A Museum exhibit. An android made in the image of a big, black, Norway Rat, surrounded by her home. A casual glance would dismiss it as Down and Bottom, but secret messages are hidden throughout. Interpretation is encouraged. What things mean are up to you, though there is concrete beneath the pliable unreality.

Outside

A street, quiet and surreal. It is a city of four buildings, each with their own dumpster. Boarded-up windows dishonestly proclaim a lack of life. The doors have all been ripped off, replaced with a different colour of beaded curtain. Bits of junk lie scattered around the streets, broken televisions and ancient video game platforms, a rusted-out pickup truck, pieces of cloth and paper, buckets and shoes, sex toys and vintage comic books. Outside the street is an endless plane of dusty-grey grass, trees, and cacti in no particular semblance of sensibility.

The sky is ebony, studded with diamonds in vague connect-the-dots shapes. The moon is a thin sliver of pale green, occasionally partially obscured by indigo clouds. The few wispy clouds that do drift around the sky make it clear that the sky itself is not lit, being considerably paler than the perfect blackness they surround in. Stars wink in and out behind rich blues, creating near-hypnotic patterns.

A broken neon sign labels the Rat's Nest, a tumbledown chintzy nightclub. A simple wooden sign hangs above the Crystal Chamber. A fine restaurant turned worn down greasy spoon is simply painted with the words Dining hall. The largest, most spectacular building simply has a sign hanging among the beads of its curtain, Listening Room.

Searching Around

Each building has a different flavour, a different appeal. Not all of the symbols are out and loud, though some are. Be wary of the loud ones, they are the ones that aren't what you expect.

Despite the appearance of things, everything is in perfect order. Even when moved and reshuffled, they are in perfect order, exactly where they are intended to be.

The Centrepiece

Oracle herself. Rattus Norvegicus, known to grow the largest out of any breed of rat. In colouration, she is black. This is rare for her breed. Following is a description dump. Draw your own conclusions.

First off, this is a rat. Not a delicate little mouse. Her ass is huge, and so is her tail. Her tail is about eight feet long, muscular, and scaled. That's right, scaled. The rat herself is close to six feet tall, which is really big for even the biggest breed of rat. She's big and hourglassy, hips jiggling with a similar rhythm to her almost-comically-large breasts. Her stomach is not much smaller, but small enough to ensure that she does, indeed, have an hourglass figure by virtue of her massive ass. Has the sheer size of her butt been mentioned yet? Black rat. Big tucas.

Her face is broad, amazingly so for your average rat. Her nose comes down to a very blunt point, and somehow manages to come across as regal rather than cute or ugly. Her head is broad, ears somewhat floppy and small, orangey teeth stained brown by the cigarettes she obviously continually smokes. Her eyes are a solid, irridescent silvery colour that tends to favour pink and purple. Her curly hair comes down her shoulders and would be silky and perfect if it weren't bleached into oblivion and rather obviously dyed random streaky colours of green and yellow, with the occasional splotch of blue.

Who the hell did her clothes shopping? Probably someone considerably smaller. She's wearing this tiny shirt with a wide collar, a big hole cut out of the top to show off her sizable cleavage. Most of her rounded midriff is exposed, including her surprisingly cute belly button. Her thighs are about as covered as her chest, however. A tiny skirt barely wraps around her waist, barely covering her thighs to a point of decency. Both garments look to be close to splitting. She couldn't have pulled them on, they must have been instantiated around her.

Her jewelry is equally as gaudy. The bracelet on her left arm is dazzling gold, about three inches broad, stands an inch off her wrist, and has a tesselated triangle pattern on it in ruby and emerald. Her necklace is not much better. In her right hand at all times, she carries a perpetually half-burned cigarette in a cigarette holder that is more rat-chewed than it is cigarette holder. When her hair parts for them, she wears a pair of earrings that look big enough to rip right through the thin membrane of her ears. Occasionally, she wears even more big, gaudy jewelry.

Despite her appearance, her eyes gleam with intelligence. She seems happy enough, a perpetual lazy smile across her face unless otherwise notified. She seems decent enough, even if her mere body language implies crudeness, obscenity, and the occasional bout of spitting and swearing.