"Why did we come out in the middle of this street?" asked Sam.

Now that they were through the portal, Sam was faced with an all too familiar sight. On his left was a row of houses, and on his right was a row of houses. All the quirks of an Californian suburb, with its characteristicly bland houses and manicured lawns, were present. Nothing was out of place, except for the fact that there was a massive portal in the middle of the street.

"It's a nice open space with no trees or anything to obstruct the portal. It would be awkward if we came out in the middle of someone's house, not to mention we would have to deal with the Homeowner's Association for bisecting properties" Gray said, shuddering at the thought. "Trust me, this is the best place to come out."

"Well, no I mean this particular street," Sam said, looking around. "Lets just say I have some bad memories of this place."

Sam took a deep breath before continuing.

"I grew up here," Sam said, "I lived in that house over there." He pointed to a house at the end of the street. Red bricks, white trim, a green door. Just like he remembered. "I haven't been back here in years since it was sold after my parents divorced."

Sam walked up to the front. It was strange to see the house again. It was like stepping back in time, back to a time when he was a child, when the world was a simpler place and he had thought his family issues was just a phase. His family had been happy once in that house, but over time he had watched it crumble, with the divorce being the final nail in the coffin.

At the time, Sam just seemed like a normal kid, if only a bit withdrawn, but he was dying inside. There was no food in the fridge, no money for clothes, and no love in the house. Just the constant sound of yelling and thrown utensils. He and his older brother would hide in their rooms, trying to block out the noise, pretending that everything was fine with video games and homework.

But reality was a harsh mistress. One day after a particularly bad fight, his father packed his bags and left, leaving Sam and his brother with their mother. At first, Sam thought it was a good thing, that the fighting would stop now that his father was gone. Indeed, the house was now peaceful, but it wasn't a happy peace. The noisy fights were replaced with silent abandonment. Trash piled up, bills went unpaid, and the house fell into disrepair. No electricity, no water, no heat. Just the cold, the dark, and the hunger.

He hated his father for leaving, but he hated his mother more for staying. She couldn't do anything but mask her sorrows with useless hobbies like collecting postage stamps and old coins. She would spend hours in the attic, sorting through her collection, while Sam and his brother would scrounge for food in the trash. Why couldn't she see that they were suffering? Realize that they needed help? But she never did. She was too lost in her own world to see the pain of her children.

It took a while for Sam to forgive his mother, even after finding out that she has a form of autism. "We have trouble adapting to change," a friend of hers had told him once the news of the divorce was out. "We need routine, structure, and predictability. We don't like surprises." Perhaps that was why she clung to her collections, they were the only things that made sense in a fractured family. But at the time, Sam's only thought was that she was cowardly, not strong enough to face the world, but not humble enough to ask for help. So he left, leaving his mother behind to go to college on the other side of the country.

Years of therapy and self-reflection had given him the strength to reconcile with his mother and father, who had both since remarried and have moved to different states. Visits were awkward, but they were civil. He had even met his half-siblings, who were just as awkward as he was. With time, the wounds had healed, but the scars remained.

Now, standing in front of the old house, Sam felt a mix of emotions. Anger, sadness, regret. The memories of his childhood came flooding back, but they were different now. They were colored by the knowledge that his parents were just people, flawed and broken, just like him. So he stood there, staring at the house, and let the emotions wash over him.

Gray watched him silently, her eyes full of understanding. When Sam finally turned to her, she gave him a small smile.

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"Ready to go?" she asked.

Sam nodded, "Yeah, let's go."

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"That is really cool," Sam said, as he passed a stick through the sharp edge of the portal. The stick was cleanly cut in half, the two pieces falling to the ground with a soft thud. There was no resistance, no force pushing back whatsoever.

"Zero-thickness" Gray said, "A perfect two-dimensional plane makes for a good cutting edge. It's one of the reasons why the largest industries using interdimensional portals are in construction and manufacturing. You can make perfect cuts, welds, and joins with no effort at all."

"Wow," Sam said, "Remind me to never walk through one of these things without looking."

"Just be careful," Gray said with a chuckle, "It's not like you can't see them. They're pretty obvious."

Sam looked at the portal. It was a large rectangle glowing with a purple light on one side, and a black void on the other that seemed to emit darkness. Light seemed to bend around the edges, making it look like a hole in reality, which it was. It was pretty hard to miss.

"I can't believe New Versailles is truly on the other side of this thing" Sam said, "It's like the anywhere door from Doraemon, but bigger and purple,"

Gray chuckled, "You mean the trinket from the show about a robot cat enabling a spoiled brat's shenanigans? I saw an episode on interdimensional Netflix once, weird stuff."

"Hey, Doraemon is a classic," Sam said, "Not to mention it's a great way to introduce kids to the concept of technology and responsibility."

"Sure, sure," Gray said, "But I prefer Rick and Morty. It's more my speed."

"Rick and Morty?" Sam asked, "Really? Didn't that show have an episode where they had an incest baby?"

"Hey, it's a show about a drunk mad scientist and his grandson going on interdimensional adventures," Gray said, "It's supposed to be stupid. That's the point."

"That's not an excuse for bad writing," Sam said, "Just because it's a comedy doesn't mean it can't have a coherent plot."

"Fair enough," Gray said, "I guess I just prefer my science fiction to be a bit more... out there. It's hard to enjoy sci-fi when you're living in a boring version of it every day."

"I guess interdimensional travel is old hat for you." Sam said, rolling his eyes

"Speaking of, always go through the purple side," Gray said, "the black side is the void, you don't want to go there unless your fond of non-eucledian geometry or murderous interdimensional trucks."

"Trucks?" Sam asked.

"Long story," Gray said, "the Samian Freight Brotherhood has a monopoly on interdimensional trucking, and they're not very nice about it. They have a habit of running over people who get in their way. So just stick to the purple side, okay?"

"Got it," Sam said, "Purple side only."

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"So how come nobody is gawking at your body?" Sam asked, as they waited for their food at the local Panera Bread. "I mean, you're not exactly subtle with the whole animal ears and tail thing."

Gray chuckled, "Well, to them I probably just look like a cosplayer. It's either that or they think I'm a furry. Either way, they don't care. People like to assume the most mundane explanation for things, it's easier that way."

It was true. Sam remembered that he had seen some pretty weird things in his time as a fast food worker. At first, he had been shocked by the things he had seen, but over time he had grown numb to it. No, the soda fountain isn't supposed to be used as a foot wash, and no, you can't pay for your meal with a bag of pennies. People were weird, and they did weird things. What was the point of getting worked up about it?

"Your food is ready," the worker behind the counter said, handing them their trays. "Enjoy your meal. I like your costume by the way," he said to Gray.

"Thanks," Gray said, taking her tray, "It's not a costume, but I appreciate the compliment."

"Sure thing," the worker said, "Have a good day."

Sam and Gray found a table by the window and sat down. Sam took a bite of his chipotle avacado chicken sandwich, savoring the taste. It was pretty good, only discounting the fact that it was a bit too salty. Gray was eating a bowl of broccoli cheddar soup, which she seemed to be enjoying.

"So, what's the plan now?" Sam asked, between bites.

"We show off your new godhood," Gray said, "We're going to go around the city and you are going to help people with their problems."

"Help people with their problems?" Sam asked, "What kind of problems"

"Lost things, broken hearts, existential crises," Gray said, "You know, the usual stuff for Los Angeles."

"What do I get out of this?" Sam asked, "I mean, surely I am not doing this just out of the goodness of my heart."

Gray chuckled, "Well, you get practice, for one. Being a god is a lot of work, and you need to get used to it. Plus, you'll gain followers, and with followers comes power. The more people believe in you, the more influence you have over the world. It's a win-win."

"So I get paid with experience and exposure?" Sam asked, "yeah, that sounds about right."

"Gotta start somewhere," Gray said, "And who knows, maybe you'll find your true calling in helping people. It's not a bad way to spend your time."

"All right," Sam said with a sigh, "Let's do this."