As we’ve previously established, forward and backward are not necessarily stable concepts. Conway makes a choice. Wren steels their nerves. A familiar face appears. This is the end. (CWs: food, brief allusion to bullying, mild apocalyptic imagery, death) Nathan of The Storage Papers as AGENT/DIRECTOR; Jess of Nowhere, On Air as Liz. Go listen to their shows! https://nowhereonairpodcast.weebly.com/ thestoragepapers.com Kiss Me Son of God originally by They Might Be Giants (John Flansburgh and John Linnell) Quotes from Jean Baudrillard's Fatal Strategies and John Stuart Mill. *Projector clicks, a dark smoky room filled with people*   AGENT: That brings us to the falling hand incident from a few years back, dead case 0069.   *sparse chuckles from audience members*   AGENT: *exasperated* Jesus, I’m running a daycare here. Now those of you who were with the office at the time will already know all this. You new guys won’t know anything about it. But that’s why we’re here, right? One of our field agents witnessed the whole thing, and gave their testimony during a thorough debriefing here in HQ. Pay attention to Wren’s account. I’m only going over it once.   *slide click* *INTRO MUSIC*   WREN, on tape: Falling to earth from somewhere I chose not to think about was a left hand.   AGENT, on tape: So what did you do? WREN: Well, I tried the one thing I hadn’t done yet. One last shot before the end of the world. I called Conway.    CONWAY: Hard to explain how I got into that lighthouse. Can barely remember it myself through the fog of exhaustion. I was so damn tired. But get in I did. And at the top--or was it bottom?--was a dark, steamy room. An office of sorts, filled with smoke pouring out from some sort of awful machine in the corner. The engine’s shape was irregular, almost hard to look at, but it kept spewing its haze like humid breath. In the center of the office was a desk, set with--you guessed it--a phone, some stationary, a blank nameplate, a painting of an old lighthouse in a gold frame. I sat in the plush leather chair behind the desk. A highly welcome respite after the day I’d had. The woods, the mall, the deerhead priest, the lost fisherman. I needed a minute to put my feet up. I’d earned it.   I leaned back and looked at the empty notepad. “Welcome to the Deerland Mall” was printed at the top of each page. I had the materials to send a letter to the DLO, but what to actually write? “Hey, I’m in a weird lighthouse somewhere, come get me?” I didn’t see how that would work. Still, according to the fisherman, I had two paths in front of me: write home and go back to my life as it was, or answer the call and take the promotion.   And then it rang. No, not the offwhite rotary phone in front of me, it was my cell phone. Didn’t recognize the number. Probably somebody calling about my car’s warranty or a $50 walmart gift card. But at that point I was willing to take that risk just to hear someone who didn’t talk in metaphors again.   CONWAY, on the phone: Hello? WREN, on the phone: Conway? Oh my god, is that you!? CONWAY: Yeah, this is Conway. Hard to make out what you’re saying. Sorry, who is this? WREN: Oh wow, I don’t know how I got through to you but listen: I’m coming to get you. CONWAY: I don’t reckon that’s the smartest idea. I don’t even know wh-- WREN: I’ve followed your trail. I think I’m nearby now. But there’s something going on. Something you’re connected to. It’s bad. Lucy told me where to find you. I think she’s-- CONWAY: Now what is this about Lucy? You talked to her? Are you with the office? How...how is she? WREN: I just got a postcard from her. But listen, something’s coming, and I don’t think it’s going to end well. I need you to come out of the cave now. I’ll be at the entrance waiting to take your hand. CONWAY: Cave? THAT cave? I’m...wherever I am, I’m not in there. WREN: Where are you? This may be it, Conway. The end.CONWAY: I’m in a lighthouse. The fisherman in the place that looks just like a blockbuster s