Work Text:
specs: on. ill-fitted. clutched to skull by steady hands.
omniscience.
information bursts and blooms and burns.
unaware enemies a hundred meters away, blocked by walls and mazes.
pile of orbs, jealously hoarded by kecleon who knows nothing of the minutes to come.
monster dens containing hordes and pits of death and traps swallowing their latest victim and fellows awaiting help and and and
glasses are torn off. his vision rocks left and right. the wall standing 'fore him returns, solid.
for all their virtue, the specs' consequences are rarely discussed. minds are not meant to know all, not mortal ones.