The dizzying new landscape stretches indefinitely in every direction, the air as still and cold as death...
...A sensation of vertigo and slow, subtle cracking sound are almost your only indication that the ground is in motion, an almost invisibly rolling ocean of warped ceramic tile. At least it smells lemony-fresh.

You make a mental note not to keep standing under the "tree" with several thousand scalpels for leaves, and put away the identification card for now, while you still appear to be alone.

FERN:

..."Kind of" a lot of doors, Willis?? Where are we supposed to go!?


WILLIS:

They're probably wrapping up another surgery, they'll know you're here..."mom."


FERN:

...Are all of these...


WILLIS:

Surgeries, duh!


FERN:

"Surgeries?" Happening now...?


WILLIS:

Huh!? No, that's silly! Surgeries that can happen. Those papers you took let mom or the snippers know what one to open!


FERN:

Okay, I shouldn't even think that's weird by now, but that's weird.


WILLIS:

No it's not! You just don't know anything!!!


FERN:

I sure don't. It's a good thing you're smart, Willis!


WILLIS:

I know!!!






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