After a little back and forth, I come to the conclusion that they either really don’t know anything else that is even remotely useful to the case or they are the best damn liars I’ve ever seen. I also ask about Simon’s own little investigation, but as it quickly turns out, that nobody seems to have seen or heard hide nor hair about this strange girl with the petite stature and golden locks.

After I believe that I have heard everything I need to hear from the couple, I ask Simon whom he talked to about this and get quite a comprehensive list I am hard pressed to write down. I don’t know any of these people, but asking them the same questions again this soon after Simon did feels contra-productive to my case. If anything, they’ll just point me to Simon for their answers. And considering that Simon seems to be genuinely concerned about this whole thing and is their friends...what hopes could I have to get answers he didn’t? After all, I am the stranger here. People are generally more reserved when talking to strangers asking questions. Of course I am still going to verify the story with a few names on this list, after all there’s still a chance that Simon and Miranda have told me nothing but lies and are actually the murderers in this case, but it’s way too soon to make any accusations in that direction.

After bidding our farewells, we return back to the hallway and slowly walk back to the corridor intersection and I ask John, “Do you know any of these people, John?”
“Sure do. Well, not really ‘know’ them, but their names ring a bell. Let’s see...Marcus here is relatively new. I haven’t gotten around to hear his story yet. From what I heard, he came in here alone and immediately asked, whether ‘Claire’ was alright and whether ‘the storm’ was over. So I take it that he sacrificed himself to avert some sort of disaster and save his girlfriend. Really classic. From what I heard, the barkeep set him up with a connection to those guys from Tisis.”
“Tisis? What’s that?”
“The name of a planet, as far as I know. For more details, you’d need to ask Sirus or one of his cronies though. Something about ‘Seed of Destruction’ or something.”
“So...they’re aliens or something?”
John scratches his head and then explains, “Well, in a sense we are all aliens in this world, seeing how we are all born and raised elsewhere. However there is a definite bias of people who come from ‘Earth’ here. Simon, for example comes from an Earth, where they won a war against an invading alien species. Sirus, on the other hand, had ancestors who voluntarily got taken from a devastated Earth and only crashed on Tisis after their spaceship got destroyed. Yet on another hand, this Eternium dude who surrounds himself with the animal people, claims to be from Earth as well, but he didn’t know of an invading species from space, nor about the planet being devastated. On the contrary, he said that the animal people, or ‘Demihumans’ as he calls them, lived along humanity for a long time, without humanity knowing. Sorta like a secret society.”
“...that doesn’t seem to match. And they’re all claiming to have been from Earth?”
“An Earth, mind you. Does the word ‘Multiverse’ mean anything to you?”
“Isn’t that some nutjob theory about how there is an infinite number of universes all existing next to each other with countless versions of ourselves living within it?”
“I wouldn’t call it a ‘nutjob theory’, seeing how we clearly are in a location where multiple of these universes converge into a single nexus point. You don’t get it, do you? All of these people who claim coming from ‘Earth’ are talking about the same planet. The barkeep says, they come from different ‘stories’. But from where we are standing, these ‘stories’ are nothing short of multiple universes, existing next to each other.”
“And...can we visit those universes?”
“I think you’d need to ask the barkeeper that question.”
“Who...is that guy anyway?”
“In all honesty? I have no idea whatsoever. For all I care, he could be God or an angel or whatever. I just know that he makes the best drinks and listens to whatever problems people have.”
“You...think that coot is God?”
“What other explanation do you have for him being able to do what nobody else can do and knowing things that nobody else knows? For having devices that nobody else does?”
“I...but still, ‘God’?”
John laughs and slaps on my back, “Don’t get your panties in a twist, ‘Detective’. It’s just a pet theory of mine. Besides, if he really was ‘God’, wouldn’t he have resolved this little issue instead of sending you? Relying on an amnesiac is rather impotent for an omnipotent being, wouldn’t you agree?”
“So...you’re saying there’s someone...behind him?”
“I believe there to be a common denominator behind this place. Someone’s gotta have built this place, am I right? And there’s a definitive pattern to the people who arrive here and the stories they bring. So, what do you call an intangible being who creates your world and, quite possibly, numerous others and watches over them, leading their chosen ones to what they perceive as destiny?”
“...I get it. Still...it feels unreal.”

Suddenly, John stretches himself and swerves away from the topic, “Ah, look at us, getting all philosophical and stuff, when we actually still have a job to do. So, what do you want to do next?”
“Wait, just like that? We may have the chance to talk to God and you just want to drop the issue?”
“Hey, it’s your story. You can badger ‘keep with your questions until you tire yourself out. But take it from me...he’s not going to hand you the solution of your problems on a silver platter. Especially since, this time, it seems like he too is ‘just a part of the story’.”

With John’s cryptic words still ringing in the back of my mind, we return to the ground level. What to do next? Despite the flood of information I have been subjected to in a very short time, regarding the case, I still don’t know the first thing, except that the girl ‘served on a spaceship’.”

Upon disembarking the elevator, John says he was going to take a break and walks off to the back of the room, disappearing around a corner, leaving me to my own thoughts.
I walk up to the barkeeper, who might well be God or one of his angels who are playing their game with me and who is polishing one of the returned glasses. I take in the scenery, the colorful array of people coming and going. Each of them feels slightly different from the other, some come in alone, some move in groups, chatting happily, some are at each other’s throats from the moment they meet, some leave again disgruntled...there is so much going on here and I am just not a part of it all.

“You’re looking mighty down, pal. Investigation not going so well, huh?” the barkeeper suddenly addresses me and places a filled glass in front of me. Just the drink I need right now, as expected.
After taking a sip, I decide to be forward and ask, “...are you God?”
“...no. I did not create this place and I don’t govern who comes and leaves. I don’t spin the threads of fate within these halls. I just serve the drinks and listen to the people who want to talk. So no. I am not God.”
“Then...how do you always seem to...well, ‘know stuff’?”
“Because that’s my role in this world, Detective. Just like your role is to unravel this mystery we’ve been presented with. I understand that this is all pretty dang meta and stuff, but I have faith in you and your capabilities. And whoever sent you here, whether it was ‘God’ or something...or even someone entirely different, must have faith as well. Otherwise they wouldn’t have sent you.”
“...and what if they sent me just to watch me fail?”
The barkeep smiles and props himself on the counter, putting his towel aside, “Then you must show them that they are wrong.”
“God being ‘wrong’? Really? I don’t know what you’ve been taught, but—”
“I’ve heard quite a few stories in my time,” Keep interrupts me, “And there’s a certain something they all have in common. Hardship and growth. Ask around the people here, they will tell you. Whoever governs this place, he looks out for these people. I do recall one story in particular, where the one who came in had failed, despite giving his life for his world. Even though he stopped the crisis at hand, he was unable to destroy the root of the crisis in his life. As such, while he ‘succeeded’ in his story, he still failed to produce a desirable future for those beside and after him. It was only a matter of time until the crisis would repeat itself.”
“...I fail to see your point.”
“My point is, that I was instructed to give him a means to achieve his own personal happy end. A chance to set things right. To do what he could not do in his world. A chance to change the past that lead to the crisis. And that he did. He had to try multiple dozens of times, failing time and again, but eventually he succeeded and the root cause was eliminated. That did not change the world he came from of course, but at long last he managed to put his mind to rest, knowing that now a world existed, where the tragedies of his story did not happen.”
“...I am afraid I cannot follow.”
“The one who really runs this place...God, if you must call them by any name, is a sucker for happy endings. But they know better than to hand out victories on a silver platter. You will need to earn their goodwill. And you’re not going to achieve them by whining about how hopeless your situation is. Look at the people gathered here. All of them have faced destiny during their time. Some of them have faced impossible odds. And just about all of them overcame them. That’s what gave them the right to be here now. So I suggest you get your ass in gear and start asking questions. Someone ‘s bound to have seen something. Someone’s bound to know something. You just have to find them. And now drink up and get back to work.”

The barkeeper pushes himself away from the counter and returns to serving the other customers. Come to think of it, I’ve never been asked to pay for the drinks he’s pouring me. Nor did I see anyone else pay for anything. Maybe this place is like Valhalla, where those who earned their keep during their lives lounge for eternity. But if that’s true...he’s right. I have yet to earn my keep. Otherwise I’ll be presented the bill sooner or later...and I dread what someone like him could do if someone cannot pay their debts.