Sullivan emerged from a Door that was marked with a leaf—perfectly imitating the seal of the NYC Parks Department—and stepped into the eight hundred and forty-three acres of rolling green known as Central Park. Sully immediately tried to shield his eyes from the bright sun, infused as it is with far more ultraviolet and infrared than that of The Seems. But even with his elbow above his forehead he couldn’t stop the sights and sounds of New York City from rushing in. A Rollerblader blasted by, joyfully using the Fixer and Keeper of the Records as pylons in her obstacle course. Tall stone and glass buildings loomed over the park on all four sides, while the sounds of ambulances, jackhammers, and two men haggling over the price of a shish kebab melded together in a pop single worthy of one of Sully’s precious Records. In his adventures in The World and The Seems, Fixer #37 had been to many strange and out-of-the-way places, but none of them flooded all twelve of his senses21 like this one.
