In the wee hours of the morning, a pink bundling joined him.

“I saw the stars,” Eta said. “They were thick tonight, flowing into your room. I was going to go in, but you told me not to.”

She sat down and hugged her knees to her chest in the computer chair next to Dor’s, and he lit another menthol light with trembling fingers. “The stars were real,” he said, framing it somewhere in between a question and a statement.

Eta waved her hand through the air. “There’s less of them now, but those things happen. They come and go. That’s what makes them beautiful, that they’re only around for a little while.”

Dor forced a chuckle. Eta’s spoke with an odd coherence tonight, or perhaps, her coherence had always been there and he was too wrapped up in his own world to notice.  Taking advantage, he asked a question that had been on his mind.  “Who’s Scrub-bucket?” 

“Oh, you know Scrub-bucket,” she replied. “You met him. He told me.”

Dor shook his head. “Describe him to me.”

“My, now that is a challenge.” Eta thought and thought, humming to herself all the while. “He was a janitor, my sexy Scrub-bucket. Big muscles and a chiseled jaw, he was so handsome.”

She bit her lip and reminisced. “But then, the world changed and so did he. The world dyed red and Scrub-bucket was no longer Scrub-bucket. He went from being my sexy janitor to a child. He no longer wore the same body. I don't know how he did it, but it happened.”

Eta held up her hand, studying it with an odd fascination.

‘I’m the bunsack formerly known as God.’ Dor remembered that kid, his intruder saying at the start of all this. ‘Wait, that’s not right either. I’m a god in a bunsack body, but bunsacks are super weak, like you wouldn’t believe it—’

Dor opened his mind and didn’t take a second to consider the implications of his musings. This was an insane world and clinging to his sanity would only be a hindrance. That kid, he must be her Scrub-bucket. A ‘bunsack’ formerly known as God.

“Is Scrub-bucket God here?” Dor asked. “Are our worlds the same? Does he own them?”

Eta dug around in her blanket and pulled out a book: ‘Prometheus’ Jumpstart Guide: How to Skip Ten-Thousand Years of Stagnation’. She turned to the first page where hastily written characters and symbols scrawled some kind of dedication.

“I can’t read that,” Dor said.

“To my friend, Oenus. Take this book and leave my world alone, you psycho,” Eta read.

Then she looked up and explained, “Scrub-bucket’s friend gave him this book. It’s filled with wondrous ideas. Most are fables likely stolen from many people, but that’s how those things go.”

Eta flipped around until she found a certain page: ‘Chapter 247: Computers and their potential’. A diagram of a simple algorithm explained the concept behind them. Even Dor learned a thing or two as he skimmed over it. He turned the pages deeper and deeper into the chapter. Eventually, a diagram of a old computer monitor appeared, presumably one from the 80’s. Eta pointed to the monitor on the page, then to the glowing computer behind Dor.

“I thought they were all fables,” she explained. “But some hold truth, at least here they do.”

Eta turned to a dog eared page. On it, a diagram depicted a giant wheel outfitted with beads on the spokes. According to the description, the beads would slide from the inside to the outside of the spoke as the wheel turned, in theory creating a perpetual motion machine.

“He wanted to build wheelmen,” she said. “But those were a fable and the sky dyed red. Wheelmen don’t exist. You can’t live forever. Mister Jenkens won’t let you. He’ll send his wolves. Scrub-bucket tried with me…and now…and now…”

'--since Prometheus is back in Valrere, I’m gonna hide Eta here. ‘Cause of Mister Jenken’s wolves and all.'

Dor cursed that kid, but didn’t relent. Pity aside, he needed to understand what was going on. He couldn’t put it off any longer. His routine was shot the minute his monster appeared. No, the minute everyone vanished.

He shook Eta's shoulders before she could retreat into herself. “Who’s Prometheus?” He asked. “Is he another god? Is that it? Did he fail just like your Scrub-bucket?”

Eta looked up. “You’ve met him,” she said.

“When?” At that point, Dor was yelling. He couldn’t help it. It was all too much to take in. He really wanted to discount her blabber as inane drivel, but he couldn’t any longer. Her words held truth; confirmed by the same words as that kid's, but even more so, confirmed by the insanity his world was facing.

“Why, just now, silly,” Eta explained. “You just met him.”

I just met him? When? Then it hit him. The creaks, the night terror, the ceiling…that was Prometheus.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Dor lit another cigarette right off the butt of his current one, and chain-smoked it down to purify the air. Another snippet of his conversation with that kid came to him. ‘I reverse followed him here. Or rather, he was going one way, and I was going the other. That’s how I found this world. That’s what I do.’

It took a few moments for him to organize his next question. “Did you come from a different world?” He asked.

Eta smiled, light and airy. “Who knows?”

He remembered that kid, her Scrub-bucket, that wayward self-proclaimed god scanning the ceiling the moment Dor played Lou Reed over Spotify.

“Is this…is this Prometheus’ world?” He asked.

“Who knows?”

He just wanted to shake her. Don’t shake the baby.

Gods and monsters, it was all to much to take in. Nearly ready to break his recent bargain with his body, Dor reached for the handle of whiskey next to him. A gentle hand rubbed his shoulder. Click, click, click. A flame hovered overhead and his Dad lit a joint. He passed it down and Dor nearly cried. Dad’s face was as ragged as the monsters, but he never complained. He just always went along with the flow. I must have woke him up.

‘It’ll still be there in a minute, son’ Dad’s intentions were clear as day. However horrified everyone was, they just needed to take a minute to process the insanity, not retreat into a shell and deny it.

With Dad's help, the veil thickened in Dor’s mind, clouding his negative thoughts behind a curtain of smoke. It’s all insane…or maybe, it’s all true sanity. And I’ve always been insane, but am just now finding true sanity. Sometimes he wished he had a tape recorder to document his stoned thoughts.

“The prompt,” Dor stated as he broke out of his musings.

His old man pulled up a chair, urging Dor to continue.

“I don’t know if he’s God here or what, but that dude, Prometheus, he’s got control over the city,” Dor explained. “He was a god in the game. Remember that game I told you about, Dad?”

Dad nodded. “The one with boob leveling and whatnot.”

“Exactly. My ceiling, it came alive. That dude, that God in the game, he’s got control here and he lives in my ceiling.”

Dad didn’t say so, but Dor knew he’d lost him. Dad didn’t believe him. However, the great thing about his old man was, no matter if he didn’t believe Dor, he’d always support his son.

So, Dor continued undeterred. “I said no to the prompt, but I think, everyone else said yes. That’s why they disappeared. It was all too coincidental to begin with.”

The clothes slumped over the chairs, the cut-screen of death, one way out of the city, no way back in.

“You said it, Dad. It’s what them boys do at the top. It’s all about control and Prometheus controls this city. It was his prompt, his game, and now it's his city. That’s why leaving is a one-way trip. He controls the entrance. It’s all his!”

For Dor, the pieces all clicked in his mind. The minute he surrendered to the insanity, it all made sense. Likely, the ‘how’ would blow his mind. After all, Prometheus was a god who lived in the ceiling. But that part was superfluous. He didn’t need to know, and he didn’t care to know. He only needed to find his friends, and now knew exactly what to do to prove this mad theory.

“When I got outa jail, the prompt was waiting for me,” Dor explained. “You see? We just have to find a prompt. We just need to hunt down a computer and find a prompt that hasn’t been answered. That’s where Lulu and Jimmy are at. They’re waiting on the other side of a 'yes', except I said no, but now I want to say yes. Get it?”

He began sounding more and more like that crazy intruder he met, but Dor didn’t care. He’d found the right question and he was ready to say yes.

Dad scratched his scruff and looked over at his friend passed out on the floor. “Don’t go saying none of that to Ronnie,” he said.

“But you’ll help, right? You’ll help me?” Dor asked.

Before Dor got an answer, he turned to the monster hiding under the covers. “Eta, Eta, you’ll help, right? Come on, I know I’m a dick. But you’ll help me, right?”

She didn’t respond.

Dor snuffed out his joint and stood to his feet. “It doesn’t matter, then. I’ll find a prompt myself and from there I can find Lulu and Jimmy and Claire and even little Donny. Oh, I know!”

He ran into the kitchen and through the unhinged door of the cooler. Inside, he snatched up a bag of rawhide doggy treats off the shelves, little Donny’s favorite snack. He’d be so happy to get these.

Then a thought struck him. “Wait. If their clothes were slumped over the chair, that means they vanished completely naked. Shit, I can’t bring any snacks with me. Shit. Sorry, Donny.

"Wait! That’s it!” He cried.

Dor dropped the premade treats and ran back into the computer room. “Dad, how do you make rawhide? Do you dry bits of beef? Hold on, that’d just be beef jerky, right? What makes rawhide, rawhide? You know what? Forget it. I can just Google it.”

Amidst his Dad’s incredulous stare, Dor plopped down in front of his computer and began typing. ‘What makes rawhide, rawhide?’

Hmm…it comes from the inner layer of a cow’s or a horse’s hide. This is good to note. Surely there are cows and horses on the other side of the prompt. And clothes. God, I hope Lulu’s not running around naked. I’d kill that fuckin’ pervert Prometheus if that’s the case.

His mind whirled a million miles an hour. He had direction now, a plan all laid out. Even better, it was a plan he’d laid out himself. This might have been the first time he’d felt true self-satisfaction. He practically burst apart at the seams with pure sanity. Surrender to the insanity to find true sanity. As long as his catch-all rhymed, that meant it had to be true.

Dad and his monster didn’t contribute. Eta hid under her blanket and Dad sat back, not saying a word. That was fine. Dor had figured out this much on his own, and he just knew he was on the right track. Bringing along the knowledge of rawhide was just a bonus.

Dogs scratched at the door, but he ignored them. He had a mission.

A pack howled outside and Dor delved deeper into his studies. Single-minded focus was what he needed. Distractions led to negative thoughts and negative thoughts led to the bottle. The bottle was a retreat and he needed a veil.

Before too long, the walls began scraping. The dogs, they were itching to get inside. It took a lot of willpower, but Dor allowed the veil of smoke to cloud his surroundings. Somewhere along the way, Dad may have woke Uncle Ron up. Those two may have been panicking a bit, but Dor ignored it. ‘How to press rawhide into strips,’ he typed.

Dad shook his shoulder. “Somethings going outside, let it be, son. That’s not important.”

Dor waved his Dad off. “No, this is all that’s important.”

“Dammit, boy!” Uncle Ron hollered. “Is this more secrets? We’re fucking surrounded by a pack of dogs. Listen to ‘em out there. Get it together!”

No negativity. Don’t nurture those thoughts. The smoke struggled to maintain its veil.

A window upstairs broke, paws scampered across the floor, and a snarling mutt ran down the stairs.

The wolves had come for Eta, or more accurately, a pack of mangy greyhounds. When faced with that truth, not even the veil was thick enough to mask it.

"Shit," Dor reached for his bottle of whiskey, the only weapon he had on hand.