The day Ives found the interdimensional keys was nothing notable. What the keys did to him was.

It was his fault. For he abused the keys one thousand too many times. He saw the proverbial check engine light but did not see it fit to check it with his father, who was perhaps not a whiz at futuristic technology but could fix up and resell the family Mini Cooper… such was Ives’s thoughts.

He was stuck in the blank space.

He never quite knew what it was, just that it was, and it was there, and that he kept finding it there. This time—he knew! He felt shivers, and the keys stalled in space—he knew he could not escape.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

A wooden chair stood on four crooked legs in the middle of the infinite room. Ives examined it. He was grateful that it wasn’t rosewood.

There was only ever one option for him. He thought maybe he would procrastinate on his task. He could busy himself. Like an explorer, he could search every nook and cranny of the empty arena. This would be the best chance he could get. Maybe he would find something interesting?

“… Well…” Ives sighed. That idea was a shot in the bright dark. Plus, moving around would take too much work.

He felt around the edges of the chair that shone with foreboding. So conspicuous was its placement and so daring its invitation…

Ives plopped himself on the seat. He waited.