Jonathan Bradshaw - Cinccino
The Art Gallery

Every painting and description here made absolutely no sense. But then again, that was with everything around here. I needed... no, I had to find a way to crack the system behind this place. Otherwise it would make me a drooling lunatic and I'd end up just as cuckoo as everything else in this Wonderland Hell. It had been a whole damn month and I was no closer to getting out of here than the day I stupidly stumbled into this flaming cesspool.

I came to the exit door of the art gallery, figuring there was absolutely no point in being here right now. I got so fed up that after standing on the tips of my toes to reach the brass door knob in the shape of a clover, I opened the door, and saw it opened up into a black, dark subway with dirty walls and flickering lights. Perfect. I really didn't feel like walking around as a fluffy chinchilla in a dingy place like that and make myself a living, filthy dust bunny in the process. I shut the door, knowing even just doing that would change the room behind it when I opened the door again.

Second time I opened it, there was a small kitchen in yellow and green with a strobe light. Nope, didn't feel like dealing with that either. Out of annoyed cynical impatience, I repeated the process and cycled through what felt like a dozen rooms, starting from the dingy subway, the lemon/lime kitchen, an upside down pool hall, a warped outside basketball court, a magazine printing press that was splattered in sticky bubble gum, a purple planetarium with plush Pokémon all over the place, an indoor pool that was filled with what looked like grape soda, a furniture store where everything was floating in the air, and then back to the subway again.

But then I noticed the pattern and I cycled through the whole thing again. Subway, kitchen, pool hall, basketball court, printing press, planetarium, swimming pool, furniture store. I did the whole cycle four times and finally confirmed there was a solid pattern to it. I then got an idea.

Write it down and graffiti up the walls if you have to!

But I didn't have a damn pen or marker. And I needed a real pen or marker, not one I found here that would look like a pen, but shoot bubbles before playing jazz and then cause whatever I wrote to turn into noodles.

I badly needed to find a human trainer. Or at least someone who had a pen or writing tool from the outside world, or else forget it, I couldn't map out this place. But for the first time in months, the idea of mapping this whole place out for everyone, including myself, might have been our first, real lead. We could write down what rooms led to what other rooms, and maybe even write down what these damn trick foods did.

But holy crap, it was going to be a lot of work...