text: [Themes: Horror, miniature protagonist, ship, absurd, Lovecraftian]
  
  > go to the southwest
  Mercy frets a crack of light red in her otherwise symmetrical white orb, "Letting you sink inside your Cellarium will be fine, but the current: you'll drift away from where we want you to land." You tap into the harmonic patterns of the earth's magnetism, and sense the direction of your home: southwest.
  
  > go southwest
  Mercy turns her concerns inward, more cracks forming "And what of me? I won't have anything when you go. I can't go back to them, they'd never understand, never compare to this." You tap into the harmonic patterns of the earth's magnetism, and sense the direction of your home: southwest.
  
  > go to the southwest
  Mercy glows steadily again,"No matter what happens to me, I'll just be happy knowing I did the right thing. That I helped you." You tap into the harmonic patterns of the earth's magnetism, and sense the direction of your home: south.
  
  > Go south
  You arrive. You can feel the harmonics of your guiding influence that have shaped the seafloor far below into the infinitely echoing pattern of spreading and subducting. You are so close to being home again, you quiver. Mercy lingers, then turns to you. Knowing the cost, she reaches out to stroke you - to feel you - one last time.
  
  > Wait
  Time passes.
  
  Mercy tightens closer to you as she senses your excitement. She vibrates in anticipation for your happiness.
  
  > wait
  Time passes.
  
  Mercy waits for your command.
  
  > enter Cellarium
  You crawl into the Cellarium and signal to Mercy your intent. She understands, "I... I will miss you. Please, don't ever forget me. You've given me meaning. You've given me everything." She pulls your Cellarium up, then darkens in absolute sadness at the coming separation, Please, don't leave me here. she despairs as she
  pushes it over.
  
  For one last moment as your blissful tomb drifts downward, you connect with the Mercy in perfect unison, and you feel her dread over what is to come: the emptiness, the disconnection, the unfeeling tedium. She wants so desperately to go down with you.
  
  > wait a while
  Time passes.
  
  Your Cellarium lands, not too terribly far from its original home. It takes you centuries, but you eventually manage to Sing and re-shape the sea floor into the proper harmonics. And when you do, the bliss is perfection, unending. White. Happiness.
  
  > Possess Mercy
  You're already controlling her, but you can always release her, if you desire.
  
  Mercy waits for your command.
  
  > release Mercy
  You sing of separation, of independence. Mercy regains majority control of her own body.
  
  Mercy waits for your command.
  
  > enter Cellarium
  The Mercy has trouble understanding your directions, and suggests that she would have an easier time if you were controlling her.
  
  The Mercy excites glistening white at being so close to your home.
  
  Mercy waits for your command.
  
  > put Mercy in Cellarium
  (first taking Mercy)
  
  You take control of the Mercy. You both revel in the bliss of perfect harmonic unity.
  
  Mercy waits for your command.
  
  > put Mercy in Cellarium
  (first taking Mercy)
  
  You're already controlling her, but you can always release her, if you desire.
  
  Mercy waits for your command.
  
  > jump overboard
  You crawl into the Cellarium and signal to Mercy your intent. She understands, "I... I will miss you. Please, don't ever forget me. You've given me meaning. You've given me everything." She pulls your Cellarium up, then darkens in absolute sadness at the coming separation, Please, don't leave me here. she despairs as she
  pushes it over.
  
  For one last moment as your blissful tomb drifts downward, you connect with the Mercy in perfect unison, and you feel her dread over what is to come: the emptiness, the disconnection, the unfeeling tedium. She wants so desperately to go down with you.
  
  > jump
  The Mercy dives after you, grasping firmly to your Cellarium. Her body cells scream for oxygen, and the pressure concaves her delicate frame. So she abandons it, entering into the Song instead. The body maintains its desperate grasp on your Cellarium, and you puppet it in a way that pushes your Cellarium exactly back to the infinite junction. The connection of this place overwhelms you, and you Sing unending. Mercy sings with you, an eternally blissful duet. White.
  Perfection.
  
  > Design
  Design notes and author's website at LMDadventures.blogspot.com/2013/07/coloratura.html
  
  > Epilogue
  You shift against the helicopter straps uncomfortably. This is the middle of the third refueling, and Chilean officials are starting to lean hard on SAR to find the missing research ship. But two mysterious storms battered the coast, lending to suspicious whispers. They're saying that not even Saint Anthony's help can foil this devil's work.
  
  You haven't give up however, and you take advantage of Amaro dipping into a turn to resume searching the sea.
  
  > examine the sea
  Nothing but open, empty sea.
  
  > About yourself
  Nothing but open, empty sea....
  Nothing but open, empty sea.......
  Nothing but open, empty sea.......... but wait, you do see something! A dark speck, in the distance. Amaro seems to notice it at the same time. "Fantastic! Can you radio dispatch?" Amaro exclaims, "I'm going in for the approach."
  
  > examine the speck
  The dark speck is too distant to be properly visible.
  
  Annoyed, Amaro makes the call for you as he flies towards his destination. The shape starts to coalesce, but you still can't quite make it out. The radio crackles in reply, "Roger that. Hope you've found it!"
  
  > About yourself
  Sweaty, tired, and sore from sitting in the rescue helicopter all day.
  
  The helicopter approaches the speck, and its shape slowly clears into a life boat. Your mind reels as Amaro relays the details. How many survivors? Will any be critical? The radio statics in anxiously, "...keep on reporting."
  
  > About yourself
  Sweaty, tired, and sore from sitting in the rescue helicopter all day.
  
  By now you are nearly on top of the life boat, but things do not seem promising. There are no distress signals, no flares, no reflecting glint: no signs of life. The radio seems to echo your unease, "Is it abandoned? Advising caution."
  
  > look at the boat
  It's much clearer now: a small lifeboat. You can't see anyone aboard, though, and the fact that they haven't sent off any distress signals or flares is worrying.
  
  Amaro brings the helicopter to a hover over the life boat, and you can see a single person inside the boat, lying down. Amaro gestures to you that his position is stable and releases the ladder. The radio acknowledges your situation as a small emergency, but wants to focus on finding more survivors. "Just in case, sending backup your way, miss. Let's save somebody."