Bullets, because my brain.
- Started out in a white room. It was like… all those movie depictions of a virtual world. White, made of tiles/blocks. Some faded in and out, impermanent.
- I stood in the center of the room and when I put my foot down it transformed from the center outward. A huge bearskin rug. A four-poster bed, some couches in front of a roaring fireplace, double doors leading out to a balcony, some other doors leading elsewhere, and a long table. Stone walls. Some narrow windows. Above, a large skylight? Showing the full moon.
- I moved to the table. Wooden, unadorned. I thought, “Oh, I can put stuff here.” Nope. It’s my command center console. Holographic panels materialized into existence, at least seven of them, one long one over the tabletop and six in a grid in front of me. The six panels show views of the castle and forest, as if cameras were placed at strategic locations. I know I wanted this setup.
- I trace the protective/shielding bindrune I made before journeying into a holo-panel on the console. Then I press my palm against it and the camera panels flash, like I had applied the rune to the entire territory.
- I can hear the wolves howling outside.
- To my left is a door. It’s wrong. I tear it down and there’s a mirror instead. I can see my reflection in my armor. I reach out and touch the surface with a finger; it ripples like water. I think about visiting the forge, then step into the mirror.
- Blackness. I’m floating. I see a light way down below me. I think about being there, and in a blink I emerge into a blacksmith’s forge. Details are hazy. I draw a line along the length of a table with my finger and a sword materializes – first made of fire, then cooling to obsidian, then shedding to reveal steel. I swing it a few times.
- Something laughs at me, a man that transforms into something like a zombie. It wasn’t in the forge before. It approaches with an awkward gait. I frown at it, flick my wrist, and it vanishes. I realize I should have said something to it instead. I feel uneasy.
- I slam my fist against the same table’s top. The basic frame of a pistol jumps out from the surface of it, but I feel exhausted. I realize I should go back, leaving my next project unfinished. I struggle to get back to my new staging area, that room with the bed and the fireplace.
- I never got to talk with the wolves.
- I put the sword on the empty wall by the bed. I think about the pistol, but decide it’s better in the forge, unfinished. I take off my helm. I come out of trance.