A corner of the universe.
The surface of a lifeless planet.
Upon the barren land ravaged by superstorms stood a low building that theoretically should not have existed, entirely unaffected by its environment.
Viewed from different perspectives, the building took on different forms.
Perhaps an ancient castle, perhaps a filthy pool of blood, perhaps the abdominal cavity of a living creature, or perhaps a concave surface of starlight.
At present, when examined through the brain structure of a "human":
The building corresponded to a bar in the American West.
Bursts of cheerful voices continually drifted from within, as though some sort of game was underway.
The hall contained only a single large wooden round table.
A total of eleven "guests" sat around it. Their makeup, attire, speech, behavior, and characteristics varied greatly; they appeared to be of the same species, yet were vastly different.
A brief description of several of them follows, all viewed from a human perspective:
One person sat at the northeastern corner of the round table, stepping on a Long Boot overflowing with seawater while his other bare foot rested on the ground.
He wore something akin to a pirate captain's outfit, with damp long hair hanging over his shoulders.
As though he had been submerged in the deep sea for years, ravine-like wrinkles covered his face, while psychedelic starlight shimmered in his pupils, seemingly leading into the half-real, half-illusory Dreamlands.
No matter what he did, he was always half a beat slower than everyone else.
Another wore an exquisite British waistcoat. His entire body was gray, and every gesture exuded aristocratic refinement.
When observed from different angles, parts of his facial features were always missing—for example, his mouth could not be seen from above and the side, his left eye could not be seen from the