A man shrouded by fedora pulled low and wrinkled suit just a size too big confronts you from an alley. The stench of rotten fish floats from between his yellowed jagged teeth. You’ve a memory of this man. You can feel it floating at the edge of recall, ever present but undefined. He extends his hand, fingers unnaturally long and thin. In his palm, a metallic box intricately engraved.
"The Mainframe has such sights to show you. What is it you seek, traveler?"
- "Other realities haunt my vision. Show me these wonderous worlds."
- "I seek counsel with The Creator, to harvest his secrets."
- Retreat in revulsion while his words torment you like an itch inside your skull.