Narrator S: Okay, so, imagine this. 

[Rhythmic guitar and whistling winds.]

Narrator M: A vast, jet-black ocean of cosmic darkness spans before you. Ink-dark waves of liquid fog stretch in every direction, horizon to horizon, rolling with a languid sheen, kinda like that drifting film that forms between oil and water where they meet. 

Narrator X: A bright, iridescent sky shines above, glimmering with harsh prismatic light. There is no sun, just brilliant sky. And jagged white crystals, large and small, float among monolithic clouds like weightless shards of broken glass. 

S: A limitless expanse above. 

X: The Un. 

S: An endless ocean below.

X: The Fold. 

M: Are the Un and the Fold actually endless? 

S: No one knows. Not yet. 

X: There, floating, half submerged in the liquid Fold, a round, red desert world. A spherical planetoid rolling slowly, glacially, in the sea. 

S: We realize this might be hard to imagine. Picture a pumpkin or something, adrift in a tranquil ocean, bobbing gently, half submerged, half exposed, turning slowly. But THIS pumpkin is an entire desert world, and THIS ocean is made of impossible liquid darkness.

M: See? You’re doing great. Welcome to the cosmos. 

X: We fly, fast, soaring over the Fold, traveling miles every moment. Down, down we go, diving into that ocean of inky fog. 

[Liquid submerging noises.]

S: It’s not actually liquid at all. It almost feels like nothing. 

M: We dip just below the surface, toward the submerged underside of the planetoid, there, shrouded in darkness. Let’s take a closer look. Let the gravity pull you in. 

S: On the surface of the planetoid, dimly visible in the darkness, a spectacular desert landscape. 

X: We fly past red stone arches looming suddenly out of the shadow. Crimson canyons, the glimmer of civilization, roads, train tracks, farms, little towns. 

S: Vibrant plant life, outlandish succulents and neon lichens spilling everywhere, flickering and pulsing with multicolored bioluminescence.

M: A surreal alien desert of vermilion crags and cliffs and critters and cacti. 

S: And there, a stunning redstone mountain, on and around which there sprawls… 

M: A city.

[The music fades as the scene changes to a quiet interior.]

X: We’re inside a hat shop, opened for business about six minutes ago. It’s dark. It’s early. It’s getting close to unrise. It’s quiet and calm in here. It smells like juniper, like felt. The air is still and warm, wafting with a suspended foggy darkness that hangs around us, a shadowy haze. 

S: The door opens. The first customer of the day steps inside.

[A pensive guitar melody.]

X: A cloaked figure, quiet and slight, dressed head to toe in a long black cape, carrying a modest, dingy suitcase in one hand. They look peaceful, unbothered, eyes half-lidded. They seem serene, but aware. They glide slowly between hat displays, placidly examining headwear. 

M: (Unidentified speaker) “Hello, can I help you find anything?”

S: This is Sohelia, the hat maker, asking this from behind a table where she’s sewing a feathered fascinator by the gently pulsing light of a fold-safe lamp. 

M: (Sohelia) “I’ve got a twenty-five percent off sale on flat caps right now.”

X: (Visitor) “I need to buy a hat,”

S: the visitor whispers. 

M: (Sohelia) “What was that?” 

X: (Visitor) “I need to buy a hat,”

S: they say again, maybe one percent louder.

M: (Sohelia) “Uh, did you say, did you say you need to buy a hat? I can’t hear you real well.”

X: (Visitor) “Yes, I did. I need to buy a hat.” 

M: (Sohelia) “Oh, good! Yep! Well, you’re in the right place. Ah, anything in particular you’re thinking about?” 

X: The figure turns their slow, lidded gaze to Sohelia. (Visitor) “…No.” This traveler has never seen an unrise before. Today will be their very first, and they’re told it’s going to be bright and it’s going to be… Well, it’s something you need a big hat for. So they say, simply, (Visitor) “It needs to be… big.” 

M: (Sohelia) “Oh, of course. Well, come, step right over here, my dear. We’ve got several choices on offer.”

X: The dark figure glides quietly across the room, eyes turning between top hats, bowler hats, flat caps, to some large broad-brimmed articles that Sohelia here is indicating.

S: (Sohelia) “How about this one, darling?” she says, picking out the biggest, shadiest hat she has in her inventory. 

X: The broadest-brimmed. 

M: Sohelia’s practiced hands lift it off of the mannequin and pop it instantly onto the newcomer’s head. 

X: They put down their suitcase and step in front of a mirror. 

S: They stare at their reflection emotionlessly, as though looking at a stranger.

M: (Sohelia) “How does that feel?”

X: (Visitor) “Fine.” They don’t seem – well, who knows? They don’t really seem to feel much of any way about that hat. It seems to work. They look fine, they look cool. 

S: (Sohelia) “Well, if that’ll do the trick, I’ll get that rung up for you.”

M: (Sohelia) “Will you need a box?” 

X: (Visitor) “No.”

M: (Sohelia) “Say again, sorry?”

X: The figure shakes their head almost imperceptibly, whispering some more. (Visitor) “No box.”

S: (Sohelia) “Alrighty then!” Sohelia says, struggling to keep the rapport fresh and lively and casual.

M: (Sohelia) “Are you here for the big day?” 

X: (Visitor) “…Yes.” Great. Wow. Hmm. Well, uh, there’s no reason to sustain this, uh, business transaction any longer than necessary. Sohelia is noodling with her cash register here. 

S: Sohelia would perhaps like the visitor to leave. 

X: The visitor would perhaps like to leave as well. They have some business to attend to. There’s a meeting they have to get to. 

S: It would be best overall for the scene if the visitor were to leave now. 

X: Interchange takes place, an exchange of a small amount of money for a… 

S: Large amount of hat! 

M: Business, ain’t it great? And with that transaction concluded, Sohelia whips a receipt into the, uh, stranger’s hand, or in the direction of the stranger’s hand. (Sohelia) “Would you care for a paper receipt?”

X: The stranger is clearly about to say “no” as they have been saying to most things this morning so far already, but they pause instead and, to the surprise of Sohelia, and to the surprise of all of us here listening, says instead, in fact, (Visitor) “All right.”

S: Wow… 

X: Wow, innovative! 

S: What will they do next? What shocking decision will they make? 

X: And the caped, hatted figure takes possession of the bill of sale from Sohelia, and with a sort of limp gesture, says for the first time, (Visitor) “Thank you very much.” And with that, they turn in a swooping fashion and begin to quietly, mysteriously, glide toward the door. 

S: (Sohelia) “Enjoy the celebration,” Sohelia bids them farewell.

M: (Sohelia) “And hold on to that receipt! That date will go down in history, mark my words.” 

X: And with a detached nod to Sohelia, the figure’s black-gloved hand grasps the doorknob, and they exit the shop. 

[The quiet interior soundscape changes to the hustle and bustle of a city street.]

S: Out into the city they go, a bustling scene of progress and industry and human endeavor surrounding them in this predawn hour as they exit the hat shop onto the main street, a busy avenue winding up the spine of the city’s hill. 

M: A tight formation of foldmersibles soar by overhead, hurrying to descend out of the fog-shrouded night and moor in the nearby shipyard before unrise. 

X: The caped traveler is on the move up Main Street, suitcase in one hand, hat on head. It IS quite a hat. Stunning. Stylish. 

S: And they are of rather short stature, which is making them look even smaller in comparison to the large hat. 

X: They take in every detail of the city scene with that detached, lidded, slightly weird gaze, alleys and boulevards sprawling around them as they walk, thronging crowds surging up and down the main drag. It’s a busy morning here in the city today!

S: In the dark, gently pulsating lampposts cast their fluctuating glow onto all the chaotic procession of traffic: various bocular vehicles, beasts of burden, zippy little personal scooters.

M: Street vendors are setting up their stands and hawking their wares: chevron-shaped trinkets on chains, commemorative spoons, and sizzling skewers of meat and cactus.

S: This place, not so very long ago just a little rough-and-tumble frontier town, is now a bustling metropolis to rival any of the most famous cities in the cosmos. 

M: Stationary Hill. The first, biggest, and depending on who you ask, best city on Midst. 

X: Strange cacti sprout from crevices between dusty paving stones. Odd grasshopper things sproing and whir as the caped figure moves quietly by. People everywhere on the go. Voices murmuring excitedly. Anticipation high for… 

S: Launch Day. 

X: Launch Day. 

S: So says the banner going up now, being pulled taut over the street by a few fellers struggling with ropes and pulleys.

M: Launch Day. Two big words in dramatic letters set against a chevron-shaped sigil. 

S: There’s that sigil again. 

X: Chevrons everywhere today. What does it all mean? 

S: In addition to countless folks who live right here on Midst, there are also people from all over the cosmos. Visitors from cities high in the Un, baronies deep in the Fold – quite a few of the latter exhibiting unique… properties. A carpenter covered in opalescent scars, 

X: A sailor bouncing along five feet in the air with every step, 

M: A woman whose left leg is an entire ‘nother man. 

S: They both wave at the caped traveler in passing. 

X: (Man-Leg) “Howdy.”

S: (Woman) “Howdy!”

X: (Man-Leg) “Happy Launch Day.”

M: The caped traveler nods to the woman, and her leg, in passing. 

X: The city itself is shot through with elements of uncanny surrealism as well, it’s not just the people. Not all buildings here look quite – how shall we say this – normal, exactly? 

M: What IS normal here? 

S: Here, a hotel with strangely fractal-like windows. 

M: There, shining in the lamplight, an entire street made of porcelain.

X: Here, a narrow creek, water suspended in mid-air, burbling weightlessly above wooden trellises, winding down the main street, winding down the spine of the desert hill.

S: All kinds of weird stuff like this, just existing. All maybe a little unusual for you, but not unusual to anyone here on Midst – unless they’re from the Un and they’ve never seen Fold-related stuff before. 

X: All these features, all these unusual spectacles – that’s just how things have been here for quite a while. These things happen in the Fold sometimes. 

M: Here, just off of the main drag, stand several colonnades encircling a lush bioluminescent park. Standing starkly there against the fluorescence of a copse of vibrant mushrooms, a cluster of three black-cloaked Mothers with tall, horned, mantis-like headdresses. Their hands are gloved, their faces veiled. They’re chatting quietly with each other.

X: The caped traveler approaches, and one of those dark entities standing there in the park, his horns wide and flat, kind of like a hammerhead shark, looks up from his conversation at the approaching traveler. 

M: (Unidentified Mother) “I SEE YOU HAVE OBTAINED A GIANT HAT. IT GIVES YOU A CERTAIN DISTINCTION.”

S: He turns to his shrouded compatriots and continues, 

X: (Unidentified Mother) “THE GRANDDAUGHTER HERE HAS JUST ARRIVED FROM OUR DEEP COENOBIUM, AND I MUST TAKE THEM NOW TO CHECK IN AT THE SHIP. I MAY NOT SEE EITHER OF YOU BEFORE WE LAUNCH, SO I WISH TO THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE EXPEDITION. MOTHER MISAPPREHENSION, MOTHER CALAMITY, I WILL SEE YOU WHEN WE RETURN. PLEASE GIVE MY BEST TO THE GRANDMOTHER.”

M: Many people in the street turn abruptly to watch this exchange, because holy cow, that person is loud. 

S: He’s just got one of those voices that carries. (Mother Misapprehension) “Farewell, Mother Artifice,” murmurs one of the other Mothers. 

X: It’s kinda hard to tell which one. 

S: Then, to the suitcase-carrying new arrival, (Mother Misapprehension) “May you reach your Realization with clarity, Granddaughter, that we may meet again as Mothers all.”

X: (Mother Artifice) “YES, WELL-SAID, MOTHER MISAPPREHENSION,” booms Mother Artifice, hammerheaded mantle nodding. “TOODLE-OO.” 

S: And with that, he turns away, sweeping up his smaller cloaked companion in stride with him, and they make their way together toward a streetcar stop nearby.

M: (Mother Artifice) “HOW WERE YOUR TRAVELS? DID YOU HAVE A GOOD JOURNEY?”

S: (Mother Artifice) “YOU SEEM TO BE DOING WELL FOR SOMEONE WHO HAS NEVER TRAVELED VERY MUCH BEFORE.” 

M: (Mother Artifice) “AND TRAVELING LIGHT, I WOULD ADD.” 

S: (Mother Artifice) “AND TRAVELING ALONE!” 

X: The Granddaughter blinks slowly under the broad brim of their hat. 

S: The streetcar is approaching, sort of like a double-decker bus.

M: But with legs.

S: LOTS of them.

M: You know how these things are.

X: It clatters slowly up the street, approaching, as Mother Artifice and the Granddaughter stand waiting. (Granddaughter) “My journey from the Deep Coenobium was quite long and slow, but–” 

S: (Mother Artifice) “IT’S A BIT DIFFICULT TO MAKE OUT WHAT YOU’RE SAYING IN THIS BOISTEROUS ATMOSPHERE. LET US TAKE OUR SEATS ON THE TOP OF THE STREETCAR WHERE IT MAY BE EASIER TO CONVERSE, AND TO GAIN A PLEASANT VIEW OF THE SURROUNDINGS.”

X: What a great idea! The streetcar clatters to a stop here at the intersection of the main street and this porcelain-like side road.

[Awooga.]

S: The mood aboard the streetcar is strangely party-like for the early hour. 

X: It’s both a form of public transit and also, on this particular morning, kind of like a tour bus. 

S: (Tour Guide) “To your left you’ll see the Street of Porcelain, one of the vestiges of the famous Moonfall Tearror that affected the city thirty traversals ago.”

M: Ooh, ah! 

S: The streetcar, clearly packed full of tourists, mostly not locals, gasp appropriately.

X: Mother Artifice and the Granddaughter together take a seat on the upper deck of the double-decker streetcar. 

S: Despite the lack of room, the other passengers readily make space for them without being asked. 

X: The Granddaughter, holding their suitcase gingerly in their hands, tilting their head to give some freedom of movement to their extremely wide brim, which they keep banging on things – they are unaccustomed to such headgear, this is new. 

S: It’s sort of like a built-in personal space bubble, which is an unexpected perk. 

X: The streetcar lurches into motion, winding its way up Stationary Hill’s main drag. 

S: Buildings press in close around the streetcar as it makes its way along, winding beneath an elevated train track. 

M: The street level is barely the beginning of the Stationary Hill experience. The city continues up, above, building on itself bit by bit. 

X: A medley of shops and restaurants and homes all stacked on top of each other, jockeying for room, crooked roofs intersecting chimneys and balconies and windows and fire escapes, stairs squeezed in wherever they’ll fit, creating a chaotic makeshift skyline.

S: Red stone and shingles and cactus fiber paneling, vine-covered bricks, a teetering verticality of patchwork facades, a harmonious mismatch of architectural styles from all over the cosmos, combining to create something uniquely Stationarian. 

M: A city, built atop an older town, built atop an even older village.

X: A desert frontier settlement, become a desert frontier metropolis. 

M: (Tour Guide) “To your right you can see the Fractal District – houses repeating the same floor plan over and over again, turned just by notches!”

S: Mother Artifice, ignoring the tour guide, turns back to the Granddaughter. 

M: (Mother Artifice) “IT IS FORTUITOUS THAT YOU BECAME GRANDDAUGHTER WHEN YOU DID, AND THAT, OUT OF ALL THE MOTHERS IN OUR ORDER, YOU WOULD BE ASSIGNED TO ME TO SUPERVISE THE COMPLETION OF YOUR TUTELAGE DURING THIS VERY SINGULAR HAPPENING.”

X: Artifice gestures broadly to the city, to all the pre-launch activity, to the excited hustle and bustle around them. (Mother Artifice) “THIS IS ALL PRETTY UNUSUAL. NO GRANDDAUGHTER IN THE HISTORY OF OUR ORDER HAS HAD THE OPPORTUNITY TO CONCLUDE THEIR TRAINING, MEET THEIR REALIZATION, AND BECOME A MOTHER WHILE CREWING AN EXPEDITION TO THE LIMITS OF THE COSMOS. I CERTAINLY DID NOT. WHEN I WAS GRANDDAUGHTER LONG AGO MYSELF, I WAS SITTING IN MY ROOM AT THE COENOBIUM, WHERE I HAD CONSUMED SUPPER TWENTY MINUTES PREVIOUSLY, AND THEN WHILE TAKING MY MID-AFTERNOON EASE IN MY TRANQUIL CHAMBERS, REALIZATION TRANSPIRED ABRUPTLY.” 

S: The Mother turns his black-veiled face to peer closely at the Granddaughter beside him on the trolley. The horned countenance looms in the foggy dimness of the morning. 

M: (Mother Artifice) “MANY UNKNOWNS AWAIT YOU, AS THEY AWAIT US ALL ON THIS JOURNEY. BUT YOUR EXPEDITION REALLY LIES WITHIN. ARE YOU READY?” 

X: (Granddaughter) “Yes,” the Granddaughter whispers without hesitation. “I am.” 

S: (Mother Artifice) “THEN THE FINAL TEST AWAITS YOU. YOU MUST EMPLOY ALL YOU HAVE LEARNED IN YOUR YEARS AS A DAUGHTER BEFORE. NOW, AS GRANDDAUGHTER, IT IS YOUR SINGULAR PURPOSE TO REMAIN RECEPTIVE TO REALIZATION. WHEN REALIZATION OCCURS, YOUR NARROW EXPERIENCE WILL COLLAPSE FUNDAMENTALLY INTO AN INEFFABLE REALNESS OF BEING. REALIZATION IS COMING, AND WHEN IT REVEALS ITSELF TO YOU, YOU MUST RECOGNIZE IT AND YOU MUST EMBRACE IT. IT WILL NOT BE SUBTLE OR UNCLEAR.”

X: The Granddaughter listens calmly, eyes lidded, tranquilly receptive as the trolley crawls up the city street. (Granddaughter) “I am ready. I am going to be watchful always.” Mother Artifice nods approvingly,

M: (Mother Artifice) “YOU MUST BE. DO NOT TURN AWAY WHEN REALIZATION APPEARS BEFORE YOU, AS IT SOON IN TIME SHALL DO. DO NOT FEAR GOING BEYOND. GO THERE, AND DO NOT TURN BACK WHEN THE OPPORTUNITY PRESENTS ITSELF. I WOULD HATE TO SEE YOU FALTER AND LEARN THE GRAVE CONSEQUENCES FOR FAILURE. BUT I’M SURE YOU’LL DO JUST GREAT. YOU’RE GOING TO MAKE AN EXCELLENT MOTHER.”

S: The Granddaughter’s ears are ringing with the sound of Mother Artifice’s voice, 

X: And with the dinging sound of the trolley as it comes to a stop here at an intersection beside Patricia’s Bread and Breakfast. 

S: The tour guide booms, (Tour Guide) “You can’t miss this, folks. This is one of the most beloved dining establishments in Stationary Hill! You’ve gotta try the bread.”

X: Mother Artifice has already got the idea, standing from his seat. (Mother Artifice) “LET’S GET OFF AT PATRICIA’S HERE. I NEARLY FORGOT THAT DAUGHTERS, AND EVEN GRANDDAUGHTERS, STILL EAT FOOD, SO LET’S GET YOU A FLAVORFUL AND NOURISHING BREAKFAST WITH HASTE. WHEN YOU’RE ON TRACK TO MEET YOUR REALIZATION, YOU NEVER KNOW WHICH MEAL WILL BE YOUR LAST, SO BE SURE TO SAVOR EVERY PIECE OF CUISINE YOU OCCASION TO CONSUME.”

S: And with that, they disembark. 

X: Back down into the red dust of the street, suitcase in hand, the Granddaughter once more on foot, gazing about them from under the brim of their prominent hat, still unflappably calm, as ever, unusually chill.

M: You know what place is not chill, though? Patricia’s Bread and Breakfast. There’s a line out the door. There are people queuing up inside. You can see smiling faces beaming over bakery cases within. 

S: You know those really popular breakfast places? The wait is always insane. 

X: Even this early in the morning, predawn, people are ready for their bread, ready for their breakfast – it is, of course, Launch Day. 

S: Well, they want to have their bread in hand by the time the great unveiling takes place. Artifice and the Granddaughter get in line. 

X: (Mother Artifice) “THIS IS EXCELLENT. THE LINE IS MOVING QUITE QUICKLY. THEREFORE, WE SHOULD BE ABLE TO ACQUIRE YOUR BREAKFAST WITH SPEED.”

S: The person in front of them in line, recognizing Mother Artifice’s unmissable voice, turns around.

[A contemplative bell melody.]

M: A handsome, kempt, professorial man turns to face Mother Artifice and the Granddaughter. A dark brown lock of hair has untidily flopped over his forehead, and he distractedly rakes it back into flawless position. A smile emerges from the close crop of his beard, as, with a practiced bow of the head, he says, (Unidentified man) “Good morning, or close to it.”

S: Mother Artifice waves a gloved hand in jaunty salute. 

X: (Mother Artifice) “AH, YES, GOOD MORNING. HOW SERENDIPITOUS AN ENCOUNTER. I’VE JUST COLLECTED THE GRANDDAUGHTER HERE, AND WAS SHORTLY TO COME LOCATE YOU TO CHECK THEM IN.” 

M: The professorial fellow shifts a stack of documents into the waiting hands of a compatriot, standing off to one side. (Unidentified man) “And I’m very pleased to meet you, Granddaughter. And you can just call me Merlin. I’m here representing Bernhard and Gottle.”

X: (Granddaughter) “How do you do?” murmurs the Granddaughter, peering up at Merlin from underneath the broad brim of their hat. 

S: (Mother Artifice) “OUR WORK ON THE EXPEDITION WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN POSSIBLE WITHOUT MR. VOT’S UNPARALLELED COSMOLOGICAL EXPERTISE. HE HAS BEEN SUPREMELY INVALUABLE TO THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE SHIP, AND WE ARE VERY FORTUNATE TO HAVE HIM ON THE CREW.”

M: (Merlin) “My goodness, what a pleasure. I had no idea we’d be meeting here like this. Just a moment, please.” Merlin slides out of a tan trench coat, which he, with a practiced hand, flips and lays over the waiting arms of a colleague. A…man…stands next to Merlin.

[A wooden block melody.]

S: You may be wondering why we paused like that. 

M: He’s not, like, a normal man. 

S: He’s sort of different from the other boys. 

M: He’s built different. 

X: Merlin beckons invitingly to the Granddaughter. 

M: (Merlin) “This is a perfect opportunity. I would also like to introduce you to the Bocular Man.” (Bocular Man) “Hmm?”

S: The, uh, person, hearing his name, turns to look at Merlin.

M: (Bocular Man) “Hello.” The man is, well, he’s not a normal man.

S: He’s a bocular one. 

M: There are many bocular things in this cosmos, but as far as men are concerned, he’s the only one. He’s a little more square-looking than the other people around him, and his knees bend backwards instead of forwards. 

S: A rigid faceplate displays an expression of friendly curiosity, carefully carved to look that way.

M: Where skin would be on a normal man, well-sanded wood and well-polished brass gleam instead, moving smoothly beneath some simple white canvas clothes, a tunic and pants, crisp and luminous in the dark of the Fold. 

X: The Granddaughter eyes him–  

M: (Bocular Man) “Hello.”

X: with just the same lidded, chill gaze. No emotion, no thought. Is there even anyone home? Who can say? 

S: Bocular technology isn’t unusual, of course, but it is somewhat odd for it to come in this humanoid-shaped package. 

X: (Mother Artifice) “NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES I ENCOUNTER HIM, I AM EACH AND EVERY TIME ASTOUNDED BY THE INGENUITY OF HIS CRAFTSMANSHIP. THE BOCULAR MAN IS A TRIUMPH OF CREATION.”

M: (Bocular Man) “Hello. I am the Bocular Man. I can do things a person can.” 

X: What is clearly a recording of Merlin’s voice emanates from the center of the Bocular Man’s chassis, from his chest area, generally. 

S: Merlin smiles proudly. 

M: (Merlin) “This has been my little pet project for the last several months, but I’m so excited that you get to not only meet each other here and now, but also we can all get a bit of coffee, and get the morning started off right!”

S: This group is attracting more than a few stares from the other people in line. 

X: (Granddaughter) “The Bocular Man drinks coffee?”

M: (Merlin) “Oh, no. But I do,” Merlin says with a twinkle in his almost teal eye. “Do you?”

X: The Granddaughter doesn’t seem to know if they drink coffee or not. They shrug. (Granddaughter) “I suppose I could.” 

S: (Mother Artifice) “WITH THE DIET THAT YOU HAVE BEEN ACCUSTOMED TO, THE UNEXPECTED ADDITION OF CAFFEINE MIGHT BE STARTLING FOR YOU.”

X: Well, there’s only one way to find out. They are next in line. (Breadmonger) “Top of the mornin’ to ya, Merlin! Are you havin’ your regular today, or do you need somethin’ a little stronger for launch?” 

M: (Merlin) “Absolutely! Let’s make it a double shot today.” 

S: (Breadmonger) “Don’t forget, everything comes with a free side of bread.”

M: (Merlin) “Yes, thank you, thank you. We’ll take, uh, another basket of bread for the table, why not? Oh, actually, we’ll take it to go! We’ve got places to be.”

X: (Breadmonger) “Nothin’ for you, though, I assume?” the monger says to Mother Artifice. 

S: (Mother Artifice) “YOU SELL NOTHING THAT IS OF USE TO ME. HOWEVER, MY ASSOCIATE HERE REQUIRES SUSTENANCE.” 

X: (Breadmonger) “Bread, perhaps? 

S: offers the shopkeeper.

M: (Mother Artifice) “WHATEVER IS MOST NUTRITIONALLY DENSE.” 

S: (Breadmonger) “Well, we’ll just get you the freshest bread out of the oven, how’s that? 

M: (Mother Artifice) “THAT SOUNDS GREAT.”

X: And so breakfasted, within moments, in a jiffy, Merlin, the Granddaughter – and not Mother Artifice and nor the Bocular Man, for he also does not drink coffee or eat bread – are breakfasted. It is given unto them, and they purchase it, and make their move.

M: Into the thronging streets, which are now, if possible, somehow even busier, the mounting excitement made palpable by the ribbons, by the banners, the tapestries being flung from balconies, from windows around. 

S: The traffic seems to be getting more concentrated as they get closer to the top of the hill. 

M: Merlin sets the box of Patricia’s bread into the waiting and attentive arms of the Bocular Man before turning to the Granddaughter. (Merlin) “So, is this your first time on Midst?”

X: (Granddaughter) “It is.” 

M: (Merlin) “Why, that’s excellent! It’s a fascinating place, incredible city – here, Stationary Hill, obviously – but not only the city, the entire islet. Thirty years ago something tremendous went down and really put Midst on the map. The Moonfall event, of course, and the search, the recovery. All of the events leading to today.”

S: A melodious horn in the street behind them announces the arrival of a carriage. 

X: Pedestrians parting, moving aside, making way. 

S: And rolling up alongside them is a magnificent carriage made of ebony coral, adorned with a United Baronies crest, piled high with matching luggage strapped down, drawn by four bioluminescent beasts that seem to be a cross between reindeer and those really ornamental sea slugs.

X: It attracts a lot of attention. A lot of people stare. A lot of people boggle. 

S: There’s a squeal from inside the curtained window of the carriage. (Newcomer) “Oh, stop here! Stop here, please!”

X: The carriage comes to stop, the sea slug reindeer coming up short, eyestalks turning. 

M: Antlers turning. 

[A whimsical synth melody.]

S: The door bursts open, and, in a froth of lace and silk and petticoats, a pretty young woman spills out, wearing a dress with a short but voluminous skirt that kind of makes her look something like a jellyfish. Her skin is of a mint green color, her hair a cotton candy pink. Well, it’s a little bit hard to tell exactly what color her hair is, because in the darkness of the Fold it’s pulsing with variable patterns of multicolored light, glowing down the strands of hair like fiber-optic cable. It also floats and wafts in the gentle breeze of the Fold, almost as if she were underwater. Freckles across her face and arms also flicker gently with that same pretty light. She takes them all in with eyes of that same luminous pink color as her hair. (Newcomer) “Oh my gosh. Are you Professor Vot? And Mother Artifice? Hello, what’s your name?” she says, bustling over to the Granddaughter. With the hair, the dress, the bioluminescence, the overall effect is a bit like the fairytale princess of a magical underwater kingdom – which isn’t that far off the mark from the actual truth. 

X: The Granddaughter is unflappably chill as usual, but is this just a twinge, just a little flicker of surprise? It’s not every day you meet a magical underwater princess. 

S: The young woman turns behind and waves the carriage on. (Newcomer) “Oh, just take it up to the top of the hill, please, I’ll meet you up there. I’m going to walk the rest of the way. Omelet, you stay in the carriage! Be good!” There’s a brief glimpse of some luxurious yellow fur as the newcomer carefully closes the door on some little critter she has in there – 

M: A… pet? 

S: – before turning back to the others with a bright, elated smile. (Newcomer) “Hi, hi! I’m – sorry, I’m so excited, if you can’t tell – I’m Cleophee Guilemoth. I’m the envoy from the barony of Ebonreef, um, but it sounds so formal when you say it like that. I can’t believe the day is finally here!” 

X: (Mother Artifice) “WHAT A PLEASURE TO MAKE YOUR ACQUAINTANCE, CLEOPHEE GUILEMOTH.”

S: (Cleo) “Please, just call me Cleo.”

M: (Merlin) “Cleo, a pleasure,” Merlin says. 

S: (Cleo) “The pleasure is all mine! You would not believe how long it takes to get here from Ebonreef. I had to set out months in advance, and I still barely made it in time! Isn’t it funny how excited I am to get off one ship just to get straight on to another? But you can’t really compare the Ship to a regular old foldmersible, now can you? I’ve been having dreams about the Ship for months. Can we walk together? Would that be okay?”

M: (Merlin) “Absolutely!”

X: They stroll towards the top of the town, the dimness here in the early predawn darkness, the liquid inky fog, clinging to the top of the town as they ascend.

S: They pass by a cool, classy, mysterious edifice painted glossy black, its twisting surreal architecture making it look like something out of a dream. 

M: Fluctuating fold-safe lanterns in rich jewel tones decorate the facade. 

X: Stained glass swirls in large ornate windows, like melted wax that solidified mid-drip. 

S: Composed of beautiful gilt letters that reflect all the hues of these multicolored lamps, a sign proclaims: Saskia’s. An illuminated apostrophe flickers on and off.

M: (Merlin) “That’s a great spot,” Merlin says emphatically. “Much beloved by the locals. Best cocktails I’ve ever tasted, plus live music. It’s a pity we don’t have time to stop in right now.”

S: Cleo sighs yearningly, eyeing it as they walk by. It seems like the kind of place that would normally be closed at this hour. It’s clearly a nighttime place, a place for romantic dates and moody late-night hangouts and cool shows. 

M: But now, in all the excitement of Launch Day, it’s open like everything else. The windows glow invitingly, and strains of sultry jazz can be heard from within.

S: Whatever Launch Day is, it seems to have brought together people from all walks of life, from all over the cosmos, collaborating together on this great, momentous, historical effort. 

X: People here in the streets whispering, pointing, pointing to Merlin, pointing to Mother Artifice, pointing to Cleophee. None of them specifically pointing to the Granddaughter, though. Murmured whispers. (People) “Is it them? Are they part of the crew?”

S: Cleophee is babbling excitedly. (Cleo) “So, I’ve never actually been to the Un before? I guess I’m technically still not in the Un, but, you know, it’s getting close.”

X: (Mother Artifice) “NEITHER HAS THE GRANDDAUGHTER, FOR THAT MATTER.”

S: (Cleo) “Oh, really? Oh my gosh, that makes me feel so much better – to have like an Un-buddy? We can be – we can be Un-buddies.” Cleophee links her arm through the Granddaughter’s caped elbow, chummily. 

X: The Granddaughter’s eyes momentarily flickering, going a tiny bit wider than usual, then back to being very normal and very chill.

S: (Cleo) “I brought a pair of unglasses, but I can let you borrow them if you want. I kind of want to see it for the first time without any… you know. I just want to see it the way it really is. Even if it’s too bright for me.”

M: (Merlin) “Well, you haven’t got long to wait!”

S: (Cleo) “Oh my gosh!”

M: (Merlin) “Here it comes!”

S: (Cleo) [excited squealing]

X: (Mother Artifice) “LET’S SEE IF WE CAN CATCH IT HERE FROM THE TOP OF THE HILL FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO ARE AS YET UNFAMILIAR WITH THE PHENOMENON.”

S: (Cleo) “I was so afraid I was going to be late, you know? It’s really coming up soon. I’m getting goosebumps all over my body!” And indeed, the bioluminescence covering Cleophee’s skin seems to flicker and speed up almost in time with her excitement. 

X: A large crowd is gathering here towards the top of the hill, our comrades now approaching the very pinnacle, the very summit of the desert hill upon which the city stands. Everyone here is waiting. Everyone here is restless. Everybody looking up, up into the dark, foggy night above. There’s something up there, something they cannot yet see. Something everyone is waiting for. 

S: Cleo breathes in sharply. (Cleo) “Is it just me, or is the Fold starting to feel a little bit weird? Like, thinner? Is that normal?”

X: And it is not just Cleo who feels it. The group comes to a stop, here towards the very top of the town, just in time…for day. 

S: The night-like darkness, the humid haze of the Fold here in Stationary Hill, IS beginning to thin. And then, just like that, it’s not dark anymore. 

M: With glaring abruptness, the night is gone. [Crowd cheering.] Instant unlight, a bright not-quite-white light, radiating omnipresently, glaringly, from the cosmic reaches above, as a vast curtain of unearthly liquid fog darkness glides back from the city. As it does every morning. 

X: Brilliant, bright colors assail the assembled crowd, eye-watering in their vividness, pastel and neon hues of Vermillion County standing out against the distant horizon.

S: Striations of gold, hazel, bright blue, beaming forth from metamorphic pillars and arches of desert sandstone. 

M: As the Fold withdraws, it exposes the tip of the eponymous hill, like the stem of an orange rising from a pool of ink, crested by a huge lattice tower – 

S: Kinda like a huge radio mast, if you’re looking for a real-world comparison. 

M: – from which a long cable stretches off into the retreating darkness of the Fold, anchored to another islet somewhere in its depths.

X: A very unusual tree grows beside the tower, made of clear glass, hollow and shiny, as though a row of pneumatic tubes once got the idea to merge together and become a living plant. 

S: In fact, that’s exactly what happened. 

X: Funny story about that. Maybe some other time. 

S: Its sparkling branches entwine through the latticework of the tower, festooned with berries of black and white.

M: Scenic as all this may be, this isn’t even what we’re here to look at. The vista here at the top of Stationary Hill doesn’t hold a candle to what looms above. 

[A grandly mysterious melody]

S: A swelling murmur rises from everyone. This is what Launch Day is all about. This is what everyone has come to Stationary Hill to see. 

X: Cleophee gasps in delight. The Granddaughter’s spaced-out gaze gets a little less spaced out, a little more astonished. Just a little.

M: Even Merlin grins at the arresting beauty of it. (Merlin) “It never gets old.”

S: Hovering, suspended silently above the city, moored in dry dock at the apex of the tower, hangs a towering black crystal shard,

M: its surface a mirror-like prism, refracting the bright landscape and teeming city in its darkly reflective depths. 

X: A huge obsidian arrowhead looming on high above Stationary Hill like an angular chevron-shaped iridescent crescent moon, its knife-like prow aimed toward the horizon, toward the unknown. Ready to fly. 

S: The Ship. 

X: The Granddaughter shivers. 

S: Cleophee boggles, blinking away tears, squinting through the glare of the unlight. 

X: (Mother Artifice) “TRULY A SINGULAR SPECTACLE,” yells Mother Artifice. 

M: Merlin gestures grandly to the hanging shard. (Merlin) “Ah, a perfect day to test the limits of reality, wouldn’t you agree?”

[The Unend theme]