Choices

Back in the fishbowl. I’ve already been and have yet to arrive. Time’s great ocean envelops me, as Rapture protects me from the Atlantic’s.

This trip is already harder. Last time, the city was more than finished. It had been raining in Rapture, but they had simply chosen not to notice, right up until the sea claimed most of its space back. In fact, getting the psychic-imprint mask was the only worthwhile result of that endeavour, and even that ended badly. Still, I’ve left the mask where future…past…a version of me can find it.

Otherwise, I’ve been ducking fireballs, avoiding turrets and been compared to a ‘parasite’. Womble and I have managed to stick together so far, but I grow concerned of the ever-growing noises coming from the ceiling.

Should this go the way of rabbits and Martians, I’ve cooked up a clever bit of kit. Both mine and Womble’s TARDIS keys now serve as locators, should we wish to find each other or the box itself. I’ve checked the maps in Rapture, and something like this would be useful if it transpired that Womble ended up in Point Prometheus and I get stuck in the Welcome Centre.

Still, there’s loads to be getting on with for now. I’ve done the ‘Splicer Tour’, now it’s time to look elsewhere. Find out what’s going on behind the scenes and what makes this place tick. The easy answer to that is ADAM, but I’ve no real desire to sink that needle home. Winter Blast and Electro-Bolt are all well and good, but addiction’s all the same. One day, ADAM and EVE will take a dirt nap. Where does that leave you? Singing ‘If I Didn’t Care’ while you check that the Health-Station sign doesn’t flash green.

Really plays with your mind, this place. I hope I can keep my sanity long enough to learn something useful. Or get out alive. Priorities change down here, and if you don’t believe me, just look at the children. God only knows I sure don’t want to…

HH

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