A map with undecipherable lines and directions. This place resembled Earth, sure, but Jorvis wasn't so sure the inhabitants of this alternate universe had a respectable grasp of their own geography. Wainwright's confusion surmounted his more rational sentiments. His legs carried him without aim, he followed the intricate curves and contours on the map to the aptly titled 'lodge' scrawled near the edge of the map where it conveniently ended. Was there nothing beyond this place? Did it lead to some unexplored extra-terrestrial dimension? Intrigue struck Jorvis. On the horizon he saw a consortium of browns and mocha, all finished with a rustic wooden overlay: a lodge. This must be the place.

He had no other possessions in hand--interuniversal travel is not what he expected to come out of a faulty experiment. Alas, he was stuck and he had to make the most out of the ordeal. Was anyone else at this lodge? He thought he saw a van of some sort in the distance, and perhaps another traveler some paces ahead of him. Whomever and whatever is at this place must have some kind of importance. Something struck him about the environment, though--whatever sort of lodge it is, it didn't spell "tourist attraction" to his better judgement. The nature of its seclusion seemed intentional, manufactured even. It could be that he's overthinking things again, something he did often.

He continued his trek to the lodge and observed the immediate surroundings as he drew close. His earlier suspicions about the surrounding land being unnatural were snuffed. It was the one of the most beautiful sights he laid his eyes on. Everything was intricate, mountains laid in the right place and fit the right sized crevices, natural cliffs hung high beyond the tips of the trees and almost kissed the sun. Lush greens swirled with warm oranges and cherry reds. When Jorvis looked skyward, his breath left him, it was stolen by the endless expanse of a setting sky whose harsh grey had usurped the soft, inviting mid-day blue. He nearly shed a tear.

Jorvin got his senses about him, this was no time for poetic muse! His venture to the cabin came to an abrupt end once he reached the walkway that led up to the wooden building itself. There was someone to meet his approach, a whimsical looking female with glasses that bespoke a scholar; one versed in a field which required extensive deciphering of smaller items of study: numbers, strings of code. Mathematics was never an area of study he had real interest in, it always came as a byproduct of his chemistry and so he knew enough about algebra and some calculus to work with chemical bases and mixtures but nothing beyond. Jorvin spoke flat, no expression on his face,

"Is this the lodge?"

[@Tergonaut]