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.