Somebody has decided to put The East Rail all the way over there.

The distance is unreasonable but it looks like the kind of place where no one will bother you.

You pass The Long Table.

You pass the weird, rickety-looking miner’s shaft in the center of the plaza. As you get closer, you realize the structure is more substantial than it seemed from far away. Heavy metal beams create an impassable cage around it. You lean as close as you can to the cage to peer into the void below. It reveals no additional secrets.

Then you pass The Touchstone.

Then you keep walking because somebody apparently designed the breadth of this tower to be too big for its owners.

Some of the ground appears to be metal.

Other parts illuminate those same clear water pipes through ballistic glass under your feet.

The ocean is visible on the horizon beyond the Destination you’re heading to.

The sun is climbing over the water in the distance, scattering fractured light in every direction.

As you approach The East Rail, there’s a small open kitchen operating under a veranda.

Two cooks face away from you and focus on their work.

A third spots you.

She gives you a silent nod towards a sign next to the kitchen:

FIND SOMEWHERE TO SIT.
WE’LL BRING BREAKFAST TO YOU.
EVERY BREAKFAST ARRIVES WITH A TEMPORARY FRIEND.

There is no menu.

There are many enormous, unnecessarily mechanical chairs. They look to have soft cushions on them.

The cook who nodded at you is now also focusing.

The ocean is on the other side of a railing thriving with green flora.

You sit down in one of the chairs.

The cushions are in fact soft.