“Well,” Noah says to the Interviewer, “you know what’s next. Everything was broadcast. Do you want me to skip until we were ki— Oh, no, okay, we’re going to relive it. Yay.

Okay, so I had just entered the tower and as you might imagine, was really confused. I’m not sure I even noticed at the time that the tower had my name. Even after what had happened the day before, this was another level of crazy. I mean, teleportation? Another world in my bathroom? What was this supposed to be, Narnia?

I’m just glad I’d fallen asleep in my chair and was fully dressed. Normally I sleep in only my boxers.

But this was far from normal.

Instead of the bathroom I expected to be in, I found myself in a cold, damp, dark tunnel just barely tall enough to walk in.

There was literally no way to go but forward, as all that was behind me was what looked and felt like a stone wall. Though it was so dark I could hardly see anything.

I’m not sure how long I walked for, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute or so before I reached the end of the tunnel. My elation at being out of the cramped confines was short-lived as the humid chill of it was replaced by a brutal cold.

Fully clothed though I may have been, I was not dressed for this kind of weather.

At least the view was nice: I was in a snowy forest. It was dark out, but there was light enough to see clearly, though its source wasn’t obvious.

I stood there, dazed and wondering what to do, looking around at the giant, snow-covered trees that looked a lot like Christmas trees. There were even little twinkling lights.

I stared at them for long seconds before either my eyes or brain adjusted and I realized they weren’t Christmas lights, but reflections from beyond the trees, sparkling off the snow covering their branches.

I followed what looked to be footprints between the trees, the ground mostly clear of snow under their collective canopy, heading toward the distant lights.

Oh, we’re gonna go through this part too. Okay. Great, grand, splendid. I don’t see what the big deal is, it’s not like I was polluting anything.

So yes, I couldn’t wait any longer and stopped to relieve myself.

The relief however was countered by fear as the stream froze before even hitting the ground. I swore repeatedly, urging my bladder haste as it seemed the ice was creeping closer and closer. At the time the strangeness of this didn’t cross my mind. It would be a long time before I learned of the ‘enchanted’ nature of the area.

And yes, that’s the clip that took the CorCivs by storm. That was before everything else happened and anyone knew who I was, so you’d think people would have better things to watch during an apocalypse.

Anyway, the lights weren’t as far away as they seemed, and soon I could hear raised voices.

By the time I got to the source of the lights and voices, in what turned out to be a small town, I was in full-blown hypothermia.

I hurried toward the building the voices were coming from, yanking the door open with a numb hand and stumbling inside, a cloud of icy mist from the intermingling of warm and cold air preceding me.

The burst of cold from the open door must have alerted the crowd to my presence, because the chatter died as all twenty or so people inside looked my way.

It seemed like they’d been having a party before I interrupted them.

I lifted my hand stiffly and gave a little wave. “Uh, hey.” Then I just stood there, shivering uncontrollably, unable to think of anything else to add.

The people were less confused and took me in and sat me by a fire inexplicably burning in the middle of the air. I was brought a large mug of something like sweet, scalded milk by a girl named Olivia who looked a bit like Emma’s best friend, also named Olivia.

I don’t usually like milk, it’s far too baby-vomitish for me, but I was so cold I drank it for its warmth. The taste wasn’t half-bad either.

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None of them seemed all that surprised at my arrival and soon had returned to their ‘party’, which was actually an argument about what to do about some member of their town having recently gone missing.

Whether because of the milk or hypothermia, I fell asleep before learning more.

‌

∎ ∎ ∎

When I woke up—still in the chair and incredibly sore because of it—it was light outside.

I rose from the chair like an old man, my body not used to the cold nor sleeping in a chair—something I’d just done twice in one night.

The building I was in was now empty. Even the magic fire was gone, though the large room was still comfortably warm.

I headed outside, getting my first look at the place in daylight.

It was a small town with seven buildings arranged around a central courtyard. Four of the buildings looked like shops, one like it might hold apartments, another whose purpose I couldn’t discern, and finally the building I’d just come from, which looked like maybe it was the townhall for this strange little town.

It was cold, but not as freezing as the night before had been. A layer of snow dusted the ground, though the paths to each of the seven buildings composing the town were clear of the stuff.

There was no sky, but I still felt as though I were outside, seeing how the ceiling was partly obscured by clouds and seemed something like ten stories overhead.

At the time I didn’t really think of how little sense that made.

As with the night before, the light was odd, coming from nowhere, or everywhere. I didn’t know if the day-night cycle matched outside’s, but they did at least have one.

Before I could find a place to relive myself—my bladder was full to the point of interfering with standing up straight from the milk I’d guzzled before passing out—a large man who I’d later learn was named Harold found me and wordlessly showed me where I could relieve myself: a small, brightly lit room inside the townhall with floor and walls that would absorb any waste.

After that great relief, Harold ushered me inside what I’d taken to be—and which was indeed—an apartment building, with a ground level devoted to a large dining room from which pleasant smells wafted.

I was greeted by the whole town—who seemed rather cheerful despite having one of their small number go missing the night before—and sat at the only empty seat—which I assumed belonged to said missing citizen.

The group appeared to range in age from late teens all the way to a man who looked at least seventy.

I was fed a breakfast of eggs and meat—the origins of which I hesitated to question—along with sweet noodles that tasted of cardamom; something like frosted, sour donut holes; and tart juice the color of tar.

As I ate, I was struck by how odd the situation was. Here I was, eating these weird foods in this weird town with these people with seemingly bottomless appetites, in this cold, snowy place I’d arrived in via my bathroom in balmy Australia.

Which made no sense whatsoever.

Or at least, it didn’t at the time. I would later learn of all the changes that had occurred while I was sleeping.

The townsfolk had some answers, but their answers only created more questions.

They explained that something called a system, what they occasionally referred to as the eyes for some reason, had been sent to Earth to induct us into the corporate civilizations. And part of that induction was apparently a giant tower forming out of the back of my shop.

That was where I was now, in a town inside that tower, high on a mountain overlooking a valley that they called the floor or the wilds. In the distance, across the valley, was another mountain, and something else that was a destination, but not a town.

Though it was hard to see through the mist clinging to it, there was actually a ceiling even over the valley. The whole place, despite not feeling like it, was actually enclosed. Was actually only the first floor of the tower.

I explained how I had arrived here in their town, the tunnel I’d come through, and how there hadn’t been a way back.

“Aye,” Meredith, a helpful but stern woman who looked to be in her mid-forties, said. “Once you enter a tower the only way out is completion of the floor or death.”

I blinked at her.

“Don’t scare the poor boy,” Olivia chastised. Which was an odd thing to call me, considering she looked to be about the same age as I was.

“Better than letting him die,” Meredith huffed, and went back to her meal.

“Don’t fret,” Olivia told me, “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

“Fine or poorly won’t matter a whit if Jevoa doesn’t turn up,” Mattias, a remarkably pretty-man in his thirties with a voice like gravel, put in from the seat beside me.

“He’s the one who went missing?” I asked.

Mattias nodded.

“Just up and vanished,” Kaelith, one of a pair of what looked for all the world like male-female identical twins, said upbeatly.

“Pardon me if I come across as offensive, but none of you seem all that broken up about it.” I looked around at all the people eating and talking and laughing. “Or eager to find him.”

“If there’s no keymaster,” Olivia said with a slight, embarrassed, smile, “then there’s no reason for prospectors to come, which means less work for us for the same pay. And he didn’t come with us from Crownfall, so it’s not as though any of us truly knew him.”

“We spent all of an hour with the man,” Tobias, the one who looked to be in his seventies, put in. “I imagine they’ll be closing things down soon enough if he’s not found.”

“I do hope he’s all right though,” Olivia said.

“Keymaster?” I asked.

Olivia nodded. “He takes the keys you gather on the floor and combines them so you can access the stairwell.”

“Keys? Stairwell? I’m guessing you don’t mean normal keys and stairwells?”

Olivia chuckled. “No. No I do not. You have a lot to learn it seems. You’re new? A new civilization?”

“Uh, I guess so. There was a weird letter a year ago, then yesterday a mental message letter thing and then cards started raining down.” I thought of Luke and what I’d done to him and fell silent.

“Well,” I said after a moment, pushing down the memory, “I guess you better tell me everything. I really don’t want to die in here. Or anywhere, for that matter.”