The sun, a vast over-ripe grapefruit in the sky, was setting over the flat, dull expanse of the Wastelands. The wind, a trickster by nature, had somehow concluded that today was the ideal day to cover the world in a thick covering of fine, obstinate, cloying, clogging, gritty dust. The few, brave, and clearly puzzled souls who had congregated here and there peered at one another through the haze, appearing more like forgotten mirages of strange, marmalade coloured wraiths than actual humans.

An odd structure stood away on the horizon, where the heavens kissed the gritty ground. It was tall and imposing, with panels that appeared to flicker with images of worlds beyond worlds, odd and fascinating. They changed slowly, as if unsure whether they were screens, mirrors, or just some high-tech shampoo adverts.

"Nope," Durgle said, tightening his scarf around his face, "I do not like it. Does not make sense. Why build something so big just to confuse people?"

His companion, Philomena Swizzle who was a wizard, of course, but one who didn't particularly go for the whole robes and staffs, wands and pointy hats thing, shrugged. "Oh, this makes sense. This place, the Wastelands don't make sense, thus ‘it’ must make sense. Perfectly logical."

"That's not logical, that's wizard gibber,” Durgle murmured. He scrubbed around, distractedly creating a flurry of dust that only slowly settled. "Anyway, if it’s so logical, what's it for? Answer me that in plain speaking without any wizard rubbish.”

Philomena narrowed her eyes at the swirling images on the structure's panels. "It is obvious what it’s supposed to be. The panels depict what the universe might look like if sneezed upon by a god. But it has a metaphysical effect on the human psyche in that If humans gaze at them for too long, they may begin to doubt things. As if reality is simply a really well-organised joke."

Durgle sighed. "That sounds like a modern artist’s artist statement to me. Total made up load of hooky twonk”

They watched a lone bicycle pass by, barely visible in the dust storm, his silhouette looking both resolute and bewildered at once. Figures moved aimlessly after them, their outlines blurring into the fine dust fog, like half-remembered memories.

Philomena reached into her pocket and took out a scroll. She unrolled it, the paper crinkling.

"Right," she said. "Let's get to it. This here is from the University and it has the answers. Hang on, while I read down past all the salutations and silly men saying how clever they are. . . . .Apparently, it is a portal to . . . . “

"Another world?" Durgle interrupted, sighing preemptively.

"No," Philomena said, "a portal to ‘multiple’ other worlds. They say that each panel leads to a separate location. Sometimes it's a universe of limitless possibility but where politicians can’t exist due to the laws of physics. Sometimes it might be, oh, I don’t know, a cheese-only cosmos, where gravity is optional but manners are not. The choice is yours.

Durgle blinked, his eyes watering from the dust, and rubbed his nose. "How do we know which one's which?"

"We don't."

"Yes, of course. Obviously. Bloody wizards. Really useful things that nobody can possibly use. What happens if we make the wrong choice?"

"Best not to think about it," Philomena replied casually, leaving Durgle with the distinct feeling that something pretty fatal might occur.

Durgle and Philomena sidled casually towards the tall edifice. The dusty ground crunched beneath their boots making casual strolling a bit difficult to hide. The closer they approached, the louder the wind seemed to roar, which was, Durgle found, more than a little bit unnerving.

Finally, they were alongside the panels. Although the noise was like a howling gale, the air was still, eerie, warm.

Philomena grinned. "Right. Which one do we choose first?

Durgle looked at the scroll over Philomena’s shoulder, but could make no sense of the spider-like scribblings. "How about... none of them?"

Philomena clapped him on the back. "Nonsense! "Adventure awaits!"

Durgle rolled his eyes. "You say adventure; I say certain doom. Why not just go and have a nice cup of tea and a slice of Victoria sponge?”

Philomena grabbed him by the wrist and lurched with him into the left hand portal. They disappeared.

The wind howled. Dust swirled. Another cyclist passed.

After all, it was the Wastelands.

Time passed. People started to thin out and go home. And then, just as the soggy grapefruit was setting, an old couple suddenly appeared and tottered out of the right hand portal. Hand in hand they hobbled away.

The old man turned to the woman.

“Now can we have a cup of tea and some Victoria sponge?”

“Yes dear,” she said.