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Decades old glass crunched underfoot as the tech hunter's boots made a careful path through the rubble. It was day outside, and overcast, so his eyes were obscured behind green goggles, granting him vision unimpeded by the gloom within the ancient factory. Shortly before East Bay, the city he was currently in the outskirts of, had been abandoned, this building had been partially demolished. What this meant to someone such as him was the the outside was a maze of debris, while the inside was unstable and a potential death trap. In other words, a fairly routine scavenger hunt lay ahead of him.

He holstered the two pistols he'd brought with him. Mere formalities really, this region was largely mutant free, and the dangerous vagrants that populated most of the ghost cities were seldom seen in the outskirts of East Bay. The worst threat to his life was the building itself. He rued the fact that his goggles were not sufficiently advanced to scan the walls for structural integrity, and that he had to rely on his senses to tell him if the building felt like coming down around him. Still, it had held for one hundred and forty years, he didn't think it was likely to give up now.

The rubble outside was two floors deep, and he'd had to clear enough to allow him access to this, the factory floor. It had taken the better part of the night and into the morning, but the bio-stim pellets were doing their job well and he did not yet feel tired. That he felt hungry was another problem, and he was irritated he'd been forced to leave most of his food back at his camp. A quick bite of an energy bar was all he'd spared for himself upon entering the building. He proceeded deeper into the interior, the glass ceasing to prickle his ears with it's sound after he moved away from the walls. The floor was clearer here, and what was left of the manufacturing technology was largely intact. If the rubble had not near totally prohibited access, he could have expected to find the place long since stripped of valuable machinery, and even more valuable circuitry.

It was circuitry that had brought him here to this manufacturing plant in East Bay, today. He was after a chip, a series of chips, he hoped, which would fill in an order placed on the private bulletin boards back in the New Salt Lake City Freelancer's Guild. He'd already known that this part of East Bay was largely untouched, but the information that what he was looking for could possibly be found here had cost him quite a bit. Nonetheless it was a fraction of what the client would pay if he delivered, and he was determined not to return until he had something to show for his troubles.

Most of the devices here were unfamiliar to him, the layout of the facility had labelled the place as "large vehicle subassemblies" but to him it looked more like they were making further construction equipment. Still, from what he could tell, the chips were fairly universal, they'd run the client's equipment without fault. If he could find any. His first stop was a series of robotic arms along one of the conveyer belts. Not very large, he didn't have high hopes for them, but he would cover all bases nonetheless. It took him only moments to disassemble two of the arms, having been a tech hunter for eight years now, and coming upon his twenty-eight birthday, simpler mechanics were child's play to him. The masses of wires he found, however, confounded him, and the computer nodes (partially salvaged already, he noticed) were even more perplexing. He removed his goggles and whipped a small torch off his belt to get a better look at the things. No help there, in spite of their obviously unique design, the chips would only be found in something higher end. He shone the beam around, idly searching, and caught sight of a large, many pronged tower along one of the larger belts. The goggles were back over his eyes in a flash, and he smiled. A multi-tool construction pod, now he was getting somewhere.

Echoes, as if from a cavern, lead her deeper into the forest. The notes of the plucked strings bounced around and reverberated much more than seemed natural for her surroundings. Not that it was natural to be hearing the music from such a distance. It was all around her, drawing her on. Yet she could somehow tell that its source was still quite far off. She could not, however, tell what instrument was being played. It was the twang of a guitar, and it seemed obvious that it was a stringed instrument. But if it is a stringed instrument, she mused, it must be a very unusual one. Each note was haunting and mellow, almost like a flute but with a more aggressive attack. Was it an ensemble? No, once again something she could not place told her there was but one instrument. One performer.

Pausing for breath, Evelyn stared up at the canopy watching the sunlight stream in between pine and oak. At her feet, swaying in a slight breeze, creepers fought with each other to gain purchase against ancient trunks. The forest was tranquil, and even the music seemed in harmony with the environment here. She pressed on.
Now there was another sound adding it's voice to the echoing melody. She almost stepped in it's source as she came up against a shallow but wide stream. Chastising herself for not paying enough attention to where she was going, she walked along its side until she was certain the music was coming from the same bank before continuing.

As she walked, the wind seemed to be rustling leaves in time with the notes. A gentle percussion that was bolstered by a liquid harmony from the stream. Evelyn was no longer sure she wasn't dreaming. Not that by this point she cared either way. Everything was far too relaxing to induce even the slightest bit of worry. She was even starting to think that perhaps she had died, as eternal bliss could quite possibly be comparative to this.

She stopped once more, to flick a stone out from inside one of her sandals. How dare such a thing interrupt her reverie? A frown creased her face, but within moments the music had soothed it away. She reasoned that she ought to be able to see her mysterious performer by now, but her view was obscured by bushes twice her height. Cursing her height but admiring the red and blue berries which adorned the nearby foliage, she pressed through past leafy stems and halted in wonder.
The river washed down a rocky incline into a pool before her, before carrying on down the way she had come. The sky above was a perfect blue, and was reflected immaculately in the pool. The vision was framed by a ring of trees, birch maybe, and to one side a pile of rocks that she daresay had been arranged into a stage. And there the music played.

To Dream a Dream of Dreams

The train departs.
"Good evening sir, your usual table is ready." Declares the butler. He does not appear to be wearing his usual uniform, but it is unclear beneath his moustache. You follow him to the table, but the stewardess stops you and points to the fasten seatbelt sign.
"Oh dear, it looks like we're going to experience some turbulence. I'm afraid I'm going to have to throw you off the train sir." She says sadly, then grabs you and forces you through one of the small windows.
You land in the ocean. Though profoundly blue and transparent, it has the consistency of custard. Careful not to fall out, you wade ashore. The island you find yourself upon is sparsely populated. Indeed, the solitary palm is barely enough to provide shade for the poor cow.
"Baa," announces the cow.
"Oh? Already?" You ask, bemused.
"Absolutely. Now then, if you'd care to help yourself. The north portion of the udder is milk, the south is cream, the east treacle, and the west is reserved for subscribing customers."
Not willing to miss out, you subscribe to the service.
"Actually, that particular teat is presently out of order. Your continued subscription fees will go towards a suitable-MOO!" The cow squeals as you slay it and proceed to feast upon well cooked steak. At last, your meal over, you take the Only Door off the Island. It is, surprisingly, unlocked.
Standing around the Water Fountain on the office floor are three well dressed Dryads. You approach.
"Scuttlebutt." Says the first.
"Rumour." Declares the second.
"Gossip." Reveals the third.
Appalled, you make apologies, and chew through the ceiling to escape.
You arrive in time to be imprisoned.
"Thank heavens!" Declares the queen of Lemuria. "I bought front row seats!"
She is, in fact, in the back row. You kindly decide not to tell her. To the cheers of the audience you are dragged out of the hole in the floor and thrown into the cell next door. You bow, and then toil into obscurity and institutionalisation for forty years and a night.
It turns out, you were only the understudy.
"A sad mistake, next time we'll concoct more evidence." Says the judge.
"See that you do!" Your lawyer shouts, before jumping out the window. Time slows down as the judge hurls his gavel at you. No fancy leap into the air can avoid the catastrophe, and the entire city is nuked to bedrock.
The Dryads stand above you as you recover.
"Unimpressive." Quips the third.
"Dull." Intones the second.
"Pathetic!" Screeches the first.
They drag you to your feet and toss you off the edge of the universe. It's quite a nice view of oblivion, you think, if only you had the extra thirty seven senses needed to enjoy it.
Baby Cthulhu catches you and murmurs unspeakable nothings in your ear. You giggle, tell it to wait until later, and continue your descent through the nothingness.
It seems to be getting more and more crowded, though. You rather thought there'd be more space. Douglas Adams floats by, unimpeded thanks to his day pass.
"Why didn't I get one of those?" You muse aloud.
"At the tone, it will be holocaust the inevitable," a computerised ferret tells you. "You're rather drunk," it goes on. "You shouldn't have eaten all those marbles."
It's right, of course.
You throw up your marbles on the corner of the alley. Now that you've lost your marbles, going mad, proceeding west, and losing your sanity also sound like passingly spare ideas.
Someone turns the page.
You see a room. Inside is a chair, a table made of steel, a fireplace, and a painting of a boat. To investigate the boat, turn to page 11. To light the fire with your staff of wonders, turn to page 2045.
You find yourself at sea once more. It's less custard-like this time thankfully. No, no you're not at sea, you're lighting the fireplace with your staff of wonder. Someone didn't like the way that page ended up.
The fire blossoms into a portal to the Forest of your Wildest Dreams. You were secretly hoping for Candyland.
But the rest of the book has been ripped in half, and you can't find your place. Turn to page 900.
You're a touch lost now. Three hauntingly familiar trees lean in close.
"Maddening!" Decries one.
"Ludicrous!" Shouts another.
"Line?" Queries the last.
The director sighs, yells cut, and suddenly the world looks a whole lot more boring.
The End.