ETHEREAL VOID CONVENIENCE STORE    
       
                                          
  TWENTY-FOUR/SEVEN? SO CLOSE-MINDED. SO  
                TIMEBOUND.                
                                          
               
         INFINITY/INFINITY DINER        
               
                                          
  DIRECTIONS? I MEAN, I DON'T THINK YOU   
                  GET IT.                 
                                          
                 
         SINGULARITY GIFT-SHOP          
                 
                                          
          (WE ALSO SELL CONDOMS)          
                                          
  
                                          
 IT'S VERY DARK IN HERE. DARK AND BIG, A  
    FEW COLORED LIGHTS SCATTERED IN AN    
  ENORMOUS HALL. COINCIDENTALLY, THIS IS  
              WHERE I WORK.               
                                          
  I MUST HAVE EATEN A DRUG, OR MAYBE IT'S 
   JUST THE NATURE OF THE PLACE, BUT IT   
    FEELS LIKE I HAVE EATEN A DRUG. TOO   
  CONFIDENT, TOO MALLEABLE. I FEEL GOOD,  
  TOO GOOD TO BE BORED, WHICH I GUESS IS  
                THE POINT.                
                                          
 I DOZE OFF, DAYDREAM... OR MAYBE I FALL  
  ASLEEP FOR REAL. I DREAM OF WORK, AND   
  WAKE UP AT WORK, SO THE LINE IS BLURRY. 
                                          
   SOMEONE NEW HAS COME WHEN I WAS OUT.   
  THEIR BLACK SILLHOUETTE CONTRASTS WITH  
    THE HAZY NEBULOSAS MIRRORED IN THE    
   OBSIDIAN FLOOR. I TAKE THEIR MONEY,    
     WHICH I DON'T UNDERSTAND, BUT THE    
           MACHINE ACCEPTS IT.            
                                          
  FROM OUTSIDE THERE'S A BUNCH OF WHINING 
    TONES, LIKE A CHORD. THE BEVERAGE     
   FRIDGE ADDS A SHARP, DARK DRONE. THE   
    DINING AREA IS VAST AND PEOPLE ARE    
  CLUTTERED LIKE CHARCOAL ISLANDS, THEIR  
     VOICES IN ANOTHER LANGUAGE. OR IN    
   ANOTHER MEDIUM, AND I'M ONLY ABLE TO   
    PERCIEVE THE WAKE OF THEIR WORDS.