Take the electroshock therapy and the tablet. Mae Wilkins and cohorts have invented a drug which allows her a surrealist entrance into other dimensions, to travel down wormholes. And that is what she does: she ventures into worlds of talking gorillas' who smoke hand rolled joints with monocles, discussing the loose-leaf quality like colonial tobacco. She witnesses over-evolved humans that project their feelings on holograms which serve effectively, efficiently, and effortlessly as psychologist, confidant, and closest friend. She rides in butterfly winged cars, flapping open midflight, and trains zipping through the space savanna as passengers peer and peek out of their glass tubes at the flooded terrain. She lands on Jupiter, which has the earliest interstellar settlements, as the other planets are only able to be harnessed by drones—unmanned planes occupying the commercialized constellations—for their resources. Thanks to her, menial work has been eliminated, but as an intergalactic and inter-dimensional resident, she causes a universal existential crisis (declared an act of terrorism) having designed a paradoxical mental puzzle that holds consciousness hostage to its conscience. This act of intellectual boredom alters fate and she's trapped in a multiverse prison, the makings of her own mistakes, with but a single comic book to peruse ad infinitum. Decipher the rune and escape with her or merely tag-along on this wacky exploit.