Back in his room, in the white bed, under too-white light, Morthisal wondered what was wrong with this world. It was too loud, too fast, and far too bright. This room, for instance, had a bed covered in white sheets and a tan blanket with honeycomb patterns. The walls were equally dull and lifeless. How did anyone live under such conditions?

Travious looked over his shoulder and pointed at the flat black box in the corner, hanging near the ceiling. “You can watch TV, you know. The remote's hanging next to the bed. Oh, almost forgot, I have your phone. The first responders who brought you in found it on the floor of the ambulance,” Travious said and handed him a slim piece of cold metal. “That’s yours, right?”

Morthisal nodded as he went along with it, reaching for the device, and in the process, his fingers brushed against Travious’s hand. A spark passed between them, and Travious yanked his hand back.

“Shocked me, bro.“ Travious shook his hand.

Morthisal’s eyes narrowed.

“Travious,” Morthisal lowered his voice. “How do you regard me?”

“You’re odd, man. That’s all.”

Morthisal focused on the shock. It still lingered like a thread. He reached out and…

Travious’s eyelids lowered halfway, and his pupils became two tiny pinpoints. “Um. Shit, man. You’re fucking weird, okay? I don’t really like being around you. It feels gross, and I don't know why.” Travious gasped and stepped back suddenly. "I'm sorry. So sorry! I don't know what just came over me!" He looked at Morthisal and backed up. The man took a step back, then another, turned and practically fled the room.

“That was unexpected. And yet…” Morthisal’s words trailed off as he realized the thread that connected him to Travious was still there, though it was weak.

Bored, Morthisal picked up the piece of cold iron and glass that had been left next to the bed.

The device came to life as he brought it toward himself. An image of a sleek yellow carriage appeared that had been constructed of hard angular planes. Morthisal turned the piece of metal around, studying the back and sides. The light died. When he touched the screen, it came to life again.

“Everything okay in here, Mr. Logan?” Megan, the helper from earlier, poked her head into the room.

“Greetings, kind Megan. Might I trouble you for a moment of your time?”

“I’m on my way out,” she said, hand on the door frame, but she smiled and entered. “But you asked so nicely. What’s up?”

"My memory is not as it seems. Can you tell me about this device?" He held up the glowing slab of glass and metal.

"Your iPhone?"

"I phone." Morthisal quietly tried the words. He held the device out. "Can you show me how it works?"

Megan's brow furrowed as she looked from him to the phone. "They said your memory problems should be temporary. If you don't know how to use your phone, you've got bigger issues than simple memory loss."

"I agree, kind Megan. How does it work?" He proffered the device again.

"Just look at it and swipe up."

Morthisal's patience was wearing thin, but he found that putting on a kind front was getting farther with these peasants than his typical demanding self. He stared at the device.

Morthisal simpered, "If you would be ever so kind."

She sighed and reached for the phone. As her hand closed around the strange device, his fingers briefly touched his. He seized upon the brief contact, went for another thread, and hung it around her. As with Travious, this connection was just as weak, or perhaps weaker, but it was there.

"Now," Morthisal lowered his voice. "Explain this I phone to me as if I were a child."

"I can do that. My niece is six, and she's kinda stupid."

Megan reached out and snatched the metal and glass slab from his hands.

"First, you hold it like this," she said, demonstrating the proper grip. "Then press this button on the side."

The screen blazed to life, displaying the yellow carriage with four small wheels that had caught his attention earlier.

"What is that?" He pointed at the transport.

"I don't know. Some dickmobile, I guess. Looks like a Ferrari."

Morthisal tried the word Ferrari. It seemed to roll around in his mouth.

"What is a Ferrari?"

"It's a sports car. You know." Her voice sped up. "Goes super fast, or whatever."

"And this car has no horses, is that correct?"

"I guess they have a lot of horses under the hood, or it wouldn't go so fast. Me? I drive a Prius. For the environment. And because it's easy to park almost anywhere in Seattle."

Morthisal put his finger to his lips and tapped thoughtfully. This world was able to put tiny horses inside the small yellow carriage. Even at his full power, there was no way he could have performed such a feat.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

"Now you try. Just swipe up with your thumb," she explained, demonstrating the motion.

"Swipe?" Morthisal asked, the foreign word, like others, feeling strange on his tongue.

"Like this," she said, sliding her finger across the glass surface.

The image vanished, replaced by a grid of colorful squares. Each one bore a different symbol or picture, and their purpose was unclear to him.

"These are your apps," she continued, pointing at various icons. "This one here is Instagram."

Her finger tapped one of the squares, bringing forth a cascade of images. Some were of him, Vince Logan, and some were of small animals or locations that were entirely foreign to him.

"If you post pictures every day, you'll build a following. I'm just a nurse, and I have almost a thousand. To be fair, some of them are because of my feet, but not all." She shrugged. "But a lot." She looked away quickly.

The tenuous thread of power connecting them began to weaken. He concentrated, trying to maintain his grip on the strange influence he held over her, but it slipped through his mental grasp like water.

"Are you okay?" Megan asked, shaking her head as if clearing away cobwebs. "I felt weird for a second there."

Morthisal reached out with his will, attempting to reestablish the connection. Nothing. The power remained frustratingly out of reach, leaving him with only questions about its temporary nature.

"I'm fine," he said, keeping his voice steady despite his inner turmoil. "Please continue."

Megan blinked a few more times and then quickly got to her feet. "That's so weird. God. I have to go."

Before Morthisal could ask her to continue the lesson, she brusquely left the room.

For the next hour, Morthisal sat in the bed, tired and alone. Travious had pointed out yet another device, which he had called a remote and had said he should use it to "watch TV," whatever that meant. He lifted the strange block and found it covered in more buttons than the I phone. Morthisal ran his hands over the surface and found that the protrusions could be depressed. After mashing most of them, a flat dark window hanging from the wall across him flared into a burst of color.

An image quickly appeared, and it was moving!

"What is this?"

Morthisal stared at the glowing rectangle, his eyes wide with a mixture of fascination and suspicion. The moving images were unlike anything he'd ever encountered in his centuries of utilizing the dark magic arts. He cautiously lifted the strange block adorned with buttons, and turned it over in his hands.

"By the shadows," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Morthisal pressed a button marked with an upward-pointing arrow. The image on the screen changed, revealing a group of people who sat around a table, talking and laughing.

"Scrying magic?" Morthisal wondered aloud; his brow furrowed in concentration.

He pressed another button, and the image shifted again. This time, it showed a man in strange attire standing before a map covered in unfamiliar symbols.

"A war council?" Morthisal leaned forward, intrigued. But as the man began speaking of "high pressure systems" and "cold fronts," the former dark lord wondered why an army would make their battle plans known on this device. Surely the enemy would be able to discover their intentions.

Morthisal's fingers danced across the buttons, each press revealing a new wonder. People sat in gleaming metal contraptions racing at impossible speeds, creatures of unimaginable strangeness spoke in high-pitched voices, and individuals performed feats that would have required the most potent of enchantments in his world.

"What manner of wizardry is this?" he growled, frustration mingling with his awe.

As he continued to explore, Morthisal stumbled upon a scene that made him pause. It showed a group of people in white coats urgently moving around a person lying on a table. The scene bore an eerie resemblance to his current surroundings.

"These must be the healers of this realm," Morthisal mused, his voice tinged with grudging respect. He was captivated as the healers used strange implements and spoke in terms he couldn't comprehend. Their efficiency and skill reminded him of his own necromancers, though their purpose seemed to be the opposite—preserving life rather than manipulating death.

Suddenly, the image changed again, this time showing a vast expanse of water with enormous metal behemoths floating upon it. Morthisal's breath caught in his throat as he recognized the similarity to his own naval fleets. A deep voice issued forth from the screen and talked of exciting possibilities and finished with the person stating, "It's not just a job, it's an adventure. Join the United States Navy today."

"Perhaps this world is not so different after all," he murmured, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Recruiting on a scrying window of this sort was quite clever. Perhaps they shared their war plans as an incentive to join this country's naval force.

As he continued to explore this magical window into unknown realms, Morthisal found himself torn between amazement at the wonders before him and a gnawing sense of displacement. Each new image, each glimpse into this strange world, served as a reminder of how far he was from his own domain.

His concentration was broken when the woman known as Linda entered the room. She had a board with papers on the surface in one hand, and her brow was furrowed.

"Hello, Mr. Logan. I hope you're feeling better. I have a question about your insurance. Your co-pay is five hundred dollars, and it doesn't look like you have paid for it this year. That's fine. We can take the payment now or when you leave. There is one troubling issue, though, and I wanted to talk to you about it." The woman rambled on and on. She kept mentioning a cobra, and Morthisal couldn't figure out why a cobra was involved in this “insurance” at all.

Morthisal finally interrupted the woman and said, "Woman. I do not understand the words you are saying. My head was injured. Please desist."

Linda's mouth dropped open and then quickly snapped shut. "It's Linda. My name is Linda, and I would appreciate it if you could use my name." She lowered her voice and muttered, "Losing your memory is no reason to be an asshole."

"Pardon?"

Linda looked up. "As I was saying, there is an issue with your insurance.

Morthisal nodded along as Linda explained the intricacies of his insurance coverage, her words washing over him like an incomprehensible tide.

"Did you complete your enrollment documents? Your insurance looks like it is set to expire shortly," Linda said, her voice perfunctory, "there could be some issues with how much your insurance will cover your stay."

Morthisal maintained a semblance of understanding, bobbing his head in agreement as Linda continued her explanation. She spoke of deductibles, co-pays, and out-of-pocket maximums, terms that held no meaning to the displaced dark lord. He found himself marveling at the complex web of bureaucracy that seemed to govern this strange world's healing arts.

"I'm sure we'll get you sorted out. I just wanted to make you aware that there may be a larger out-of-pocket expense than expected," Linda elaborated, her fingers dancing across the papers on her clipboard.

Morthisal's brow furrowed. He had barely begun to grasp the basics of this world, and now he found himself entangled in a labyrinth of paperwork and regulations.

Linda, sensing his confusion, offered a sympathetic smile. "I know it's a lot to take in, especially given your current situation. The state does have options that might be able to help you navigate this process. You may even qualify for state paid insurance at no cost to you, but there will be some paperwork to get that started. Here is the web address."

Morthisal nodded, though none of this made sense. He had once commanded legions of undead, bent the forces of darkness to his will, and now he found himself at the mercy of a system he could scarcely comprehend.