I idly hit a key and light explodes in the void. With a chord, whole galaxies form, their spiral arms blazing. I sit and pound out a vast unfurling creation, major geography meeting minor civilizations as the strains of death and rebirth crescendo.
I falter and the worlds fade. People are standing around dumbstruck, and I wonder if they have seen, really seen, what I have.
My mother hurries up. “I’m sorry,” she says, to the onlookers. “He wandered away.”
I hold her hand and we leave the store, the worlds still lurking in that machine, waiting to be found.