Lifting the ‘coin’ up to the light he examined it a bit closer. It didn’t look much like a coin at all. More like a squashed sphere. Maybe one that had spun so fast it started to flatten out. Either way it was incredibly bloody and covered in viscera. He rubbed it against his jeans to clean it off but while doing so felt a shock jump from it to his fingers. The shock intensified but didn’t exactly hurt or burn. It actually felt a bit invigorating. Still his knee jerk reaction was to fling it away but even as his hand rose up to do so he could tell there was nothing there anymore. No sting, and no coin.
He examined his fingers. There was a pinkish hue where he was holding the coin, possibly from the pressure of gripping it. Otherwise they weren’t numb, or painful when manipulated or gripping tightly against one another. He decided to keep an eye on it but otherwise there wasn’t much else he could do but continue. After the disgusting task he had a line of skins laid out which were mostly in one piece. Many of them were jaggedly cut and had little holes where he slipped with the knife or when pulling them off poorly. Looking at the line though one could easily see the progression from complete ineptitude to at least a little familiarity with the process.
Throughout he’d found each rat had a coin. No better word for it at the moment so may as well keep using it. He was careful not to rub them on his pants but after handling a few he found it didn’t really matter what he did. Holding them for too long always got him zapped. He tossed them in a pile almost as soon as he pulled them out. Leaning over he examined them as close as he could without touching. They were all nearly identical, though without a way to measure or weigh them he couldn't be sure. The rats were similarly identical. It was also hard to tell with their crushed nature but at least the coat coloring was effectively identical as far as he could tell. As if he’d been killing the same rat over and over.
In the end he had twelve of the coins left and scooped them up using the blanket and deposited them into the pocket of his recliner. Each of the five missing coins had caused zaps which had felt about the same as the first, no real pain, energizing, and bit euphoric. Kind of like drinking that first cup of coffee in the morning, only better but there was no guarantee it was as safe or non addictive. He still felt amped and ready to go though so decided he might as well finish his cleanup process.
Taking the dandelions and onion he hopped to the underside and planted the dandelions. With the onion he tossed it into the underside of his starting square. He didn’t remember off hand how to grow new onions from a single one. Pretty sure there were supposed to be seeds on the top of the stalk but he didn’t see any. There was also no guarantee this was actually an onion and wouldn’t hurt him in some way when it bloomed. At least with the dandelions they had already bloomed and he could see no reaction, whether with breathing or his skin when handling them. And they did have some nutritional value if it came to that, and they were at least a bit more pleasing to look at than plain grass.Flipping himself back up he set the largest stone on one corner of the soil square as far from his starting square as he could. It was hanging off the edge by a bit. Then set the smallest branch, more of a stick really, on it. Bending it he was able to break it into several small pieces. Then he feathered them with his multitool. They would dry faster this way and would make it easier to light when he eventually tried.
Well now for some testing he’d been thinking about. He shuddered before grabbing one of the carcasses. Even after skinning them all it was still grossing him out to grab them. Though it seemed to be lessening. Stepping to the edge he conjured the feeling of the rat square. It had become easier as he’d traversed the gap. He didn’t need to put so much effort into willing himself elsewhere as he’d narrowed it down to a more specific feeling. It was still a bit nebulous but it was still a work in progress. The feeling he’d currently settled on was that of a place to collect resources. With that he could simply step forward with the intent to go ‘there’ and he would arrive. In this process he’d felt like he could feel just a twinge of other possibilities. Not dissimilar to hearing someone chatter behind a wall you didn’t know had somewhere behind it, but not through your ears. Of course hearing someone talking behind a wall doesn’t mean you can see the way to get there, you just know the option exists.
Upon arrival in the rat square he heard the ubiquitous squeak and promptly dropped the carcass in front of the surprised rat. He examined the top side of the square then flipped to the underside. There was another stick, even better. He wanted to see if it was the same place he returned to when he came back. At least when he didn’t kill the rat. As he was flipping back to the top side he realized there was another test he needed to run. Try to step back home from the underside. One test at a time though. No need to meddle the results. Stepping back to his home squares he immediately stepped back forward again. This time thankfully no squeak, what greeted him instead was much quieter but somehow much more disgusting. The rat was feasting on its fallen comrade. Not the issue he was here for though. Exploring the underside revealed the stick as well in the same spot.
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Ozzy spent the next hour returning at intervals to find the living rat in various stages of consuming the deceased. He said a silent prayer to thank whatever ruled these realms that he never saw the opposite. He didn’t know how well he could handle zombie rats. He also went ahead and tested the return home from the underside. Which spurned several other tests. Initially returning from the underside resulted in him returning to home on the underside, but he quickly found that he could intentionally return to either the top, or underside from either the top or underside from either location. Not only this but he could return to either of his squares from any angle even when exiting from any angle at the rat square. ‘Actually scratch that’ he thought as he crossed out the last note he’d made in his notebook. He got up and tested the last two angles. The internal connection between his two home squares. And no he couldn’t return to or leave from the connection between those squares from either direction. He had to step over the boundary from his squares into nothingness, or return to such a connection.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
He updated his notes and sat back on his recliner to ponder. Intent seemed to be a major factor in travel here, and there was a clear boundary on the edge of his tiles allowing a connection to others… somewhere. Implying his little sphere of influence was at least partially governed by three dimensional rules while outside it seemed every point connected to every other point somewhere else. And, not just one somewhere else, if his inklings during previous travels were to be believed. Which brought up another question. If he could go to the rat square, and return here. Could the rats follow him back? Or could something or someone else travel here somehow?
He suspected the answer to those were along the lines of “yes, but” … likely with caveats. Though that in turn made him wonder about another possibility. He could step back and forth between the rat square and his home squares. If that was the case shouldn’t he be able to see between them without needing to step forward. Especially if it was simply intent that determined where and how he left and arrived in both locations. If physical things could pass it would suggest that light should be able to as well.
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Thirty minutes later Ozzy sat nursing a pounding headache. The blanket wasn’t enough to block out the light. His hands tightly clamped over his eyes were barely enough. Any light, even the tiny little cracks between his fingers were setting off waves of pain. Just because something was possible didn’t mean it was easy. He was pretty sure he had eventually succeeded, though he regretted it immediately. It had felt like he had tried to pull his third eye out of its … socket? … and force it through a straw. Resulting in his current predicament. He was trying as intensely not to think about anything as he had to force a field of view into the other square. Which made him wonder… “OW!” he groaned. Leaning forwards. Which helped a bit. Flipping over in the recliner he forced his face into the pillowed headrest. That was much better. So much better that he actually started to relax and drift off.
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Thirty minutes prior he’d started out standing on the edge of his squares and preparing the idea of the rat square as if he was going to step forward. Instead of taking the step he envisioned looking at it. Nothing happened, but he wasn’t deterred. Looking wasn’t really an active thing like taking a step. Opening your eyes though? That was an action. Preparing himself once more this time he closed his eyes and again he didn’t step forward, but instead opened his eyes. Well that would have been too easy. It did give him another eyedea though.
The two little squares he called home might operate just like that. When he left it would be like opening a door. What if he pulled back the curtains? Maybe he could see outside. Taking up stance and closing his eyes once more he envisioned the rat square and reached out his hand. Not that he actually needed his hand to do this but sometimes having a focus helped. While still keeping the rat square in mind he also conjured up a representation of a curtain before him and began pulling them open. Surprisingly he felt a resistance as if he was pushing on something. Not a curtain though, unless it was made of lead and clamped shut.
The resistance was spongy. Pushing on it felt like he was getting somewhere but the further he pushed the more resistance he felt. He could also feel the resistance wasn’t in his arm, but between his eyes. His arm would keep moving but his head would lock in place and it felt a bit like someone had pushed a finger just above his nose. After a few attempts using his arm he got a good feeling of the pressure on his forehead. Letting his arm hang at his side he pushed back against the resistance mentally. Like swinging on a swing he pushed hard, let the resistance build and then let it push back on him once it reached its highest peak. In the next push he would push even harder, straining to open the curtain. Each push caused a little more pain to branch out from his forehead. He felt it was relaxing though, that he was getting somewhere.
After several swings back and forth he cracked his eyes open but kept up on his exercise. Trying to see if he was succeeding. It was difficult to see with the squinted view but he was more worried about keeping pace and not losing his focus. With several more swings he’d grown accustomed to his eyes cracked and was able to widen them enough to see clearly. There didn’t seem to be anything happening in front of him. There were little flickers it seemed. Though they could easily just be the floaties in his eyes against the clear sky.
It frustrated him how little progress he was making here. He’d traveled to the rat square accidentally at first and had done it easily nearly fifty times now with the recent testing. How was it so hard to just look at it? The frustration drove him to push harder and strain more. The pain reverberated from his forehead to the back of his skull. For a moment or two he wondered if he was just giving himself an aneurysm for nothing. Then he saw it. Only with a flicker at first. Then half the sky turned black, and a surprised rat flat on its back, its belly bloated to bursting with its recently finished meal.
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Ozzy woke up after he wasn’t sure how long. Still face down in the recliner. Arms dangling on the side of the recliner awkwardly. He’d also slumped down uncomfortably low to where he was face down in the seat, and his right arm had slipped into the pocket of the recliner. His legs had slipped to either side of the footrest while he slept, which might have been what woke him up. It was a bit difficult to get up. But he managed. In the process he realized his headache wasn’t just gone, but he felt amazing. That, and, the pocket was empty.