...like any other. I woke up as usual, at some point in time in a new day. In the dungeon nothing changes. You lie still, you move, use the bucket, drink some water. You know where everything is, you how to move to get to it, without spilling anything, without doing damage. You do all that then you’re free to do whatever you want until a sound from the outside, the sound of feet connecting with the flagstones, alerts you to your work. It’s counting time. Forty-five, forty-five, forty-five, you tell yourself. It’s meal number forty-five. Day forty-five. You’re nineteen years old.

On the other side of the door a key is inserted into the lock, turned, a chain is pulled and the small metal tray in the door falls open towards you. Light bursts at you through the narrow opening. You blink. PLANET OF DREAMS GO WEST. Another blink. The meal appears. A plastic bowl filled with stew. You take it off the tray, the tray draws up, closes the opening, darkness falls. The chain rattles, the key turns, vacates the lock. The footsteps resume, then fade away, leaving you to spend day forty-five as you choose.

Today you’re hungry, inexplicably so ‘cause there is no reason you should be. You’ve just woken up, you haven’t done your push-ups, sit-ups, you haven’t even been to visit Her. But you’re young. So you pull the plastic cover off the stew bowl; it’s a good day today ‘cause there’s meat in your bowl today. You smell it; the smell hits you in the face, stinging hot, like a slap. It’s a beef stew, a real treat. You set about eating it. You chew very slowly, savoring all five pieces, of meat and potatoes, then you slurp up what’s left and find some beans at the bottom, hiding in the gravy. It is a good, hearty meal and you feel happy. After the meal, you make yourself comfortable in your nest of straw and you go west, to meet Her, at the PLANET OF DREAMS. It’s a good day.