Notes

Grass tickles your feet as you stand. Green, as far as the eye can see. Small hills creates an uneven terrain, but it's gentle, like the ripples of a carpet. In the distance you can see a body of water. A lake? Ocean? It's hard to tell. Blue skies are overhead that look as though it has never been polluted by carbon with fluffy white clouds floating lazy along.

In front of you is a man not much taller than you. His overall posture seems relaxed, slumped shoulders and hands hanging limply from his sides, though there's an odd tenseness to him. He has green hair, paler than the grass that soaks in the sunlight like a sponge. It's not long, barely the nape of his neck, though it's neatly brushed and holds a sort of fluffiness to it. You wonder how soft it would be to the touch. There are bandages wrapped around his head. His face looks blank, his eyes especially so. It's the same way you image a ghost would look after bathing in the River Lethe. Actually, if you didn't know better, you might think he was a ghost. Everything about him is pale, from his gold eyes to his hair to his skin that blended into his white clothes. It gave him an almost otherworldly look. You wonder how close he is to death's door. 

Not that far away from you two is a large mountain, larger than any mountain you have ever seen, photograph or otherwise. Something tells you that it's the largest mountain you ever /will/ see, no matter what world you go. In the base of the mountain, you can make out two large doors. They look like they're made of ancient technology. 

The man in front of you smiles, a small serene smile. It suits him, though you wonder how often he is forced to give it. He looks weary.

"Hello, little one. You're here for lessons." His voice is smooth, in the way a tired parent might tell stories to their children at bedtime, but his words sound like a statement. You blink in confusion. 

>Um, no. 

"No?" The man hums, a finger on his lip. At least he doesn't seem offended by your refusal. "Then you're here for..."

>Where am I?

The man frowns at you. He doesn't seem worried or confused at your question, like he has experience answering it before. More, you get the feeling of someone who gets asked the same question every day. 

"You're at The Dimension. You're not in any other dimension anymore." 

>Other dimensions?

The man sighs. Exasperation. You wonder if he thinks you're an amnesiac. 

"I teach writing and math, among other things. Like dimension hopping. I'm going to teach you how to do it."

>Then can I call you Teacher?

The man - Teacher - froze. His eyes flicker to the distance before looking back at you. "You're not-"

"You're not supposed to call people names," he starts, his eyes flitting around for anyone or anything. You wonder why, since everything here looks peaceful so far, though unease starts to settle in your stomach. "We- get greedy. Very easily. If someone gives us a name, we'll want /more/. We'll grovel and beg for another name. One becomes two, and soon we have enough to cover the whole world with our many names. 

The man shudders, before looking off into the distance. A shiver goes down your spine as you look at him. His eyes are like glass - they have no emotion in them. You wonder if there's anybody here who doesn't have glass-like eyes. "I wonder how anybody can stand just having two names."