Phase Q/Days and Nights
You go. And go and go and go.
Through swarms of flashing yellow and red lights. Over hills of sound waves and rolling emotional fields. Despite the large plants and animals and synthonts that pop up in your path. You go.
After many days and nights – 71,637 to be exact – you find yourself at a fork in the road.
“What the dark do I do now?” you ask yourself in confusion.
Flip a coin. Left. Go.
You carry on, unconcerned with logic or wisdom. No time for thought now. Time for action.
Like a darkin’ animal.
As you rage on through the spatiotemporal neohelix, you wonder to yourself why it always seems so hard to get from point A to point B.
You check your map again.
“Huh.”
It looks different than the last time you looked. Even the geometry of spacetime looks different. You must have changed the settings accidentally while you were going.
Anyway.
You press on, through the h-time and the y-time, as they are now called. That’s not what you learned in the public guide. They must have changed it. Probably found a new rule.
“Hurry up!” Your left half thinks to your right half. Ever since the split, you’ve felt of two minds. Well, four, depending on how you count. But anyway, your hemispheres converse.
“What’s the rush?” asks Easty.
“We’ve got a long way to go!” says Westy.
“But we don’t know where we’re going,” objects Easty.
“Still, we’ll get there faster if we hurry,” retorts Westy.
You spin on. You roll on. You twist and you turn on. It feels good.
“Wait a sec, what’s this?” you ask yourself.
One of the less familiar parts of you, one that you’ve only known for a few months or years and that you haven’t spent much time with yet, replies: “what’s what?”
“Yes, that’s what I’m asking,” you say to yourself.
“Now, I’m not sure whether you’re referring to me or to some other part of your planetary experiences that has to do with form or activity or whatever.”
“Well, I’m not sure if there’s a difference between the two,” you say.
“Are we even talking about the same two things? We should be sure that we’re on common ground before we begin digging into the matter,” the other part of you says.
“I’m not sure how much that will really help. Maybe it makes more sense just to carry on now, and then figure out if we’re on the right page later?”
“Well, what is it that you actually mean by ‘the right page’?” You now begin to feel that this is your better half.
A thought strikes you. It hurts.
“You know,” you say, spurting copious streams of red hot flowing lava. “I’m not sure what I was going to say. I’m kind of confused. What do you think we should do?”
“Well,” says your better half.
“Oh yeah, that reminds me. How many different ways can you divide me in half?”
“That’s an open question.”
“Take a guess.”
“Five.”
“No.”
“Five million.”
“Warmer.”
“What the dark?” your other half asks.
“What the dark,” you agree.
Phase Q: An interactive adventure.
