I come to, confused. I’m in a dark room, it seems way too echoey in here… My head is pounding and I can see colored lines running through my vision. It looks like a heartbeat monitor… Whose heartbeat? Mine? Yes, my heart is beating, I can tell because my head throbs with each beat. I blink a few times, but the line won’t go away. The floor feels cool and a bit sticky underneath me. I try to sit up and realize just how bad I hurt. I can’t move, what’s wrong with me? I can feel my dress, and it seems like I have a rope around my wrists. I give an experimental tug. Yep, I’m definitely tied up. Why? Where am I? I raise my head, and the movement is too much. I vomit on the floor. Ew. I hear something loud slamming into the ground nearby and I flinch, but it doesn’t stop. It’s only when I see a pair of boots in front of me that I realize it’s only someone walking, but my hearing is enhanced. I turn off my passive extra senses, and everything dulls a bit, thankfully. I can think past the pain, at least a little now.

“Come miss, you’re awake, now. Sorry we ‘ad to mess you up a bit. Let's get you propped up and get you a glass of wa’er.” The boots say. I blink and look up. Not the boots. The man attached to them. Or, are they attached to him? I still can’t think. A pair of gloves grabs me and sits me up against the wall. Thankfully not in my vomit. I assume it’s a wall. I can see just fine in the dark, but everywhere I look there are these spots and a line like when you stare at the sun and then close your eyes.

“‘Ere’s a glass o’ wa’er for ya, miss.” The voice says again, and I see a cup in front of me. I manage to raise my eyebrows, even though it hurts. My hands are still tied together, with a rope attached to my ankles, and I’m not sure how I can drink right now.

“Don’t worry, it's not poisoned, but it does have a painkiller in it. ‘Ere, let me ‘elp you drink it.” The cup is put to my lips and I nearly gag as I swallow, but I manage to drink it. I don't think I’ll be able to keep it down long though.

“There’s a good lass, the painkiller should absorb quickly, so don’t worry about toss’n your cookies after aboot 5 minutes, it’ll still ‘elp you some.”

I feel my stomach settle for a couple minutes, and am able to hold it down longer than the 5 minutes the boots said I need, or was it the gloves? Right. Man talking to me. It does ‘elp, I mean, help, some with the pain, but my thinking feels like I’m five again, drawing trains in the clouds. Because that's where they belong.

“Lassie, you’re comin’ ‘round better than others, think you might be good in a few mo’e ‘ours.” The man says, and I look up at him. He’s shorter, well weathered, and muscled, sandy hair, and a bristly beard, not a full beard, more like he hasn’t shaved in a week. With the colored lines in my vision though, I can’t make out much more yet.

“Who, where..?” I ask after a moment.

“You’ll learn all that and more la’er, once you can think, don’ worry, we’re not aboot to tortcha ya, but I’m not supposed ta talk to ya aboot stooff, Lassie.”

He stands, and I see the boots walk away. They’re rather shiny, I notice. Shiny and pretty and blurry and… What’s wrong with me?

“I’ll be back in a couple ‘ours wit’ some food Lassie, try and rest oop, if ya can.” I lean my head gingerly against the wall, feeling a flash of pain. I remember someone stepping out, covering my mouth with their hand, and then, pain, in my skull and nothing. It’s all a little unclear, and I don’t remember, maybe that’s not how it happened? I had my bug, my new jeweled bug I bought, and, did a man come up to me? He, he wanted to see it, I think. But did that happen after I got hit? How could it have? It’s all still fuzzy, and I close my eyes. When I open them again, the boots are back, and my head is much clearer now, my vision is good. It still hurts some, but I feel much better.

“‘Ey Lassie, you look much be’er now, here’s some food and wa’er, you’ll be going to the council soon.” The man with the black boots says, and cuts the rope that attaches my hands to my feet. I stretch a bit, and he places the food on my lap. I quickly ask KT to scan it, and once it confirms that there is nothing in there that should affect me, no drugs or anything, I eat it. When I’ve finished, he pulls me to my feet, untying the rope from my ankles, but shakes his head when I raise my wrists hopefully.

“The council wishes to see you, after you have been cleaned up.” He says and leads me to a side room where a woman is standing. He closes the door behind him as he leaves. The woman looks me over.

“Morphing belt, please demorph it,” She says firmly. I don't want to, but comply after a moment. She unbuckles it and points at a tub in the middle of the room, steam curls off of it.

“Sit.” She orders, and I obey, feeling like a child for the second time today.

She starts washing me, combing my hair and all-round straightening me up. I resist for a moment, then sigh and give into her ministrations.

“You are done being washed.” She states, and helps me stand up and step out of the tub, then she dries me off, attaching a magical pair of handcuffs to my wrists before cutting the wet rope. She rebuckles my morphing belt around my waist, and details an outfit for me to wear. I follow her orders, and a silky floaty dress appears, full of ruffles and lace. It’s almost as fancy as the first lady we saw on arriving here, and I raise my eyebrows at the mirror.

“This fancy? Really?” I ask, and she nods, sitting me down and doing my hair. It takes a few minutes, but soon it is up in a pile of curls on my head, woven through with a small silver chain. My head is still a little tender, but she is gentle as she pulls my hair up. She comes around me, studies me for a moment, then pulls out a collection of brushes and paints. She powders and colors my face, then nods, declaring me done. She points to another door, half hidden by a curtain.

“Through that door, and down a straight hallway, the end is where the council is waiting for you. Giant metal doors, you can’t miss them.” She directs, and I reluctantly nod and stand.

“Umm… what then?” I ask.

“The council will speak to you.”

“What do I say?” I ask. “Why am I in chains?” Why am I here at all?

“Answer their questions first, and they will let you ask some towards the end.” She points again, shooing me out.

As I walk down the long hallway, I try to reach out to Trigger in my mind, and a spike of pain shoots through my head, making me stumble. I bump into the giant metal door, and it swings open a couple of feet. I look inside and want to turn and run, but I know I can’t. I slowly inch forwards into the large room. There are 10 people, all on elaborate metal chairs. Thrones might be a better word. Each one is a little bit different from the others. One of them turns towards me.

“Ah, you have arrived. Welcome.” The rest of the council turns to me. I freeze. Too many people, too big of a room, too much. What do they want?

“We have noticed your magical signature and cannot find any records of you existing. As magic is rare in this world, any magic users are readily spotted.” One of the men says. He is older, with a silvery-colored beard.

“And if there are no records of you, you must have appeared here somehow.” A younger woman continues. Her hair is bright, fiery red, and her chair is nearly the same color.

“Space magic does not permit world-hopping.” A young man dressed in deep blue with a short haircut states. I stand there, somewhat confused. Are they asking me questions or just discussing things? I get my answer when one of the women on the side clutches her head, seeming to be in pain. She leans forward, gasping for breath.

“She’s blocked, I can’t read it.” She gasps from behind the curtain of black hair. She is wearing a plum-colored dress, I notice.

“Must be a very solid block to cause pain on that scale.” A man in all green states. His chair is a bright silver color, and seems to be much… Twistier, than the others, more elegant loops than clockwork gears. The black-haired woman nods, not saying anything, and straightens, attempting to regain her composure.

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“So,” The green man states. “You are a capable mind blocker, a magic user, though not an extremely strong one from your signature. You are also able to appear on this world.” I blink. Does he want me to say yes?

He leans forward. “Who, and what, are you?” I stare at him. That’s rude, to ask what I am.

“I am what you just said?” I say, hesitantly.

“Perhaps.” He states. “What else are you?”

“A… human.” I don’t like lying, but they kidnapped me. I think I'm justified in lying in this case.

“Hmmm…” He says slowly. “What are you capable of?”

“Some magic.” I say. I keep my voice as flat as I can, avoiding giving too much away. “Why do you want to know.”

He folds his hands and rests his chin on them.

“We are the Council of Ten, we deal with all magic users, and persuade them to help our planet.” Creative name, I think, but resist saying it out loud. I sigh.

“As you have noticed, much of this world functions with magic, you were captured while purchasing one such item. Making these items is time-consuming and somewhat arduous, but rewarding, the duties of a Maker pay well. Most magic users in this world work for us, generating and distributing these items for the public.”

“So, you want to convince me to join your company of magic builders?”

Nods flow around the council room. “It would help ease the burden on others,” remarks the man in the blue attire.

“And you would be rewarded very well for your services.” The woman in red adds.

“Those who work for us are taken care of for life, medical and other services are paid for.” This is the man with the silver beard. It’s dizzying to keep track of everyone. But the money doesn’t motivate me, especially not with Trigger around. Not that he’s here right now. But he will be soon. Right? He has to come for me…

“In case you don’t have the exact magics used in the making of these items, all other magic forms are still useful, we always need the other types as well, for distribution, public image, and the like.” I blink in confusion, the room is swirling much more than it should be.

The black-haired woman stands, walks to me, and places a hand on my shoulder, then looks at the council. “She needs some more time to process, let us adjourn until tomorrow. I will take care of her.” The rest of the council members nod, and turn away from us. I blink. What just happened? And… What does Trigger think? I just disappeared. I can’t remember if I contacted him before I was knocked out or not, It’s all still a jumbled mess of images. I contemplate it, trying to remember what happened as the woman leads me out of the room and down a few halls. I tell my AI to record and begin mapping as much of this as it can.

“My name is Aliah, I am the psychic on the Council, serving as the lie detector and mental manipulator. I do my best to explain to the Council what a person is thinking or feeling, especially if they are incapable of expressing it themselves.” She explains as she leads me to a door at the end of an elaborate mirrored hallway. She opens it, and shows me into an elegant sitting room, with a few other doors leading out. “The guest room, which is where you’ll stay, is on the left, a toilet is attached to the room, and the middle door is the bathing room. My room is the one on the right.” I look around, then raise my wrists.

“Am I to be kept chained as I am here? It seems an interesting form of recruitment, kidnapping and chaining me up.”

“No,” She states, and the chains fall off. “You are not able to open the door out of these quarters, so you will have to stay with me if you need anything, but you are welcome to ask for anything. Meals will be served anytime you wish. The kidnapping and chains are used to ensure you do not struggle too much, as many magic users are taught that we are dangerous and not to be trusted. I presume this happens as we are a secretive organization.”

“Are you? To be trusted, I mean?” I ask. I don’t expect her to tell me if she isn’t, but at least I can watch her behavior as she talks.

“We do our best to be trustworthy, we do keep secrets though.” She states kindly. It’s more than I expected, and I nod, glancing around the room. It’s all furnished in fabric that reminds me of velvet and silk from earth, shaded like a sunset, with reds and golds and pinks and purples.

“Would you like something to drink? I have tea or good wine.” She asks politely, taking a seat on a nearby chair. I imitate her cautiously, still feeling like I should try to get away. I wonder what wine would do to my new body…

“Tea, please.” I say after a moment. On the chance it still would affect me, I’d rather keep a clearer head.

“Pie?” Aliah offers, and I get the sense that she’s asking more about sweet pastries than pie, but it translates about the same.

I shrug, “Thank you.” I accept.

She touches a bell on the small side table, and a hidden door opens, then an automaton steps out. This one is humanoid, and seems to have cookware built into it. I straighten my shoulders, trying not to show how it intrigues me. I look back at Aliah, and she seems to be studying me.

“So, what exactly do you do?” I ask after a moment. “You want me to join you, but I still don’t know how.”

“We build the magical items found everywhere, they are used for everything from a status symbol, to messengers, to bodyguards, to pets. This one here is a personal cook. We also distribute these goods and handle long range transportation.”

“How long range?” I ask. I don’t want to tell her I’m a world traveler, but I am curious if they are.

“Across the world.” She states, “We don’t have power that lets us get off this world.”

I nod, looking dutifully impressed. “That’s impressive, that you are able to distribute it so widespread,” I say.

“Indeed.” The robot pours two cups of steaming tea, and pulls a few pastries out of its chest compartment, setting them on a side table between Aliah and I. “I presume you haven’t heard the story of how we started this organization, have you?” I shake my head as politely as I know how. I may be giving myself away with my lack of knowledge, but they will find out sooner or later.

“It is not well known outside our bounds. The legends state that a being, a goddess, came here for a year and a day, spending it teaching our fresh new magic users how to use the magic they had discovered when she appeared. She taught us how to combine magic to produce machines that are partially living, yet not. We had machines, but none that could replicate intelligence.” Her dark eyes shine as she talks of this, and I can tell that she fervently believes in this goddess.

“Who was she?” I ask, interested in the legend.

“She called herself a ‘Planeswalker’, and possessed the power to step between worlds with a flash of light. We worship her for the power she gave us to create intelligence in the machines. She was a very generous goddess. It is said that her body glowed with an energy that was more than magical, and was the source of her great powers. She gave us no name, but Planeswalker was name enough.”

I nod, hoping to get more information. “So she taught you how to make these machines?”

“She did, and I’m sure your powers can help us with all of that.” Aliah says, picking up one of the pastries. I follow her lead and nibble politely on the edge of it. It’s very flaky and sweet, and there seems to be a jelly or cream inside of it. It’s shaped like a square, with crimped edges like a pie. Aliah motions to the tall glass of orange-colored liquid.

“For you,” she says, picking up her own glass, which is shaped much more like a wine glass with a dark ruby liquid inside.

I take my glass, and sip the tea, it's not poisonous, but it could be drugged, not that it’d have too much effect on me with time. I scan it with KT again, and it assures me that there are no known chemicals in it that would affect my body, besides a stimulant resembling caffeine that would naturally appear in the drink. Aliah probably knows that I’m not from here, but isn’t too guarded with her information. I should see if her comment about being unable to open the door is true or not, maybe tonight. I glance around, hoping to seem casual about it, then mentally try to reach out to Trigger again. I feel the snap of pain, but it isn’t as strong. Maybe I can break through it tomorrow. We relax for a bit, then she stands.

“You should get some rest, it has been a long day for you.” She says, motioning to my room door, then walking into her own.

I get up and step to the main door, just as she said, it doesn’t budge for me, so I enter my room. A large four-poster bed takes up a good chunk of the area, and I see an open door to what must be the attached toilet. An end table sits next to the bed, a buzzer resting on it. I see an opening in the far wall, and I recall the dumb waiters in my mansion. I morph the belt into comfy pjs, and crawl into the bed, noting with surprise that it’s already warm. I have a window, and I can see that it looks to be a darker grey outside than usual with the smog, so I presume it’s getting close to nighttime. I hesitate, then morph my food replicator onto the large bed beside me, and ask it for some egg rolls and hot chocolate. I take them and snuggle up with a pillow, missing Trigger and Twila. I’ve only been sleeping in the same bed as Trigger for… I don’t even know. Less than a week, I think. But I still miss him. And Twila too, someone else to cuddle with. They’re both warm and comfortable, and… as nice as the heating in the bed is, it just isn't the same. I drift off to sleep eventually though, wondering what in the world I’m supposed to do about this.