Is this a hallucination? (And if it is a hallucination, why the heck am I imagining Coraline Jones, of all people. Surely my subconscious has a deeper catalogue of weird choices to choose from.) I push my glasses back up my nose and flick the HUD on again with an impatient tap, a web of information dancing in front of my eyes that makes about as much sense as everything else that's happening at the moment.
Which is to say: not much at all.
I reach out to touch her shoulder only to find my hand passes right through. Not surprising, given the trick with the desk, but it's still another point of data.
no subject
Is this a hallucination? (And if it is a hallucination, why the heck am I imagining Coraline Jones, of all people. Surely my subconscious has a deeper catalogue of weird choices to choose from.) I push my glasses back up my nose and flick the HUD on again with an impatient tap, a web of information dancing in front of my eyes that makes about as much sense as everything else that's happening at the moment.
Which is to say: not much at all.
I reach out to touch her shoulder only to find my hand passes right through. Not surprising, given the trick with the desk, but it's still another point of data.
"--why are you in my house?"