Your world is painted in orange and green.

You hold a sphere in your hands. Toss it into the air. Catch it.
Its surface is shiny and impossibly smooth, and it is lighter then you ever would have guessed.

It is empty. Staggeringly, startlingly so. There are other spheres, hundreds, thousands of them in your polished industrial land. They hang like apples from trees of foil and wire. They top off the building and sit, scattered, seemingly randomly across the far off plains. 

Some are dented. Some are molten with oxidation. Many are extremely heavy and placed strategically in places that they must be moved from for you to progress on you quests.

None are quite like this.

Your thumb swipes across its surface and you imagine that you can almost feel the hum of void beneath your fingertips.
Inside this sphere there is nothing. No matter, no particles, simply void.

You disappear the orb, into a pocket that should not be big enough to hold it. Your land shimmers with golden light, but around it, around you, there settles an eerie calm of darkness.

From then on no one ever finds you when you wish to be alone.