Chris Miller

This is the south end of the ballroom, at the bar.

Elsewhere in this large ballroom, there are scores of other party guests dressed in all sorts of outlandish costumes. On the dance floor are some of the older dancers. The band is playing “Breathless.” On the periphery of the room small groups can be seen, discussing everything from politics to local scandals.

The bartender is busy behind the bar, his only concession to the party a small domino mask. Samuel Ostmann, enjoying himself hugely as a vampire, is here.

A sheik, whom you can recognize as Michael Wellman, and a fairy queen, presumably Veronica Ashcroft under her ornate mask, are discussing something with a small group of guests near the fireplace. The sheik notices you and waves for you to join them.

You wake up. The room is spinning very gently round your head. Or at least it would be if you could see it which you can’t.

It is pitch black.

You are standing at the foot of the driveway, the entrance to the Linder property. The entire lot is screened from the street and the neighbors by a wooden fence, except on the east side, which fronts on dense bamboo woods. The house looks like a mixture of a California bungalow and East Asian influences. From here you can see the driveway leading north and, beyond that, the front door.

You are in your tent. Golden rays of the sun filter through the open tent flaps on the southern wall, but no breeze makes its way through. The dry, searing heat in the tent would be bearable if only the air stirred, even a little.

At the foot of the cot is a large, unwieldy trunk. The trunk is closed and locked with a padlock.

This is a featureless corridor similar to every other corridor on the ship. It curves away to starboard, and a gangway leads up. To port is the entrance to one of the ship’s primary escape pods. The pod bulkhead is closed.

This is a large room crammed with computer terminals, small computers, and printers. An exit leads south. Banners, posters, and signs festoon the walls. Most of the tables are covered with waste paper, old pizza boxes, and empty Coke cans. There are usually a lot of people here, but tonight it’s almost deserted.

A really whiz-bang pc is right inside the door.

Nearby is one of those ugly molded plastic chairs.

Sitting at a terminal is a hacker whom you recognize.

Dusk has fallen as you pull up in front of Tresyllian Castle. A ghostly full moon is rising, and a tall iron gate between two pillars bars the way into the courtyard.

A tide of perambulators surges north along the crowded Broad Walk. Shaded glades stretch away to the northeast, and a hint of color marks the western edge of the Flower Walk. #infocomart #midjourney

Bonus post: Get Lamp #infocomart #midjourney

You stand at a point of decision on a road which makes a wide fork to the northeast and southeast, circling the base of the Lonely Mountain, which looms high overhead to the east. A very long and winding road starts here and stretches out of sight to the west through low, smoky hills. The sun is rising over the lands to the east. #infocomart #midjourney

You are on a wide lawn just north of the entrance to the Robner estate. Directly north at the end of a pebbled path is the Robner house, flanked to the northeast and northwest by a vast expanse of well-kept lawn. Beyond the house can be seen the lakefront. #infocomaty #midjourney

This nook is your spartan living quarters, containing only a bunk and a bureau. The only exit is to starboard. There is a tape library here. #infocomart #midjourney

Joe’s Bar: An undistinguished bar, yet the social center of Upper Sandusky. The front door is almost lost amidst the hazy maze of neon that shrouds the grimy glass of the south wall. Doors marked “Ladies” and “Gents” lead, respectively, northeast and northwest. #infocomart #midjourney

You are standing in an open field west of a white house, with a boarded front door. There is a small mailbox here. #infocomart #midjourney