The rain hits your window like static—soft at first, then relentless. You’ve always liked storms. They drown out the noise of the city, give you space to think.
Tonight, though, something feels different.
Your laptop flickers.
You didn’t touch it.
The screen turns black. Then a single line of text appears:
“DO YOU REMEMBER PROJECT ORION?”
Your stomach tightens.
You haven’t heard that name in years. Not since you walked away. Not since you promised yourself you’d never get involved again.
Another line appears:
“WE FOUND YOU.”
You slam the laptop shut.
Silence.
Then—your phone vibrates.
Unknown number.
You hesitate… then answer.
“Hello?”
A pause. Static. Then a voice—distorted, almost mechanical.
“They’re coming. If you want to live, go to the locker. Station 7. You have ten minutes.”
The line goes dead.
Your heart is pounding now.
You don’t know who “they” are.
But you do know one thing:
No one outside Project Orion should know about the locker.
CHOICE 1
What do you do?
A. Go to Station 7 immediately
B. Ignore the message and stay home
C. Try to trace the phone call
(Reply with A, B, or C to continue.)