The letter I received from Dexter Shuman came with instructions on the back of the card. There was a time written down and an address. One little word completely flipped my world upside down. It was as if the great Atlas himself heaved the Earth off his back. I shared the feeling I wasn't held down by the world anymore.

There was so little information I didn't know what to expect. In my own letter, I asked for an internship, but I couldn't be sure that he was accepting that. The only thing I could assume was that this was some sort of interview and that I might be able to learn more there. It really didn't matter though. Meeting the man was more than I could ever hope for. My desperate message was an attempt to be anywhere close to a job with him. If I could be involved in any way, even as a PA getting coffee, I would be more than satisfied. This was my chance. 

In the back of a cab, I barely recognize the city. Driving around, the streets don't seem to make sense. I passed this one already, and that one is supposed to be by the train station and not here. I hope this guy knows where he’s going.

Getting out on a cobblestone road I enter the crowd. People move up and down the block, side to side and in directions I can't follow. They are speaking amongst themselves but I need to get my bearings from what they're saying. None of them are speaking English apparently. I notice a pair coming towards me so I shadow them.

They continue down the promenade stopping at a bakery. From behind them, I notice a tray of freshly made fudge samples by the entrance. The couple takes a few and chews them for a while before heading into the building. There is a coffee flavor fudge, but only a few pieces left. I eat all of them immediately. While I am stuffing my mouth with three or four pieces at once, a waitress comes around with a new batch and glares. Ridden with guilt, I slip into the shop. 

At the front of the store, Sophia is posted handing out menus. It is an upscale, French patisserie with desserts and delectables behind glass.

“Hey, fancy seeing you here.” I tell her.

“What are you doing?” She says. “You can't be in here like that. Go put on a uniform so no one sees you.”

Through the doorway to the side, I find a stairwell with a rack of aprons. They are completely tangled in a rat’s nest. When I start to get to work untangling them another worker makes his way up the stairs. Frantically, I pull at the strings. One comes loose and I throw it over my head and go back to her. 

Back in the entry hall Sophia is sitting on a beach chair and I take the one next to her. She looks down at my chest where a minuscule apron the size of a matchbook is hanging from my neck. I hadn't noticed it was so small when I pulled it off the wall.

“I just want to talk to you about the other night.” I say.

A manager sees us and storms over. She doesn't recognize me and she looks indignant.

“I haven't seen you here before.” She grumbles.

I feel the urge to run.

“Alright, you know the drill. Arms up!” she shouts.

After awkwardly patting me down she pulls out a small firearm from my clothes that I didn't know I had.

"Thought so." She huffs and walks away. 

I turn back to Sophia, but she now has customers to handle so I wander into the next room and sit at the bar. It is clean and well stocked with the finest cognac and scotch. Next to me, a tall, dark fellow with the head of a bird notices my innate nervousness. His oily feathers and sharp, black eyes have a sheen to them. The long, obsidian beak turns to me.

"You should know," he speaks, "that this is a long journey." 

“I know.” I tell him.

“Once you are finished it will all be over.” He says gravely.

“Okay.” is all I can respond.

“This will all be in vain.”

“I have to bring order and justice back to the realm.”

“There is no justice. We do not get what we deserve, we get whatever happens to us regardless.” He insists. “The sword will be yours.” He says.

“The sword will be mine.” I repeat. 

“The sword will be mine.”  He echos.

“The sword  will be yours.” I say back.

I don't know what is happening, but it all makes me feel uncomfortable. I look down at my drink, a glass of whiskey with a worm wriggling inside it. I push it away and turn around. The man next to me went back to his own drink.

The door back to Sophia is on the ceiling, or I am, I realize by seeing the street out the window. The barfly cackles and I jump down to get out of here, out the back door. Down the alley layers of debris are tripping me up. Trash and rubble become knee deep then it stops. In the clearing, a large Japanese Tori gate stands alone. The alley drops off into a large crater like a black hole had swallowed up the entire landscape. 

Sophia appears behind me.

“What was all that about back there?” I ask.

“You can’t just barge in like that, you’ll throw the whole thing off.”

“Right. It’s obvious I’m dreaming right now. So what does it matter if I wake up?” I argue.

“I thought you would have wanted to see me again.”

“I do. Not like this, but for real.”

“I am real.” she protests.

"You aren’t really you. Characters in dreams represent emotions or different parts of the psyche."

“Which part am I?” she challenges me.
“Regret, probably. I wish I could stop holding back with you. Or, maybe you’re indigestion for all I know.”

“Why can’t this be real? What if we are meeting right now in our sleep?” she proposes.

“That’s impossible. I’m lucid enough to be able to tell the difference.”

“And yet not lucid enough to stop arguing with what you believe is a figment of your imagination?” she jokes.

“You have me there. There has to be a way to prove that you are really here, then. Logically, I mean.”

“It is impossible to seek what you don’t know. How would you be able to know what it is when you find it?” she asserts.

“If I ask you a question I know the answer to, then it could be my mind answering it. I’m playing chess right now with my mind and I can’t predict the game plan.” I hypothesize.

“And if you ask something that only I would know the answer to, then you have no way of confirming its validity.”

A faint bird call resounds down the alley.

“Alright. So, what if I do believe you? What does all of this mean?”

“We already know everything there is to know. We come here only to remember it. You know that your quest needs you to go down there.” she explains.

“Why? What's down there?”

“Darkness. Nothingness.” She mourned. “It is the only way to the other side.”

My legs start to give out as I lean over to get a closer look. I back up and bump into Sophia.

“Not even the wise ones made it this far. I have been instructed by the Muses to guide you the rest of the way. But it is time to go, we must leave now.” She insists as the raven’s caw becomes a louder, unkind choir.

She leads me down, deep into the pit until the horizon is gone and even the stars disappear.