---
title: 00060
created: Tue, 31 Jan 2023 19:11:47 -0700
updated: Tue, 31 Jan 2023 19:11:48 -0700
public: yes
syndicated: yes
---
### 00060 {#00060}

> Alex takes inventory of himself, this dream world is definitely
> strange, but fortunately its decided to provide him with his
> impecable fashion, trench coat and all. Unfortunately the same can't
> be said for his roguish good looks, as he's found himself 6 arms
> heavier, and a bit more octopus-y than he remembers.
> 
> Nontheless this doesn't appear to be much of an impediment, and he
> promptly moves on with assessing the situation.
> 
> "Acorns? No, I don't think so. I'm afraid octopus' are terrible at
> fetching acrons, and at any rate, I have a dreadfully important
> meeting across town." turning to address Inky, "We need to make a
> break for it, what'd the witch tell you? Envision our goal or
> something? This is really a little outside of my realm of mechanical
> magic expertise.. unless.."
> 
> Alex makes a gesture with his tentacles in the area and a terminal
> prompt appears before him. His tentacles work at blinding speed at
> the digital window, a quick bypass there, a root access escalation
> there.
> 
> "Looks like this whole place runs on Linux, it's an older kernel,
> about 2.6 or so, but it checks out. Easy to exploit as needed. Here
> I'm giving us sudo access, should we need it."
> 
> "Oh and squirrel, here's your acorns"
> 
> ```
> find /* -name '*acron*' -exec mv /home/squirrel { } \
> ```

It takes Alectopus a couple tries, but he gets it. First he corrects
'acron' to 'acorn'. Then he moves all the acorns to the *chipmunk*
instead of to the squirrel.

Hundreds of acorns appear at the chipmunk's feet. It squeals in
delight.

In the distance, far below you, you hear the anguished yell of what
can only be a Red Squirrel whose giant stash of acorns has just
vanished.

The chipmunk rubs its hands together gleefully and starts scooping up
acorns by the armful and shoving them into its mouth by the dozen.
"Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" it says around a mouthful of
nuts. "Here..." It tosses you a large square silver coin with a round
hole drilled in the center. On one side is the number twenty-one next
to a picture of a curved, short-handled sickle. On the other side is
the number five and a picture of a flail.

"A Twenty-One Fiver! Sorry, you deserve more, but it's all I have,"
it apologizes as it scampers off, no doubt to hide its nuts.
Hopefully somewhere more secure this time.

If you hold the coin up to your eye and peer through the hole, you
see the dreamscape before you as though looking through a cloudy
film. All the same stuff is there, but it's hazy and shadowy.

Standing a fair distance from you on the branch, just out of hailing
distance, is a tall figure cloaked in black robes. Dark shadows pool
restlessly around its feet. Occasionally the shadows leap up and take
the form of demons the like of which words cannot describe, before
falling and returning to shadow once more. The figure wears a large
spherical helmet of obsidian-like glass. You can see constant flashes
of a rainbow of colors crackle and splinter along the inside of the
helmet like lightning, but illuminating nothing within. You feel
sickened at the sight, but at the edge of your mind you feels a tug,
a familiarity. Something about this character is familiar to you, but
you cannot place it.

When you lower the coin, the figure and the dark landscape both
disappear. When you raise it again, the distorted landscape reappears
but the figure is gone.

You notice a pair of large ravens watching you rather intently from
the branches below.

WHAT DO YOU DO

