Cabin

(Namespace: headspace)

An old toymaker used to live in this cabin. His granddaughter would sometimes come to visit. When she stopped visiting, he went mad from isolation and began to engineer sentient clockwork robots.

Once he had a whole family of them surrounding him, he passed away. That was when the acid rain started.

The robots didn't understand how human lives worked, and toiled in futility to repair him, and as they failed, one by one, they succumbed to grief and rusted away in the acid rain. Until only two remained: Six and Eleven. So named for their version numbers. Eleven considered itself the older sibling, and was protective of Six, and Six, indeed, was smaller and less mature—even though Six had technically come first.

Years later, at a time when Six and Eleven were both dormant, and the acid rain had destroyed the village… A gaunt figure disguised under the hood of a baggy black raincoat approached the depopulated village. It was the toymaker's granddaughter.

She found on his doorstep a recorded tape he had left for her—that he was so sorry for what he'd done, for what he'd unleashed; for how he'd damaged this place; that it was all up to her now.

She sought out the robots in his abandoned toolshed, and with some work, reactivated Eleven. But Six remained dormant. Eleven, too, was worried and grief-stricken—that the comforting joy of its “younger” sibling would not be by its side.

In the attic of the cabin is a huge, dark, empty room. That dark room can be reached from suitspace. It's on the other side of the hearts door. Singer has used it for internal communication before. She is able to invite us there to sit and talk to her.