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 was a simple fit, the edges just sliding in place, and then the log rolled sideways and a series of gears turned and pistons slid, metal folded, and mechanisms triggered in some elaborate sequential unlock. "Wait here," you tell your companions.

In the space left by the log, metal stairs descend. Low-lit flood lamps illuminate the steps, the size and intensity of fireflies. You move down the stairs, black box in hand, though the display is clear gray. As you arrive at the bottom landing, the unnatural clicking of machinery resonates through the shallow tunnel, a metal plates closes the top of the stairs, and an overhead track of light flips on.

You walk along the corridor and pass through an open doorway. Inside the next room sits a central podium, with a touch screen and three doors leading out. The whole place resembles a hospital or clinic, sterile and flat, with sharp edges and blank walls. You tap the screen which responds with a circle around your fingertip, and the kiosk alights in a pale blue.

PLACE HAND IN CENTER.

GOOD, NOW TYPE YOUR NAME.

THANK YOU, Rezo .. SELECT YOUR DESTINATION.