The word of the day is assimilation. Isn't that fun? I recall a time that happened, but it wasn't to me.

THE NIGHT is dark. One of those things that none can deny. But with all this light in the caves, in the parts where people tend to keep (to themselves), does anyone ever wonder just how dark it can be? THE WATER is knee deep. The trees climb up from its surface; they are tall and thin. Lovely night for a rowboat. A thousand maws at rest beneath the inky water's surface, but if you can't see nary a one, is it even happening?

Not a soul is glinting through that pitch blackness. Is it Cetus? You've never been before, but you know what it is to swim.

There is a thin veil between many worlds, people are wont to tell you. It's an enchanting thought. Above one, the gleaming, griming hallways of trees, glinting green in the light of nothing. Below, the thousand yard—meter?—stare of an abyss with a hundred warm mouths and a trillion warm teeth to cut through that snaking, sinking cold in your bones. Water feels wet, and the night is dark. And you are moving... forwards.

I can't explain it. Somewhere in my world, there's a ride, and it has left a lasting impression upon me. A blanket over the buildings took its place as the night sky. Starless, and featureless. Beneath it: just water. A track, leading you through a series of scenes from a movie. I'm sure you've been. Unless you haven't.

There's no track here, but you have few—if any—choices. What happens here has already happened, and it has been happening, and it will happen again. Every night. Each one as black.

I have always looked at that featureless night sky, and wondered what it was holding to the Earth?

We're not on Earth. You're not on Earth. You're just trying to keep your head above water. It's everywhere, and there's so much of it, and it's so long, it's gone on for so long—too long now. These sentences, this conjecture. It's only supposed to last two seconds, and then

Something is buzzing now. The sound reminds you of those constant ambient noises you've been drowning out. The sound of black water sloshing, the sound of birds cawing. The sound of buzzing. The sound of breath. Of breathing. Perhaps it is because the mouth and nose are so connected, but hearing has got you tasting, and tasting has got you smelling now, too. There's very little to taste. Water. Algae. Water, for the umpteenth time. If only you could taste the night, or treat it like a spice to liven up your meals. I can taste the night. I can remember those
Red

Some things tend to loop back around on themselves. Right now, I only remember the beginning and the end. Does the middle part even matter, or is it just the two of us trying to whittle down spare time? I suppose it is that traipsing crawl that composes the middle section, with every second that passes. We couldn't escape the middle if we tried. Even if it's only full of our mistakes.

But if you want your end so bad, here, you can take it: somewhere above you, one of these trees has a branch. A branch low enough that you could maybe hold it, if you promised to keep it safe. It's all junk—it's all junk! Just throw it out with the bath

There has to be a branch somewhere for you, or else you would have heard the end to that incessant calling by now. The clamor of the bells. It's so annoying, it's going to disrupt your

There was something red in that darkness, in the cloud above your head. Something reaching forward, or staying still—ready to pluck you out. You don't know what it is. Its eyes are so beautiful. There's not a body of water in these caves that could go on for this long. Can you tell I hardly dream? He was diagnosed with insomnia, but maybe it should be you. My dreams are blacker than this.

From underneath the waterfront, and carved within the birds' legs, and up above in that red moon sky, a card appears to you. The alpha and omega. If life is the space sustained between two points of total entropy, then you now see the legs which frame its face. That face you've seen before, but can't seem to recall.

THE MISSING FACE
That which watches, but evades... capture? Responsibility? Death?

You are plucked out of your own ocean. The game is set.
~~~


Kaprison wakes up.

They're already laughing. The smile pains and the croak in their throat suggest that they've been laughing for a while—maybe all night. They chortle and chuckle (and cough) their way to an upright position. A sit. And such a good one, too.

They shake. Full body shimmy, all over. Gotta get it all out. Mr. Snufflekins, is his new name now—that's the stuffed toy the crew gave Kaprison to sleep with at night. So delightful. Look at his cute button eyes! He's shaped like a lion. That's so funny! Kaprison knows they used to be one. It probably sucked, not having cute little hands to do silly stuff with. They had paws, with an extra claw for catching. Almost hands—but not quite! Catching meat, eating it raw. Kaprison dreamed about it sometimes, but they could never remember the taste. Huh!

They toss Mr. Snufflekins aside, and the dejected lion toy let out a pitiful squeak on its way to the floor. Who knows where carnies sleep—it's not my job to tell you! But this carny slept on pure quartz tonight. Last night. Is that what this stuff was? Grossular, some kind of garnet, and a calcium-aluminum mineral as it would seem. Kaprison didn't know! They were just here for the fun of it.

And the memories. Somewhere buried underneath the stone was a creature they'd encountered once, snuffling its way through their stock of hotdogs and popped corns at night. Haha! How ridiculous. They'd thought to ward it off, but, well... dealing with naughty customers was such a chore without backup! It really was a marvel no backup was to be found at the time. You'd think Alfonso's snoring would've kept the surrounding 3 tents awake for the whole night! (Was that his name?) Is that where carnies usually sleep?

Kaprison didn't know the creature's name, or much about its anything. They'd watched it lie down here for a nap, and then they'd watched it just not get up. Spooky! Haha. Sometimes the stone could just eatcha! Kaprison had been eaten once.

Something about this creature had seemed familiar. Kaprison always chuckled to themself when they got that old itch. What an old, tired, stupid life! They'd remembered something about her, or him, or whomever. Something with a glittering coat, and a bad attitude. Maybe it was all connected. Kaprison wasn't wondering! Whatever connections between them and this feline-beast had been laid to rest cycles ago. Kaprison was just happy for the nap spot!

They slid down. How delightful! The beast had made it easy. Its wings were like a slip-and-slide! A rocky one, but nevertheless. It was a high end piece of entertainment technology the likes of which the caves had never seen before. Kaprison laughed, as much as their throat would allow. Whee!! How fun it was to slide.

At the bottom lay Mr. Snufflekins, askance and askew, his head against the floor. So sad, and yet Kaprison couldn't help their bemusement. Haha, Mr. Snufflekins, that's just what you deserve! For your rotten, no-good thieving criminal life! Not only were you a sour-puss, you were a boring-puss, too! Always picking fights you never win. There's no higher insult—to be boring in a world where sense and stimulation was everything. If you have to lose, at least do it with some gusto!

And now he was split in twain, which is a funny word for two. One on the floor, and one jumping down to reach for it. Now that's funny!

Left in the care of the sleeping clownbeast was Kaprison's lion stuffed animal, and all the many treasures the beast and Kaprison now shared on account of the fact that they were roommates. No consent form required—and none signed. Kaprison would be taking their ring, however. Couldn't go anywhere without it. With all these dead-end customer service shifts, the chance to conveniently disappear was just too important to lose!

Kaprison trundled out of the entrance to the beast's hideaway. It was a great piece of real estate—led right into the juiciest part of the Carnival! But this, ultimately, is what would have made escape hard. If, that is, Kaprison had not ever-so-cleverly asked for this beauteous thing beforehand! That thing being a gift, the Ring of the Master Thief. And what could be more precious quarry than non-existent company time?

Donning the ring to sneak out, and with their goofy carny-paws slightly muffled too, Kaprison would wander away before any beloved coworkers noticed.