[Good day, Mayfield. You may notice that there is a young man you have never seen before walking down your streets. Every now and again, he pauses to inspect cars and hydrants and signs and really, everything that is fairly standard in a town from the 1950s.
Unfortunately, this young man is from some time in the 1800s, and furthermore, an alternate
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P-pardon me, sir...
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Yes?
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[Oh come ON. Why does this always happen to him.]
I am afraid I don't.
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Still, she approaches, smiling a little] Sir? Are you alright?
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Oh, yes, merely trying to figure out the best way to force-quit a simulation generator while inside the simulation.
[You know. Standard fare.]
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...What?
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...Nothing.
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THIS.
FACE.
STARING AT KLAUS. WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT SHE DOESN'T EVEN...]
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It looks like Lucrezia
but...]
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[Because you're OOOOOLD]
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They can't even spell colours right. Ples notices him talking at the sky. Of course, he looks up at it too. But just to be sure. ]
P-pardon me, but... is there something up there?
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Nothing but clouds, unfortunately. And possibly my best friends, laughing at me and my inability to get out of this little bubble reality.
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[ Looks up again. ]
I-I can't seem to find any bubbles.
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What in the world...
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