Sherry Book, the chair of ComicCon 2040, studied the images coming to her from the Galaxy Room where fans of the ten famous authors were erecting tents. Groups of attendees began doing impromptu readings of their favorite texts and performing small plays. Others played games that appeared in the books and performed rites from religions invented by the authors. Other events scheduled for the room were redirected as the vigil took on a life of its own. In many ways, it was the most successful event of the conference. Perhaps it would be necessary to kidnap some authors on purpose in the future.

Melody Reynolds, her assistant, stuck her nose in the door. "Ma'am?" she queried.

"Come in. Have you found out anything about our missing authors?"

The young woman did as she was asked. Despite repeated instructions that staff were not to participate in cosplay, Melody looked as if she belonged in the old west, complete with spurs on her heals and sizable silver guns in her belt.

"Yes, Ma'am," Melody said. "I hired a medium, and he was able to give me a name: Shahryr."

Sherry rubbed her temples. "A medium," she repeated, feeling a headache coming on. "Well, I'm sure we'll find our authors in no time then."

"I--well, I thought that since--"

"Thank you, Melody. Please go, put on some appropriate clothes, and continue your search."

Head lowered, Melody ducked out the door.

With a sigh, Sherry turned around and reached for the liquor cabinet. "Mediums," she muttered.

#

The authors continued to regard the small shed, the dead woman on the ground, and the many bottles of ingredients on her work table.

"Are you suggesting that we traveled through the Fairy Realm?" David asked.

Nancy shrugged. "It is the only place to get dragon tears."

Everyone thought about that silently for a few moments.

"Maybe the butterfly we followed wasn't really a butterfly," K.J. suggested. "Maybe it was a Fairy in disguise?"

"That's a really interesting theory," Chay said. "But I'm starving."

"And we aren't any closer to finding the road back, or the bus," Jinn observed.

"Well, the exit has to be that way," Steve said, pointing. "It's the only road."

"Unless we're on an island," K. J. said.

Amber shuddered. "I hope we aren't. This place doesn't feel right."

So the group set off marching. It turned out, however, that the road came to a dead end at a beach. After passing between two abandoned stone towers, the road simply vanished into the surf.

Undeterred, the writers found a side path and followed it around. After a long hike they came to the conclusion that they were on an island as K.J. had supposed. Hot and tired, they returned to the front door of the house.

The dead woman still rocked on her chair on the porch, as if patiently awaiting their return.

"So when the tide goes out, the road should open up again." Holly said as they climbed the steps. "Then we'll go home."

"Whatever," Chay said. "I'm going to find the kitchen." With that he bounded up the porch steps and into the house. The others followed slowly, returning to the dining room where they'd originally found themselves.

"Hey!" Chay called from a doorway. "You guys have got to see this."

The rest followed.

The kitchen was nearly cathedral-sized, full of shining steel. Bank upon bank of robotic arms waited near the refrigerators, stoves, and hovered above the stainless steel counters crammed with platters and appliances.

A sixty inch screen blazed to life, showing the image of a man with over-large eyes and wild hair. "Hungry?" he asked. "Why I have just the thing!"

Three of the ovens opened, and robotic arms lifted out trays of roasted meat, potatoes, and steaming stews filled with brightly colored vegetables. Nearly every stomach awoke to the scent as the offerings made their way through a side door. Tracks in the ceiling made it possible for the arms to whisk the food out to the dining room.

"That all looks too fattening to me," Kristin observed. "I think I'll just stick with these power bars I found."

Before her, one of the drawers stood open. She lifted a bar.

"No!" K. J. screamed. "Those are dangerous!"

"Why is that?" the woman with the red head scarf asked. As before, she seemed to appear out of nowhere. "Aren't they the brand you used to sell?"

"Yes. I know the place where they were made. I don't know how they got here, but those things are deadly dangerous. Here's how I know..."