A metal payphone under a yellow plastic dome. There's a bitter, caustic taste on the tip…

"Yes, I'm in Mirova. Sleeping."

"Do you want to party?"

"No, I want to go to sleep..."

"Where are you going in two hours?"

"To work."

Say nothing.

No response, only a sigh. The connection crackles, like burning paper.

What are you doing to yourself right now?

I'm making a funny prank call.

Fun? You need to stop. Harry. You're killing yourself.

I don't know... I don't understand what's happening.

You need to stop. Harry. You're killing yourself.

Catastrophic damage.

You need to stop, Harry. You'll die.

"Where?"

"The Academy. Where I work."

"The Academy? That sounds better than my job. I'm happy."

"My job is sad and terrible. It has dead bodies in it."

"Pfft, Academy... my job is real."

"Hey."

Say nothing.

"I'm not drunk -- I'm high."

"I'm not drunk or high, I'm just... hurt... why does it hurt to talk to you?"

"Okay I'm drunk, what does it matter? I'm still me!"

"Harry? How do you know my name?"

"Because it's me... Look, I don't understand what you're saying or why you're calling me. You seem drunk."

"I'm gonna get even drunker." (Take a big sip.)

"Harry? Who's Harry -- are you sleeping with him? I'm also Harry!"

"I don't understand what you're saying."

"Harry? Who's Harry?"

She sighs. "Look, I don't understand what you're saying, or why you're calling me. You seem drunk."

"Harry? Who's Harry -- are you sleeping with him? Is Harry there?!"

"Good bye."

A sigh. She heard you, but she does not hang up. And neither do you. You can't.

That's it. You're caught in a trap. It'll take quite a while for the shit-circus to end now.

"I am an ultra-high-net-worth individual. I understand how reality works. I have seen into it. My mind is clear." (Proceed.)

"You're not a high-net-worth individual, Harry... You're drunk."

"Who is this?"

"Dora." She's still confused. "Who is this? The connection is bad..."

Dora. The name feels like a gift. A gift that was meant for you -- to make it possible to live.

And fight.

In the distorted distance you hear someone turning next to her. Bedsprings rattle.

Don't react. Whatever you do, don't react to that last thing.

"Is someone there?"

No answer. You're not sure but you think you hear a man's voice in the background. It's covered in pain and white noise...

Don't react.

It doesn't matter if you react or not. You still think you hear a man's voice in the background. It's covered in pain and white noise...

"I don't know who I am. I am an amnesiac." (Proceed.)

"You're not an amnesiac, Harry... You're drunk."

"I'm a revolutionary servant of humanity. I will free mankind and abolish the classes. I will raise the dead." (Proceed.)

"You're not a revolutionary, Harry... You're drunk."

"I want to die."

"What?" It takes a second for her to realize what you said.

"I don't know why I said that."

"Oh no... is that you?" Her voice sounds like she's waking up now. Still plaintive, tired...

This is too much... You need to recede...

"A creature is a creature. I wish I was the wind."

"Oh no, not this... what time is it?"

"No."

Silence. The connection falters. You hear her last words repeated back to you in an echo: