He stood at the banks of the 'Thought Stream', but it was anything but calm at this point. White water rushed and roared loud. Not enough force to uproot trees or wash away large debris. But anything that entered it would be steadily whisked away.

The bank he stood on was the only light green mass of ground which seemed to hold him and maybe a few others. It didn't stretch very far, rather disappeared into the dark. And around him there was nothing else around but darkness. And the green bank. And the white rapids.

He stood several steps away from the 'Thought Stream' his sneakers and clothes were dry despite the spray that ought to come from the water, yet there was none. Blue jeans and a plain fitted black t shirt. What his Avatar wore. He had called the being on the outside that, but he often wondered sometimes, perhaps he was the avatar? But it didn't matter. His job no, his purpose was standing on this bank in front of this stretch of water. Like the ground on which he stood, it had no beginning nor end but disappeared into the infinite.

There was a clear reason for existing here. It would begin again soon.

He stood motionless in body and expression. His face may have been described as serene. He studied the river.

"Hey, my friend said something racist. Yeah, my friend said he might blow something up."

Stolen story; please report.

The voice of the two drunken squinting grinning faces slouched at the counter of the glowing night bar spun around from out of the darkness like a carefully flung playing card. The two were captured in a tinted square glass, as if they were captured and locked inside of it as it whirled around until landing in the water. He watched expressionless as the flow carried them downstream, the voice of the statement repeating but getting fainter and fainter until it faded away and there was only the stream.

He suddenly felt a rumble, as everything shook around him. He looked up and saw naught but darkness, but in another world, perhaps the avatars he could feel the tumultuous sky move. He had never seen nor felt the sky but for captured in a glass image, but he felt it was moving, reshaping itself to let in light.

His face never changed but he knew it had worked, if only a short moment. He had no idea no assurance of how long it would last, except that it wouldn't be permanent. He needed to keep working.

Out of the black void came another glass window, flipping itself end over end.

There were no voices nor sound only a scene of a blurred vision bleeding out of his torso, the knife in a shaking hand, loose fingers on a cutting board.

Was there another figure there? He couldn't tell if it was done to himself or another.

The mirror reflected the awful scene until it floated like a leaf upon the waters and was carried away. He simply stared as it went outside his vision. Another rumble. Now it felt as if something was reactivating itself somewhere, a set of Tesla coils heating up. He knew of Tesla, the inventor, but also a company in the Avatar's world. He had seen both.

He felt a rumble and a heaving surroundings. More light through the clouds. More warm tesla coils. More images, sounds. That's all he thought of them as, images and sounds with no meaning.

He watched them come and watched them go. Down the endless river.