Chapter 16
The next few hours, days, weeks? are filled with neon dreams. Dwarf slave labor toils away in forbidden, eldritch mines under the harsh whips of network weathermen. A seventy-foot-tall gnome forged from used magazines, ancient DVDs, and duct tape chases bedraggled elven refugees across a river into a forest of glass and steel. Death, astride a pale horse, canters up to souls built into a wailing wall of flesh and asks them if they have the time to take a marketing survey. “On a scale of one to ten,” he says, “with one being one and ten being ten, how would you rate your current situation?” A familiar laugh comes from everywhere at once.
Above it all, a monochrome cat with a glassy-eyed smile grins benevolently down. It wears a clown nose. It waves its hands in a complicated fa
