alright i wanted to wait until i was at a computer (and my arms weren't hooked up to intravenous lines) to tell you about the polyhedron and here i am.

the polyhedron is an impossible structure -- really, it shouldn't be standing. it has a long, spindly base, growing and spiraling and culminating in a bulk like a origami wasp's nest. by all rights, it should be crushed under its own weight. but it has an airy beauty about it, and they say it was built out of its own blueprints. look close, and you can see sketches of the structure that you're standing in. it's hyperreal -- a map and a territory. (seriously. it's super weird.)

it was designed by peter stamatin, a genius architect from the city (from the same school as the bachelor), who wastes his days drinking extract of twyrine, the steppe-herb that grants visions. now only children inhabit the polyhedron. you see, the town is full of child-gangs who play strange games, games of souls in walnut's shells and invisible mewling cats. in the polyhedron, all their games become real.

all their games. on the last day, you're invited into the polyhedron. you descend through its strange rooms, and meet two children, playing in a sandbox. the sandbox is a town, and the town is plagued by the terrible, choking sand pest of the children's own creation. they send in their dollies, rough-spun things with button eyes, to be healers and try to cure the plague. but usually their healers just kick up more sand. they were never the children's favorite dolls, anyway, so it's okay if they get dirty.

when you talk to the children, you can choose to speak as the player to the architects of this odd little game, and tell them how it's going. or you can stubbornly insist, up to the end, that you are a real person making real choices, and you won't be toyed with.

it's super weird.