I collected myself and rose to my feet in the meadow. When I did so, I noticed my mysterious glowing orb lying on the ground nearby. I was quite pleased; the orb means a great deal to me. I popped my right pinky finger loose and called the orb to me. It floated up and slid into my digital cavity, and I replaced my finger.
I looked around. I was surrounded by springy turf, relatively flat, with ankle-high, pale green grass. The area was completely featureless, save for a one-story brick building perhaps a half-mile away from me. The sky was completely overcast, but notably fish-free. So either the fish were gone, or I was in an area not affected by whatever was causing them.
I began walking to the building. As I drew nearer, I saw it to be identical to the one I had ducked into to avoid the small dogs back when I was on my way to work. I started circling the building as I approached it, looking for the door that I knew would be there. I found it on the opposite side.
The sign on the door said, “Restricted! Authorized personnel only.” I took the knob and tried it. It was unlocked, and I pulled the door open.
I was rather startled to see a solid wall of small dogs of indeterminate breed, oddly silent. The doorway was completely filled with them. There was a groaning sound as the wall of dogs accustomed itself to this new opening. The door frame began to shudder ever so slightly, and I got the hell out of the way.
Mere instants after I had stepped aside, a voluminous cascade of small dogs erupted from the doorway. This went on for several minutes, as thousands upon thousands of dogs came pouring out onto the meadow. Such was the strength of the flow that I was caught up in a ten-foot high wave of dogs and carried a hundred yards away from the building before they started to spread out. Eventually, the flow stopped, the density decreased to about one animal per square foot, and the meadow was carpeted to the horizon with small, quiet dogs.
Shrugging, I stood up and picked my way back to the building. Peering through the door, I was unsurprised to see the street on my way to work where the dogs had first appeared. Instinctively, I knew that it was the same morning, and I still had to go to work. “Typical,” I muttered.
I stepped through the door and closed it behind me. Glancing back, I was not surprised to see that it was the same door I had used to escape the dogs in the first place. I was tempted to open the door again and see where it led, but I decided not to.
I was about to continue on my way to work when I noticed one of the small dogs sitting nearby. Immediately, I began looking for others, but there was only the one. On an impulse, I knelt down and held out my hand. Without hesitation, the dog got up and trotted over. We began to make friends, but she (for it was indeed a female) was preoccupied with my right pinky finger. Shrugging, I popped it open. After a sniff or two at the opening, the dog crawled inside. I could feel her pawing around for a bit, and then she lay down and was still.
Figuring she would let me know when she wanted out, I replaced my right pinky finger, stood up, and went on my way.
The sky was still full of fish.
Ethan Abides 