A simple lightswitch is no longer merely a lightswitch it contains infinite mysteries. Everything glows with a numinous inner light. The next day, my body is walking through Manhattan, but most of me is still on Myst Island. I’d like to believe that someday I’ll write a book that makes people gasp, but in the meantime… I go to sleep dreaming of clicking on everything I see. I can’t remember the last time a book made me gasp.Ī movie, maybe. I’m trying to puzzle out a riddle when suddenly the lights go out. I’m the last man in the universe, and I’ve cranked up a generator in a lighthouse and scurried down a long tunnel into an underwater chamber. Trying to figure out how to turn a book into a world. I’m on Myst Island, trying to figure out how to turn a tree into an elevator. I’m the only one awake, but then again, I’m not on Long Island either. The friends whose house we’re staying in.
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