In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself “The Holder of Clarity”. The worker will begin to chatter on to about their life, making inside jokes and references to only which they understand. All the while, they will walk in a weaving motion to the recreational area of the building. They will slide open a hatch beneath a table and suddenly fall silent with a grim look upon their face. You will look down into the hole, and you will see a vast number of lights flashing on and off, and you will feel berated and confused, but you must go in.
This hall seems to have no start and have no end, the lights flashing sporadically, and you will find that tiny flying objects flit in front of you, in your eyes and nose and mouth. The air will fill with a horrible all-consuming buzzing noise that does not allow you to hear even your own screams. You must only walk on, and if for any reason, the objects stop moving or the lights hold their glow, you must yell out, “They shall not know I’m here, as I have covered my tracks!” If the calm stays, you are too late, as it has already begun.
If the horrible bewilderment returns, you must forge on. In your wanderings, you will meet a door. You can feel its handle and allow yourself in. The room will be eternal, only the floor holding your mind intact.
There will be a man with his entire form ran through with long nails and stakes, every inch of his form secured. His mouth is held open, pins forcing his lips up to his face, a stake buried in the back of his gaping mouth. His tongue will write and flop at your arrival, his eyes searching over you in a panicked state.
He will respond to only one question, “Why do they take form?” His eyes will affix onto you and his tongue will hold still. In a gargling, horrible speech, he will recite to you the creation of every object, and the purpose of each. The description will force you to vomit upon every sentence, and the tale leaves most mad.
You will find a rusty and worn fillet knife in your hand. You must remove his writhing tongue with his pathetic and gurgling screams echoing through your soul. He will seem pathetic, and you will want to help him, but do not, or you will replace him.
His tongue is Object 28 of 2538. They will meet, only you shall know why.