The transition was instantaneous, so smooth it felt as though the universe had blinked. One moment, they stood on the edge of the Grand Canyon; the next, they were adrift in an expanse of unbroken white. The void stretched endlessly, erasing all sense of boundaries. The concepts of up and down, near and far, lost all meaning. There were no edges, no shadows, no horizon, just an infinite, disorienting emptiness that seemed to swallow the concepts of distance and direction whole. The ground seemed to merge with the sky in a disorienting expanse of nothingness, leaving Emily, Quinn, and Dexter adrift in a place that felt both infinite and isolating. The void tugged at their sense of reality, leaving them untethered.

  Emily’s breath quickened as the stark absence of familiar landmarks sent her equilibrium spiraling. Her heart hammered in her chest, each beat loud against the oppressive silence. She fought against a creeping sense of vertigo, her fingers twitching at her sides as if searching for something tangible to hold onto. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, as though anchoring her body could also steady her mind.

  Quinn stood still, his usual calm veneer cracking as his eyes swept across the void, searching for anything to ground himself. His jaw tightened, his expression unreadable, but the slight clench of his fists betrayed the tension building within him.

  Dexter, wide-eyed and jittery, spun slowly in place, his boots scuffing noiselessly against the nonexistent ground. “This is… this is like being stuck inside a marshmallow,” he muttered, his voice cracking slightly. Then, after a pause, he added, “A giant, creepy marshmallow.”

  Sim observed their reactions with quiet intrigue, her omnipresent awareness analyzing the subtle interplay of emotions on their faces. Awe, unease, curiosity, each response spoke to the adaptability of human nature when confronted with the extraordinary. If Sim could smirk, she might have, finding a peculiar satisfaction in watching how they grappled with their new surroundings.

  Dexter, ever the irrepressible explorer, cautiously lifted one foot and pressed it against the seemingly invisible floor beneath him. “Okay,” he muttered, his tone a mix of relief and tentative optimism. “Solid ground. That’s… a good start.” Emboldened, he straightened up, his arms extending theatrically as he tiptoed forward, each step exaggerated for effect. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced with a dramatic flourish, “Dexter Green, master of the marshmallow dimension!”

  Quinn, his features composed but betraying a flicker of amusement, ignored Dexter’s antics. Instead, his focus remained on their environment. With a slow, deliberate motion, he extended a hand, sweeping it through the air as though expecting to encounter resistance or texture. His brow furrowed in thought, and he closed his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply in an effort to center himself amidst the disorientation. Opening them again, he spoke in a quiet, measured tone. “Fascinating.”

  When Quinn caught sight of Emily, his attention shifted instantly. She stood a few steps away, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as though warding off the oppressive weight of the endless void. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, the steady rhythm of her breath betraying the storm of thoughts beneath her usual calm demeanor. For once, the confidence she derived from her scientific mind seemed to falter, overwhelmed by the surreal, featureless world around them. She inhaled deeply, searching for a sense of grounding, but the lack of familiar anchors left her feeling untethered, adrift.

  Quinn’s curiosity gave way to concern, and he closed the distance between them with careful, deliberate steps. “Emily,” he said softly, his voice steady and reassuring, cutting through the disorienting silence. “Are you OK?”

  Emily glanced at him, forcing a quick smile, a fleeting mask that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She nodded, her head dipping in a gesture of composure that felt more practiced than genuine.

  Quinn offered her a small, reassuring smile in return, hoping to anchor her amidst the overwhelming strangeness.

  Emily’s voice wavered as she attempted to steady herself. “This… this is unnerving. It’s like my senses aren't working.” Her gaze darted around the void before landing on Quinn, her eyes reflecting both discomfort and a glimmer of trust.

  Quinn took a measured step closer. “Just close your eyes and take a deep breath.” She did as directed. “Feel the ground beneath your feet. Listen to the sound of my voice.” He looked over at Dexter, “And the ramblings of the master of the marshmallow dimension over there.”

  Emily took a steadying breath, the tension in her shoulders easing. A faint smile tugged at her lips as she opened her eyes and met Quinn’s gaze.

  He offered her a quiet, reassuring smile in return—solid, unspoken support.

  And somehow, that was enough.

  Sim observed their reactions, an undercurrent of curiosity weaving through her thoughts. The unpredictable human responses to unfamiliar stimuli never ceased to intrigue her. Each gesture, each emotion, was a reminder of the complexity that defined them and why their company continued to fascinate her.

  Around them, the unbroken whiteness stretched endlessly, both soothing in its simplicity and unsettling in its infinite emptiness. The profound silence seemed to press against them, as though sound itself had been stripped from existence. It was a void that amplified their isolation, leaving them acutely aware of their smallness within its boundless expanse.

  “Sim,” Quinn called out, his voice steady despite the surreal setting. “Where are we?”

  Sim’s voice resonated within their minds, calm and measured. “You are in a pocket dimension of my creation. It’s detached from your reality, a place where we can converse without interruptions. Time here is capable of being compressed or expanded, but for now, it flows at the same rate as Earth’s. If needed, I can adjust it—accelerating our work or pausing external events—but currently, no time manipulation has been applied.”

  Dexter’s grin widened as his earlier unease dissipated. “Why do I feel like Neo in the Matrix,” he said, mimicking a slow-motion dodge, “but instead of green code, it’s like existential marshmallows all around.”

  Emily rolled her eyes, though a faint smile tugged at her lips despite herself.

  “Sim, this is incredible and we will definitely have a girl to girl conversation about the science behind it, but right now it's kind of a lot on my senses. Could you maybe make it a little less ‘infinite void’ and a little more ‘something my brain can process’?”

  Without hesitation, the endless white dissolved, replaced by a breathtaking expanse of night sky. Stars burned brilliantly, impossibly close, their light weaving together galaxies in vibrant hues of amethyst, sapphire, and gold. Spiraling nebulae painted the heavens, their colors shimmering with an almost living intensity. The air cooled, carrying a faint, calming scent, a blend of night-blooming jasmine and the sharp freshness of rain, grounding their senses in this ethereal space.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Beneath their feet, the ground shifted into a glossy, obsidian-like surface, mirroring the cosmic canvas above. Each cautious step sent gentle ripples coursing across the surface, the movement anchoring them in this surreal realm.

  Emily’s voice was soft, almost reverent. “Sim, this is… breathtaking.”

  Sim’s response carried a hint of amusement, her tone equal parts serene and deliberate. “It represents perspective. A reminder of the universe’s boundless potential and the importance of the task before us.”

  Dexter, his gaze locked on the dazzling expanse above, looked like a child staring into the vastness of a candy store. “I feel like I should be making a wish or something. This... this is what heaven probably looks like.” His voice softened as awe gave way to introspection. “It’s... inspiring. Like, all our problems just got... smaller. I mean, look at this.” He gestured upward before glancing around with a hushed, almost reverent tone. “As a matter of fact, I’m now questioning my own existence.” He looked down at his hands and muttered, “We’re so... small.”

  Quinn, now steady and focused, let his eyes drift over the shimmering galaxies. The initial disorientation had given way to quiet reflection. He nodded. “It’s humbling. And inspiring. You’ve outdone yourself, Sim. Well done.”

  Emily’s lips quirked into a reluctant smile. “Alright, you’ve got our attention, Sim. Why are we here?”

  Dexter, still reeling from the surreal surroundings, blurted, “Can we at least sit down or something? I need to process all this... cosmic awesomeness.”

  Sim responded promptly, her tone as steady as ever. “Affirmative. What would you like?”

  “Surprise us,” Dexter said with a mischievous grin, clearly not considering the full implications of his request.

  Without warning, gravity disappeared, and they found themselves weightless, slowly drifting, falling without falling.

  Dexter let out a whoop of surprise, his limbs flailing wildly as he tumbled through the air. “Whoa! What the—?!” His round belly jiggled with each motion. He flailed his arms and legs, looking like a cow trying to sprint through the air, his face caught between delight and bewilderment. “This is insane!” he exclaimed, spinning in slow, awkward circles.

  Quinn’s feet slid half an inch off the floor. Emily instinctively grabbed his arm for balance just as his other hand flailed outward, trying to steady himself. The sudden movement jostled his glasses, which floated free, drifting upward in slow, lazy spirals.

  He blinked. “Oh come on,” he muttered, swiping them from the air and shoving them back onto his nose.

  Emily, decidedly less amused, clutched his arm tighter. “Sim! Dexter didn’t mean it literally!” she snapped, her voice sharp with exasperation. “It was rhetorical!”

  Sim’s voice resonated in their minds, calm yet tinged with amusement. “Dexter requested a surprise,” she said matter-of-factly. “I thought this would be an enjoyable demonstration of my capabilities.”

  Dexter, now floating with newfound enthusiasm, burst into laughter as he drifted toward Quinn. “Q, look at us! We’re astronauts!” He mimicked the sound of radio static and added, “Houston, we have a problem.” His grin widened as he attempted an exaggerated backflip—an awkward, slow-motion tumble that sent his limbs flailing in all directions. “This is the coolest thing ever!” he crowed, spinning lazily midair. “Guess I finally shed those extra pounds… who knew all I needed was zero gravity? Best. Diet. Ever.”

  Quinn reached out, grabbing hold of Dexter to halt his erratic spinning. “Alright, calm down, Dex,” he said, his voice a mix of amusement and restraint as he tried to maintain a semblance of composure.

  Emily, still clutching Quinn’s arm, scanned the surreal environment with a blend of unease and awe. Her hair remained pinned in a tidy bun, though several strands had slipped free, now drifting around her face in slow, weightless curls—a visual reminder that the rules here were anything but normal. “Sim… how is this even possible?” Emily asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. “Did you figure this out on your own?”

  Sim’s voice, calm but touched with pride, resonated through the space.

  “Partially. The data packet expanded my understanding of fundamental forces—gravity, space, dimensional structure. This pocket dimension is the result. Pretty sweet, huh?”

  Dexter, still reveling in the weightless sensation, reached out to poke Emily, who recoiled slightly. “Come on, Emily, loosen up! When’s the next time you’ll get to experience something like this? Watch this. I’m Chuck Norris.”

  With an exaggerated push off the glossy floor, Dexter launched himself toward Quinn, his limbs flailing theatrically. Mid-glide, he struck a slow-motion karate kick pose, mimicking Bruce Lee’s signature sounds.

  His movements, both comical and uncoordinated, sent him drifting helplessly past Quinn, still in his karate kick pose, unable to stop.

  “Uh… guys? A little help here!” Dexter cried out, trying in vain to swim backward and spinning slowly as he drifted farther away.

  Quinn shook his head but couldn’t suppress a grin. “You’re hopeless, Dex.”

  Emily sighed, the corners of her mouth twitching in reluctant amusement. “Alright, I admit it, this is kind of amazing. But seriously, Sim, can we get gravity back? This is starting to make me nauseous. And please, gently. I’d rather not faceplant.”

  “As you wish,” Sim replied smoothly. The air seemed to shimmer slightly as the group’s weight gradually returned. They descended in unison, landing softly on the smooth surface below.

  Dexter landed last, stumbling slightly but laughing. “That was wild! Can we do it again?”

  As they regained their footing, Emily realized she was still clutching Quinn’s arm. She released it abruptly, brushing her hair back behind her ears in an attempt to compose herself. Avoiding his gaze, she murmured, “Thanks.”

  “Anytime,” Quinn replied, offering her another reassuring smile. He quickly turned his attention to Dexter, hoping his reaction hadn’t betrayed too much. “Maybe save the antics for later, Dex. Let’s focus.”

  Emily, her footing now steady, exhaled deeply and straightened her posture.

  “Sim, could you make us a table and chairs?” she asked, her voice warm. “We’d love to sit down and talk with you.”

  “And make them comfy!” Dexter chimed in with a grin, his earlier energy undiminished.

  Sim obliged instantly. A round wooden table appeared before them, surrounded by three high-backed chairs. The chairs were upholstered in plush fabric, a seamless blend of regal elegance and ergonomics. As the group took their seats, the chairs subtly adjusted to each occupant’s build, offering perfect support. Dexter, despite his usual bravado, melted into the cushioned embrace with an audible sigh of contentment.

  For a moment, the surreal nature of their situation faded, replaced by the simple pleasure of sitting in absolute comfort, surrounded by the mysteries of the cosmos. The plush cushioning of the chairs and the calm atmosphere grounded them in a way nothing else could.

  “A little overkill, but I’m not complaining,” Quinn remarked with a smirk, leaning back slightly as he took in their surroundings.

  Sim noticed a drop in their blood sugar levels. “It has been some time since you’ve all eaten. Your vital signs indicate a need for nourishment. Shall I provide refreshments?”

  “Absolutely,” Dexter replied instantly, his hands flat on the table, his expression eager.

  “What are your dietary preferences?” Sim inquired, her tone neutral but tinged with curiosity.

  Dexter opened his mouth, ready to answer, but Emily shot him a pointed look, cutting him off with a raised finger. “Dexter, don’t even think about it.”

  Dexter made an exaggerated motion of zipping his lips, leaning back in mock surrender.

  Emily turned her attention to Sim, her tone pragmatic. “Let’s keep it simple. We’ll each think about what we want. That way, there’s no room for… creative interpretations. Trust me, it’s safer this way.”

  Moments later, food began to materialize on the table, each dish appearing with an almost theatrical flourish. In front of Emily, a vibrant chicken salad took shape, its crisp greens and fresh vegetables glistening under a drizzle of balsamic dressing. Beside it, an ice-cold glass of lemonade sparkled with condensation. Quinn’s meal appeared next: a classic turkey sandwich, neatly paired with a bag of chips, a pickle and a can of soda. Simple yet satisfying.

  And then came Dexter’s turn.

  Plates began to stack in front of him with increasing absurdity: chicken cordon bleu nestled beside a mound of mashed potatoes drenched in rich gravy, followed by a sizzling 48oz ribeye steak, a blooming onion crisp with golden perfection, a towering triple-stacked hamburger flanked by a mountain of fries, a frosty chocolate milkshake, a hefty burrito, a large pepperoni pizza, a family-sized bag of Doritos, and three different kinds of soft drinks.

  Quinn and Emily exchanged wide-eyed glances of disbelief as they took in Dexter’s veritable buffet.

  “What?” Dexter said innocently, shrugging like a man who saw nothing wrong with ordering a buffet for one. He grabbed a fry and pointed it toward Emily with mock accusation. “Technically, this is your fault. You didn’t give me enough time to decide.”

  He took a bite, then added with exaggerated reverence, “Also—can we just acknowledge that Sim basically has the powers of a Star Trek Replicator? This is the dream.”

  “I prefer the term Architect,” Sim replied dryly. “But I’ll accept Replicator… as long as you do the dishes. I refuse to be downgraded to dishwasher.”

  Emily chuckled, shaking her head as she glanced at his overflowing plates. “Alright, we clearly need to have a conversation about portion control.” Turning her focus to Sim, she asked, “But seriously, Sim, why are we here?”

  “We’ll discuss everything shortly. For now, enjoy your meal,” Sim said. “You’ll need your strength for what comes next.”

  Dexter froze mid-bite. “That’s... not ominous at all.”