Phase Q/Dusk to Dusk

Floating through the vast endless eons of emptiness, nothing stirs.

Except for a few vague, idle thoughts.

“What if.” The world seems to wonder.

“What can we do?” you ask, pleadingly.

“Huh?” the world answers.

“You said that there may be a way.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“That.” The world seems quite final.

You yearn for your friends, your allies, at this point even your enemies would be nice.

“Can you tell me what the plan is?”

“All right,” the world gives in.

You wait.

Nothing happens.

“Hello?” you ask.

“Yeah, hang on, I’m just dealing with one other thing, then I’ll be right with you.”

“Oh, OK.”

You wait a while longer.

Still nothing.

“Are you doing anything?”

“Yeah,” says the world. “In progress.”

Impatiently, you tap your toes.

Tap, tap, tap.

Still nothing. You look around impatiently.

Tap, tap, tap.

You listen carefully. All you can hear is the tapping of your own feet.

Waitaminute.

Tap, tap, tap.

Aha!

Looking down, you see beneath your feet a floor. A wooden floor. A wooden floor against which your foot is tapping.

“Oh, thank you!” You exclaim, to the world.

As you feel your foot tapping against the world, you start to give it a certain rhythm. You start with some samba, try some bossanova. Now you’re grooving.

Tap, tap, tap.

Well, it sure beats nothing, having this something. Even if it is just a little piece of wooden floor.

“Say, uh.” You wonder.

“Yes?” answers the world.

“Do you think you could come up with a bit more than this? I mean, not to sound unappreciative or anything. I really am truly grateful for this wonderful gift you have given me. This piece of, uh, wooden flooring.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, but. I was just wondering if, maybe, perchance, could you do you think maybe also come up with something else? A bit more of a thing here?”

“Oh, right. I’ll get right on that.”

The music of your foot tapping fills your ears. You laugh, you smile, you practically scream and shout and yell with joy. The simple rhythm, the tappity tap, the tactile sensation of having something material out there, beyond just yourself. Something to interact with. It’s the simple things in life, you think to yourself.

“Um, er,” says the world.

“Yes?” you say.

“There’s an, uh, issue.”

“What is it?” you ask.

“Well, so, I’ve been working on coming up with something else here, as you know.”

“Yes.”

“And.”

“Yes?”

“Well. It, uh, it’s sort of coming out different than I thought.”

“Fuck,” you think to yourself.

With a flicker, a squadron of Futuristas appear out of nowhere. They perform a technical marvel in synchronization, then disappear again. Rapidly appearing and disappearing, the world alternates between nothingness and madly contriving Futuristas.

After a while, the flickering stops.

“So?” you ask the world.

“So what?”

“So, can we do anything else?”

“Well, at present, no.”

Whatever

You rematerialize. You ponder. You sing and dance. And you rematerialize again.

Amid all this frenzy of activity, you feel all around you myriad possibilities.

Everywhere, in every direction, whether you look or listen or feel or intuit, you just know that there is a plethora of opportunity.

And all you have to do is decide. And then rematerialize. And then there’s a lot of follow-up.

You kind of like the simple way of doing things that they have on the Island. It’s an appealing lifestyle. You know, sit around the campfire, chat, dance, play games. There’s something in you that really wants to join the tribe. You already have your tribal features. Surely the businessman will welcome you, like the two of you talked about in private.

Although, it would be a bit sad to give up on the mystical possibility intrinsic to that other sort of wild place. You don’t know exactly what you would do there. Hey, you don’t even know exactly what there is. That could pose a bit of a challenge. In fact, you’re not quite sure how you’re conceiving of it, since you thought you shouldn’t be able to interact with it from outside. Hm, maybe you’re still at that place? If you can even call it a place. Hm. Confusing.

Beyond that, you just have vague memories. Thoughts drift through your mind. Seemingly disconnected thoughts. You hear ghostly echoes of distant spacetimes. Wherewhen were they?

You don’t know.

However, a vague unsettling feeling fills you. When you contemplate many of the other worlds where you could rematerialize, you have this kind of pain in your stomach. Something seems amiss.

Probably best to select something at least somewhat understandable.

You summon the sprite.

Through whatever nondimensional route, your current form splits apart at the particles. An aura of light spreads out from your being. It forms into the sprite. You wonder if that’s what you look like when you rematerialize in a different world.

“Hey,” says the sprite.

“Hey.”

“So, what’s up?”

“Well, I was just thinking. I’d kind of like a bit of peace and quiet, after all those wars. Yet, I don’t really want to throw away all those interesting if exotic dreams I’ve seen. And I’m a bit scared of some of the chaotic loofydoofy I’ve seen elsewhere. What do you think of my trajectories?”

“Interesting,” says the flying faery. The world around you dissolves.

You have a kind of clarity, of vision and thought. Suddenly, you know.

The sprite disappears.

You sit and wait in the garden. A smile crosses your face. It slowly spreads from your mouth, through your cheeks, to your glowing eyes. Your whole face seems to smile. Your body picks up on the vibe, uplifting. You almost levitate subconsciously.

Light from all around, from who knows where, seems to beam in, covering you in a warm blanket of love.

You remain vaguely aware of the distractions in the outside worlds. For now, you decide to spend a little while glowing in this interworld.

And then!

Phase Q: An interactive adventure.