The world doesn’t look how it’s meant to – I don’t where in the world I am, in what world I am, or even if I’m in a world. I think it’s only been a few seconds since I made contact with the non-entity, but it still feels like a lot of time. I feel bad for Other because they feel bad; they didn’t intend for this to happen. They just wanted to comfort me. That’s how I remember them feeling, anyway. If I ever find them again, I’ll tell them that it’s not their fault this happened.

Nikki was terror. No, they were terrified. People have emotions, they are not emotions – already I’m forgetting that. But I’ll try hard not to. But Nikki was terrified, and I’d never seen them with that emotion before; it made me terror. Yes, terror, because I’m not a person any more. At least not wholly a person. I am terror in the other sense too; I was the source of Nikki’s fear. They left the room. There was screaming. There were flashes of light and damages to the walls, but James gave up and left. Amelia left, Nikki left, and I stay. I’m here still, alone. If I think really hard I can just about make out the bunker. I have to rely on my memory, but I’m in my room, sitting on the bed, and I might be crying. I don’t think too much about the crying; I know why I am. I look around but it all becomes confusing again. Walls, enclosed space, room. Space. Enclosed space. That’s all I’m aware of. I’m a thing – I am a thing – in a closed space.

When I regain awareness, I notice a book on a piece of furniture – a thing that goes by the side of the bed. A beside cabinet. Yes, I know what it is. I know what the book is too. It’s Ficciones. I read it. I can’t tell how long I spend reading it, nor what exactly I read, but I know what happened in each of the stories after I’m done. I can describe it in as much detail as I please.

Door. I find the door and I somehow leave the room. Hallways. New room. More books, TV, DVDs. I remember this place. I spent time with the people who left – I think they only left a few minutes ago – here. We watched TV and read books and felt awkward and laughed about games and I felt sad because the person I loved was having sex with a person I thought was pretty cool. But there are books here. I sit in front of these and even though my awareness fades again, I can read. I don’t know what words I read, but I remember the contents of the books. I can reflect on each one, and I do. I know the stories of Dunsany: of gods who remind me of my friends, especially the silent Kib who is like Other. I know the stories of Gaimen: of newer gods and old gods who war in America and Americans. But what I like most are the comforting stories of Lovecraft: of the moon-hater who spent his night in a garden with some worms.

I read many more books and I know this takes me a few days. I don’t grow hunger as I used to, and I don’t grow tiredness of all the reading, though my consciousness can’t help but wither. It grows and withers, and since this starts to increase in frequency, I, to be safe, consume some food before continuing my reading.

My memory is fallible. The exact contents of many of the books escape me, though I remember Murakami and Gaimen in detail. I do not remember An Introduction to Qualitative Economics, or very much of Secrets for The Mad. But it doesn’t matter because I can spend time reading those again and it will be like new.

Nikki is writing by the board. They are scrawling something on page after page. There are books – but not ones which possess words yet – stacked up by their side. They place them in a small box on the board. They do not see me, but Stranger does, and they greet me; their clarity makes me cry again. I understand them perfectly well when they say, “Hello, Person.”

I try to greet them back. I think I fail, but they acknowledge my greeting. I tell them that I am joy.

“It is important that you communicate with Nikki.”

Stranger conveys what I am feeling to Nikki. I hear what they are telling Nikki: “Your friend is here, can you see them?” Nikki looks up and notices me. They do not feel terror anymore; they even smile at me. I can focus on nothing else but that smile: the subtle curve of that soft, pink flesh is everything for some long seconds. I am a greater joy. A greater joy than I have ever been.

Nikki tells me through Stranger: “I need to thank you. Jesus was going to terminate this whole world – they realised the handle wouldn’t work. I don’t quite get why, but that new non-entity had become a part of the world. They were inseparable. But when it merged with you, it just stopped spreading. In fact, it retracted entirely into you, along with all those imperceptible non-entities. They just vanished then. But the world is safe for now.”

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Through Stranger I tell Nikki I’m so glad to see them.

“I’m glad to see you too,” they say. “But we need to hurry up; we need you for this plan to work.”

And so Stranger conveys the plan: as we decided before, we use some non-entity to stop James from abusing the power of illusion, we hope Amelia keeps up her promise and help us, we will try to use a time-altering non-entity to get our world first, and if we succeed we will help Amelia, but she will not get to rule. Only Nikki and I will. I acknowledge the plan, but I remember Chronos. I ask where they are.

“Chronos was already merged with the absorbing non-entity when it merged with you. You are, in part, Chronos.”

Putting aside how I feel about Chronos being part of me until I have more time, I tell Nikki I have no idea how to alter time. Stranger says they will inform me how, so that’s not a problem. “Nikki says we should test something out now.”

“What?”

“Sending a present.” I see Nikki’s legs standing, then I see their arm stretching. They make circles with their wrist which crunches a little. “Ah fuck, I’ve been writing for so long.” They pick off one of the notes and show it to Stranger who tells me what it says

5 points (only for the first item sent)

Send a present! Go to the communication point and leave a present there, with a note attached saying who you want it to go to. Can be sent as often as possible.

I don’t think we say anything and we’re at the communication point. There is a new non-entity in the telephone booth, and its cubic and floaty and if I stand close enough I hear screaming. I walk backwards, and the sound stops instantly. I try to talk to it, but it seems to be unable to speak – which leaves me wondering how we got it to agree, but I trust that it’ll be useful. However, it turns out it’s not actually that useful, since it’s completely inanimate. We’re just sending it to see if this note works. Nikki places a note with James’ full name on in the booth and we close the door. We watch it for a while, but at some point, we notice it has gone, so we assume the present sending mechanism works with non-entities. Pleased, Nikki suggests finding more snacks before they go back to writing. But to work out that’s what they want is very difficult and Stranger can’t help me anymore; even they are becoming unclear.

The books in front of me are clear, as are the flashes of light and the scatter of paper and the terror – the terrified – people behind me. I cannot read the shredded book and it’s so loud. When I get up the terrified people leave. They run away just like Nikki, James and Amelia. I try to speak to them, but by the time I figure out how they’re gone, and I’m left in darkness uttering sounds that might make sense. The books are dead. Not dead, but gone. Destroyed. There is nothing left for me to do here, so I ascended out of the bunker and walk. Trees are not books, although they were books. The other way around. I try to read them, but I can’t, so I leave the trees and for a while I find nothing book-like. I find signs with words, but they are not fulfilling. Where do I find more books? Places come to mind, but I don’t know how to get them because I don’t know how I got here. Amelia took us here, but she left me. I concentrate.

A car drives past so I follow it until it’s out of sight. Then I follow street signs, but I start going the wrong way and I pass the cabin again and again. I walk slower, pausing at each moment so I can concentrate, pull together what my dulled senses are telling me, to see the road and read the signs properly, and to see the small person watching me. They’re talking and they’re asking me how am I. Not that. How I am? No, something similar. Are you alright? That’s it. They’re asking me if I’m alright and I tell them I’m fine thanks, and yourself? I stop, and they stop. I sit down and close my eyes, hoping that I can hear them better if I don’t waste my concentration on seeing stuff. But the darkness I see isn’t uniform or simple; it’s fuzzy, buzzing darkness. It prickles against my eyes like tiny, heavy, blunted needles and I when I open them the child is still there looking at me, raining. It tells me I’m bleeding, and I tell it not to worry and it says it can get bandages and I say there’s no need, but it’s pulling me up to stand and leading me away. Since I’m lost anyway I don’t protest. Its home is small and warm and is parents are frightened and shoo me out with flashes. I comply and walk away from their house until I’m hidden among some trees, which are also raining – being rained on, actually, just as child was. I don’t feel tired, but my eyes close again and the darkness isn’t so fuzz-buzzing this time. I keep them closed and

the world is dark and nearly starless and I can see Nikki writing, and Other and Stranger beside them, beneath the dim lights of the board and with immense effort I smile at them