He gets back home, eventually, and takes a shower before anything else.

It helps.

Then he sits at his computer and checks Simmit. His threads have a couple of replies, now, but they are absolutely useless and, also, they sound weird.

They sound weird in the same way those people sound weird.

It occurred to him, on his way back—what if it's not the magic portal or magic doing this at all? What if everyone is like this? Like, everyone in the world?

What if he's the only person in the world who—who can string logical sentences together and, and, and whatever else?

SimTube has videos of people who are not from Glimmerbrook. It has interviews, and people talking about things, and makeup tutorials. Switch.tv has video game streams, including some people playing stuff right now. Those people are live. He can join the chat and talk to them and see how they respond.

He can acquire a mountain of evidence, here, that actually everyone in the world is like that. Except for him.

That's not conclusive enough evidence. Glimmerbrook has a whole world of magic right there, maybe there's some, some weird magical field and actually as soon as he leaves he'll recover all his memories and get back to being a normal person who had a normal history.

He doesn't think that'll happen but he can't help but hope.

He calls a taxi, and asks to be taken to the most metropolitan place he knows. Let's go to San Myshuno.

The driver warns that it's a long ride. Forty-five minutes. Peter says it's fine, and off they go.

He thinks of taking a nap, but decides against being unconscious for any of this process. It'll be a long ride, but he can listen to music on his phone while watching the scenery.

...while watching the scenery fucking skip a frame.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when it happens, but one moment he's looking at the quickly disappearing signs of civilisation and the next they're getting to San Myshuno. And yes, his phone does say that a bit over forty minutes have passed.

Except they haven't.

Aaaaaaaah?

He does his level best to put it out of his mind for the next five minutes and when the taxi driver drops him off at a park he goes to lean against a tree to hyperventilate. Again.

But maybe that's a good sign. Maybe that means he left the field of weirdness of Glimmerbrook.

Except he still doesn't have his memories.

It takes him less time to calm down, now. Gosh, he's getting used to panic attacks, that's nice.

Peter shakes his head, straightens up, and walks over to one of the sunset park goers to... chat.

"Hello! I'm Peter Tarleton," he says to a woman sitting on a bench reading a book.

She looks up, closes her book, and puts it away before saying, "Hi, I'm Sarah Jenkins."

"Nice to meet you, Sarah. Have you ever met a spellcaster?"

"I haven't. I've heard spellcasters live in Glimmerbrook."

"I've heard the same! I actually visited the Realm of Magic."

"Gosh! What's it like?"

"I didn't stay very long because I got spooked by people sounding very strange."

"Oh. That's too bad."

"Yes it is."

...and now he just won't say anything and wait to see what happens next.

Sarah keeps looking at him for nearly half a minute, then grabs her book again and resumes reading.

"Do you like butterflies, Sarah?" he asks suddenly.

She puts her book away again and looks at him once more. "No, I find bugs kind of creepy."

"What book is that that you're reading?"

"It's called How The World Stopped by Peter K. Dark."

"The science fiction author!" How does he know this and not the name of his own mother. "Do you like science fiction?"

"Yes! Do you like science fiction?"

"It depends on the author. Tell me, Sarah: are you a person?"

"I don't know. Are you a person?"

"I'd like to think so! But I'm increasingly convinced that everyone else isn't."