It didn’t know if it was a cave, but it was dark like one. Actually, it was dark like a place that has no opening for any light whatsoever to traverse its depth, but a cave seemed an appropriate enough description so it figured it would go with that. It didn’t know what it was either actually. It felt what it was, the way that you feel that you are alive, or the way that you feel like you are what you are without any real knowledge of what it actually means. There was also something strange in the air, a buzzing somehow that tickled what should have been its ear and vibrated in what should have been its skull.

It was dark, and it was alone. Or it assumed that it was alone, it really had no way of verifying it. It didn’t have a mouth so to speak, but it really didn’t have an anything. It felt as if it was an idea or something. It was a thought that had somehow lost its way to something greater and therefore remained invisible and unrealized. This feeling sucked. It was one thing, it assumed, to be ignored. It was quite another to have no one even recognize your existence. It didn’t know how it knew this, but it knew. The way that people always know when there’s someone right behind them. But the buzzing was there, it was soft but it was there. It was something besides the darkness to latch on to and for the idea floating about aimlessly, it was hope. It stretched its nonexistent vocal cords, pursed its phantasmal lips and said,
“Pst,” A silence followed that it was not prepared for. The darkness was so thick it echoed off of nothing and died. It was about to give up all hope for a response when,

“Hey. What the hell are you doing?” the voice came from everywhere, and nowhere.

“Who is that?” Another silence followed.

“…I don’t know,” the voice said.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“Exactly what I said, now shove off. I mean who do you think you are judging me?”

It thought for a moment. It wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that question. No matter how hard it tried it failed to think of itself as anything other than it. Somehow it remembered that genders applied to some things; Male and female. It didn’t know which of these applied to it though.

“Omi,” it decided, “Yes, Omi sounds about right.”

“Well, Omi, do you mind telling me where the hell we are?”

“Actually, I was hoping you could tell me,” Omi said. He felt as if he wanted to fidget, though he didn’t really know what he would fidget with. The concept seemed entirely strange to him.

“Right, Sounds like a perfect plan. Ask the one who doesn’t know its own name. F*** it, I think I’d like to be called Sera.”

“Sera?” Omi asked.

“I’ve always wanted to be named Sera… Or I think I have. I’m not really sure why I said that.”

“I’m sure that there was a perfectly plausible explanation behind it. Now let’s focus for a second here.”

“Or maybe I had always wanted to be called Sergio,” Sera continued.

“Focus,” Omi said.

“Right right the whole location thing,” Sera said, “Well I don’t really know how you can determine that. There doesn’t seem to be any way out, and for some reason I feel like there is something important that I simply can’t remember, you know what I mean?”

Omi did. He had decided that he and Sera were male, but this was a small victory. He had only just regained consciousness, but he knew that there was supposed to be something in his mind. Some sort of filler that was supposed to tell him what he had been doing before he had gotten there. Not only that, but he was fairly sure that he was supposed to have appendages of some sort and quite possible something that actually formed words; A voice box, a mouth, anything that made sense. He tried squinting his eyes, and realized he didn’t know where his eyes would go if he had them. It didn’t matter, though, a dim light flicked on in its mind.

“I feel like I was a plumber,” Omi said. He wasn’t sure how he knew about plumbers, but he did. There was a lot he knew, he realized, so long as he waited long enough to know it.

“A plumber? Why?” Sera asked.

“I don’t know. I feel like I was in charge of something septic.”

“Well,” Sera said, “If you can remember so much why not telling me where we are.”

“As far as I can tell… Somewhere incredibly dark,” Omi said. He felt a small tingle in an area he assumed an arm would fit nicely.

“You are quite helpful,” Sera said.

“A part of me told me that I should try to be.”

“Well fantastic job. Truly extraordinary. For some reason I feel the urge to plague your fields with something unpleasant,” Sera said. Omi had a strange feeling that Sera’s voice was getting more defined.

“Wait, hold on there. You might be on to something, because I’m suddenly feeling how the blood of a virgin would be nice right about now,” Omi said.

“Or a lamb. Something four legged and furry at least, but what does it all mean?”

“Did someone say virgin?” A voice echoed in from nowhere in particular. It was simply there. Omi and Sera stopped speaking for a moment, curious if it was the other.

“Who the f*** was that?” Sera asked.

“I think I may want to start a war,” the voice continued.

“What in the world is he on about?” Omi asked.

“Actually, a war sounds pretty nice about now,” Sera said.

“Yes, I know it does, but who the hell is he?” Omi asked. He felt his temper rising, which felt right for some reason. He felt as if there was something happening to him that had not happened for a very long time. Something beautiful that used to be an everyday occurrence for him, but had somehow faded away into nothingness. He was getting justifiably pissed off.

“Me? Oh, let’s see. I think Pan would be fine, or something similar. If you feel the need to call me something else feel free,” Pan said.

“Well you are awfully chipper,” Sera said, “I suppose you don’t know where we are either.”

“Haven’t the foggiest,” Pan said, and if there had been a mouth involved Omi was sure it would have been smiling.

“Well that’s just great isn’t it?” Sera huffed.

“Could you three shut up? It’s bad enough floating about this place without having to hear you,” Another voice appeared, and this time Omi was quite sure it was feminine.

“Where the f*** are all of you coming from?” Omi asked. He had wanted to know where he was, but it seemed like he had summoned a battalion rather than an answer. Every few moments a new person was popping up and making his existence more confusing than it was before.

“Oh her? That’s Annie. Don’t mind her she just gets cranky is all. Speaking of which, does anyone else feel the urge to play music?” Pan asked.

“How on earth did you relate cranky and music together?” Sera asked. If Pan could have shrugged, he would have.

“Really, quiet down. I feel like I’m being somewhat generous with the warnings,” Annie said.

“How long have you been awake?” Omi asked. Strangely enough, this question seemed to be important.

“Far too long actually. I’d like to go back to sleep, but every time I get somewhat close another one of you pops up and starts talking,” Annie said.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where we are by any chance would you?” Sera asked. Omi had wanted to ask the same question but didn’t feel like being yelled at. Sera obviously had more courage.

“I feel like a Lyre would be appropriate,” Pan chimed in.

“Where are we?” Annie asked, “You haven’t remembered yet?”

“No of course we have. I’m just asking because I think it’s entertaining,” Sera remarked.

“No need to be cross. You’re not the one who’s been awake since who knows when. As for where we are, we are absolutely nowhere,” Annie said. Sera paused, and Omi could have sworn he felt the darkness shiver for a moment.

“What do you mean we’re nowhere?” Omi asked. He wasn’t pissed anymore. Any remainder of anger he had was slowly fizzling away and being replaced with a desperate confusion.

“This is nowhere. You see all that nothingness around you? That really is nothingness. It’s not just dark in here, it’s all just nothing,” Annie said wearily.

“That makes no sense at all. If we’re here then it must be somewhere. It breaks all logic to say that this place is nowhere at all,” Sera said. His voice was beginning to falter.

“Does anyone else want to recite a poem with me?” Pan asked.

“Shut up!” Sera said.

“Look, say whatever you want but the fact remains that this is nowhere at all. Once you remember everything I’m sure that it will all make sense to you,” Annie said.

Omi was about to object, but something inside of him told him he shouldn’t. He knew she wasn’t lying. They were nowhere. It wasn’t just that there wasn’t a name for it. It was that there didn’t need to be a name for it because it didn’t exist.

“Balls,” Omi said.

“It looks like this one’s remembered something,” Annie said.

“Really? What about?” Sera asked. There was desperation in there laced between the words.

“Really, just one poem,” Pan said.

“I swear I am going to rip off something important if you don’t shut up,” Sera said.

“Where do Gods go when they die?” Omi asked. He knew the answer, and he knew how he knew. It was strange, but the memories had started flooding back to him.

“Are you saying we’re gods?” Sera asked.

“Apparently so,” Annie said, “Though this seems like a very unwelcoming afterlife.”

“Well we aren’t actually dead. We can’t really die,” Omi said.

“Please, for the sake of my apparently miniscule IQ, could you explain this to me without all of the vagueness?” Sera asked.

“This is the place where we go when no one believes in us anymore. We aren’t gods anymore, just ideas and therefore we are treated as such,” Omi said. Sera was quiet for longer than Omi expected. Still, in the darkness he could hear Pan murmuring a poem to himself in a happy tune.

“So,” Sera finally said, “Which are we? Gods or ideas?”

“Both,” Annie said. Since the conversation had taken a turn, her voice seemed more lively and entertained.

“Oh god,” Sera said.

“Yes?” Annie replied happily.

“My head hurts,” Sera said, ignoring her comment.

“You technically don’t have a head. Or at least not anymore,” Pan said cheerfully.

“Pan-,” Sera started.

“Right. Ripping off things and such. Really though, I’m not really sure what you’d rip off. I mean with the lack of body parts and all it just seems kind of tedious,” Pan said.

“Ok,” Omi said, “Now that we have all that established and everyone’s up to date on the matter I think we should try and figure out exactly how to get out of here.”

Annie chuckled for an unsettling amount of time, made worse by Pan humming a soundtrack.

“What? What is it?” Sera asked. He had apparently gotten over the initial shock and anger was creeping into his voice.

“The only way to get out is to have a mass amount of people believing you,” Annie said, “And since they won’t believe us until they see us and since they can’t see us because they don’t believe us, we are pretty much stuck here.”

It was dark; unnaturally dark. And quiet; painfully quiet if you did not count Pan making his own sound effects as his imaginary hands strummed an imaginary lyre.

“Well,” Omi said, “S***.”