c ya laterrrr

It's late. The house is quiet. The kids are asleep. You should be asleep too. ...you're not asleep. You //are// in bed, but like every night you're semi-autonomously scrolling through the infinitely replenishing feed of message and information through the glowing rectangle of your smartphone. You've read the articles, you know full well what artifical light and electronics does to your sleep, but... the draw of the internet usually overrules that by some distance. Next to you is your wife, similarly engaged in her own distraction. Your eyes are starting to get tired, which you take as a signal to put the thing down and get some sleep. You're thinking about it, when you notice a sudden flurry of activity on social media about something going on in the city. A bang, an accident maybe. No details, no actual news, just busybodies speculating. Every time. It was like this during the riots a few years ago, you remember arguing a lot with people about it. Scroll through some of the [[posts->CheckInitialPosts]]. It's not important. [[Get some sleep->GoToSleep]].

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you start looking at the tweets. Something about a bang, a noise, an accident. It could literally be anything, and it's always nothing. People are guessing and starting rumours already, based on no actual information. No updates from anyone actually nearby, which is always telling. Idiots. Post a [[message of your own->WriteAngryTweet]] Don't post. It's late. [[Go to sleep->GoToSleep]].

It's probably nothing. Same as every time. Still, it's frustrating that people do this. Always drama. Whatever. Life's too short. You remember you have stuff to do tomorrow. You take off your glasses, rub your eyes and lie down. After a few minutes your wife finally gives up and does the same, turning the light off. You [[fall asleep->Morning]]. Same as every night.

(set: $downstairs to false)You're yanked out of sleep by the kids, action and noise and shouting piercing the quiet. Same as every morning. You scowl and rub your face, still half asleep in the midst of the instant chaos. This is why you avoid hangovers nowadays, it's hard enough being woken up like this at the best of times. You reflexively reach for your glasses and phone, and start thinking about getting out of bed: the kids are already whining about tv and breakfast, and you need a shower before work. The notification light on your phone is blinking, but that's not unusual - half your online friends and clients are in different timezones, so waking up to a bunch of stuff is par for the course. The kids are driving you crazy already. [[Go downstairs with them->GoDownstairs]]. They're OK for a minute, take a quick [[look at your phone->GrabPhone]].

You know what, you should say something, fuck it. You write: Accident of some kind apparently happening at the arena station, and idiots are already posting misinformation and conjecture. Shut the fuck up. You [[go to sleep->GoToSleep]].

<center> <img src="https://images.danhett.com/later.png" width=300> //dan hett, 2017// </center> Read some detailed information on this project [[here->DetailedInfo]]. For a list of credits and thanks, go [[here->CreditsAndThanks]]. This piece of work documents a real experience, and the what-ifs. It contains a number of graphic sections and describes experiences and issues that may be distressing. If you're unsure about these themes and issues, consider this a clear trigger warning. It was not easy to write, and depending on who you are it will not be easy to read. [[I understand.->Start]]

241 social media messages 16 missed calls 7 text messages 16 new emails [[Call mum back->CallMum]] [[Call dad back->CallDad]] [[Check your texts->CheckTexts]] [[Check social media->SocialMedia]]

(set: $downstairs to true)You troop downstairs with both boys, and go through the routine - kettle on, nappies fixed, breakfast made for them. The TV goes on. You feel increasingly shitty about this, but it buys you a bunch of time in the morning. One to fix, maybe. You stand at the kitchen counter in your pyjamas, boys content for now while you nurse a coffee and wait for your brain to come online properly. Your phone rests on the counter in front of you, and you see a few more notifications light the screen up. You wonder which project is on fire today, and [[check your phone->GrabPhone]].

You have dozens and dozens of messages, across a few networks. Hundreds altogether. hi, did your brother end up at your house? has he checked in with you? hey man, please can you message me, it's really important have you heard anything about your brother? Come on, he's always doing this shit. Smashed phone, or drunk at a party. We've been around this ride before. People do seem to be freaking out. You start opening a few more up. All the same. Some have photos of him on. OK, so he went to a concert last night and hasn't turned up. Probably drunk at a friends, but that isn't news, and doesn't explain why everyone's suddenly so concerned. If anything, he's... You scroll down, and read the next message. we've not seen him since before the explosion You feel your heart catch in your chest as the realisation dawns on you. He was at a concert in the city. Those stupid social media posts last night... something //did// happen. //He was at the fucking arena last night.// (if: $downstairs is false)[[[You run downstairs->MoreInfoRush]].](else:)[[[You run to the office->MoreInfoRush]].]

You have a few messages from your parents and family, and a few from unknown numbers. hey, call me as soon as you get this please call me hi, you don't know me but I'm a friend of your brothers. can you call me ASAP please Is your brother at your house? We can't find him. please call back This doesn't make any sense, why would he be here? And why would his mates be asking you? This is really confusing. You look at your [[phone->CheckPhone1]] again.

You have a ton of missed calls from Mum. The first one is at... that can't be right. It says the first call was at 4:37am. //Are they abroad maybe?// It rings out, no answer. You send her a quick message: hey. I'm awake now, sorry. what's going on? call me back. x You keep exploring your [[phone->CheckPhone1]].

A few of the missed calls are from your Dad. You call back, no answer. This is weird. You send him a message: what's going on? give us a ring You look at your [[phone->CheckPhone1]] again.

You unlock your phone with a pattern that you swipe into it hundreds of times a day, notification light still flashing insistently. The screen unlocks and lights up. On the screen are the most notifications you've ever seen on one device. Texts, app messages, missed calls. You mention it to your wife, who's busy getting ready. You joke - //Weird. Who died?// You start flicking through the [[notifications->CheckPhone1]].

(if: $downstairs is false)[You take the stairs two at a time, still in your pyjamas, and scrabble about in your bag for your laptop. You open it up and log in, and at the same time you turn the TV on.](else:)[Still in your pyjamas, you scrabble about in your bag for your laptop. You open it up and log in, and at the same time you turn the TV on.] The bangs, the noise at the arena. //Something happened there, what the fuck is going on?//. The news is aerial footage from the arena, nothing looks out of place. You realise it's an archive view, not live. The display flicks to footage of ambulances, policemen at barricades - this footage looks new. It's dark, it must have been from last night. The footage changes again. It shows what you recognise as the inside of the arena, from a high angle. The lights are on. The footage is shaky, clearly from a phone. People are running. Everyone is running. The newsreader's words begin to filter into your ears as you take it all in. There was an attack. The explosion was a bomb. //Jesus fucking christ.// Your hands are shaking. Your son comes over, asks you what you're doing. You snap out of it for a moment. He's chewing something and fiddling with an action figure - your wife got him ready for school, and has left. You realise she kissed you goodbye and you barely noticed. The little guy asks whats wrong. You smile, trying not to let anything seep out. //Nothing's wrong, bud, excited about preschool today? Sure I can come pick you up. Yeah, we can play Mario Kart, but we're doing reading first. Deal.// Satisfied, he wanders off. You start to turn [[back to the screens->RefreshFeeds]].

Wait, shit. You realise you're supposed to take your son to preschool in ten minutes. He's ready to go, oblivious to all of this. You notice the neighbour getting her son ready, he's in the same class, and realise you're still in your pyjamas. You go outside and quickly explain. It's awkward - you don't know her //that// well, but you don't want to miss any news. You ask if it's OK if she takes him this morning, and she seems surprised but obviously senses the panic in your voice. //Of course.// She smiles reassuringly. You kneel down to your boy's level and brief him quickly. He's so young, but you get the feeling he understands something is going on, and that's enough for him. He nods solemnly and promises he'll be good on the way. You know he will. You thank her one more time, and watch them leave. //OK.// [[You rush back inside->BackInside]].

OK. The more info you can get about this thing the better. You have your phone and your laptop open on the table in front of you, and the TV is tuned to a news channel. You begin to slowly piece together what you can glean from the messages and news. Check the [[social media feeds->CheckPhone2]]. Try a [[different TV channel->TurnTVOn]]. [[Open your laptop->CheckLaptop]].

Your social media app freezes and crashes under the weight of messages. People are waking up, seeing the news, passing it on. You try a few times and give up, your [[laptop might be a better idea->CheckLaptop]].

You grab the remote and flick through the channels. It's national news. Every channel is playing the same story over and over. This is insane. You need to help get the word out. You know plenty of people in the press, and have a good following on social media, time to put it to use. OK, first thing. You need to [[find a photograph of him->FindPhoto]]

You scour the news sites. There was some sort of explosion, they say it was an attack. There was someone playing a concert at the arena, you've never even heard of them. The show finished, there was an explosion. The messages, the ones you read. They were right, and you went to sleep. You went to fucking sleep. //No, you didn't know. You couldn't know. Stay focused, come on.// This is insane. You need to help get the word out. You know plenty of people in the press, and have a good following on social media, time to put it to use. OK, first thing. You need to [[find a photograph of him->FindPhoto]]

You open his Facebook profile to search for a photo. You're caught off-guard by the hundreds of messages posted there, all from the last few hours. Some are simply asking him to call home. Many are posts he's been tagged in, from friends sharing to get the word out. The desperation in the messages is like a punch in the gut, you have to stop for a moment and gather your thoughts. Breathe in, breathe out. OK. Come on. You need to find a picture to send out. A few different ones of him are doing the rounds already. You open his photos page and look at a few. He grins back at you from every one. [[Select the most recent photo->PickRecent]] [[Select the happiest photo->PickHappiest]]

It makes the most sense to pick the most recent picture. It's of him with his mates on the way to the show last night, so it shows what he's wearing. The photo is blurry and framed weirdly, taken on a train. They're drinking wine and grinning. Just another day in the life. He'd hate this photo, but it's definitely the one that makes the most practical sense in terms of it showing what he was wearing last night. You save a copy of the photo, open your own social media pages, and [[write a post->WritePost]].

You pick a photo of him from his profile pictures, it's a good picture that shows what he looks like well. He probably photoshopped it himself, the vain wanker. You smile thinking about it. Absolutely ridiculous. This isn't the most practical as it doesn't show what he was wearing last night, but is a better photo of his likeness. And, you think grimly, he's pretty identifiable regardless of clothing. You save a copy of the photo, open your own social media pages, and [[write a post->WritePost]].

You create an identical post for a few different sites. You include the photo, and after a bit of fiddling you settle on simple wording for the message: my brother was at the arena last night and hasn't checked in. if anyone has seen him in any way *please* contact me You stare at the words for a while. None of this is real. Exhale. [[Hit send->HitSend]].

Within seconds, the message is picked up and shared by dozens of people. You post the same message on a few different networks, and then email a quick note with the same to a few friends in the local and national press. Replies and messages start to stream in, from friends and strangers. Everyone saying the same things. //Thoughts and prayers.// //We're thinking about you.// //He'll turn up, man.// There's not much more you can do with this right now, so you pick your phone up and start trying to get hold of your family again. You feel isolated and useless. Maybe your mum has her phone on her, you should tr... There's a noise at the door. You drop everything and [[run over->RunToFrontDoor]].

You're unsure who to expect. The police? Family? Realising you're still in your pyjamas and a t-shirt, you open the door anyway. There's nobody there. You //definitely// heard a noise though... [[Look down->LookDown]]. Ignore it, and [[go back inside->BackToComputer]].

You have better things to do. You take one last look around, but there's defintiely nobody there. You head back inside and continue sifting through the messages and flicking through feeds and channels. You're lost in the screens when your phone rings. It's mum, //finally//. You take a deep breath and [[pick it up.->PickUpPhone]]

There's a note on the floor. You pick it up. It's a note, handwritten in biro on lined paper torn from a small notebook. Attached to it is a business card, from a national newspaper. The note has today's date written at the top, and begins: //To the family. // // I am very sorry to bother you today...// What on fucking earth. A journalist has found your house already. You are furious. Rush outside to see if they're still [[on the street->RushOutside]]. Forget about it, there are bigger things to worry about. [[Go back inside->ForgetAboutIt]].

She sounds relieved to hear your voice. //Not as relieved as you are to hear hers.// She quickly explains what's been happening, and a clear picture finally starts to form. There was so much you didn't know. You get the short version. She's currently with your stepdad, and your dad and stepmum, as well as some of his friends. The police have set up a huge emergency zone at the local football stadium where families of the missing have been taken. Detailed descriptions of him have been circulated to hospitals, emergency services, everywhere. Right now there's not much else to do except wait. She says the police have been amazing, even though it's been so difficult - she and your dad have had to spend a long time answering questions about his characteristics and last movements. //Any identifying marks.// It sounds noisy where she is. Everything happened so fast. Everything is still happening so fast. She says there are dozens of people missing. She sounds utterly exhausted, voice cracking and devoid of any colour. She sounds helpless. [[Ask how she's feeling->AskHerFeeling]] [[Ask how the family are doing->AskHerFamily]] [[Ask what the fuck you should do->WhatTheFuckToDo]]

You could strangle someone right now. You run outside, full of anger. How //dare// they come to your house looking for their fucking grubby story? You start to stalk down the street, checking cars, he can't have gotten far. You suddenly stop. Your phone is ringing. It's mum, //finally//. You go back inside, take a deep breath and [[pick it up.->PickUpPhone]]

You're furious about the intrusion, but there are bigger fish to fry right now. You go back inside and resume poring over message and updates about the attack. You're lost in the screen when your phone rings. It's mum, //finally//. You take a deep breath and [[pick it up.->PickUpPhone]]

You interrupt her and ask the important question. //How are you holding up?// She doesn't answer for a long time. You can tell exactly how she's holding up. She says she isn't feeling much right now. There's been no time, this is all too big to comprehend. We just need to find him. This echoes what you've been feeling. This is bigger than any of us right now. You don't know what to say that'll be of any use to you, or her. You ask her [[what the fuck to do->WhatTheFuckToDo]].

You ask how everyone's doing. She says everyone's handling it in different ways. Your stepdad has fallen back on his black humour - he's a doctor, this is his coping strategy. You stepmum is distraught, you dad is quieter than she's ever seen him. Having your family described to you is weird. You feel so disconnected. You don't know what to say that'll be of any use to you, or her, or them. You ask her [[what the fuck to do->WhatTheFuckToDo]].

//I want you guys to come here and be with us.// The request catches you off-guard. What does this mean? Why? Why now? //I'll call you back.// You speak to your sisters. It sounds really intense there. Would you just be adding to it? You keep running it through in your head. What if she wants you there to tell you the worst? Would she want to do that in person? Probably. Fuck. You call her back. Tell her you [[aren't sure->DeclineJoin]]. Tell her you'll [[be with her as soon as you can->AcceptJoin]].

//We're worried it'll be too stressful.// //Won't we get in the way?// You can hear the uncertainty in your own voice, but you know deep down you can't //not// do this. She asks again, firmly. She wants you there. OK. We'll come to you as soon as we can. She surprises you and informs you that a police car is already on the way to pick you up. You smile to yourself despite it all - the decision was made long before the phone call. She's efficient like that. There isn't much time. You tell her you'll see her soon, and hang up. You need to [[get ready->GetReady]].

You tell her of course you'll be there, and start thinking about car arrangements for you all. She surprises you, cutting you off mid-sentence, to inform you that a police car is already on the way to pick you up. You smile to yourself despite it all - the decision was made long before the phone call. She's efficient like that. There isn't much time. You tell her you'll see her soon, and hang up. You need to [[get ready->GetReady]].

After so many hours of staring at televisions and screens, it feels weird that you're all suddenly moving and preparing to leave. You're worried about what you're going into, but it feels good to have something happening in a weird sort of way. As you gather your things, you try to rearrange the house back into the pristine state you know it'll have been in this morning. It's almost funny, but you can't imagine your parents coming back to an untidy living room, regardless of what happens. You're shoving stuff into the bin when there's a loud, authoritative knock at the door. By the time you get to it your sister has opened it already. There's a policeman standing there. Like so many things today, it stops you in your tracks a little bit. There should be no reason that your parent's quiet suburban house should ever have a man in a neon jacket and stab vest standing at it's door. Over his shoulder you see he's parked a massive police estate car outside on the road. You're almost intimidate by his presence, but he breaks the illusion by smiling at you all and saying hello. You snap out of it, and [[invite him in->InviteHimIn]].

The policeman is friendly incredibly patient with you all, and as soon as he begins speaking you realise he's not just some random officer - this kind of specific thing is clearly his job. He greets you all specifically by name, warmly and confidently. He explains clearly what's about to happen, making sure to calmly answer our questions. Despite the warmth of his manner, he's also very clearly operating on a deadline, and steers us quickly into what is obviously a standard-issue script for the people he has to support all day. He gets extremely specific about making sure we've remembered phone chargers, any medicines, that sort of thing. Almost without realising, you're ready to go. The policeman confirms you're all set, and leave the house, locking the door behind you. He unlocks the car and you [[get in->GetInPoliceCar]].

You sit in the front seat. This is a strange experience. You've never been in a police car, certainly not in the front of one. It's a big roomy car, but feels small from where you're sitting - the dashboard in front of you is heaving under the weight of buttons, radios, screens, and all sorts of other equipment you can't identify. The policeman gets into the driver's seat, himself covered in a huge array of imposing-looking gear attached to what looks like a protective vest. He starts the car and slowly pulls out of the drive and turns onto the road. For a few moments you travel at regular traffic speed, and you settle in for the ride. You're about to speak, when he reaches over and flips a couple of switches on the controls - the sirens turn on outside the car, muffled inside but you know how loud they must be. You can see the blue lights reflecting off the car in front, who's moving rapidly out of the way. It all seems a bit excessive, you don't fully understand the need for the lights and sirens. You're about to ask, when he puts his foot down on the accelerator. The engine roars into life, and you're pressed into the seat as he guns the engine and within seconds pushes the car into absolutely breakneck speed. Still pressed into your seat, your hand clenches the side of the seat as you [[speed down the road->Speeding]].

You ask the policeman a few questions about the way he's driving, and he cheerily confirms what you suspected about him anticipating traffic in front of you. He explains a bit about the training, and for a while you're so interested in what he's saying you forget what it is he's driving you to. As you're talking, you're notice how strikingly odd it is that he's holding such a calm conversation with you, while driving a car at 70mph down a crowded road. You mention this to him too, and he laughs and explains that staying extremely calm under high pressure is the biggest part of the job. He goes on to explain how he's trained in dealing with people specifically in these scenarios, and how his single objective is to get you to where you're going as fast as possible, in the least stressful way possible. It's working. You go quiet again as you approach the stadium. You [[arrive->ArriveAtStadium]].

You turn around to speak to your sisters - they're pressed into their seats too, while the car hurtles down the road. The noise is deafening. You manage to mouth the words //you okay?// at them, with an attempt at a smile. They smile and nod back, but look as scared as you are. [[Speak to the policeman->SpeakToDriver]].

You pull into the stadium, and the officer tells you that he'll be taking you through the player entrance under the stadium instead of the main entrance. This seems weird until he clarifies: this is to avoid the mass of press that have gathered outside. Okay. Press, of course. //Christ.// The car follows a tunnel entrance that leads underground, and pulls up in what looks like a service basement. You're not sure what you were expecting. Someone from the stadium staff meets you, and says an awkward hello. You wonder if this person had any idea what they were going to have to deal with when they got up this morning. //The same could be asked of all of us//, you think grimly. The lift comes down, and you all get in. The policeman says a warm goodbye, smiles at your sisters and shakes your hand, genuine concern on his face. The lift doors close, and as they do so, the policeman begins talking into his radio and turns to leave. You wonder how many people he's going to race through the city with today. The lift begins to [[ascend->GoIntoStadium]].

The lift slows to a stop. You hear a soft electronic chime, and the door opens. Nothing has prepared you for what you walk into. The room is large, you can't even see it all. It's plush and full of posh tables and chairs and nice lighting, obviously some sort of hospitality suite. It is in complete disarray - furniture has been hastily moved around, and the whole space is littered with food wrappers, blankets and boxes. There are dozens, maybe hundreds, of people in the room. These are the families and friends of everyone who's missing. Around them, there are a few uniformed police offers, and a lot of others who aren't in uniform but wear ID cards, who are busy talking into radios and scurrying around. You assume these are also police officers or officials. Families are scattered around the space in groups, some gathered in circles, some pacing around. There are young couples, old people, a few children. Some are wrapped in blankets, sipping tea, talking on mobile phones. A few people are curled up in chairs, you can't tell if they're sleeping or completely shut off. The noise is the first thing that hits you. There is a constant hum of chatter and discussion, but the tone of it is muted and strained - people are exhausted and desperate, you can feel it almost by instinct. This steady background hum is puntuated - pierced - by bursts of crying, and sobbing. Wails of absolute desperation, from women and grown men. Every so often someone breaks down into fresh cries, and then as they're spoken to and calmed by families the subtle hum returns, until the next person breaks down. It hits you hard, and you stand planted in one place, unable to process the gravity of what you've walked into. You almost physically flinch with each noise. You look around. You see dozens of people, but can't see your family. There's a man standing near you, leaning against the wall. His eyes are red. He looks more profoundly exhausted than you've ever seen anyone look. He's staring at nothing. Try to [[find your family->FindFamilyFirstTime]]. Try and find someone [[official->SpeakToPolice]]. Speak to the [[the man->SpeakToTheMan]].

You make your way over to a group of what look like officers or officials, and explain you just arrived with your sisters. One of the officers steps forward from the group and shakes your hand - she's a smartly-dressed woman with an ID card and clipboard full of paperwork, and introduces herself as the assigned liason police officer for your family. She explains that she was the one who spoke to your mum about getting you here, and sent for the police car. You begin to ask questions, but she stops you - there's not much more to tell right now, but there's going to be an update shortly. She tells you your family are gathered at the far end of the room, around the corner. She offers to come with you, but you tell her it's fine - despite the professional tone, she's clearly under a lot of pressure herself. Make your way towards [[the far end of the room->FindFamilyFirstTime]]. Go back and [[speak to the man->SpeakToTheMan]].

You watch the man for a few seconds. He doesn't move. You can see him breathing deeply, his eyes transfixed in one direction. He looks like shit. You ask if he's okay. It takes a second for your words to filter into his perception, and after a pause he comes to life again, and turns to look at you. He smiles slightly and nods while he speaks. //I've been better, to be honest, mate.// He has a thick local accent, thicker than yours. You talk for a while, small talk at first. //Yeah, we've been here all day. Never been to the stadium before, no. You? Right. Yeah...// Out of the blue, he asks you who you're looking for. What a question. //Who are you looking for?// It's a horrific thing for a room full of complete strangers to have in common. You tell him you're missing your brother, that you've been at home all day and just arrived, that you don't really know much. You catch yourself talking too much, and ask the question back at him. //How about you?// He tells you his daughter is missing. She's a teenager. Her mum, his wife, is in intensive care at the hospital in the city. You're silent together for a long time. He swallows hard, fighting something back, and quietly tells you good luck. You tell him the same, and leave him to his thoughts. //Poor fucking guy,// you think to yourself. Like you're a spectator in his story. You are, in a way. You should probably [[find your family->FindFamilyFirstTime]].

You head towards the opposite end of the room, where your family must be gathered. Walking through the space is unreal. The noise and intensity of being in the midst of all this is almost too much. As you pass through and between groups of people, each one experiencing the same anguish and panic, you feel like you're intruding on a few seconds of something intensely personal and private, over and over again. Being around strangers who are experiencing this level of intense emotion is overwhelming, you try to block out the periphery as you notice your own family gathered near the end of the room. You have a nagging worry in the back of your mind that you're still spectating on this. Should you be in pieces? Is there a right or wrong way to respond to this? It feels too big to respond. You feel almost guilty for being so detached. But being detached is the only thing you can do right now. //Keep your shit together. Come on.// A few of your family notice you and your sisters approaching, and let the rest of them know. You and spend a long, long time hugging - you're not really a hugger - and asking how everyone else is doing. You almost laugh at how British you all sound. //Never mind little old me, how are you?// You [[sit down with them->SitDownWithFamily]].

(set: $interactions to 0)This is the first time you've physically been with most of your family since this began. It feels really, really weird. You and your sisters were the last to arrive, everyone else has been here for hours - everyone looks so strung out. Sitting in the middle of this group feels really strange. Everyone's responding in different ways. Your mother is moving around a lot, talking to everyone. Your stepmum is quiet, wrapped in a blanket. You dad is quiet. Really really quiet. Your brothers friends are in similarly conrasting states. It's a weird mix of people. You're not sure what to do. [[Speak to your parents->StadiumParents]]. [[Speak to your siblings->StadiumSiblings]]. [[Speak to his friends->StadiumFriends]]. [[Speak to the liason officer->StadiumLiason]]. [[Do nothing->StadiumDoNothing]].

(set: $interactions to $interactions + 1)(if: $interactions > 2)[You are interrupted by some kind of disruption at the end of the room. A police officer is calling everyone together. You [[join the group of people->JoinGroup]] gathering around him. ](else:)[You start trying to piece together what happened to your parents today. They've been here for so long. They tell you their day started insanely early. Word had gotten out almost immediately about him going missing, but they were all asleep. By the sounds of it they've been here since the early hours of the morning. No wonder they all look so exhausted. They go on to describe how intense the questioning has been, from the police initially and then from reporters and strangers. Nobody can ever be prepared for this, but it sounds like they've had a really rough time. You almost feel guilty for not being there to share the load somehow. The press intrusion in particular is something that's really made this more difficult for everyone. You make a mental note to not let that go when this is all over. [[Speak to your siblings->StadiumSiblings]]. [[Speak to his friends->StadiumFriends]]. [[Speak to the liason officer->StadiumLiason]]. [[Do nothing->StadiumDoNothing]]. ]

(set: $interactions to $interactions + 1)(if: $interactions > 2)[You're interrupted by some kind of disruption at the end of the room. A police officer is calling everyone together. You [[join the group of people->JoinGroup]] gathering around him. ](else:)[You notice the police liason officer from earlier standing nearby, and go over to ask her a few questions. She's really polite and attentive, but is really hesitant to give you any information. She re-iterates that there's going to be a briefing soon, and that they're doing everything they can. //We're doing everything we can.// It's another one of those phrases you hear on television isn't it. You know it's absolutely true, you can see it happening in front of you. It's frustrating not being given any more information, but there's not a lot you can do. [[Speak to your parents->StadiumParents]]. [[Speak to your siblings->StadiumSiblings]]. [[Speak to his friends->StadiumFriends]]. [[Do nothing->StadiumDoNothing]]. ]

You stay quiet. Activity and commotion continue around you. The noise becomes a constant as you sink into your thoughts. You're interrupted by some kind of disruption at the end of the room. A police officer is calling everyone together. You [[join the group of people->JoinGroup]] gathering around him.

It takes a few minutes for everyone to assemble. People are still wrapped in blankets or crying or unable to move, and they take some persuading by their families. You get the impression that this is important. To your surprise, the officer who shouted everyone together steps away, and is replaced by an older and clearly much more senior policeman. He's wearing a police uniform, but it looks far more dressy than a normal policeman's uniform. He's clearly in charge. The officer waits for quiet, or as close to quiet as is possible with so many people still in tears and sniffling and talking under their breath. He begins to speak. His tone is clear, businesslike, and he imparts his words with clarity and transparency. He explains it is his job to provide updates to you all. He explains what has happened at the arena. He explains that almost all the people in hospitals have been accounted for. He explains that the scene in the arena is now one of recovery. He explains and explains and explains Although there are still some people who made it out and haven't been identified, the overall scenario is that he is talking about bodies. Fatalities. Not casualties. He doesn't say it directly, but the implication slowly becomes clear, and does so to those assembled at different speeds. With each person's realisation, fresh howls and cries erupt. He re-iterates that there are living survivors to be identified too, but not many. He moves on to talking about recovery, morgues, and the process for identification of deceased. While delivering these words his voice does not waver. He tells you it is dangerous and a mess in there. He tells you that this will be a long process. Hours, all night maybe. //We are doing everything we can.// There's that phrase again. You tune out. The room is now noise, people are crying and shouting and moving around. It's too much. Your stomach knots and for a moment you feel like you're going to throw up, but it passes. You need to get the fuck out of here. You stand up and head for a set of double doors that have daylight streaming in through them. The doors lead out into [[the stadium->SitInStadium]].

You emerge into the stadium. The daylight is just starting to turn to twilight, the sun is low in the sky and you shield your eyes from the pink, hazy glare. It's a surreal feeling. The silence is deafening in comparison to what you just walked away from, you can almost feel your ears ringing. The entire stadium is completely deserted, pristine and untouched, aside from a few people dotted around the stand you're in. You pause for a moment, then walk down a few rows and sit in a random seat. There is nobody near you, and it is quiet. You take a long breath and let it out slowly, as you've been doing for much of today when you need to stop and take stock. //Take stock.// What the fuck is happening. This is too big to take stock of. There is a stillness out here that you didn't know you needed. Bathed in hazy fading sunlight in a deserted football stadium, the quiet is only spoiled by press helicopters circling overhead, and sporadic wails and crying around you and from back inside. None of this feels real. It's too surreal, too big, too much. Another deep breath in, and slowly out. //What now?// [[Check your phone->CheckPhoneStadium]]. [[Speak to your parents->SpeakParentsStadium]]. [[Sit a while->SitAWhileStadium]].

Your phone has been on silent for a long while, since you get here pretty much. Out of habit more than anything, you take it out of your pocket and stare at it. The number of messages is unfathomable to you. It is in the many thousands at this point, you can't even add it up. //Heard from your brother yet?// //Just want you to know you're in my thoughts, I hope you're okay// //Hey, sorry to disturb you, I'm a journalist from the paper. I was wondering if it would be OK to chat briefly about...// ... Fuck //off.// Scrolling briefly through the messages it becomes even more clear to you that there are a significant number of these messages that are journalist requests in one form or another. They sound so empathetic at first, you almost can't pick them out. There's too much to read, and even if you could read them all, you're not sure you want to right now. So many people are operating on the idea he's missing but alive. But... hearing what you just heard, it's hard not to start expecting the worst, deep down. You feel bad for even daring to think it. //Snap out of it. Come on.// You look up from the phone and notice that your parents are outside now too, further down the seating from you, discussing something intensely. You [[go over->SpeakParentsStadium]].

You go over to your parents. They're discussing what you heard back there. The consensus is clearly that this will be a long process, possibly through the night and into tomorrow. Your Dad and a few of his friends think it's more practical to go home and try to regroup a little, grab a shower, eat. Your Mum thinks it's better to stay here, just in case. There's food and supplies here in a pinch, and you'll hear any news first. They both look fucking exhausted. [[Agree with your Dad->AgreeDad]], it makes more sense to go home. [[Side with your Mum->AgreeMum]], your place is here.

Your parents notice you sitting alone, and come over. The consensus is clearly that this will be a long process, possibly through the night and into tomorrow. Your Dad and a few of his friends think it's more practical to go home and try to regroup a little, grab a shower, eat. Your Mum thinks it's better to stay here, just in case. There's food and supplies here in a pinch, and you'll hear any news first. They both look fucking exhausted. [[Agree with your Dad->AgreeDad]], it makes more sense to go home. [[Side with your Mum->AgreeMum]], your place is here.

(set: $leaving to true)You agree with Dad - this is going to be a long process, and there's little that can be done right now. A shower and an attempt at rest is what people need right now. A few others want to stay, but most are in favour of heading home for a few hours to get themselves together. You see the logic on both sides, but your heart is telling you to go and regroup a little. People begin to gather their things and say their goodbyes. There's still time to [[change your mind->ChangeToStay]]. No, you're sure. You should [[call your wife->CallWifeStadium]].

(set: $leaving to false)You agree with Mum - if new information comes to light, you'll get it first. It's hard being here around all this, but the priority is to get information as soon as possible and not do it second-hand. A few others want to stay, but most are in favour of heading home for a few hours to get themselves together. You see the logic on both sides, but your heart is telling you to stay here. People begin to gather their things and say their goodbyes. There's still time to [[change your mind.->ChangeToLeave]]. No, you're sure. You should [[call your wife->CallWifeStadium]].

(if: $leaving is true)[You call your wife and explain to her that you've made the decision to come home. She sounds like she's been crying. //Should I be crying?// You tell her you'll see her soon, and hang up the phone. People are looking ready to leave, so you [[join them at the elevator.->GetLiftDown]]](else:)[You call your wife and explain to her that you've made the decision to stay at the stadium to wait for news. She sounds like she's been crying. //Should I be crying?// You tell her you'll keep her in the loop, say goodbye, and hang up the phone. People are looking ready to leave, so you [[join them at the elevator to say goodbye.->SayGoodbye]]]

(set: $leaving to true)You think about it some more. It's very intense here, and you're not sure you can take much more of it. Home isn't far away, you can get back here quickly if need be. A shower would be good right now. You look over at Mum. A few others are staying, she won't be alone. You think about it for a moment and change your mind - you decide to go after all. You should [[call your wife->CallWifeStadium]].

(set: $leaving to false)You look at your Mum. She looks exhausted and utterly helpless. This doesn't sit right. You think about it for a moment and change your mind - you decide to stay with her. You should [[call your wife->CallWifeStadium]].

You stand by the entrance of the stadium, as people start to filer downstairs to join you. After figuring out the logistics of who's driving who, you zip up your jacket and head out into the darkness. Your head is fuzzy from exhaustion at this point, and your mind wanders as you walk towards the car park. You walk quietly through the massive, deserted car park. It's gone really cold, and you zip your coat up as high is it will go, shoulders hunched against the wind. //What a day. What a thing. I should call my...// Your train of thought is interrupted by a shout behind you. You turn around and see that everyone has stopped walking, and is looking back towards the entrance. They stand still, silhouetted against the bright artificial lights of the stadium entrance you just came from, all facing the same way. A policeman is gesturing at you to come back. Something's happened. You break into a run and head back to the [[stadium entrance->LiftBackUp]].

You finish saying your goodbyes to those who can actually face it. Some have already left. Finally everyone who's opted to leave gets into the lifts, and begins to filter out into the night. You stand at the window upstairs and watch them disperse towards their cars, becoming harder and harder to pick out in the darkness. Your mind wanders, this is the quietest the environment has been since you get here. You're deep in thought about everything, and almost don't notice that they've all stopped walking and turned around. They're listening to someone. A hand touches your shoulder. It's the police officer from before. She says you need to go with her, right now. Over her shoulder you see that the rest of the group have come back in from outside. You [[follow her->FollowHer]].

The whole atmosphere has changed. You know what's coming. Everyone must. The police officer has become quiet and efficient, earlier smile gone, replaced with gentle but firm commands to you and her colleagues. She leads your group back into the depths of the stadium, taking a long route around the big room where the other families are. Along the way you pass a few officers and officials, who make eye contact with her but not with any of you. It makes you feel intensely uncomfortable. They know. You feel like they know you know. You stop at a particular nondescript door, and are [[ushered inside->GoInside]].

The familiy liason officer is waiting for you. You're all full of questions, but she holds her hand up and asks if you can wait until everyone's together. She leads you to the lift and you squeeze in. Nobody talks on the way up. The doors open and you join the people who'd chosen to stay. They're as silent as you. As a group, you [[follow her->FollowHer]].

The room you've been taken to is clearly some kind of hospitality space for people with a lot of money. It has two large tables and lots of expensive soft seating, and is decorated tastefully but opulently - the walls are lined with framed artwork and there are shelves adorned with crystal glasses and expensive-looking decorations. One of the walls is entirely glass, and looks out over the stadium. It's completely dark now, the pristine football pitch and deserted stands illuminated by the stadium's enormous floodlights. You can't imagine a scenario where you should end up in a room like this. Being in this room doesn't sit right with you. People drink, socialise, watch the football here. You feel like you're trespassing in someone's house. Everyone filters in, and take up seats around one of the big tables. People are hugging, holding hands, or sitting alone. Nobody speaks. You [[sit down->SitDownTold]].

You don't move. The room went from silence to noise and chaos and crying, and you don't know what to do. You've known this news coming for most of the day, deep down. But nothing prepared you for the moment you're told. You walk to the other side of the room, away from the familiy members crying and wailing, and stand completely still. You stare out of the window, across the near-deserted football ground, lit by floodlights. Tears fill your eyes, you fight them back and swallow hard. You shrug off a squeeze on the shoulder from someone, you can't even tell who it was. You still don't move. Your clenched fists relax as you force yourself to listen to the police officer who's still speaking behind you. She's on-script but still crying. There's not much more to do or say right now. Out of habit at this point, almost ludicrously in the midst of everything, you [[pull your phone out of your pocket once more->CheckPhoneTold]].

The room went from silence to noise and crying and chaos, and it's too much. You walk out of the room, back into the featureless white corridor. You lean against the wall, and realise you're still clenching your fists. You relax your hands, and exhale. Out of habit at this point, and in the midst of everything, you [[pull your phone out of your pocket once more->CheckPhoneTold]].

The phone is still overloaded with thousands upon thousands of messages. //Have u found him mate?// None of this feels real. You don't remember much of the next hour or so, the atmopshere is intense as everyone begins to try and digest the reality of what's happened. You're quietly shephered away from the big room where the other families are waiting, and wonder who's worse off right now. There's nothing to do now but leave. This place has served it's purpose for us, and all you can do now is go. In small, numb groups, you quietly resume the path into the now-dark outside world that you tried to follow an hour ago. Almost no time has passed, but everything is different now. You get into a car with your parents, and [[drive away into the night->DriveAway]].

The journey home is silent, save for your mother crying. Your stepdad drives cautiously, and pulls into the drive of their house carefully and without hurry. The engine goes quiet, the lights turn off. All of you hesitate for a moment, then get out of the car. You embrace your mother, she says nothing. Your shoulder is damp with her tears. You promise them you'll be back in the morning, and watch as they go inside. Your car sits on their driveway. Home isn't far, but you're unsure. [[Drive home->DriveHomeLate]]. Leave the car, and [[hail a cab->GetCabLate]].

(set: $droveHome to true)It's late. You're profoundly tired, and in all likelihood in shock. But you need to get home. You sit in the drivers seat, key in the ignition. Get home. Go. You take a deep breath, start the engine, and cautiously [[set off->Driving]].

(set: $droveHome to false)It's late. You're profoundly tired, and in all likelihood in shock. You need to get home, more than anything, but in this state driving seems like a reckless decision. You walk back to the main road, and [[hail a taxi->GetInTaxi]].

You drive home, mind wandering. The enormity of this hasn't even remotely hit you. How can it? You wonder how everyone else is doing, how you're going to tell people, what the next steps are fo... A car beeps at your aggressively, you snap out of it. You realised you'd zoned out and run a red light. //You stupid dick//. You slow right down, open the windows, and cautiously drive the rest of the way focusing intensely on the road, and not on the thoughts you were swimming in. You arrive home, pull up, and turn the engine off. Your wife is waiting inside. You expected to feel nervous or whatever, but you feel nothing right now. You open the front door and [[walk inside->GoIntoHouse]].

The lights are on. Your wife runs over before you can even take your jacket off, makes a fuss. She's crying. You're not. She's filled with questions, about you and everyone and the stadium and... You stop her. //Just give me a minute.// You realise you've not eaten, and open the fridge. You stare at it's contents for a while, then give up and close the door again. You opt for whiskey instead. That feels like what shocked people do. Sitting on the couch, you field some of her questions, but really there's not much more to tell right now. The exhaustion suddenly feels like a weight on you that you can't shake off any more. There's nothing left. You go upstairs and fall asleep before you can even get undressed. You [[sleep deeply->NextMorning]].

The driver makes small talk about the weather as you drive through the darkness. Yeah, you're right, it has been warm. Hope it lasts. Yeah. Yeah me too, a white Christmas would be great. The conversation trails off, and you go quiet. The tiredness is overwhelming, and you're more sure than ever that you made the right decision to not drive yourself. You arrive. You give the driver far more than the fare, telling him to keep the change as you're jumping out. You watch him drive off into the night, and turn to look at your house. Your wife is waiting inside. You expected to feel nervous or whatever, but you feel nothing right now. You open the front door and [[walk inside->GoIntoHouse]].

You snap awake. A morning like every other, but not at all. No morning will be like the others now. The usual noise comes from downstairs: the kids shouting, the TV on, the kettle clicks. Physically rested but mentally drained, you quickly put on a change of clothes and [[go downstairs->GoDownstairsNextMorning]].

The kids are loud, content, and busy munching away on bananas and toast in front of the TV. Your wife is with them, but her eyes follow you. You sit on the couch, still groggy from sleep. You sip your coffee. Your mobile phone has been turned off all night, but is charged up. You can't imagine the weight of messages that will no doubt be waiting on it. Nobody knows yet, outside of the family. They will soon. [[Turn the phone on->TurnPhoneBackOn]]. [[Leave it off for now->LeavePhoneOff]].

The phone powers back up. You set it on the table in front of you and finish your coffee: it begins vibrating, a small pulse for every notification. Hundreds upon hundreds of messages begin to synchronise and filter onto the device. Thousands, maybe. And every single one asks a variation on one question: have you found him yet? //Yes.// The promise you made to your parents is at the forefront of your mind now. You promised you'd be there. You quickly grab a few things, and start to explain to your wife that you need to go and be there. She cuts you off. //I know.// You kiss all three goodbye, grab your bag, and (if: $droveHome is true)[get in the car.](else:)[leave the house. You wish you'd driven home, but at the same time it feels like you made the right choice.] It doesn't take long to [[get there->GoIntoMums]].

You can't imagine what's waiting for you on the phone. None of it really matters now. The promise you made to your parents is at the forefront of your mind. You promised you'd be there. You quickly grab a few things, and start to explain to your wife that you need to go and be there. She cuts you off. //I know.// You kiss all three goodbye, grab your bag, and (if: $droveHome is true)[get in the car.](else:)[leave the house. You wish you'd driven home, but at the same time it feels like you made the right choice.] It doesn't take long to [[get there->GoIntoMums]].

The house is weirdly busy. You're not sure what you expected, but it wasn't this level of action. You spend a long time hugging and conversing and catching up, you don't even recognise some of the people in the house. More arrive, relatives from fairly far away who jumped on the first flight they could. Everyone wants to be here. Your mother is unreal. Endless cups of tea, everyone sorted. Like nothing happened. You wonder how long this can last. By now you've had your phone on for a while, and still the messages and notifications pour in. Although nothing was loudly announced, word has started to get out. Friends are starting to chime in, unsure of what to say, the message switching from enquiries to condolences. There are more messages than you can count, and still most of them are simply asking where he is. People should know. You begin to [[compose a message->ComposeAMessage]].

You're unsure what to write. How do you even begin to verbalise this? Write something [[long and detailed->WriteLong]]. Write something [[clear and concise->WriteShort]]. [[Don't write anything->WriteNothing]]. They'll find out eventually.

You hestitate for a while, and then start to write a long and fairly elaborate message to share. You begin: as you no doubt know, my brother was among the people missing after the attack in manchester yesterday evening. this is the most difficult thing I have ever had to write, and... No. This isn't right. Just say it. You delete what you wrote, and write [[quickly and honestly->WriteRealMessage]].

You hesitate, and make a few attempts at a succinct message. my brother was killed No. he died. I don't know what to do. They sound so crass when read back. This isn't right. You delete what you wrote, and write [[quickly and honestly->WriteRealMessage]].

You hesitate, and then think twice and put the phone back on the table. How can you possibly write anything that will feel okay? You watch message after message come in. People are so worried. Everyone is distraught with concern. You take a deep breath and decide to say something. For a million reasons, people need to know. You write [[quickly and honestly->WriteRealMessage]].

You sit very still for a long time, looking at the rectangular block of glass and plastic and electronics. This little device was your window into the catastrophe, and then when you got closer it became almost the sole means of transmission and reception while this was unfolding. You need to write something. This time you don't hesitate. they found my brother last night. we are heartbroken. [[Leave the room->LeavePhoneInRoom]]. [[Watch the phone->WatchPhone]].

You can't bear to watch. The phone stays on the table, face down. You [[walk away->WalkAway]].

You feel so helpless. //What do I do?// She replies almost instantly to this question. //Go and be with your sisters. They're at our house. You need to stay together. We'll keep you as up to date as we can.// She's right. You're going crazy here. They need you. You need them. Your mum has to go, someone needs her for some more info. She tells you not to panic too much, and reassures you she'll keep in touch closely. The phone goes quiet, notifications and messages silently lighting up the display. You take a deep, deep breath in, and let it out slowly, eyes closed. Come on. Go. You snap out of the thoughts you feel like wallowing in, and get busy packing a rucksack with laptops and chargers and essentials. You get in the car and [[drive->DriveToHerHouse]].

You arrive at your parent's house, the driveway strangely devoid of cars. Of course it is, they're at the stadium. You go inside. Your sisters are in the living room, gathered around the TV, glued to phones as you've been all day so far. //This is a fucking television show.// You swap stories and speculation, and make awkward and wildly inappropriate jokes about what might have happened. You're trying to laugh through this together in some way, but you feel deep down that all this is underpinned by a shared sense of dread about how today is going to unfold. After a while, someone goes to get food from the store across the street. The kettle goes on, cups of tea are distributed, drank, and refilled. The TV offers no further information, and over time you notice the reports are looping, re-iterating the facts you've already been given, and refreshing the questions unanswered. The notifications and messages continue to pour in, you stay glued to your laptop answering and reading and hoping for any meagre crumb of an update from someone. The volume of well-wishes is amazing but you're almost guiltily frustrated that you've having to sift through the noise to find any practical info. The phone rings. It's your mum again. You answer quickly, without even a hello. //Any news?// She doesn't give you any information, but [[makes one request->WantsYouThere]].

Almost immediately the little device erupts into continuous notifications. The replies stream in, too quickly to read them all. You don't even pick it up, you just sit with the phone on the table in front of you, unable to move, staring the electronic manifestation of instant outpouring from hundreds of people you will never meet. Try to [[read some of the messages->ReadSomeMessages]]. Leave the phone on the table, and [[walk away->WalkAway]].

The response to your brief tramission are scrolling almost too quickly to read. You glance at a few, but you can't do it. There are already too many. This is too much. You turn the phone over, place it on the table, and [[walk away->WalkAway]].

The next few days pass in a blur. So much happens you can hardly comprehend it. Your phone is unusable for days under the sheer weight of messages. Family and friends stream in and out of the house, in and out of your existence and back again. The journalist requests don't die down, but become more empathetic. It becomes hard to filter them out every time. The kids are young enough to be mostly - thankfully - oblivious. You don't tell them much right now, but you get the feeling they sense something is wrong. You haven't cried at all. A [[few days pass->TimePasses]].

Morning again. It's been... you don't know how long. You've lost track of time lately. You rub your eyes, exhale, and stare at the ceiling. You can hear the kids playing downstairs, same as every day. Daylight invades through the curtains. You're wearing yesterday's clothes. The room is a mess. It doesn't matter. There's a vigil today, near your parents house. Like so much of this, you're unsure what's supposed to happen at a vigil. There's going to be press there, and you've cautiously accepted that this is part of your reality now. Everyone wants a piece. Your son comes in, dives on the bed, snapping you out of it. He's a bundle of energy like every four year old. //Cheer up, breakfast time!// Hard to argue. You [[get up->GetUpVigil]].

Later that day you drive to your parents' house, which has over the last week become the de-facto epicenter for everyone. Friends and family land here, reporters bang on this door and no others now. Flowers arrive, some with cards, many without. During the afternoon the house begins to fill up, and the atmosphere takes on a surprisngly celebratory tone. There's beers and selfies and music, like everyone's getting ready to go on a night out together. You suppose they are in a weird way. Someone hands you a t-shirt. On the front is an amazingly funny illustration of him, with fake five-star reviews around it. [[Put it on!->PutTshirtOn]] [[Politely decline->DoNotPutTshirtOn]].

Screw it, you put the tshirt on. It's a bit too tight and is the precise opposite of everything you wear. And he'd find it hilarious. You look around and realise everyone's wearing the same shirts. You tweet a photo of yourself in the tshirt. "I look like I'm going on a fucking hen do. Thanks bro." It felt like the right thing to do. You've been cracking jokes and being an idiot about so much of this, and to an outside observer it might seem crass. To anyone who knows you, or knew him, the inappropriate is only appropriate. The vigil doesn't start for a few hours, but you could [[go there a little early->VigilEarly]]. Or, maybe it might be better to [[wait for everyone else->VigilLate]].

You decline, and then feel bad when you look around and realise everyone's wearing the same shirts. Fine, okay. You put it on, with a shirt over the top, buttons open so the design is visible. Comprimise... You tweet a photo of yourself in the tshirt. "I look like I'm going on a fucking hen do. Thanks bro." It felt like the right thing to do. You've been cracking jokes and being an idiot about so much of this, and to an outside observer it might seem crass. To anyone who knows you, or knew him, the inappropriate is only appropriate. The vigil doesn't start for a few hours, but you could [[go there a little early->VigilEarly]]. Or, maybe it might be better to [[wait for everyone else->VigilLate]].

You decide to use the quiet time to head to the park where the vigil will be held. Walking down the street alone, you feel weirdly out of place in your hen-do shirt - these work better in groups, surely... You get to the park, and find the right place - an entire field has been marked out for the vigil, there's room here for thousands of people. //Are we expecting thousands?// Around the periphery, people are setting up PA systems and microphones, lights, and a sort of makeshift stage. Like every component of this experience so far, this thing is much bigger than you thought. You find a quiet spot and sit in silence for a while, watching people put this together. It's so quiet. You get the feeling it won't be soon. You [[were right->Vigil]].

You decide to wait until everyone's ready. An hour or so later and the dozens of people scattered around the house begin to naturally filter out towards the park. You walk with your sisters and parents, and like so much of the time you've spent together in the last few days you chat idly about not very much. Banal everyday conversation about nothing has become a cherished resource for everyone, it seems. By the time you arrive at the park, there are a few hundred people gathered. Music plays. It already feels crowded, and you get the feeling it'll get much busier. You [[were right->Vigil]].

It won't be starting for a little while, so you mill around checking in on people. A hand taps your arm gently, and you turn around - it's one of the journos that asked for a few minutes of your time earlier, a local paper. They were nice and quite respectful initially, and you understand they have a story to tell, so you accepted. It's really busy, but you should have a little time to [[talk to them->TalkVigilJourno]]. Although, maybe it's better to [[put them off for a while->DeclineVigilJourno]].

This is the only time they'll get you before the vigil starts. Not knowing what is in store for the next few hours, you agree this might be a good time. You find a quiet spot, increasingly hard to do as people stream into the park. Along the way, you're stopped three or four times by old friends, workmates, strangers. //Sorry for your loss. If you need anything, you know where I am.// //Thanks man, appreciated. So good of you. It's been too long.// Finally locating some quiet, the journo consults their notes as a cameraman gets into the position and begins filming. //Try to look at me and not the camera, pretend it isn't there.// The interview is quick, the questions expected. You hate doing these, but people are interested. Uncomfortable with cutting a sad figure on televisions, you make a small quiet decision to not do any more of these after today. Final questions answered, the camera is clicked off, and the journalist and camera both thank you, and //sorry again for your loss//. OK. You look at your watch. It'll be [[starting soon->VigilStarts]].

You feel bad, but politely decline to speak. You're conflicted about all this, still, and it feels strange to stand in front of a camera re-iterating the obvious. //yes, it is sad. very sad. others are here, they're sad too.// There's so much more to say, but not now. You make a note to contact the journo in a few days when the dust settles. She's really nice about it. You look at your watch. The [[vigil starts soon->VigilStarts]].

The vigil is incredible. By the time your family start to speak, there are truly thousands of people standing in front of you. It passes by in a blur. Your family take turns to speak, to offer tribute, thanks, and more. You were asked to speak earlier. You declined. You're not stranger to speaking to groups of people, it's not that. It's just... you don't know how to even verbalise it to people. It's not a thing you'd be good at. You're confident but internalise a lot. You don't know how you'd go if you tried to talk about this to a group of people with emotions running so high. Instead you stay passive, watching everything unfold from the sidelines. It was the same when you were kids. As the sun begins to set, the talks finish. Music plays. His music. You fucking hated his music. He hated yours. Worlds apart. It's perfect. As the enormous crowd begins to disperse and spread out, small pockets of light begin to take shape as candles and flowers are laid in groups. People gather, sing, cry, or just stand and be present. The next few hours are spent milling around, trying to say hello and thankyou to more people than you can count. You almost feel guilty for cutting people off to keep moving, you're so conscious of forgetting anyone. By the time the vigil feels over, it's dark and beginning to get cold. You're still wearing that ridiculous tshirt, and only have a thin shirt on. You shiver, and take a final look at the scene in front of you before turning and leaving the park. You walk back to your parents house alone. Everyone gathers there like usual, it's a big house with a well-stocked fridge. After a few hours people disperse from there too. You're more drunk than you should be, and jump in a taxi quietly, without any goodbyes. [[Time passes->MoreTimePasses]].

**What is this?** This hypertext game documents my experiences this year during the Manchester terror attacks, in which I lost my younger brother. It tells the actual story, and also uses the interactive fiction medium to offer branching alternative routes and pathways based on my what-ifs and afterthoughts. **How does it work?** This work has a single endpoint, and is linear. It cannot be won or lost, just navigated. I also made a number of design decisions in order to tell this story respectfully and appropriately. Firstly, I stripped out all identifying names and locations - this piece of work is about the personal experience and not the event itself. Secondly, I purposefully removed the back/next buttons that many IF pieces have - making difficult choices and having to stick to them is part of the deal. **Why does it exist?** It exists because I needed to write this down. It exists in this form because I didn't want to write down a linear re-telling. More specifically, this project is the first part of an ongoing series of experimental videogames that document this experience. Currently this endeavour is being self-funded, with some help from Patreon supporters who as supporters gain access to prototypes and notes and a bunch of other stuff. The finished works themselves will always be given away freely to everyone. More about this project, and it's offshoots, can be found <a href="http://patreon.com/danhett">here</a>. **Why is it called 'c y a laterrrr'?** Although I intentionally removed all traces of names and locations from this piece of work, the title is an exception. It should be obvious from the way it's shown as an image, but it was the last message I recieved from him. **This sounds like a difficult thing to read.** It was a difficult thing to write. And it won't be for everyone. If you're unsure, please don't read it. I was unsure too. I still am. **Can I support this work?** Yes. I'm currently using Patreon to support a small portion of this ongoing project. Supporters there at any level also get access to the entire creative process - sketches, prototypes, thoughts, everything. The final games will always be released online for free, they're currently hosted at itch.io where it's also possible to choose your own price for the games, but this is entirely optional and they will always cost nothing. **I have a question/comment.** Great. Head to my <a href="http://danhett.com">website</a> and you'll find a contact form, I am all ears. Go [[back->INTRODUCTION]].

**This hypertext game was written in Twine by Dan Hett, with the help and support of a lot of people.** Enormous thanks to: - Everyone who read draft versions of the game, and offered such constructive feedback from the outset. - Patreon supporters, particularly those who used the platform to share ideas and insights as well as just pitching money in. - The past and present crew at FutureEverything for their support. - The amazing Twine authors and community for making this software and being such inspirations. Particularly Anna Anthropy whose work is a huge inspiration on this project. Go [[back->INTRODUCTION]].

The velocity you're moving at is terrifying, it is insane to you that a car should move this fast on a regular road. He's in complete control, weaving in and out of oncoming lanes and traffic that parts in front of you as the siren blares. For a while you can't understand why he's taking the route he takes, seemingly driving in strange directions and shifting the position on the road constantly. You realise after a while that he's not driving around where the traffic //is//, he's anticipating traffic massively in advance and driving around where the cars //will be//. You can't even begin to keep up, but he's clearly in perfect control of the car despite the high speed. You're still terrified. [[Speak to the policeman->SpeakToDriver]]. [[Check if your sisters are okay->CheckSistersAreOkay]].

The police officer is the only person in the room who isn't family or friends. She's still holding her notes, which she busies herself with checking and re-checking as everyone takes their seats. You can tell she's not checking anything. It's occupying her hands. She's nervous. You know what's about to happen. You know what you're about to be told. You hold your breath instinctively. She beings to speak. She doesn't hesitate. She can't. They found ID in the pocket of one of the first bodies they pulled out. She continues speaking, but nothing else is audible to you over the erupting wails and cries of everyone in the room, and the blood pulsing in your ears. Your hands are clenched into fists, they ache. You don't move. The police officer is crying now, any remaining professional detachment has crumbled. [[Stay->StayPut]]. [[Leave->Leave]].

The next few weeks are some of the most difficult of your life. The first few days were raw, but expected. Nothing prepared you for what happens after that first few days though. The city itself went into deep mourning. A poet held thousands of people rapt with just a microphone, and the crowd burst into song afterwards. A sea of flowers takes shape in the square. Nothing else is in the news, on people's breath. On a smaller scale, your family and friends begin to diverge in how they respond. There are whole days lost to nothing but grief, and some days taken up with practicalities. Your know your parents must be dealing with a lot of things unseen to most of you - the police are with them a lot, particualrly in the first few days. There are so many things that need to be unpicked and dealt with when someone dies in the 21st century. Account, money, property, people. It begins almost immediately and doesn't stop for a long time. At home, you internalise like always - the kids don't know, and you imagine they're too young to understand what's going on. However, your oldest child perists, he knows [[something is wrong->SomethingIsWrong]].

You and your wife agonise for along time about what to tell him, if anything. He's four, but a bright kid. Perceptive, smart. You don't believe in patronising or lying to children, even this young. On the other hand, //he's four//. Honestly is one thing, but you're wary about doing some damage to him if you do tell him. It doesn't feel like the kind of question with a correct answer. Tell him exactly [[what happened->TellWhatHappened]]. Tell him what happened indirectly, but [[not why->TellSome]]. It's too much, [[don't tell him anything->TellNothing]].

You decide to be as truthful as possible with him, up to a point. You tell him that the reason you're sad because his uncle isn't here any more, because he died. It was an accident, and his uncle got hurt, and sometimes when people get hurt or are sick it's too much, and that person dies. You don't tell him why there was an accident. You can explain death to a four year old, but the idea of terrorism is utterly beyond what you'd ever tell even an older child. He stays quiet while you tell him, but says he understands. It's difficult second-guessing what effect this is going to have on him. More [[time passes->MoreTimePassesTold]].

You decide not to say anything about it - he's so young. You think back to when you were so small, and how much you remember about... well, anything. You also decide that this arrangement isn't forever, or even medium term. In a few years when he's old enough to comprehend any of this, you'll tell him. It's difficult second-guessing what effect this is going to have on him. None of this is in the handbook. More [[time passes->MoreTimePassesTold]].

You decide to be as truthful as possible with him, up to a point. You tell him that the reason you're sad because his uncle isn't here any more, because he died. It was an accident, and his uncle got hurt, and sometimes when people get hurt or are sick it's too much, and that person dies. He stays quiet, but tells you he understands. It's difficult second-guessing what effect this is going to have on him. More [[time passes->MoreTimePassesTold]].

The funeral won't be for weeks. Your brothers body is in a morgue, and won't be released for a long while. It doesn't seem right, but the way all this happened means there's a lot of work to do for the police. The next few weeks are strange for everyone. You're in limbo, unable to have closure, trapped between the event and the ending. Like so many of the families involved, you've become a person of interest - journalists are still hounding you for a story. You do one quick interview with the local paper, with a reporter that both you and your brother knew personally. Everything else you say no to, it's all the same thing: //tell us the story. tell us how horrible it's been.// None of that stuff felt like something you wanted to repeat in so much detail. It doesn't feel like a worthwhile thing to do. The mornings begin to feel the same, day in, day out. Another morning. You're downstairs with the kids, when your phone rings. It's the police. You [[pick it up->PickUpPhonePolice]].

It's the police officer who was with you that day at the stadium. She's been assigned to your family now, and has been the first point of contact between your family and any official news or press, that sort of thing. She's been amazing, with all of you. You exhange the usual polite hello-how-are-yous, and ask what you can do for her. You're not sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn't what she said. //Would you like to visit the arena?// She explains that the site of the explosion is now clean and clear, aside from the damage to the building. It's safe, and would be a private thing per family, allowing as much time as you need. You're completely lost for words. You tell her you need to think about it. //Understood.// You thank her, put the phone down, and sit very quietly. Part of you is hesitant. Could you really go back to the room where your brother, and so many people, died? Would you gain anything from it? But then, perhaps this is exactly what you need to do. You know the arena inside-out from so many concerts there, but can't even visualise where he was when it happened. Would this allow some closure? You call your family, they've had the same offer. Some have said yes, some no. Some are on the fence. This is nothing but a personal decision. Call her back and say [[yes->VisitYes]] - you'll go to the arena. Call her back and say [[no->VisitNo]] - you don't want to go to the arena.

You're going to do it. It takes a long time to reach the decision, and really you're doing this on instinct - it's going to extraordinarily difficult to do, but this is a unique chance to close things in your head a little. And who knows what else. But you have to try. You have to see. Your mother calls, and you tell her you've decided to join them and go. Although she's decided to do the same, she asks you if you're absolutely sure, deep down. You're sure. [[You want to go->YesVisitConfirm]]. Your instinct is telling you you're unsure. [[Reconsider->NoVisitConfirm]].

You can't do it. You'd be closing the distance between you and the attack to zero, both phyiscally and emotionally - your gut feeling is that it would be a step too far. Seeing the physical impact of the attack, the place it happened... The decision feels final. This is such a personal decision, and you know some family members have accepted the offer. Your instinct is telling you not to do it, and that's all you have right now. A few days later, the day arrives. Your mother calls in the morning and asks if you're sure you don't want to go. //This is the only chance you'll get.// You're sure. [[Don't go->NoVisitConfirm]]. This is the only chance. [[Reconsider->YesVisitConfirm]].

You're sure. You can't do it. Although this opportunity will not extend beyond today, it doesn't feel right. Your mother understands when you explain, completely, and says she has to do this. You wish her luck, and say goodbye. [[Time passes->PostArena]].

After wrestling with the decision for a long time, you settle on going, and confirm with the police that you'd like to accept the offer. A few days later the scheduled time arrives without ceremony. Your mother and your sisters have said yes, along with a few of his friends. Your father opted not to go, but was really understanding about it being such a personal decision - it's been impossible to predict how anyone will respond to any of this. You're collected by a police coach, and taken to the arena. On the way, an officer reassures you that there's going to be nobody else there, and no time constraints. This genuinely does reassure you right now, there's a knot in your stomach, and knowing that you're going to have time and space in there settles your mind slightly. The coach arrives through a side entrance to the building, and drives into a large service bay. This space is clearly used for loading in huge concert equipment. As soon as you step off the coach, you're struck by an enormous sense of deja-vu. You've never been here before, but you can't shake the idea that you have. After a few moments you realise - this place is strikingly similar to the service entrance you were ushered through on the day you went to the stadium to join your family. Both spaces never designed to be public, both used as makeshift privacy routes before going into something intense. It's a really weird feeling. Everyone's finally ready. You're [[led upstairs->ArenaUpstairs]].

... ... **I always assumed you're not supposed to break the fourth wall when it's something serious, and yet here were are. I hope you're doing okay, reader. You made it through.** I'm sorry this story doesn't have an end. Stories are supposed to have ends. But the truth is, this isn't really a story. There's no ending because much of this hasn't ended, or can't. More //stuff// happened, of course. There was a funeral, finally. An argument, inevitably. A large amount of admin, surprisingly. But that stuff isn't for here. It doesn't matter. I don't know what path you took to get here. One of the paths is mine. Many aren't. That doesn't matter either, in the long run. The only thing that really matters is that these words and thoughts are somewhere. OK. We're done. c ya laterrrr. Reset the game by going [[here->INTRODUCTION]]. Read some detailed information on this project [[here->DetailedInfo]]. For a list of credits and thanks, go [[here->CreditsAndThanks]].

Being here feels wrong. You're walking as a group down the enormous corridor that circles the entire arena. You can't quite put your finger on why it feels so jarring being here, and then it dawns on you: it is //silent//. You've only ever been in these corridors when they're full of people, noise, music, //life//. You used to come here as kids to watch the basketball, and you've been to more concerts as an adult than you could possibly count. Devoid of people, you realise how cavernous and imposing this building really is. Every noise echoes. The lights and signs that adorn every surface feel vulgar and out of place without people filling the space around them. The police escort guides you into a small hospitality room, which looks out over the arena. It is empty and still, and lit up. There is a stage set up towards on end of the space, and you realise it's the stage from the concert that had played before the attack. As with the corridor, you're overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the place when viewed as an empty space. The small room you're in is quite high up, affording the same sort of viewpoint that was on all the news footage. Thousands upon thousands of people running from this place. You truly can't imagine. A police officer comes into the room, and lets you know that you can go into the main space when you're ready. You don't know if you'll ever be ready. But you have to see this through. //You have to do this.// [[Go in->GoIntoArenaProperly]].

You're not sure what you expected, but it isn't this. The lobby is a huge space. You've been here many times, but as ever it was always full of people. Empty, the space is cavernous. It is oppressively silent here, which feels at odds with how big the room is. Nobody else is present except your small group. You can hear your own footsteps echoing back at you as you walk into the centre of the room. The space is completely clean. Every table, chair, sign and object in the room has been removed. Despite this, the damage to the space itself is obvious and striking. Every surface is scarred and marked by an uncountable number of shrapnel impact marks. Glass panels are shattered, intricate spiderwebbed patterns surround holes where bolts and shrapnel passed through. Metal surfaces are dented and buckled, sometimes literally torn inwards as particles punctured the thin surfaces. The stonework on the walls and ceilings bears dozens of marks that look like the bullet holes you see in films. You stand planted on the spot, turning slowly to take it all in. A security camera looks down at you, glass lens shattered. You can only imagine what it saw that night. All evidence. You know someone will have had to watch that footage. All the footage. You truly can't imagine. Approaching the centre of the room, you [[look down towards the floor->ArenaLookAtFLoor]].

Compared to the devestation around you, the floor looks comparatively clear. You weren't sure what to expect, but it wasn't this. The flooring is entirely covered in polished stone tiles. At your feet, there is a small patch of recessed roughness, where the shiny outer layer has been blown away, revealing dull matte stone underneath. This is where it happened. This little circle of damage, almost unnoticeable beyond a short distance, is where the explosion was. You look back up and around at the damage to the walls, and for the first time realise that the explosion itself wasn't large, but the destruction from the shrapnel that surrounded it was. The strangest thought passes through your head. //How cruel.// The damage from an explosion is what you imagine when you see these reports on the news, but the shrapnel... it's not even something you'd considered. It's the only word you can think of. Cruel. There is something else on the floor, that you finally begin to [[comprehend->LookAtRoses]].

On the floor around you, there are red roses. You cannot begin to imagine what this space was like in the aftermath. The police will have been diligent and thorough in taking evidence and documenting the scene, and then when that was done, the room was scrubbed clean and restored. And in the midst of this chaos, in the midst of this impossibly complex and unfathomably difficult process, the locations of the victims were marked. A rose lies on the floor where each victim was found. They are concentrated in one area at first, close to the centre. There are one or two that are an impossibly large distance away. It takes your breath away to see the victims visualised so directly. The markings are symbolic but placed accurately. You don't know how to feel, knowing that you're privy to information about victims other than your brother. Like you're invading the privacy of someone else by seeing where their mark is. You swallow hard and look again. One of the roses is different. There is a rose lying, like so many of them, within six or seven feet from the explosion. It has a small tea light burning next to it, which was lit in advance for your family's visit. That one was him. You stand very still, for a very long time. Seven feet. It is almost no distance at all. That's enough. You need to [[leave->LeaveArena]]. One more thing. You [[kneel down->KneelDownArena]].

You take a final look at the scene, as if to capture it in more detail in your mind. You know deep down there is no detail of this that won't be etched into your memory forever. //Breathe in. Breathe out.// You turn and walk back to the entrance, without hesitating. You're not sure if this experience was good for you or not yet, but you know it's over. You're the last to leave the room. The policeman closes the door behind you, and you rejoin your family. [[Time passes.->PostArena]]

You kneel on the ground, as if in prayer. You aren't sure why, but you do anyway, feeling slightly self-conscious. The shallow explosion crater lies at your feet, and beyond that lies the rose with the candle burning next to it. You press your hand to the ground. The floor is shiny and cold to the touch. Hesitantly you move your hand forward, and onto the rough area of the impact crater. This ground is cold too, but rough and irregular. For such a shallow mark, such a small cosmetic piece of damage, the destruction is denotes is impossible to comprehend. You're very quiet for a moment, completely still with your palm flat against the uneven surface of the damaged floor. OK. Standing up, you notice you're almost alone in this cavernous and silent room, save for the police officer standing near the door, respectfully looking downwards. You turn and walk back to the entrance, without hesitating. You're not sure if this experience was good for you or not yet, but you know it's over. You're the last to leave the room. The policeman closes the door behind you, and you rejoin your family. [[Time passes.->PostArena]]