Have you ever seen the Terminator? Not the new shitty one, but the old one where Schwarzenegger fights the liquid metal version himself, the blob terminator? That’s what’s currently wrapped around my arm, trying to eat me molecule by fucking molecule. If not for my blend of exotic sorceries, I’d already be dead, and as of right now, I was in the process of dying. Even with my Flesh Sorcery deadening my nerves and my Consciousness Sorcery speeding up my perceptions, the amount of pain coming through lighting up my brain was staggering.
My Earth Sorcery was actually keeping most of it at bay and my Consciousness Sorcery was well, keeping me conscious, but it was also picking up the barest signal from the unfriendly blob.
Same. Consume. Become. Meld. One.
My sheer surprise allowed my attacker to gain another inch on my arm. My right arm, my favorite arm, my writing hand, my pointing hand, throwing arm, was being devoured by a mother-fucking blob! Another surprise hit me from the other arm. The left arm gauntlet of Svalinn that I hadn’t taken off thrummed and pulsed, sending a wave of emotion and intent up into my brain. It was much louder than its competitor.
EAT! CONSUME! DEVOUR! DOMINATE!
Rath’s disembodied voice, the vessel of his instincts, roared through me. Even though the mind of the dragon was long gone, his barren soul was in Svalinn. And it was angry.
Dragons don’t get eaten. Dragons do the eating.
And nothing should ever beat that which was able to beat a dragon, which was me. Raw indignation and pride swelled from Svalinn to me creating a tangential bridge of emotional power. Focusing my simultaneous mental processes on keeping the blob at bay, I grabbed onto my connection with Svalinn and pulled some of the power from my gauntlet shield in a way that I had never done before. Normally, my batteries and Gungnir are power sources and Svalinn was the dedicated shield, but make no mistake. Svalinn contains more power than both of those tools combined. Svalinn contains the disembodied soul of a dragon along with its devouring nature. Its main purpose is to swallow as much energy as possible from enemy attacks and divert what it cannot intake. And right now, right fucking now was the perfect time to utilize its last ditch functions.
I didn’t even hesitate. Power from a fire dragon is not something that I honestly wanted to handle as its nature is literally the opposite of my own, but I needed the raw power with the hungry nature of a primordial lizard right now. Pure animal rage powered through me as Svalinn’s stored energy ran across my body from my left arm gauntlet through my chest, skipping around the heart, and down my right arm. Red mana clashed with silver pseudopods in the battleground of my flesh. The somewhat consumed part of my arm almost disconnected in the initial clash, the metallised bone flexing out and bending like a freak of nature gone really wrong. Screaming with agony, trying to endure the sheer violation of what was happening, I called to Gungnir through our blood bond.
My oldest and most reliable weapon flew from the table and slapped into my right hand, the solid wooden shaft met silvery skin through the blob. If blasting this problem with raw power from one side wasn’t enough to deal with this issue, then what was a real man to do other than hitting it with raw power at the same time from another side? I’m a smart guy, but not very complex. Brute strength fixes most issues, and if it doesn’t, then obviously you’re not brute forcing it hard enough. Dad ain’t always right.
Gungnir’s answering pulse of pure white energy cannoned into the blob from one side as Svalinn’s hungry wave of power tore into the very fabric of the armor blob cube from the other side. As the opposing energies turned the tide, doing to the blob what it was doing to me, the ingrained enchantments holding the blob together began to fall apart. Now that it was under an incredible amount of distress and no longer shielded, my Mana Sorcery actually had a chance to read the basic enchantment structure of the cube blob. It wasn’t just a super cool suit of liquid metal magitech armor, which I knew now due to its less than friendly actions, but it was a form of control. Embedded deep in the nanobots was an underlying structure of mind control enchantments that screamed “Evil”. Little runes that projected a mental image of tightly wound chains glowed red to my magical senses.
Envisioning an angry dragon’s maw chomping at the bars of a cage, I channeled that image, that will into the current of Svalinn’s power, giving a focus to the constant firehose of raw energy.
“Life is a lemon and I want my money back!” I scream-sang at the top of my lungs, adding my own power to the torrential outpouring of agony that was my right hand. When in doubt, Meatloaf always has the right lyrics.
The mystical chain symbols shattered as the armor cube bent to implacable waves of power. Before the entire alien weapon liquified, I grabbed the twisted concept of the armor, the broken chains made up of crimson slavery, and shoved my will into it. It felt like making Gungnir for the first time, the outpouring of myself with my intention of making it mine, reclaiming that which was broken and forging anew. Gungnir and Svalinn, attached as they were to me, held the blob together with magic as my desire overwrote the inherent runic controls of the nanotech armor. Almost as quickly as the entire ordeal started, it was over. The metal stopped trying to eat me and became as obedient as a well trained horse.
My Flesh Sorcery kept right on working overtime, fixing the destroyed cells, but also hurriedly regenerating most of my hand that had been subsumed by the armor. Taking a second to stop Gungnir and Svalinn from pumping more energy into me, I established a mana-feed from the kinetic-river energy matrix to keep me going and fill up my equipment. The blob that was the armor cube reformed into an armor cube bit by bit as my own flesh regenerated. It was like watching the liquid Terminator dude reform himself, the silver sheen of the metal turning flesh colored as biology reasserted itself and technology taking the back seat.
Plopping my ass down on the cold stone floor, my entire body shook as I held that cube. I almost just died. And it would have happened too if I didn’t have stupid amounts of power in random areas on call. Nothing from Reeanth’s memories indicated that a simple nanotech armor cube would be the freaking blob from hell in disguise. Tossing my almost forgotten ration cube into my mouth to give my body more material to work with, I almost missed because my hand was still shaking. Holding my breath, I extended out a tendril of magic just barely touching the cube.
Contact established. Recalculating logic/language parameters. Previous directives overriden . . . . Scanning . . . . Scanning . . . . Dominance protocols adjusted. New host overrides genetic recalibration. Attempting to establish contact with Authoritative Directive Source. Failure . . . Magus Collective does not apply to the current host. Alpha Centauri Sorcerer Killer protocol overriden and replaced.
[What, the actual fuck?]
Sexual activity between biologicals and automatons was banned in Collective Era prior to the invasion of the Hive. Reporting attempted crime per protocol 80324, ERROR! Does not apply. New host has overridden genetic recalibration and Dominance protocols. Highest authority established due to overwhelming power. Subspecies of fire drake detected, instrumental in breaking down of Hierarchical Order structure.
[No! You stupid thing, I’m not trying to have sex with you! The word ‘fuck’ is slang!]
It was talking to itself, and me. My armor was talking. Screw my luck, wasn’t Gungnir enough? Didn’t I put up with enough sentient items with their own opinions? Once was enough in my book.
Previous orders have been made obsolete. Directive?
[Now that’s more like it.]
Swallowing yet another ration cube to help provide more biological materials for my Flesh Sorcery to work with, I considered my options. Are the rules of artificial intelligence at play here, or was that a bunch of bullshit that humans came up with to help out science fiction writers?
Ehh, who cares.
I gathered my thoughts and focused them right at the subdued intruder. [Directive one. All orders issued by me have the highest priority. Directive two. There is no overriding authority to subvert orders given by me. Directive three. Your primary purpose is to function as armor for me. Directive four. Do not reveal yourself as an entity that can communicate in any way. Clarifying principle, do not talk to or communicate with anything other than me in any way unless I direct otherwise. Directive five. You will not harm or bring harm to me or my tools unless directed by me. End of directives at this time.]
Directives received. Communication and interspatial communication abilities have been disabled. Weapon settings placed on standby. Storage mode, activated.
With a shimmer, the liquid look of the nanotech cube hardened into a solid block of metal. Setting it down on the table, I went back to my seat on the floor ten feet away. Several chills ran down the back of my spine as the idea of the end hit me. If shit kept up at this pace, making it past a year in the apocalypse doesn’t look good, let alone the couple thousand years so see my damn woman.
“Fuckin’ hell man,” I moaned, gripping as I watched my skin regrow over new muscle and connective tissue. “This shit ain’t good. Wish I could hibernate inside of a damn cave for a slice of eternity and come out all bright eyed and bushy tailed chock full of enough power to fight a damn god!” I glared upwards, directing my ire at Yggdrasil. “What makes it unbelievable is that my damn woman will be able to do if she can get there. What? Would it make me feel better to build a damn fortress around your entire tree, but now I’m getting off topic. She’s way better set up to stand the test of time than I am right now.”
A nagging feeling began to poke at me as my complaint trailed off. It said that I don’t know enough, or anything for that matter. The Greeks had a saying ‘know thyself’, which many people took as an excuse to not do anything with their lives because they were always on a journey to get to know themselves. I feel that my circumstances warrant such an excursion though, how many other humans go through the kind of roller-coaster ride such as my own? Be it far from me to make light of the fact that billions of humans were kidnapped by aliens.
The act of meditation is more than saying ‘Kumbaya’ or ‘ooooommmm’ while sitting in the dirt. News to me when I learned about that. My fiance was a big fan of meditating every day, using ten minutes or so to sit in the quiet and ponder the events of the day, mulling over good and bad decisions while making sure that she was at peace with it all. Me, I never could sit still physically doing nothing for that long. It ate at me in the worst way, the quiet, the lack of activity. Maybe me and myself didn’t really get along, but recent events have shown that there’s a bit more to me than there used to be.
Now, I have magic.
Taking hold of the bit of inspiration that hit me, the energizing insight that provided a bit of motivation, I ran to the table and snatched the armor cube up. Going back to my spot near the generator, I set the cube in front of me and arranged Gungnir so that it was laying across my lap while Svalinn, both gauntlets of it, was in contact with my staff. Wrapping the copper cable connected to the generator around Gungnir took me a few seconds.
Not liking the setup, I scooted forward until the cube, which was roughly six inches across every dimension, was touching my leg as I sat Indian style. Now that a part of me was touching all of my gear, I closed my eyes and centered my focus on my magic. This was the part of me that could be active without my body literally doing anything. This is what could make mediation useful for me. The very act in and of itself is supposed to be relaxing, the whole ‘breathe in, breathe out’ mantra, but the excitement mixed with inner turmoil was making this hard.
Grasping at my Flesh Sorcery, I forced my body to slow down. My breathing smoothed out and the kinks in my muscles loosened up. Everything evened out. I used my Consciousness Sorcery to forcefully put aside the unnecessary thoughts that interfered with the required peace of mind. Ten minutes of manipulating my internal chemistry later, my inner mindscape came into view complete with the magical soul-tree of my sorceries and the projections of my equipment at its feet . . . or roots. The glowing eyes of my own magic stared back at me, a question in its eyes.
“Yes,” I answered, knowing where this was going. “We’re making a new friend here.”
A translucent brown root picked up Svalinn in its united shield form while another picked up staff-form Gungnir. The silver cube sat directly at its feet, unmoving and still.
“That’s the one.” I said, pointing down at the cube. “It’s armor, or, it should be. Think of it as a seed cause I’m pretty sure that magitech nano-bots can be anything we want.”
The dirt under the cube lifted it up until it was at eye level with my soul-tree. Dirt tendrils popped out of the mound of earth and flipped it around so it could be examined from another angle.
“No dummy, it’s not a fucking rubix cube,” I said, facepalming. Reaching forward, I put my ethereal finger on the cube and injected a bit of will into it.
Integration at the Quasi-Proton level requested?
“No!” I shouted at the cube. “You don’t do shit! Sit there and shut up! Tree-self! Establish dominance over the cube!”
I couldn’t let this experiment get out of control. My soul-tree was supposed to subsume the magitech, treating it like the other tools. It would be seriously bad news for me if it happened the other way around. Luckily for me, I’m pretty sure that Svalinn and Gungnir already did most of the heavy lifting anyways.
The manipulated pedestal of earth upon which the magitech cube sat quivered as my soul-tree stared at the weird display. I almost couldn’t believe it, this scene looked like something out of a wet dream from a hobo tripping on acid. I even felt like all I could do was watch, but bull-fucking-shit to that. This is my body, my mindscape, my tools, and my fucking soul-tree. I can do whatever the hell I want, and that includes balls to the wall improvisation.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Alpha Centauri armor cube, what is your inherent designation?”
Project Subversive Living Armor designated the production line as ‘Flexible Shield’. All other labels are personalized per the new Freewill Subversion Protocol. As the named owner, said designation is subject to change. All protocols have been disassembled and no longer apply.
It needs a name huh? Fine. “Your new designation is ‘SAW’. It is an acronym for ‘Swiss Army Wall.”
Designation ‘Swiss-Army-Wall: SAW’ accepted. Primary directives applied. Integration at the Quasi-Proton level requested?
There’s that unnerving question again. Quasi-Proton? What the fuck is that, I mean, is that the techo-speak for ‘soul’? It would make sense as it’s right next to the magical incarnation of my soul and all of its elemental power. Uhhhhhh, I hate not knowing the exact right answer, but c’est la vie bitches.
“Request denied. Stand down. New additional directive: accept all changes and integrations as initiated by the Quasi-Proton entity in front of me. Living Armor unit now known as SAW is directed to take a supporting role in the unification.”
Directive received. Supporting role assumed in line with new primary and secondary directives. Sub-molecular wavelength detecting . . . . detecting . . . . identified. Sub-protonic particulate structure detecting . . . . detecting . . . . identified. Integration paths identified. Directive required.
Yup, still not smart enough to understand what any of that meant. Best guess though, the damn thing is ready.
“Define ‘Integration Paths’. What does that mean?”
Mutable structure of SAW allows for multiple options in accordance with unique Sorcery-based structure. Multiple sources detected. Multiple affinities detected. Option 1, Living Weapon.
A small image appeared in front of me, a mini-blob at my feet, defending me like a personal attack dog. It bounced around and broke down numerous small enemies while shooting small needles of liquid metal.
Option 2, Living Shield.
The image changed to me in my normal set of gear, but with liquid metal octopus arms extending from my back and shoulders acting like flexible shields to deflect all kinds of attacks. Each arm moved as if it were water, molding itself to catch thrown projectiles and smack away people trying to engage in melee combat.
Option 3, Hidden Shield.
The scene shifted to me walking in the woods, and my skin shifting tones to blend perfectly into the background. The image of me skulking through the woods was hard to follow until I jumped out at my prey, many spikes of metal goring the beast.
Option 4, Shifting Runes.
The image again shifted, but it was just me in my armor, chillin. “SAW, explain Option 4. I don’t see anything.”
Shifting Runes is a tool enhancement feature.”
“That doesn’t tell me anything. Break it down.”
Selecting Shifting Runes as an option will eliminate the other options. Shifting Runes functions as an energy transference network between enhanced objects. Projections calculate that this will be the most efficient use to Authoritative Host. All tools in use will have improved energy conductivity. All shielding functions will have adaptive runic scripts. All weapons will have mana divergence capabilities for combat overflow. All other previously shown options will no longer be available. All choices are final.
The image of me shifted to mini-me defending myself from a magical blast in slow-motion. Svalinn was out, catching the fireball, and just before it hit, a thin metal covering morphed to have runes of ice, countering the fireball. Another shift and mini-me was projecting a blast of raw mana at a forest fire and a small bit of metal shifted to runes of water, allowing the raw mana to have characteristics of water and put out the fire.
I grinned. I had to have it. This could actually be the solution to my personal weakness against the Hungry Ones!
“SAW. Select Option 4!”
********
While my soul-tree was pulling an Iron Man, I decided to just watch. No, not literally pull an Iron Man, but damn close enough. Right in the middle of my soul-tree’s chest pulsing with a soft bluish white light, strands of wiry metal ran throughout its form like another circulatory system laid over top of its skin. The silvery fibers contoured every bark covered muscle while forming small plates of armor at the knees, elbows, and shoulders. And I kept watching, making sure to keep a close magical eye on everything. Even though I circumvented the “Sorcerer Killing” process of the Centauri tech, I didn’t trust it, which meant I had to verify over and over again.
Every inch of growing fiber was meticulously examined as if it were a new form of cancer; I even set up a background scanning process devoted to monitoring the bonded nano-tech. Hours of frantic waiting later, I managed to put some faith in myself and take a break. The auto-scan set up with my Consciousness Sorcery had my soul-tree completely mapped out and I built in a ‘freeze and alert’ alarm just in case it made a move I didn’t like.
Coming back to myself was not a pleasant process. The extended soul-twisting meditation was even more exhausting than battling the witch and downloading Reeanth’s clone brain combined. I’ve made some damn good progress in the past couple weeks, including figuring out a way to defend myself against my personal weakness. I looked lovingly at Gungnir, peering magically inside of it to look at one of the stored Centauri rifles. I hadn’t actually figured it out, but I could use the rifle itself, and Gungnir could still shoot the crystal rounds just like an actual gun.
Figuring that that was good enough for now, I turned my attention to the rest of the Lab. I pulled another Centauri ration cube out of Gungnir and stared at it as I grew a chair of stone out of the floor.
“I mean, it’s pretty bland.” I said, contemplating how awesome and yet how drab my living quarters were. There’s no warmth. Cold. “And it’s your fault!” I yelled upwards. My back cracked as I leaned backwards. “It’s missing a WOMAN’S touch! That was your job!” Suppressing a laugh, I bit my cheek and stored the cube away. “Bet you did this to spite me. Oh me, what can I do to go missing for a few thousand years? Oh wait, I can be lazy forever? Count me in!”
Finished with my pointless mockery I contemplated one of the plans that we had shared about our future. We had a mutual goal, an awesome greenhouse, but not a normal one. Back when we were normal vanilla humans, we had this great idea about having our own personal jungle within a greenhouse. I wanted to be able to walk into a building filled with awesome edible plants, my own ecosystem thriving under my care with exotic fruits and veggies covering every square inch.
To be transparent, it was all in the pursuit of the perfect smoothie. I had scoured every Smoothie King, Jamba Juice, and Orange Julius hunting for the perfect blend of icy goodness, but nowhere had the perfect smoothie. I even went and explored all the Amish stores that southern Virginia had to offer, and while they were good and some even great, they just weren’t perfect. Which is where my aspirations of a greenhouse came in.
If I couldn’t find the perfect smoothie, then I’d have to make one.
Because the apocalypse reordered my priorities, surviving took the top slot and smoothies took their necessary place far lower than that, but I needed something to keep me going. Obviously fooling around with my fiance was out of the question for the next couple millenia, and all of my friends were fucking gone, that left pleasurable projects that don’t require too much overt brainpower, such as what men normally did like working on cars or carpentry. But since both of those options were out of the picture due to the post-apocalyptic conditions, making a greenhouse or jungle definitely more likely to be in the realm of possibility.
“I could take a week or so and try to relax.” I muttered, justifying finally working on a project that zero people would push for. “Hell, I deserve it! And honestly, I could probably make a damn fruit jungle in a week if I wanted to.” I conjured a stone ball and threw it up at the ceiling, tossing it over and over again as I made its shape morph according to my whims. First a pyramid, then a sphere, then a weird polygon, then a cube. “What else is nature sorcery good for if not for the pursuit of the ultimate frozen fruit confection?”
Banishing the stone, I jumped to my feet buoyed with thoughts not filled with death or danger. I purposefully strutted out of the Lab, down the tunnel, and up out of the Hole. Darkness barely illuminated by the dancing stars greeted me as I took a deep breath of fresh air.
“Greetings Master!”
A hamadryad’s sweet voice was not what I wanted to hear at this damn time of day, or night since I completely lost track of the hour. Yes, Consciousness Sorcery has an internal clock but I didn’t bother to check it in my excitement.
“Aren’t humans usually in the soft embrace of the little death right when the sun hides his face?”
I rolled my eyes at the luscious creature that looked far too much like Meliad for my liking. Sometimes, the dryads seemed to be clones of each other. “Sleep, woman, it’s called sleep. And what’s your name? Meliad is in her cocoon thing.”
Her sly pout at being corrected didn’t stop me from glaring at her even as she ignored my question. But it was cute enough to stop me mid sentence.
I coughed, forcing my brain back on task. “And I’m gonna do whatever the hell I want when I want. Now, I’d bet you have a bunch of young dryads who’d love to help me out if I asked them to, right?”
Her sultry smile and curvy figure brightened in the starlight giving off a soft green glow. “But of course! I can have a grove here by the dawn’s loving light if you wish! I’ll make sure they’re the prettiest of . . .”
“Nope,” I interrupted, “It’s not for me. I don’t care what they look like. No banging dryads for me unless you want to piss off that root of Yggdrasil over there.”
Her face was devastating, that pout, oh my god. I almost couldn’t resist.
I didn’t take a step back to avoid the issue, like a man. Crossing my arms, I frowned at Nature's perfect temptation. “Not kidding, woman! Just need a couple tree-ladies to tend the garden that I wanna make.”
She drew back with a jiggly gasp. “But not partake of nature’s bounty? It’s freely offered, and the Mother is never stingy with what is hers. Sharing is nature’s way!”
I rounded on creature who was clearly more knowledgeable about the carnal side of man than the restrained side.
“It’s not about that,” I growled at her. “Nature also eats itself and anything that is weak. Also, it’s the fact that I don’t want to. Sure, using Flesh Sorcery to suppress my sex drive is a bit of a cheat that no man would ever have the chance to use let alone even think of it that way. But it’s more than that. When I date or fuck, I date or fuck one at a time. I don’t have the time or energy for more than one woman at a time; that’s just too much energy let alone the money and focus. I had friends who could date or be with several at a time but I couldn’t. And what makes it worse is that I know it’ll take a long ass time to see my woman again and I’ll probably have a girlfriend as the ages drag on, but not right now. It’s still too fucking soon.”
My rant didn’t just silence her, but shamed her. I could see it in her doe eyes, the bewilderment at my reaction combined with her puzzlement at the kind of man that would turn her down. I mean, yes, I’d love to have a good roll in the hay, and it would probably help me out in a bunch of ways, but I couldn’t do that right under the awning of my future wife.
I’m fucked up, but not that fucked up, at least for now. And it’s weird to divulge my thoughts in such a blatant manner, but somehow my guard was down. Must be the stress.
Watching me like a feral cat that discovered that children like to pull on tempting tails, she backed up and I visibly relaxed. With a slow formal bow, the mysterious dryad gracefully conceded my position and took a step back. “My deepest apologies, Master. I did not know the depths of your pain nor the anguish in your heart. I will gather the dryads for your garden and let them know of your will. We shall commune with the Mother in the morning. Please, rest. Nothing but peace shall enter here.”
A calm night breeze picked up as she dissolved into green motes, leaving me to my thoughts.
“Stupid, root.” Gravelly words broke the silence. “All, of, them. They, do, not, think.”
Turning off to the side, I saw a big boulder at the edge of the clearing that wasn’t there before. “Everest? That you buddy?”
His eyes opened. They glowed red in the growing dark, but it wasn’t creepy like the horror movies always made red out to be. The rubies were clear and their edges were octagonal in shape, making it almost look comically like a lava lamp stuck in a rock.
“Roots, don’t, think. Rocks, do. It’s, our, hobby.”
I chuckled at the simplistic thoughts of my guardian golem. I suppose that from his point of view we were all a bit lacking in the thinking department, especially since they get most of eternity to think. What else are earth elementals good for if not pondering heavy thoughts? Maybe to them, we’re just momentary distractions as they endure the turning of the seasons. I’m just glad he didn’t call me a ‘root’. Hell, I’d ask for some of his thoughts if I didn’t know it would take forever to get them out of him.
“Thanks man,” I chuckled, turning to survey the area in the dim light of the moon. No hamadryads in sight. Spot wasn’t even in his normal sleeping divot at the edge of the clearing. It’s hard for me to look around and believe that this entire area was one big suburb.
I could still see it clear as day. My house was right behind me under the freaking World Tree, and there were two houses to the right and ten to the left where the street ended. Behind our houses were little yards with what my fiance would have called ‘cute’ fences. Even further behind that was a nice dog park and a jungle gym for the neighborhood kids to plan on. Now, it was just one big ass forest. The small Rappahanock river two miles from my residence was several times wider and deeper than before, and even the fancy museums and little shoppettes of downtown Fredericksburg were now rolling hills and epic rock formations.
Squatting down in the middle of the clearing in front of the Hole, I used a bit of Earth and Nature sorcery to make two comfortable lawn chairs with the perfect amount of incline to them. Wide, flat vines grew up out of the ground and wove into a nice chair with a bit of spring to it. The back and butt grew a layer of very soft flower petals that smelled wonderful. The wood curved nicely into a Windsor style chair with the proper support columns for the back. I loved it but I had to be fair to the experiment.
Standing up, I examined chair number two. Gingerly testing it out, I placed my derriere right in the proper curve. “Ahh, sweet heaven!” I said. “The design reminds me of the ‘Hobbit’.” I looked down. The basic structure was stone, but the portions of the chair facing up were hardened clay with layers of softer clay on top of it with yet another layer of soft grass on top of that that any country club would be proud to have as their green. It was a cross between a nice beach chair and the most comfy lawn chair. Before I knew it, I was out.