A bad smell led him into higher dimensions. Now he’s spiralling through an existential mess out of his depth, and dangerously close to mattering.

Finkle Bijaka knew two things: the smell was unbearable, and it definitely wasn’t natural, which meant it was probably interdimensional. So he did the only logical thing: slipped into REM sleep and astral travelled into the higher realms to track it down. Instead, he stumbled into a situation so warped, the smell was the least of his problems.

Now he’s the unwilling star of a tragicomic soap opera broadcast across all of Existence, and reluctantly swept into a so-called historic mission by shape-shifting relatives who navigate chaos like it’s their home turf.

Armed with a leafy forehead upgrade he doesn’t understand and a floating arrow that refuses to point anywhere sane, Finkle must navigate unstable dimensions, decipher metaphysical bureaucracy, and, above all, try not to wake up. Meanwhile, there's a broken piece of reality gift-wrapped on a shelf back home collecting dust that could quite possibly be the cause of the whole mess. As things unravel further, a creeping suspicion grows that he’s not the hero of this saga. He’s the problem. 

If you like your fiction flummoxing, existentially unhinged, and with a dash of dry humour, step inside. Warning: it gets weird in here.