[ Gestalt Scout Officer Ariane Yeong, designated pilot of exploration vessel Penrose-512 of the Eusan People's Navy, wakes up on the two hundred and sixty-sixth cycle of her mission in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room.

The first thing she notices is the light - light! - streaming in through the window. Both are impossible on the Penrose. The next thing she learns, when she tries to stand, is that being upright makes her violently, nauseatingly dizzy. It takes her some time to shakily make it to the restroom, and what she sees in the mirror is the most shocking thing of all.

Ariane's fine white hair, typically cropped short in an approved style, is long and wild, stretching down to her waist. The skin around her red eyes is lined, and bandages cover her face and arms. When she smiles, there are teeth missing. All of it suggests the horrible passage of time, none of which she can remember.

Determined to find some sort of explanation, Ariane makes her way down to the receptionist's desk. You might find her there, leaning heavily against it as if for dear life, her soft voice growing increasingly agitated. ]

Please. I know when the continental breakfast is, yes, thank you for the information. I need to know the date. The cycle, the standard date, anything at all - please.

[ The receptionist keeps directing Ariane to the rest of town, so that's where she goes. She eventually finds the diner, which is a welcome place to sit down, rest, and maybe get something to eat. Even Ariane will admit that the pie is much more preferable to the rations.

As she eats, Ariane relaxes. Normally, with these things, she'd prefer to keep to herself, but for some reason, as soon as you walk through the door, she gives you a little wave. ]

Hello! Are you new in town, too? The pie is actually quite good, they weren't kidding about that.

[ The eyes that follow Ariane Yeong are different than most. Instead of the soft, organic eyes of a gestalt, all Ariane sees are piercing blue lenses, flecked with a red flare. They follow her with a slightly mechanical whirr, inaudible to everyone except Ariane.

And oh, there are so, so many of them. In the walls. The floors. Under Ariane's bandages, which she keeps scratching and rubbing at, over and over, as if she can wash them off her. But the eyes are legion, and they are stubborn, and they tell her one thing:

Remember our promise. ]

I'm sorry, [ Ariane begs, once again desperate ] I don't remember.