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Lavender Sandy Basket
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Hunter approaches the two of you cautiously.
>"Okay, seriously, what the hell are you guys talking about? This guy sounds like an old modem in my head which makes the fact that I can understand him even weirder..."
"Yeah, sorry, this is Tcha'rl: a sentient computer program from some planet called Maar."
Tch'arl waves a strangely jointed hand.
>[Express (active tense) gratitude: Save (past tense) selfmass Tch'arl from isolation///]
>"Oh..kayyy."
"Yeah, I know, right? Anyway, apparently their world is dying, and they sent some kind of 'probe' here to swap their planet with ours."
>"The fuck?"
"Wait, it gets better: apparently the probe is what's been causing all the problems. It can somehow make itself look like other people, and has been trying to access a message we have on our computers all day."
>"So that's why Jones said he brought me home? It was this probe posing as me? This is fucking weird and as a police officer I'm pretty much the authority on weird. "
She sighs.
>"So what do we do?"
You direct her attention to the partially assembled construct.
"Before my wasps went AWOL on me, they were trying to get me to assemble some kind of device to stop the Axle. I have most of the parts now thanks to Doug, but I think I still need... an Engine and.... a Lever.... They're like, concepts: some kind of concrete idea that represents something. Put them together and they become a machine. I was hoping you might be able to help us out by lending us something."
>"You mean by going into my head?"
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