You scan the bustling evening street. You search the clusters of happy diners, seated at wood, and wire tables spilling out of restaurants and balanced on curbs. You're looking for any sign of the Slutty Cyborg, any way to follow her, but she's gone. It's as though she was never there. The dining throng is oblivious to your plight, dishes clinking, silverware flashing in the glow of the string lights overhead. You have the momentary realization that there is something off about the twinkling lights. The thought that they are strung on some kind of silk intrudes, but you dismiss it. You have more pressing concerns. Without the cyborg to follow, you're stranded here. Wherever here is. You crumple the paper coffee cup in your fist. For a moment you consider hurling it in a mixture of frustration, and rising panic. You're interrupted by a polite cough.
[[A young server of indeterminate gender approaches your table.|The waiter]]You get that shiver of deja vu this place gives you, like you've lived this moment before.
The server raises a single eyebrow in a professional, questioning gesture.
For some reason, this mundane interaction makes you as anxious as the memory of the nightmare train, the hungry shadows, or the possibility you may have died.
You're less sure with each passing second what really happened there.
You couldn't have died, could you?
The server clears their throat again. "Will there be anything else this evening?"
Do you
[[Throw the wadded paper cup, because nothing makes sense here anyway|Waiter unruffled]]
OR
[[Ask for the check|there was no charge]]
OR
[[Run away. You don't know how you can pay for anything|the truck]]The wad of crumpled paper flies from your hand.
[[The server catches it with one graceful motion, and pockets the trash|The waiter]]You have no idea what you're going to pay this person with, or even what the bill is. In your couple of flashes of interaction you've learned, with the Slutty Cyborg, it could be anything. You reach into your back pocket, and feel a little relief when your fingers encounter the stiff leather of a wallet.
The server holds up a hand. "There's no charge." They regard the crushed cup with the single expressive eyebrow, and tell you
[["The cup is complimentary."|the server turns to go]]
You dash, knocking over your chair in a clatter. You're not paying for whatever the Slutty Cyborg skipped out on. You don't think you have any money. You don't even know what they use for money in this bizarre place. You try to sprint, threading your way between startled throngs of evening shoppers, and ramblers. Someone shouts. You look over your shoulder to see the server, waving both arms in a frantic gesture.
You run faster, rounding the corner of a building. You trip off of the crumbling stone curb, and
[[out into the busier main street|oops]]For one eternal instant the world is only blazing headlights, and the angry blaring of a horn all around you.
[[The delivery truck slams into you|you're dead]][[you're dead|The waiter]]They clear their throat in a professional prompt. It's clear they sense your need for some kind of help.
[[Ask them where you are|they answer the lower east side]]
OR
[[Say nothing|the server blinks]]"Wait-," you start.
The server gives another crook of the eyebrow, not having moved to leave.
Your face feels hot.
You know you're about to sound crazy.
"Where am I?" Your words tumble out in a rush.
"I beg you pardon?" The young server's indie facade slips, a little. "Should I get the manager?"
"No no, what-" you wave a hand, trying to dismiss any concern they might have for your sanity. You're committed now. What was the word the Slutty Cyborg had used, "what is the name of this realm?"
The server blinks, looks around to see if anyone else has heard your mad babble, and answers, "Brooklyn?"
[[Accept this answer. At least it's earth?|the server blinks]]
OR
[[Try to remember the name the Slutty Cyborg used|Nor There]]
The server blinks, managing to make even this simple gesture expressive.
[[Your bewilderment must be showing|the server turns to go]]You put aside the small relief that you might at least be in your own universe, and clear your throat, steeling yourself.
"Does the name, 'Nor There,' mean anything to you?"
The server's face is equal parts perturbed, and bemused, "My apologies. I didn't realize you needed me to be so granular."
They thrust a hand into a pocket on the apron at their waist, pulling out an inkpen with a flourish. They gesture with the writing utensil as though standing in front of an invisble whiteboard. "Our present location is Nor There, the Milky Way, the solar system, Earth, the United States, New York City, and," with a dramatic flourish, "finally, Brooklyn."
You feel an odd comfort in your urge to ask them to specify which neighborhood in the borough. The feeling is tempered by the chill that the server has just confirmed, whatever Nor There is, you're still inside of it.
The server waves their pen around the clusters of picnic, and cafe tables. It's hard to tell where the dining area from one restaurant ends, and the next begins.
"Now, if there's nothing else," the server manages to be oddly polite, with a note of firm dismissal.
No closer to anything making sense, panic and bewilderment mounting,
you blurt,
[[what about the Slutty Cyborg?|The next note]]
"Excuse me," the server says, leaning forward to respond in a curt whisper, "there are other people-"
They break off. "Wait, didn't the cup say-"
You wave them off. "Yes yes, I've already read-"
The server teases the crumpled wad back into some semblance of a paper cup, glances at the Slutty Cyborg's note scribbled on it, and hands it to you.
The words have changed.
"Why so surprised?"
You realize your mouth is hanging open, and close it, reading the rest of the note.
"You //did// say you wanted to keep playing, didn't you?"
You stop yourself from nodding in dumb response to the note.
"Meet me at Grand Central by 10:30. Try to keep up."
It's signed, "the Slutty Cyborg."
You ask the server the time.
[[You have less than an hour. Start running.|truck redux]]
OR
[[Ask for directions to the subway|Spindle]]You dash, knocking over your chair in a clatter. The Slutty Cyborg is the only constant in this crazy place. You don't know what you'll do if you miss her. You try to sprint, threading your way between startled throngs of evening shoppers, and ramblers. Someone shouts. You look over your shoulder to see the server, waving both arms in a frantic gesture.
You run faster, rounding the corner of a building. You trip off of the crumbling stone curb, and
[[out into the busier main street|oops]]The server's look of confusion is genuine.
"I'm sorry, the, //'sub way?'"//
For a moment, you're speechless. The lived-in familiarity of human Brooklyn almost made you forget that this isn't your world. You have to adapt to the supernatural deviousness of Nor There.
Don't panic. You were just on a train. The word for it must just be different here. You try not to think about the odd, familiar screams in the dark, on the last train.
You force yourself to answer in an even tone.
"How else would I get to Grand Central Station?"
The server brightens. "Oh. You'll need a Spindle. Just a moment."
The server waves a hand over their head in a gesture born of clear habit.
Their eyes stare somewhere just overtop your head.
[[You follow their gaze|Spider]]
At first your mind can't make sense of the massive dark shape falling out of the night sky.
It registers that you are looking at a horse-sized spider, a second before the monster attacks.
[[You don't even have time to scream|Slutty Cyborg]]"If you want to keep exploring Nor There with me.
<li><a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@thesluttycyborg/" class="icon fa-tiktok"><span class="label">Comment on my tiktok</span></a></li> Tell Me, in your own words & Sign it with the robot emoji, and the blue heart.
THEN
<li><a href="https://onlyfans.com/stanzalaik" class="icon fa-onlyfans"><span class="label">DM me, on my 18-&-over site</span></a></li>
I'll give you access to an explicit prize, available exclusively to players of my game.
This week you get to choose your prize! Your options can best be described with: the //milk// emoji, the //eggplant & peach// emoji, or the final emoji- well there's no emoji for it. Lol. Let's just say it rhymes with, "begging." ;-) ''Come'' discover more secrets of Nor There, and the secrets of me."
~the Slutty Cyborg