Desk and drawers.

Before checking it out, you need some light. Which means speaking words to Mute without making yourself seem needy or like a complete idiot.

Yeah, this is going to go well. Deep breaths.

You wave at Mute and say, "I don't know why I'm waving my hand. Hey. Hi. Hello."

"Hey. Quick question, you'd tell me if I came off as cold earlier, right?" Mute is actually looking at you as he says this.

"Always!" Did you just squeal? Wait, what you said could be interpreted very, very wrong. You clarify, "I'd always tell you, is what I meant. Not that you're always cold. You're not cold. I think you're cool, but not cold. As in you seem to be a chill guy. Which I know you are because we're friends and I like you! Is there a reason you prefer sticks over flash-lights? I do too. They're just more reliable. Something a cool, but not cold guy would prefer. I'm also reliable. Not that you'd prefer me, of course. Not that I mean anything by that. Anyway, could I have one of those sticks?"

"Yes and I agree." Mute says, handing you a couple of glow-stick. "Do say if you need more. That machine is still pumping them out by the dozens."

You already failed at you one objective, so you nod in acknowledgement and… sort of… scuttle away from him. Is it too late to lie down and die? Maybe there's a drawer you could crawl into and use as a coffin. You'd cry, but, apparently, your friends already find the amount you cry weird. Which it totally is.

What did he mean by 'I agree'? Does he think you're reliable? That he'd not prefer you? Why did you even say that!? Heck, he thinks you're a disgusting, un-preferable idiot! Now you know that for certain. Tears are already swelling up in you again and you'd do anything to Shiva the frick out right now. Instead, you begin your grave-robbing breach of personal space.

Well, that was pointless, you think, absent mindedly fiddling with some sort of ancient toy. At least you found a chair to sit and a desk to rest your miserable corpus on. Which would be incredible were it not for the built-in black mirror on the table's surface. It's cold against your cheek and you can vaguely spot your own reflection in it.

The doodads on the desk turned out to be multiple of said toy you're fiddling with. Toy might be a little to much of a descriptor. The place doesn't look like a ****-garden. A utility of sorts? Rectangular things with flat plug-like ends. The drawers? Fake. When you pulled them out, they turned out be nothing but squares made to look like ornate drawers. Each one a surface full of tiny holes... almost the shape of those toys.

You pull out a drawer and try slotting a toy into a hole. It fits perfectly. Nothing happens. An idea enters your mind- What if this whole contraption is a receiver of sorts. They'd plug in those toys and information would be displayed on the table's surface. The possibility fills you with excitement! It's a puzzle! Right here, this, is what you excel at. Figuring out how odd and ancient contraptions work.

Sensing your excitement, the table obliges and its surface flickers to life. Jorrel and Emalie spares you a short glance before returning to their argument, uninterested in whatever a table could offer of insight. Besides, odd coincidences like this happens all the time when exploring. Its par for the course that a machine would turn on out of nowhere.

Great. Okay. The thing is turned on - somehow - so what's next? You slotted a toy in and nothing happened. You proceed to try all the toys in all possible variation, in each drawer, before - finally - something new happens. A message!

Jonathan CEO Today at 13:42
@Everyone : About the recent waves of complaints.

There's no reason to start speculating about the possible implication of last week's announcement in Bulgaria and their effect on us here. I don't want to come off as condescending, but, come on, people. Could we tune down the paranoia? Everything is fine. One little hiccup and - suddenly - our entire profession is under attack. You all know how this works. Fire bad. Me smash fire with rock. Then we show them that, no, look, fire good. Fire warm. Fire make food.

Then they smash fire anyway. Doesn't matter what we do! The public sees what it wants to see. Sure, a couple of people ended up in the hospital and those people then sent some people to another hospital (If I see a single message contain the Z word, I will end you. JK. Or am I? I'm not). I think the best of you guys, but come the fuck on. Obviously they had our product as a common denominator. Do I really need to point out that nearly everyone on the entire planet owns something like our product!?

I've been lenient on you guys so far, seeing how we're like family. Just two dozen people, doing what we do best; improving people's lives. Next time it happens I will make you pay. Yes, the prototype is nearly indestructible, but it's about the principle of it! Which is why Rolph has agreed to do a ten-hour break-free power-point presentation on respecting other people's property, if you don't stop acting like cavemen.

So - I urge you - stop desecrating the prototype. Stop covering it. Stop pouring shit on it. It's in the break room for a reason. No. I will not move it to reception. Why would I move it to the reception. Stupid-est-est suggestion I've heard, from all of you, in years. Actually, scratch that, second dumbest. As an aside - @Clarie - if I hear one more thing about your 'coffee-servitors' I will discontinue - Every. Single. Coffee machine. Ever. - If you want coffee, get the fuck up from your chairs, and get some.

TLDR: Fire good. Fire warm. Everything is fine. We got this.