Thalen Skierth was upside down.
He had been peeking his head through the solid walls of his quarters, observing the fascinating shape of the ordinary doors outside—which, delightfully, looked just like his! Eventually, Thalen decided this thrilling activity had become terribly boring, so he phased back through the wall and attempted a headstand.
Unfortunately, his balance was subpar, and he toppled over—landing squarely in a nearby kitchen.
How lucky! He'd just realized he was hungry.
He turned to the frightened kitchen staff and tried to ask for food.
"When the ceiling plays in G minor, will fish learn to play video games?"
In that instant, music blared from the ceiling. The fish in the nearby tank twitched once—then began to swell, twitching as tiny consoles blossomed inside their translucent bodies, screens flickering and joysticks protruding from their scales.
The kitchen staff screamed. Every last one of them bolted from the room, howling about a hatted monster.
Thalen stood alone.
He was sad.
He had tried so hard to be normal!
Well, not hard. Not tried, really. But still. The staff were all gone now, and the fish had stopped expanding. One of them floated gently past his ear, internally speed running "Thalen Skierth Simulator"
He sighed.
"I guess I'll have to microwave the concept of rabbits again," he murmured, opening a cabinet and climbing into it sideways.
Somewhere several floors away, one hundred rabbits happily pranced about.
When Thalen re-emerged from the cabinet (which now led to an alleyway to another floor), he found himself staring at one of the creatures. Tall. Jittery. Wings too big for its frame. Proboscis like a prison shiv.
It turned its horrible bug-eyes toward him.
Thalen smiled brightly. "Do you have a moment to discuss our lord and savior, the upside-down funnel cake?"
The creature twitched and paused briefly.
Thalen leaned in.
"Because the waffles are already under the bed, and I think the piano is leaking fear again."
The creature screamed. Not in sound, but in movement. Its entire body did a 360-degree shiver and it launched backwards through a wall, leaving a hamster shaped hole that promptly healed itself out of shame.
Thalen blinked. "That's what I thought."
He sat down on an invisible bench and began peeling a carrot that wasn't there.
Around him, the hallway changed color three times.
...
Sereth had returned from his training with Masaru and had turned the corner to find Thalen who seemed to be sitting on nothing.
"Who are you?"
Thalen turned and beamed at Sereth.
"An unbelievably excited giraffe!"
Sereth blinked. "Right. Of course you are."
The man—if that's what he was—tilted slightly to the left, as if obeying gravity out of pity rather than obligation. His brown cowboy hat cast a crooked shadow across a face that looked like it had read too many surrealist poems and taken them personally.
"Talk about fashion sense..." Sereth muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Are you one of the other contestants?"
Thalen clapped his hands together. "I once danced with a contestant! She was a toaster! Our love was brief but warmly toasted."
Sereth took an involuntary step back.
And then it clicked.
This was him. The one Masaru had mentioned. The appliance guy. The walking fever dream.
He wondered why he didn't figure it out immediately from the pink vest and the fluffy pants alone, but a unnecessary chill ran through his body upon realizing.
"You're… Thalen," Sereth said slowly. "Aren't you."
Thalen's eyes lit up like he'd just heard his name whispered by the moon.
"Meow." he said proudly. "Sometimes I'm also a Wednesday."
Sereth groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Masaru wasn't kidding. This isn't a fighter. This is an existential hazard."
Thalen leaned forward conspiratorially. "Don't trust the floor."
Sereth stared at him, the silence heavy with disbelief. "I wasn't planning on it."
Then the floor shifted under Thalen's feet—no visible mechanism, no sound. Just a ripple of logic-defying wrongness. Thalen didn't move. But the laws around him did.
Sereth muttered, "I take it back. He's not trauma. He's pre-trauma. The early access version."
And then he left.
Fast.
Thalen remained where he was, smiling softly at nothing.
"Nice boy," he said to the ceiling. "I love dictionaries."