You're seated upon a plush bench seat, hand pressed to the glass of the capsule roaring downward towards a planet that stretches beyond the horizon. ] The memory is cloaked in a web of blackened synapses, lying at the very edge of the abyss that you recognize as your short term memory, but fragments do come through. (Set: $debt to 0) (Set: $Wardrobe to false)(set: $Slave to false)(set: $Blue to false)(set: $Smoke to false)(set: $Sec to false)(set: $Brand to false)(set: $IsSlave to false)(set: $Nun to false)(set: $showcredits to false)(set: $showgear to false)(set: $showstatus to false)(set: $LevelFix to false)(set: $DaemonEnd to false)(set: $PrisonerEnd to false)(set: $Servant to false)(set: $Status to 0)(set: $Ending to 0)(set: $debtShower to false)(set: $SaveName to "None")(set: $GoldCheat to false)(set: $Inv to (a:))(set: $Gear to 0) Most readily? ''Pain.'' A headache that could snap the ferrotitanium guide line of the Way Up. Craving for understanding is natural, but other symptoms tag along. Each revolution of the mind brings just a //bit// more to your senses. Reality bends to your will: ] Consciousness comes slowly, an interstellar drag engine spooling up after far too long unfired. Torei, consumed by pleasure and its attendant dangers, does indeed await. *Time drifts by with each passing stack cloud.
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