Today, Great Water leads me out of the stable.

I turn my head as I enter the doorway, taking one final look at where I slept, ate and learned for so long. I wish the horses would notice my absence, but they are contented with their straw, blissfully unaware of any change. A part of me is saddened by this, though I doubt I shall ever be able to know why.

The interior is entirely smooth and white on each of its four sides. Another door stands some five paces in front of me, though it is raised slightly above the floor. I step towards it.

I am not to go further. This "room" has been altered to ease my transition. There are only the bare essentials. First, I must start with the objects I know.

I turn my head and see three hooks besides the doorway I just entered. I have never seen hooks attached to a wall before, but their crooked metal is entirely unmistakable. On each hook rests a singular object. I am to point to each object in its turn.

First, I point to the bucket, hanging in the centre.

Then, there is brush, closest to the door.

Finally, I gesture towards the broom at the other end.

With this done, I need to learn something new, something that couldn't have been shown to me when I was in the stable. Great Water will demonstrate.

Without the slightest hesitation, she walks calmly towards to the door and as she approaches it, she begins rising in the air in large increments until her feet are level with the doorframe after only a few steps. She then spins and strides back to me, returning to her former height.

I am to walk three paces forward and stop.

Great Water follows and bends herself at the waist to point at something in front of me.

I look past her finger but see nothing.

Great Water removes a metallic orb from her pant's pocket and makes the sound, "lux". The orb emits a burst of sheer light that blinds in an instant. The entire world glows yellow for five seconds before fading to a sombre black.

Sorry, I forgot to aim it correctly.

I open my eyes and see a narrow beam illuminating the area in front of me. Great Water twists the orb slightly and the light becomes more intense. The effect is subtle, but there are intermittent shadows which seem to fall without pattern or purpose.

Can I see it?

The floor isn't flat.

Exactly.

Then it can't be a floor.

They're "stairs". They're used to provide a link between places of different elevations. It will be impossible for me to move throughout the interior if I don't learn how to use them. I must try walking forward and let my feet feel the "steps". Great Water will hold my hand so I keep my balance.

I tentatively move my right foot forward until it strikes the edge of the first "step". Then, I slide my toe along its face until I feel my foot touch its top. Then I press myself unto this new surface and feel my body slowly rise ever so gracefully into the air. I try to put my left foot unto the step but I flail, unable to find it. I feel my balance slipping away from me and twirl my arms, unlatching myself from Great Water in the panic, and I fall to the floor.

Great Water extends her hands and pulls me to my feet. I repeat the process, but focus more attention on the left foot this time and manage to climb the first step. I nearly tumble trying to find the second, but Great Water steadies me, and by the time I reach the third, the door is directly in front of me.

I am to open it.

Mounds of clothing are strewn across this new room, heaped in a group of baskets of varying sizes. Two glass circles are stacked on top of each other in the wall, and I can see wet clothes items resting in the top one. The floor is lined with soft wood that feels smooth against my feet. It doesn't have the odour of a broken, dying tree as much of the stable had. Instead, I can smell mothing at all except for the river, inexplicably. The air seems fresher, but there is no breeze moving through my lungs.

This is a room for doing "laundry". I will learn about this soon. After all, I can't be expected to do all the work myself. Anyway, it's time I saw my room. I am to follow Great Water there.

The room of laundry has four doors, including the one from which I had entered. Great Water leads me through one of these into an elongated, oddly shaped room with only one door on each of its short sides, and five on each of its longer ones. The floor is made of the same material as the previous rooms, but its walls are not the same pure, unspeckled white. They are instead the brown of the clay that lay beneath the riverbank's sand. Between each door on the long sides, a patch of discoloured yellow and white reaches up into a distorted triangle.

There were drawings there. "Paintings", really, but I didn't want to distract me. Great Water didn't want to distract me. I will see them in time. I will see everything soon enough. For now, I must leave the "hallway". My door is the last on the left.

I walk towards it and wait beside the door patiently, but Great Water doesn't open it.

It is my room. I must enter myself.

Curious and just a little frightened, I place my hand on the brassy doorknob and pull it towards me. The door opens, and I step inside.

There is only one object in this room: a large rectangular box pressed up against the far corner. The box is covered with cloth, but the front seems to be made of a wood, similar to that which lines the floor. The walls are white, but not as singularly as the room of laundry. There are also a myriad discolorations all around me and a half sphere above releasing hot, yellow light.

The room has an unmistakable odour, like that of the dead. Freshly dead, though; I can't smell any rot. The air is just...stagnant. Nothing has moved in this room for a very long time.

The box in the corner is a "bed". The rest of the day will be spent learning how to use it. Then, I shall sleep in this room tonight, and tomorrow I shall eat my first meal inside.

And no, I will not be eating grass.

∞

Great Water plops two white circles unto my plate with orange lumps spread unattractively throughout their frame.

Normally, these "eggs" would be served with runny "yolks", but it would be foolish to take that sort of risk right now. Instead, they've been singed to the point of sterilization, to give me a taste but not cause my digestive tract to shatter.

Although able to handle my utensils, I have never had any experience using them on food before (assuming these "eggs" are food), and I watch Great Water for instruction first. She sees me looking at her and overemphasizes each action, holding the egg in place with the fork, cutting it with the knife and scooping the fleshy morsel into her mouth. Not without some reticence, I follow her example.

I thrust my fork into the egg with such ferocity that the table violently shakes from every leg. I wonder if I have done something wrong.

It's fine. Great Water selected the most durable dishes for this very reason. I should continue.

I slice a delicate line with my knife, only placing finite amounts of pressure on its silver figure, and I slowly cut across the plate. When this is done, I lower my fork and shuffle the egg onto it with my knife. I lift the misshapen heap into my mouth and try to swallow. I cannot.

There was a time, when the beasts of the woods were scarce and river had frozen over for the winter, and all the grasses and plants had died, when I was forced to eat whatever fecal matter I could find left on the forest floor. The taste of this egg is oddly reminiscent of that, but I am no longer hungry enough to accept such stomach wrenching things.

Within moments, the egg has fallen back onto my plate, where I hope it will remain.

I must eat the eggs.

I have no desire to do so.

Then I have the desire to starve. Great Water will not have me live on the inside and still eat in the stable.

This doesn't make sense.

It will. Now I must eat.

I force a portion of egg down my throat, but the effort leaves me totally exhausted. I refuse to take another bite.

Then I will be made to eat them when they are cold.

That is how I always eat anything.

Not anymore.

Great Water remains in her seat, her eggs long since finished and stares blankly at me. I place my silverware against the plate, and sit back in my chair, doing the same. I relax and breathe the warm, fresh air of the kitchen, enjoying every minute of this place.

It is the only room I have seen thus far without the polished wood floor. Instead, a collection of white tiles layers ever surface of the room, with the exception of a thirty-six inch band that wraps around the kitchen, composed of random colours stretched in cloudy strands across a shimmering exterior.

When Great Water first showed me a porcelain tile in the stable I would never have conceived the possibility of there ever being so many in existence. The sheer, geometric purity of the tiny white square had seemed entirely surreal to me then. Now, I can spend hours moving my eyes up and down the gracefully layered floor, imagining each and every tile painstakingly placed in its place, each with perfect, mathematical precision. The lines they made were straighter than any ruler could ever allow, and their grid a finer delicacy than a fattened beast lying dead at my feet.

The far wall is composed entirely of glass, though it had none of the transparent qualities of the first shards Great Water had shown me. This glass is dark and mysterious, reflecting nothing and revealing nothing. It absorbs the overpowering whiteness of the room, but does little else. I try not to get my eyes lost on its sleek, smooth finish, for a mere stare risks an endless slip into the eternal void.

It is difficult to know how long we have sat in the kitchen. I tried to count in my head, but after one hundred I ran out of numbers, and the seconds starting to roll out of my grasp. Whatever the time, I am determined not to eat the repulsive filth which covers my plate, and unlike that one time in the desert, I am not so hungry as I once was. It is finally time to try her patience again, and now, I am more than ready for the challenge.

Great Water can remain entirely still, even to the point where it is difficult to notice her breathe, but that is a skill I have yet to acquire. Instead, I shift in my seat whenever I become uncomfortable and switch between leaning on the table with my forearms or my elbow. After I have thoroughly scanned the room and counted the tiles (to one hundred) as many times as sanely possible, I rest my head on the table, close my eyes and drift away in imagination.

I am lying white tiles that make the shape of a giant winding river when Great Water shoves me about to wake up.

It seems I will be eating grass after all.

∞

The parlour's floor is lined with a thick sheet of patterned carpet, the various shapes and colours of which I had to be introduced to separately, lest their combination overwhelm me. Even now, after all this time, after all this "conditioning", as it is named, every mauve flower, sapphire curl, tangerine chevron, inky spiral and emerald edge leaves me wanting days to study and admire them.

A black leather bench encompasses the two walls farthest from the room's only door. It reminds Great Water of something, but it would be meaningless to me right now. Above the benches, the walls are ornamented with white linen squares with a single diagonal slit from corner to corner, although the corners are connected at random. A single chair made of long, thin sticks twisted to form the proper shape sits by the doorway. It is mostly covered in a heavy, maroon quilt, mottled with depictions of events from long past... according to Great Water, that is.

On the seat of the chair lies a small box with three of sides remaining open, revealing its contents to be a neatly stacked pile of paper.

This is a "book". In time I will learn to use them, and it is in this room where they are most often used.

The salon shares the same glass wall as the kitchen, and it too is entirely black and void.

The darkness of this wall makes it difficult to use the books sometimes, but they serve a purpose. Everything on the inside has a purpose.

Although Great Water is not always willing to teach what that purpose is.

There was a time when exploring this room would have taken an entire day's worth of lessons, but I have made significant progress since I first came to the stable. Soon, I will be able to gain knowledge independently, through books, but first, there are many teachings that must be imparted.

Today, "you" will learn about pronouns.

Great Water removes three figurines from her pockets: the first with a shortly cut white dress and long flowing amber locks tied in many ponytails with ribbons; the second with green pants that extend all the way to his short, over his back and brown hair that only comes down as far as his sculpted earlobes; and the third, a slightly rounder figure with fine yellow hair and thick black circles around its eyes.

I

Great Water points to herself.

You

Great Water point to me.

He

Great Water lifts the brown-haired figure.

She

Great Water holds up the white clad model.

We

Great Water points to herself with one hand and to me with the other.

They

Great Water points to the group of figurines, making certain her hand passes over each individually.

There are many other pronouns, but these will be central to my experience. Perhaps I will learn of the others someday; Great Water isn't quite sure. Now, she wants me repeat her teaching to show that I know it.

I

I point to Great Water.

No. You are I.

You is not I. I is I. You is You.

In this instance, I am you, and you already know you are I.

I am confused.

Correct. Now, start again.

I

I point to Great Water.

No.

I point to in the general direction of the figurines.

No.

I point at myself.

Good, now You.

I begin to point at myself, but after a quick glance at Great Water, I decide to point to her instead.

Excellent. Are you still confused?

I don't know. Are you?

I am not.

No, I am.

But, I am not.

I find this extremely confusing, but Great Water's mouth is stretching again, and I feel some sort of warmth rising in the air between us. I close my eyes and try to clear my head.

Great Water wants me to focus instead. "We" haven't even learned what "us" is yet.

∞

I am no longer permitted to go into the stable.

Enough time has passed that Great Water is now able to tend to the horses better and leave me alone, sometime for a great many days at once. There are many doors in the inside that remained locked, and I am expected not to try to enter those rooms. Neither am I to enter the stable, although its door remains unhinged.

One day, I ignored this new rule and quietly entered the stable anyway. Great Water was perched on top of one of the beasts and riding it through the open gate into the outside world when she somehow sensed my presence, stopped the horse, dismounted and closed the gate so it was impossible to see the outside.

For a second, I had glimpsed the empty desert in glistening, engulfing purity, and then, in its place, there was been varnished wood.

Great Water showed no visible emotion, but I was no longer able to eat grass for three days. On third day I was hungry enough to consume the morning eggs, and I've hesitantly come to adopt them into my diet. Every morning they are made slightly more liquidy, and every day they become more difficult to consume. I am willing to stomach it, however, as I doubt that I will ever be able to eat the grass again.

∞

The eggs for the past week have become consistently impossible to stomach. This morning, I thought a river of mangled yolk and white had been poured unto my plate, but Great Water refused to acknowledge that this might be a mistake of some kind.

This is how eggs were intended to be cooked. They're better real, I'll give you that, but these are perfectly good still. I'm not going to watch you waste food.

She did though. I simply couldn't eat them, and her patience has been remarkably short of late. There was noticeable anger on her face when she pushed the eggs off my plate and into the garbage receptacle. It's one of the few emotions that can be seen through her blanket of scars. The contours of her visage twist in wry distortions, hiding their natural plumpness and becoming rigid and sharp. It is a terrifying transition, although it rarely results in any change of behaviour.

Even on days when I do eat the proscribed eggs, I find that they rarely are enough to satiate me, and I long for more within a matter of hours. During the evenings, Great Water has begun laying out another meal for herself: usually a meat named "chicken" (although this is also not "real" chicken) and a variety of vegetables. She always offers me some, but I can only handle the plants, and even then, only in little bites. The chicken is closer to my usual food than the eggs, but Great Water always cooks it in a brown or sometimes orange, boggy liquid that is entirely unappetizing.

I'm far from starving, but I need to eat, and need to eat some normal, something that doesn't make me want to retch the instant it comes down my throat. I'm lying in my room, waiting for sleep to come over me when a plan suddenly slides into my head.

The stable is filled is grass.

I wait for hours until I'm certain that Great Water would be asleep, and then I slowly open my door. The hallway is difficult to navigate in the dark, but its straightness keeps me well-orientated. My every footstep sounds terrifyingly loud against the wood floor, and I cup my feet to muffle the sound.

My progress is slow but I eventually make my way to the stable and enter to find the sleeping horses lying flat curled, their legs tucked under their massive bodies. I walk towards my former, empty stall and am pleasantly surprised to find my old bed of straw completely undisturbed. The outline of my inert body is still pressed into its otherwise shapeless mold.

My trough is completely empty, however, and I am forced to remember where the grass came from. It probably was a stall near the front of the stable so I turn around to find it.

Great Water is standing totally still, blocking my path. Her eyes are pointed upwards and I can see are their whites staring back at me. Her chest is flat and unheaving, her arms pressed firmly at her sides.

With a long, exhaling sigh, her eyes slowly fall into focus, but there's a look in them I do not recognize. Her face seems rounder, smoother and the corners of her mouth slowly spread farther away from each other.

"Oh darcy."

It is the sound of an infant animal returned to its nurturing mother, of a bird come back to its nest, of the moon cooing softly to the stars.

"Oh my dear dear darcy."

Her breath becomes erratic and heavy. Water spurts from the bottom of her eyes and before I can react, she pushes me into the straw on my back, and forces me to stay down. She then violently shoves her lips onto mine and seems determined to suck my tongue out of my skull. I pull away, gasping for breath, but she puts her hand on the back of head, pulls my hair into a fist and repeats the process until every bit of air has been forced from my lungs.

My chest rapidly struggling for oxygen, she begins to caress my neck and collar with her other hand while licking the left side of my face and gently making the sound "darcy" into my ear.

After some time, her arms finally lie limp, wrapped around my neck, and she presses her face into the straw near my shoulder. I can feel my pajamas getting wet from the water of her eyes, and I wonder how long she will keep me like this before I am permitted to leave. Fortunately, it isn't long before she has lost consciousness, and I carefully lift her body off of mine and make my way to the inside.

Just as I am closing the door on the stable, I take one last look at her and see the yellow-haired man with metal circles on his face crouching over Great Water, tenderly stroking her outstretched forearm. He looks up at me, his face contorted in some unknown expression, and I close the door before he can do anything else.