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I’m still writing; class is just taking up a ton of my time now. Reverseworld was created by fridjitzu and coffee-elemental.

Title: I Know You Summary: Gunter and Prismo execute a plan B scenario. The Year of the Sky Witch July

Gunter rummaged through the freezer, humming to himself. It was a warm night at the tree fort, and he'd been thinking of trying some of that broccoli ice cream from the other day. Food from the Kingdom of Unusual Flavours could be hit and miss, but when it was good, it was good.

Simon must have been dredging up his multi-year food preservation experiments again, because the freezer was a mess. There was a bag of frozen raspberries that was more ice crystal than bag, and a sheaf of blank printer paper that Football kept claiming was her emergency backup brain. Gunter reached under a half-empty box of potato wedges, and his flipper brushed against the edge of a plastic bag. He froze. There was only one thing in the freezer that he kept in a bag this flimsy. Inside the bag was a plastic container, and inside the container was Prismo's anchovy sauce.

Actually, it was Gunter's anchovy sauce, based on an old family recipe, but Prismo was the one who'd provided the anchovies. Normally Gunter couldn't get them fresh without trekking all the way to the very south of Uuu, but Prismo had had some kind of hookup, and he'd been very generous about letting Gunter have some whenever he wanted.

But now there were no more anchovies, because Prismo was dead, and it was all Gunter's fault.

No. It wasn't his fault. Gunter was just being negative again. The negative thoughts had started soon after Prismo had... left, and Gunter was beginning to learn to live with them. All he had to do to counter them was think about how it wasn't actually his fault. It was the Lich's fault. Gunter wouldn't even know how to begin disintegrating a person with only his breath. He had failed to stop the Lich from killing Prismo, but that wasn't the same as killing him himself.

Then it was Gunter's fault for bringing the Lich there, except that wasn't true either. Gunter distinctly remembered the Lich entering Prismo's time room on his own. Gunter had only even met Prismo because he and Simon had followed the Lich to Prismo's time room, to stop the Lich from carrying out his evil Lich plans.

But they'd faile-- "Oh, no, we, we definitely won that one," said Gunter aloud. "Definitely stopped him that time. The Lich-- He's got more than one plan."

That should do it. He was getting a lot better at dealing with his negative thoughts. Even before... before, he'd had a lot of practice talking things through with Simon, who'd been always prone to that kind of thinking. It was different when it was your own brain, but he felt like he was on the right track

It was supposed to get him out of the habit of insulting himself all the time, and he wondered when that was going to happen. Probably never.

No, that was yet another negative thought. They'd probably go away sometime if he kept this up.

"Hey, Gunter?" said Simon, from behind him. "You okay?"

Gunter jumped guiltily, and closed the freezer. He'd been standing here arguing with himself and letting all the cold air out. He was such a mess. "Oh, no, I'm fine. Just thinking about the old... thinking. Thoughts. Thinking thoughts. You know me. Always thinking." And he wasn't a mess.

"What are you thinking about?" said Simon. "You doing okay in the melon today, Gunts?"

Gunter considered being honest, but there was no need to burden Simon, who was a growing kid and had his own problems. "Well... I was thinking... I was thinking of polishing off the last of that anchovy sauce!" He realised what he'd said as soon as he said it. Simon knew exactly why Gunter hadn't already eaten that sauce. "It's er, going to go off if we don't eat it soon. Can't let it go to waste! Anchovies..."

Actually, it might last another month if he kept it in the freezer. He could have another month of not having to think about what it meant to eat the last of Prismo's food.

Simon seemed a little more burdened by Gunter's problems than Gunter had hoped. "Oh..." He opened the freezer again and looked inside. "Are you sure?"

"I'm, er... Yes." Gunter would have to eat it sooner or later, and he couldn't keep losing his nerve. "It needs a proper sendoff." So did Prismo.

Gunter was having second thoughts. Actually, he was having twenty-second thoughts. But every time he let himself think that he should just go to bed and do this another day, his negative thoughts cut in, agreed, and told him to just let the sauce go to waste. And then he'd remember why he was doing this.

Prismo was gone forever, and Gunter would have to face that sometime. So why not tonight?

Besides, he'd already reheated the sauce. There was no going back now.

Gunter had constructed a recipe-ritual that he hoped would let Prismo live on in his dreams, which was the way Prismo had always said he'd want to be remembered. The recipe part was a simple spaghetti dish of five ingredients: Minced beef, chopped mushrooms, grated garlic, spaghetti noodles, and, of course, anchovy sauce. He'd prepared them all separately, which was bad cooking, but good ritualling.

And now the meat and sauce were simmering in separate pans, and the garlic, noodles and sauce were sitting aside on plates. He really couldn't put this off any longer.

Gunter waved at Simon, who was standing by with his drum kit. Simon started playing a slow, steady beat on the bass.

Gunter picked up the pan with the mince. "Two utter strangers."

He poured in the mushrooms with a clone body, and stirred them in with his main body. "A chance encounter."

Another clone tipped in the grated garlic. "A foundation of shared priorities and interest... things."

A clone took the pasta and dumped it on top of the meat. "Late night g..."

He couldn't go on. This was all wrong. The words were wrong, the feelings were wrong, Prismo being dead was wrong. He should never have started this ritual, and he didn't care if that was a negative thought.

"Are you sure you wanna do this now?" said Simon, still hitting the drum at the same pace. "If you wanna stop, we can have the pasta with tuna suace..."

"No. No. No stopping," said Gunter. Stopping was even worse than continuing. "I... I'm ready." He wasn't ready, but that was just a negative thought. He tossed the pasta until it was mixed in, and said "Late night grumble parties."

He'd already passed the point of no return at least ten times now, but this part truly was the point of no return. He used his main body to pick up the sauce and pour it over the meal. It didn't mix very well, so he tossed it again until it did. "A... A perfect, immaculate friendship."

Once he was happy with the result, he put on a dinner bib, and carried the food over to the table, putting it down next to the plastic bag he'd kept the sauce in. Prismo had given him his first set of anchovies in this bag. Gunter had cleaned it since then, but it was still the same bag. He wasn't going to throw it away.

Simon's drumming got subtly faster.

Gunter ate the pasta as quickly as he could without choking. It tasted all right, but he couldn't stop thinking about how this was the last time he'd ever have sauce like this. Even if he managed to get fresh anchovies from somewhere else, he didn't think he could eat them. Anchovies meant Prismo, and Prismo was gone.

Simon did a good job speeding up the drumming as Gunter ate. By the time Gunter was down to the last few mouthfuls, it was a drumroll.

Simon was so talented, not like Gunter.

Actually, Gunter had his good points.

He gulped down the final strand of pasta and jumped up. "Quickly! Let's... Let's hurry up and get to bed!" This was the last of the points of no return. As long as Gunter was thinking about Prismo when he went to sleep, his thoughts should transition into a memory-dream. The ritual almost assured that.

Gunter grabbed the plastic bag, fell forwards, and slid towards the ladder to his room. As he slid, he generated a clone underneath him, which generated another clone, until his main body was on top of a tower of sliding Gunters the height of the ceiling. He reached the ladder, grabbed the trapdoor to the bedroom, and pulled himself up, reabsorbing his clones as he did.

Feeling satisfied, he slid across the floor to his bed, noticed the bed was significantly higher than floor level, and realised that he hadn't thought this all the way through. Reluctantly, Gunter slowed down, panting a little, and climbed his bed ladder. But he was still thinking about Prismo, so the ritual was still on track.

Gunter closed his eyes, and dreamed.

Simon opened his eyes, and wondered why he wasn't dead anymore. Had some glob taken pity on him and given him a second chance?

Oh. He'd just been dreaming, and all that heart-weighing ancient Egypt stuff had never actually happened. That was a relief.

Simon grabbed his chest just in case, and was relieved to feel no hole. Prismo had warned... Prismo! He really had dreamed about Prismo, just like Gunter had wanted. The dream had been more about Simon's mostly imaginary sins than Prismo, but the two of them had never really been that close.

Gunter had probably had more luck. Simon looked over at Gunter's bed, but the only thing there was his plastic bag. "Guess he got up already." That was a bad sign. Either Simon had slept really late, or Gunter hadn't had dreamed about anything interesting enough to warrant lying in bed trying to get back to sleep.

And why had he left the plastic bag there like it was garbage? He couldn't have got over Prismo that quickly.

Simon got out of bed and climbed downstairs to see Gunter at the table, staring at nothing. "Gunter?" he called, still on the ladder. "I had a dream, but--"

Gunter burst out laughing. "Can't say I really see the appeal there. But you know." He suppressed another laugh. "Takes all sorts."

Simon stopped climbing. "Appeal? What? What are you talking about?" The appeal of having dreams? Gunter loved dreaming. He wasn't nearly as prone to nightmares as Simon was.

Gunter moved his flipper to his mouth, choked, and slapped himself on the back with a clone.

Simon jumped to the floor and ran over. "Gunter! Are you okay?"

"The Cosmic Owl?" said Gunter, when he'd recovered. "Did he say anything? Do anything weird?"

"Are you still asleep?" said Simon, exasperated. Gunter's eyes were open, but that didn't rule anything out. Apparently Simon sometimes slept with his eyes open, so why couldn't Gunter?

And why was this giving Simon such a strong sense of deja vu?

Gunter looked directly at him for the first time. "Simon, you need to focus, all right? What did the Cos--"

His body warped, then exploded into dust.

Simon stared. "Gunter?"

So, he probably hadn't been sleepwalking. Simon was pretty sure that wasn't what normally happened when you woke up a sleepwalker. But then what was it? Had that even really been Gunter?

Gunter's voice broke into his thoughts, from somewhere on the next floor down. "Simon!" He sounded... angry?

Simon raced downstairs to found Gunter in the doorway of another room, facing away from him. His arms were raised like he was carrying something.

"--so not getting any cookies now!" Gunter was saying.

This was more than deja vu. Gunter really had said that before, on the the day they'd met alternate universe Finn and Jake. Finn had been kind of a belligerent jerk at first, so Simon had knocked him out, and Gunter had scolded him for it. Gunter had been holding cookies on a tray, Simon remembered. Jake had been right next to him, eating them.

But all that had been more than a year ago. Why was Gunter acting it out? Simon peered over Gunter's head, half expecting to see himself and Finn, but the room was empty.

A memory dream? Or maybe just a memory.

If this was the same thing as the Gunter at the table, the Gunter in front of him could also explode at any second. Simon had to act fast if he wanted to get anything useful out of him.

Gunter put his head in his flipper in totally uncalled for annoyance, and Simon grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around.

Gunter opened his beak in shock and dropped his free arm to his side.

Simon managed to say "Gunter, what's going o--" before Gunter exploded into dust again, and Simon exploded into a coughing fit.

"Oh!" said Simon aloud. He coughed a couple more times. "I get it! He explodes when something different happens! Must be some kinda... timeline smearing event... I guess?" But why? And how could Simon break him out of it? He couldn't just wait for him to catch up with reality. That would take years, and Gunter might just get smeared again once he reached the memory of whatever it was that had triggered the problem. Could timeline smears go fractal? Simon didn't know, and he didn't think he wanted to find out. Not like this, anyway.

The first step was to find Gunter again. And to hope that Gunter was confining his reminiscences to the tree fort and wasn't back in the Penguin District reliving his first day of school or something.

He was going to get this right this time. He was going to say the same things he'd said in the memory, and integrate himself into it until the explosion window had run its course. He thought that might probably work, if he did it right, and if explosion windows were real.

Down the hall, he faintly heard Gunter say "Simon? You okay in there?"

Simon rushed into the hall to find Gunter standing outside the bathroom. The door was open, but Gunter's eyes were focused on the doorway, like he couldn't see inside.

Simon hoped he was jumping to conclusions about which memory this was. Gunter must have asked him if he was okay through a closed bathroom door lots of times. It wasn't like he'd never been sick in his life. Gunter was using his careful, Simon-has-major-issues voice, but it didn't immediately follow that he was trying to comfort Simon after he'd struck out with Bonnibel for the millionth time and Simon was about to snap at him.

Gunter had been trying to give him romantic advice, and Simon had said that Gunter didn't know anything about romance, because he was dating some absurd fraction of everyone in the world. It didn't even make sense as an insult, but Simon had said it because he'd thought it might hurt him. Thankfully, it hadn't, but that didn't stop Simon from replaying what he'd said in his mind every time someone asked how he'd met his girlfriend.

Hearing Gunter act it out was even worse.

"Beg your pardon?" said Gunter.

He was still using that voice. It really was the memory Simon thought it was, and he had to say something soon, or he'd never integrate himself.

But what? Simon never played out this part of the conversation in his head. He was hard pressed to even remember the exact words Gunter had used right after Simon had snapped at him.

Gunter had just asked if he was okay, and Simon had been angry at himself for being so unloveable and stupid, and at Gunter for being there and being so concerned... He probably would have lied? "I said I'm fine," Simon tried.

No, even if the words were right, the way he'd said them were wrong. He was pretty sure his voice had been higher when he was thirteen, and he needed to sound more upset, and...

Gunter whirled around. "Blimey, Simon. You almost gave me--"

Simon remembered to hold his breath before Gunter exploded this time.

Obviously where he stood mattered just as much as what he said. It was time to stop experimenting, and start researching.

This was beginning to scare him.

Gunter found himself in a huge room made of blocks. Or it was a set of rooms. Or he was outside, halfway up some impossibly giant structure made entirely out of blocks. He couldn't tell. He was standing on a staircase that led from the roof of a block structure to a hallway between some other blocks. Below the staircase, the blocks stretched down into blackness.

There were definitely blocks. That much was obvious.

In fact... He gasped. "It's Prismo's house!" It wasn't, but it had a similar kind of aesthetic. "It actually worked, I can't be--"

Gunter stopped talking abruptly, and narrowed his eyes. There was something off about his voice. It sounded normal, and for a dream, that was really strange.

He spawned a clone and inspected himself through the clone's eyes. "Hm. Now that... That is odd." In his dreams, he usually looked tall and bluish, with big wing and tail feathers, and his voice was much higher. He even spoke with a different accent. Not because he particularly thought of himself as being tall and blue. It was just the way he looked when he was asleep.

But this time, he seemed to be the same height, colour and species as normal. Maybe his usual dream form was on break or something.

He reabsorbed the clone and ambled down the stairs. Now, if the ritual had worked, where was Prismo? Gunter couldn't see him anywhere. Obviously, the ritual hadn't worked, and he was on the failure plane, where the failures lived.

"Oh, be patient," he muttered aloud. "Prismo must be... Well, he's further along, isn't he?" There was plenty of whatever this was that he hadn't seen yet.

Prismo approached on the wall of a distant block, and disappeared down the same hallway that Gunter was approaching.

"Ooh!" said Gunter. "There he is! Prismo! Prismo! Wait for me!"

Prismo didn't seem to hear him. Gunter raced down the stairs and slid after Prismo on his belly. As he picked up speed, Prismo seemed to as well. When he slowed down, so did Prismo. Gunter was beginning to wonder if he'd ever catch up when the hallway ran out, and he was sliding in empty space, surrounded by stars.

And there was a comet. Gunter flipped himself upright, and stared. It was... It was. And he wanted it. It was so close... He just had to reach out, but not yet... He just needed to wait a little longer, and...

Gunter lost track of time as he gazed as the comet. He'd never wanted something so much in his life, and he had no idea why. He just knew it was important. It was more than important, it was...

It wasn't Prismo, that was what it was. Gunter shook his head repeatedly. "Right. Yes. Okay. Prismo. Hope I-- Hope I haven't lost him..."

The hallway reassembled around him, and Gunter waddled along it. If Prismo was going to match his speed exactly, there was no point tiring himself out with more sliding.

A nearby wall turned transparent, and Gunter heard his own voice say "Couldn't you put the TV on the other side of the bed? Then you can watch TV without getting up."

Gunter peered through to see himself and Prismo in the time room, relaxing in the hot tub.

"And ruin the feng shui?" said Prismo. "You don't even wanna know how bad my luck's been lately. It's the equivalent of walking under thirteen ladders."

Ah, this must have been from they'd first met, when Gunter had been too intimidated to reveal what he really thought of feng shui.

Eventually, he'd learned that he and Prismo had one important belief in common, and that was that everyone was entitled to their beliefs. Gunter didn't care that that Prismo believed in feng shui, and Prismo didn't care that Gunter didn't.

Hadn't. He hadn't cared that Gunter didn't share his belief in the relationship between furniture and life energy.

Gunter watched himself talk with Prismo for the first time. Neither of them seemed to be able to see him, and he was glad. Time was complicated, and he didn't want to damage it.

He had a tentative thought that reruns of old memories didn't count as seeing Prismo again, but he was pretty sure it was wrong, so he ignored it. This was exactly what he'd been trying to do, and if he stared enough, the sound of Prismo's voice would stop making him sad.

A giant, treehouse-sized Gunter appeared outside the window, and Simon flipped the pages of last year's Journal of Temporal Paradoxai even more aggressively. Gunter was right there, but Simon couldn't talk to him. Not until he figured this out.

He'd thought maybe Gunter wouldn't explode if he left him alone, but according to his research, Gunter would eventually notice something was amiss no matter what. The change in the memory had to be relatively close to him, or he'd dismiss it, but unless he was kept in a featureless, airtight room, it would happen eventually.

If Gunter had to be unstuck from time and space, Simon at least wanted him to stop exploding. It looked like it hurt. He just couldn't figure out how to help. He didn't have a featureless, airtight room, and he had no way of moving Gunter there even if he did. He needed to think of something else.

Simon put down the journal, picked up a book titled Space, Time, Spacetime, and Timespace, and flipped to the index. He remembered this book being pretty basic, but smeared timelines were an uncommon research topic, and he was getting desperate.

He quickly discarded the idea that Gunter's spacetime anchor had been eaten by elderitchs. It wasn't impossible, but a quick cross-reference with Not Just Tentacles and Beaks!: A Phylogeny of Otherworldly Horrors told him that that type of eldritch was uncommon in this corner of the rational planes. He was searching for any mention of other causes of timeline smearing when a Gunter clone ended the room, and walked straight into Simon's reading chair.

"Oof!" said the clone. "Oh, Simon. Good timing. Let me tell you about--"

The clone exploded. So did the giant Gunter outside.

Simon had one second to try to concentrate before Gunter's voice floated in from the kitchen. Simon couldn't hear what he was saying, but every word sounded like an accusation that he wasn't upset enough, and wasn't doing enough to help.

He could read and keep an eye on Gunter. Probably. At least it might alleviate the guilt before it turned into an unmanageable spiral. Simon walked up to the kitchen doorway and listened.

Gunter was standing near the oven, looking with mild surprise at a point to Simon's left. Then he said "Simon says it's not that far. He says there are a lot of places-- Not in Uuu, obviously-- a lot of places that are further from the ocean than space."

Simon tried to remember when he'd had a reason to drop that particular fact onto Gunter. Maybe when they'd discussed when rockets would be reinvented? Or... Was the time he'd tried to build that revenge rocket? Simon still couldn't think about that without feeling awful about what that had done to Gunter. He was still waiting for the other shoe to drop on that. You couldn't have your brain pop out and just walk away like nothing had happened.

Simon hadn't been well himself at the time, but that was no excuse for trying such a dangerous revenge plan on someone he'd had no chance of finding. O'Malley could have been anywhere in the universe at that point. The border between Earth and space might be very close, but most things in space were very, very far away.

Gunter waved a flipper and said "Oh, he knows what he's doing. He'll be fine."

There was no way this wasn't about the revenge rocket. That was twice his worst fears had come true now. Seeing Gunter talk to Marceline about it really hammered that how stupid Simon had been. He couldn't hear what Gunter was hearing, but judging by his responses, she was expressing concern.

This was not helping his concentration as much as he'd hoped.

"Wait!" said Gunter. He made a twisting motion on the oven's temperature knob, and climbed towards the window.

This must have been just before he'd stowed away on the rocket. Simon couldn't watch this.

Simon crossed the kitchen and grabbed Gunter as he was saying "He needs his space!"

"Gunter!" said Simon, knowing it didn't matter what he said, but not caring. "You can't!"

Gunter looked at him, then out the window. "Er, Marceline? Sim--"

Simon was beginning to get used to the feeling of his brother exploding in his arms, and that was scary. He started back to the other room, and Gunter reappeared near the oven.

"Not again..." muttered Simon. Now Glob was just tormenting him.

Gunter seemed to be stirring something on the stovetop. He looked at it, sighed, and waved his flipper in the direction of the drum kit, which was standing where Simon had left it last night.

Gunter mimed for a couple of seconds, then said "Two utter strangers."

Simon bit his tongue to stop himself from yelling out loud. This was the ritual from last night! If he could keep this going for long enough, he'd be able to see what happened to Gunter afterwards, and maybe get a hint about what was going on. No more trying to read while Gunter acted out every time Simon had ever failed him.

Simon leapt behind the drum kit and began hitting the bass, at the same steady pace as last night. He stared nervously at Gunter.

Gunter didn't look like he was about to explode. He said "A chance encounter."

Simon relaxed as much as he dared. This was the second-most important drum recital of his life. If he missed a beat, Gunter would probably explode again, and Simon didn't know how long it would be before this opportunity came up again. He'd had enough of this. He just wanted his brother back.

Gunter still wasn't certain where he was, but he was beginning to settle on "weird block city that looks like that megacity Karl made when she was two days old and Gunter Jr knocked down when she was two days and one hour." The block structures looked a bit like skyscrapers, and there seemed to be a sky above him. It was dark purple and featureless, but it was still a sky.

Memories of Prismo were playing on the walls of the buildings all around him, and Gunter felt that this project had been a moderate success so far. Prismo was going to be living on Gunter's dreams for a good while yet.

There was another door up ahead, and Gunter wondered what was inside this one. Maybe it was a high quality home theatre system with video of every one of Gunter's Prismo memories. Or maybe it was a monster from the beginning of time ready to eat his soul, but that was just a negative thought.

Some small dinosaurs walked directly up the left side of the walkway. They were about the same size as Gunter, and they were treating the vertical wall like it was solid ground. When they got to the top, they rotated ninety degrees and walked across the real ground.

Gunter stopped to let them pass, and also to figure out the surge of anger and loathing that was suddenly overwhelming him. He kept thinking things like No! Not again! and Crush them! Crush them now!

Gunter didn't see what the big deal was. He'd never seen anything like these dinosaurs before, and they weren't threatening him, so there was no reason to crush them. He could have, but you couldn't go around crushing things just because they were there. It was bad manners.

Maybe it was one of those racial memory things. Penguins probably hadn't had a good time back in dinosaur days. He couldn't see what was so scary about these normal sized guys, though. It was the big T-Rex-looking things his ancestors probably would have had to watch out for.

The last of the dinosaurs continued on down the right side of the walkway, and Gunter started walking again, wondering which memory of Prismo he'd see next. He hoped it was that hot tub party they'd had with alternate universe Jake. When Gunter and Jake had found out they both knew Prismo, they'd had to get together for a soak. They'd planned to do it again sometime, but... The Lich.

A nearby wall flickered, and there were Simon and Gunter, in Prismo's time room, standing in front of a bed where Prismo's waking old man body was sleeping. O'Malley was there as well, and Gunter didn't like how close he was standing to Simon. Prismo was up on the wall, and the Lich was looming in the background.

"Psh," Prismo was saying. "What could go wrong?"

Gunter forgot about not interfering, and tried to yell a warning. But he'd frozen on the spot. He could only stare as the Lich grabbed the old man version of Prismo, woke him up, and then killed him, while a running commentary went on in Gunter's head about everything he could have done better to prevent this. He could have kept a closer eye on the Lich. He could have knocked old man Prismo out of the Lich's hand. He could have gone on a diet so he wouldn't be so fat and useless.

What? He was a penguin. He was supposed to be fat. Or he'd die of hypothermia the next time he went for a nice winter swim. His negative thoughts needed to step up their game.

The Lich started laughing, and Gunter turned away. He didn't want to remember Prismo like this. But... He didn't have many bad Prismo memories. Maybe now that this one was over with, he could get back to the good ones.

Gunter threw himself onto his belly and slid down the walkway to the building up ahead, leaving the sound of himself screaming at the Lich behind.

The building consisted of one room, and was pretty large, but there was only two things in it: a bed, and a small inverted pyramid with a glass of milk on it. That was weird.

Gunter rubbed the pillow with his flippers. "No friction..." he murmured. He'd never wake up with fluffed feathers with a pillow like this. He prodded it, and it was so plump and soft that it was an effort to pull his wing tip back out.

"Now, what about this bed?" The frame was hovering off the ground, which was usually a bad sign, stability-wise. Gunter grew as large as he could without his head scraping the ceiling, and pushed down with all his strength.

Nothing. It was completely stable. This bed would survive an avalanche.

Gunter shrunk back to his usual size, and stroked the bed's blanket absent-mindedly. He'd never seen anything that came close to how comfortable this bed looked. He liked to think he'd done a good job with his bed at home, but it was a pile of rusty nails compared to this.

Gunter wasn't stupid. He'd crawled enough dungeons to know a trap when he saw one. But who would set a trap for him in his own dream? He couldn't even remember what happened when you went to sleep in a lucid dream. He had the feeling that it was either dangerous or impossible, but he couldn't remember exactly. Knowing about that stuff was Simon's job.

Maybe sleeping here would just push him one more level down, into his sub-subconscious, where he'd achieve oneness with all things. That sounded pretty nice.

And who'd miss him if it went wrong? He was always thinking about what a horrible person he was, how nobody could like him, and how he'd completely failed at everything he'd tried. He wasn't sure he completely believed that, but he believed it enough to make trying the bed out seem like a calculated risk.

No. He was a great person, and a wonderful brother, partner, and father. Well, a wonderful brother and partner. He was a talented cook, his good-natured friendliness won over everyone he met, and he'd saved small portions of Uuu countless times. He'd been places and done things that most people would never dream of. If he died now, the world would be poorer for it.

"Hm." That was weird. Maybe all the negative thought countering had finally caught up with him. All at once.

Anyway, it was nice of him to say to himself, although bordering on conceited, but the bed was still really tempting... Maybe he'd just check what it felt like. He'd probably never get another chance like this. The mattress was just soft enough to mould to his body while being firm enough to stop him from waking up with a sore back in the morning, and whatever the blanket was stuffed with, it was softer than chick-kitten down.

If he fell asleep in this bed, he'd never wake up again. He knew that suddenly, although he couldn't say know how.

In that case, he'd make sure to just lie in it for a few seconds, without going to sleep. He could probably do that. This sudden burst of terror and helplessness he was feeling should keep him awake.

Gunter gulped down the milk, and tucked himself into the bed. He inhaled slowly. "That's... That is even softer than I thought it would be! I thought it would be soft, but this is amazing!" His eyes wanted to close, but he kept them open with an effort.

I command you to leave this bed and wake up!

"You know what, you know I think I can close my eyes, actually," he said. He really wanted to. That would be even more relaxing. "Without sleeping, of course. You know, there's an entire stage between closing your eyes and actually sleeping." He'd open them right away. Well, after a minute or two, once he was satisfied that he could leave an accurate review on the Dream Block City Hotel de Trap website. Bed quality was an important consideration.

Do not close your eyes! Wake up! Wake up!

Gunter closed his eyes, and dreamed.

Simon finished the drumroll, which he was pretty proud of. It had been his own contribution to the ritual, and it seemed like he'd got the timing down perfectly twice in a row. Or Gunter wasn't paying enough attention to the drumming to tell whether it was slightly different, but Simon thought it was probably the first one.

"Quickly!" said Gunter. "Let's... Let's get to bed!" He grabbed his plastic bag and headed for the ladder on top of a tower of clones.

Simon followed as closely as he dared, and climbed the bedroom ladder just in time to see Gunter climb into bed.

Simon peered at him from the other side of the room. He wasn't sure if he could get any closer without Gunter detecting him and exploding again. He should have experimented more on distance.

The plastic bag began to glow, and Gunter vanished in a flash of light.

"The bag?" said Simon. He took a running leap at Gunter's bed, hoping the bag was a portal like his instincts suggested. Otherwise he was about to dive into a drawer and break all his fingers.

He didn't break his fingers. Instead, he appeared on a staircase, in a strange city of blocks.

Gunter was wandering down a walkway ahead of him. He said something like "Oh, be patient. Prismo must be... Well, he's further along, isn't he?"

"Gunter!" called Simon, then clapped his hands over his mouth. There was no reason to think he'd caught up to Gunter in real time yet, and he hadn't come this far just to have him explode again. But he had no idea how he was going to be able to tell when he was caught up. Would Gunter start looking more real? He already looked as real as he ever did. He wasn't faded or transparent or anything like that. He was just Gunter.

Distantly, Gunter said "Ooh! There he is! Prismo! Prismo! Wait for me!" and slid off down a hallway.

Simon sprinted after him, but he hadn't got far when a block in the wall slid aside. Inside was Prismo, who put out an arm to stop him. "Simon. Hold up."

Simon stared. "Prismo? But you... You-- Oh, I get it! You're dream resonance!"

Prismo looked uncomfortable. "Uh... No, I'm the real Prismo. I'm actually talking to you from the past. I set up this plan B scenario in case I ever get croaked for reals. So if this is happening, then I guess I croaked, and my anchovies ran out. But Gunter and I established a bro bond that should bring me back through his dreams."

"Are you time-travelling, or are you just predicting everything I'm gonna say?" said Simon, intrigued. Prismo was more about wishes and dreams than time, but he was at least loosely associated with all three.

"Maybe..." Prismo began. "Huh, I don't know. Prediction...?"

"'Cause you have power over possibility!" said Simon. He'd never got much of a chance to question Prismo about the extent of his abilities before, although he wished it had happened in better circumstances.

Prismo glanced around. "Uh... Hurry up, I need your help." He opened up another block in the wall to reveal a passageway, and Simon stepped through.

"What's the deal with Gunter?" said Simon, as they walked. "He won't stop exploding and acting out the past! Is he gonna explode if we talk to him here?"

"Oh, that," said Prismo. "I think it's just a side effect of dreaming a dream from inside your own dream? It's fine, he'll... Uh, it'll be fine."

"Ah, I knew it!" said Simon. That was sort of like what he'd thought. Gunter had got sucked into his own dream somehow, but dreams needed an outside source to maintain themselves. So reality had... picked out earlier versions of Gunter to fill the gap? Yeah, that was probably it. "How did he get in his own dream? His timeline got smeared, right? Is smeared the technical term?"

"Look, Simon," said Prismo, "I don't think I'm supposed to tell singulars about all this. They come down hard on that kind of thing--"

Simon opened his mouth.

"Don't ask who "they" are," Prismo added quickly.

"Okay..." said Simon reluctantly. "Do you still exist in every timeline? Even timelines where you never died? Are you just doing something else right now in those timelines?"

"Simon, I'm serious," said Prismo. "Listen. If you hear about the deets from me, you could, uh... destabilise the balance of the multiverse. You don't want that, right?"

"I guess not..." said Simon. He guessed preserving reality was better than getting easy answers, but he had so many questions. He was beginning to see why Gunter got along so well with Prismo. Gunter rarely asked about this sort of thing, and never pressed the issue.

They walked in silence for a little while. It was a long passageway, and Simon couldn't see any sign of their destination, whatever it was.

Prismo cleared his throat. "So, Simon. How has your day been?"

Simon was too surprised to respond for a second. "Not that great. I didn't sleep good, and my brother keeps exploding."

Prismo nodded. "Right, yeah, of course." He laughed nervously. "Me, I got a couple replies on my dating profile yesterday. I mean, I'm not optimistic, but who knows? They seem nice. One of them eats their pizza crust first, just like me, so, you know, we have that in common."

Simon had heard a little about Prismo's love life from Gunter, but it was still weird to hear him talk about it. What did he care about dating? Globs were supposed to be... Well, it depended on the glob. But they weren't supposed to be active on social media. "Uh... Good luck."

"Hey, thanks, Simon," said Prismo. "I hope you and your girlfriend are doing okay. But don't actually tell me, I can't know anything else about your timeline in case I figure out when I died."

"You really like not knowing things, huh?" said Simon. He couldn't relate. If he'd been able to find out the exact time and place of his death, he... Actually, now that he thought about it, maybe he wouldn't want to know.

"Knowledge is power, Simon," said Prismo. "I can't change the future-- I mean, I can, but you don't really wanna see that-- and I told you, I'm gonna get in trouble."

"But... you're a glob," said Simon. He could accept that globs had metaphysical limitations, but what higher power could the Almighty Prismo possibly have to answer to?

Prismo laughed nervously. "I'm not a glob... I mean... I guess I am? But I... I'm not really a glob."

Simon stared down the hallway, but he still couldn't see where it ended. "Hey. How much longer is this hallway? When are we gonna get where we're going? Where are we going?"

"It's, uh... just a little further," said Prismo. "Don't worry. I'm leading you the right way."

Simon opened his mouth, then closed it again. Prismo sounded a lot like he was lying, but maybe he was just nervous. He was a good friend of Gunter's, and Simon should give him the benefit of the doubt.

Some fish crawled out of the ground like it was water and kept pace with them.

Simon watched them for a while, then said "What are those?" They had elongated bodies and fleshy fins, like lungfish. But Simon was sure that lungfish didn't have such intricate fin joints. He'd been trying to learn to identify different fish by sight, so that he'd stop embarrassing himself in front of his girlfriend so much, but these ones had him stumped.

"What's... huh?" said Prismo. He leaned over to look where Simon was looking. "I don't see anything."

"Those walking fish there," said Simon. He pointed, although Prismo already seemed to be looking in the right direction. "Look!"

Prismo leaned further forward and squinted. "Sorry, Simon, I can't see anything. Are you playing a prank on me or something?"

"No--" Simon began, and the fish dived back into the floor. "Aw, they're gone."

Prismo seemed a little worried. "Well... That could mean... Oh, it'll be okay."

"But what will be okay? What's going on?" Simon wanted to help, but how could he when Prismo wouldn't tell him anything?

Prismo smiled nervously. "I-It?" He pointed ahead, where some more wall blocks were withdrawing to form a new passageway. "Oh, we're here."

This passageway led into a mostly empty room, with one significant thing in it. "Gunter!"

Against the same wall the passageway came out in, there was a bed. Gunter was sleeping in it, which was a little worrying. Simon had thought Gunter knew how dangerous it was to sleep in a dream. And there was a second Prismo on the wall behind Gunter, which was a lot worrying. Prismo's dream-time-wish glob form had been powered by a sleeping old man. Gunter wasn't old or a man, but...

"You've gotta-" Prismo began.

"Hey..." said Simon. "That's you! Is Gunter...? What did you do to him? You turned him into your host body!"

"Actually, you're pretty much--" Prismo said.

Simon took up a fighting stance. He wished he had a weapon, but he didn't know what would work on a glob, especially one with no physical form.

No wonder Prismo had acted so unruffled about his death back then. He must have known the whole time that he was safe, and that Gunter was going to take the old man's place. How could he? "You lied to us!" He was certain that Gunter had never agreed to this. He would have said something.

Prismo drew back. "Simon, calm down. It's--"

"Okay?" yelled Simon. "Was that what you were gonna say? I thought Gunter was your friend! Were you planning this the whole time? Was he ever your friend? You were playing the long game, weren't you!"

Simon looked over at other Prismo to gauge how much of a threat he was, but he didn't even seem to be looking in their direction. Gunter wasn't reacting either, but Gunter had always been a heavy sleeper. If Simon couldn't wake him with his voice alone, he'd just have to go over there. He was determined to commit a cosmic crime today one way or another.

Prismo sputtered for a second, then said "Simon, your job is to wake him up. I swear."

"I'm gonna wak-- Huh?" Simon rubbed his temples. Had Prismo just said..? "I'm supposed to wake him up? That'll help you come back to life? And Gunter will be okay?"

"Yeah," said Prismo. "I'd never sentence Gunter to sleep for eternity. Without asking him first. Now go on and wake him up. Hurry!"

Tentatively, Simon entered the room and approached the bed. "Uh... Hi, other Prismo. I'm sorry I got mad at you. Him."

"Don't worry about it," said Prismo. "You're gonna wake up Gunter, right? Plan B?"

"I--" Simon began, then stiffened as someone came up behind him. A physical someone, not another projection like Prismo. He put his hand to his belt, although he hadn't had nunchucks for a while, and began to turn.

He felt a wrench, and then he didn't really feel much of anything.

Prismo faded away, and Gunter opened his eyes. "Oh, hello. I must have dozed off." He yawned, stretched, and closed his eyes again.

Simon shook him harder. "Gunter! Get out of bed, we gotta get out of here! It's dangerous to sleep in a dream."

"M'not sleeping," Gunter mumbled. "Just... testing the bed. A firm... firm, soft..."

Simon gave up and dragged Gunter out of bed.

Gunter looked around. "Oh. Yes. Right. Thank you, Simon. What are you doing in my dream?"

"Prismo had me wake you up--" Simon began.

Gunter ran for the passageway before Simon could finish. "Prismo! I knew he was alive!" He hugged the wall Prismo was projected onto.

"Well, not yet," said Prismo. "Simon, in a second, you've gotta stop yourself from waking up Gunter."

"Me..." said Simon. "So I got smeared too!" He had no idea when that had happened, but it wasn't something you could detect on your own. "But if I interrupt my timeline, won't I explode?"

"Oh shoot!" said Prismo suddenly. "Hide!" He withdrew into the space between the blocks that made up the wall.

Gunter shrunk down to the size of a nail and hit in Simon's waistcoat pocket. Simon scrambled up the wall and wedged himself in the corner between the wall and the ceiling. It wasn't comfortable, but it was the best option in a bare corridor like this.

Another Simon and Prismo walked past. Simon was saying "But what will be okay? What's going on?"

Simon waited until they'd turned the corner, then dropped back to the floor, frowning. He didn't remember saying that on the way here. This Simon's timeline had already diverged, and he didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Prismo emerged from the gap between blocks, and Gunter jumped out of Simon's pocket.

Prismo said "But wait, Gunter, that means one of your alternate reality incarnations will sleep forever to keep me alive."

Gunter looked thoughtful. "You know, I've, I've always wanted to do that?"

Simon actually believed him.

He thought he got it now: Prismo was trying to split Gunter's timeline into one where Simon woke Gunter up from eternal sleep, and one where he didn't. Simon didn't think he liked it, but it was Gunter's decision. He was more concerned about the split in his own timeline.

"And, Simon, I don't know if you'll explode or not," Prismo added. "It's kind of like a divide by zero thing."

"I don't think I have the right to make myself blow up..." said Simon. He'd done a lot of thinking about alternate selves, and he preferred to treat them like separate beings, even when they had almost exactly the same experiences and memories.

"You know what?" said Prismo. "Forget it." He turned to leave.

"Wait!" said Simon. "Gunter's okay with it, so... I'm okay with it too. I don't know you as well as he does, but you're in trouble, and I help people." Also, Prismo's death had probably been his fault, but Gunter had asked him to stop saying that about everything, even when it was true. "And if I was here, I'd say the same thing."

As he spoke, he heard the faint sounds of himself jumping to conclusions about Prismo's intentions. There wasn't much time left.

"Good luck," said Prismo.

Simon waited for the yelling to die down, and cautiously exited the passageway. He'd timed it about right. Simon was still talking to the revived Prismo, and didn't seem to have noticed Simon yet. Simon steeled himself to grab Simon by the shoulder, then hesitated. Now that he was facing the possibility of annihilating himself from realtiy, he wasn't as sure he'd agree to this in his place. Maybe...

The Simon in front of him stiffened and began to turn around, but before he could complete the motion, he rose into the air and exploded. A pair of nunchucks dropped down where he'd been.

Simon stepped back. "Wh-- Huh?" The nunchucks had black handles with shiny green jewels, and a red chain. It was the exact same black as his waistcoat, and the exact same green as his shirt, and the exact same red as his bowtie. What had he done to him?

Even through his confused horror, he was half annoyed that he wasn't stealthy enough to hide from himself, and half pleased that he was perceptive enough to notice when he wasn't alone.

Hesitantly, Simon picked up the nunchucks. They had a familiar feel to them that he couldn't put his finger on. It was books, and stubbornness, and believing people could change for the better. It was worry that he wasn't good enough, and a desire to figure out everything. It was believing the world could change for the better.

"Prismo," he said, looking around at the passageway, but it had closed. He addressed the Prismo above the sleeping Gunter instead. "Prismo. Are these... me?"

"Simon-chucks, dude," said Prismo.

Simon stared into the gems on the handles. His reflection stared back. "Can I bring me back?" They could bring Prismo back. Although Simon wasn't nearly as important as Prismo.

His Gunter slapped him on the back. "Don't worry, Simon, you're already back! After all, you're standing here, aren't you?"

"Alternate mes aren't disposable, Gunter," said Simon. Maybe Gunter's clone thing made him see things differently, but this was totally different from directing a second body. This alternate him had had his own consciousness, and now he was a blunt instrument.

"Just a casualty on the way to your ultimate self," said Gunter, with an air of spiritual certainty. "The ultimate self is the bloke who really matters, you know."

"Ultimate selves aren't all they're cr--" Prismo began, then flickered off for a second.

He reappeared, and then began to distort. He didn't look uncomfortable, but he did look worried.

Simon ran over to the sleeping Gunter, and checked his temperature. He seemed okay, and he was showing no signs of waking up. "Is this normal?" said Simon.

Prismo was blinking on and off like Morse code. "I don't kn--, --de, I've n--er done this bef--. I think... --me --rt of Gunt-- is -ca-ed? --, -a-?"

Simon had to take a second to translate. Sleeping Gunter was... scared? "So you don't really want to sleep forever!" he said to Gunter. It was half a relief.

"No no, that doesn't sound like me..." said Gunter. "Strange. Maybe I don't know myself as well as I thought I did. Well, live and learn, live and learn."

Prismo distorted badly, and the room began to crumble.

"Oh, wait, wait," said Gunter, as bits of yellow dust rained on them. "After your time, Prismo, but I have... Well, I have "depression" now. Is that the problem?"

Prismo turned back to normal for long enough to frown. "Huh, maybe... I think it'll calm down soon-- Gunter, look out!"

A piece of ceiling fell towards them, so Simon batted it away with the nunchucks in his hand. Then he remembered what they were, and who they were. "Oh, clamballs! I'm sorry, me!"

"Don't worry about it, bro," said his own voice. Simon thought it was a third alternate version of himself, and looked around wildly, until he realised it was coming from the nunchucks.

He turned them around in his hands until he caught a glimpse of his own face on one of his handles. "Is... Is that you?" No. It was just his reflection in one of the jewels.

His reflection spoke. "I know you're freaking out. I would be freaking out in your shoes, and I'm you. But it's fine. I don't... I don't think I'm fully sapient anymore. I don't want anything. I'm just... me."

"Huh?" was all Simon could think of to say.

"You don't have to feel guilty about this," said his reflection.

Simon stared.

He was dimly aware that the corridor had stabilised, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from himself.

Prismo said "I think I'm okay now. Gunter, man, I'm sorry to hear you're depressed. Is there anything I can do? I had this friend once, he kept pretending everything was fine, and then the whole solar system he was in charge of? It exploded. I wonder whatever happened to that guy..."

Gunter sounded embarrassed. "Oh, I've just about got it under control. No need to worry about me."

"If you ever need to talk..." said Prismo.

"Of course," said Gunter. "Yes. Absolutely."

Simon tore his eyes away from his new himself-chucks, and noticed that it wasn't Gunter sleeping in the bed anymore. It was old man Prismo.

Well, why not? He knew he was going to have some kind of mental breakdown once he'd processed all this, but for now, he was just glad Prismo was alive again.

#reverseworld

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