Not three minutes later, another door of shadow cut itself through reality. It slowly crept open, and the tall man waltzed through. Inky tendrils of darkness curled from the slender man’s back, swirling above and around him. They seemed to made of the same material as his suit. The tall man adjusted his suit as the last officers cleared the building. Every member of staff, every guest, and everyone in between had been herded off into a section unceremoniously guarded by several personnel with weapons. The twenty cubes arranged in geometric patterns began to crackle with energy, seemingly waiting for some unknown event. The slender man surveyed the crowd menacingly, stalking over to the commanders.
Continue with this if you must, the tall man told them. But don’t be surprised if the results are less satisfactory than you’d hoped. The lead commander rolled his three eyes and gritted his teeth, muttering to the tall man to step aside. The commander stepped forward and raised a hand, yelling to everyone present. “Set the spectrum to red!” Twenty personnel ran forwards, adjusting the machinery in the cubes. Their kaleidoscopic lights diffused into a singular red color that crackled and blared into the sky, trailing in a circular image across the ground. “Dock your Horizon Rifles!” The twenty personnel took out sleek black rifles and plunged them into the cubes, red light and power surging across them. The sturdy platform that the entire restaurant was perched on began to shake. “Fire!” The triggers of twenty rifles were clicked at once, armor materializing onto their owners to protect them from the cascading light-show. Crackling into existence, forged from hard-light, was an icosahedral dome that erected itself over the Restaurant at the End of the Internet. In a matter of seconds, the air within seemed to spontaneously combust, transforming into a volatile material that resembled a cleansing flame. The commanders looked at it with savage victory – yet so did the tall man, in a gesture that confused several.
There were shouts of anger from the crowd in the neutrality zone, who seemed incredulous and appalled at what was going on. The commanders scoffed, the one with the silver hair yelling at them over the din within the dome. “Oh, knock it off! We’re doing you all a service here! We’re ridding your workplace of the fraudulence and paradoxes it was built upon!” But no one else seemed to share these views. The commanders grumbled to themselves, and after nearly a continuous minute of scorching the Restaurant at the End of the Internet, they called for a ceasefire. The fingers left the triggers, and the rifles were pulled out of the cubes, red lightning crackling through the thin air and fire spilling onto the ground before fading into embers. The icosahedral dome fragmented into pieces, and the churning flame turned into smoke that completely obscured the restaurant from view. The workers wept and shook, fearing that they’d see a ruined establishment — or worse, nothing at all. The personnel stared either stoically or smugly. A combination of both.
Yet when the smoke cleared, the Restaurant at the End of the Internet stood perfectly still and pristine, leaving the dome exactly as it had entered it. The Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squadron’s faces contorted into rage and confusion. “WHAT,” the commanders all shouted at once, followed by obscenities. There was mass panic, and for once, the workers were silent. The tall, slender man walked through the swarming crowd, whistling to himself, but the commanders grabbed him, pulling him aside before he could reach the door. “You!” they yelled. “You did this! What did you do?? We should have you arrested for obstructing the progression of parajustice!” The tall man’s head darkened and contorted, the technology in the armor of every personnel blaring into static. The entire squadron backed away in agony and confusion, staring grimly at the tall man. I told you, he said. There were no paradoxes in this establishment. The only thing I bought with the Venezuelan money was the ownership — which I just now reaffirmed, legally, without the presence of the currency. All these refurbishments were forged from shadow. The tall man waved his hand, a tendril of darkness curling around him. It hammered itself into static and fell to the ground with a thunk as a perfectly formed table. He also pulled out a contract stating he had ownership of the establishment. It was written in English, Cyrillic, Wingdings, twenty-third century Spanish, Old Gaelic, Sumerian, and whatever language is used in 207̃012.
The gears turned in the commander’s heads. “So you’re telling me you made us conduct an operation on this facility by intentionally making us believe its newfound riches resulted from paradoxes when there were none, wasting our precious time and God knows what else.” The tall man shrugged. That’s what I told you from the beginning. There were no paradoxes. The money’s out of my hands — it’s in the doctor’s, now. I’m free, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me. The commander practically seethed with anger at this point. “What was the point in having us do this, huh?? What do you have to gain from, from, making us waste resources here?! There’s always an ulterior motive!” The tall man took a step back. I made you do nothing. This was what you brought upon yourselves. The P.A.E.S. seemed incapable of taking these words as fact, shouting and hollering about their situation while they hurriedly packed up their gear. The intensity of their remarks only grew as they filed away into their ships, and as they flew away, their screams outweighed the sounds of their engines. The staff of the restaurant alternated between staring in silence and ushering the guests back into the building. A floating head of surrealism shuffled over to the tall man. i fell ｃ ｏ ｎ ｆ ｕ ｓ ｅ ｏ ｎ ...why were them ANGERY?
The tall man’s head gazed at the limitless cosmos. Sanity-draining powers work wonders on the fragility of the humanoid psyche, he said. But I wonder why in this case. The Squadron is known for their defenses against many reality-warping techniques and programs. They should have blocked my power. But they didn’t. The head drank from his Bepis and looked along with the tall man. W-H-A-T doth it meme, he queried. It means, the tall man continued, that they aren’t operating at full capacity. Something has them occupied. And I think I want to find out what.
The tall man walked back through the doors of the restaurant, leaving the universe behind him.
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