mayfield_rpg | event: portal three

The third portal is not what you expect.

It's found in the middle of the Greased Lightning auto garage in the center of one of the building's walls. The drone workers in the garage don't look at or speak of it, but they seem to be avoiding its presence.

From what you can see in the garage, the portal opens up into what seems like the interior of a train's carriage, or first-class seating on an airline. You can see down what seems to be a large, impossibly miles-long aisle, with floors and seats made of luxurious red carpeting. From where you're standing, you can see the arms and legs of the people sitting in those seats, and in some cases the backs of their heads. They're all very well-dressed, and seem pretty lively, although you can't hear anything from this side of the portal.

Upon stepping through, other than the same tingle felt by the other portals, a few other sensations may hit you. The first, and most jarring, is the sense of vertigo caused by suddenly being hundreds of feet above sea level. If your ears pop, that would be why. The second is the smell of delicious food wafting into your nostrils; the supper trolley must be getting close.

The third, and a little less pleasant, is a faint buzzing in the back of your head that will be more than a little familiar to anybody who visited the carnival. Glancing around the cabin, you may notice the same holes that littered the sky back at the carnival: pockets of pure nothing, each about the size of a dinner plate, are scattered here and there across the aisle. Looking at them for more than a few seconds hurts your eyes as well as your mind.

It is while glancing around the cabin that you may notice two things. The first is the windows of the cabin, outside of which you can see the surroundings of your vehicle. It's neither a train nor an airplane: it's a blimp, bigger than any you've ever seen. Above your window you can see the bottom of the great balloon your cabin is attached to. Below, you can see the ocean, and ahead on the horizon, land. It seems the airship you're aboard is headed straight for a large metropolis on the coastline.

The second thing you might notice, now that you're close enough to see them, is the fact that none of your fellow passengers have faces. Their bodies are moving, shifting positions and gesticulating as if they're talking to each other, but no noise emerges from the patch of skin where their mouths would have been. The same goes for everyone occupying the seats down the aisle, which stretches further than you can see. Even when you poke and prod at them, the faceless passengers don't seem to notice your presence- yet.