"Richard Miller, hey," came a voice from a thousand miles away. It cut through the large, pulsating drumbeat in his head – lump-lump! lump-lump! – that was paradoxically both silent and incredibly loud. "Wait, it's Rusty, right? That's what they call you?" the voice continued, getting closer.

"Rusty, yeah," Rusty replied. "Sorry for sleeping in class, Miss. Promise it won't happen again."

But it wasn't Mrs. Jacobs who swam into focus as the drumbeat subsided. It was someone he had never seen before, a girl, maybe his age or older, and she was... wearing a wetsuit? The girl became blurry again, and the drumbeat once more grew in soundless volume.

"Who're you?" he asked, closing his eyes again.

"A friend. Hey listen, I can fix you up fast, but that'll only be the beginning of your troubles. So get ready."

"What?"

"Hold still," she said, and placed a hand onto his forehead. There was a sensation like an electric jolt, and his headache disappeared with surprising suddenness.

Then he was awake. Fully awake.

"What the heck!" he exclaimed, looking wildly around the room. Three figures at the doorway came into sharp focus: a portly old man, a kid around his age, and a terrifying dog-thing that sat on its haunches and stared at him with eyes that actually glowed yellow.

"Easy, easy," said the female voice to his left. "Just relax, I got this. And I hear from your accent you are an Australian, hey? Er, 'g'day', amigo."

"Who the heck are you, and where the heck am I?" he asked. Suddenly he felt all clammy and sweat-drenched, and realized he was in his wetsuit. He clawed at the Velcro catch around his neck.

The girl took his hands in hers and pressed down on his chest, forcing him to lie back down. "Straight to the point, aren't we," she said, and chortled. "Aussies. Go figure. And this next thing is gonna feel pretty weird, Rusty, but I really, really need to do it."

She didn't bother to wait for a response. Again, that feeling of electricity shot through Rusty, this time through his sternum. The shock was immediately followed by a sense of peace and well-being, radiating outwards from where her hands made contact, and was unlike anything he had ever experienced (which, given the circumstances, was saying a lot).

"Who are you?" he asked. His panic had been replaced with a sense of bewildered serenity.

"One thing at a time," she replied. "The first thing I want you to do is get your bearings, okay? Just look around for a moment, take it all in."

Rusty obeyed wordlessly, and briefly scanned the room. The chamber was quite large, with a number of beds placed at even spaces along the edges. In the middle was a white pillar adorned with Egyptian-looking hieroglyphs, on top of which sat some sort of glowing bulb-thing (the orb had settled down and returned to its place). Rusty returned his attention once more to the doorway again, where the strange figures stood looking at him. Heck, even the dog-thing was looking at him!

"Am I dead?" he asked the girl.

The girl laughed. "No, Rusty. Not dead."

"I must be. You're some sort of surfie angel chick. In a wettie."

The girl raised one eyebrow. "I'm not a surfie angel chick," she said, "and this isn't a wetsuit, but I don't have time to explain. Can you stand?"

"I think I can," he said. He tried to swing his legs off the bed, but they refused to move. The girl stood up and took his legs to help him.

"Cheers," Rusty said, and as he sat up, the world once again swum out of focus. He felt the girl grab his shoulders, and gently bring his head down over his knees.

"'Cheers' is 'thanks', if I've got my Aussie right," she said, "and just breathe, Rusty. Although, to be honest, you're not exactly breathing oxygen over here. I'm still trying to come to terms with this place... and likely managing a heck of a lot better than you, I'd say."

Rusty raised his head as the dizziness passed. "What happened? Where am I?"

"I'll try to explain where you are later, amigo. As to what happened, I was hoping you'd tell me."

"Huh?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

Rusty raised one hand to his head. "I... I don't..." he stammered, but it was like his brain was shrouded in a dense, white fog. Everything was blurry. He knew his name, but that was about it, although... had he been surfing recently?

"You said something about sleeping in class," the girl continued. "And you were thinking about... Mrs. Jacobs? Ring any bells? School bells, maybe?"

"Who's Mrs. Jacobs?"

The girl raised one eyebrow. "Okay, never mind."

"Right," Rusty said uncertainly, then shook his head. He truly had no idea what was going on. Or, for that matter, what the heck had happened to bring him here (...was I surfing??...). He looked once more at the startlingly-attractive girl. "What's your name, anyhow? I'm Rusty."

The girl laughed. "Duh. I already know your name," she replied. "I'm Ariadne, but you can call me Sonic." She extended her hand to him. Rusty took it, and they shook.

"Impressive grip," he said. Something occurred to him, a childhood memory emerging bright in his mind. "And Sonic? Like the hedgehog?"

"Yep," she replied, "like the hedgehog. And don't patronize my grip or I'll get these guys to feed you to their dog-thing, as you call it."

Rusty looked over at the doorway again. The strangers there were still staring at him and the girl.

Then something else clicked.

"Hang on," he said, "I never said anything about their dog. Dog-thing."

The girl, Sonic, winked at him. "No, but you thought it. And I can read your mind, señor, so watch it."

Rusty gaped. "I'm dead," he said. "There's no way any of this is real!"

"Again, Rusty, you're not dead," Sonic said, "and I'm gonna do my darndest to keep you that way. 'Cause once we step outside and you get a look at this place... I'm worried your gonna have a coronary."

"What's that?" Rusty asked.

"A... a coronary?" Sonic said. The puzzled look on Rusty's face was far from encouraging. "A heart attack?"

"Okay," Rusty said. "Why?"

Sonic sighed. "Long story," she said. "Long, long story. How long? Super-long. I gotta chat to these hombres now. Gimme a second."