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1-172 [Frook 1, chapter 1.7, brick 2]

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 Skip stepped off the overly fleshed out transportation something-or-other onto flat, rock-hard pavement so concrete it seemed to wonder when someone was going to get around to liquifying back into mortar@?/. Its loathing for its solidity was already intrusive into Skip's thoughts, but that he seemed to be on an endless flat horizon of the stuff in all directions even more decreased his desire to start exploring. Just the idea of wandering an endless purgatory of infinite dullness is always a traumatic and confusing concept for any freelance novelist approaching the contracted deadline for a frwoa needed to save all existence from oblivion. Skip's two main mental debates were A) whether he was one, and B) whether a pencil and paper would help or hurt if he was.
 Tabling the fact that right now there did happen to be a few people around to potentially talk to--including a few passengers mumbling him to step beyond the yellow line so their ride could leave, and a humanoid lump of black-spotted pink-orange clay so short and cute and uniform that it looked like it had just stepped off a badly-drawn anime trading card game who was staring straight at him--Skip postponed resenting everyone rudeness in favor of pondering his museful situation a bit more

 As Skip visually logged the scene more, the information that remained to be explored and noted quickly vanished, as there didn't seem anywhere else to go that needed referencing. Hence as he looked around, his sense of diligence that he should probably start doing something productive began to kick in. This was usually a feeling he procrastinated at all costs, but the sheer monotonous uselessness of the place with nothing to distract him except more of the same sheer useless monotony--among other sheer useless monotony--gave him virtually no excuse to do anything else but the get the hell to work.


 He was struck with the feeling of being a low-rez video game character dumped into a training or loading level where he was supposed to be jumping around or doing jumping jacks to prepare for the first level-1 goo ball that would drop out of the sky to attack him as soon as soon as he was ready to fight. Being a master of logic, there was a very obvious way to avoid any such violence: procrastinate training indefinitely and stay so useless that his program wouldn't bother killing him off the first hit because it wouldn't be fair to his controller. There was only one problem: a quiet gut feeling that a "protection from all future enemies" ability would be way too easy to work.
 Hence, the more Skip focused on resisting his impulses to start moving around, the more he felt the skill level of the entire game-feel around him sink. He got the surreally vivid feeling that somewhere out there--somewhere up and away out and beyond the dullness--the control sequences to get him to do complex interesting things got more and more easy. While he might have otherwise been a buddying Level-1 Ninja bound to eventually advance to multi-black belt martial arts, the methods to control him became easier and easier, until finally all that was left were the basics: He could "attack", "guard", "fart", or "run". Skip didn't care for any of those, so he simply rejected the game interpretation of his setting completely. He didn't have time to start pondering another one as the stumpy manga-thing cleared its throat and upped the luminosity of the cardboard-shaped rectangle of trippy holographic bubble-letters it was holding that said "Skip". Skip gave the scene one last rhetorical scan to confirm there wasn't anything more exciting to explore or interact with.

 As Skip approached the poor lousy excuse for a manga rip off character (perhaps even literally, since in this strange place, for all Skip knew, from the stout blobby thing's frangle it actually had ripped off of a physical trading card and evaporated to be plopped into this bizarre gray dimension), it glowed for a moment with a cute neon-fuzzy aura as if it had gained an extra life in a cheap console game. (For that moment the third spacial dimension seemed to diminish a little, and it almost seemed like a 2D sprite). It was gone just as quickly, however, as if had suddenly realized it had missed a fine print negative sign before the 1-Up and it had actually lost a life instead. Almost immediately it became depressed that it had become depressed, and looked curiously up to Skip seemingly for something positive about him he'd overlooked. t suddenly
It finally decided to poke Skip

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