>>484,485
You stay under the bed for about eleven minutes. After around a minute, you hear the sound of laser fire, coming from downstairs. It comes again around twenty seconds later, from the courtyard this time. You hear the person next door leave and descend the stairwell outside. The remaining ten or so minutes pass uneventfully.
>>486
"Drr, drr, drr," you say to yourself. Alas, your weak, fleshy larynx is insufficient to substantiate the beautiful, mechanical noise you were trying to make.
>>487
You crawl out from beneath the bed like a young child's nightmare, make your way to the desk and stuff your pockets with as many of the files as you can. You have no idea why there are there are so many files here, but you're quite beyond caring at this point. Your pockets are bulging with cleaning rags and files, so you elect to carry the rest in your hands.
Whether your current situation constitutes "everything you need" or not is a matter of semantics, you think to yourself. Primarily, what is meant by "need"? For instance, you will sooner or later require some source of nutrition, which you don't have - yet you aren't particularly hungry right now. If need is defined only as what is required in the instant, then you do indeed have everything you need, but this definition soon runs into problems - namely, everyone currently living has what they need to continue living for the instant, which renders the entire concept almost useless. Indeed, you think to yourself, a sense of what will be necessary in the future is implicit in the idea of need. Yet this cannot work either, for all people are mortal, and hence in need of something at some point in the future - thus, no one can be said to have everything they need. You may define need as being for a certain distance into the future, but then where does one draw the line? You hope that you have everything you need, but fear that you do not.
>>488
The pause menu reads:
GAME PAUSED
You continue to have no idea what you're doing.
>>489
You stare at the text of the pause menu. The text of the pause menu stares back at you. You try to enjoy the background music, but can't help but find it rather unnerving. For the most part, it is a somewhat subdued, melancholic solo piano piece, but with a strange, steady undercurrent of grinding noises, as of pieces of machinery rubbing against one another. The melody is interspersed with odd and unexpected refrains of musical instruments you don't recognise. They don't even sound synthesised; they're more like vaguely distorted versions of conventional instruments.
Just as you are beginning to grow comfortable, the vocals kick in. "Kill them," a woman's voice instructs, "Kill them all, and then I will love you."