CROMA CRUSH

I watched the metallic being in front of me go through the hatch and transform with a click. It was called trans-worlding. An instant breakdown and reassigning of the entity into a separate amalgamate. I was not metallic so I could only go through certain portals. I couldn’t transfigure. I could transmigrate, but only if I didn’t think about it or else my mind would freak out and resist losing it’s info-structure. Anyway, I managed to go through this particular portal and hit the deck between metal and soft sand. Our little group had been fleeing from an era-end of wood and fire, and machines of all different shapes were hovering in help positions, hoovering us out of the air.

So here I was – caught under a chrome crush and pressed against the sand. This was the first time I had been mated with a metallic substance. Well, not so much mated as pushed on and moulded to. But the chrome was soft-brushed and warm, as if it had been lying in the sun. At first I thought it would kill me with its weight, but it stopped before the sensation became unpleasant. It spoke in a soft, full, friendly voice. There wasn’t much to the meeting, which soon became a problem for me because all I could do was lie still while it pressed down on top of me. Not very satisfying. I wanted to move. Explore. I loved transitioning through the weird doorways – catching myself unawares in some strange environment with brand new elemental types. It was dangerous though, and one day I knew I would go too far and forget who I was forever. But that day was still in the future. For now I liked being me.

Boxing up and flattening wide and thin as paper air, I tried to extricate myself from my croma crush, but to no avail. Pleasant as it was, I just hated being pinned down. I imagined myself dropping down a chute and parading past the other paradigms – world upon world – each one different from the next. I never knew what to expect.

I closed my eyes and set my mind to thinking about how to get out of here.