“But of course, He left long, long ago as we all know,” he replied sagely, “whether or not He will ever return….well, for that we’ve only His word.”

“But….is that not enough?”

Laughter.

“Look around you son.” He gestured around himself, arms out wide, though of course the room they were in was cramped, musty, nondescript, and absent of any object worthy of note or consideration save the ‘Witch Doctor’ himself and his immediate meager possessions and affectations.

“The Gig is crumbling around us, the Cloud Factory is gone, rubble, the Agriplex is failing, will fail. Anarchy, starvation, riots, murder, and civil war. If He is to return, would he not return now?”

“The Tyrant said, before He left, that He would return,” ______ said, standing firm, though in his mind he was divided, for everything the 'Witch' said was true and that truth resonated within him, as all truth did.

The Tyrant had not returned, neither had the signs of His impending return surfaced.

“Then I don’t understand. Why am I here?”

More laughter.

“You say this as if you expect me to tell you, and yet you walked into my home.”

“I was told to come down here…”

“So?”

“….”

“What are you about?”

“I’m following…." he hesitated.

“Yes?”

“I’m following, I followed __________ down here.”

“Ahhhhhh,” a twinkle lit his eye, “so you’re about a trip then?”

“A trip…where,” not understanding.

Laughter. “Not where. How.”

“How? What does that mean?”

“Eat this,” he said, producing from seemingly nowhere a palm sized mushroom with white stem and veil and a faintly violet cap.

__________________
Peace is dictated.

Cool!