“Oh, fuck no,” Lily swears. “We’re not just inside any?—”
She pinches the bridge of her nose, looking both adorable and exhausted.
“You know this place?” I ask her, studying the strange language scrawled across the walls.
The translator doesn’t pick it up, and I wait for her signal. If she has some knowledge of this strange hologram we’ve been forced inside of then she should lead.
“Oh, everyone knows this place. This is the worst labyrinth of them all on Earth.”
“What is it?” I ask, staring at the bright yellow and blue shapes congealing like a toddler youngling fever dream across the walls.
“It’s an IKEA,” she says, with the tone of a female who has witnessed unspeakable crimes in such a place.
“Welcome to your next obstacle,” Ken announces from somewhere outside the labyrinth.
My skin prickles, the scales on my spine standing up in trepidation for what is to come.
“Zan, you have been placed inside a human mating ritual the likes of which the outer worlds have never seen. This is an IKEA superstore, and humans often take their mates here to find objects of all sorts, collections for their home decor, candles, spherical meat, and other strange items humans seem to prize.”
“Books?” I ask.
“Not usually,” Lily says with a groan.
“Your task is to navigate this labyrinth of capitalism, locate the flat-pack furniture at the end of the course, and assemble it before time runs out. You will know time is running out when the wave of lava appears. By then, it will be too late. Good luck,” Ken says.
“Look right here,” I tell Lily, pointing to what appears to be a map of this strange place. “This dot, this is where we are.”
“Don’t pay attention to the map,” Lily says, staring at me. “Trust nothing. This whole place is designed to confuse you. Follow me,” she says, a determined look on her face. “And whatever you do, don’t think for once that the toilets here are real.”
“Humans prefer to frequent places with fake toilets?” I ask, completely bemused. “What is the purpose of a fake toilet?”
“I really can’t answer that question,” she says, shaking her head. “That is not for us to know. Let’s move.”
Her voice snaps with the same tone as a military commander, and it’s all I can do to not throw her over my shoulder and spirit her away from this terrible, soulless place.
“Meat spheres?” I ask instead, choosing to distract both of us. “I would like to understand more of your food lore if you consume meat regularly that’s been shaped into a sphere.”
She gives a deep sigh, holding my hand, tugging me along through a path of the most surreal rooms I have ever seen.
Hundreds of what appear to be resting places for humans line the walls, along with seating of all kinds and colors, tagged in a language I cannot understand.
“It’s weird that the signs don’t translate,” she says, following the direction of my gaze.
“Is this typically a language that you can understand?” I ask her.
She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “No one can understand these signs except for the people in the country where IKEA is from.”
“And this is part of your mating ritual, to navigate this place with your partner?”
I feel slightly honored that I am with her if that is the case, and I puff up my chest, walking faster as she navigates us around a strange assortment of plush animals that remind me of the bunny sneakers she lost within our first few days here.
“Would you like me to take these and make them into shoes for your feet?” I ask, pointing at a particularly large plush snake.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says. “I don’t think we should touch anything.”
It’s too late. I’ve already put my hand around the plush snake.
Lily shrieks as the soft fur changes to scales.
