Daisy is in a primordial wilderness. Concrete totems rise up around her. The man in front of her is a duck-billed lumbering thing, and she does double-dutch over his swinging tail to avoid it. Needle-nosed pliers twist, warp, and deform in her hand, and eventually disappear entirely if not held in her peripheral vision. She has not dropped them, but their reality is, regardless, uncertain.