Conversation · Insulindian Phasmid
Speakers · 30
Insulindian Phasmid
You
Cuno
Physical Instrument
Encyclopedia
Pain Threshold
Volition
Inland Empire
Esprit de Corps
Authority
Kim Kitsuragi
Conceptualization
Logic
Half Light
Reaction Speed
Shivers
Interfacing- Perception (Taste)
Visual Calculus
Empathy
Suggestion
Electrochemistry- Perception (Smell)
- Perception (Sight)
Rhetoric
The Deserter- Perception (Hearing)
Endurance
Composure
Savoir Faire
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"The Insulindian phasmid," he says with his voice lowered in awe.
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"Wait -- Insulindian Phasmid? How do you know this?"
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Cuno can't believe how bad he is, without a camera -- in this situation the binoclard would be superior in every way.
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Meanwhile, in the antechamber of the Station 57 lazareth, a neatly packed pair of cargo pants and an orange bomber jacket sit in a locker. Nested on the jacket -- a small block of milled aluminium, tucked away in a leather case.
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- Meanwhile, in the antechamber of the Station 57 lazareth, a neatly packed pair of cargo pants and an orange bomber jacket sit in a locker. Nested on the jacket -- a small block of milled aluminium, tucked away in a leather case.
- Meanwhile, in the antechamber of the Station 57 lazareth, a neatly packed pair of cargo pants and a black bomber jacket sit in a locker. Nested on the jacket -- a small block of milled aluminium, tucked away in a leather case.
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An instant camera -- the Trigat Sunshine Mini. A moan of discomfort sounds from the lazareth, as he turns onto his side...
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Back on an island 28 kilometres away, the gigantic insect moves its antennae, taking its measure of the air, slowly... it's searching for something -- you.
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- Back on an island 28 kilometres away, the gigantic insect moves its antennae, taking its measure of the air, slowly... it's searching for something -- you.
- He not as much as glances at the gigantic insect to his right -- nor does it look at him. Its antennae take their measure of the air, slowly... searching for something -- you.
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A camera -- an instant colour camera the lieutenant keeps tucked away in his coat pocket. A moan of discomfort sounds from the lazareth, as he turns onto his side...
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He not as much as glances at the gigantic insect to his right -- nor does it look at him. Its antennae take their measure of the air, slowly... searching for something -- you.
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Cuno can't believe how lame he is -- without the camera right now. Should have stolen one, a real cop would have one...
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No one hears you whisper. Behind you, the straggler sits despondently by the fire, oblivious to his surroundings.
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Meanwhile, in the antechamber of the Station 57 lazareth, a neatly packed pair of cargo pants and a black bomber jacket sit in a locker. Nested on the jacket -- a small block of milled aluminium, tucked away in a leather case.
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"We can't just leave it standing there. We have to do something, detective. It could be..." He thinks. "It could be connected somehow even..."
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The ghost insect watches you disengage, continuing its hypnotizing motion. It's unclear whether it even registers that you're going...
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(Say something to it, quietly... something like...)
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A sudden chirrup fills the air -- the walking stick moves its whole body, limbs working independently of each other, like the parts of a masterfully constructed machine.
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The creature tilts its tiny head to the side and appears to look at you. It is incredibly light, like the slightest gust of wind should blow it away, but it doesn't...
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There is a sadness in there -- or is it in you, from the dream... It's still with you, the pitiful hey you told her, even now...
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Nothing changes in the cyclical, praying motion of the creature's limbs. They are porcelain white on the inside, and reed-coloured on the out -- beige, light brown and striped. You are unsure if it is scared or not.
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"I have absolutely no idea..." The lieutenant whispers back. You hear the familiar ring of his jacket unzipping -- slowly. Painstakingly so...
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The creature stands on long stilt-like legs, antennae hanging from its head like a woman's hair -- white and curled at the tips. It is no more than five steps away from you.
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Take long, deep breaths. Slow down your pulse. Don't move yet, and when you do -- be light as a feather.
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Reed-like tufts stick out of its joints. As the insect moves its forearms it produces a faint hiss -- like a reel-to-reel machine spinning after the tape breaks.
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The hiss is different from the strings you heard before. It says something else, in a lower pitch...
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The segmented antennae move with apprehension, searching for something that's not there...
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