scraph

rub your eyes a little; they seem a little fuzzy.

your hands are fucking magenta, do you WANT literal pinkeye

You've seen the pictures. You know how this works. Shit, you were seeing it unfolding right in front of you, weren't you? Watching static burst like fireworks reflected in the sea... you knew what was going to happen there and then. Except you didn't, obviously, because here you are, of all places, scattering to the sands and the deep pink sky. You're literally up to your eyeballs in it, so you've got maybe a minute, two if you're jammy. Which part of the brain deals with pain? With any luck, that should get cut out soon...

It's probably not a good idea to try touching your eyes after all. Still, purple's good. Is it wrong to say you were hoping for purple? Yeah, you reckon so.

you know, this "roll over beethoven" business got me thinkin' 'bout classic rock. why did "stairway to heaven" become this big song? it just kinda meanders along, from a slow section that comes off as simultaneously over-earnest and phony then into an uptempo undercooked rock section that doesn't rock. it's more laughable than anything. "kashmir" is alright i guess and i like "ramble on" because it's fuckin' funny when they start singing about mordor and gollum getting laid

what i'm saying is: that new thing in almost the exact center of the panel, the clear object of emphasis? fuck it, turn around and go the exact opposite direction. also do something about your fucked-up purple hands, barney

Your hands are beyond help, and so are you. Others might be more fortunate. You're pretty damn sure you've been here before, though you'd have to get closer to be certain. You could try and get a message back, urging a little more haste. You clearly left it too long.

...

You're not exactly close. There's no way you'll make it. If anything, surely it would be better to get away, as far as you can, trap it here, one less to deal with. Crest the dune, roll your way down, see what's on the other sand- side. On the other side.

...it'll be sand. Obviously.

Is it at least theoretically possible to make things, if not better, less worst? Stairs suggest some place to go, which may or may not contain one or more things to help solve one or more problems. Take The Thing with you if possible and/or advisable (though so far neither sounds likely).

You can't take it with you. It'll come of its own accord. That's kind of the problem with you drifting stairwards. And yet...

...it's you, of all people, who's in this mess.

What would have happened to the purple thing if everything had worked? Would it have been destroyed?

Where were you before you did the thing?

>Think about the answers to these questions

No one will know that you had this chance. Sure, someone should still be alive to read the logs, you hope, and they'll call back home, but if you can't get word back to base they'll have no way of knowing you survived the trip. In which case, they won't know your plan succeeded.

...okay fine it wasn't a complete fucking success you were rather hoping your best bloody friend here wouldn't make it through the stopover but it's not moving any more. Probably. It's a bit hard to tell with the encroaching visual snow. It could still be twitching slightly. You doubt it. Point is, you're the only person in possession of the holy trinity; the knowledge required to come up with the idea, the ability to pull it off, and the idiocy to actually fucking go through with it.

If you could just call home. Tell someone, anyone, precisely what you did.

...

You need to get to those steps.

try standing up again but better this time

You don't feel any pain. Not any more. There's not enough of you left to feel it.

You stand up.