The magenta sunset gave Marke a headache. When the area grew dark, lights flickered to life on every booth and ride, turning the fair into a psychedelic disco. The number of people at the fair didn''t decline much, but there were no more children-size people running around. Marke noticed a disturbance in the crowd ahead of him. A person wearing clothing with glowing white panels on the front and back strode through the crowd like a shark through a school of fish. Marke saw the first instance of shoving at the fair as the crowd pressed hard to get out of the path of the glowing person. Someone stumbled and fell to the ground with a shout of dismay. The glowing person bent down as quick as a striking snake and tore the name tag off the person on the ground. The now nameless person shrieked in agony. The glowing person straightened up and continued walking, stepping on the downed person.


    "Let''s run away. Away from that person." Kente suggested. Marke agreed and ducked into a dark space between two booths. He didn''t stay to hide and instead kept retreating, putting as much distance as he could between himself and that glowing predator without drawing attention to himself.


    "Perfect. Just perfect. The fun never ends." Marke said sarcastically. "If someone takes our name tag, no way the ticket person will let us have another." Marke said.


    "We can hide our tag, though." Kente said. "If we get cornered, I can hide the tag and maybe they will ignore us or just take our tickets."


    "Yeah, or maybe they will just kill us." Marke said. We need somewhere safe to sleep. How many tickets do you imagine that will cost?"


    "I don''t know, man. I''m worried that we have no plan to get more tickets. We don''t even have enough tickets for another drink and hot dog at this point." Kente said. "we need a plan or we''ll starve before anyone can steal our name tag."


    "I hate this place!" Marke half-shouted. A few of the people around him grunted in annoyance or agreement.


    <hr>


    Marke and Kente wandered through the nighttime fair for a few hours. They avoided three more glowing predators and Marke got some advice from a giraffe person for four tickets. There was, apparently, a number of booths around the fair that would buy painful memories from fair-goers. Marke found a booth that matched the description from the giraffe person and approached the front.


    "Step right up!" Marke thought the person was one of the ticket people at first, but a forked snake tongue flicked out to taste the air and the person winked an eye with a vertical slit. "Selling some painful memories? Minimum level of pain equals minimum number of tickets, five!" The snake person said. "More pain means more tickets."If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    "What kinds of pain do you accept?" Marke asked.


    "Oh we take all kinds!" The person answered. "Burning, drowning, acid, hunger, broken limbs, heartbreak, you name it! Anything unpleasant enough is a painful experience!"


    Can I sell the memory of watching you melt? Kente asked.


    "Do I keep the memories after?" Marke asked.


    "You keep your memories, but you might find them fuzzy or dull. Keeps you from selling the same memory twice. Do you have one in mind?" The snake person asked.


    "Um, yes. How does it work?" Marke asked.


    The snake person slid a few things around inside the booth, muttering. "Found it. Here you go." The person slid a black panel out the front of the booth. A white outline of a five fingered hand was the only thing on the panel. "Put your hand on the panel and try very hard to remember the entire memory. Intact memories are worth more tickets!"


    Ready to try? Marke asked Kente. Ready. Kente replied. Marke put his hand on the panel. He felt a touch of fatigue as something drained out of him. A bell rang and the Snake person whistled. The whistle sounded more like a hiss than a whistle.


    "Yuck! That memory is worth four hundred tickets!" The snake person waved a hand and a folded stack of tickets appeared in it which they handed to Marke. Marke stuffed the tickets in the pocket of his pants.


    "Can I sell another?" He asked.


    The snake person shook their head. "One memory per day or you get side effects. Side effect memories are not accepted, no matter how painful. Thanks for playing!" The snake person waved Marke off.


    "Did that help?" Marke asked Kente. "Maybe." Kente said. "The memory is definitely still there, but it doesn''t seem to pull as hard any more. I wonder what those side effects might be, I have a bunch of other memories to sell."


    "Let''s not get overconfident again." Marke warned. "I''m hungry." Marke found the next concession stand and tried to buy a nice looking sandwich, but got turned down after the worker checked his level.


    "Minimum level five for that item. Next!" The human-looking person waved Marke away.


    Disappointed, Marke walked until he found a stand selling hot dogs. There was apparently no minimum level for hot dogs. "How do I get more levels?" Marke asked the worker.


    The worker frowned and looked down at Marke''s bare feet. "You''ve died at least twice and you''re back to level one. You know how to get levels. Don''t waste my time." Marke muttered an apology and walked quickly away.


    "Thoughts?" Marke said.


    "Hmmm." Kente said. "The name tag I have got a level when it merged with the second name tag. Maybe we have to steal name tags like those glowing predators. Do we need more levels? Hot dogs and blood soda will probably keep us alive for a while."


    Marke thought for a while. "I don''t want to drink blood soda again." He said.


    "Priority One: Blood soda is gross?" Kente said.


    Marke nodded. "We need to steal some name tags." He said. "Without getting killed by a squid person with ninety-eight levels."


    Unfortunately, they didn''t come up with a plan to safely steal name tags before Marke had to buy another blood soda to deal with his thirst.