So...where did I leave off?

That's right.

I found myself, from my dorm room, via the universe sea, left of the Backrooms, in the middle of a cobblestone street surrounded by brick and mortar buildings, with lots of copper and pipes, and dials and cogs and gears.

A gentleman had helped me to my feet, and I was clutching his hand a little too firmly to be polite. In my left hand was my cell phone. Wow. You can cast me across the vastness of the universe, and still not separate me from my phone. I felt troubled about my generation and that my priorities may be skewed.

"I feel very prepared for my exam. It's important to have little things like that to remember." I smiled to the crowd. "Also, have an essential oil for each subject. Mint for math, lemon for English, so on and so forth. Right before the test, you crack open the bottle and dab it on your desk. Helps you remember."

A lady, with long elegant black hair and an oval face, touched gentleman's shoulder, clearly being possessive.

I adjusted my bathrobe, suddenly glad that my shorts and t shirt underneath were covered. Everyone here seemed to be committed to the dress code. I did not see a naked elbow anywhere, let alone an exposed ankle.

No one spoke. Please speak English.

The day was gray, and the bricks were red like a new penny. Also, did I mention all the copper pipes?

"Has anyone got the time?" I asked.

The gentleman removed his hand from mine, but left me with the embroidered handkerchief. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a literal fob watch, and said, crisply in a British accent "A quarter to three."

That he spoke English did not reassure me. In fact, it made me wonder if I had gone crazy. If I was really in another world, then what are the odds that everyone speaks English?

If I were any other person, who found themselves in a strange place, who considered it probable that they were insane, I might have done something embarrassing and radical. Tap dance, punch random people in the throat saying 'You're not real!', or confessing my crush on that one boy who held the door for me first day of class.

But even though I thought I was insane, I have social anxiety. And some measure of survival instincts. So I nodded at the gentleman, the lady, and the crowd.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

I wish I could do a good British accent. Why is it always a British accent? "Pardon me, then." my American accent as subdued as I could make it. "I have an exam to get to." And I shuffled away.

"Miss." the gentleman said. "Do you know what you were doing?"

I smiled awkwardly, like when you're at the loud party and you can't quite hear what is said but are too embarrassed to admit it. "Mhh?"

"You jaywalked against the sign."

I smiled, tapping my ears. I also grabbed a lock of my hair, just to confirm this wasn't one of those reincarnated stories where the MC steals someone else's body. But my hands appeared to be my hands, and that was clearly my hair. Why was it so red?

"I'm sorry." I said. How serious could Jaywalking be?

"I'm sorry too, Miss. But you're going to have to come with us for questioning. Just to make sure you aren't a repeat offender."

This was crazy anyway. What were the chances of a world developing just like Earth? Having the same police institutions as England as of...whenever the industrial revolution went on? (I know when it happened, I've just been studying my brains out for an accounting exam. Don't judge me!)

Well...I might as well try. "Do you have identification?"

He pointed to his tie, and the crowded snickered at me like I was an idiot. "Deputy Constable Hawthorne."

Great. Sounded like a cop. But I had no way of knowing if that was a real cop, or one of those re-enactor people. I did not want to follow random people anywhere. Even if this was just in my head. Never let anyone put you in their car or pull you away from the crowd.

The woman spoke, and I noticed she was wearing the same silvery tie as the gentleman. "Deputy Constable Yu Lin." She identified herself. She had a Chinese accent to her words. Expect it wasn't...quite right. It was close, but it was different from my roommate. I realized that the Deputy Constable Hawthorne's British accent wasn't quite right either. Like it was close to the crisp and clipped accent from TV, but just...subtly different. "It's for your safety, miss. You were in the Steam. You're not in trouble. But the Steam can show people odd things, and it can mess with the mind."

Oh. Good. I must actually be from here, fallen in the mist, created the entire scenario in my head. Any second now and the nightmares of 18 plus years of living on Earth would drift away.

Drat. Didn't work. Didn't think it would, but could you blame me? I wasn't from here, but at least they seemed to think that I belonged. (Thank you fancy silky bathrobe and slippers).

Did they not see me appear out of thin air? I looked back where I had landed. It was like a rounded gutter on the middle of the street. No one walked over them, but all traveling dutifully over grates placed at intervals. There was a cool and nearly tangible mist coiling along it, and I had the idea that it wasn't normal standard fog. I had, in fact, appeared there. I adjusted my robe. I had a feeling if the shoulder came down I would be in trouble for indecent exposure. "Am I in trouble for Jaywalking?"

"Standard procedure."

I felt the weight of the crowd. I may be crazy, or this was real, but social anxiety is real no matter where you go. So peer pressure works, regardless of what universe you find yourself in. "I will follow you..." the woman took my arm, and from her grip I knew there was no chance for me to slip out and escape. "Great. I look great in stripes."