My consciousness was sucked into the vortex, ceasing to exist before assembling itself anew, this time in my own body.
I instantly knew that whatever the fuck the paranoia had served me had been nothing more than lies... with the exception of X, Y, and Z—the question and its answers that had helped me find my way out of the thirst for fake control and the compulsive intake of false facts.
One of my legs felt strange, as if all my weight was placed on it, and I snapped my eyes open.
Huh...
One twisted joke was haunting the next, as it seemed.
I looked at the orange sandstorm around me before making the mistake of looking down.
I was standing with one leg on the tip of a... I don't even know what this is, a cone-like, very high, black metal thing, looking like a smooth thorn.
At a distance of a few meters were other giant thorns, their tips so sharp that it should be impossible for me to stand on top of one of them.
