Rocking Out

The next day dawned bright and early, as days are wont to do. Captain and Cadet struck out in the direction they believed led to the core of Imagination. The only issue with this was that with Reality absent and Imagination holding the reins, direction became entirely meaningless. The boys' compass divided its time between pointing in various directions and being a large, red cat, which, while lazy, had a tail which always pointed what seemed to be true north (if such a thing existed in this realm).

They were following the compuss when a small moss-covered rock rolled across their path. This event would have been no major ordeal, except that the rock promptly cleared its throat and said:

"Excuse me, just where do you two—" at this the compuss mewled indignantly, "—ahem, three, think you're going?" It gave them all a stony stare.

The two humans looked at each other. Captain stepped forward to address the rock. "We're adventurers on our way to find the Power of Imagination."

Hearing Captain speak, the imperious stone rocked with laughter. "Oh ho ho! My, my, we haven't had humans down here—real humans, mind you—in a very, very long time. I thought you were all demons!"

"D-demons?" Cadet looked around nervously.

"Oh my, yes. Wretched things. They infest this whole area. Let's get inside before they decide to realize they're hungry." The rock rolled and tumbled its way over the uneven path and into the surrounding forest. "You know, I used to be so shy. I never get many visitors."

Captain tapped his eye-patch as they made their way through the underbrush."What happened?" he asked absentmindedly.

"I got a little bolder. A little bit of confidence can go a long way, you know."

Complications

The Power of Imagination. Of course, they could already use it; anyone could. That was the problem: too many people were using the Power, tapping it, stretching it thin. If they could find the source of that power, they could cut the people off; they'd have it all to themselves. Sure, it might cause a few complications, but as Captain had said, "So what?"

It wouldn't be too hard, either. Out here at the end of the world*, things couldn't quite figure out how things were supposed to be. They'd already used that to their advantage: while Reality was distracted, paying attention to the panic in the balloon above, the boys had pulled the cords dangling from their belts, and their empty packs had sprung great feathered wings.

Their landing had been a little rough, but really, there wasn't much opportunity to practice.

* Also known by the Scientific Community as God's Gap, the Creator's Crevice, and That Really Big Drop That Makes Us So Much Money.

Panic, and Also Calm

For a moment, the basket was calm. The next moment, however, brought with it the signature panic and terror that the sight of two very small boys plunging headlong into a very large chasm might cause.

"Science help us! Someone, do something!"
"Why? Why did they jump?"
"You! You're the tour guide! Aren't you trained to handle situations like these?"
The guide countered "I, uh. Erp." In reality, yes, the company did train guides how to handle certain dire circumstances, but two children jumping over the edge of the basket willingly wasn't something any human being could train for completely. "I'll, er, call the rescue, uh, team."

* * *

"You okay?"
"That's 'You okay, captain.'"
"Right. Sorry. You okay, Captain?"
"I'll be fine. I got a scrape on my knee but I'll be okay. You alright?"
"Yes, Captain. Where are we, sir?"

The smaller boy surveyed the unfamiliar landscape. "I don't know, cadet. C'mon, we gotta find a good place to camp before it gets too dark." Could it really be here, like all those old books said? Even if it wasn't, at least he would have a daring story to tell his friends.

And if it was, well by gum, he'd find it—the power of Imagination.

Goggles

As the flustered tour guide was thinking to himself that children should not be allowed to come along in the first place, a couple of the little devils sat in one of the back corners, preparing to prove him very right.

One of the boys hoisted a large pack onto his back. He stood up, wobbling a bit under the weight, and started fishing around in his pockets.

"Are you ready?" the other asked. He was a bit smaller, and maybe a bit younger but it was hard to tell. He wore a cheap eye patch over one eye, and occasionally tapped on it while he addressed his companion.

The boy with the pack didn't answer, but a moment later his eyes lit up and he pulled out a small pair of goggles, placing them on his head with a snap of the band. "Yep."

"That's 'yep, captain,'" the smaller boy retorted, playing with the strap of his own pack. "What do you think we'll find out there?"

The boy just grinned, adjusted his goggles, and jumped over the side.

Punching the Timeclock, Part II

The tour guide felt a tug on the hem of his coat. He looked around for the tugger, eventually settling on a small boy of perhaps five or six years. He stood there, waiting politely for his elder to acknowledge him.

"Yes?"

"How come the Creator never came back?"

The tour guide winced. He loved children in that dulled, filial way all humans did...until they started asking these kinds of questions. He gave an official-sounding cough and began the speech he had designated for this exact question: "Well, my young lad, the short answer is... we don't know. Not even Science knows. But the Scientists are working every day to find out the answer to that question, and all the questions we don't have answers to."

The child looked thoughtful for a moment. "Maybe we already know the answer, but we just don't know we know it yet."

The guide bravely mounted an expedition to search for a suitable response to this, but could only muster a furious session of blinking. A man in the back raised his hand to ask a question.

"I'm sorry; all questions will have to wait until the tour is concluded, thank you." (and I'm off the clock and on my way home), he added to himself. "Let's just take that magnificently negligent view in in awed silence, shall we?"

Punching the Timeclock

"This is the end of the world," proclaimed the tour guide.

A guy in the back raised his hand, though not waiting to be called upon, "Er, it's more like an edge, really."

"Uh, yes, I suppose."

"I mean, how do we really know this is the end? Maybe it's just like, a gap."

"A gap?"

"A really big gap. Like, er, really big, I guess?"

"Your powers of expression are astonishing. But Science proclaims that this is where the Creator got really tired of Creating and decided to take a break. Only he never came back."

"Explains a lot, really," the tourist says, peering over the edge of the basket.