The Dark Somnium - Glycemia | A Hidden Webpage Story

Episode Date: October 11, 2026

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It's important for you to sample all the flavors, so you can tell us the best. Or it's important that you sample a combination of flavors that works for you and tell us why. The two men in suit stood over Anthony while he drank the juice. Anthony had been on his way to school when the men offered him free juice. His mom had started packing him oat milk since it contained less sugar, so naturally he wanted that sweet juice. Also, the men showed him pictures of his grandparents to prove, Hey, we're all right, dudes. Now Anthony's stomach started to hurt.

He looked at the empty juice packs in the grass around him. He wanted to stop drinking juice, but he felt he had to take the one being handed to him. Anthony looked at the package and asked them why there would even be rootbeard-flavored juice. Why not just drink actual root beer? Wouldn't be as juicy. After just one sip, Anthony felt dizzy and tired. He was so tired, his jaw wouldn't move to let him apologize for dropping his juice. When he fell, his face landed right on the silver packaging.

He thought that was a funny way to package juice. It was like something an astronaut would have, he thought. That's right. You're going to the moon. Just like an astronaut. Anthony knew he hadn't said that out loud. He couldn't have even if you wanted to. Who were these men?

To the moon, Anthony. To the moon. When Anthony, when Anthony woke up, he was in a dark room with neon purple and neon blue strips of light. Most of the lighting came from the computer monitors against all but one of the walls. Anthony was scared he'd been kidnapped, but he felt relieved. Because he saw other people. People at the computers, typing and clicking.

The wall without any computers had a long bar, presumably for beverages. Anthony tried to ask, where am I? To anyone who would answer. A few people looked at him, but they quickly turned back to their electronic tasks. So he walked to the person who looked the nicest. A young woman with a bow in her hair, and he asked her, Where is this place? You asked me that just yesterday.

Anthony tried to explain to her that he'd never been there before and that he was lost. She didn't seem interested. She hadn't even looked at him. Her eyes stayed locked on the screen. You smell like juice. Just let me download Luke Perry in peace. Anthony didn't know who Luke Perry was, so he looked at the girl's monitor. Three different size squares throbbed in strange patterns.

The patterns made his bones hurt. Anthony stepped back, got away from the girl. She wasn't nice at all. Anthony turned his attention to the coffee bar. Somebody who works here could help, he thought. He hoisted his knees up on one of the stools to look for someone. Nobody was back there, except the dog. Anthony didn't want to make eye contact with the dog.

Its eyes didn't look right. They looked like one of the juice men's eyes. He sat back and pulled out his phone. He didn't want to, but he'd have to call his mom for help, or at least check the map. Even his phone let him down. He had no service. A current of panic ran for me. Anthony's mouth through his bowels. When Anthony looked up, everyone had turned from their monitors

to watch him. We asked you not to do that. We asked you twice. This is thrice. He smells like juice. Juice, the little creep. Anthony told them he just woke up there and he didn't even know where he was. They didn't seem to hear him. He was scared and he didn't know why these people were acting strange. Anthony escaped out the front door when someone yelled out. Whatever that meant, he put some distance between himself in the door before checking to see if anyone was following him. He was relieved to see they were not. Anthony had exited to what appeared to be a normal part of town. Not far from the place he'd fled in a panic was a normal post office, with apparently normal people coming and going.

Just up the hill from the parking lot was a coffee shop and shoe store. The comforting signs of normalcy would have been comforting, were it not for one key fact. He'd never seen this town in his life. He was taking in the scene with growing confusion. Anthony heard a man say, Hey kid! He prepared to run again, but hesitated. The man who had called out to him held up his hands and stepped back.

He only had one finger and thumb on each hand. I saw you run out of there. What you see in there anyhow? Anthony wasn't sure if he should commit to anything, or if he even knew what he'd seen. So he shrugged. Come on, it had to be something. Strange things go on around there. Sometimes it changes shape.

Kind of thing you only notice if you watch long enough. Sometimes there are three windows. Sometimes four. The name changes. Today it's Babel. It was tear last month. Only I remember. Oh, and flashing lights.

Sometimes I see the same person go in a few times but never come back out. How about that? I won't go in though. Above my pay grade." Anthony was more confused than ever, but at least he had someone he could talk to, someone who might help. He asked the man where he was. The man informed him he was in the cornucopia office park, and as he said so, he pointed

at a sign that read Cornucopia Office Park. That didn't help, because where is the Cornucopia Office Park? The man was getting confused himself, so Anthony tried again, this time asking, what What town is this? You have amnesia or something? This is Link's River. Come to think of it, I didn't see you go in, just come out. How about that?

That's a first. But you're not one of them. Something's leaking. Something's leaking. So I hear. Hey, let me give you the old intro. I'm Newton, and I'm a professional eavesdropper. So, you see, it's my job to notice things.

Anthony looked at his phone again. He tried to get a signal, or at least get away from Newton. Anthony didn't like eavesdroppers, professional or not. The man grew intensely curious of Anthony's activity as he tried to look at the phone from all angles. He referred to it as a doohickey, and that was Anthony's first clue that this man had no idea what a phone was. Anthony showed Newton his phone, tapped the icon to make a call. Newton watched with wide eyes. Newton demanded he make a call to anyone.

It didn't matter. So Anthony brought up his next conundrum. Why can't he get a signal in this town? He can't call anyone without a signal. I'm not surprised. I've never seen a phone like that in my life. Sorry, Space Man, we don't have your fancy signals in Link's River. That's when a strange thought crossed Anthony's mind.

A question he never thought he'd have to ask anyone. But he asked the strange man, with some hesitation, if the man could kindly tell him what year it is. And the matter-of-fact answer? 1998. Anthony walked in a confused circle while Newton watched him. The cars were all 80s and 90s models. Nobody going into the post office had a cell phone.

No signal, no Wi-Fi anywhere. Could it be? Anthony thought that he truly was in the 90s? Hey, look, I'll help you, Spaceman, but I'm on a job, so I have to sit here for another two hours. Anthony sat with Newton on some retaining wall blocks along a slope facing the post office. He didn't know what else to do. Newton's job struck him as particularly un-demanding.

After all, and in the interest of stealth silent weight, Newton signaled a weird pincher signal that Anthony didn't understand. He stayed quiet and listened. Just above, and a little behind them, two men sat on a bench outside the shoe store. My wife has a gold heart. A heart of gold. No, her heart is really gold. Oh.

Someone stole it, and I need to get that gold heart back. Stole her heart? Gold is gold is gold is gold. She'll be okay without her heart. It's from her left side, so she'll be all right for now. The two men walked away in opposite directions. Anthony realized he hadn't heard the men walk to the bench. Had they been there all along?

Newton let himself up from the blocks with a big story. stretch and patted Anthony on the back. Anthony asked him why he waited almost two hours just for that. Eh, I was paid for it. Hey, let's go to Zibbs. After walking two blocks, mostly in silence, they arrived at Zeb's Cotton Candy Shack. The sign depicted an anthropomorphic ice cream cone that could have been a cotton candy if you really used your imagination.

The ice cream cone had a faintly menacing glare, but that isn't what made Anthony uncomfortable. He was sure he'd seen this place in a dream. This place is your favorite. Anthony reminded Newton that he'd never been there before, so Newton corrected himself. Oh, yeah. I mean, it's my favorite, but it will be yours. Newton! With each a fluffy, sasperilla cotton candy in hand, Anthony told Newton everything he remembered, drinking the juice,

appearing in the place Newton called an internet cafe, the weird people inside, and then eavesdropping on the Goldheart conversation. Newton told him he didn't have to recap the Goldheart conversation. but Anthony explained, his dad always told him it's important to be thorough. Newton paced back and forth in the cotton candy shop. People in line were getting annoyed as he cut through repeatedly. Newton at last reached a conclusion. Sounds like you need more juice.

Anthony thought that sounded brilliant and regretted misjudging Newton as a creep and a weirdo. He asked if Newton could help him get some juice. Hey, juice ain't friggin' nineteen ninety-eight, kiddo. Anthony offered to pay him back, but that was quickly shot to. down. Next time your time travel? Forgive me for being skeptical, but I'm going to need upfront payment. Anthony looked in his wallet, but found only $5 from 2015. Newton was not impressed. He asked Anthony to try to remember any lottery results from 1998 or 1999, but Anthony explained they don't cover historical lottery results in his middle school. So Newton asked about Y2K,

which Anthony thought must be a band. Darn, kid, ain't making this easy. He'll have to do a job. He'll have to do a job. for me, see? Yeah, there's an eavesdrop. I've had it on my backlocked for a while. A kid like you could pull it off. Do it and I'll buy you all the juice you need. A burly man stepped out from the back and then said, We're out of sugar. The light began flickering. People rushed for the door and Anthony looked around in confusion. He saw the burly man angrily flicking the light on and off, and he was staring directly at Anthony. The man was shouting at Anthony now. Get out, get out, get out. That's Zeb. When he's out of sugar, he's out of sugar.

Anthony followed Newton out so close they might as well been strapped together. Anthony sat under the table, waiting, and bored. He had some games on his phone he could play in silent, so he'd been playing those for a while. His battery would soon be dead, but he guessed that didn't matter anymore. Anthony had heard people come into the other room, could hear them talking now,

but where he sat remained empty. How long had Newton said? Three hours? This was all so strange. The night air had been cool, and a half-moon had greeted him when they left Zebs. Anthony couldn't believe it had gotten dark so fast. Newton told him, must be Zeb turned out the lights. What does that mean?

Then Anthony followed, while Newton led him through a maze of alleys behind the shops on Main Street. Why and how was there so much stuff behind these small-town shops? Anthony wondered. But Newton was too busy hustling them through the maze to answer. Newton had only stopped when they reached a white stucco building in one alley, then pointed at an open window. He then told Anthony he had exactly five minutes to get in there and hide. Anthony didn't understand the assignment at all.

While he waited, Anthony tried to remember Newton's instructions exactly. You'll be standing in a foyer when you climb through. Off the foyer, to your right, is a room with the table. The table in the room to the right of the foyer has a long tablecloth. Climb under the tablecloth and the table and the room to the right of the foyer. and sit there for three to four hours. In five minutes, some people will sit at the table and talk. You just have to listen to them.

I'd do it, but I wouldn't fit under the table. Anthony had protested, but Newton insisted. No work, no juice. Newton had boosted Anthony through the window against his protests. When he landed, Anthony, oh boy. It was at just this moment that he realized, in his panic, that he'd gone left instead of right. In the room to the left of the foyer, Anthony did find a table with a tablecloth, and he did hide

under it, fully believing he'd chosen the correct table. It was too late to go to the other room now. He would have to slip out and let Newton know he'd messed up. Before he could leave, Anthony heard two sets of footsteps enter the room. He turned off the phone screen, so he wouldn't be detected. Two chairs pulled out from under the table at the same time. Anthony felt sure he was going to be found. Instead, two pairs of legs emerged from the tablecloth as the chair scooted forward.

Okay. You ready to do this? You sure it's safe? Anthony noticed the difference in shoes. The women's were black, shiny, expensive-looking. The young men's were a beat-up pair of once-white new balances. He can't get in here. Then I'm ready.

Good. Follow the pendant with your eyes. And listen to my voice. You're going to feel your limbs. relax first, resting comfortably, like grape jello. No. Yes. Then the rest of your body will follow, slowly turning into your favorite flavors of jello.

There's your pelvis turning to cherry. Relax. Your sternum to orange. Relax. Then up your neck to your head. sweet and tart lime. You're all a perfectly relaxed jello now, in a place where there's only truth.

When I ask you questions, you'll answer fully and honestly. Okay? Okay. Where were you? Out in a field, far off the highway, where Curly's dad wanted to build the family home. far back on the land, past the rusty husk of an Edsel. There's an old kind of bunker in her cabin that was just there before anything.

Who's curly? He owns the land now, because his dad died. But who is he? Big Joe's brother. So, we're in the bunker. They had me set up a terminal in the bunker. I was supposed to wait for someone. Then I faded.

What happened? They're coming out. Who? Where? Oh, God. Oh, God. Help me. Help me. They're coming. Calm down. Just tell me... Ah! Anthony had never heard such a scream before, nor did he wish to ever again. His body tensed with terror.

All the juice he drank earlier now roared for release in his bladder. Anthony couldn't hold it back any longer. Come what may. He burst from under the table. The woman shouted, and the wet slapping sound followed. that he assumed was something she threw at him. On his way looking for a bathroom, Anthony glanced back to see if he was being chased. The woman was still standing, staring in terror, at a pile of jello cubes on the chair across from her.

Don't tell them what you heard. Don't tell them. Anthony didn't want to think about it. He went through doors that looked like bathroom doors and found himself back on the street. He kept running for any place with privacy until, at last, he found a spot behind a dumpster where he could let it all out. After this experience, Anthony felt lightheaded and dizzy. The world seemed to be swirling. He stumbled back to where Newton had pushed him through the window.

Nobody was there. He stumbled further down the alley to the back of the building. There he saw Newton hunched over a trash bag, scooping from the trash bag, handfuls of jello, and stuffing it into his mouth. Anthony's eyes bulged and he fell backwards. Newton looked up from the bag of jello. Help me eat some, you little jerk.

I need to learn his secrets. Newton was approaching him with a handful of jello as the world began spinning around him, then fading and fading. Anthony was back in the park, surrounded by empty cartons of juice. The men in suits were gone, and Anthony was shivering from the cold. Some men gave him juice. Anthony's parents let him stay home from school for a few days after the incident. They told him not to accept juice from strangers anymore,

that the men had probably put drugs in the juice, Talks of getting a therapist had begun. When Anthony went walking to school the next week, he saw two men in suits sitting on lawn chairs. He was overcome with fear, stopping in his tracks, a sweat breaking out on his forehead. He didn't know if he should turn back or try to run around them. As he looked, the men each licked a giant lollipop and watched the traffic go by. They seemed to be enjoying that lollipop. An old man walking by said,

I hope to find a wife who loves me the way they love that lollipop. Anthony realized they weren't the same men. He let out a deep breath he didn't even know he'd been holding and kept walking. So, what'd they say, Anthony? Anthony looked back and saw the men had lowered their lollipops. They were looking at him from over their sunglasses. Anthony yelled at them to leave him alone. Hey, hey, you were back there.

You heard the words. What did the men say? Anthony felt some slight relief again as he realized it might just be about the old man. So Anthony repeated what he'd said about the lollipop. You're not going to make us beg now, are you? The second man dropped his lollipop as he looked at Anthony with disappointment. What men? It suddenly struck him.

He asked if they meant the guys he'd listened to with Newton outside the shoe store. The men looked at each other and shrugged. Anthony thought back and said what he remembered, that one of their wives had a golden heart and someone stole it. Golden heart or heart of gold? Think carefully, Anthony. Your fliskers depend on it. Anthony made them promise to leave him alone if he told them.

They nodded, so he took a sheet of loose leaf out of his backpack to write down the conversation as best he remembered it. To his surprise, he'd remembered it almost verbatim. He handed the paper to the men who greedily read it over. Are you sure he said she'd be all right? When Anthony confirmed, the man who still had his lollipop held it out for Anthony to have a lick. He raised his eyebrows compassionately and nodded. Anthony turned and kept going to school at a brisk pace.

He felt something hit him in the back. He looked and saw one of the men had thrown a lemon at him. It had a dead face on it, with X's for eyes and a tongue. When he looked up from the lemon, the men in suits were gone. Years later, Anthony was in his senior year of high school and looking forward to studying environmental science in college. His dream was simple, to make a difference. The men in suits had been true to their word.

They'd never bothered him again, and he was able to dismiss it. His mother was right. They were just strange men who drugged him. He could have gone on believing that if he'd just kept his eyes to the ground. But Anthony wasn't raised that way. While driving through a nearby college town with his girlfriend, exploring his future campus, he saw something that made him grow cold. A Zeb's cotton candy shop was open with a line out the door.

Anthony stopped short. His girlfriend, Hermione, was puzzled. I didn't know you liked cutting candy so much. Anthony distractedly informed her that he doesn't. Getting out of the car, he asked a young man in line how long Zebs had been open for business. The man said since just a few days ago, Been spreading like a wildfire, man. Wild fire. F-and-crazy. A woman in front turned to tell Anthony the same thing, telling him, it's Zebs, dummy.

Anthony tried to push his way in, but got elbowed in the ribs for his trouble. The wildfire guy put a finger in his face. Better not cut in line, pal. We'll have to slap you all over. Anthony lied and said he was applying for a job, which completely changed the tone. The line shifted to let him walk in. More employees, faster service, Anthony guessed. Still, everyone in line carefully guarded their spot in case he was up to something.

Hermione followed behind Anthony, assuring everyone she was just as hungry for work, not sugar. The man behind the counter made eye contact with the same. Anthony. He looked familiar, but he wasn't. The man squinted suspiciously. Anthony called to the man that he wanted a job. The man ducked under the counter. He came back up with something in his hand. He planted it on the counter. It was a lemon with a dead face on it. The same one. Customers waiting for their cotton candy were bewildered and mostly annoyed at Anthony. This is weird. Anthony looked into the lemon's excise, and he knew. It had been real. It had all been real. This is weird. Anthony stared into the dead eyes of the lemon, beginning to feel

dizzy. This is weird. Yeah, Hermione, it's weird. Let's go. When Anthony turned to talk to Hermione, he saw she had not followed him out of Zebs. He assumed she was right behind him. The light inside Zebs flashed several times before going out entirely. Disappointed customers dispersed from the line. Others exited the building, some with, but most without, cotton candy. He heard it. He heard a teen girl muttering as she went by. Dang, Nabit! I wanted to try the jello head of flavor. Amongst the crowd, Hermione was not to be found.

Anthony re-entered Zebs. It had completely emptied. Even the staff were gone. Hermione was nowhere. The lemons still sat on the counter, mocking Anthony. He shouted for Hermione. No one answered.

Anthony stood alone in the dark, empty Zebs. The cotton candy mascot smiled down on him. When Anthony exited Zebs, It was night. I guess Zedb turned off the light, he said to himself. He didn't know what to do. He should report Hermione missing to the police, but what would he say? How would he explain what happened?

Anthony's phone chimed with a new text message. He plunged his hand into his pocket, feeling a wave of relief. It must be Hermione. The text was from an unknown number. It read, I told you not to tell them what you heard. Anthony texted back. Who is this? The text returned with a delivery failure.

The light in Zebs flashed a single time. A different number texted immediately. Step back into Zebs for answers. Anthony looked at the pink and white building. He wanted to go in. He felt he should. He felt he needed answers. He also felt something in there wanted to hurt him,

that if he stepped in there, he'd never step out. He trusted that instinct. He got in his car and drove off. After he had been driving for ten minutes or so, he got a text from the last number. It read, you made the right choice. Anthony didn't know what to do. It was happening again. Where was Hermione?

Was she back in Link's River? Then, as he drove aimlessly, a strange notion crossed Anthony's mind. Do they still make that juice? He stopped at the first grocery store, Lengeman's Independent. In a small corner of the juice aisle, below even the budget juices, were some unobtrusive silver packages, like MREs, barely anything to advertise what they even are. That was it. Strange juice. How they continued to be sold was a mystery. Though there are greater mysteries, Anthony told himself.

A passing clerk asked Anthony if he would stop talking to the juices. Anthony looked over the different flavors available. Ginger, apricot, gooseberry, cascarilla, and loose. Loose? Anthony wondered. When the clerk passed again, Anthony flagged him down. He asked the man if they had any root beer and strawberry flavors for this juice, and impressed upon the man that it was important.

The clerk dropped a cloth in front of the juices, then knelt on the cloth. He picked up each juice pack, one by one, studying the tiny black print in the crease, taking his sweet time. The clerk managed to find a strawberry, which he handed to Anthony. He looked through the remaining packs and concluded there was no real. root beer juice here. What would be the point anyway? Couldn't you just buy root beer? How to go flat? Anthony let him know that just wouldn't be as juicy. The clerk responded by pulling a rare two thousand twenty-one root beer juice pack from his Gundam lunch pail. Why was he walking around with

his lunch pail? Anthony wondered. Well, I guess you really need this. Before you ask, you can't buy it. You have to solve a riddle for me. Here's the riddle. If you are here, Who do I have in my basement right now?" Anthony eyed the root beer juice pack. How much did he need it? It was the key. The men with the glasses had told him that. He vividly remembered them saying,

strawberry, apricot, ginger, apricot, root beer. That'll get you where you need to go. Strawberry, apricot, ginger, apricot, anything else. That'll make you go splat. The thought, we didn't say that, popped into Anthony's mind. Maybe they didn't? It was true, though. The root beer was essential.

Could he snatch it from this man or get it from another store? He sure looks like you. The clerk held up his phone for Anthony. A video played on the phone showing a young man tied to a chair in a red-lit room that could have been a basement. Posters of Miley Cyrus covered the walls. The young man didn't just look like Anthony. It was him.

He recognized the scar in his forehead from when he fell off the swing sets. That's the scar from when you fell off the swing sets. The red text, live, flashed in the corner of the video feed. What's going on? Anthony asked. The clerk shrugged. For a moment, I thought you'd escaped and wanted revenge. But you must have split.

Well, since he didn't solve the riddle, I guess you... So alone. It's been years. There's something in here with us. I can hear you breathing. Is that you breathing? Why are you breathing? Now is here, though, coming.

She's dead now. Why won't you talk? You smell like juice. Now with us. You were coming to. Here and getting closer. It sounds like other things. If it gets you, it's spruce.

It spreads you like a jelly. Heard others spread. Others like you. Others that wouldn't talk. I hate you so much. Jelly boys. Jelly boy. Jelly boy.

Jelly boy. Jelly boy. Jelly boy! Anthony fell to the floor, knocking the wind out of him. Mercifully, the plastic cherry he'd been tied to, broke. He remained on the floor, gasping for a few minutes, while he extricated his limbs from the rope. Did he drug me? Anthony wondered.

How long had he been out? He looked up to see the camera. A red light flashed in a dark corner of the ceiling. With a piece of broken chair, Anthony knocked it to the floor. In the dim red light, Anthony could find neither doors nor windows. It was just walls, walls and Miley Cyrus. She gazed at him mockingly. her mouth grinning.

Anthony felt for his phone, but he had nothing on him. His clothes were completely different. He walked the perimeter of the room, looking for anything, a hatch, trapped or any way out. He guided himself along the walls with his hand. He noted one Miley Cyrus poster that seemed different. It was larger than the others. Her face seemed to emerge from the poster.

He took a step back and studied it. He touched her face. He pushed in on it as a reflex. Her face was forced back into her head, and the wall around the poster popped open with a click, revealing a set of stairs. The stairs led directly up into a kitchen. There Anthony found hoarded boxes of every flavor of juice. All the juice he needed was right there.

He dumped one of the boxes. He then filled it with triples of every type of juice. On his way out of the house, Anthony heard a voice. It was the clerk's voice. Anthony began shaking at the sound of the voice. He tried to calm himself with breathing exercises. They didn't work. I'm killing you right now.

Anthony spotted the Wi-Fi doorbell where the voice was coming from. He picked up a loose brick from the yard and smashed the doorbell. So that's a loose flavor, Anthony thought. He stepped off the porch into a neighborhood he didn't recognize. He had no phone, just a box full of juice packs. The clerk would be coming to find him soon. He was sure. He went running through the neighborhood.

He finally stopped to catch his breath in a small park. While Anthony panted, he eyed the juice packs. He could do it, he thought. Anthony sat down in the grass, like that day as a child, and began with the strawberry juice pack. It was wretchedly oversweetened, the strawberry flavor like crushed Flintstones vitamins. He could almost feel the sugar flowing through his veins. The apricot pack was a little better, tasting just like apricot jam, which is fine for jam, but way too sweet for a juice. The ginger juice pack was barely sweetened at all, launching an authentic, spicy, and bittersweet ginger flavor down his throat.

The next pack of apricot juice sued the effects of the ginger. The juice process was truly a roller coaster Anthony never wanted to experience again. He then picked up the final pack, root beer. Holding tightly to the box, Anthony sucked on the uncarbonated root beer syrup. He stared blankly around the neighborhood. He began to say, nothing's happening. Then Anthony collapsed, his head and shoulders hanging into the cardboard box. I didn't know you liked cotton candy so much.

When Anthony woke up, he was in a dark room with neon purple and blue strips of light. Most of the lighting came from the computer monitors against all but one of the walls. People were at the computers, typing and clicking. The wall without any computers had a long coffee and beverage bar. Anthony wondered aloud where he was. His head ached and his body felt horribly dry. He was dizzy and disoriented. A few people looked at him but turned back to their electronic tasks.

He walked to the person who looked the nicest, a young woman with a bow in her hair. Can you tell me where this is? He asked. You just asked me that tomorrow. Anthony apologized for the oversight and told the woman to enjoy her Luke Perry. His mind had cleared some and he knew where he was. And he knew he should get out of there fast, given what happened last time. But something about that dog.

He knew it was back there, without even seeing it. Then Anthony saw what the girl was looking at. It wasn't Luke Perry or weird patterns this time. She was looking at pictures of Anthony, cycling through them rapidly. Anthony saw himself going to school, learning how to drive, playing in his yard, at the beach. Anthony asked the woman what she was doing. She turned and looked at him. Her eyes were empty, lifeless, like the stare of a fish.

He backed away. Didn't we kill him before? Anthony bumped into a middle-aged man. The man was watching a webcam of a sort of cabin in a meadow. Three men came running out of the cabin, one of them holding a desktop computer. Soon after, pasty, bald men emerged from the same cabin. At least a dozen of them, Anthony felt like they knew he could see them. They know you can see them.

Better go before someone got to delete you. He'll go to the recycle bin first. Isn't he there already? Is it Thursday? I think it's Thursday, but wasn't tomorrow just... Anthony gasped and looked over to the corner where a woman in her 30s or so, who, he'd noted, had been completely quiet, had pushed her chair down and was now stomping while she continued screaming.

Anthony took the distraction to retreat. Anthony expected to see Newton outside waiting for him. He was relieved to see he was alone in the parking lot. Now he had until his bladder was full to try to resolve his problem. He barely understood what his problem was, let alone how to stop it, but Anthony felt, at least, that the woman in this strange building might be able to help him. She seemed to know things. He walked to Zebbs since that had been the start of his journey.

As he approached, the lights were already flashing on and off, like it had been waiting for him. Anthony turned into the alley where he'd once followed Newton. It seemed much less sinister in the daytime. A man in his son walked along the alley and ducked into a door that seemed to be like it couldn't lead anywhere. Optical illusion, Anthony muttered to himself, though he wasn't sure. He continued down the alley, trying to find the spot Newton had made him climb through the window. The alley went on for impossibly long. This town was not this big, Anthony thought. A horse without any

attendant clumped across an intersection in the alleys. It stopped short. Anthony did the same. It turned its head, looked at him, and held Anthony's gaze. It made a moment. It made a moment. moaning sound. It sounded human. It did it again and watched Anthony for a reaction. Anthony shouted at it to stop. It moaned again and made a sound that resembled... Oh, God. Then galloped away. Hey, stop moaning down there. Anthony tried to tell the man that it was the horse moaning and not him. There was no horse. I was watching you the whole time. Anthony broke out in sweat and felt ill immediately. He stumbled further down the alley until he had to sit on some steps.

outside his service door. Stop moaning down there. Anthony was confused. He asked the man what he was talking about. The man threw a potted plant at Anthony. It missed, hitting the wall behind him. A piece of pot shard flew through the air and cut his cheek. Anthony stumbled down the same stretch of alley he was sure he'd just stumbled down.

This time he went further than the steps, down a staircase, past two intersections, afraid he might be moaning the whole way. And there it was, the window, and Newton. And Newton. Newton was there, sitting outside of it, rubbing his chin and staring at the aperture. Anthony wondered if he should turn back or try to hide. Hey, you, do you think I could fit under one of the tables in there? Anthony tried encouraging Newton, saying he believed him. Newton felt that to be the wrong answer.

He drew a knife and tossed it from hand to hand. Unarmed and uncertain, Anthony offered Newton all he had, some juice. Newton approached cautiously. Anthony lowered the box, showing Newton all the packs inside, announcing some of the cool flavors. Anthony also told him how, by drinking them in a certain order, he could unlock new abilities. Lock acid reflux? Anthony shrugged. Nevertheless, Newton was interested. He looked through the juice packs with some intensity.

Anthony let him know what worked for him was strawberry, apricot, ginger, apricot, ginger. Which, of course, is not what worked for him. He had no idea what that would do. Uh-huh. But what's with the root beer? I'm curious. Anthony became a little nervous. Why had Newton singled out root beer?

It's like he knew something. Anthony decided to play it cool. He told Newton that was the best flavor of them all. Starting with it gives an extra boost. Newton grabbed the entire box of juices for himself. For a moment, Anthony felt sure Newton was going to run away with them, but he drank. In the very order, Anthony suggested. Newton complained they were too sweet, but that was the least of Newton's problems.

Anthony gasped as Newton began levitating. Then his body was pulling away from Anthony. Whoa, you weren't kidding. Newton's body seemed to glow and was slowly floating away from Anthony down the alley. Anthony watched Newton try to ground himself. He flailed his arms and legs like a swimmer, but it made no difference. He remained upright, six inches off the ground. Help!

I can't stop! Help! Hell, get me back! Anthony assumed Newton would stop when he struck the building he was approaching. Instead, Newton's body passed right through the solid wall. Anthony watched for several minutes, but Newton never re-emerged. Anthony wondered where Newton might end up. He felt a moment of concern that he just murdered someone. But he didn't know what would happen.

At least, he didn't believe he did. No one ever knows what one knows. Anthony turned his attention to the window now. Since he was full grown, he had no need of a boost. He pulled himself through with no problem. The foyer was just as he remembered it. Bright, almost glowing, golden honeycomb motifs covered the walls, floors, furnishings. The place even smelled of honey.

Anthony entered the room where he'd hidden under the table. Nobody was there. He continued out the door to the hallway he'd once fled down. He went the opposite direction, where he found a staircase. On the second floor landing, a receptionist looked up from some paperwork. Anthony felt like a trespasser, probably because he'd snuck in by a window. The man smiled at him, but otherwise ignored him. Do you know where the hypnotherapist is?

Anthony asked the man. He silently pointed down the hallway. Anthony went that direction, thanking the receptionist as he passed by him. He wondered how the man could work with this constant buzzing. Anthony made it to the end of the hallway, passing only unmarked. doors. The hallway continued both right and left. Now take it left. Anthony looked back, but saw no one. He took the advice and proceeded down the left side. Again, a lot of unmarked doors.

Just past it. Anthony took a step back. He looked around for cameras. He politely knocked on the door in front of him, but it wasn't completely closed, so his knock pushed it open. Inside the office sat a woman in a scarlet armchair. Her jet black hair was cut into a bob and and she wore all black, from shoes to turtleneck. Her white face floated in red and black. Anthony hadn't gotten a good look at her those years ago, but the expensive shoes looked right. She was watching him as if to ask,

why are you here? So he asked her if she was a hypnotherapist. Something like that, but not quite, as I think you know. Anthony took a deep breath and let it out. He told her that tomorrow she would be meeting with a man downstairs to hypnotize him. He knows, because years, years ago, he was there hiding under the table, and he saw the man turn to jello, and weird things have been happening, and his life has never been the same since, and he just wants

things to be normal, and he asked her for help. She laced her black-gloved fingers and thought for a moment. You drank juice? Anthony nodded. You were in the Internet Cafe. Anthony nodded again, somewhat ashamed, as if he'd done something wrong. The woman was silent for a full two minutes. He watched her, but was afraid to interrupt her thoughts.

Then she stood up. Well, it leaked. Clearly. Not your fault. You're stuck. And you... You are not what you think you are. Sit in this chair, Anthony.

He did as she asked. He expected it to be warm since she'd been sitting there for some time. But it wasn't. The woman pulled a pendant and a syringe out of the box on a shelf. Anthony began planning his escape. To a surprise, the woman injected herself with the contents of the syringe. Something inside the syringe looked to Anthony like a small worm. Look at the pendant.

Anthony found himself unable to look away from the pendant. He heard her tell him he was turning to jello. He had to agree with her. His feet were jello. It's amazing how much his calves were jello. His thighs were jello too. She's just so spot on, he thought. What does she get this vast knowledge?

Yet deep down, he felt absolute terror. If he didn't get away, he knew what was going to happen. And there was only one way to get away. Anthony relaxed his pelvis, thought of waterfalls, and allowed his bladder to release. That'll warm the chair up, he thought. Oh, no, you don't. As he faded, Anthony felt the black gloves grabbing him by the face, then something metallic in his mouth, but he couldn't see or hear anything.

It's important for you to sample all the flavors, so you can tell us the best. Anthony began vomiting. Multiple colored spray of juice splashed onto the man's shoes. Worms writhed over the laces. Go get the suriper. Anthony vomited again, this time clear fluid and a thin metal chain. Anthony panicked and clumsily grabbed at the chain. He could feel something moving in his throat as he pulled on it.

He kept pulling until the pendant and rest of the chain slid all the way out. The men let out a blood-curdling shriek at the side of the pendant and ran away on all fours. Anthony looked at his arms and legs. He was a kid again. Back at that day in the park, the juice boxes surrounding him, how is this possible? He asked. You're unstuck. Had he heard that?

Anthony wasn't sure. Maybe it didn't matter. He hurried home, curled up in his bed, and slept for 24 hours straight. His parents had begun to worry until he woke up feeling amazing. He hugged his mom and his dad and his brother once after the other. He told them all he was sorry. When they asked what for, he just shrugged. He didn't know himself.

That night, when he had some time alone, he studied the pendant that had rescued him. It hadn't all been a dream. This really happened. The pendant looked like a mermaid. Without much thought, Anthony rubbed the detailed scales over lower body. He heard a click. Anthony rubbed more aggressively. The human top and fish bottom began to separate.

It's a USB stick. He put the pendant back together. He had no interest in knowing what was on it. It wasn't the right time. He walked to his bedroom window and looked out at the night sky, felt a sense of wonder, as he often did, at what was all out there. He was glad he hadn't lost that sense of wonder.

When Anthony looked down, he saw Hermione as he remembered her. She was standing in the street outside his window, looking up. He felt a moment of dread. Whatever it happened would plague him his whole life. He knew that now. The weirdness would follow him. He lifted up the pendant. As he did, Hermione took a step back, turned, and walked away.

He guessed maybe, perhaps. He'd be okay after all.