You keep saying to me that you didn’t intend for us to get here. You didn’t mean to land us in this kind of place, but rather, you just wanted to push the envelope of discovery. To go somewhere beyond limits, beyond comfort zones. You wanted to see how far you could push us.

You keep saying all this. But in reality, it seems that our world, our life, wasn’t enough for you.

No practical methods could get you where you wanted us to go. You had to use a bit of science, a bit of magic, a bit of listening to the wide-grinned man in the antique shop who sold double-edged swords and questionable mirrors. You used it all. You used what was dangerous. You used what was forbidden.

Me? I was happy where we were. We landed in a small, quaint realm. Not much electricity. It snowed a lot. But it quickly became our realm. We called it Homestead after our children decided to fall in love with it too.

But for you, Homestead wasn’t fancy enough. It wasn’t modern. It wasn’t flashy.

So we revved up the engines of the Bezriham and started traveling again. Because you wanted to keep traveling again.

Don’t get me wrong, when we first traveled, I loved it. But I thought we were under the assumption that there would be a destination. And once we truly found forever in each other, I felt home was the end of the road.

But I was wrong. And at first I was okay with that.

We found a tropical dimension, but you didn’t like the locals. We found a vibrant city dimension, but you said it was too cramped. We found one where bare, green mountain peaks pierced the sky and blue-winged beings welcomed us like family. We even found where it all started, even before Homestead, and I smiled, waiting, begging for the concept of going full-circle to be enough for you. But none of it was.

So now, should we name this place? Please, let’s name it. Upside-Down Land? No, that doesn’t seem right. Dead End? Appropriate, but perhaps too on-the-nose. Maybe we should just name it the UUR-Realm, because that’s what it is. Their scientists and maniacs behind the machines created this place. Somehow, with your constant seeking and searching, we got stuck in a damn experimental realm, where everything is forever floating, forever upside-down. There is no up. There is no down. There is no right. There is no wrong. We only have one mission now. To survive and to stay away from that incinerator that keeps chasing us, like the body fights a virus.

All we can do is pray we survive this.

The blood pools to our hearts every day now. I do my best to feel the artificial gravity suits on the children. But their bodies seem to be rejecting it. They know something is wrong.

All we can do is pray we survive this.

Will this be enough for you? Our world is upside down now. No direction points back to Homestead. Did you push the envelope enough? Did you discover enough?

Is this enough?

We have no compass here. The ground is deteriorating. The molten core of the terrain springs up like rage-fueled fissures.

UUR must be decommissioning the place.

All we can do is pray we survive this.

If we take the kids and put them in the escape pod, have it aimed for where we started, where our parents are, will that be enough? Will that be enough for us to survive this?

Would you even come with us?

Would you come home?