And this is definitely not Callisto anymore. He can tell by the way he's on soft grass and surrounded by trees, a lake several feet behind him. Or the exploding stars decorating the night sky above. Or the building over there, which looks nothing like any buildings he's seen. It's... probably what a pub on Earth was like, some time ago.

While he rests on his back, staring up, the world around Meteor slowly reassembles itself. His dreamlike surroundings take on a sort of hazy halo in his probably-damaged head. Ten feet to his left, the Atmocraft he'd stolen is so much scrap, laying still where it had crashed. Nothing behind it but trees and grass. No Garage. No city, no pursuers, no Baldash. To his right, the odd historical building. Meteor had seen neither grass, trees, nor stars with his own eyes ever before, but he'd seen them in virtualities. He'd never seen them personally because the urbanization of the Sol system had destroyed them epochs ago. He can't be where he is. It isn't possible.

Meteor resists the urge to panic, forces himself to think. First: body check. Try to get up. See if I'm all... He wiggles a toe, a foot, one leg, the other. An finger, a wrist, an arm. His right fist still grips his notebook. He tests muscles in his face, then in his neck. Everything seems more or less functional, though several places punish him for the slightest disturbance. He thinks.

Assess: Been in an accident. Having multi-sensory experiences of things that I know cannot be real. Probably broken some ribs. Might have internal... 

Theories:  #1. Dead, and there's an afterlife, and this is....

#2. Severe brain damage, I'm dying, and these are hallucinations. Impressive that I can hallucinate something I've never experienced with such...

#3. Clinically bodydead, and my brain is being used for some secret scientific experiment in virtual...

#4. Insane, I've been insane for an indeterminate amount of time, and I cannot trust my own conceptions of what is and is not, or what is and is not possible...

#5. Fucked up killing Baldash. Baldash caught up with me, and this is all him, somehow... 

#6. Landed in some hidden garden that's been cultivating plants for lifetimes of stars...

None of these theories seem plausible or pleasant. Still, in at least half of these theories he probably needs medical attention one way or another, and that pub is the only sign of civilization. His body burned and ached in protest, but gradually, gently, Meteor rises to his feet. He double checks his hand for his notebook. He double checks over his shoulder for Baldash. It's about 100 yards to the building, and every step is a new lesson in pain. 

When Meteor finally reaches the door, he pauses. Laughs at himself for considering knocking, and then scolds himself for laughing, which only sets of the burning in his ribs again. He shoves the door open with his shoulder, and promptly collapses on the floor.

He will promptly find himself being levitated by a girl in a frilly colourful dress.

He seems to be in a bar. It's clean and nice and quaint, and there are patrons of all species and ages, or at least that's what it looks like, there's so much variety. There's a fireplace over there, with sofas around it and some people sitting there chatting. The windows show more of the exploding stars he saw outside, and the bar's unmanned but somehow people seem to have food and drinks. In fact, just as he's watching someone has a plate of something very foreign appear mysteriously in front of them. Some people look at him but they seem to assume the girl in the dress can handle it, as she starts taking him towards a door near the back.

Floating. No way does a secret historical garden pub have a Zero-G engine. I'm insane, or I'm dead/dying, or I'm virtual. This isn't real. 

Together with the revelation comes a rush of relief. Baldash and his crew almost certainly can't follow Meteor into un-reality. Meteor's debts and responsibilities are over. His brother Balduris can go on living without him. Meteor lets his eyes shut and laughs. It hurts, but he no longer cares. Might as well enjoy whatever this is, right?

Tears fall off Meteor's pale face in streams. He giggles at his own floating purple hair.

He even starts to sing.

"They invented a reason
That's why it stings
They don't think you matter
Because you don't have pretty rings
I keep telling you I don't care
I keep saying there's one thing they can't change

I'm your moon
You're my moon
We go round and round
From out here, it's the rest of the world that looks so small
Promise me
You will always remember who you are

Let them shuffle the numbers
Watch them come and go
We're the ones who are out here
Out past the edge of what they know
We can only be who we are
It doesn't matter if they don't understand

I'm your moon
You're my moon
We go round and round
From out here, it's the rest of the world that looks so small..."

While he sings he witnesses the most wonderous things. People and foods and objects of every conceivable kind, and many not conceivable. He observes with some delight an exquisitely carved wooden end-table as he passes, engraved with images monkeys swinging on vines and trees. Beyond it, a vast window showcasing the night sky, full of stars sparkling and popping like campaign. He idly wonders if that's what stars really looked like. They certainly seem more... active than he remembers seeing in the virtualities.

As they pass through a door, Meteor laughs again and comments to the girl in the pretty dress, who seems to somehow be the source of his current position above the floor, "Certainly the most pleasant hallucination slash psychotic break slash virtual world I've ever experienced! Say, do you know if I'm dead or insane? I suppose it doesn't really matter, but I'm curious..."

She tilts her head. "Neither, this is just Milliways," she explains as if that explained everything. She sets him on a comfortable bed in a medium-sized room and asks, "Have you broken anything? Where does it hurt? And do you have any chronic diseases or old injuries you'd like me to fix?"

"Hahaha~! Miliways, of course. Serves me right for asking the delusions to explain themselves. Well, pretty image, I believe I've just been in an Atmocraft accident. I'm pretty sure I have broken ribs, and basically everywhere hurts. As for chronic, no. I never had anything the docs couldn't cure. If I am insane, though, please don't cure that. I rather prefer this to my previous mental state, you see. Don't know how a delusion would cure its source anyhow, but I suppose it's not my place to judge..." He rambles, mostly to himself, whole-heatedly amused and delighted by this entire situation.

"This isn't a hallucination," she explains patiently as she lays her hands on him and starts working—whatever magic she's doing. Her hands are warm, and the warmth spreads through his body and starts mending his injuries. "It's a magical bar at the end of the universe. It probably stole a door from your world, which is paused until you return. You can ask Bar for a better explanation, she'll tell you stuff."

Meteor scoffs, condescends, "You're sweet for trying, pretty image, but the likelihood of magic suddenly being real is a lot lower than the likelihood that I'm experiencing some form of un-reality. But don't worry! I'm happy to play along. Which one of you is Bar?" 

"Bar is the bar, she's outside in the main room—and I'm done. I think they might have someone for mental health if you need it but otherwise you should probably just enjoy. Oh, to talk to Bar you just tell or ask her stuff and she'll reply with napkins." The girl stands up and dusts herself.

"Haha! Napkins of course. Thank you very much for healing me, image. I feel much better."

Meteor stands up also, and follows the girl back out to the front area. He sits down on a stool a little away from the other denizens. No one seems to be manning the counter, which strikes him as a little odd, even for a delusion. He shrugs, and talks at the counter-top.

"Hi, Bar. I'm Meteor! The girl who healed me said you stole the Garage door I crashed through. Thank you for that, I suppose. I..." His voice trails off, and his cheery demeanor flows into sadness. "...it was the end of the line for me back there, one way or another. This is a lovely death, so.... thank you."

A napkin appears with stuff written on it: I would say you're welcome but that'd be misleading—you're not dead and I'm not in charge of the door.

Meteor puts his smile back on, but this time it hangs crooked. "Right, right. Not dead. Sorry, I forgot you seem touchy on the subject of your reality. I won't bring it up again, I promise. Anyway. If you're not the one who brought me here, who did? ...Also, is there anything I need to do in order to stay here? I'm not keen on going back to... um, where I was." 

Whoever is in charge of the door has not seen fit to inform me. You can rent a room for locally appropriate rent prices, and obtain food, drinks, or other nonmagical nonliving things you might want similarly. The first drink is free.

Meteor blinks. He wasn't expecting his delusions to require monetary compensation. "Don't have any money. I was a captive held for ransom for... several months or so, before I arrived here... The ruined Atmocraft in the wood outside is yours, if it's worth anything to you...?"  

I can purchase it from you, yes. If you have a bank account or some other remotely accessible money storage I can magically withdraw funds from there. If you open the door you should have access to your world and be able to ask for someone to retrieve money for you.

Meteor briefly considers whether this might be some elaborate scam to get his finance ID, but decides that the likelihood is down with magic being real. "Whatever you say, counter-top! My finance ID is #J1986-0987-18. Um, but the door I came through isn't there anymore, if that matters. Nothing but open sky and... trees. Out there."

You can use the door to return to your world, although the location it will open to is not consistent enough in cases like this. Do you still wish to sell your Atmocraft?

"Sure, go ahead and buy it, Bar. I'll have that first drink too, please...." Meteor take the moment to relax and collect himself. He looks around at all the impossible things around him. Everything, from the people to the furniture, everything is beautiful. Clean, colorful, and surprisingly laid back. Maybe I've been a good boy and this is Heaven. You'd think Heaven would own up to it, though... 

Well not everything is beautiful. There's a patron that looks like the cross between a frog and a naked mole rat, and some more variations besides.

I have deposited an appropriate sum in your account. Do you have something in mind for your drink or would you prefer me to suggest something?

Meteor giggles again. "I am fascinated with the idea of a counter-top giving drink suggestions. Hit me with your best shot, Bar."

So a fizzy green drink with a lime and a purple umbrella on top appears in front of him.

It is the most delicious thing he has ever tasted in his life.

Meteor sips. Blinks, and then chugs it down like a starving baby on his mama's tit. He puts the glass down and breathes again. "Most delicious thing I have ever tasted in my life! What do you call that?"

She gives him the name of something he has never heard of with completely imaginary or made up ingredients. Or, well, possibly alien ones.

The drink information Bar provides goes completely over Meteor's head. He concludes that it is made out of crazy-virtual-afterlife-magic. 

He notices the girl in the pretty dress, and it occurs to him that he might have been a little rude to her before, what with denying her existence and all. He wonders if delusions ever feel bad about being delusions, or desire the same rights and respect as Real Things.

"Hey Bar, I'm going to go over and talk to that girl. Watch my drink, won't you?"

He gets up and walks over, marveling at everything in eyeshot while he walks. (Yes, even the frog-molerat-thing.) He finds her sitting on one of the couches. "Um, hi. I'm sorry about how I acted earlier. You were very kind to me, and I-- well I must have sounded pretty crazy! Oh, ah, I'm Meteor. May I ask your name?" He blushes, knowing how silly he sounds, and knowing how silly it is to worry about how he sounds to un-real people.

"I'm Mary," she introduces, smiling, and scoots over to the side to give him space. "And you don't need to thank me, it's my job. Well, part-time. Whatever that means when my world is paused. Is this your first time in Milliways?"

He smiles back and sits down in the space she's offered. "Yeah, this is my first time in Miliways. I lived on Callisto before, if you can call it living. What planet are you from? From your clothes I'd peg you as a Venusian-skyliner but you sound like you're from my side of the asteroids." 

Blink. "I'm from Earth. Are you from the future? Or just another world with an Earth in it? I hear they're pretty common."

Blink. "Earth? No possibl-- wait, the future? What do you mean 'world with an Earth in it'? Is Earth not a planet where you're from? I'm sorry, I don't really have any clue what's supposed to be happening here. Um, Earth is a planet where I'm from but no one as, well, clean and pretty as you would be from there. My Earth is pretty used up and gross. Smoke and poison everywhere. No animals or plants that weren't made in a lab. Everyone's sick. No one lives there who can afford to live anywhere else. It's kinda in the middle of a mass evacuation...  I guess... I could be from the future or something? Let's hope not, or else your future will really suck, haha!" He laughs nervously, keenly aware of how crazy he sounds.

"By 'world' I mean, you know, universe, dimension, plane of existence, something like that. There's lots of those, and the planet Earth happens in a large part of them, but not all. Humans are usually from there but they also come from other kinds of worlds. Do you know if your world has magical girls and witches...?"

Some kind of multiverse. He notes. Alright, I can work with that. 

"As far as anyone knows, magic isn't a thing where I'm from. And my, uh, world, is really extremely old, so I don't think a secret of that kind could have stayed hidden. I suppose you're probably in the clear, hooray!" He smiles, genuinely pleased in spite of himself. "Are you, um, a witch, then? Did you use magic to heal me?" 

"I did use magic but I'm not a witch, I'm a magical girl. Witches are these weird scary space-distortion monsters only people with magic or people who could have magic can see, and that's only girls."

"Huh, you know, that's really cool! We don't have anything like that in my world." He can feel himself becoming engaged with the crazy mythos of this place. "What kind of magic can you do? Is there a magic for boys too, or do girls get to have all the fun?"

"Well other worlds must have magic for boys, too, and I guess the Kyubey's a boy but other than him it's only girls. The main thing we do is fight witches, it's what we're for, if we didn't exist they'd kill and eat everyone, so every magical girl has fighting magic, but we also have minor things like telekinesis and healing—my telekinesis is better than most because of my wish—"

Meteor tilts his head and flashes a friendly smile. "Wish? What do you mean?" 

"Oh, the way magical girls get their magic is that the Kyubey—it's this small cute furry magical animal—finds girls with the potential and offers them a wish, and then in exchange for that wish they become magical girls and have to fight witches. And they usually get powers related to that wish—for instance, I was trapped in rubble after my building collapsed, so I wished for a way to get that off me and got enhanced telekinesis in addition to my other stuff."

"Huh, what a neat concept!" Meteor picks up his notebook and pulls a ballpoint pen out of the binding. He clicks the pen, then pauses, catching himself.  "Do you mind if I write that down in my notebook? I write down all kinds of ideas here and someday I'm going to write a book. Or, I guess, I was going to... before I-- before I found myself here."

"Sure. And, you know you can still go back through the door, right? You aren't dead, you can write whatever you like. Could even write it here while time's paused and then go back and publish your book there."

"But I--! Mary, even if that's true-- I arrived here by accident, you see, I was being chased by... by some very bad, very powerful people, who wanted-- want to kill me. If I go back, they'll find me for sure. I can't go back. I don't want to go back... when I asked you not to cure me of insanity... that's what I was trying to say-- Even if this place isn't real, it's better than where I was."

"Well, it is real, and there's a lot of magic here, and time's paused. I bet you could get some people or magic to help you with them."

Meteor grows quiet, considering Mary's proposal.  He writes while he thinks. After a moment, he sets down his book and looks Mary in the eye."...Ok, let's say this place is real. Magic is real, the multiverse is a thing that can be traversed, and I'm one lucky sonuvabitcoin, because time is somehow stopped and I have all the time in the world to plan and prepare. Even if all that's true, who would risk their lives for a stranger? For all you people know, I did something horrible and I deserve to be killed..." His voice trails off again.

"Sure, but time being stopped means you have all the time in the world to find someone who would, and even if that's, like, zero point zero one percent of people you'll eventually find them." Pause. "Unless the landlords don't want you to, I guess."

Meteor tried to imagine a world in which one in ten-thousand would be willing to commit a potentially-fatal act of charity. He couldn't picture it. "You must come from an exceedingly nice world, Mary. In my world, there's no one like that at all. We've got a saying, 'Everything's got a price tag or a body bag.' ...wait, who are the landlords? Could I talk to them?"

"No one can talk to them, we're not sure they exist. And, uh, I mean, how many people are there in your world? Mine has like seven billion."

Meteor chuckles. "Well, my world is... So you have an Earth, right? I assume it's a planet? It orbits around a star? Including my Earth, my star has eight such planets, and they're all inhabited to one degree or another, along with most of the moons, and all kinds of space stations. 7 billion is maybe a big town or a small city where I come from. We estimate that there are something like 2.6 septiliion humans in the Sol system, but we can't be sure. My moon, Callisto, had 2 billion people living on it, and it was considered a very small town..." 

"Yeah, same solar system I think... and you really think people wouldn't help you? Like at all? Are you sure you're not just from a really bad neighborhood?"

"I guess it does kind of sound absurd, doesn't it? But that's really how it is, where I'm from. You have your family, your contacts, and your employer, who might be willing to help you with something if you offer them something of equal value. Everyone else expects profit from even telling you the time of day. It sounds harsh, but when you have that many people who all need energy, you can't afford to trust." Meteor leans back, musing, "It goes deep, too. We teach our children from an early age to demand trade from each other, and aim for profit. I remember being praised by the teacher when I sold my eraser to a girl for her lunch ticket. Offering someone charity in my world would probably be seen as either a mockery or an attack, honestly..." 

"...well other worlds aren't really like that and there's lots of them, you could probably still find nice people. And, uh, maybe some people nice enough to want to fix that because wow your world sounds bad."

Meteor tilts his head, confused. "Fix what?"

"The thing where no one helps anyone else—like, sure, I got a wish out of it and managed to not die crushed by rubble but I'd totally have wanted to be a magical girl to save people from monsters anyway."

"Wait, you're saying-- fix the philosophy of 2.6 septillion people? Now that would be some magic, hahaha!"

"Okay yeah I guess that'd be hard. It's just—sad."

Meteor grows quiet, looks down at his notebook. "Yeah... I suppose it is...." 

"You know, my brother gave me this notebook. A gift, no strings attached. He's always doing things like that-- a nice person. Like you. Gets himself in trouble all the time because of it. I always thought he was nuts. Never occurred to me that he might be the sane one, in a system full of crazies..."

"I dunno who's crazy or what. I just know that helping people is nice and good and more people should do it, and I'm glad I do it."

"Hell, my ribs and I are sure glad you do it too! You helpful people are pretty great. Maybe I should give the whole 'nice' thing a try too, huh? Not sure how I'd start, though. I have a bad habit of causing more trouble than I fix, most times."  

"I'm not sure. I'm actually paid for this job here in Milliways—I'm on a break now, there's probably someone else at the infirmary, but when I decide to go back enough time will have passed there that it'll be my shift again. Milliways is helpful like that."

"How did you get your job here? Maybe I can help around here too? I don't have any medical skill, but..."

"Well no one really knows who or what picks who gets doors or when or anything like that, but I learned about stuff here and asked Bar about job opportunities and she told me about this one. I never really know when I'm going to get a door, after I leave Milliways, but this is like my seventh time."

"I see. In that case, I'll also go ask Bar about working here right away. Thank you for chatting with me, Mary. And, thanks again for patching me up, even if it was your job and all. You're... very nice."

Meteor gets up and walks back over to Bar. He sits down in his old spot, in front of his drink. "Hey Bar. Mary says that sometimes you have job openings. Is there anything I could do for you?"

The main jobs here are security and infirmary. Which one do you think you'd be most suited for? You will never encounter a situation your skills are not sufficient to handle but you'll be paid according to them.

"Umm, Counter-Top, I don't know if you can see me, but I'm, ah, rather obviously not well suited for security work. And I don't have any medical skill. If you need someone to clean, or maybe write for a local newspaper? I'm also good with computers, I could work as a sysadmin or tech support... do you have computers here, or is everything magic?"

I would not say I can see you, but your physical prowess need not be the sole thing you would use; you could conceivably have resources I cannot perceive. Unfortunately those other positions aren't available—everything here is magically cleaned, and there's no such thing as a local newspaper when time doesn't pass at consistent rates between different rooms. Some rooms and people have computers, but nothing that's officially a part of this establishment.

Heh, and I thought robots were bad for the job market... Magic isn't perfect, I guess.

Meteor sighs and returns to his drink. This is all a lot to take in, and now that he's here, he's not sure what to do with himself. He takes a swig of that fizzy green stuff, and it's just as delicious as he remembers. He opens up his notebook and sketches an image of the bar area while he thinks.

Someone takes a seat next to him. "What an interesting place."

Normally Meteor would never speak to a stranger out of the blue, but the weirdness of this place is starting to warp his habits. He glances over at the girl next to him and smiles. "Heh, yeah it is... Is this your first time here, too?" 

"Oh you can bet it is." She looks around and laughs a little disbelievingly. "This is insane."

Meteor joins in her incredulous cheer, "Haha, oh thank god, I'm not the only one who thinks this is crazy! The people here are all so calm about their surprise magical tavern, it's freaking me out." 

"They've probably found interdimensional bars more often than we have."

Meteor's expression grows large with comical mock-alarm, "You mean there are more of these places than just Miliways?! Oh gods, I don't know if I can handle that. One physics-defying diner is enough for me, thank you!"

"I'm Meteor, by the way. What's your name?" 

"I'm Meinn. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Meteor regards her for a moment. Is the multiverse somehow densely populated with beautiful women, or does Miliways invite them disproportionately often? "Pleasure's all mine, Meinn. So, where are you from?"

"I'm not so sure the answer will be informative but for what it's worth I'm from a fairly wealthy family that lives in a fairly wealthy town in the kingdom of Laokab on a planet called Galatea."

"Ha, you're right, that doesn't mean much to me. I'm from Callisto, a small moon orbiting the plant Jupiter. I'm neither wealthy nor the subject of a kingdom, Callisto's government is a bureaucracy. Does your world have magic? Mary over there says that in her world, girls get granted wishes that give them magical abilities." 

"My world does have magic and it's not gendered, but it's pretty rare. Only one out of a few hundred people get it, more or less. No wishes involved."

Meteor nods, "My world has no magic at all. I'm fascinated by all the strange new things I'm learning. Do you mind if I take notes?" He waves his notebook a little to illustrate, "I'd love to hear all about your world."

"Sure, but I'm not sure I paid much attention to my history lessons so what I know's a bit patchy."

"Oh don't worry about that. I'm sure I can fill in the blanks with something interesting..." He clicks his pen and holds it at the ready.

"—I don't know where to start. You should probably ask questions."

"Well, let's see... How does your king keep wealthy corporations from usurping his power? Does he use your magic to maintain control?"

"Usurping his power? Gods, no, anyone who tried would be executed, that'd be blasphemy."

"Blasphemy? As in... religion? Do your people believe the king is some kind of god, then?" 

"The ruler's chosen by the gods—not always a king, sometimes it's a queen. They always have magic, you can't rule if you don't have magic, and so the gods pick who has magic and who can rule."

"Fascinating! And, what can your religion-magic do?"

"There's three kinds: arcanism, enchanting, and elementalism. Arcanists can make and use spells, which have various temporary effects. Enchanters can create magical artefacts that do various things. Elementalists can use blessings on themselves—only one at a time—that give them temporary personal magic, like flight or telepathy or telekinesis."

"And what about you, Meinn? Are you one of the lucky magical people? Could you rule?"

"Alas, I am not. Completely magicless, here. Well, I have a couple of artefacts in my bag, but I didn't make them. Also I'm not from any royal lines so even if I did have magic that wouldn't help."

Meteor frowns, realizing that what he's written is completely wrong. He decides to put away his notebook for now. "Thank you for letting me interview you, Meinn. This will make a great book some day! Can I buy you a drink, as payment for the information?"

"Thank you for the offer but I think you severely underestimate how wealthy I am. I could buy you a drink, though."

"I-- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. You can buy me a drink, if you'd like."

"You didn't offend me, I'm really hard to offend. I'm also really, really, really rich, and you're cute so I think if anyone's doing the flirting here it's me." She looks vaguely Bar-wards. "Please get my friend here something you find appropriate for this occasion? On my tab."

A cold, steaming, red drink with a tiny storm cloud floating above it appears in front of Meteor.

Meteor stares for a moment at the drink and wonders what kind of occasion Bar thinks this is. He takes a sip: strong spices, chocolate, and apple. He sets it back down and stares a moment longer.

In complete earnest, he observes, "...I think Bar might be a pervert." 

I am not a pervert, merely very good at drink suggestions.

Meinn reads this and laughs.