Nimdok had somehow wound up in the Monastery of Enlightenment, despite having been in the Archbishop’s inner sanctum only minutes earlier. There was no explanation for how he got there to be found in the entirety of the episode.
“Uh-uh!” The elixir-bearing monk leaped to his feet and pointed at Miri. “No kids allowed!”
Nimdok glanced at his daughter, then shrugged. “
Well, where should I put her?”
The monk clapped his hands. Two other monks appeared, each of them holding a jump-rope. They headed outside the Monastery, faced each other, then began to skip the ropes. Miri immediately went out and joined them.
“
Works for me,” Nimdok said. “
What’s all this about an Elixir of Enlightenment?”
“Here you go.” The monk passed him a bowl. “I’d drink it sitting down if I were you. Possibly side effects include twitching, shaking, and chronic dysentery.”
Sitting on a cushion, Nimdok downed the elixir in a single gulp. “
What are the benefits again?”
“We rob you blind while you’re too zoned out to notice. Oh, and you get enlightened. Sort of.”
But Nimdok was too far gone to understand his words. The room full of cushions abruptly shifted into a waiting room, the walls replaced by red curtains.
Kirk Korrado had been replaced by a white marble statue of a nude woman,
Ishana Chandra
a lamp, while
Ryv
and
Ripley Kühn
had become
Tom Kovack and
Bartych Halcorr, respectively. Nimdok was now clad in a uniform consisting of a blue shirt, black pants, and boots. It looked way too much like pajamas, but then most of his clothes did double duty in that area anyway.
“laeR weN eht ot emocleW—” Bartych began, only for the golden-furred Bothan to break off and shake his head. “Forget this, I don’t have the patience to speak all my dialogue backwards. You know what this is, don’t you? We’re characters from each of our writer’s favorite TV shows, but since she uses them as our playbys anyway, it doesn’t
actually count as a crossover and she can get away with it without breaking the rules." He shrugged. "The entire post is full of obnoxious pop culture references. Everyone who reads it will instantly become annoyed. Especially
Auteme
.”
Observing the changed surroundings with a cool, impassive air, Nimdok met the Bothan’s gaze, steepled his fingers and remarked, “
Fascinating.”
While Tom sipped from a cup of hot black coffee (in reality, Ryv was just hitting his blunt again), Bartych went on. “I have something important to tell you. You must go to the planet Chaldea, where you will encounter the real-life woman this stupid show is about. It will be a magical adventure involving mermaids and murder, as a local legend becomes reality.”
“
I do not believe in legends,” Nimdok said. “
There must be a logical explanation.”
“There is, but it won’t be easy to figure out. Just remember these four things I’ll tell you…”
Bartych paused, noticing that Nimdok’s gaze had slid over to Tom, who was staring down at his hands. He smelled his fingers, his brow furrowing. Nimdok mimicked him and had the same reaction.
“...as I was saying,” Bartych continued. “Remember these four things.
Don’t go into the water. Darkness is absence. The girl loves the boy—”
He broke off. Tom and Nimdok had stopped sniffing their fingers, but were now locked in a staredown with one another.
“
I am sorry, Ryv,” Nimdok said. Tom mouthed the words along with him as he spoke. “
But I am not with you, at least not as far as this is concerned.”
They continued to gaze at one another. Bartych shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“
What is the fourth thing I must remember?” Nimdok asked coolly, still maintaining eerie eye contact with Tom.
“The fourth thing is, uh…" Bartych fished around for something suitably cryptic yet mildly helpful to say. "‘
Do you really deserve to have someone run to the end of the world just for your sake?’”
“
The Snow Queen, Story 7,” Nimdok cross-referenced the quote exactly. “
The little robber girl asks that question of Kai after she encounters him and Gerda on their way home from the Snow Queen’s palace.”
“How did you know that?”
“
I read my daughter that story. It is a fairytale.”
“So is this, though you won’t remember that.”
Bartych snapped his clawed fingers, and Nimdok was knocked into reality—or rather, the monastery room where he was currently sitting. Everything still looked distorted by the elixir, but it was no red room. His clothes were back to normal, as was his hair and personality. Evidently, his writer had spent her monthly allotment of pop cultural references.
Nimdok looked at Kirk Korrado, blinked, then blurted out, “
Burt Reynolds?!”
Okay,
almost.
