Planar Hollow

“…My first impression of myself was in a world very different from the one we live in now, in a time long, long ago. It was a world made of lines. Straight, horizontal lines. Most lines were solid, though some were translucent, and others almost transparent. When moving through space, the lines sometimes became darker and other times lighter. They could grow longer, and then shorter. There were also dots. Lots and lots of dots, and lots and lots of dashes. It was very peculiar to see the world in this way.

Traveling was also strange. I didn’t walk the way we do here on earth. Moving was very smooth, my body always projecting in a straight line.

Perhaps the oddest thing in this world, though, was how I ate. When I got hungry, I ate lines. I only ate the green ones. After I ate them, I would spit them out through the same orifice that I took them in through. Most times, it seemed the lines I ate didn’t agree with me. And when I spit them back out, they looked different. They were brown, dashed, and they had a most foul smell. Though malodorous, they did have the effect of satiating me. It was in this that I realized my eating orifice and my excreting orifice were one and the same. Most bizarre and rather gross! But when I came to think of it, if I had an eating orifice separated from my excreting orifice, connected through a common channel, well then, my body would have been bisected, with nothing holding the two halves together!

This is just how it was in Planar Hollow. Again, it was very different from how we exist here on Earth today.

I lived in a small house in that remote village of Planar Hollow. The house was built of just four straight lines. I wasn’t sure if it had a roof or floor, because I naturally could not look up or down. I was only able to see straight in front of me.

I lived with my wife and daughter in that house. We were happy and content. We had everything we needed, and nothing more.

Back then, I didn’t know what I was or even what I looked like. Our home didn’t have any mirrors. I was able to see my wife who was a straight line, and my daughter who was a dot. As such, I assumed I was also a straight line like my wife. I thought nothing further of the matter.

We lived a modest life. I worked as an engineer for the village planning commission, and my wife worked as a grade school teacher. My daughter attended the same school my wife worked at, though she was taught by a different teacher.

Our lives were plain and predictable. Predictable, up until that day I was invited to meet The King at his castle on the hill. The King’s House had sent an invitation for me to attend that year’s gala. In the past, the invitation was only offered to high-ranking officials and noblemen. That year though, they invited a few of the village residents, mostly scientists and other scholars like me.

K║C

The Lord Prism is commanded by The King to invite

Balthazar Octagon

The Kingdom’s Annual Gala and Planning Event

at the King’s Castle on the Hill

on Saturday, 21st February 1386 at 6:00pm

Black Line Affair - RSVP by Sundown

I had seen The King’s castle from a distance many times, but never ventured outside the village to get near it. To say I was excited to see the castle up close would have been an understatement. To view its’ insides and to meet The King thrilled me. And to see a hill up close would be fascinating, I thought. In Planar Hollow, there were no hills, only flat planes.

The night before the gala, I laid out my nicest black line tie and shined my footpad. I left my house and headed in the direction of the castle in the early evening. Walking down my street I happened upon a friend – Doctor Facsimile – who was also attending the gala. On the way, we spoke of things I cannot remember now. They must not have been very meaningful, but then again, our minds were preoccupied with the potential wonders of the castle on the hill.

When we arrived at the castle, the King’s assistant received us at the front terrace. Once all attendees were aligned, the gates were shut. The King’s assistant – Lord Prism - addressed us,

“Ladies and gentlemen. It is with great pleasure that King Cubic welcomes you here tonight to his castle. Before we enter the main ballroom, if you have any coats or handbags you would like to check, please do so down the stairs to your left. Then please join us back in the antechamber,” Lord Prism said.

‘Down the stairs’ – what a peculiar phrase I thought to myself. What even was this word ‘down’? I had never heard it before.

Without a coat to check, I shuffled myself ahead into the antechamber. I stood waiting, packed tightly with other guests. Who were these guests and what were they? I asked myself. They all looked so different from the people in Planar Hollow.

“The name’s Doctor Facsimile of Planar Hollow. And you would be?”

“Doctor Facsimile? What happened to you?” I asked.

“What happened to me?” he asked.

“You’re not a line anymore. You’re eight lines. Eight different people in one!” I shrieked.

“He is still one person. He’s just an octagon now, just like you sir,” Lord Prism interjected.

“Octagon?” I asked.

“An octagon is an eight-sided shape. You are seeing things from a different perspective here. And you will see even more new things very soon,” Lord Prism replied.

The walls around us closed.

When we were fully circumscribed in that inner chamber, the most curious series of events took place. A rumbling enveloped us. From where, I could not tell. Looking back now I can say it was, in fact, from below. I had never imagined something could exist beneath my body. This was the direction that Lord Prism had referred to as ‘down’ when he told us to check our coats earlier.

The room shook, and a woozy feeling came over me. That feeling I now know was that of vertigo. We were moving upwards. By God, a fourth direction! What other surprises awaited us I could not even imagine.

As we drifted in these new directions, my eyes came upon things outside of the two-dimensional world - the world that I had lived in all my life. No longer did I see single lines, but I saw many lines next to each other, connected in weird ways. Lord Prism said the things we were now seeing were ‘shapes’. He pointed them out, naming each one – circles, squares, rectangles, trapezoids, pentagons, and many other polygons. As we rose upward, these shapes changed, mutating before our very eyes. Circles turned into ovals. Squares turned into trapezoids. It was as if their shape changed relative to how they were perceived by us, their observers. What an odd thing to observe. Everything I knew about the world was changing in that very moment, and it was astonishing. I saw a new world, or the same world I had lived in, but from new eyes.

When I got to the ‘top’, I exited the elevator compartment and entered a second antechamber. Guests spilled out of the compartment behind me, some falling onto the floor. The vertigo had overcome them. Many lay on the floor gripping their heads in discomfort. They were not used to the strong gravitational forces their three-dimensional bodies were imparting on them. Like a fulcrum, they bent at their centers of gravity, their heads tipping to the ground. Bodies slapped onto the floor. Some found it difficult to stand back up. Sliding forward then backward, like walking on ice. I also had a great deal of difficulty standing up. I had to support myself against a wall to keep from toppling over.

“Balthazar, what is happening? I feel sick to my ‘core’,” Doctor Facsimile said.

“Don’t look at your footpad. I just spilled my guts all over it,” I replied.

I wiped my mouth with my line tie and slowly walked forward, still bracing myself against the wall. With each step, my head boomed.

Through massive doors I entered a grand ballroom. Standing at the end of the room was The King. King Cubic’s upper body was naturally shaped like a cube. It stood on long skinny legs that had the appearance they would snap at any moment under the weight of his massive upper half. Two spindly wires for arms. Atop his head rested a hat shaped the same as his chest. On his face he wore a mustache with the ends curled up in rings below his nostrils.

“Welcome, residents of Planar Hollow, Dottenville, and Windwhistle! I am both delighted and honored to receive you here tonight to take part in The Kingdom’s annual gala. This is an event that I look forward to every year, as I’m sure you do as well. Without these events, we would not have been able to make The Kingdom what it is today. And that is because of you all. So, I thank you from the deepest part of my heart.

“With that, I would like to also thank Lord Prism for all the hard work he has put into making tonight happen.”

Lord Prism stood and took a bow.

Applause scattered like mice to a footstep.

“Lord Prism will soon be making his rounds with this evening’s 50/50 tickets. He also has tickets for sale to win many great prizes. Remember that all proceeds from tonight’s event will go to helping The Kingdom with the New Reconstruction Program. Now, Lord Prism will tell you more about the program and other important news. Lord Prism, if you will…”

“The King’s office had released a statement last month about the…” Lord Prism droned on regarding minor affairs of The Kingdom and such.

“…and now I would like to open the floor to any questions,” he said.

“What has happened to us? Why do we look like this?” Lady Rhombus demanded. She was leaning back in her chair at the front of the room. A folded towel was spread across her forehead.

“Yes, yes, maybe I should have led with that,” King Cubic interjected. “Good point, good point indeed Mizz Rhombus. I keep forgetting we have many new faces in attendance this year.”

King Cubic stepped back onto the podium looking towards the back row. He addressed the room.

“For those of you here tonight for the first time, again I welcome you. To explain for Mizz Rhombus and others, what you have entered is a world of three dimensions.”

He smiled.

“This world is quite different from your world of two dimensions,” King Cubic said.

“Quite different?” Lady Rhombus exclaimed. “You have turned us into monsters!”

“Oh, my dear, please don’t say that. You are not a monster,” King Cubic said.

“She is rather dramatic, isn’t she? I think our new bodies are rather swell, don’t you?” Doctor Facsimile whispered to me.

We were sitting in the back corner of the room, far from the exchange happening between King Cubic and Lady Rhombus.

“Oh, indeed it is Doctor. Very swell,” I replied in hushed tone.

King Cubic addressed Lady Rhombus again.

“What you need is some perspective. Then it will all make sense. You won’t be so scared then.”

King Cubic walked to the window overlooking the hill on which the castle stood. At the bottom of the hill was Planar Hollow and the other villages, and beyond it, a long expanse of undulating mountaintops spreading as far as my eyes could see. Left to right, nothing but striated rock, dotted with trees.

“When you gaze out of this window here, what do you see?” King Cubic asked Lady Rhombus and the others. “You see your villages. Those are the flat sections below.”

It looked like an animated circuit board, lines sliding in all directions, dots flashing, dashes moving quickly across its face.

“But lift your head and look further, look beyond the village, past the flat part. There you see something far different. Something like this very here castle. What you see is depth. These large three-dimensional shapes have great mass and depth. Now look up above the mountains and you see big white pillow shapes. Those are clouds filled with water - water different from the water in the villages. Water molecules here when linked together also form shapes through their ‘bonds’. Look at the puddle on the floor over there by the tree. It looks flat, but it too has depth. As flat as you could make it, should you zoom far in, you would still see a curved surface. The molecules pull themselves together and form an arc. That is surface tension.”

“You are casting black magic on us. Making our eyes deceive us,” Lady Rhombus yelled.

“It is not black magic. Just a fact of this world.”

“Why does this matter to us?” someone from the crowd asked.

“It doesn’t matter to you now. But it will matter to you very soon. See, I want to give your villages what they have been missing ever since the beginning of time. I want to give them the gift of ‘volume’. I want to give them a z coordinate!” King Cubic said.

Old Lady Rhombus let out a sharp screech. Everyone locked their eyes on her.

“Blood and ‘ounds! This is the work of thy devil himself. You are trying to infect our souls,” she said.

“She’s right. You are trying to poison us with witchcraft and sorcery,” another said.

“There is no such thing as a third dimension. This ‘z-coordinate’ is not real. Clearly this is an illusion. You lie with a latchet!” Lady Rhombus said.

Doctor Facsimile came swiftly to the defense of the King, “Oh silence yourself Lady Rhombus, you harridan! You would find fault with any fat goose that was presented to you. You have yourself on the high ropes for nothing. The King speaks only in the name of progress and the advancement of our collective edification.”

The Doctor always spoke with a lot of big words.

“If playing up old gooseberry is what you mean by progress Doctor, then to bloody hell with the lot of you.”

“It is ok Doctor,” King Cubic said, holding his hand up to settle the Doctor down. “It is natural that Mizz Rhombus and her friends here are apprehensive. These are fantastical revelations that are a big pill to swallow. For Christ Almighty, there are people out here in the three-dimensional world that still believe the world is flat. And they have been living on its curved surface their entire lives!”

Lady Rhombus stormed towards the Ballroom’s exit, “Release this door straight away, caterpillar!” She barked at the red guard standing at attention.

The guard side-stepped in front of her, blocking her from leaving.

“Let her go. She is not yet ready to open her eyes to what we have to show her. But she will be back, that she will,” King Cubic said.

Lady Rhombus left with her cronies in tow. Some stragglers followed. Then the doors were closed.

“Moving on, yet again,” King Cubic said. “You all know me as the founder and King of this Kingdom. Now is the time that I should tell you I am a bit more than that. A lot more, in fact, as I am the creator of Planar Hollow and everything around it. I am the Creator of your… our Universe. And that includes you all. I am your Creator,” he said.

“You are our God?” the front row asked.

“I guess some would put it that way. But not exactly. I like to think of a God as one that is all-powerful and all-knowing. That, I am not. I have my limitations, just like you have yours. Still, I like to maintain the title of Creator,” King Cubic said.

“Who created you?” the back row asked.

“I don’t know,” King Cubic said.

“How do you not know? You are The Creator as you said,” the middle row asked.

“The same way you didn’t know who your Creator was before I just told you it was me,” King Cubic said.

“What was there before you created us?” the front row asked.

“Before you, there was not much of anything. Merely a single line that stretched endlessly. And before that, there was but a single point. And before that, well, before that, not even I know what was. I came into my own existence with that point.” King Cubic said.

“Did God create what was before the single point?” the back row asked.

“No one knows,” King Cubic replied.

“That’s because there was nothing before the beginning. Just like we were nothing before we were born,” said the middle row.

“But nothing is something,” shouted the front row.

“How could nothing be something? That is utter hogwash,” the middle row fired back.

The room broke out in incoherent chatter.

King Cubic interjected.

“We can speculate on this all day long. Until the cows come home. And we’ll never come to any conclusions. But, I can tell you concretely that your villages started as experiments. Your villages began squished between two plates. You and everything around you are the expelled contents of my giant dropper. But that is all history and fodder for a separate and rather long conversation. And I am not here to drone on about Creation. Rather, I am here to speak to you of your future, and a magnificent one it is. You are the forebears of my three-dimensional world. I would like to bring you into this next dimension, and beyond.”

A look of question came over King Cubic at that moment. He paused, motioning to Lord Prism.

“If you all will excuse me for a moment,” King Cubic said to the crowd.

Lord Prism took King Cubic’s place on the podium.

“You in the back,” King Cubic called from in front of the dais.

The Doctor stood up next to me.

“Doctor Multitudinous Facsimile of Planar Hollow. At your service King Cubic.”

The Doctor took a bow.

“No, not you,” King Cubic said.

The Doctor sat back down. His face had turned red as an apple. I could sense his shame.

“The fellow next to you.”

King Cubic pointed at me.

I froze in my chair. What could the King want from me, I thought. How did he even know who I was? I looked left and then right at the people around me.

“Yes, you sir. Please present yourself,” King Cubic said.

I stood bowlegged, holding the bench in front of me for support.

“Me?” I asked.

“What is your name sir?” King Cubic asked.

“Balthazar,” I replied.

“Also of Planar Hollow I presume?” King Cubic asked.

I shook my head.

“I thought it was you. Please come forward.”

King Cubic whispered into Lord Prism’s ear and handed him the microphone. I walked shakily up to the dais.

Seeing how shaky I still was, King Cubic held out his hand for me to grab onto for support. He held me under my armpit like I was an old man. My head still felt like my brain was sliding back and forth within my skull. I wished I could just raise the sluice gate and stop the waves from crashing, to make me feel better, at least for just a moment.

“Let us now start with the 50-50 drawing. Who is up to win some cash tonight?” Lord Prism asked. He walked to the front row bearing tickets in one hand and a wicker basket in the other.

The gala continued on as King Cubic and I exited the ballroom.

“Would you mind if we had a brief chat?” King Cubic asked me. He motioned to the staircase that led to the second floor.

I nodded to him and stepped forward.

“What is it that you want to chat about, King Cubic,” I asked.

“Please call me by my first name – Rubric. The formality of surnames makes me uncomfortable,” he said.

“I am sorry, yes sir, I mean, yes Rubric.”

I followed the King up the steps, my locomotion precarious, still getting used to the extra dimension. At the head of the steps, we arrived in a large sitting room. Around the room were couches on top of which sat thick pillows. At the center of the room, a large black billiards table with white balls.

“I would offer you to a game of pool, but it’s probably better if you have a seat,” King Cubic said.

I sat in a chair and cradled my chin in my hands, leaning forward with my elbows propped on my legs.

“I do appreciate you coming this evening. This event was not even supposed to take place this year, especially with the war going on, as you’d imagine. But still, I arranged it so that we could chat, just me and you. The gala created a pretext so as not to draw any unnecessary attention to this meeting between us,” King Cubic said.

“And what are we chatting about,” I asked. You can imagine I was very nervous at this point. I still didn’t know the nature of our ‘meeting’.

“Do not be afraid Balthazar, you are not in any type of trouble. You are here because I need your help,” he said.

“Well, whatever I can do,” I replied.

“Balthazar, I have been watching you for a while now. Your work on linear accelerators is quite impressive. I understand you were recently awarded the Lefkowitz prize for up-and-coming engineers under 45-degrees.”

“There were many worthy researchers this year,” I said bashfully. I always was rather embarrassed in these types of situations. I would rather have had someone else win that award, even if I rightfully deserved it, rather than have to face my peers and accept praise.

“You are too humble Balthazar. You’re a great engineer,” he said.

“Thank you, Rubric. I am flattered.”

“A man like you could do a lot of good for our people.”

The King pivoted on a singular point.

“What do you know about Pyngmalion?” he asked me.

I closed an eye and cocked my head to the ceiling, feigning deep thought.

“Pyngmalion, he is a trapezoid. I believe you both worked at Shapeco together,” King Cubic added.

“Ahh, yes, we did. Indeed. That was a long, long time ago. We weren’t too close. I think we only collaborated on one or two projects together.”

I had lied. I knew far more about Pyng than I wanted to admit, especially to the King.

“That’s all?” he asked.

I paused to collect my thoughts, or embellishments, rather.

“He’s a good engineer. Likes to work alone like me. Maybe that’s why we didn’t really get along,” I said.

“So you weren’t on good terms,” King Cubic asked.

“I wouldn’t say that. We just had different career paths. We were interested in different types of research,” I said.

“You said you two didn’t get along,” the King prodded.

“Well, we weren’t friends, but we also weren’t enemies,” I said.

More lies. But I trusted Cubic when he said that, though he was our Creator, he wasn’t all-knowing and couldn’t read our minds for that matter. Still, his face showed he was mistrusting with my answers.

A chill crept down my octagon.

“What is the problem with Pyng,” I asked.

I was already speaking too much, even that one question. Cubic never said there was a problem, just that he needed help. So why did I ask about a ‘problem’? And abbreviating Pyngmalion’s name definitely let on some past closeness between the two of us. I was like a drunk blowing his cover with the slurring of only a few words.

“It’s tricky, but Pyngmalion has me and my constituents backed into a corner,” King Cubic said.

“But you’re the King. He can’t push you around.”

“That’s why it’s tricky. I am the King, sure. But I am also the Creator. So, there is a conflict of interest. And due to that conflict, I cannot force anyone’s hand. It has to do with the Fates and whatnot.”

“What would you like me to do?” I asked.

“I would like to make you King. Take over my position,” King Cubic said. He had the most generous smile on his face.

“I don’t know anything about being a King. Surely, I am not qualified. I’m just a regular man,” I said.

“It’s not as difficult as you might think. And imagine this, you get to live in this giant castle.”

Sitting there, I felt another case of vertigo rising up inside of me.

“Balthazar, maybe you don’t see it in yourself, but you are far from just an ordinary man. You have a beautiful mind. I put extra work into making your kind,” King Cubic said.

“And what if my answer is no?” I asked hesitantly.

“Like I said, I cannot force anyone’s hand.”

“Can I have a moment to use the washroom?” I asked.

King Cubic pointed to a door across the room.

I excused myself and hobbled my way down the hall.

I entered the washroom and locked the door behind me. I looked at the wall. As I moved, the wall moved. I stared at it for a bit. My eyes looked bigger than they felt on my face. They appeared to be growing as I stared at them. On the left and the right of my large eyes, smaller ones appeared. Those also continuing to grow. And above them, two more eyes appeared. Six eyes in total – all of them, small black pebbles stretching into ever larger bulbous globes. Small spiky hairs poked out through my skin. They popped up, one at a time in random places. Then fangs appeared – little hooks in the corners of my mouth.

A metamorphosis.

I was turning into an ugly beast, just like Lady Rhombus predicted!

A sweat broke over me.

I steadied myself on my feet. Something told me to run. To get out of there as fast as possible. I dashed from the washroom and down the hallway. Passing King Cubic, I shouted my apologies and said that I would get back to him on his offer. I ran down the stairs through the ballroom and out the front door. The guard sitting sentry at the door was not even fully to his feet when I blew past him.

Ω

“Octavia,” I called into the house as I flung the front door open.

No answer.

I called again, this time louder.

“Mom is not here, she left a while ago,” my daughter said.

“Where did she go,” I asked.

“She didn’t say. I heard the door shut and she was gone.”

“When did she leave?”

“You just missed her,” my daughter said

I went into the yard and checked the garden. Maybe she was collecting lines for our supper, I thought to myself.

The yard was empty, so I went back into the house.

“Your mother’s not out back. She’s gone,” I said into the hallway.

Ω

At my coronation, as Cubic had called it, most everyone from The Kingdom was in attendance. From the lowly ragtag hustlers of Dottenville, milling about in the thickest parts of the crowd looking for their next pocket to pilfer, to the sublime dignitaries of Windwhistle, lined like toy soldiers flanking the stage in their parallel suits. Ribbons of tape streamed low in the sky, circling in giant eddies like a planet’s rings.

The z coordinate project was fully under way, already up to three meters by that morning. From the podium I could see to about the back row of the crowd just below the film of paper.

I scanned that motley hoard, past the noblemen and gentry, into the sea of my fellow countrymen. I searched for the specter that dared not show his face.

“Residents rejoice. Today is a new day, marked by both change and progress,” King Cubic clamored.

The crowd cheered, and a few jeered.

A child cried.

A woman shouted, accosted by a pickpocket that scattered like a roach when he was called out.

A cacophony of coughs between King Cubic’s declarations.

“By the week’s end, our z will reach its zenith, and the azimuth will be complete. You will be able to see to the top of the New King’s castle and beyond. To the stars!”

“To the stars,” the crowd chanted.

“To the stars,” King Cubic screamed, this time without amplification.

The band played.

“And now, I present to you, your New King – King Balthazar,” Cubic declared.

They cried for me. Or at least they cried for a new day.

I was terse where Cubic was prolix. “I will do my best to make this new world a place for your children, and your children’s children to prosper,” I said.

I stood on bended knee as that miniature pointed obelisk passed me from head to toe, left then right.

The tape settled and the square cleared.

Still no sign of the phantom Pyng.

Ω

“What does he want with her?” I asked.

“You,” Cubic said.

“He can have me. He didn’t need to take her just to get to me.”

“But if he came for you first, you would have resisted. He knows that. With her, now you will give him anything he wants. She is just a bargaining chip. So don’t know worry about that, he will let her go in due time,” Cubic replied.

“We will not bargain with terrorists,” I said.

Cubic looked at me, perplexed.

“That is a trusted policy. But we are talking about your wife here, King Balthazar. Just give him what he wants and be done with it.”

“We will not bargain with terrorists!” I repeated, slamming my fists on the table.

Something inside drove me quickly to this stalwart position. For some reason, I had determined that Pyng’s decisions were already solidified. That the oil had coagulated and would not flow again, no matter. I might have been too impulsive, rushing to my judgments.

As my éminence grise, Cubic worked tirelessly for the safe return of my wife, of course with my help. We did not sleep for those last three weeks, strategizing, but above all else, hoping endlessly. Just when we thought we were making headway, their side shifted. They acted when they must have realized that we would, in fact, not bargain. Pyng knew me all too well. Cubic learned the same. But Pyng did not act out of a commitment to his own strategy, he acted out of malice. It really was of no consequence to his overall position in the war. He was just a ruthless tyrant.

Ω

The package arrived at my house the next morning. My poor daughter was the one to receive it directly from the courier. She brought it in from the front terrace to me, still unopened. I’m sure she recognized that floral smell of lavender just as well as I did.

I didn’t want to open it. But yet, I felt compelled to, at least to bring about a measure of closure to that part of my life.

I opened the box. At the top was a note written in cursive that read:

“It is ok. Please do not be sad. By the time you

have read this, I have already become infinite.”

Below the note, her locket with a photograph inside of our daughter. And below that, wrapped in a bundle were her eight lines. I lifted the bundle and untied it. Held the lines in my hands. They broke down into dots, and then spilled through my fingertips like sand to the ground. Picked up by the wind, they scattered and then disappeared.

Back to the stars.

Back to dust.

Ω

On bended knee again, I had come full circle. Leaning forward, my chest received the point of the obelisk, and I let go. It took a moment to penetrate through all those new layers of flesh, hitting a bone on the way in and then changing course, the blade coming out my backside at an angle. I fell to the hilt, my newfound weight pushing me through it.

“How did I not protect you?” I asked aloud.

I turned my head, looking towards the sky. A red sphere shot across and disappeared in a trail of sparkles. Did it really? I asked myself. Or was my mind just fabricating the image to add some level of purpose to those final moments in my temporary vessel?

“Next time, you will not go alone,” I said.

I promised myself.

I promised her.

My head settled, cheek against dirty grit and oil.

I lay flat against the ground, back to where I had come from. An octagon, prone, against that cold pavement. My blood found the slightest depression in the cobbles, and traced a path back through the street, collecting in a pool at the foot of the curb. It drained through an open square in a metal grate.

We had just installed the first leg of conduit that would soon connect the villages through an underground web of pipework. Through that network I flowed. My pieces mixed with trash, leaves, macerated tissue paper, excrement, oil, water. Together we flowed past wye connections picking up more sewage. As the pipework got bigger and bigger, we rode on that wave of effluent downstream.

An alligator lurking behind a forty-five-degree turn snapped at a pentagon floating next to me.

“I wouldn’t eat that if I were you,” I said to the alligator.

“I wouldn’t befriend an alligator if I were you,” he replied.

“What are you going to do? Kill me? I am already dead.”

THE END

December 2022