. Next to it is the word Run. (click-append: "Next to it is the word Run.")[ [[I’m going to press ENTER.|Computer2]] ]]

You carefully step through a battlefield of empty energy drink cans with names like Fuck MAKER with TOURINE, (click-append: "Fuck MAKER with TOURINE,")[ Pinapple-Alt-F4-Alt-F4-Ctrl-Alt-Del,(click-append: "Pinapple-Alt-F4-Alt-F4-Ctrl-Alt-Del,")[ and “M-Loid plaK” and eventually you get to the thing with the word “scanner” on the side. [[I’m going to look closer.|Scanner2]] ]]

On the armchair is a small stack of plates and mugs, on top of a heap of clothes,(click-append: "on top of a heap of clothes,")[ they all seem to be start-up branded t-shirts and windbreakers.(click-append: "t-shirts and windbreakers.")[ The clothes all feature names that sound like things you recognise but with something wrong about the spelling,(click-append: "wrong about the spelling,")[ there are almost no vowels in any of the names,(click-append: "no vowels in any of the names,")[ except for one silver anorak,(click-append: "silver anorak,")[ on which is printed the name of company,(click-append: "name of company,")[ which is just the letter A in an endless line,(click-append: "letter A in an endless line,")[ like a scream that fills the entire garment,(click-append: "like a scream that fills the entire garment,")[ you hold up the jacket to follow the text,(click-append: "follow the text,")[ and a small sticky note falls out the pocket.(click-append: "falls out the pocket.")[ [[I read the note.|Flesh]] ]]]]]]]]]]

You balance yourself on a bookshelf filled with texts whose titles you cannot read,(click-append: "titles you cannot read,")[ stepping over tangles of cables,(click-append: "tangles of cables,")[ and an unfolded nautical map of the pacific,(click-append: "nautical map of the pacific,")[ and crouch by the nest. [[I look closer.|Nest1]] ]]]

''The page reads as follows.'' (text-style:"italic")[ ===Diary entry 0=== For a while I’ve had an occasionally recurring dream where I am standing over a large and expensive looking office desk made from a rich reddish wood finished with so many layers of lacquer that you might imagine the whole thing is transparent. I’m looking down at a huge map of all the places I’ve ever been, but they’re all out of scale and in the wrong places. Each time I have the dream I try to make sense of how these places in my past have been positioned. Then a thick grey velvet tide of dust creeps over the map and the table, softening its hard surfaces, obscuring all of the map, and I start to choke. At this point in the dream, my sleep apnea wakes me up, my eyes watering, and my throat dry. The entry ends. ] ''The entry ends.'' [[I’m going to look around some more.|Hub]] (set: $TheDesk to true)

The computer beeps,(click-append: "beeps,")[ it purrs, (click-append: "purrs,")[ it chokes, (click-append: "chokes,")[ it whirs.(click-append: "whirs.")[ The screen goes black. Then somewhere near your feet, a printer hidden in the gloom. behind empty foil packets, and what is likely the broken carcass of an emergency survival shelter, spits out a page in front of you. [[I’m going to read it. |TheCanyon]] ]]]]

''The page reads as follows.'' (text-style:"italic")[ ===0=== I went under slowly, and then fast. The armchair I use for this purpose at present is worn and pulls me into it, making it very unlikely that I will fall to the floor, pulling a catheter or worse from my body. My hands hold the armrests and they feel far away, somehow further than the lights across the valley through the window which I have positioned the chair to face. In the slightly smoked glass of this huge window that takes up almost all of one facade of the house I see a little of my own face reflected back at me over the west coast night beyond. I’m lit by my phone that is velcroed to the chair's headrest by my cheek, its screen stays on, incase I have need of it and I'm unable to issue a command with my voice I’ll be able to tap with my nose. I can see my lock screen in the window. It’s a photo taken from almost this same spot, just outside the window on the raised deck that hangs off the side of the hill. Though, in this photo on my phone it's dawn. My blood oxygen level drops like a rollercoaster and I'm gone. ] ''The entry ends.'' [[I’m going to look around some more.|Hub]] (set: $TheCanyon to true)

You look closer, it's a black and grey cuboid.(click-append: "cuboid.")[ You see now that it is homemade, adapted from a tumble drier.(click-append: "tumble drier.")[ Where it says “scanner” is in fact a home printed sticker.(click-append: "printed sticker.")[ The font is Impact.(click-append: "Impact.")[ The whole contraption sits on coasters, and from underneath cables emerges, having been threaded through the garbage that fill the room, making their way to the power-tumour in the ceiling, the computer, and into a hole cut in the linoleum floor of the kitchen area. [[I’m going to look even closer.|Scanner3]] ]]]]

You notice that the part of the cuboid that was once a dryer still has a hinged door set in it. [[I open the door of the scanner, prepared in my heart for what I may find.|Scanner4]]

Inside is a small chamber, like the inside of a microwave.(click-append: "the inside of a microwave.")[ It in fact is part of a microwave, complete with a turntable.(click-append: "a turntable.")[ A few seconds after opening the door, a light flickers on inside.(click-append: "light flickers on inside.")[ You can now see a camera in the back of the chamber, pointed at the centre of the turntable, and mounted on a belt so it can move up and down.(click-append: "move up and down.")[ Assumably.(click-append: "Assumably.")[ The light flickers, goes out, then comes back brighter.(click-append: "comes back brighter.")[ You can now see that the turntable is coated, in a material that is possibly glue,(click-append: "possibly glue,")[ you move closer,(click-append: "you move closer,")[ it's not glue, things are moving in the gloop,(click-append: "moving in the gloop,")[ you look closer still,(click-append: "you look closer still,")[ the surface of the gloop buckles,(click-append: "the surface of the gloop buckles,")[ tendrils stretch up from the turntable towards the light.(click-append: "from the turntable towards the light.")[ No, not towards the light.(click-append: "not towards the light.")[ They are reaching toward your face.(click-append: "toward your face.")[ [[I slam the scanner door shut.|Scanner5]] ]]]]]]]]]]]]]]

Alarmed, you step back as you shut the door on the scanner. The force knocks it back on its coasters, and as it rocks back toward you a piece of paper covered in printed writing slips from the pile of crockery and junk on the floats down to your feet. [[I pick it up and read it.|TheBuoy]]

''The page reads as follows.'' (text-style:"italic")[ ===0=== Idea. A large bell on a buoy in the pacific. It rings, and calls you (fucking idiots) toward it. I rushed the code and calibrated something wrong, so it calls to me as well (fucking idiot). I’m swimming out, and so is everyone else. Some people don’t make it all the way. Some people can’t swim at all and don’t make it at all, just doing that heroically embarrassing walk into the waves, putting all their effort into swinging each leg forward and counter balancing with the arms. Until the water is above their waists, then above their armpits, then its above your mouth, nose, eyes… Glub, glub, glub along the bottom, barely off the beach and under. Glub glub glub. I’m good at swimming so I make it further, close enough to see the buoy with the bell thrashing away with the motion of the sea that tilts it back and forth and round. I’m pretty good at swimming, so I get close enough to see it. It's red. However I’m out of shape and tired from working on this project all night (hence the mistake, fucking idiot), so I get tired and I know im going under before I make it all the way. But I’m close enough that I can see others almost reach it. They swim close enough to catch the attention of the other thing that the bell calls. Something that doesn't have to swim to get there, that doesn't get tired. With a wingspan like the height of my house, and looking like it might weigh about the same, kept in the air by long slow heavy beats of its wings. Black like a wet rock. Enough swimmers are getting close now. Their movements frantic, desiring to be near to the bell. Mad with that desire. Choking, joyfull, lactic acid thickening their bodies. The first swimmers are nearly where they can climb onto the buoy (what will they do then? Fucking idiots). I’m going under, feeling so stupid. The black stone wings beat one measure, fold gracefully encouraging the rest of the body to tilt forward as it reaches the zenith, then its whole weight drops toward the happy eyed swimmers like a comet or a fist. End of idea. ] ''The entry ends.'' [[I’m going to look around some more.|Hub]] (set: $TheBuoy to true)

''The page reads as follows.'' (text-style:"italic")[ ===0=== “Flesh is stronger than steel” This is the mantra of my mentor. She repeats it while performing another humiliation upon me. I’m dead again, things are happening without my knowledge. I’ll catch up when I wake, learning. “Flesh is stronger than steel” ] ''The entry ends.'' [[I’m going to look around some more.|Hub]] (set: $Flesh to true)

It's a pile of clothes, nearly a metre deep in some places.(click-append: "metre deep in some places.")[ Empty coffee cups and ramen packets are littered across designer dresses, home made knitwear, and things made in fabrics which would stretch and shine were it not for the stains. (click-append: "were it not for the stains.")[ There is a pronounced dent in the centre of the pile.(click-append: "centre of the pile.")[ It is the shape of an adult human body,(click-append: "adult human body,")[ if it were curled up like a cat,(click-append: "curled up like a cat,")[ and in the centre of that is a notebook,(click-append: "centre of that is a notebook,")[ on its cover in gold embossed gothic script it reads,(click-append: "gold embossed gothic script it reads,")[ ''Joanna’s diary'' [[I read the diary.|Damageddiary]] ]]]]]]]

Most of the pages have been ripped out, only one of those still in the binding has anything written on it. ''The page reads as follows.'' (text-style:"italic")[ ===0=== One time I went too far. I did too much damage and the data I brought back was corrupted. The things I saw were also damaged. For example, On open water at night I was in a boat. The boat is a RIB which means a rigid inflatable boat. Solid and full of air like a bird’s bone. The outboard was gone, but a rope ran from the prow out ahead above the surface of the water until I couldn’t see it any more. I was sitting in the boat, and blood was pooling in the bottom. I had one of the diseases that rewire scar tissue, opening every wound I’ve ever had. Someone is pulling on the rope, but they are miles away. I’m worried that I might rot before they bring me to them. Birds circle above the RIB. For example, I’m working at an offshore oil refinery. There are bloody limbs everywhere. A human arm is jammed in a door, the sleeve of a company overall is still around it, ending where both are pinched off at the shoulder. For example, I’m talking to a friend in a coffee shop overlooking the tar pits. She says she’s being pursued by the law. She says she’d been involved in “magical illegalism”. I bring the comically large mug of my ayahuasca mocha up to my lips and over the brim I notice that all the men in line at the counter are wearing the same long beige coats, and they all turn to look at our table right at that moment and I spill the whole 227.3045ml over myself trying not to look like like I noticed. “Uh oh” says my friend, who had reached out to me for help. The entry ends. ===0=== ] ''The entry ends.'' [[I’m going to look around some more.|Hub]] (set: $Damageddiary to true)

Elan Vitale is an unlocked room scenario by Uma Breakdown It's made in Twine, Blender, Beep Box, and some online file converters I can't remember the name of. (click-append: "can't remember the name of.")[ Recently I’ve been struggling with coherence. I got sick. I’ve not been looking after myself, and I’ve been losing track of myself. (click-append: "losing track of myself.")[ I read “A Thousand Deaths” by Jack London, and watched a lot of film noir. I also kept thinking about stories that don’t resolve and those parts of video games or horror films where we are creeping around somewhere we shouldn’t be. (click-append: "shouldn’t be.")[ And I looked at all the things in my studio that I’ve been lacking the coherence to bring to a resolution. Bits of games, and stories. All looking like a skeleton, (click-append: "skeleton,")[ wearing a party hat,(click-append: "a party hat,")[ face down in a urinal,(click-append: "in a urinal,")[ holding 3 pieces of low level crafting material,(click-append: "low level crafting material,")[ waiting to be found. (click-append: "waiting to be found.")[ <3 ]]]]]]]]