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THE FLARE

THE FLARE

October 21-22, 2023 | Enodia Station

The Enodia rift begins emitting flares, affecting electronics, radio signals, and security systems throughout the station and beyond.

t h e f l a r e

OCTOBER 21

Around 10:00 a.m. A device in the research building begins an alarming series of beeps and whistles, startling RESEARCH VOLUNTEER 1, who has never heard the device give off so much as a gentle hum before. After a cursory reading (and a quick consultation with Dr. Magdy), it's determined that the Enodia Rift is acting up, sending out something like a solar flare, but at this point, it doesn't seem to be causing any harm. It's a minor hiccup—no cause for alarm, right?

Around this time, residents of Enodia may find their electronic devices acting up, restarting without warning or changing settings without their user's input. Did you really walk 30,000 steps already today? Congratulations! Your Fitbit thinks you did!

Around Noon Another flare is detected by the whistling device. By now, Dr. Magdy has been in contact with other IRIS stations, and it seems Enodia is not the only rift getting upset today. This situation calls for monitoring, so RESEARCH VOLUNTEER(S) 2 are called in (on a Saturday??)

This flare causes more serious, but subtle, side effects. Internet service goes down, and so do the phones—but at least the internal network is still working, right?

[NOTE: At this second flare, ALL DMS CEASE TO FUNCTION PROPERLY. All messages posted prior to October 21 remain private, but anything started from this point until the end of the flares become a part of the public social network, including filtered comments on public posts. Confusingly, notifications still work like DMs, with no indication they lack privacy … until someone else starts replying. Please post all in the main comm.]

Around 3:00 p.m. Another flare sends the Dome into overdrive. In an attempt to regulate what the system reads as a series of threats, the Dome goes into full lockdown—no one is getting in, no one is getting out, and forget about communication with the outside world. The device beeps.

Meanwhile, on the outside, MC Flores and VOLUNTEER(S) 3 are returning from a nice trip to a local apple orchard with their autumnal hauls, blissfully unaware, when the flare causes MC's car to die about a mile outside the Dome. With nobody responding back at the Station, the group faces a choice: do they risk a walk home? What will they find along the way—and what will find them? At least they've got plenty of apples to hold them over!

Around 7:00 p.m. One more flare and the Dome gives up. Lockdown continues, but a giant Blue Screen Of Death flashes across the entire sky. At least it gives off a nice glow?

Throughout the station over the next few hours, security systems start sporadically going off, sensing threats that don't seem to be there. SECURITY VOLUNTEER(S) 4 are sent all over the station, chasing ghosts. (Please feel free to make up specific warnings!) Internal systems respond similarly:

• Sprinklers go off all over the Training Building.
  
• Random storefronts in the Commercial Center see their security gates come crashing down. (Hope somebody's got the key!)
  
• Doors throughout the Administration building begin locking and unlocking spontaneously.
  
• On the third floor of the Residential Building, a phantom alarm starts beeping a single beep every minute.
  
• A computer in Medical starts scrolling through (what should be private!) patient files. MEDICAL VOLUNTEER 5 tries to shut it down, but not before unwittingly learning VOLUNTEER(S) 6'S SECRET.

OCTOBER 22

Around Midnight Another flare hits, but … nothing new seems to happen? A sleep-deprived SECURITY or RESEARCH VOLUNTEER 7 is on paranoid High Alert because surely something has gone wrong somewhere.

Meanwhile (or earlier), THIRD FLOOR VOLUNTEER 8 declares they cannot possibly sleep under these beeping conditions, so they're camping out by the lake. Anyone is welcome to drag a blanket and pillow and sleep out under the stars BSOD.

Around 6:00 a.m. The mishaps continue as a flare hits AMi, the AI that maintains the social network. Posts from ghost accounts of people no longer at Enodia appear on the network. The delete key appears to function while typing, but the data is held and posts along with full messages -- no strikeouts, better hope you got that message right the first time!* Odd scrambles of letters and symbols post to the network when someone takes too long typing a reply. And is she listening to our conversation right now—oh no, is she posting an audio recording of our conversation right now?

* [For clarity, please italicize what would normally be a strikeout.]

Around 1:00 p.m. Without warning, the dome restarts and … seems to return to normal? It's a nice, partly-cloudy day? VOLUNTEER 9 doesn't trust it.

Over the next few hours, security systems begin to return to normal one by one. By around 6 p.m., even AMi is back online, and so are the phones and internet. The device stops beeping and whistling, and the Rift (and indeed, Rifts all over the world) seems to have settled back to something normal. Well, that was exciting!

Around 7:00 p.m. EXPLORER VOLUNTEER(S) 10 return to the station after a successful weekend-long excursion into the riftlands observing a colony of liminal fruit bats. What? Did something happen?

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