Beyond the shipping container is a boiler room, with enormous floor-to-ceiling steel drums taking up most of the space. Just across the way is an open threshold to a small closet, and to the right is a pair of very short hallways that cut through to the other side. Blue light flashes intermittently through the nearer of the two.

Oh, movement? Well that's something different.

She moves towards the blue light—some sort of instinct telling her to be cautious.

As she nears the blue light, that same instinct blares at her to stay just outside of it, not entering the light itself.

She complies, watching as the light flashes slowly on and off, on and off.

After the third time watching the light flash off, she jolts forward, peering to see the source of the light.

Is she being silly? It's just a light, but she can't help but heed the instinct screaming in her mind to stay out of the light.

It's a short corridor, strewn with a few boxes and barrels, utterly unremarkable except for the small device standing about a foot and a half tall. Four spindly metal legs support a trapezoidal body. The sides are hollow, revealing a red light glowing within and some electronics. Atop that body rotates an arm with a little camera shining a blue light, and a long metal tube about the size of a rifle barrel. A narrow box sits at the back end of the arm, and a little pole sticks up over the tube.

The device pans back and forth, covering both sides of its little corridor. It turns swiftly back toward her.

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck-
She pulls back immediately, heart pounding in her chest. She doesn't know how, but she recognizes that thing—some part of her subconscious twinging at the sight and screaming at her that it's dangerous.

Fuck.

Ok, just breathe. It can't move, can't follow her. It's okay.

Slowly, she gets up.

She doesn't have to go that way. Not yet.

She turns and begins walking. What's in that closet?

The closet contains a tool cabinet full of paint cans and some unidentified large drums of something. Atop one drum rest three pistol cartridges.

…Oh yes!

She pockets the pistol cartridges—just in case—and grabs a paint can.

Moving quickly back to the hall, she waits for the light to turn away from her, then turns around the corner to face the device.

Pitching back, she hurls the paintcan under-arm at the machine—aiming for the top of the device as it turns slowly back towards her.

The can sails through the air and strikes the arm, just above the rotor. The machine tips, then falls over, blue light panning across the ceiling, spindly legs sticking into the air.

Perfect!

She walks carefully around the device, being sure to stay below the blue light as it pans over the ceiling.

It jerks and wiggles a little as it tries to pan fully, and tries to pan down to the wall, but only occasionally manages it. The back casing on the arm is cracked, revealing a feed mechanism full of .22 cartridges.

Ohhhh?

Still no gun to use them with, but score! She quickly cracks the casing the rest of the way open, holding the device still to keep it pointed away from her, and pries the belt free.

Who knows if she'll use it, but it's worth keeping for now.

Then, setting the device back down on its back, she turns down the corridor.

What's past the device?

Sitting on a metal barrel at the end of another line of boilers is a small tape device. Closer inspection reveals it to be a tape deck hybridized with a floppy drive, and a little screen on it with a pair of arrow buttons. A pair of headphones rest alongside it, atop a floppy disk, as well as two more pistol cartridges.

…Huh.

She looks around, carefully scanning her surroundings for signs of—well, anything, really. After a moment of searching, she shrugs, pockets the pistol cartridges, and slots the floppy disk into the strange reader-device.

Sitting down against one side of the corridor, she begins to read.

The disk contains a single file, labeled "Out of Time."

All signs indicate that the MindKill is imminent. The Threat has abandoned subtlety in its infiltration of the media, of our society, of our bodies. There is no longer any doubt.

THIS IS THE TIME WE HAVE PREPARED FOR.

Receivers who have volunteered for cache duty, now is the time to focus on your Mindtech to ensure that your guidance and supplies reach those who survive. If you receive this message after the Mindkill, please accept our aid, and ensure that our sacrifice was not in vain. 

She sets the reader down in her lap.

For some reason, these terms feel… familiar.

Cache duty…

…

…No, nothing. It's like her thoughts and memories are… blurry; filled with static. She can tell there's something there, but she can't quite… reach it.

She sighs and ejects the disk from the reader. Maybe she'll remember later.