Beyond the Multiverse

Chapter Twenty-Two: West is Best

Television is a cruel industry. People battle over each other to become more and more powerful, by attempting more and more audacious things in the hopes people will tune in to watch them transpire. If a grandmother was set on fire whilst wearing a panda suit on live television, whilst it would be unethical and horrific, it would get tremendous views.

Television and ethics barely go hand in hand, and one only has to tune into the latest dating or survival show to cement this fact. Humans love to watch other humans suffer, as horrid and twisted as that truth is. Why else would people tune in to watch millionaire housewives get into fights over the design of the wine glasses at their baby shower?

Irrelevant violence, absurd strain, pointless challenges. Objectively terrible things, but when a camera is put in front of them, we don't hesitate to lap it up. If one watched an episode of a dating show in-person, gawking at the human interaction and gobbling up breadsticks, it would be awkward and invasive. But that's exactly what television is. Invading privacy, causing pain and laughing at the results.

Ethics don't get views. A complete abandonment of ethics does, and if there's one man who knew this to be a fact, it was television host George West.

What does a manic television show host have to do with Jane Johnson, Hattie Barrows and Cyril Manson? Quite a lot, as it turns out.

There was a hefty thud as the three fell out from the portal, and landed on the pile of ornate pillows that seemed oddly to have been placed specifically for this sort of occurrence.

As Jane stood up and dusted herself off, she couldn't help but stare confusedly at the piles of pillows. Most of them had either the name 'George,' 'West,' or 'George West' embroidered into them in ornate lettering. This George West character, Jane concluded, was clearly very protective of his cushions.

"Well, that ended about as badly as one could imagine," Hattie rightly concluded.

"In fairness, you were an irritating clod the whole time," Cyril pointed out.

"How?" Hattie asked, offended, but not confidently so.

"Well, you fainted at the sight of blood," Cyril sassily explained, "And you got zapped unconscious twice, so we had to lug around your body while battling against the bad guys who YOU failed to fight."

Hattie stared down at the floor with a depressed sigh. She was right.

"Guys, where are we?" Jane asked, looking around at the abandoned wooden building they were currently standing in.

The building was clearly made with craftmanship. It had a warm, homey design, with tables, chairs, and a counter for selling the sandwiches that sat growing mould in the display.

The portal they had just passed through came courtesy of the large, inter-dimensional gateway generator that seemed to be positioned right next to the sandwich shop's fireplace. The trio had no time to question the presence of the giant metal machine in such an adorable, cosy eatery. Besides, Jane was so desensitised to absurdity at this point that she would have shrugged off a flying homeless man made of bees as normal.

The lights were off, meaning the only illumination of the space came from the windows, which showed panoramic shots of what appeared to be the ocean. Slowly, Jane stepped towards the doors out of the store, as Hattie and Cyril followed at the same pace.

With a heave, Jane pushed open the two bulky wooden doors of the store, revealing the landscape behind.

It was the ocean.

To say it was ONLY the ocean would be misleading. It was not. It just so happened to be mostly the ocean. Before them, sitting comfortably in this ocean, was a vast island several hundred metres away, connected by an absurdly long and narrow metal bridge.