[Calibrations] Dustin's Liminal Space Bookstore

[quark_assassin]

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.

Comments

[quark_assassin]

The right path twists, winds, and circles in on itself in several impossible turns. The bookshelves bordering it become taller until they start to lean inwards a bit. The incandescent yellow shop lights become dim, hidden in their looming shadows.

I don't think knocking them over would improve anything.
Destroying them might, though.
How much of a direct analogue do you think this space is supposed to be?
Would burning down part of it make me forget things?

A dead end, bordered by shelves behind a mishappen pile of books on the floor, as if they've been thrown there by someone having a tantrum. But an odd crease of bright white light peeks through the place where two of the bookshelves meet, promising something else behind them.

[thepurpleone]

The more the space above starts to feel closed off, the less comfortable Donnie feels about the whole thing. Still, he stubbornly proceeds.

I don't /think/ it would do any damage that would carry over but then I'm new to how this all works so I'd rather not risk it.

If Dustin's half as protective of his mind as Donnie is, then he doubts he'd want to experiment there.

The turtle's brow twitches as he comes to the dead end. He eyes the books there on the floor with a suspicious frown before his attention is drawn to the light there.

"Huh?"

Maybe there's more to this. Donnie carefully steps around the pile, setting his hands on the bookshelves to see if they'll move any even as he tries to peek between them.

[quark_assassin]

Agreed.
Too many unknowns, too big of a risk.
I don't even know if I'll remember enough of this to formulate a better theory later.

There's definitely a space behind the bookshelf, and it's definitely very different from the rest of the bookstore so far. Donnie can see it better when he shifts the shelf sideways slightly - a small room, harshly lit with stark white walls, a simple table and chair with three, thicker books on top of it. Only a push-bar gate with the words RESTRICTED: AUTHORIZED PERSONELL ONLY on a sign pinned to the front of it stands between them and Donnie.

It seems the change of scenery hasn't gone unnoticed from Shopkeeper. When Donnie next glances at the tablet, the terminal is still rambling on:

oh
hey what the fuck?
Where are you?
I don't think you're supposed to be here.
What's going on?
Donatello I need you to fucking talk to me

[thepurpleone]

Already Donnie's not sure he likes the look of things once he beholds the room. It looks suspiciously clinical, and while he hasn't any personal experience to really prompt him to have a true personal opinion of such places, there's just something about it that seems...

He squints at the sign. Restricted. Well that's not quite the word he was looking for but it does seem like there'd been effort to make this troublesome to get to.

Glancing down at the tablet, Donnie blinks.

Whoa, you can tell?
I found...something. A room? It was behind the shelves here. All white. There's like...a table and a chair with some books there. Just three of them though.

Um. It's also kind of barred off. There's a sign that says "Restricted: Authorized Personell Only."

Iiiii do not see any doors otherwise so I guess it probably isn't an exit, but kind of weird, right?

[quark_assassin]

Yeah, I can fucking tell!
It's like


I don't really know how to describe it actually
It's not a feeling, I guess.
I'm remembering stuff that I don't want to think about.
We're in the admin folders.

There's a long pause, the indicator square on the terminal flickering erratically the only sign that Dustin isn't finished.

I really don't fucking want you in here.
But I think it's the way to get you out.

[thepurpleone]

The words that eventually come up on the screen don't really serve to reassure him. Donnie looks back at the room again, and then starts tapping his reply into the tablet.

For the record, I'm not too crazy about wanting to go in there either. But if you think it's how to get out of here...

He sucks in a deep breath, steeling himself as he looks forwards once again, reaching out to push open the gate to step inside the secluded room. Naturally his eyes go towards the lone tomes on the table before roving around in hopes of a door.

[quark_assassin]

The tablet - so far silent as it accepts and displays text - lets out a long, static-filled tone when Donnie steps through the gate, like the sound of an old computer trying to dial into the network.

FATAL ERROR: Unhandled exception at ADMINBLOCK. Shopekeeper.exe shutting down. . .

No more inputs or attempts at reviving the program will be successful, and as Donnie looks around, he'll realize that there not only isn't a door out, but his way in no longer exists, either. It's just an enclosed, blank room, and he's all alone.

The three books wait for him on the table: Earliest Memory, Eyes Opened, and Betrayal.

[thepurpleone]

"Wha-?" Donnie blinks and starts trying to try bringing up, well, anything on the tablet. "Oh no, nonono- Dustin? Hey? Hello..?"

His eyes drift to the surroundings, the notably vanished way in. It's even more unsettling now that he's actually standing in the room, alone without even the place's supposed host available to speak to.

"...I hate this."

He hugs the tablet to his chest as he gives the room a once-around, trying to find any hidden seams, nope, nothing. A trap in a bookstore, how dirty! Who does that?!

Donnie's eyes finally look to the books, the only other occupants in the room. He steps over to them, frowning like he could place the blame on them for locking him in here, but his brow softens as he reads the titles. Like those don't say enough. There are plenty of books Donnie's never really cared to try reading but these specifically feel off-limits and yet he has the feeling he won't get anywhere else if he doesn't crack at least one of them open.

He sets the tablet down gently on the table, looking at those titles again before heaving a sigh. He has no right to see any of these. Given how secluded these are, he doesn't think they're going to be any light subjects. The title Betrayal just seems more condemning every time he looks at it.

"Just reiterating- not my idea to do this but it seems I'm left with no other choice. ...I'm sorry Dustin."

Donnie's hand passes over the covers, pausing over the last before moving back to the first, easing the book from the pile and after taking in a deep breath, he carefully opens the book entitled Earliest Memory.

CW: child injury

[quark_assassin]

Earliest Memory is a small book, but surprisingly dense, ratty and stained with unidentifiable dark fluids set deep into a cover that's gone velvety with age. Perhaps alarmingly, it flips open and starts to fly through the crinkly pages as soon as Donnie picks it up - and then suddenly he's somewhere else.

The child sputters as he lifts his face up and out of the puddle of blood on the ground underneath him. Dizziness and pain threaten to drop him back down, darkness creeping into the edges of his swimming vision, but something more visceral keeps him awake. His heart hammers in his chest and his breath comes in quick gasps. He's terrified.

What's he so afraid of? It's a genuine question - he can't remember. He's not sure how he got here. He's not even sure who he is, aside from the most basic sense of self-identity. Human, male (?), juvenile. Hurt. Blood continues to dribble out of his throbbing nose at a rate that he can tell isn't healthy, and his whole body feels weak and trembly. There's a sense of wrongness about the whole thing that he can't quite place.

That sense gains a very physical presence a moment later as something grips him by the backpack that he's suddenly become aware of and lifts him into the air. The child gasps, sucks in a breath to scream, but a billowing mote of black smoke flows around to cover his mouth. It's like inhaling a mouthful of water; the scream comes out as a choke while his legs kick furiously at nothing.

"Don't struggle," says a voice from directly behind him. It's deep and terse, clearly annoyed, though the child has no idea what about, nor does he particularly care. He wriggles more vigorously, trying to slip out of the arms of his backpack.

"I said--" But he's already gone, falling several feet to the ground in a painful tumble that sends shocks through his knees. He tries to stand up, stumbles, falls onto his elbows. The odd smoke is still sapping the air from his lungs somehow, keeping him from even coughing. He tries to crawl away instead. He's in some kind of alleyway, bricks and trash on either side of him, but he can see the hint of a light from around the far corner. If he could just get out into the open--

The grip that closes in around his ankle is much more firm. Roughly it drags him backwards on his already injured face and then dangles him in the air, upside-down and dazed from pain. For the first time (that he can remember), the boy lays eyes on his attacker. It's a large creature wreathed in a cloud of swirling and twitching tendrils of smoke, with only a vaguely humanoid figure buried somewhere beneath, human arms sifting through his confiscated backpack while an errant tentacle of smoke holds him aloft. Bright yellow eyes reflect that tantalizing light from around the corner in a way that makes them glow.

The child manages a strangled scream around the mist clogging his throat. Primal fear is attached to the creature in front of him, welling up deep from a place that the child can't remember, but nevertheless grips him in abject, blind terror. He starts to thrash.

"You have it," says the monster, deliberately enunciating each word. The child barely hears it speak. "Where? Where did you hide it?"

The smoke rushes out of his mouth in a plume. He takes a wheezing breath, then wails, "I-I don't know!"

"Stop lying!" The monster roughly shakes him by the leg and the child shrieks. I'm not lying, he wants to shout back, but he's incoherent from sobbing now that he has the air for it. "No more running! Tell me!"

Those yellow eyes sharpen, then the grip on the boy's ankle becomes fierce. The resulting spasms of pain amplify an already blistering headache. I don't remember, he thinks frantically; the only thing that leaves his mouth is a tortured howl.

"Why won't you just--"

Suddenly, the monster stills, and stays that way for several long, tense seconds. Does it hear something? The child tries to steady his breathing so he can listen, but the blood pounding in his ears and the persistent agony in the center of his face keep him from being able to focus on much else.

Then he's falling, landing hard on his back. The air leaves his chest in a wheeze. "We're not finished," growls the monster. "You had better hope I don't find it before you."

It sinks into the ground, the only noise it makes coming from the child's backpack thudding against the asphalt as it's left behind. Yet the terror doesn't leave him; all the child can manage for the next few minutes is to curl in on himself and cry.

The book snaps shut on its own, and when Donnie next looks up, the heavy-looking green door to the front of the shop has appeared in the wall across the room, slightly ajar.

[thepurpleone]

Oh, he does not like that. The last book that had moved on its own had swallowed him and his brothers, transporting them into a mystic library- one of those rare instances in which Donnie hadn't much minded the whole mystic factor. This however is a completely different feel, almost ominous.

It's a jarring sensation, confusing for the sudden shift, and as the memory plays out, Donnie's not sure where he is and where the boundaries of the memory he's been sucked into are. He feels like he's both watching and experiencing it himself, the general sensation not helping set any lines between them in that fear, that panic-

The sudden quiet is almost deafening as Donnie gasps, finding himself back in that little room again, trying to catch his breath. He stares almost uncomprehendingly at the door that's suddenly just there, like it had been there the whole time. Swallowing, he looks back down at the book.

What was that? That's a terrible memory to have as your earliest, and it only makes Donnie wonder. He shakes his head. He had no right to see that. Would Dustin know?

Slowly he backs himself away from the table as though concerned that another book might jump at him, subject him to more secrets he shouldn't know. He turns towards the door, still wary, but he finally reaches over to open it and hopefully finally get out of this place.