The first sign that Millhaven might not be an ideal camping spot was the fact that half of it was upside down.
August stood at the crest of a hill, consulting his map and then looking down at what remained of the town, then back at his map, then down at the town again.
"Well," he said to himself, "Marcus did mention that buildings sometimes move."
What had once been a modest settlement was now an exercise in creative architecture. Some buildings sat normally on the ground, looking perfectly reasonable. Others hung suspended in mid-air, as if gravity had simply forgotten they existed. A few were embedded in the hillside at impossible angles, their chimneys poking out of solid rock. And one particularly ambitious structure appeared to be growing out of a tree, its windows blinking like sleepy eyes.
"You know what?" August said, adjusting his pack straps. "I respect the commitment to urban renewal."
His Foundation monitor was still displaying a steady blue pulse, though he'd noticed it occasionally flickering to green when he looked directly at some of the more architecturally creative buildings. According to Maya's briefing, green meant his Foundation was actively adapting to environmental stresses.
"Adaptive immunity for the win," he said cheerfully, starting down the hill toward the town. "Whatever's going on here, once I experience it, I'll be immune to it forever. It's like a really weird vaccination program."
The road to Millhaven was paved with stones that shifted color as he walked over them—blue to purple to a shade of orange that probably didn't have a name. Occasionally, one of the stones would emit a soft chiming sound, as if the road was composing a very slow, very strange song.
"Musical pavement," August noted in his journal. "Definitely not in the original city planning manual."
As he got closer to the town, he could see that the reality storm had been quite thorough in its redecorating efforts. Street lamps grew like flowers from impossible positions. A fountain in the town square flowed upward, its water forming a perfect spiral that disappeared into a patch of sky that was a different color from the rest.
"This is actually pretty beautiful," August said, genuinely impressed. "Like someone took a normal town and put it through a kaleidoscope. A kaleidoscope with commitment issues."
He consulted his temporal stabilizer. According to the device, time in Millhaven was flowing at roughly 0.8 normal speed, with occasional spikes to 1.3 and one memorable dip to what appeared to be negative time, though that reading lasted only a few seconds.
"Okay, so time is more of a suggestion here. Good to know."
August picked his way carefully through the town's main street, which curved in directions that made his eyes water. Most of the buildings appeared to be structurally sound, despite their unconventional orientations. A few even had lights in the windows, suggesting either inhabitants or very optimistic electrical systems.
He was examining a shop sign that read "BAKERY" in letters that kept rearranging themselves when he heard voices.
Human voices.
Coming from the upside-down building that used to be the town hall.
"Hello?" August called out. "Anyone in there?"
"Down here!" came a cheerful reply. "Or up here, depending on your perspective!"
August walked around the building until he found what might charitably be called an entrance—a door that opened onto the sky, with a ladder leading down into the building's inverted interior.
He climbed down carefully and found himself in a cozy room where three people sat around a table, drinking tea as if sitting on the ceiling was the most natural thing in the world.
"Visitor!" said a woman with silver hair and laugh lines around her eyes. "How delightful! We don't get many tourists since the storm."
"I can imagine," August said, trying to adjust to the vertigo of being in an upside-down room. "I'm August. I was planning to camp here for the night, if that's okay."
"Of course, of course! I'm Clara, this is my husband Robert, and this is our friend Jim." Clara gestured to the other two—Robert was a quiet man with kind eyes, and Jim appeared to be missing his left arm, though he seemed remarkably cheerful about it.
"Lost it in the storm," Jim explained, noticing August's glance. "Reached out to steady myself against a wall, and the wall decided it was actually a door to somewhere else. Arm went through, door closed, arm stayed on the other side. Very clean separation, really. Hardly hurt at all."
"That's… I'm sorry that happened," August said.
"Oh, don't be! It was quite an adventure. Plus, now I can tell people I'm literally disarmed." Jim grinned at his own joke. "The arm still waves to me sometimes, from wherever it ended up. Through windows, mostly. Very polite arm, considering."
August sat down in the offered chair, which was bolted to what used to be the floor but was now the ceiling. "You all stayed here after the reality storm?"
"Where else would we go?" Robert asked, speaking for the first time. His voice was soft, thoughtful. "This is our home. The storm just… redecorated."
"Besides," Clara added, pouring August a cup of tea that defied gravity by flowing upward into the cup, "it's actually quite peaceful once you adjust. No crime, no traffic, very low cost of living. The only real problem is mail delivery."
"The postal service refuses to deliver to buildings that aren't right-side up," Jim explained. "Very narrow-minded of them, really."
August sipped his tea, which tasted like normal tea despite the circumstances. "How do you handle food? Supplies?"
"Oh, the storm was quite considerate about that," Clara said. "The general store is still accessible, and the food doesn't spoil anymore. Time distortion, you see. Most things are preserved in temporal stasis. We've been eating the same loaf of bread for six months now, and it's as fresh as the day it was baked."
"That's… actually quite convenient."
"Very! Though we do miss variety. Been thinking about asking that Solvain fellow to swing by and fix things, but he's always so busy with the serious problems."
August nearly choked on his tea. "Arthur Solvain? You know him?"
"Oh, everyone in the zones knows Arthur," Robert said. "He passed through here just after the storm, made sure we were all safe. Lovely man, very polite. Offered to fix everything, but we told him not to bother. We're quite comfortable as we are."
"He… offered to fix a reality storm?"
"Well, yes. That's what he does, isn't it? Fixes impossible things." Clara refilled August's cup. "Are you looking for him, dear? Most people who come through the zones are."
"I am, actually. Do you know where I might find him?"
The three residents exchanged glances.
"He moves around quite a bit," Jim said carefully. "But if you're determined to find him, I'd suggest heading deeper southeast. There's been a lot of activity in the deep zones lately. Forsaken incursions, reality breaks, that sort of thing. Arthur tends to show up wherever the problems are worst."
"How much deeper southeast are we talking?"
"Oh, another forty kilometers or so. Past the Singing Desert and through the Contradiction Forest." Clara made it sound like giving directions to the local grocery store. "Just follow the road until it stops making sense, then keep going in the same direction until it makes sense again."
"The road stops making sense?"
"About thirty kilometers from here, the road gets philosophical," Robert explained. "Starts asking questions about the nature of existence, the purpose of travel, whether destinations are real or just concepts we impose on geography. Very tiresome, really."
August stared at them. "The road… talks?"
"Oh yes. Reality storm gave it opinions. It's quite chatty once you get it started, though it does tend to ramble about metaphysics." Jim stood up and walked to a cabinet—or rather, walked on the ceiling to a cabinet that was mounted on what used to be the floor. "You'll want these."
He handed August a pair of what looked like earplugs made of crystallized light.
"Philosophical dampeners," Jim explained. "They won't stop the road from talking, but they'll make it sound less convincing. Prevents existential crises."
"The road can cause existential crises?"
"Oh my, yes. Poor fellow last month got convinced he didn't actually exist. Took us three hours to talk him back into reality." Clara shook her head sympathetically. "The road means well, but it's not very good with people."
August pocketed the philosophical dampeners. "Any other advice for the journey?"
"Don't trust the signposts in the Contradiction Forest," Robert said. "They point in all directions simultaneously and get very upset if you suggest that's not helpful."
"The Singing Desert only sings at night," Clara added. "During the day, it just hums. Very pleasant, really, though the lyrics can be a bit existentially challenging."
"And if you do find Arthur," Jim said, his expression becoming more serious, "be polite. He's been under a lot of stress lately, what with all the reality maintenance and Forsaken management. Sometimes he forgets how to talk to people properly."
August finished his tea and prepared to leave. The Millhaven residents had offered him a place to stay for the night, but he was feeling energized and optimistic about his progress. The zones were certainly strange, but they were also kind of wonderful in their own way. And everyone he'd met so far had been friendly and helpful.
"Thank you for the tea and the advice," he said, climbing back up the ladder to ground level.
"Safe travels!" Clara called after him. "And do give Arthur our regards if you see him!"
August walked back through Millhaven's creatively rearranged streets, feeling quite pleased with himself. His first day in the Disputed Zones had been educational, scenic, and full of interesting people. His Foundation was handling the environmental stresses beautifully, and he was making good time toward his goal.
"This is going great," he told himself as he left the town behind and continued southeast toward the Singing Desert. "Zone exploration is actually quite manageable once you get the hang of it. Just a matter of staying flexible and keeping an open mind."
Behind him, Millhaven settled into its evening routine. Above him, the layered sky began its slow transition from day colors to night colors. And ahead of him, the road stretched onward toward increasingly improbable terrain.
August whistled as he walked, perfectly content with his progress and completely confident in his ability to handle whatever the zones might throw at him next.
After all, what could possibly go wrong?