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Arvel Dint was not the sort of person who got easily lost. But at this particular moment, he had absolutely no idea where he was.
“This blasted city hall,” he muttered to himself as he walked along a seemingly endless catwalk. Arvel was fairly certain most municipal buildings were not supposed to have long skybridges devoid of guardrails— particularly not ones that were lit solely by illuminator strips that, while perfectly bright and visible themselves, did not seem to make the vast room any brighter. In fact, though he had absolutely no trouble seeing where he was going, he could not make out anything of his surroundings through the inky darkness except for the crisscross of similar catwalks above and below him, curving into what seemed like infinity. “This is without a doubt the least practical facility I have ever set foot in.”
Seeking some sort of signage to direct him out of this horrid warehouse or whatever the hell he was wandering through, he cast his eyes upon a great round doorframe in the distance. As he laid eyes upon it, he swore he heard someone speaking nearby. “What is this planet coming to, huh?” the voice hiccuped. “Shlummies walkin’ around the upper city!”
“I have as much a right to be here as you,” Arvel insisted indignantly, casting his eyes about in search of its owner— but he couldn’t see another living soul in this blasted darkness. “I’m simply trying to find my way around this confounded building. I don’t suppose you could be of any help?”
“If you dare travel those dark tunnels,” said another voice, “you would be wise to go heavily armed, unless you wish to become a meal for the rakghouls and other foul creatures.”
“What the devil is a rakghoul and why are they loose in city hall?” Arvel demanded, aghast. “I say, where are you?”
He proceeded towards the doorframe, which seemed to lead into a cantina. Why there was a cantina down here, he hadn’t the foggiest. Sticking his head across the threshold, he tapped a man on the shoulder. “Excuse me, I’m afraid I’m quite lost and I—”
“Go away.”
“Well, I would very much like to, but I haven’t the foggiest—”
“One.”
“Is it true there are creatures down here? Whoever—”
“Two.”
“Now see here!” Arvel straightened. “I’m simply trying to get out of this place.”
The man did not acknowledge him further. Arvel decided to try an alternate path. As he walked, he kept hearing voices with no discernible source.
“SOCKS?! This is a total waste of my potential!”
“One man’s trash is another man’s bad idea.”
“My only regret is that I ate that hoagie.”
“Hey. Farmboy. We’re not related, are we?”
Arvel found that the doorway he was approaching was not a doorway at all, but some sort of two-dimensionally-animated children’s holodrama playing on a screen. He felt around the frame in search of a control panel, that he might change the channel to something more helpful, like a map, but to no avail. “Who the bally hell designed this place?” he muttered to himself as he went in search of an alternate exit. Conference Room 316-A24 had to be somewhere.
“Most illogical, Captain.”
“I don’t believe in a no-win scenario.”
“I’m a doctor, not a bricklayer.”
“Where the devil are these blasted voices coming from?” Arvel wondered aloud. “Why can’t they be any help?”
“Good chair. Good chair. Nice lumbar support. Great view of… utter blackness.”
“A buddy of mine saw Kylo Ren take his shirt off in the shower and he said that Kylo Ren had an eight-pack. That Kylo Ren was shredded.”
“That’s the kind of thing an idiot would have on his luggage!”
“Somehow… Palpatine returned.”
“Look at this couch! Somebody threw out a whole couch and it’s in great shape.”
Arvel peered through each doorway as he passed, but none of them seemed to lead back into the main corridors. “I’m not certain I’m allowed to be here,” he muttered as he turned around once again to seek an alternate path. “They really should have put a sign that said ‘Employees Only.’”
“I call claimsies!”
“I can bring you in warm… or I can bring you in cold.”
“Must everything be boring and sad?”
“Like a bantha!”
This certainly seemed to be the right direction, but the voices gave no indication. “Should I turn left here, or right?”
“I don’t like sand. It’s coarse and rough and irritating…”
“Left,” he decided.
He spotted what looked like a corridor through one of the doorways. “Perfect!” he thought to himself. “Finally a way out of this place.”
He stepped through and realized he’d been here before. “Blast it, this is the parking garage! Have I gone in a circle?”
He turned around to see back where he’d came. But in place of the sprawling backrooms he’d been wandering for the past several minutes, there was only rows of parked speeders. “How in the galaxy…”
After turning around in a full circle twice, he shrugged with exasperation and headed towards the turbolift. At least now he knew where he could find a holomap.