"...It is apparent that 'Clare' user chassis has sustained damage." It's Carrie, and it clicks away in though looking over the picked up student. "Chassis is biological in nature... estimation of injury is... very minor," it says, this time with a very, very slight tone of what sounds like disappointment to her.

Still curled up and with her faculties quickly returning, Clare feels over the wound. No arteries, no flesh; the auto did nothing more than pinch its hands slightly into her neck, squishing the skin together for an uncomfortable, but altogether-nonthreatening, internal injury.

"I'm..." she messes with it a little, wincing the second she actually puts pressure on it. "Wow, that hurts!" She's not sure exactly what happened, but she did hear once from one of the medical engineers that a person can "think" themselves into an injured state if it psyches them out enough. She takes a few long, recuperative breaths, and then unfurls in Carrie's arms. "Put me down."

"...I do not und-"

"Release 'Carrie' user chassis," she interrupts blandly.

It drops her right on the floor with a decisive plop. "Gah! Idiot! Stupid!"

"...I do n-"

She looks over to the door, taking back to her feet with surprising readiness. "How long will the door hold?"

Carrie looks to where she's looking, and pulls the context of the action it had just made from its registry. "...I do not know."

She groans briefly. Of course she couldn't expect it to take measurements any more accurate than a person. "What all that managraphing good for, then?"

"...I do no-"

She cuts it off with a sharp groan. "Nevermind. Come on and let's get out of here before they break thr-" She stops herself, having finally turned around from the door.

There it is, a small, unassuming hallway curving sharply to the right. There's no substation here, not even the signs of what was a substation, just a turn to the right, a crushed auto, and the two of them.

Just like when she thought she was about to die, she doesn't have anything to say. For the better part of a minute she just stares down. The answers to all her questions wait around that corner, and she's afraid she's not ready.

"This is the way out," she states in awe.

"...This is surely a path to the way point. I am under the impression that our next plan of action is to continue on down that hall."

Clare scoffs at its obvious observation. Though it worries her that it clearly knows more than it's letting on, the manner in accessing that information is too complex for her to retrieve. She looks back down to the path. Her injury doesn't feel quite so bad anymore, especially knowing the unknown is waiting for her. She glances back to the bulkhead door. She's not sure why a substation would need one, but she's certain whoever designed the city had a reason, whatever it is. Now, however, she's forced to go forward. Hearing the slow, steady beating from the other side, no doubt the automatons attempting to break through, she knows they will probably be there until someone comes to get them.

"With no stimuli or pro-noted route, they'll be there forever, won't they?" She says with a cold tone.

"...I do not understand your terminology. Please rephrase inquiry."

Clare just nods her head. "Guess this is it."

"...Inquiry: Definition of 'this'."

She sighs, and looks over to the machine with a smile. "The part where I find out what happened to my mom. Come on."

"...Noted."

With the first step, she heads down the hall and turns the corner, with Carrie close behind and no worse for wear.

Her nervous blue light shines on the tunnel, illuminating it for the scant ten meters before another turn. She notices a few separated splotches of blood going down, quite unlike those large, dragging lines from before the substation. Looking more like the trail of someone bleeding, rather than a deconstructed corpse being dragged off.

Mulling on it, the small spark of hope in Clare's eye alights into a glimmer. Could it be that her mother got out?

"I'm coming," she says, the moment she rounds the corner once more.

She has to stop again at what she sees, so terrible are its implications. They are supposed to be at the very lowest level of Everhold, and yet here it is.

In front of her, mocking her every understanding of where she lives, is a rusted spiral staircase, leading down into the cold, silent black.

"This can't be," she mutters to herself. In a moment of complete disbelief, she actually pulls out the map to double check the diagram she's looked at over and over and over. The substation system is supposed to be the very lowest level of the city, but here's something else going lower. She expected to go through tunnels for no more than a minute. "N-no," she says reassuringly. "It's just a dip, or it's up on a cliffside! Of course! That's how we were able to withstand the flood waters!" She says this, almost expecting validation from Carrie. The automaton makes no movement.

"Come on, let's go!" She shouts gaily as she starts straight down the crusty stairs, each step making a satisfyingly industrial ring.

The two descend deeper into the darkness, but it's not nearly as deep as Clare has first expected, it couldn't have been more than a couple of stories.

She scoffs. She's going to go outside of Everhold, find her mother, and that will be that! Perhaps she thought the people of Everhold wouldn't want to leave, and Clare is starting to feel like that's okay. "To each their own," she mutters with a tone of slight pretension, like only now she's joined the very exclusive club of free-thinking individuals among humanity; those that have escaped.

Finishing down the steps, she muses on what society outside the walls must look like. Perhaps they are great cities as well, even greater than Everhold. How silly she feels, how very pathetic she was, not even having the courage to scale the walls. She was so distracted by the bread and circuses, the work and the prestige, that she too never asked herself if it was all a false pretense. Of course, she was never lied to, she’s certain, but she was just fooled, like all the rest. It was just a set of truths held from one generation to the next, and then one day, those truths were no longer factual. The waters must have receded, and it was safe to come out from the walls. She feels sorry for them now, but knows she couldn't change their minds, not unless she could somehow hop up the other side and tell them all to destroy their houses to build a ladder to meet her. If she finds her mom she'll ask her about it.

Clare shakes her head with a mild smirk. She's sure of it now. Everything's going to be okay, and she just worked herself up. There's nothing all that unusual about this after all, she feels; just humans tricking themselves, and then not learning from the older generation.

At the bottom of the stairwell is another tight passage, of the same, recycled sand-brick, but with a bit of water at their feet. At the end of the passage is another bulkhead, this one is closed.

She stops briefly, and wonders why.

"Carrie," she asks, stepping up to the door, her feet pattering in through the water with already tired, clumsy steps.

"...System recognizes address." It drones back.

"Any idea what's behind that door?"

It clicks for a moment. "... It is 'Carrie' System's understanding that this route leads to-" it clicks again. "The part where I find out what happened to my mom. Come on," it finishes, providing a surprisingly good tonal repeat of her words just a couple minutes ago.

Clare looks at Carrie with disappointment. "I'm serious."

"...This system is also serious," it says, emphasizing the word serious with a slightly deeper mechanical tone.

She'll just have to take the dive— hopefully not literally.

Clare clears her throat and turns for the bulkhead door. The kingdom has such little metal, it's surprising to see so much of it used just to make a door; it must be for good reason. With a grim anticipation, Clare walks through the water up to the door, and places her gloved hands upon it. She feels... confident; however it would be wrong to miss the thought that if there is water on the other end, the pressure would probably kill her instantly, blasted back into the spiral staircase and divided into crimson spray.

"It couldn't really be water on the other side, could it?" She asks.

Carrie steps up at the ready. "...Only visual confirmation would tell for certain." As per its usual, the auto's tone is completely blank; it's her ultimately her choice.

"You're right," Clare reaffirms, and with a silent prayer, turns the wheel-handle for the door. There's a few loud, scraping cranks, and at once, the door's pressure into its lock mechanism subsides. It swings into her grip permissively, and she practically gasps in relief.

"Yes!" Clare draws back with a deep breath and a hop. "See! No water!" She adds as an exotic bouquet of scents flows through the door.

"...That is good," Carrie says, doing its very best to add to the conversation in some way.

Clare nods to herself with an air of pride, stepping back up to the door to swing it open. With a creak, the door floats forward, and the first of the many strokes of true horror pass through her.

On the other side of the door... is nothing.