Chapter 7: Illuminati Confirmed
He sat down on a tree. It wasn’t really a tree anymore; it
might have been in the past. Now it was more of a bench than anything else—a bench
sung out of the wood, probably, or whatever this edition of Tolkien-esque
beings did in their free time or whatever; it didn’t really matter. All
Johnathan knew was that the moss coveringthe dead tree-thingy that was still
alive was very comfortable, cushining his buttocks and giving him a firm hold
on his seated position.
The elves had welcomed him. After he explained himself, they
had realized something, something which they could not tell him directly, but
through which they dropped hints about his purpose and what he was doing in the
world.
Damn the elves and whoever made them speak in half-truths
all the time. Johnathan knew that if the elves just spoke to each other more
honestly their problems would be solved. Or at least that was what he saw—he saw
that the elves were way overgeneralized, too many moving parts, too many pieces
to put together when dealing with them. They took truth and broke it into tiny
little pieces through which they fed him information. It was good information
but it was still too slow.
“You got the hang of it?” asked the elf-man-dude who had
explained his name to be Alex. Quite a normal name, Johnathan thought. It was
all going according to plan. Whoever was in charge, at least. That person wasn’t
Johnathan. Johnathan knew nothing. He was still somewhat certain that
everything was a hallucination—had he accidentally imbibed some leftover LSD
from his days as a hitchhiker? Probably. That or magic mushrooms. Everything
was too vivid to be real. Every line was crystal clear. Every hair on every
head was visible in its own right. Where was he? Why was he here? These questions
continued to go through his head one after the other—and whenever he asked the
elves for assistance in answering them, he always got the same response:
“Figure it out for yourself.”
Well, fine,
thought Johnathan. I will.
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