This isn't real. The thought hit Kristogar as he held a hand containing three aces and two jacks. It wasn't the hand that made him realize it. It was the knee. Rather, his knee. The knee that tore both the ACL and MCL and possibly more months earlier, that had been getting worse and worse as Velo kept putting off surgery.
Slowly Kristogar got up and walked over to where some shady characters were playing a relatively calm game of pool, ignoring the confusion he was leaving behind at the poker table. He casually took the stick of one of the pool players and swiftly crushed it over his knee--his 'bad' knee.
This confirmed it. What isn't answered is where the devil is he? It couldn't possibly be a virtual reality, and time travel is ruled out immediately. Velo is arrogant enough to presume that were these technological advances to ever take place, he'd be on the ground floor of it.
Velo strolled outside. At face value, he was standing in a perfect replica of New York City. But it was obviously an illusion. The smell of New York was there, the sight of it, the sounds...but the atmosphere was different. Kristogar discovered that that was where illusionists failed. They could recreate everything but the intangible concept of atmosphere. The last time Velo was in New York City, which was recent enough, the atmosphere was that of a country--hell, maybe a world on the brink. Something was bubbling over and waiting to happen, and although Velo wasn't sure of what, he could feel it. He doesn't here.
"So who's the magician?" Velo asks to anyone who may be listening. After a moment's hesitation, he unleashes all his power on the block that he's standing on. "Whoever's out here, come and fucking get me!"
