It's dark in here. And oddly silent. And oddly sterile. Obviously the Posting Floor must be kept clean, but during the day the workers bring a certain warmth and liveliness to the place that you always appreciate. Nothing brightens up a dreary Monday like a friendly smile and the smell of fresh posts, you always say.
In fact, you—
Uh oh.
Something's moving under your feet. You've spent so much time on the Posting Floor you'd swear you could walk the place blindfolded, but in the dark you've somehow stumbled onto the posting conveyor! With a threatening whirring sound, all the machinery suddenly comes to life.
You hear the THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. of the post compressor up ahead, threatening to reduce you to a few kilobytes of text and maybe an emoji or two.
Looking around quickly, you try to find something that will protect your very fragile body. You reach out and grab the only thing you think will do the trick.
Inventory
- (empty)