This is Ishmael. Here, the Muslims, Jews, Maltese Catholics, and Oriental Orthodox Christians are superpowers.
In the street, a lavender Porsche sits parked. As you might expect, it's brand-new. It's certainly no G.I.'s car. And it's certainly not the car you'd expect a ground force buck private to drive.
The Porsche is parked just outside of Gasper Manor. This home once belonged to a great Jewish family. Jewish cripples once recuperated in its bedrooms. They once bathed in its showers. They once swam in its pool...both for hydrotherapy, and for their own souls. One could've sworn that Jewish saints and angels enchanted the home's nourishment.
Now, only one lives here...with her sole live-in page. He's a gentile. But then, she's got gentiles in her family. Most of them were German. A few of the more recent ones were Michiganders.
Just inside the front door, Mrs. Gasper raises the blinds of a big window. From outside, one can see the lavender Porsche parked in the street. Its German-built magnificence is almost impossible to overlook.
Charles, her Valdostan (i.e. Northwest Italian)-descended pageboy, stands before her. He seems nervous...and a bit overwhelmed. His boss has just asked him to make the car part of his everyday responsibilities.
"I," he stammers, "don't know about this. This...seems rushed."
She stands behind him...habitually adjusting her hair and top, admiring him. He could be her son...and yet, she's having a harder and harder time, as they days pass, repressing her crush on him.
"Just prove to me that you deserve it," she insists. "I've seen you work." She straightens out the back of his grey tee for him. "I know you can."
"So... Where are the car's records? Does it need an oil change?"
"Don't worry about that. I need a few errands run. I'd like for you to run them in the Porsche. Wait here while I get the list."
She goes upstairs to get the list. In her absence, Charles keeps ogling out the window. It is a VERY nice car. He still can't believe his boss is trusting him with its care. He's just as much trying to figure out how the hell she seems to think he's the man for the job...when he's barely a man at all...let alone ground force material...
Moments later, he's driving through the suburbs...in the Porsche. Never in his life has he felt more like a blonde bimbo from the San Fernando Valley... That's not too far from here, actually... He feels like a val gal...
Ironically, Charles once had a girlfriend like that. Her name was Sonya. Alas, she liked him more than he did her. Seems like a lot of girls do that, in fact... Charles isn't gay; he's just waiting for the right girl to come along.
Lately, he's been seeing a lot of sexual inspiration in a lot of black girls. LA's sure got a fascinating selection of black chicks who look good in orange... Charles wouldn't mind picking a few of them up...if only he didn't need his job with Mrs. Gasper more...
On the sidewalk, a few black women walk. They dress like sluts, and wear mostly orange. Their hair is brown and curled. They smile and wave, as Charles passes them.
Charles blushes. They intimidate him, somehow. He knows they shouldn't; a man is supposed to be brave in the presence of gorgeous women. Lucky for him, though, Mrs. Gasper doesn't seem like the jealous type. But then, it shouldn't matter, even if she is. First of all, she's married. Second of all, Charles would have to be a fool to think that Mrs. Gasper's the woman for him. She's more than twice his age, after all.
Up ahead, Charles sees a strange haze. It might just be his eyesight, but... He creeps forth and drives towards it. As he does, he leans forth, and squints...
A strange feeling comes over him, as he approaches. Part of him senses he shouldn't do this. And yet, another part of him wants to, more than anything in the world... Even find a black girlfriend worth chasing...
This is the Summer Dimension. It's a world of deserts and Mediterranean coasts. Here, it's summer for half the year...and then autumn for three months, and spring for another three. Winter never happens...and nights are so short, they're never noticed.
This particular part of the Summer Dimension resembles the Namib deserts. The land is similar...as is some of the fauna.
Across the skies, solos, pairs, and flights of SOF warplanes often fly. There are many SOFs in the Summer Dimension. They share this world with ground forces and air forces that're only half as strong...on average.
Across the barren land, squads, platoons, and companies of light tanks, infantry carrier vehicles, and/or mortar carriers move. They leave their tread marks in the sand, while doing so. In this world, SOF units travel lightly...although they're all posted to battalions, regiments, and/or divisions that have their own forts throughout this world's deserts.
Many of the SOF forts here have beacons; the kind that have grates. A few, though, are gas-powered. Just as many are electro-mechanical.
Most of the highways are two-lane and run atop prolonged hills that extend for clicks and clicks. Every now and then, one passes a "springbok crossing" sign, while traveling them. And those are just the most frequent of such signs. There are also crossing signs for steenboks, kudus, roans, gemsboks, and waterbucks.
Somewhere on the left side of such a highway, a portal opens. Through it, Mrs. Gasper's Porsche drives. It doesn't take the driver long to slow down and pull over. By the time he has, the portal is long-gone. He's so overwhelmed by the newness of his new situation he hasn't yet noticed that the portal left him on the left side of the road. (As someone who lives in LA, of course, he's used to driving on the RIGHT side of the road.)
Atop a faraway hill, a beacon light itself. Though far away, one can see the top of this hill from this part of the highway.
From the Porsche, Charles alights. He runs around and looks around. He cups his hands over his mouth, and shouts for guidance.
Alas, it seems useless. There's no one around. From where Charles is, he can hear tank motors and warplane engines... Alas, he can't see what makes those noises.
Nearby, a few brown hyenas top a hill. They look down upon Charles and watch him distress. They seem confused by his behavior. At the same time, they can also tell he's no native.
It's almost a shame that he isn't, though. He might fit right in, here. Time would tell...if only he planned to stay.
It's bound to happen...and it does. Charles sees the beacon. One prolonged stare later, and something in the beacon's light has possessed him. At this, he calms. At this, he has a hunch.
He now knows where to go. He should probably question his reasons for going... Even so, the beacon's spell has him in a trance. Hence, he has an excess of faith and trust in his hunch. It's very powerful. Again, he should be more worried.
He leaves the highway and the Porsche and sets off in the direction that the beacon leads him. The...beacon seems to move, as he does... Charles could just be imagining this... Then again, he's still trying to figure out if he's just imagining the Summer Dimension, or if he's really trapped inside it...
Nearby, the hyenas sneeze, turn, and lumber away. If there's anything to see here, it's about to leave.
In everyone's absence, a spell comes over the Porsche. One nth at a time, it shrivels to the size of a toy car...and then shrivels a little more.
Deeper into these deserts, there are badlands. Their ravines and gullies seem to whisper. The whispering sounds spooky, to visitors who don't know what it is. Alas, most natives still don't know what it is.
It's apparent that there aren't many natives...with the various antelope skulls lying around being the main indicator. A lot of these skulls look like they once belonged to prehistoric specimens.
A ship-sized skull lies in one of the bigger ravines. Its owner had tusks...as well as horns. At least its teeth, though, were still those of an herbivore's. Seems strange, though, that herbivorous species in the Summer Dimension would get that big... But then, they probably made up for their overly pacifist nature by having a lot of testosterone issues...possibly including musth...
It might've been a kaiju... Funny thing, though; if Japan is a desert nation, no one's ever told me. Hell, Manchuria was more likely to be a desert nation than Japan. Alas, I'd hate to think that THAT'S why Japan was so obsessed with conquering the Manchus' land, back when the 20th century was still young, and WWII hadn't even been born yet...
Surrounded by these badlands, there's a cave opening. Within the shadows it casts, the whispering gets louder. In some of its depths, it even croons. Alas, its whispering is indecipherable to most ears.
Famine magic frequents these badlands...as do banishment magic, barrier magic, sand magic, mnemonic magic, and leopard magic. Deathforce magic does, too. Some of the local hyenas, in fact, are Deathforce magi...of sorts. They, along with a lot of local cat, civet, and mongoose species, are Deathforce kneazels (i.e. magical feliform species). These badlands don't see many zombies...but they do see ghosts. Or rather, they HEAR ghosts. In fact, THAT'S probably what's whispering, as of now...
Along the ravines and gullies, a harlequin-glowing honeyguide hops along. Normally, he'd lead some of the natives to honey. Tonight, though, he's doing a favor for a visitor...if the visitor would come out calling it a favor.
Charles follows the honeyguide to the cave opening. He hesitates, once he gets to the threshold. It's a deep dark hole. From inside, the ghosts whisper. Their whispers are strange and creepy...and get louder as one gets closer to the cave entrance. Charles imagines that they'll be deafening, by the time he gets down there.
Within the shadows, a harlequin-glowing orb hovers. The honeyguide, meanwhile, has dimmed and moved on. Shit; the beacon wants Charles to go right where he doesn't want to. But then, what would happen if he didn't? He's stuck in an alternate reality with no way home. Plus, Mrs. Gasper sent him to do some errands. If this gets him back to the real world sooner, he's got to take that chance.
So, trying to ignore the creepiness of it all, Charles ventures forth. And yes, the whispers do get louder. But at least the orb keeps guiding him...so he knows he's going the right way. He has no idea where this orb comes from, or what its sender wants with him... Even so, he doesn't know how he feels about settling in the Summer Dimension. He doesn't even know if this creepy world would take him.
Half of him will want this creepy world to take him...as soon as he meets who's sending the harlequin beacons.