The pain coursed through her limbs, seeming to originate from a wellspring at the base of her neck. She remembered a quickly building sense of vertigo, of the whole of her perception growing fuzzy around the edges, and then...nothing. And then this.
She levered her eyes open slowly, carefully, and was greeted by an extreme closeup view of a dandelion. A dandelion, and more dandelions, cartoonishly fat bumblebees --- for what bumbler is not cartoonish? --- coursing among them in lazy Lissajous curves. They all avoided her with the polite patience of bees of all ilk.
"The fuck." The half-formed phrase tumbled out between what felt like half-formed lips.
-She carefully picked herself up off the ground, off the field of endless field dandelions. The pain coursing through her body was quickly explained as she turned around. It appeared that she had fallen from a tall barstool. There stood before her a row of them lined neatly before a bar. The bar. The one so familiar from countless nights and weekends loitering in the Crown Pub.
+She carefully picked herself up off the ground, off the field of endless dandelions. The pain coursing through her body was quickly explained as she turned around. It appeared that she had fallen from a tall barstool. There stood before her a row of them lined neatly before a bar. The bar. The one so familiar from countless nights and weekends loitering in the Crown Pub.
The bar stood alone in the field. No backing wall full of racks of bottles. No walls at all, really: beyond the bar was more endless field. No floor, either: the stools sprouted as easily from the ground as did the dandelions.
Dandelions.
That warm smell of fresh-baked muffins hung thick in the air. The warm air. The warm sun. The warm sky. The warm earth.
@@ -65,8 +65,8 @@"I'm so sorry. I came as fast as I could. Everything's a fucking mess."
"How long has it been?" she asked herself.
"About sixteen hours. I had to dump a chunk of my savings into a ticket to get here."
-She clawed at the ground in something between frustration at terror that a friend's voice was coming from her mouth/from her muzzle. "And...how are you..."
-"A mirror rig." The joyous tone of the words clashed against the tears still flowing freely. "We figured it out. Carter figured it out, I mean. She and AwDae bust everything open. Figured out how to rescue the lost, figured out how everyone gets lost in the first place."
+She clawed at the ground in something between frustration and terror that a friend's voice was coming from her mouth/from her muzzle. "And...how are you..."
+"A mirror rig." The joyous tone of the words clashed against the tears still flowing freely. "We figured it out. Carter figured it out, I mean. She and AwDae busted everything open. Figured out how to rescue the lost, figured out how everyone gets lost in the first place."
She stopped digging at the earth. "AwDae's back?"
"Yes! And the clinic where Cicero is is trying to get him out as well!"
She had to turn toward the bar again to let the shouting echo. The silence was giving her a headache.
@@ -77,13 +77,13 @@She gritted her teeth/bared her teeth. "I don't know either. What to we do now? How do we get out of this hell?"
Debarre shrugged. "Can you back out?"
She reached. Felt the draft. Smiled beatifically. She passed the field of dandelions. Passed the setting sun, or perhaps he passed her.
-And breathed the cool air of an implant clinic.
+And breathed in the cool air of an implant clinic.
There, beside her, also sitting up from the recliner and pulling off his headband, was, she supposed, Debarre. Short. Soft. Thinning hair. Ecstatic grin.
"Sasha?" The grin picked up an ironic twist. "Or Michelle, I guess. You okay?"
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