The gates to FUNWORLD: HISTORIC AMUSEMENT PARK were a garish riot of colour and holographic retro ads, flickering with slogans like: ‘Ride the Future of 1997’ and ‘Authentically Terran – Now with 40% Less Safety Regulations!’ As they stepped inside, Ezra was immediately assaulted by the smell of deep fried dough and the distorted echoes of tinny calliope music. 

“Welcome!” said a chipper animatronic attendant as they passed through the turnstile. “Please enjoy your stay, and remember: Lawsuits are historically accurate!”

Olaf spread his arms wide. “Oh, this is glorious! Look at this place! It’s like someone mashed all of Earth’s bad ideas into one shiny, neon coloured nostalgic nightmare!”

Ezra muttered, “That’s… one way to put it.” 

T’Luni surveyed the midway with mild fascination. Booths were lined with stuffed animals shaped like pre-warp animals, and every twenty yards or so there was a glass lined stall selling food and drinks. Behind the rows of games and food vendors, rides of all shapes and sizes spun and hurled patrons every which way, so that the excited screams of the riders were added to the general din of the area. She clasped her hand behind her back, and let out a thoughtful hum. “This appears to replicate humanity’s early attempts at artificial exhilaration. Remarkably inefficient, yet… compelling.”

Before Ezra could answer, Olaf was already running down the midway, stuffing his face with something on the end of a stick. 

“Funnel Cake! You have to try Funnel Cake.” he shouted, powdered sugar flying off in the breeze, “Oh look! There’s a cotton candy the size of my head!”

Within the first twenty minutes, Olaf had eaten:

• One Funnel Cake
• One Corn Dog
• A deep fried ‘Snickers 3000’
• Half a bag of neon-green popcorn
• And one questionable Hot Dog, with what appeared to be glowing relish. 

Ezra watched with mounting horror. “Tactical error, my friend. You’re gonna die before we hit the first ride.” he said. 

Olaf grinned, his cheeks full. “Worth it.”

They started small. The ‘Haunted Mansion of Tomorrow’ was a dim corridor of holographic ghosts and dusty animatronics, jerking awkwardly as a pre-recorded voice said “Welcome, foolish mortals!”. Olaf jumped once, then immediately began to heckle the holograms. “That one looks like my old academy roommate!” he yelled at a flickering spectre, “Ooh, a spooky fog machine – wait, is that actual steam?”

Ezra just rolled his eyes and let T’Luni lead the way. She kept pausing to peer into the shadows, analyzing the primitive mechanics. “Curious,” she said as they stepped back out into the morning sun, “Humans paid for simulated fear in the form of non-lethal phantasms. Highly illogical.”

Ezra smirked. “Wait until you see the Tilt-A-Whirl.”

And she did. 

The Tilt-A-Whirl was a sensory overload of spinning metal, flashing lights, and shrieking park guests. The three of them clambered into a battered, round car and immediately got whipped into a series of stomach churning rotations. Ezra gripped the safety bar, laughing in spite of himself, T’Luni just leaned with the momentum of the car as if it were a math problem to be solved, and Olaf? He raised his arms over his head and whooped like a maniac until the ride began to slow. “Okay,” he said, stumbling a little as they disembarked, “That… that was one for the books, but we’re just getting started!” 

Still laughing, they walked a little further down the midway and came to a ride called the ‘Gravitron’, which was essentially just an enclosed saucer that spun around. It was painted silver, and covered with lights on the outside. Olaf was already in line before Ezra could protest. The machine slowed, then stopped, and a hatch opened inside, allowing a stream of patrons to stumble out, blinking and shielding their eyes from the brightness of the sun. There was also music – loud music, issuing from inside.

They entered the saucer and found the walls were segmented and padded, and in the center, there was a very enthusiastic hologram dressed in a 1980’s style tracksuit free mixing ancient earth music. The songs changed, but the music never ceased. The three lined up and lay against the walls as per the instructions, then waited for the ride to fill up. Once most of the padded segments were full, the hologram flipped a switch and the hatch closed with a loud hiss. 

The interior was dark without the sunlight, dimmed to a pulsing neon glow. The hologram began counting down. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Then, the whole room began to spin. Ezra felt his body glue itself to the padded wall. Then the floor sank away from him. His stomach was floating somewhere near his ribs. 

T’Luni remained calm, explaining to no one in particular, “The rotational velocity here is approximately seventeen revolutions per minute. Fascinating.”

 Olaf was screaming – half terror, half joy – “I CAN FEEL MY SKELETON!”

When the ride finally slowed, and they regained the floor, Olaf staggered, glassy eyed towards the exit. When T’Luni and Ezra caught up with him, he was hunched over, hands on his knees, breathing purposefully. He straightened up when he saw them coming, filling his voice with bravado. “Hah!” he barked, “That was… incredible! And I still feel… great!”

Ezra gave him a sidelong glance. “Are you sure about that?”

Olaf nodded enthusiastically. “One hundred percent. Bring on the big one.”

At the end of the midway. Towering over everything else, was a gleaming tower that stretched skyward, capped with a track that went up one side, then came back down in an impossible vertical drop. A looping spiral of coaster track hung suspended like some mad architect’s fever dream. Holographic flames flickered around the base, accompanying a voice that called: “DO YOU DARE?”

“Oh, we have to do this.” Olaf said, pointing at the tower. 

Ezra hesitated. “Uh…”

T’Luni grabbed his arm reassuringly. “It appears to have a seventy-eight percent chance of structural stability. Acceptable risk.”

They strapped themselves in. The ride began with a slow, dreadful click-click-click as their car climbed the tower. Ezra stared straight ahead, hands gripping the safety bar tightly. “This is fine,” he muttered, “Totally fine.”

T’Luni was looking out towards the horizon. “The elevation does provide an admirable view.”

Then came the drop. 

For one glorious, stomach-flipping moment, they were weightless – falling faster and faster towards the ground. Then suddenly yanked violently into a gravity-defying loop, spun them upside-down, corkscrewed them into a tunnel, and rocketed them back into the loading bay before Ezra could even breathe properly. 

When the restraints lifted, T’Luni disembarked with perfect composure. 

Ezra stumbled a little, but managed to stay upright. 

Olaf, however, staggered towards the nearest trash can, pale as a ghost, and promptly emptied the entire carnival menu he consumed into it. 

Ezra patted him on the back gently. “I told you, tactical error.”

T’Luni peered into the trash can, then back at Olaf. “Impressive. Most humans would have lost consciousness after combining those dietary choices with that much kinetic trauma.”

Olaf groaned and waved her off. 

“Okay,” Ezra said, brushing off his sleeves, “That was definitely enough rides. Maybe now we –”

He stopped, because Olaf had straightened up, wiped his mouth and said joyfully, “What’s next?”