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Wait.. I drifted, marveling at the plow of ethereal streams. "No way, i figured theme just for Dispensing."

"Nope we've to pass through them," he clarified. "in every sense of the Significance: like a teacher, offering tact on a technical matter -- to assist your thinking process thereAfter, in case mentors run dry."

What a cryptic bender.

"God,on't tell me I'm signing up for extra-curricular Studies..."

He laughed, rich, like fireworks. "You are, but today's conundrum involves how you," he said poking me in the chest, "Have upset my Guideline equation. However, I don't have a tool to balance out the Mass distribution."

"Your new name is Cipherson, okay? Great." I told him.

He continued without blinking. "These crescents I call Spinal Taps, can only be used one time, from whichever side - before they swallow themselves." He exhaled for emphasis. "I told you to spin it twice, because it has to be fairly precise & I didn't want to overdraw power." Morosely, he gazed at me. "If you'd behaved yourself, only four Spines would've appeared, and we could've gone in and out without a hitch. But since you didn't calculate, you've lopsided the portals with asymetrical rift."

My lungs threatened to blossom like wings, entire nervous system twitching.

When I found nothing substantial to reply, he added: "Nor can we can't leave extras sitting there - because it can permit unwanted... hazards. Capiche?"

"Just how long do they stick around if you don't engage their services?"

He scratched his head. "I've only heard reports about over-Extension."

My eyebrows crashed into my hairline. "You mean you don't know??"

"I never spawn more than I need. I rarely travel more than in pairs, so it's typically 2-4 Taps back and forth. This is a case where it HURTS to have extra." My elder released a long breath. "It doesn't matter. We need to retrieve the best hopes y'all got of deterring all the riff-raff out there. Our hand is forced to wager." He stared uneasily at the wavering moons. "Maybe as big a gamble as I've ever taken."

I let loose a whistle, hoping it might expel that sinking feeling with the air. You should've just listened closer, Egghead. The sag in my lower chambers did not ride out of my body as instructed. "So... how'd you fare with previous gambles?"

The Gutter just grunted. "I split about even on my successes; but I died inside versus some steep costs; later I realized I got tougher from the trials. That's just part of Adventure, son. The only way out is forward. Now under there," He pointed to a spot beneath the prehistoric machine gun. "Get us both some gloves out of that slot."

I went over and began searching on my hands and knees. The concrete was no bed of roses. Under the gun was a lid camouflaged into the ground. I mean, I guess all you have to do is paint it matching colors with the floor -- but all this smokescreen stuff seemed taken annoyingly far. It popped open for me, exposing oodles of blinding white gloves in a compartment that had a volume of a few cubic inches. I pulled out a clump of four, and rose to give Gutterson his pair.

"What," I poked, coming to his side. "Gonna burn our hands when we get inside?"

"Nope," he said matter-of-factly. "We'd burn for it if they should catch our fingerprints on the goodie jars."

I could only assume he was alluding to the government, or perhaps a lesser known Guild. But who was I to tell? I was feeling quite low on life experience. So I left that chapter blank and UN-assumed that 'They' were anyone or anything I even thought I might be generally familiar with. "Do I really want to get involved in this shit?" I asked the Gutter, almost rhetorically.

He hopped on my query like a frog knows it was born to eat bugs: "Aren't you already?"

I finished choking my hand with the last glove and said despairingly, "You're right. Just let me be in denial for a second."

"You knowww," he reasoned, "You're not going to want to leave hair roots behind either," and flicked at hair weaving around my ear. I immediately slapped his paws away from my blonde locks. "I'm wearing a bandanna."

"Whoa, horsie." He took a step back. "Just precautionary."

He may have had gloves-to-go, but something for my head? No way. "And I suppose you have a hair net readily available?"

"Matter of fact," he wheezed through rich peals of thunder, "I do!" He produced two from his back jean's pocket. "And even though my hair ain't all there, I'll wear the other so you aren't too humiliated."

Curse my shifty luck. "Oh the joys of timeless entertainment," I grumbled, and snatched at the one he offered me.

"Hey," He laughed softly. "In the 70's, when I wasn't much older than you my hair was so long I could've used it as toilet paper."

Gracious, I could hardly envision him like that. But good for him; he was a spry penguin, came off as younger than his age.

Once my net was fastened in place, I griped, "Let's get this show on the road, Hippie. Just not in your Smoke-filled, shroom-Sniffing, pacifisT'Activist Lunchbox of a van."

"Not jus'h--ehehe!" He leaned against the wall as my flowery language stretched his mouth out of balance, & he attempted to speak through muscles that couldn't relax. "Wait now, ma'boy! Plea… PLEEZE, replu-LAce that tarp… back over The Ga-hat-ling!"

I groaaanned. "Do I have to do all the work around here? How much do butlers cost these days?" but I picked it up and swaddled it back around the stationary craft; soon there was no trace of it ever being present with us. But I could still feel the bulk of the object concealed beneath, whilst my eyes bulged, unceasingly astounded.

Gutt pulled himself together and went back to educating me. "The Spines must maintain a reasonable Equilibrium as we squeeze through, there co-"

I hijacked his sentence: "Squeezing is a No Go. I do not approve of any squeezing, pinching, crunching ex-cettera."

"Buck up, Buttercup," he shot me down. "I'll take left of center, you head right. Make sure to hit the Crescent furthest from the middle, as will I." There were 3 on my appointed side and two on his. He had about thirty pounds on me, so that made sense in mitigating our mass differential as much as possible. "For the least painful ride," he winked, "Try to twist at entry & heave your body in with as much of a bow in your back as possible to slide more fluidly. You'll need a good velocity if you don't want to slow down or get glued to the side, midway."

"Slow?" I spewed. "Glued?" I fretted, suspecting things might get Claustrophobic. "I hope to get back alive, you murderous Cock-a-doodle-doo!"

"No pain no gain, Cheapskate."

In Defiance I heckled, "Race ya momma's boy!"

"Peace out brotha!" Gut tossed, & took off without another word. That good-for-nothing cheater.

The enchanted Wall was only about a dozen paces from where we stood. I shoved off after him, a whole three steps behind, both of us anticipating that I'd catch up. "You've got a screw loose Old timer!" I called. "Get back here, Nutsy-Gutsy, and I'll tighten it up for ya!"

His laugh resonated in my ears, almost as much as the throbbing of my own heart. "If you can catch me then you're spry as a Spring hare!" ...That was some old-fashion jargon no doubt. Couldn't let him get away with that.

"Hey!" I howled, feeling like a real Witsicle this time. "If you beat me over those hills I'll knock off your Mad Hat with a screwball, and when you tumble down I'll call the tourists out to Lon'down Britches!" I pivoted & arched my back, bracing myself for the Plunge.

"Do that and you'll…!" he barked at the moon, about to kiss it, now a full step behind me, as we came within inches of an action that should be going to knock us cold as mackerels. The color drained from my flesh as it rushed up to pummel me.

And we danced off into the Gate(s).

Moon-rackulously, I found myself cascading through what seemed a moist, plum-tinted waterfall, able to hear his final bellow play Ping-Pong against my eardrums… "Blow a fuuuse in your, Fallout! ~under my rubble... ~Riipp vaan We'innn-kill!"

The odyssey through wasn't half bad, serene actually, despite feeling like the loop being cast in a game of Ring Toss. The worst part was the shock of agony I had dreaded, but that only manifested as a wavy stretch-feeling in my feet and neck. Fear is sort of irrational in many cases I guess, but we let it distort us.

There was a strange gurgle of noise as I slipped beyond the plane, becoming what seemed airborne, except for a slippery knot in the pit of my stomach like some kind of vortexual engine, but surprisingly devoid of nausea—perhaps like a system of lubricated rags swishing inside the lodgings of a bunch of cups. All around me a substance akin to sand glittered, but clumpier, yet without slime or scratch. In fact, I could only feel it if I made an effort to disturb it, not it bumping across me. Even then, it was rather comparable to brushing against one's own body hair. Beyond that, direction not mattering, I was surrounded by a tawny syrup which hazy vapors bounced & stretched upon like solids.

I glided, dipped, compressed and swirled through several more snippets of layered glimpses, feeling as though my body was being battled over both by Warmth and misplaced measures of Numbness. Gravity was going raving haywire, folding, flipping, even disintegrating if you can fathom that; more of a sensation that I was encompassed with newfound AgiliTease my sensoRelay couldn't seem to cross-process locations about. It was as if I were a surfer being churned beneath foaming waves after wiping out, the center of my body staying more or less stationary, but certainly disoriented by inter-weaving Currents. At transparent points I saw outside these tubular veins of suction, existed a more casual motion, that seemed to balance the velocity through viscous gleams encapsulating me about and behind for a Canvas.

Then I became aware there was a pressure of fog desensitizing my mind, obstructing either my ability or need to gather negative emotions. It allowed me to hover in a state of consistency. A state free from worry, ambiguity, and hypocrisy. The gray areas had retreated, fairy tales in the first place, understood to be intricacies. For humans, in only having an amount of knowledge to be extracted, hypotheses intrude the unknowns as axioms of wishful thinking, later on, some puffing up and settling as socially undeniable. Such philosophies became exposed as silly and flat.

Now I could feel other Geometries and powers and hopes colliding into Pillars of Devotion, and many other events naked, bled of their fallacies. I was unbound. There were no questions I couldn't ask to mind, and instantly get some fuzzy answer filling in vacant knowledge pockets. It was everything you had ever wanted to discern. It was undisputed order, Stainless Harmony. I felt Exchanging was shelter - and conversely, designating any object as "Mine" sailed Calamitously…

Alas, i ran out of time to incur more such grand questions!

A squirrely, silver blob came hurtling straight for me, & I naturally squirmed to dodge its lick. It plunged into my forehead anyhow with a languid warmth, spreading an erratic crinkling through my spine, retracting vision, & clamping down into near-paralysis.