A tall, gaunt figure walks slowly across a rock strewn plain. As far as his eyes can see, there is nothing alive. He is alone in a barren landscape and far from home. A cold breeze ruffles his hair. He shivers, pulls his cloak tightly around his body, and searches for some kind of shelter. In the distance, to the south, is a low hill. He heads for it, lengthening his stride.
He senses he has walked for a long time and, yet, the hill appears to be no closer. He lengthens his stride, further, but makes no progress. Momentarily confused by this seeming violation of the laws of physics, he stops and stares at his desired destination. A heavy, moisture laden cloud is moving towards him. In minutes, it reaches the hill and begins to drape itself slowly over it - rolling down until it touches the plain on all sides.
Visually cut off from his goal, he is unsure what to do next. The breeze strengthens. His shivering intensifies. He begins walking towards the hill, again, just to keep warm.
The pale mauve sky darkens.
He stops walking and looks up, frowning. Is night coming, or is the storm worsening? He has no way of knowing.
His name is, Toka Slesvenger, and the last thing he remembers is, that he was strolling along a narrow beach, between an ocean, to the west, and a line of tall cliffs, to the east, listening to the birds calling as they swooped to catch a fish. Although it was a cold day, several people had been gathered in a group, laughing and relaxing in the autumn sunshine. A large, odd-looking rock had caught his eye. He had veered from his path and headed towards it. It seemed to be out of focus - as if it was shimmering with heat. As he had drawn near, he had studied it, carefully, noticing that every grain of sand around it was in clear focus, and yet the rock still looked fuzzy. He had bent to pick it up and had noticed that the rock was not in contact with the surrounding sand. Somehow, it was isolated from the beach in a way he could not explain. Further examination had revealed to him that the rock wasn't even sitting on the beach. Beneath it was blackness, as if it was floating in a void!
Against his better judgment, he had tried to pick the rock up. Quite unexpectedly, it had felt cold. As his fingertips touched it, it had spun slowly, in a clockwise direction, about an invisible longitudinal axis, and…
He is in a rock strewn plain, beneath a pale mauve sky, walking towards a distant, cloud-draped hill.
In desperation, as he walks, he begins to caste around, searching for another 'vibrating' rock. It seems the logical thing to do!
When he looks up, he sees he is close to the hill. He walks to his right, passing the hill on his left. As he walks further, he can see that this side of the hill has been eroded into a vertical cliff. To his right, the plain slopes downward into a deep depression, stretching away from him to the west. He stops and stands with his back to the cliff face. The depression is so large it reaches all the way to the north and southern horizons!
Close by, he sees a strange looking rock. He runs to it and bends over it. Beneath it is blackness, as if it is floating in a void. He closes his eyes and reaches out to touch it. It feels cold. He nudges it, causing it to rotate in a clockwise direction. He opens his eyes, hoping to see the people laughing and relaxing in the sunshine, to hear the birds calling as they swoop to catch a fish. But he is still there, with the cliff face to his left, and the depression to his right.
It begins to rain. Not the kind of rain he's used to, but a remorseless fusilade of fast moving, hard hitting missiles. Lightning forks and booms all around him. He gets to his feet and searches the cliff face, hoping to find some kind of protection; but the best he can locate is a small fissure that permits only part of his body to fit. He stands, wedged in the narrow gap, while rivulets of run-off water from above run down his back.
As quickly as it has started, the storm abates, the wind stops blowing, and a pale sun is revealed by the clouds as they move off to the north. He takes a drink from a puddle and stares at the western horizon for several minutes. His mind churnes! The answer to his predicament - whatever his predicament is - has to be the strange rock. After all, it had brought him to this place - wherever that might be. He returns to it and studies it for a long time. Then, because he can think of nothing else to do, he places two fingers on it, this time, and pushes it in a counter-clockwise direction.
"Look out!" a child's voice warns.
The ball hits him full in the face.
Toka Slesvenger bends and picks up the ball. He hands it back to the child with a broad smile. Out to sea, he can hear the birds calling as they swoop to catch fish.
