ever since you’ve been my ace of hearts -

[uprisenheart]

WHO: Open to all Dualizens
WHAT: A heart-to-heart with the Heart
WHERE: A run-down warehouse on the outskirts of town.
WHEN: Sept. 21-22
WARNINGS: Please use these in comment subject lines if applicable!



Random text messages happen sometimes, though maybe not as often in Dualis as where you’re from. But there’s one today, and this one comes to your inbox from the number 432-78, which is definitely not a standard phone number. If you open it, there’s an image file, one you likely recognize - an anatomical heart. You’ll need to zoom in on the image a bit, because there’s a short message written along one of the veins, and it’s very small: LET’S TALK.

Below the image is a shortlink, and if you click it, you’ll be taken to a page that is blank except for one of those “Prove you’re not a robot!” messages with a box to check. Once checked, a series of six images appears - five are cartoon hearts, and the sixth is the same anatomical heart illustration that led you to this page. The instructions to pass through this virtual gate are to “Click on the Heart,” and choosing any image except the anatomical illustration redirects to an error message that bricks your phone until you perform a hard reboot.

Choosing the correct image takes you to a page of strange clusters of colored dots. If you look closely (and aren’t color blind), you’ll be able to read the real message: TOMORROW, AT SUNSET and a set of coordinates. A blinking banner scrolls along the top of the page and warns THIS MESSAGE WILL SELF-DESTRUCT IN 10 MINUTES, and the 10 counts down after one minute to 9, then 8, and so on. It’s probably a good idea to write this information down somewhere else!

The inbox message also deletes itself 10 minutes after it’s been opened. All unopened messages are auto-erased 12 hours after the original sent timestamp.

If you happen to be interested in following this rabbit down the rabbit hole, plug in those coordinates on your phone’s Dualis GPS app, and you’ll be directed to a run-down, empty warehouse on the outskirts of town. Be sure to take the time estimate to get there into consideration!

The warehouse is mostly dark inside, lit only by sparse flickering overhead lights; it’s dusty, empty except for the people gathered. When the sunlight outside has all but disappeared behind the horizon, a burst of loud electrical humming echoes through the warehouse, and the lights shut off. All electronic devices inside the perimeter of the warehouse have also been disabled, albeit temporarily.

Comments

[merged]

"Yeah, because bombings just scream polite, huh?"

A touch pointed, a lot sarcastic. The bombing had been dizzying, horrifying in a way she'd never experienced before, and it would be hypocritical of her to judge them too harshly for it all things considered. Still, it left its mark on her, and she has no more trust for them than she does the Head.

But she's willing to listen. She's also willing to tell them to fuck off.

"I think most of us here are fully aware the Head is full of bullshit, how do we know you're not, too?" This one is less demanding, still barbed with mistrust, but curious enough.

She wants proof. Anything.

[uprisenheart]

"The bombings were a call for all of you to wake up," she counters, sternly, then once again addresses the crowd. "How many of you have become comfortable since you were brought here? How many of you have come to believe this place is better than where you were taken from? You have been given basic necessities, you've been given luxuries. You've been given illusions - lies, all of it!" And her gaze swings back to Heather: "We are trying to save your lives - not by taking you against your will for our own purposes" - like the Head " - but with direct action. Is that bullshit to you?"

[merged]

Heather refrains from rolling her eyes at the rhetorical questions but gives in at the save your lives statement. To her, that sounds like bullshit and it makes her feel a lot like a cat who's been petted the wrong way,"You got any proof?"

[uprisenheart]

The woman frowns at her, like this conversation is surprisingly difficult and not an obstacle she expected to see. "What kind of proof do you require? Do you really think with the amount of surveillance and censorship throughout this city that we would be able to find documentation of this threat?"

[merged]

"Do you expect people to just jump on board with your secret society with nothing?" She tilts her head in a genuine confused curiosity, a touch disappointed. Heather knows the Head is Not Good (just the reason she was brought here is proof enough of that) but that doesn't automatically make those against it any better. Maybe that's a river she should ford when she gets to it. Chances are, they might be her best option right now.

"How about this? How'd you guys learn some of this shit? What happened to..." She considers her words and goes with their own, licking her lips,"wake you up?"

As difficult as she's being, if she wasn't interested, she'd have left already.

[zwischenzugs]

“Some of us decided to do something instead of simply sitting around and complaining,” another voice answers, coolly. That voice belongs to a young blond man seated at the edge of the platform, next to the woman acting as ringleader. “Summoning a shred of initiative isn’t hard. Digging around takes some skill, but the more important thing is to do so carefully, cover your tracks. If you’ve got eyes and at least a couple of brain cells, you can tell that there’s something wrong with this place.”

Or, you know - if you’re paranoid. Maybe both.

[merged]

"Shit, Sherlock, you really broke it down for us, too bad dumbfucks are the majority," she adds in a single clap of pity as she moves closer to the platform, her steel eyes taking in every little thing about all of them (she can already see how she'd draw the face of the original woman's face and now certainly his),"I can't see why I wouldn't want jump into a cult without a little bit more than information. Just because you don't fucking like them doesn't suddenly make you the best option here."

The best option is the one that takes her home—though she fears that's out the window now. Right now, though, it's starting to feel like an either or option.

"What all do you know about them? I know they're untrustworty; I need to make sure you are."

[zwischenzugs]

He pinches the bridge of his nose, like just listening to her is causing a painful headache to manifest. "We're not a cult, you imbecile," he says, and shakes his head, a nonverbal signal to pair with his words that he thinks she is deeply stupid. "And what we know about them is more than we have time to stand here and recite for you. We want to stop them - what other proof do you need?"

Trust is not a word he throws around easily or even believes in, most of the time, except as a matter of degrees. But even he hadn't thrown up this much resistance.

[merged]

He seems annoyed and her upper lip twitches up in something of a soft sneer; he thinks she's stupid, she can tell. They got the information—the fucking prooof—that would take to get a swath of new people on their side and he doesn't want to bother reciting it because it would take too much time.

This is clearly some damn farce. She doesn't see talking, she sees people trying to get answers and getting nothing useful, other than the fact that it's all worse than she'd thought.

"Have you seen your fucking get ups, asshole?" Sharper again. She feels like a damn fool to have any hope for this at all,"You all look like a Party City cult—one that seems to want people to jump up and join without proof, just saying how you'll save us."

"Which, for the record, definitely hits on that cult shit."

[zwischenzugs]

"Fine, whatever, we're a cult," he says, flatly, with a dismissive shrug. "A cult of people who don't want to die here. What nefarious schemes must we be working to make that happen?" He scoffs loudly. "Do you even listen to yourself? Or anyone else, for that matter - you didn't answer my question, just screeched about how we must be a cult because we're all dressed in black. What proof do you need?"