HAHAHA this guy is the best! I haven't had a susurrus like this in so long! The object of my mirth sat down below me. For the last half-day I had been following the figure. Figure because I’m not really sure what he is. At first I thought he was a Reform, but his eyes didn’t seem right.

Mother always told me Reforms had a lot of variation, but their eyes only had a few colors. I made a mental note to ask if orange is one of them. I don't think so. I even think they’re glowing. Or are they? I’m gonna see if I can go get a closer look when he enters hibernation. Reforms have to do that right?

Anyway, this not-Reform was the best! As I was playing in the city earlier, I picked up a vibration in the ground. At first I was scared, but please, what have I been doing my whole life if not getting stronger? While I haven't spread my net yet, anything that would avoid the other runners couldn't be that strong anyway!

So I went towards the initial vibration, but it suddenly got a lot smaller, as if he was barely moving. He wasn't moving at all! I was worried I’d lost it, or something had just fallen. Imagine how boring that would be. But no! He was there!

I was going to talk to him, but knowing Mother and the stolon, they would take the interesting being away from me. They always did that. “You’re too curious,” they would say, “It could be dangerous,” they’d reason. In the end I think they’re just stingy killjoys! I have my own roots! I can handle it! I’ve almost reached sixty rings by this point and they still treat me like a sprout!

Instead, I decided to watch him. And it was awesome!!!! A couple times he was boring, but he made so many strange movements and noises! At one point, he was slapping himself and little pebbles were flying out. I never knew Reform-like beings were so exciting. I wonder if dad was like this. The strange creature even rolled on the ground for a while, much to my approval.

Eventually the sentient stood after staring upward for a while. What's so interesting in the sky anyway? There's no trees or plants, just air. Yeah, wind tickles, but there's nothing else it does. We don't even really need it to survive anymore. He should appreciate the earth more.

The not-Reform walked to one of the old stone trees I had tested my Soul Spore on cycles ago. After some climbing he sat on the rim. I was elated that the non-Entropy appreciated my handiwork! That was one of my proudest moments. I was about to comment on his fine taste of my obvious artistry, but what did he do? HE LOOKED UP AGAIN!

Unacceptable. I needed to show him the glories of the earth. I thought deeply about how I would go about this task, when I was given the perfect opportunity. Looking back, I do feel bad. I didn't think he would get hurt! I wanted to just prank him a little, make sure he looked down more often.

Instead, he floundered on the ground! A fall like that couldn't bruise me, yet I guess the not-Reform had a weak root system. I me-

He stopped moving! Huh? Is the non-not-reform thing ok? I think it's fine. Maybe a little tougher than I thought. He’s checking the ground is ok? That’s nice of the not-Reform. I do want to test him a little more though. Make sure he learned his lesson. I'll keep watching for a little longer before talking to it. This time though, I’ll trip him closer to the ground, just in case.

Though concerning an event I take part in, happenstance and probability sway the mental plain, the animalistic mind making reality of the imagined predator. While Yuclaus was concerned at the possibility of his splintering mind, there had only been one occurrence so far. To base his whole theory off of a singular event seemed faulty. His panicked mind wanted to jump instinctually to the worst possibility. Uncouth. To make a conclusion for a hypothesis with only a single observation would disgrace the scientific method.

Wisdom, I pray for the fools who turn their back on thine knowledge. Knowledge and understanding. That is what Cause needed: panic overwritten by calm indifference. A botanist studying the growth of a plant, rather than a medic staring at his own fatal wound. Curiosity conquering the easy assumption.

This is all a roundabout way to say that he was going to test this before truly panicking. First, he needed to ensure no other memories were missing. A seemingly impossible task, unless one worked under the assumption that time held no contradictions. Side note, it really is nearly impossible, but I can’t really tell him that.

Yuclaus worked under the theory that if he went through each scene of his mind one by one, no inconsistencies would occur. So he went through each second since he had entered his dream. He subconsciously assumed that only memories made in the dream could be altered by it. This is where he made the very mistake he earlier shunned. A baseless assumption.

He went through his memories and found they flowed into one another like a gentle stream. He even went through the possessions he entered the dream with to check the numbers: 6 energy drinks, 2 orange eyes, one computer, and a Pilot G7. Everything checked outwith what he remembered and what he currently had. He never thought to check how many energy drinks he bought in the store. He never compared the orange to his original eye color. What work was he doing on his laptop? What does a .5 mm diameter pen tip mean? He did not consider searching through the finer details.

Cause failed to question his “safe” knowledge out of fear that his theory could be correct. A small part of him believed it was just a nonsensical dream, as most dreams are. After assuaging his fears, Yuclaus moved to the next step: recreation. If his memories couldn’t be removed again, then there was no issue. He carefully considered how to go about testing his next step safely.

Yuclaus glanced at the cracked stone, looked towards the halved tower, then felt around for his bag. After grabbing his belongings, he fussed with the straps until it opened. That was when his mind caught up with him. His plan was to write a message telling him to break a crystal if he found it. He would then jump off the tower next to his message, and whatever happened would answer some of his questions.

It was still dark out. Not pitch black anymore, his eyes had adjusted. He started to wonder how dream eyes could adjust to dream darkness, but decided to just tuck that unpleasant thought into the darkest corner of his mind. This is where his plan began to fall apart: first, he couldn’t write in the dark, and second, he wouldn’t even know where the paper was in the dark. If he lost his memories again, for all intents and purposes, no paper would exist. Only when the white sun rose into the sky would his broken psyche notice the sheet next to him.

He could attempt to bludgeon himself with his laptop, but that was unappealing for obvious reasons. What if he broke his laptop? It seemed his night of waiting was far from over. After some contemplation about next steps, he decided to continue on with his original plan on the tower, and groped for his BICC lighter. Bringing the lighter and notebook out of his bag, he leafed through the pages, looking for used ones. After tearing out a few sheets, he rolled them up into a makeshift torch.

Yuclaus took the lighter in hand, bringing it closer to the cylinder of paper. That was when terror seized him. Yuclaus couldn’t remember how to use the lighter. He recognized the item in his hand, he knew fire was supposed to come out of the top, but he was unable to start the fire itself.

An item he had used countless times had become a foreign object. It suddenly seem a lot more likely that his injuries caused him to lose at least some part of his memories. Our hero kept his thoughts from being derailed at the implications. Memories needed to be recovered. Looking back, there was only one instance where he was injured: when he was testing if he was asleep.

Relief mixed with an equal measure of foreboding washed over him with this new realization. With great fortune, Yuclaus remembered the general direction and area he started in. It was getting there that posed a problem. It was still dark. He needed light to see in the dark. He was unable to create the light. The only way to remember was to find the memory rocks that were at the scene of his slap-fest. Yuclaus couldn’t find them because it was dark, which brought him back to his original problem. Circular reasoning at its finest.

All beginnings start somewhere, Yuclaus thought. So he took out the lighter, tracing it for a hint of how to bring fire into the world. A depression? He pressed it, nothing happened. A manifestation of pi, yet locked, unspinning. He tried to move the wheel. He vaguely recollected in movies that the wheel was needed to make the spark, the switch to ignite it.

However, no matter what he tried, the wheel refused to budge —stalwart in the face of his struggle. Something was blocking it. A small metal rectangle covering the center of the wheel. This cursed scrap is anathema! Cause pressed hard on the top in frustration. His thumb sunk down, the metal sliding between the edges of the wheel.

His face lit up with joy, and soon after, his surroundings soon joined him. Quickly igniting the paper torch, Yuclaus snuffed the lighter and put it in his bag. He sprinted in the general direction from whence he came while shielding the flame with his other arm as much as possible.

He neared where he first awoke and slowed down. The light flickered. The torch had almost run out of paper to burn. Hastily walking around, Yuclaus searched the area, hoping to glimpse a pebble or stone of some sort. As the fire was about to die, he caught sight of small sparkles just outside the dim light. Running towards them, he got to where he thought a majority were just as darkness claimed it’s domain once again.

Cause knelt down, groping blindly around in the dark for small pebbles. He felt something in his hand. He eagerly squeezed it, and earned a depression in his hand for his effort. Throwing away the very normal pebble, he got back to work. At the fourth pebble, a small pink light lit up his eyes as a trickle of information returned to him.

Encouraged by the knowledge that .5 mm pens were supreme, Yuclaus continued his search. He found only only one additional memory in his search for the stones, before Cause decided to wait for the sun to aid him. Odds were he already kicked one away. A few seconds later Yuclaus thought he heard a creature in the distance. After staying still and waiting for a minute, he went back to his thoughts. A ruin most likely shifted.

Though night’s sweet embrace could grant reprieve from this nightmare, ensuring the validity of mine precious moments is paramount. If he were to fall asleep, Yuclaus guessed he would then wake up back on the bus. With this conclusion, Yuclaus decided to wait until he had collected his fragmented mind before attempting to wake up. Was he certain that if he were to leave his scattered memories, he would recover them when he awoke? That was a risk Yuclaus would not take.

As our main character sat in the dark, he decided to test if he could see anything different with his head. Perhaps he could visualize the manifestation of his memories. Cause closed his eyes, and tried to focus his attention on his mind. No colors or memories greeted him behind his eyelids. He did feel a… lightness though.

This sensation needed to be investigated. It gave off the vibrance of light, yet without any physical brightness. The brightness started from the front of his eyes, which was quite surprising, as they were still closed. It seemed to be flowing from towards the back of his head. He followed the trail, before a lurching sensation pulled the center of his being. Almost as if he was flushed down a toilet. Not a bad analogy if I say so myself.

He found himself standing in a barren stretch of land. The sky was as white as an insane asylum. Fitting. The ground was cracked, spiderwebs separating clumps of equally dry dirt. Almost as if a once luscious forest had withered and died from centuries without rain.

Sparks of light fell all around him, originating from a pink orb far above. None came close to where he was, but rather, seemed to be directed to a specific area. He decided to walk towards the strike-zone of these ephemeral lightning bolts.

Walking was quite an experience. He could still perfectly feel the hard stone beneath where he sat, and a miniscule breeze against his skin. He knew that in reality, he was sitting still. He opened his eyes for a second, greeted by familiar darkness.

Closing them once more, he found himself immediately back to the wasteland. He moved around the dead husks of tree trunks as he followed the lightning. Like a man chasing after a pot of gold under the rainbow, he pressed forward. He saw a deep scar in the earth ahead. A majority of the bolts were falling in its depths.

He shuffled to the edge of the chasm, and peered down the lengths of the rocks. Lining the walls of the depths were countless shining crystals. Countless shining memories.