revivalproject | [Calibrations] Dustin's Liminal Space Bookstore

Entry tags:

[Calibrations] Dustin's Liminal Space Bookstore

WHO: Dustin and you!
WHERE: Dustin's Calibrations room
WHAT: CALIBRATIONS TIME
WHEN: All through the Calibrations event - 6/10 -> 7/10
WARNINGS: Uncanny liminal spaces per the title, nonconsensual scientific experimentation on children, violence, injury, and assorted Creepy Shit depending on the memory. Also, your general Dustin-centric language warnings.

Darkness. Then the gentle chime of a bell, and a heavy wooden door coated in a thick layer of chipped emerald paint finishes swinging open, revealing a small, hole-in-the-wall bookstore. The shop itself is modestly sized, but any semblance of roominess is immediately and violently quashed by the sheer quantity of books, shelves, tables, books stacked on top of shelves and tables. The entryway is probably the most open part of the whole building, and that's only because there has to be enough room to let the door open inward, and because half of that entryway is taken up by a checkout counter. Or, the suggestion of a checkout counter - it's stacked just as high with books as everywhere else. The only thing that differentiates it from the rest of the shop is the L-shape of the counter, the fact that there's a Temba-style communicator sitting on the only clear spot on the tabletop, and the sort of unsettling tendency of the counter to always appear in the same relative location no matter how the room changes.

Oh yeah - the room changes. That will become apparent as soon as any visitors turn around and realize that the front door doesn't exist anymore, now replaced with another shelf of books pressed against the back wall. Trying to walk around the maze of clutter will reveal an impossible number of twists and turns; backtracking is pointless, as the path and local room layout changes as soon as they turn around. Maybe they've turned a corner to a dead end with a reading desk, then they spin and find that the only way out is via ladder to a previously nonexistent loft, and then that loft opens up to the ground floor again, somehow. It's a frustrating, literally impossible maze, one that could be wandered aimlessly for hours if the Calibrations program didn't time out first.

But things change if the visitor expresses a little more purpose.

1. The Terminal

The first and most obvious clue to this puzzle is the communicator sitting on the ever-present front desk. It can be picked up and tapped without difficulty and without memories being triggered. The usual menu for the communicators isn't present, though; instead there's just a black screen with a few lines of text, and a prompt:

unwelcome.visitor@temba:/Users/dustyThatcher/tmp/Calibrations$ ./Shopkeeper.exe
What do you want? □

Clicking on the slowly blinking square will bring up the keyboard, and visitors can type in whatever they want. The expected commands to exit the program still work, and in fact immediately end the dream as soon as they're entered - but maybe this program is set up to take other inputs, too?

2. Miscellaneous/Wildcard

POV: You're stuck in a bookstore with apparently no way out for at least an hour. What do you do?

The obvious answer is probably to sit down a read a book. There are quite a few of them, after all, of various shapes, sizes, and states of use, some with faded felt covers and others bound in sturdy leather, although none are especially elaborate. Not a single one has a title, so picking one to read is kind of a gamble. But as soon as one ends up in a visitor's hands, the cover immediately pops open and the pages rapidly flip through a memory from Dustin's perspective, in perfect clarity, before snapping closed again. They're typically only a few minutes long and of pretty mundane activities: Skulking around a small, New England town at dusk, excitedly bounding after a grasshopper at a park, eating a bowl of sugary cereal while reading a book. Some of them are even clearly of events that happened since his arrival on Agra-10.

Every single book is a memory. Picking them up at random produces results, of course, but if a visitor has a specific topic in mind, the next book they pick up after turning yet another blind corner is much more likely to contain content related to it. Having an intense and burning desire to escape this building, for example, would produce a memory of an adolescent Dustin rapidly solving a series of pencil mazes in a small, colorfully-decorated room next to a digital stopwatch - and if the visitor remembers the path he drew and follows it through the stacks, they'll eventually find their way to that faded green door.

3. Restricted

Not all memories are readily accessible. Inquiring after certain topics with the Terminal, or simply being curious enough about them that they should start appearing in the stacks, leads to a dead-end stack of books or haphazardly-tiled shelves piled to the ceiling. Topics along the lines of his family, his powers, or anything that happened before he turned six all result in this outcome.

But that doesn't mean they don't exist, or can't be found. A keen eye will notice that these obstructions are surface-level; there's gaps in the shelves and the piles of books that can be pulled away or crawled over, and on the other side is a small, surprisingly bare nook, dimly-lit with a low-hanging bare lightbulb over a wooden reading desk, with a metal bar spanning the path. RESTRICTED: AUTHORIZED PERSONELL ONLY says the sign pinned on the bar. There's nothing stopping a visitor from simply ducking the bar and going inside anyway.

The desk has three heftier books on them, and each of them actually has a title: Earliest Memory (CW: violence and injury of a child, Creepy Shit), Eyes Opened (CW: implied medical experimentation on a child), and Betrayal. Picking up any one of these books will also end the dream after the memory plays out.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

At a glance, Donnie's almost relieved, maybe even enamored, to find himself in a bookstore of all things. Sure, it's crowded and a bit claustrophobic but there are so many books and he'd love to just stuff them all into his eyeballs.

Naturally he takes a practical approach to the matter despite not being able to remember how he got here, but it is short-lived the moment he turns to find the door missing.

"Wha-?"

Yeah, that's...concerning. Frowning, he eyes the stacks with more suspicion, scanning the place until he notices the familiar tablet. What's that doing there?

Donnie weaves his way towards the counter, picking up the communicator. "Hm," he muses as he skims the line of text. "Some kind of AI?" Which is...weird in a place like this. Even weirder is the way the query is phrased, casual compared to what he'd expect for a command window, maybe even rude? Text is so hard to gauge for moods. Tapping a finger against his chin, Donnie decides to try pulling up a directory.

/dir

Edited (changed my mind lol) 2023-06-10 18:54 (UTC)

/dir
Fine, nosy asshole.

shopkeeper.exe              shopKeeper.exe          Shopkeeper_test.exe
Shopkeeper_test_1.17.exe    Shopkeeper_final.exe    Shopkeeper_FINAL_bugged.exe
Shopkeeper.exe              memDir                  mapGen

Anything else? □

Definitely rude, then.

"Huh. Well, points for personality quirks I guess."

Donnie skims the list. At a glance it doesn't seem to contain a whole lot of offerings. "Shopkeeper.exe must be this program..." He strokes his chin. Test? He puts a mental pin in things and decides to look into the 'memDir'.

/cd memDir
/dir

What follows is a rapidly-scrolling list of individual program files that rapidly fill up the terminal screen and just keep going. They all follow the same name format of eight numbers, underscore, four numbers - date and duration, year leading, standard enough of a naming convention for Donnie to probably recognize it.

After a solid two minutes of spewing text on the screen, another directory shows up at the bottom of the list of executables: memAdmin. And, of course, Shopkeeper has something to say about Donatello's continued investigation.

Good fucking luck parsing that I guess.
Is that what you wanted? □

It's not something Donnie's unfamiliar with, but he doesn't have all...whatever frame of time this place goes by- to go through everything.

"...hm." He rolls his eyes at the endcap of text before glancing back at the listing. He could just pick something at random but he wasn't even sure where to begin there. Maybe something from...early on?

The alternative option seems... Well, it won't help narrow things down, he suspects, but he's gone this far. "MemAdmin it is...." Donnie murmurs to himself as he types up the next command.

/cd memAdmin
Nah. □

"-what."

Donnie's brow twitches at that. "Well why put the option there if you aren't going to-" He takes a deep breath to calm himself. "Fine, fine, we'll try something else."

He goes back to the initial directory, looking back at the contents. Does he want to run these other shopkeeper items? He makes a face and decides to go with something else. "Hm. Let's see- this an actual map?"

cd ..
Yeah, I thought so.
/cd mapGen
/dir

Donnie is allowed into this directory, and much like the previous one it is absolutely stuffed with files. Except, these ones are all individual bitmap images, and the string of numbers and letters that make up their filenames are seemingly random. There's also a mapAdmin directory at the end.

This isn't getting much of anywhere without some reference point, Donnie notes. So much information potentially at his fingertips but too much to sort through, what a pain.

The snippiness of the program itself is also grating on his patience. On a whim he types back a response rather than a command.

Oh shut up.

The program responds back.

Fuck off.
My dream, my rules.
You're the one prying into my shit anyway, ass.
I'm allowed to be angry about that.

Well, Donnie had sorely underestimated the rudeness of this program. But there's something terribly familiar about it, and it starts pulling everything else he's passively picked up, knitting it together.

"Wait..."

...Dustin???

Yeah.
Who were you expecting?

The turtle wrinkles his nose before he expels a sigh, typing.

I don't know! I'm not even sure what all this is supposed to be!

It's a dream, Donatello.
I thought we already established that.
Pull yourself the fuck together, I don't need you hyperventilating all over my brain.

The expression on his face remains, unimpressed and just slightly more disturbed.

OMG sorRY! I'm not used to hyperinteractive dreamstates, okay???

Fascinating setup you have here though.

Neither am I, but you don't see me flipping my shit.

...Says the guy who has, in every dream he's found himself in, unequivocally Flipped His Shit. The Shopkeeper version of Dustin apparently isn't privy to this information, or perhaps just doesn't realize how much of a hypocrite he's being.

"Fascinating" is one way to put it.
I'd lean more towards "annoying as hell."
But I guess it's the best whatever system is running this shit could come up with to properly categorize and display my memories in a suitably interactable way.

Uh, I'd like to think that I have been handling this quite calmly! You haven't seen me tearing through stacks of books or anything, have you?

Donnie's actually more annoyed at himself for not figuring out who the program was emulating sooner.

Are you actually stuck being a program? Because I can see how that'd be annoying. This does seem an ideal way to categorize memories though.

...how do you get out?

Dustin does not dignify that first question with a response, partly because he doesn't find it important, but mostly because Donatello is right.

I wouldn't call it "stuck."
I'm aware of everything happening in this dream and can influence it, even from here.
Well, almost everything.
I can't boot you out, for example (as much as I know both of us want that to happen).
The program termination conditions are completely outside of my control.
I know there's a set path through the stacks that will lead to the exit, but

There's kind of an awkwardly long pause.

I don't remember what it is

Donnie frowns. So having someone to talk to may be a little better but Dustin's still not much help in figuring out his own brainspace, apparently. That's more worrying than annoying, but being who he is, Donnie still defaults to the latter.

"How can you not remember?" he sighs exasperatedly before pausing to retype it since he's not sure if Dustin's communication is limited to the tablet. Which be weird too but who writes these dreamspaces?

You can't control it, but...what if I tried to close the program? Would it affect here or you? That's kind of a tough one since here is kind of you in a way, but I don't want to risk something happening.

The little box indicating where Donnie should type flickers a couple of times - the closest this digital version of Dustin can come to shuddering.

That might work, but the idea of force-quitting out of my subconscious feels existentially unpleasant.

He doesn't comment on the question the turtle muttered out loud; either Dustin can't hear him, or he's choosing not to address the issue.

Donnie hadn't necessarily been expecting an answer to the verbal commentary he'd made. The more he thinks about it, the more troubling it is considering that Dustin's been able to recall so much else, so easily. His brain practically was a computer. "...guess that actually makes some sense then," he muses to himself before shaking his head.

I don't blame you there. I'd be super concerned about anyone fumbling with my brain stuff. That's precious cargo right there.

He looks around at the piles of books and the counter, trying to make out any pathways.

So. You know for sure there's at least an exit somewhere. I guess I just need to find it.

Taking the tablet along, he looks for any actual spaces he can pass between the stacks.

Yet here we are, fucking around with my brainmeat.
Not your choice, I know.
Don't know what the fuck the Atroma are getting out of this, but I hope they choke on it.

As Donnie peeks behind the counter, he'll probably notice that there's actually a small, rickety-looking staircase in the floor where a chair should be. Books are visible along the walls, all the way until the stairs twist out of sight. It's as good a path as any.

Meanwhile, Shopkeeper continues ranting on the tablet.

There's got to be, right?
That's how these dreams work.
There's usually some kind of

whoa
what the fuck
Did you just pick me up?

Weird social experiment, probably. If other people can poke around other people's heads, who knows what they'll find, right? And if the person who's head's being poked around can't do anything about it...

Donnie shudders at the thought. True, he doesn't really have any big regrets to anything he'd done, if mostly because he had a habit of not taking responsibility for anything that might've gone wrong if he hadn't managed to fix it. The idea is still a disturbing one. His thoughts and experiences are his own, after all.

Yeah. Was I not supposed to? I don't know how else to talk to you otherwise.

And he doesn't fancy being alone in here, but that isn't something he'll admit.

Donnie peers around the counter, brows lifting. "Huh. That's...interesting." He eases around the counter to look at this new option before shrugging to himself and starting carefully down.

No, it's fine, I think.
Just kind of disorienting.
Wasn't expecting to be able to feel that.

The staircase continues, down, down...two flights, then three. Finally it opens to a cramped landing, bookcases pressed against one wall and tables lined opposite, acting as a railing for the balcony Donnie arrives at. It's overlooking what appears to be the ground floor of the bookstore; the desk where the tablet came from is still visible in one of the far corners, a spot missing where it used to sit.

But there isn't an obvious stairway downstairs (or is it upstairs now?). The landing continues in a straight path ahead, as far as the eye can see.

Oblivious, Dustin picks up their conversation about the dream situation they're in, his discomfort apparently forgotten.

Fucked up, is what it is.
The Atroma could be using it to learn more about us, too.
If they can't read our thoughts already via the Agrii, maybe this is how they're figuring us out.
Alongside providing some morbid entertainment for them and whatever audiences they're still selling to.

"Whoa...."

Donnie looks around and over the railing, frowning thoughtfully. Getting down wouldn't necessarily be a problem; he's jumped from higher places. The better reason would be if there were any doors.

He walks along the landing to see if he can spy any doorways down below before squinting at the way ahead of him. His eyes finally fall back to the tablet.

Yeah, there's that. A veritable pool of information. ....
I hate that.

If there aren't any doors to be seen, Donnie will continue down the stretch of the landing ahead of him. Is there even an ending..?

starting with 1 let's see where this goes?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject