“Can I ask you something?” Garvernin asked later that night over a crystalline glass of sparkling grito, glittering with its own animal spirit. The Governor’s Lounge was their favorite spot, a destination in the Down of Town. Once a week after the trials they would head there, find a booth and trade stories, trade impressions, trade their feelings. The energy of the Governor’s Lounge was addicting. It infused them with a sense of life, a feeling that important things were happening, or maybe unimportant things but exciting nonetheless. They feel like the same thing sometimes. The ceilings remained hidden a hundred tractars above, an illusion of light and shadow that kept you wondering: are we inside or outside? The wall lights throbbed in subtle shifts of color in time with soft, velvety rhythms that pulsated throughout as though sourceless. What colors? Sounds? What sense is this? They’re all blurring together. Sound and sight. I hear that color, I see the hum of the night. I like that.

“Sure,” answered Riveariex a minute later. She had forgotten Garvernin’s question, distracted by the decadence of the Governor’s Lounge, pondering the light and ambience, considering the flashing patterns on display all around them. Conversation seemed beside the point. You came here for the illusion of connection, to participate in others’ fantasies. She peered into other booths, other worlds. In each, there was a story unfolding. She wanted to see them all.

“I’m afraid to ask,” continued Garvernin three minutes later. He had an important question. He was anxious about it but it was fading because he too was lost in the reverie of the Governor’s Lounge. Or was it the sparkling grito? Something here stretched time out to the edge of meaning. His answer trailed off and he watched a sinuous wallabax slide her curious form along one of the lit pathways of the Lounge. She moved with grace and poise, finding purpose where there was none. Her dress trailed gleaming amethyst lights the size of marbles, reflecting a galaxy in each. Her deliberate movements hypnotized the patrons. What does she do afterwards? he found himself wondering in a fragile thought that broke apart like a wave on the shore. He was getting there, he realized with slow gargantuan understanding.

Riveariex had nothing to say to Garvernin. She had not even heard him. She was Gazing. She had made it to the Gaze, the state they all sought at the Governor’s Lounge!

Garvernin poured the last of the sparkling grito down his throat and felt its electricity ignite inside him. He fumbled for the buttons on the table. Two frantic taps of the green one and more grito would be on the way. He needed more grito. How had Riveariex made it so fast? She must have snuck some when he wasn’t looking. He would have to ask her about that. Tonight was the night everything was supposed to change. He had so many questions for her, but it was too late.