Stare WELL @ speck. Trackles

A stairwell dwelt behind the panel. It wound through only 2 twists because it wasn’t a dozen feet or so ’till we’d hit the next floor. There was a cake-y smear of Dimension across my mind; the foremost thing haunting me was how to break the bad news to Siggy. I told him i didn’t want to wear it…shit, it wasn't safe with me blasting into the Unknown. But handing it back to his ridiculously proud ass wouldn’t have gone over any better!

I could practically hear the organ weeping at my funeral: the very chords of my heart were being plucked and jangled to bewail me. I swallowed a knot in my throat. I just hoped we’d worked fast enough to not badly upset the Band of coastal Pirates’ schedule.

I decided to distract myself with my favorite old Timer. “Hey Santa, you have any elves to manufacture a pair of replacement spectacles?” I razzed, both doubtful and sympathizing. “Are you sure you’ll be able to read the proper address on the destination List?”

“I’m getting used to it. But I am kinda bummed out about how it’s going to play tricks on my precision.” He rolled through a regretful shrug. “Can't be going the rest of the journey with you now.”

I snorted, sadly. “I won’t feel as comfortable without your sophistication.”

“Hmm,” he lightly rumbled, and stopped on the steps to face me. “Looking mighty pale, son. Is it bothering you that much, the confrontation? We got out of the jam back there. Now you’ve got some knowledge of your own.” He made a circling motion at my chest with his elbow. “And nobody can ever say you haven't been a successful person.”

As if anyone would ever come to know about our zealous excursion provided by a space-warping Gatling gun & fortunate escape from a Top-secret Facility in the basement of a shack in some uncharted swamp. I felt so much better already.

“You really know how to soothe a soul,” I aimed distantly, feeling my flesh buckle under a fresh wave of dread.

Gutterson whistled stoically before chirping, “Santa has quite a touch don’t he?”

We started ascending again. “You’re a magical trip,” I obliged.

I wasn’t telling him anything new. He resumed whistling (rather awfully) until we came to a simple door greeting us. He pushed it ajar, coolly, leading the way. It opened into a poorly lit hallway. The rhythmic clicking of the ventilation system overhead felt familiar, and when we walked a little further on, so did that water fountain.

“Aha,” I enunciated, “So that’s where that door leads.” I chuckled, remembering my mad scramble to find the bathroom. “If I would’ve known it was locked, I’da saved myself the trouble and gone the other way. Wait a second. It was locked, so how’d you open it just now without a key?”

In a mock-mysterious voice and a swathe of hooey-fooey gestures, my friend answered, “I’m an Enigma.”

I feigned shock, to which he quickly added, “Messin’ with ya. Key’s only necessary from the outside. When I want to leave, I don’t want to bother with some derned key. Besides, the stairs compartment is only beknownst between ourselves and a couple other highly regarded customers.” He shot a glance over his shoulder. “Only the right people ever see the inside of the place. My place. My rules.”

Once again I felt highly esteemed, accompanied by warm fuzzies. I had doubted at first, told him upon appearance it was sub-par & not up to snuff. Then he even let me fire Heschita when he could’ve done it and assured safe passage to the Stock-room and back again. “Right, masterfully hidden unless you wish to make it known.” I beamed. “Things were scary as hell at points, especially when all the Warehouse lights went out, but looking back, it was an... asinine type of fun, and we worked it out together.

Secretly I felt I could never repay him, astonished and overwhelmed to be counted worthy in his eyes. Blazing guns! it had been a long-awaited Day to behold its wonders... (and it was partially more the treasured Exploration for not getting to investigate when I had first wanted.)

Malibu snorted, “You were a little premature in there—circumstances may have prompted me to throw you in a little early—but you proved that you can learn as you go.”

“I’m still going,” I managed to say, hedged in by a maze of brain benders, “Still processing the engulfment of a world I thought had to behave in consistent ways.” - Where were the boundaries? Which to keep, which to expand?

Ripe memories spiked in my mind: the OBEs, the symbols… & whatever that cloaked creep was. All the enigmas, their auras: sure, I’d been frantic, especially when all seemed futile; and I musta hit my head a time or two… but it was all too palpable an objective to simply be figments of my subconscious corresponding to intensified mental state. I took some hard spills, so I suppose head trauma could be a culprit. But it didn't seem likely. If it was hallucination, my imagination certainly was never THAT Spectacular. At any rate, it was inspiring! I'd try to be on the lookout for more Visitations. Then again, not every piece had been the nicest thing to experience...

“Ya know,” I suggested, pondering the structure of the next words carefully. “After being exposed to your corner of the Universe, I’m shifting back into this paltry realm. Do you know how to distinguish an illusion?”

“Illusion?” he harked. “That’s just a matter of vantage point, son. It’s come to my attention over the years, that every pocket and Attraction is valid, just swirling and overlapping like sinew.” We turned a corner and could see the Light of the Main room ahead. “Most humans are just a small fry on the Political power chain and are less actively involved, so the potency shakes immensely. And frightening.”

I wanted to snap a vehement WHY he concluded everything overlapped, but that seemed like a rabbit-hole. “I would hope it's not that complex,” I began, with a touch of frustration. Instead, I tried to press my speculations into a neat Thread of interference. “What we can say is there’s certainly Mighty forces afoot in this neck of the woods - and maybe it has something to do with you slipping between realms? You ever think you’ve overstepped a few sensitive boundaries along the way, Gutt?”

“I don’t go gallivanting to the far-reaches around the Cosmos,” he rationalized. “All the coordinates I visit orbit our Sun, and this solar system has been shown rather devoid of keen organisms. "Although," he cleared his throat nervously, “Certain Lights and shadows witnessed, have never been detained. And I don’t always know what or Who my customers employ the supplies for.”

That hung in the air as we both recognized several relevant connections.

“One thing is for sure,” I said. “That's at least two exceptions. One more incident in this little corner of the planet and we’ll be an undeniable extra-terrestial goldmine.”

“And you just want to be fairly normal don’t you?”

“No, I don’t mind pushing back at the tentacles and teeth of whatever Powers be,” I established. “I just don’t want to have my life on the line so often, that’s all.”

"Well that's wise to pace your fortitude," he pedaled. "When each and every struggle you elect to confront, is going to divide you greater than the sum of your parts."

My pride settled to a hushed glow. Gusty strokes zoomed back to me: *Higher complex than Death & deprivation... friction nor divides may be relaxed with additional pressure... Strategizing & cheering without Flinch... the revolving dice of freedom<#>* - entrenched & yielded in Torch'erreous nests, isolated little fruits I felt. Earlier the pressure had agitated me into a gobbley turkey, flapping atop the saddle of a skittish beast. Now I’d gladly let my chums submit their voices into the approaching events; the less I had to speak would be more downright rapturous. Despite the scepter restoration, mentally I was drained.

- __+_-__+_-

As we reappeared beside the Bar from the depths of discreetness, our mates were unsurprisingly, chattering about both videogames and Cultural abnormalities. Rovone & Capone could be seen engaged in Trash-talk @ the Arcade station upon the far Balcony. They didn’t even notice us step into the light. Pheo, Siggy, & Trent were not visible, but easily audible from the medical room, overshadowed by Buck's boisterous voice brimming with enthusiasm for the great attention being showered around him.

We decided not to interrupt the Arcadian duelers (for various reasons) the heaviest perhaps being that neither of us were eager to attract the Dick'tator. After a brief moment of exchanging a glance about the social depositions, we continued along the rosy carpet beside the bar counter and approached the recovery chamber. Phoenix could be heard trading wisecracks in tandem with Siggy about aquatic puns & how it would be in the best interest of certain fish to use beauty products. Gutt streamed through the Doorway saying, “Didja miss us?”

I paused behind him right in the door frame, keeping a distance & lowering the Bag, feeling out of the elements almost as bad as foreign exchange student.

Buck raised astonishedly from his mobile medical cot when he saw what I was carrying. “Holy inheritance, Bilbo Bag’guns!” Malibu too, seemed to be getting ready for a LARPing session, dwarfed by over 6 feet of twisting Tree Branch. For a millisecond, even the foliage outside seemed to lean in closer and observe with respiratory systems on hold in admiration of their distant galactic cousin.

Duds ripped a grin beneath his pencil mustache. “Righteous horde you’re hoardin’.”

Nonchalantly, I slumped the motherLode across from the door, wearied. “You’re not wrong." I replied. "It basically took a pair of wings to fetch this.”

Phoenix reported, “You’ve been gone more than half an hour. It better be Splendid.”

“Yea,” Trent ejected, from a purple chair cushion. “We might even have to trade some of that treasure with the pirates to keep them calm: cause looking at that clock next to Pyram, we hardly have 30 minutes to get to the river.”

I turned to a shelf on my left. It was 9:52 am. The Marshal Wastelayers were not a unit you wanted to delay.

“Nawha, just hand ’em a clock,” Dudley rebutted. “Not only will they gain more time, they’ll have more hands on deck!”

Nobody joined in his sniggering. Trent popped up like he’d been sitting on a hot iron and advanced toward the Sack. With glazed eyes he asked, “Pack a Flamethrower in there?”

“Request granted at great risk,” Gutts announced. “We’ll share all those momentarily; but before that,” he held out the Staff towards me. “Pyram has something to show you.” I gawked at him, wanting to shake my head but not wanting to look clueless in front of everyone, knowing he was asking me to perform the healing on Buck.

I tried to buy myself some time. “Wait Gutts, the mess is probably dried out by now. You’ll need to prep the area before I do anything.”

Gutterson looked confused. But only for a fleeting second. “There I go getting ahead of myself.” He withdrew the Scepter. “How could I be so daft? We'll need to irrigate it.”

Buck split in, “What are y’all jabberin’ on bout?”

I turned and looked square at Dudley. “We’re talking about your health.”