The wooden bridge groaned under Ryan’s feet, its warped planks defying every known law of timber architecture as the dark, rushing water below flowed upward in a jerky, twenty-four-frame-per-second stutter. Ryan adjusted his crumpled tuxedo, clutching the shard of blue light like a commuter clutching a delayed subway pass. Ahead of him, blocking the narrow span, stood the regional toll administrator, a man whose face bore the permanent, soul-crushing scowl of a DMV worker who had been trapped in his booth since the Pliocene epoch."Halt," the administrator rasped, holding out a parchment ledger that looked like it had been chewed by digital rats. "Toll must be paid in coin bearing the current fiscal seal of the High Registry. Your currency is outdated."Ryan stared at the man, his eyes bloodshot from a sheer lack of cooperative physics. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of miscellaneous metal, dropping a tarnished coin onto the wooden desk."Look, my guy," Ryan said,