Marke exited the tunnel and entered the demon realm. Right in front of the tunnel, Marke encountered a large box with an open section starting about waist hight. A flap extended out from the top of the box, shading the interior from the neon magenta sunlight. Above the large box, a placard stood on two short poles with some writing.


    “Tickets.” Marke read aloud.


    “That’s right, bucko! Step right up and get your free* name tag!” A person with a big smile and scaly blue skin wearing a black leather cowboy hat stood inside the ticket booth. They pulled out a stack of paper tickets and began fanning themself with it. “Once you have a name tag you can trade for tickets. Step right up!”


    I know you heard that asterisk on the word ‘free’. Kente thought to Marke.


    “Trade with what?” Marke asked the person.


    “Step right up!” The person replied. They put down the tickets and began to fan themself with their leather hat. “Get your free* name tag! Step right up.”


    “Uh…” Marke said.


    “That’s right, bucko!” The person said. “Step right up!”


    Maybe we need to step right up to the ticket booth. Kente suggested. Marke stepped forward to stand right in front of the ticket booth.


    “That’s right, bucko!” The person said again. “Here’s your free* name tag!” The person slid a paper rectangle across to Marke. The paper had written on it: “My name is:” with a blank line underneath. With everything in this realm up till now being the way it was, Marke was deeply suspicious of the piece of paper. “Flip it over.” He told the person. The person, without any change in expression, flipped the name tag over. The back was covered with very tiny wording. Marke leaned down to try and read it. “What language is this?” He asked. The text was no alphabet Marke had ever seen and he couldn’t tell if it read right to left or top to bottom.


    The person flipped the name tag back over. “Can’t get tickets without a name tag! Step right up!” The person replaced their hat and resumed fanning themself with the stack of tickets.


    I think this “person” can only say a few lines. Kente said. I agree. Marge thought back. He looked past the ticket stand to see if there was anyone else to talk to. The air just past the ticket booth was hazy and Marke could only see indistinct shapes in wildly clashing colors. After a moment’s hesitation, Marke held his arms out and walked slowly at the haze. His hands hit resistance immediately. He tried forcing his way through but found no give in the barrier. Marke followed the barrier around from the side of the ticket booth to the stone wall behind him, then repeated the search on the opposite side of the ticket booth. Finding nothing, he stepped up to the ticket window again.


    “Can’t get tickets without a name tag! Here’s your free* name tag!” The ticket person slid the blank name tag across to Marke. Marke tried to grab the person’s hand, but, instead of feeling scaly skin, Marke felt searing pain and heard arcing electricity. His vision went black.


    <hr>


    Marke woke up back in the pale yellow cave, feeling very disoriented. “What?” He said thickly. “Kente?”


    “Just… no. Not right now.” Kente replied. He sounded really unhappy, so Marke left him alone.


    Marke looked around the cave. Same vanilla pudding stone, same tunnel. He looked at himself. He hadn’t paid attention to the clothes before, but the hands looked the same. Marke took a moment to examine his clothing. He wore pants and a button up shirt in the same color as the walls of the cave, only a few shades darker. While he waited for Kente, Marke rolled his sleeves up above his elbows. He didn’t have any shoes. Did I have shoes last time? He wondered.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    As the time dragged on, Marke began to worry that something was seriously wrong with Kente. He didn’t want to invade Kente’s space, however, so he went through a priority check himself. Priority One: Kente might be suffering. He really wanted a body. He really wants a body. Priority Two: Do not grab the ticket booth worker. Priority Three: Self Care. Self care, Self care… I just did tai chi twice in a row not so long ago. I’ll do some pushups and stuff. Priority Four: postponed. Marke rolled over on his front and began doing some pushups. He managed about ten sub-par pushups before he needed to stop. He switched to crunches, then tried doing handstands up against the cave wall.


    “Ok.” Kente said after Marke’s fourth collapse to the floor. “Listen. You died.”


    “Yeah…” Marke said.


    “Just. Listen.” Kente said. “You died. It was terrifying, yes, but most of all, it was disgusting. We knew we could die and we have that incarnation pool to pay for deaths, so I’ll be fine once I get used to it. The problem is that you burned your skin black… then bubbled… and melted… before you were ‘dead’ enough, apparently. It was gross. I can’t even vomit so I had to deal with the disgust mentally. Gross.”


    “Yikes.” Marke said.


    “Priority One: Warn Kente of risk of non-instantaneous death so Kente doesn’t have to watch.” Kente said.


    “Roger that.” Marke said.


    “Got any thoughts about how to proceed in this realm?” Kente asked.


    “Um, yeah. I think we have to take the name tag. The whole ticket booth and name tag thing is more sophisticated than boxes that pop up in front of my face. The people who built this realm are serious and seem to be more professional that the previous ones. Maybe that’s why it needed so much funding, I don’t know.” Marke felt himself begin to ramble. He really felt bad about Kente’s situation, but felt powerless to help.


    “Ok. Let’s go, then.” Kente sounded unenthusiastic.


    Marke walked out the tunnel, avoiding the message banners and rolling through the terms and conditions again. He walked up to the ticket booth.


    “Welcome back! Step right up! Here’s your free* name tag!” The blue scaly person greeted Marke with the same big smile as they slid a blank name tag across. Marke picked up the name tag. He flinched as a static shock zapped his fingers. The ticket person held out a pen. Grabbing the pen. Probably won’t shock me if I don’t touch the person. Just a heads-up. Marke thought to Kente. Marke took the pen gingerly and was grateful to receive no electric death.


    With pen in hand, Marke looked at the blank line where he was meant to write his name. I’m gonna… try and break this. I don’t see why goofing around with the name tag would result in death. Just a heads-up. He thought. Understood. Kente replied. Marke drew a scribble on the line for his name. The scribble disappeared and Marke’s hand spasmed in pain. “Ow! Ahhhh…” Marke dropped the pen and clutched his hand to his chest. You ok? Kente thought to him. Marke took a deep breath and shook out his hand. I’m fine. That hurt but it’s gone now. I… don’t like this place. Marke thought back.


    Marke retrieved the fallen pen and contemplated the name tag again. I’m gonna try again. He thought to Kente. Are you sure? Kente thought back. Yes. If it’s worse this time, I’ll just write a name and get past here. Marke wrote “I’m with stupid” Near the top of the name tag. He screamed as his whole arm twisted and vibrated in pain. Marke sat down and held his arm for a while, just breathing. When he was read, he picked up the pen and wrote “Priority One” on the line. The name tag yanked itself out of his hand and slapped onto the front of his shirt on the left breast.


    “That’s right, bucko! Step right in! Welcome to the fair!” The ticket person waved their hand and the haze behind the ticket booth disappeared. Marke could see a huge expanse of booths, tents, rides, and people. So many people, all different sizes, shapes, colors, and number of limbs. The noise of the crowd hit him a moment later like a crashing wave.


    “Holy hell.” Kente said. “Ha! Get it?”


    “What?” Marke asked, confused.


    “Because of the funding? Demons and… I don’t know. Archangels? Holy hell.” Kente explained. Marke just chuckled and shook his head.