"Before what happened?" Pixel asked, gripping onto his neck tightly—a response to the sudden black fading into the very air.
Before Logan had the chance to open his mouth for a response, color vanished, sizzled, and exploded back out to enshroud the two. This time, to a different scene—one of machinery.
Gray-tiled flooring expanded across from them like the vast wilderness, leaving the two confused for their location.
White walls panned all throughout, only ever getting disrupted by single, metallic doors that led into god-knows-where.
And there was, of course, a countertop standing at the very front, where a receptionist accepted incoming visitors with joy.
Logan's face lit. "Ah, so my mind has brought me here," he said, moving forward towards the receptionist.
"What is it?" Pixel questioned, helping herself up to a standing position, finding balance atop his bouncing shoulder.
