Magic

As you walk down the long, dark hallway lined on two sides with deep red velvet curtains, your shoes make dainty clicking sounds on the shiny ebony floor. The ceiling is high and, despite the curtains, the sound echoes. But how is this possible when you're wearing sneakers?

You hear your pulse beating. At the end of the hallway you reach a door. You open it and enter a dimly lit room lined from ceiling to floor with shelves that are stocked full of Magic 8 Balls, the children's toy that tells your future when you ask it a question and look in the little window where an icosahedron die etched with answers floats into view from within a dark fluid contained inside the ball. The balls seem to glow slightly. Maybe it's your imagination. You walk around and pick them up one by one, ask your question quietly, shake them, and await your answer. Is it because they are truly magic, or is it pure chance, that every single one of them gives you the same message:

Outlook not so good.

Outraged, you begin throwing the Magic 8 Balls one by one against the east wall. At least, you think it's the east wall. The balls hit with a muffled sound as if the wall is made of pillows. But eventually the cushioning wears away and a hard surface receives your fury. You hear the satisfying clack and thwack of the plastic balls crashing into the sad, bare wall. You keep hurling more hapless spheres. The Magic 8 Balls seem to grow heavier as you pick them up. You aren't frantic. You go about this in manner that is quick and methodical.

Are the Magic 8 Balls screaming and crying as they bounce off the walls?

You do not stop. You are relentless.

Finally, the Magic 8 Balls begin to fatigue and split from repeatedly pelting the wall. The dark ichor that fills them oozes out with an eerie phosphorescence. You continue your destruction for what must be hours. You notice that the ooze has spread all across the floor. It has risen to the level of your ankles and has filled your shoes with its cold wisdom. You continue. Why are you doing this?

It feels like the right thing to do. It feels satisfying. If this is so wrong, why doesn't anyone stop you? Your sweat begins to mix with the oozing ichor (for ichor it is--these are living oracles after all). A strange animal scent fills the room. This scent is you mixed with the blood of the eternals. Why are you laughing, and why can't you stop?

You realize that most of the remaining balls are now under the dark, glowing slop of ancient knowledge. You have to dive into the soup to grab more of them. Your unseeing hands grip them without hesitation before you heave them away. You've never felt so sure of yourself. You're in the flow state.

Soon, you stop because you cannot jump high enough over the liquid to achieve a proper launch angle. You move around as if you are in the ocean. And you are--you are in an ocean of subtly glowing goo. This goo continues to rise although you've ceased the massacre. You hear a crack and notice that a fissure has formed in the wall. The force of the liquid is too much for this room. It will burst. And with it, into the world outside as the sun rises before you, you will burst forth bathed in ichor, victorious.

But what did you learn? You think about this while the room groans around you. It sounds like the creakng of an old ship. Your mind drifts as you float in the goo. As your forehead touches the ceiling and you wonder if you'll be able to breathe for much longer, the pressure of the ooze forces the wall to burst. You are pulled towards the opening, which grows larger and may become large enough so you won't be seriously injured as you are sucked through the space. You take a deep breath and only swallow a small amount of ichor as you are pulled under. It tastes how you expect ichor to taste: metallic like blood but heavenly. The liquid is so dark you can't see anything while in its embrace.

You nearly fall asleep. Or maybe you nearly suffocate. Consciousness is something people think they understand until they experience the world in ways they've never known. Look around you. Listen. Get some rest.