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Published: Feb. 7, 2022, 1:21 p.m.

Wren has a chat and descends into the dark. Liz gathers allies for a revolt. Major thanks to the MVPs of this episode: Rae Lundberg as Shadow, Jess Syratt as Liz, and Nathan from the Storage Papers as the Director.

(CWs, mild spoilers: fire, death, body horror, distorted voices and faces, static, dripping noises)

Transcripts available at somewhereohio.com

Apologies for the delay!

TRANSCRIPT:

*Fizzling Boss tones*

*boss tones coagulate into a voice*

BOSS: \u201cBecause I needed you alive long enough for us to talk.\u201d

WREN, barely conscious: \u201cwh-what? Where\u2026\u201d

WREN: Drops of frigid water pelted my forehead, stirring me from the astral plane. Above me was a whitewashed ceiling, stone walls curving in a circle like a shackle. I wasn\u2019t restrained, however. I sat upright on crossed legs. Someone had been speaking just then, right?

WREN: \u201cIs someone there?\u201d

BOSS: \u201cAh, good, you are awake. I was a tad worried the furball out there hit you too hard.\u201d

The curdled voice had to be coming from\u2026somewhere, but it felt like it was all around me, under me, seeping into my hair and nails. The impact of the sheer cold of this place finally hit me as my head stopped spinning. I sat hunched for a moment before responding.

WREN: \u201cBoss? I-is that you? How did you\u2013\u201d

BOSS: \u201cI live in the wires, creep through static, remember? And your friend out there is about 50% wires, give or take. It\u2019ll be fine once its circuits or whatever they have reboot. But that thing isn\u2019t what I\u2019m interested in. I brought you here to talk. So let\u2019s hop to it.\u201d

WREN: \u201cWhat do you want me to say? I\u2019m sorry for leaving? For trying to help you?\u201d

BOSS: \u201cLucy. I want to talk about Lucy. See, Ever since our phone call, I\u2019ve been\u2026unsettled. Now that I\u2019ve always been the boss, I have near unlimited knowledge of the DLO, of the things around me, but still no sign of Lucy. That bothers me.\u201d

I warily stood up and looked around the frozen lighthouse. Long icicles hung from the ceiling\u2013floor? whichever--dripping and freezing once more on the ground. The whole interior was covered in a thin icy sheen. No sign of Conw\u2013er, the boss. I needed to find where this voice was coming from, but I needed time. I\u2019d have to string him along for a bit and hope his confidence would play against him.

WREN: \u201cOkay, then. Let\u2019s talk Lucy. But first, there are some things I want to know. I\u2019ve heard about some sort of machine salvaged from the lakebed. What is it?\u201d

BOSS: \u201cMight as well indulge the little worker bees in a bit of honey while they can still taste it. Very well, Wren.\u201d

As he spoke, I snuck around the perimeter of the dark tower, listening for any changes in directional sound.\xa0

BOSS: \u201cThat machine is what made this place, made me real. It shepherded a new era for this state. Sure a few people lost a job or two, a few houses demolished, a few forests burned down, but it made way for industry, for growth. For potential. You shouldn\u2019t blame this engine for your troubles: it\u2019s people that run it. Without us, it\u2019s just a hunk of junk. But with our hand on the till, we can remake the world. You\u2019re stuck in the old ways, Wren. You\u2019re a dinosaur, flailing in the tar, and I am the good god above, shaking my head.\xa0

Yes, this little engine can be dangerous, if you can\u2019t handle the power. Kenji couldn\u2019t. Look what happened to him. I could handle it, and here we are.

Speaking of power, don\u2019t think I don\u2019t know about the little coup attempt you\u2019re plotting with some of my\u2026former associates. It won\u2019t work. As soon as we\u2019re done here, I\u2019m crushing your little salt and feeding her to the engine. Then it\u2019s back to business.\u201d

I should have known he\u2019d know. But just because he knew what was happening didn\u2019t mean he could stop it. If all went well on Liz\u2019s side, it would be many hundreds against one. Those are decent odds in my ledger. I just needed a bit more time.

WREN: \u201cSo this \u2018lucid engine\u2019 really runs on human misery. It carved its way across the midwest, burning through the souls of workers, flattening towns, setting forests ablaze, bringing nightmares to life. But it\u2019s our touch that makes it glow, our will that drives its whips and chains. Is that right? A conduit for economic malice?\xa0

You know you weren\u2019t always like this. I\u2019ve heard your earlier memos. You were kind, artistic, even funny sometimes, I must grudgingly admit. I trusted you.\xa0

I want to believe that person is still in you somewhere, trapped among the paperwork and oil. If it is, I intend to find that person, and bring them back. If it is not, I don\u2019t intend to show any mercy.\u201d

BOSS: \u201cYou sure say a whole hell of a lot and say a whole lot of nothing, huh little bee?\u201d

I found no hints to the direction of his voice, but I did discover a narrow staircase winding down to the top of the lighthouse.\xa0

BOSS: \u201cI believe it\u2019s your turn now, Wren. Where is Lucy?\u201d

WREN: \u201cI\u2019ll be honest with you: I don\u2019t know. I encountered her at a waffle house at the end of the world. But she didn\u2019t talk to me.\u201d

BOSS: \u201cWell\u2026no, that can\u2019t be right. I was\u2026No. No. NO. You\u2019re not going to play with my mind like he did. Said I wasn\u2019t real. You\u2019re talking to me right now! Real as real gets.\u201d

WREN: \u201cYou sound unfocused, boss. Tell me this: what\u2019s your full name? How old are you? I\u2019m Wren Crawford, nonbinary claims adjuster born November 1st, 1998 in Illinois. My favorite color is silver, I love driving at night with the windows down, and I hate pineapple.

How about you? No easy answer? You think much too literally, Boss. Of course, \u2018real\u2019 can mean extant, physically in the world. But it has many other meanings, too. Genuine, authentic. You may be here, but you\u2019re not authentic. You are a fiction.\u201d

I had inched my way to the stairs as I spoke. Before I could take the first step, he noticed where I was headed.\xa0

BOSS: \u201cWhoa, whoa whoa, hold on now, hoss. Sorry to disappoint you, but what you\u2019re looking for ain\u2019t down there. That\u2019s just the DLO\u2019s vault. All you\u2019re gonna find there are dusty old letters.

You\u2019ve shown a lot of grit to even get here, Wren, a good deal of stick-to-it-iveness. You\u2019re bright, hardworking, got a keen eye. You shouldn\u2019t waste your life scrounging around in the dark. I\u2019m a compassionate leader, I recognize potential when I see it. So to make your trip worthwhile, I\u2019ve got an offer for you.

I could use someone else under my wing. A right hand, so to speak. Someone to watch over the warehouses and offices while I\u2019m away on executive duties. You would have your own office\u2013with a window!--your own assistants, access to all the documents you could want. You could escape the life of the worker bee. You could be the Supervisor, Wren. A damn good one. Wealthy, to boot.\u201d

WREN: \u201cIn my time, I\u2019ve come to find that wealth acts like a poison. The more concentrated it is in one host, the more dangerous it becomes. But dilute it among many and it\u2019s harmless, or as with a serpent\u2019s venom, a vital part of its own antivenom. It should be the sweet fruits picked from trees we planted ourselves. I don\u2019t want your poison apples.\u201d

I stood at the precipice of a yawning mouth to hell. One more step and I could never go back.\xa0

WREN: \u201cSorry, Boss, I\u2019m no insect. I am a hawk.\u201d

My foot hit the metal stair, and the world above went dark.\xa0

***

LIZ: \u201cSuuure, just round up some shadows and commit arson, Liz. This is a perfectly normal thing people say all the time, Liz. Well, no time like the present, I guess.

Hey, uhhh, you at the desk! What\u2019s your name?

*Harsh buzzing and static emanate from the shadow*

LIZ: \u201cAll right, forget you then. Stapler dude, with the cool glasses. My guy, what are you up to?\u201d\xa0

*more unwelcoming noise*

LIZ: \u201cThis isn\u2019t working. How was that other shadow able to talk to me?\u201d

SHADOW: \u201cI\u2019m not sure, how can you talk? You\u2019re a shadow, too.\u201d

LIZ: \u201cChrist, you\u2019re still here?\u201d\xa0

SHADOW, gently: \u201cYou needed someone to talk to.\u201d

LIZ: *pause, sigh* \u201cSorry, I didn\u2019t mean that to sound so\u2026\u201d

SHADOW: \u201cHostile?\u201d

LIZ: \u201cRight. There\u2019s just a lot going on right now. I keep thinking I\u2019ll see her here somewhere. I can almost feel her nearby. But then I turn around and it\u2019s all gone, just a puff of smoke, sifting through my fingers like sand.\xa0

I just want to be back at our apartment, building a little house in the sims together. Pretending that someday WE could own a house. I need to find her before we get out of here. IF we get out of here.\u201d

SHADOW: \u201cAnd I need to make sure that thing in the middle is taken down.\u201d

LIZ: \u201cWell we\u2019ve both got something to do then. I wonder\u2026Do you think that having purpose makes here us\u2026tangible?

SHADOW: \u201cMakes about as much sense as anything else that\u2019s happened to me in the last 24 hours.\u201d

LIZ: \u201cEver read any Sartre?\u201d

SHADOW: \u201cNo.\u201d

LIZ: \u201cMe neither. But if his stuff\u2019s anything like Groundhog Day, it\u2019s about how we\u2019re defined by what we do, not who we are. Making the choice to continue in the mouth of the void. We have goals, those goals give us meaning, that meaning gives us solidarity. Err, solidity.

SHADOW: \u201cThen all we have to do is remind these people there\u2019s more to the world than this office. Give them something else to live for.\u201d

LIZ, speaking to the room: \u201cAll right, listen up, folks. You\u2019ve been working, what, Eight? Nine hundred hours? With no break? Do you even know what you\u2019re doing, or why you\u2019re doing it?

Look at me, I\u2019m not glued to a desk, grumbling and sneering at everyone trying to be nice to me. I\u2019m free! No boss to tell me what to do. Come on, you can\u2019t tell me you actually like your boss. What\u2019s more American than hating your boss? You in front, yeah I know you think he\u2019s a real pissbaby.\u201d\xa0

SHADOW, whispering: \u201cI hope you know where this is going, because we\u2019ve got a lot of eyes on us.\u201d

LIZ: \u201cGood! I want them to see. There\u2019s got to be some part of you that knows this office is busted, this state is busted. Hell, this whole damn system\u2019s gone busto. You\u2019re all toiling away down here in the dark for someone that doesn\u2019t even know your name. Not to mention the giant column of flesh. That has to be an OSHA violation. And these folders on the floor\u2013serious fire hazard. Do you even get sick leave?\u201d\xa0

SHADOW: \u201cMore are listening. Keep going!\u201d

LIZ: \u201cAre we not meant to be free? To see the sun with our own eyes? To be entitled to the spoils of our own labor?\xa0

Have you all become ants, mindless cogs to be spun, or does some sliver of you yet remain human? Can none of you work up the courage to hold on to that sliver of humanity?

Lay down your tools and come with me. Then you\u2019ll find your answer.\xa0

Maybe you can go home again. Maybe we\u2019ll meet on the other side. And maybe, just maybe, you\u2019ll get to kick the guy who did all this in the teeth.

Shadows of the cave unite, you have nothing to lose but your chain letters!\u201d

***

WREN: \u201cWow, did you really come up with all that on the spot?\u201d

LIZ: \u201cI may have been taking some poetic license with what happened near the end, but you get the gist.\u201d

WREN: \u201cOkay\u2026then what happened?\u201d

***

LIZ: Many of the shadows dropped their papers and stamps, littering the floor with office trash, and stood on desks with me. Some shades remained hard at work. They buried their faces in their books. I don\u2019t think those shadows wanted to be helped. I think they were happy being pawns in the DLO\u2019s game. I only hope they\u2019ll find peace some day.

I hopped down from the desk to be among the shadows. We gathered on one side of the massive file cabinet and started pushing. It didn\u2019t budge much at first, seeing as it was about 60 feet high. The tower of tissue noticed what we were doing, and sent some dark matter assassins our way. But more and more shades joined our cause, and the wall of drawers started to tip under our collective strength. It fell toward the tower in the center of the room. An enormous tongue shot out from the tower, halting the fall of the cabinets. I shouted for any stragglers to join up with us before it was too late. Then we did what you said to do.

The friendly shadow I\u2019d been talking to found a small space heater at one of the abandoned desks. She set it down next to the base of the giant leaning cabinet and switched the heater on. I opened a few of the lower drawers, which spilled their contents onto the floor beside the heater. A big pile of dry paper plus an unsupervised space heater\u2026You can imagine what happened next. And you can imagine the smell, too, as the paper and flesh were licked by the flames.\xa0

We stood in front of the burning tower for just a minute, outlined in the dark by a ring of righteous flame.

And then with our shadowy friends, we left the way we came.

Which is to say: through a series of unexpected and inexplicable moves and feelings that I can\u2019t recall. And then we were in the cold.

***

WREN: I prowled down deep into the guts of the wretched lighthouse. Each footfall was imbued with growing dread. I descended into the darkness for some time, passing a grim scullery and fetid living quarters, until a dim light and faint roar made their presence known. As I continued, the light and sound grew stronger, and then came the smell: scorched oil and exhaust. Illusory hellfire overwhelmed my senses until at last my boots made contact with the lighthouse floor.

The circular room was small, only just wide enough for a small walkway around the lamp in the center. There was a door across the way, so I started to work my way around the lens. But I quickly realized that in the center of this lighthouse was not a light. Instead, there was a horrific chunk of alien steel, like quicksilver in one corner and immovable iron cubes in another. It had pipes running up and down its sides, spouting haze into the tiny chamber. This is what had been making the dizzying light and sound.

I felt a pit open in my stomach at the moment of recognition. I was terrified and thrilled in equal measure. I, much like Conway, had been unwittingly trailing this engine. This room felt more like a shrine than a beacon, a place of worship for a dead metal messiah. White fire burbled into the air, and the rattling hum of the engine grew as I approached. I was drawn to run my fingers along its cool surface, but I restrained myself, and recalled what had happened to the others who came in contact with the engine.

I knew not where it came from and probably never would, so I looked at rather teleologically. I whispered to myself: \u201cWhat does this thing DO? What is its purpose?\u201d

And I received an unexpected answer.\xa0

BOSS: \u201cIt can make your dreams come to life.\u201d

I crept around the edge of the machine to confirm my horrible suspicion. This is indeed where his voice had been coming from, but not in the way I expected.

On the other side of this nightmare device was a face\u2013Conway\u2019s face\u2013stretched across its surface beyond the point of possibility. It spanned maybe three feet across, skin and metal fused and tangled, a simulacrum of a sick rubber mask pulled taut. The large eyes were dull and hazy, roving aimlessly. The distended mouth hung open, through which I could see the burning fire within.\xa0

\xa0

My autonomic nervous system kicked in, and unfortunately my fight and flight instincts often exert equal and opposite force, leaving me frozen in place. I couldn\u2019t move, and could barely make a noise.

WREN: \u201cC-conway\u2026is that?\u201d I whispered through my pale lips.

The cloudy eyes rolled without clear direction, angrily searching for the source of my voice. The engine rumbled and spit embers, and then the mouth of the Conway mask moved slowly, with some effort.

BOSS, stuttering and glitching: \u201cPlease, call me Boss. I\u2019m your superior after all. Unless you\u2019re quitting now.\u201d

WREN: \u201cI already\u2026quit. Boss, you\u2026you\u2019re not\u2026this isn\u2019t right. This isn\u2019t\u2026you.\u201d

BOSS: \u201cOf course it\u2019s me. I am fire. I am steel. I am the Boss.\u201d

WREN: \u201cYou weren\u2019t always like this. Do you remember playing in the woods? Studying art?\u201d

The voice using his face like a puppet grew harsher, more mechanical.

BOSS: \u201cYour conjecture interests me not, insect. I am the standard. I am the control. I am the Boss.\u201d

WREN: \u201cI don\u2019t know if you can hear me, but I\u2019m not stopping now. I\u2019m going into the vault, and I\u2019m going to bring you back with me. The real you. Just keep\u2026breathing, if that\u2019s a thing you still do. It\u2019s not over yet.\u201d

I tore my eyes away from the shining abyss and passed through the door across from the engine. As it closed behind me, the sound and heat from the machine dissipated, and I was once again on my own in a dark, quiet cave. I could hear water drip from stalagmites onto the damp stone ground. My phone had just enough battery left to cast its light across the rock, revealing hundreds of boxes and bags, all stuffed to the brim with letters, packages, objects. A chef\u2019s knife, a game cartridge, cassettes unspooling their magnetic tape through dirty puddles. All things forgotten but not lost.\xa0

I was finally in the Vault of the Dead Letter Office of Aisling, Ohio.

***

CONWAY: \u201cYeah, good to meet you. *ow* Strong handshake you got there. So this is still my first week, what did he say I should do with the ones that uhh fit the criteria?\u201d

DIRECTOR: \u201cThe Boss says to make a note of it, send the memo to your supervisor, and place the letter or object in the shaft to the vault.\u201d

CONWAY: \u201cRight. Now pardon me if this sounds a little funny, but who is my supervisor? Where\u2019s this vault?\u201d

DIRECTOR: \u201cAt present, you don\u2019t need to know any of that. Just follow the steps exactly as prescribed.\u201d\xa0

CONWAY: \u201cAw hell, you\u2019re the ones giving me health insurance, I\u2019m not dumb enough to question that. So you got it, sir.\u201d

\xa0

DIRECTOR: \u201cGood to hear. You know how to keep a secret, right? Because at this agency, we value our privacy. We don\u2019t need your average citizens finding out what we do. So this vault is where we send all evidence that we, and the things we handle, exist. You don\u2019t want to go in there. Could be dangerous. It\u2019s best that it\u2019s forgotten. You understand?

CONWAY: \u201cNot really, but I promise I won\u2019t go in there. Wherever \u2018there\u2019 is.\u201d

DIRECTOR: \u201cOh and one more thing: you like baseball, Mr. Conway?\u201d

CONWAY: \u201cSure, well enough. And please, call me\u2013\u201d

*STATIC*

CREDITS

Hey everybody, it\u2019s your host here with just a few brief announcements and shoutouts. So this is the penultimate episode. The next episode will be out soon and that will be the finale of the series, or at least the series as it exists now. I\u2019m sure I\u2019ll make more at some point, but it\u2019s not going to be these characters, it\u2019s not going to be this story, it\u2019s going to be a whole different thing. So I hope you still enjoy it and I will certainly enjoy my break.\xa0

I want to thank everybody who\u2019s listened so far, or left reviews or subscribed or shared the show. It really helps and it means the world to me.

And without further, I\u2019d love to give a shoutout to our lovely patrons:

\xa0

Carriers Alien Octopus, BertBert, Feather, Flo, and Jessica.

Receiving Clerks Argent Lune, Elena, Ezra, Gadz, Jennifer, Kidcha, Spicy Nigel, Patricia, Paul, and Wheezy and Beaker.