Auxiliary notes ::

The mask straps on. Immediately you feel the change, in the pressure of your own breathing, the slight effort it now takes.
Every breath in, the mask seals on tighter. That rubber seal that is tucked under your jaw, that holds firmly in place as it presses lightly into your cheeks. A slight annoyance in the way it digs into the top of your nose.
And breathing out, pushing against it, but its seal stays strong. That mask and its thick, curving pipes, controlling the imminent input that the human body needs.
In… and out… in… and out… the hissing of your own breath so internalised that you can just sink into it, matching the rhythm of the binaural beats that flood into your headset.

And this is before we’ve even turned on the hypnogas.

The air you’re fed, already have a strange, industrial flavour too it, tasting strongly of the metallic containers it is kept within, begins to take on a lavender flavour. So subtle at first, but it grows and grows, until it is thickly sweet with its floral scent.
Light headed, woozy, that distinctive scent so intoxicating that it drowns out the rest of the world. The spirals, the flashing words, the sweet whispers: all blurring into one. The world is spiralling down and you are lost in its pull. Becoming emptier and emptier. A blank slate for us to program.

A new drone will be awakening soon.

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