I believe that I am in Hell,

While you're here, please try to conduct yourself appropriately. If something is illegal in your world, it's likely frowned upon in the City; don't do it.

The police are still here and working in spite of the recent revolution. We can be contacted via the network in the event of an emergency.

[Now that business is out of the way:]

I'll be checking my messages all weekend, if there's anyone I know here.


[COMMENTS]

[A very wet hand grabs the recording device. After a moment of darkness, the device is set down (with absolutely no gentleness whatsoever) on the edge of the fountain. From off screen:]

I'm not surprised you're here.

[After a few moments full of drippy noises--the sounds of someone wringing his shirt and hair out, maybe--the device is retrieved and turned to show a wet and unamused Justin.]

It hasn't been a year, has it?


[COMMENTS]

[Justin isn't a fan of talking out loud when typing will do, but this is video for a reason. That reason is a thin orange tabby who is curled up quite happily in Justin's lap, sound asleep and purring.

Does this cat belong to anyone? I hu--I... I mean, I found her. On my way home from work. Please message me if she's yours.

[The video feed ends, but Justin keeps talking in a rather melancholy monotone.]

This curse--many of the curses--are harmless, but no one in the City should become too... compliant. It's tempting to become accustomed to curses, to--to death. In a place where death is seldom more than a temporary and upsetting setback, we shouldn't be careless. We shouldn't assume that, if we die, we'll come back.

Not everyone comes back, not every time. Death can be permanent, even here. Some of you know that--maybe you've heard, or maybe you've been here long enough to see someone die and not return--but if you don't, keep it in mind. Be careful. Don't take unnecessary risks during curses or... or take the life that you have for granted. Even if you're dead within the City, you still have this existence; don't treat it lightly.

[There's a breath as if he's getting ready to say something else, but he evidently thinks better of it and ends the feed.]

( [Filtered to Police / Unhackable] )

( [Private / Unhackable] )

[COMMENTS]

[Justin, unaffected by the cold induced by sitting near the fountain that the City had seen fit to drop him into during winter, finally tires of waiting for what he’s convinced what must be a trick of the mind to dissipate and resolve itself into the nothingness of death. For a lack of any other distractions, he fumbles with the device he had found in his pocket earlier.

He doesn’t fully understand why he would bother hallucinating what resembles a camcorder. The brain is truly a strange and unfathomable thing.]

Am I dead yet?

[It’s a ridiculous question. He still exists enough to imagine things; the answer is clearly no.]

If not--if not, I hope this doesn't last long.