update from sparkleup
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Madison Scott-Clary
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@ -559,28 +559,79 @@ dd p:first-of-type {
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<dt>Narrator 2</dt>
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<dd>(accerlating) Up and through</dd>
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<dt>Narrator 1</dt>
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<dd>You climb.</dd>
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</dl>
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<p>\newpage</p>
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<p>\null
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\vspace{1.5in}</p>
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<dd>
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<p>You climb.</p>
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<p>Nearly vertical.</p>
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<p>\newpage</p>
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<p>\null
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\vspace{1in}</p>
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<p>And, to your relief, it grows lighter.</p>
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<p>\newpage</p>
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<p>\null
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\vspace{0.5in}</p>
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<p>You {\large\ hasten.}</p>
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<p>\newpage</p>
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<p>{\large Up}{\Large\ and}{\LARGE\ out.}</p>
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<p>\newpage</p>
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<p>\null
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\vfill</p>
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<p>\begin{flushright}
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\footnotesize
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And fall.\hspace{1cm}\null</p>
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<p>(brightly, faster now) And, to your relief, it grows lighter.</p>
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<p>You hasten.</p>
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</dd>
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<dt>Narrator 2</dt>
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<dd>(excited) Up and out!</dd>
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</dl>
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<p>YOU shout</p>
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<dl>
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<dt>Narrator 1</dt>
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<dd>And fall.</dd>
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<dt>Narrator 2</dt>
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<dd>(overlapping) And fall onto the street.</dd>
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<dt>Narrator 1</dt>
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<dd>
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<p>Looking around, you see the building housing the exhibition just behind you. You hunt for the front door. An instance of Dear putters around just past the glass doors, picking up programs and generally tidying up the place.</p>
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<p>You go to give the doors a try, but they’re locked.</p>
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<p>That’s why you looped back around, isn’t it? To confront that shitty fox once more and ask it what it meant by <em>who’s watching</em>.</p>
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</dd>
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<dt>Narrator 2</dt>
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<dd>(angrily, as though through gritted teeth) You just want to shake that–</dd>
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<dt>Narrator 1</dt>
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<dd>
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<p>You’re fuming, you realize.</p>
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<p>You sit down on the curb, indulging in a moment to relish the anger, the self-righteous feeling of bolstered confidence. Then you work on calming down.</p>
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<p>There won’t be a fox to confront, and it’s as Dear had said: this space wasn’t the exhibit, but the frame. That means you were the exhibit.</p>
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<p>Dear ignores you.</p>
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</dd>
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<dt>Narrator 2</dt>
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<dd>Your evaluation of ‘shitty fox’ is reinforced.</dd>
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<dt>Narrator 1</dt>
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<dd>
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<p>You wait.</p>
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<p>You sit after the wait grows long.</p>
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<p>You ponder visiting another bar.</p>
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<p>You lose track of time.</p>
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<p>Eventually, you hear voices from the side of the building. Familiar voices. Your friends. Yourself. Still dirty from the cave, you despair.</p>
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<p>(pause) So you quit.</p>
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</dd>
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<dt>Narrator 2</dt>
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<dd>But, ah, there was more than one choice made that night, wasn’t there? You forked again, didn’t you? You, rascal that you are, followed that fennec, but you also did not.</dd>
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<dt>Narrator 1</dt>
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<dd>
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<p>The fennec skitters off toward the explosion, toward the shared wall between the split rooms, and you have already sent a version of you after it. You want to follow, but you also don’t want to deal with explosions.</p>
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<p>Neither does anyone else, apparently, as the tight quarters in the room quickly leads to a crush and stampede toward the door that Dear has opened.</p>
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<p>Into which you are forced.</p>
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<p>The crush is far more intense than expected, as you find both halves of the audience rejoined and dumped back into a dark and already crowded room.</p>
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<p>Already crowded with several instances.</p>
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</dd>
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</dl>
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<p>DEAR growls, the audience panics</p>
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<dl>
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<dt>Narrator 1</dt>
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<dd>
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<p>Dear has forked itself several times and each of those instances are forking again, until there’s easily twice as many Dears as there are audience members.</p>
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<p>The noise doubles and then doubles again as the instances start charging at and pinning audience members against each other and the walls, herding and shouting, all with bloodshot eyes, bared fangs, inhuman snarls.</p>
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</dd>
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<dt>Narrator 2</dt>
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<dd>It’s loud and dark and panicky.</dd>
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<dt>Narrator 1</dt>
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<dd>
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<p>Some try forking. And the new instances are ganged up upon, charged at with double the intensity as the parent instances. There is another you, another fork, eyes filled with fury as it struggles against the fox.</p>
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<p>You realize that these instances of Dear are not actually attacking to harm the audience. There are no syringes, no coercion to quit. Just exercising, violently, the collision detection algorithms in the room, which are still set safe.</p>
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<p>The intensity within this room is overwhelming, and you find yourself shrinking toward the walls, if only to escape from the noise and motion on one side.</p>
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<p>A few others seem to have the same idea, shifting their ways toward the walls of the room. They’re met with little resistance.</p>
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<p>In fact, the instances of Dear seem to be encouraging it, growling and barking and yelling as they herd the audience to the outsides of the room.</p>
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<p>You make it to the wall with relatively little trouble, only to be jabbed in the back with a doorknob.</p>
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<p>Keeping an eye on the action and the aggressive instances of the artist, you slip a hand back behind you to turn the knob.</p>
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</dd>
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</dl>
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<p>A door opening.</p>
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</article>
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<footer>
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<p>Page generated on 2021-11-17</p>
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