Captain, what song are you humming? Launch music recognition."
"sleepless night."
"I searched… nothing came up."
March 7th stood up, lazily sipping her milkshake.
But soon she couldn't drink anymore; her stomach felt stuffed.
Even if girls have several stomachs (not), once they're full of dog food March 7th can't eat another bite. The two whispered together, and on Caelus's face was a tender, slightly silly yet utterly genuine smile she'd never seen before.
So awkward—watching the Captain and his, uh, beloved cuddling in the dream pool made her feel like a third-wheel light bulb.
March 7th's eyes narrowed to slits, though the corners of her mouth curved up uncontrollably. She tiptoed to the edge of the pool, found the perfect angle, and raised the blue camera Caelus had given her.
"Click!"
"Sneaking pics of the Captain, how dare you."
"Prometheus~ let me cuddle him too, okay?"
March 7th cooed at Prometheus.
Caelus:?
"Why ask Prometheus? Shouldn't you be asking me?"
"Ask you and you'll get stuck; ask Prometheus and I get a straight answer without you being caught between us."
March 7th raised a finger.
"Guess I should thank you."
"You're welcome."
March 7th put her hands on her hips.
Who says this girl's a fool!
This girl's EQ is off the charts!
"Hmph~ cuddle."
March 7th was like a pink kitten.
"Feels like a juvenile clinging to its mother," Prometheus tilted its head.
Caelus:?
"Probably because the first thing I saw out of the ice was… you. You feel incredibly close. Captain, can I stay on your ship forever?"
The sudden straight pitch left Caelus stunned.
Talk about high-gravity words.
He meant to joke it off, but looking into her clear blue eyes—dream-light shimmering with hidden dependence—the quips died.
"My ship…" He paused, voice lower, almost a promise. "As long as she sails the stars and you still want to stay, then stay."
"Really? Then let's make a promise, Captain—once promised, no backing out."
"Sure, then… promise made."
After hooking pinkies she flopped into the dream pool.
Dan Heng next door must already be asleep… might as well follow suit. In the deep sea of memories Caelus's mind drifted toward Penacony.
But the moment he touched Penacony the whole dream began to quake.
It was a question of mass.
With no defenses, his consciousness was too vast—or rather, what was vast wasn't only him.
To most guests lost in sweet dreams it was just a hiccup—extra bubbles in a glass of Soda, lights flickering a tad faster on the dance floor.
But to feed themselves the dream-weavers of Penacony weren't pushovers.
Harsh alarms and staff shouts overlapped.
"Holy crap, who skimped materials when weaving this dream?!"
His soul's sheer weight made the dream-border collapse as he entered.
Luckily Prometheus compressed and lightened it.
"You nearly crushed Penacony flat."
"I'm not David Day."
"Still joking."
They stood on a broad neon-lit street, jellyfish-like ads drifting overhead, costumed crowds laughing, the air thick with drink scents and languid music.
Everything looked air-brushed, too perfect to be real.
"Whoa—!!!" March 7th gasped. "This is amazing!"
But… "You look like you've been here before."
"Hmm? Been here? Maybe I have."
"You definitely have—your face screams 'I know this place like the back of my hand'!"
She shook his arm.
"Nanananana~"
"Are you a sonar? All those na's."
"Take me somewhere fun! Captain, you know the best spots, right!"
She batted her lashes.
Hopeful.JPG
"Quit it, message Dan Heng first."
Caelus: Dan Heng, where are you?
Dan Heng: The Hour of Dusk.
Dan Heng: Need anything bought?
Caelus: Nope.
Caelus: Have fun; here's the activity budget in credits.
"So many zeros!" Her eyes bulged at the sum.
One two three four five… wow!
Five zeros!
"If I don't spend it all, can I keep it?"
"Keep whatever's left."
"Yay!"
After twists and turns she watched him stop outside a fancy-looking shop.
"Are we here?"
She tugged his sleeve.
"I've got it right, Prometheus?"
"Correct, this way."
"Good—follow me."
He lifted a manhole cover and motioned her down.
March 7th:?
Even in Penacony we can't escape this fate?
"Whoa, climbing out reveals this gorgeous view?!"
She stood on the rooftop, dumbstruck.
"You found this yourself?"
She turned; Caelus was lost in thought, unresponsive.
So un-Captain-like.
Usually he'd be gleaming in a junk heap or torturing Dan Heng's logic with absurd claims. Quiet reverie was new.
He seemed to be shaping something; on white paper two gray-haired figures—male and female—took form. In dreams projecting memory onto paper was basic.
Finally the sheet showed a smiling girl who loved oak-cake rolls.
He tossed the paper off the roof.
It spiraled down Penacony's dream-wind, skimmed neon billboards and clear domes of tour boats, vanished among the crowds and lights below.
The girl on the paper loved to laugh and eat oak-cake rolls.
Still, they'd meet again.
...
Caelus leaned back against the railing.
From the border of the Dream-Weaving District the whole of the Penacony Grand Theatre could be seen.
In his perception, every being in this star system had their souls bound by a Path.
Or rather, their own choices, their pursuit of their Path, left them no way to break free.
Those figures walking the streets, lost in sweet dreams, did not have souls that stretched out freely; instead, countless slender yet unbreakable ribbons of light pulled them along. Those countless delicate ribbons, like strings manipulated by an unseen hand, dropped from nowhere and linked every dreaming soul below.
Of course, that included Dan Heng... and March 7th.
On Dan Heng, a steady, sharp cyan track ran true, yet it too was tightly tethered; March 7th's was a riot of shifting colors, brimming with possibility, but likewise unable to escape.
Caelus glanced at himself. He seemed unbound by any Path, yet perhaps that was only because he had already walked too far along one.
Still, without a Path, something else would simply chain the soul.
A soul shackled by something will have its steps snared, yet without attachments, that same soul drifts in emptiness, unable to find direction in the vast universe.
Truly difficult.
But none of that mattered.
'I'm going to stroll somewhere familiar. March, once you and Prometheus are done playing, just drop a message in the group.'
'Eh? Where are you going?'
'Let him be.'
March 7th puffed her cheeks slightly as she watched him leave.
'What's with the mystery... Prometheus, tell me something about the captain's past, will you?'
'Mm~'
Prometheus smiled faintly at the request.
( ᗜ v ᗜ )
'Not telling.'
...Caelus walked through the district called The Golden Hour. Cheerful music, floating goblets, smiles that never faded—everything was so perfect it felt suffocating.
His steps halted before a fountain.
A ribbon of light... a thin ribbon representing Harmony, looked fragile yet proved tough and steady.
Hm?
The person this Harmony ribbon connected made Caelus pause.
A 'familiar face'... in a sense.
Only familiar to him, though.
He reached out, fingertips almost brushing the ribbon pulsing back and forth. A fierce impulse surged—what would happen if he snapped it, severing the Path's bond to the person?
'...Such arrogance.'
He tugged the corner of his mouth, merely withdrew his hand and let the invisible thread sway in his senses. Call it salvation or interference, it was nothing but self-righteous presumption.
He had yet to chart his own course—what right had he to pilot anyone else's? He had no authority to meddle in another's choice.
'Miss, may I buy you a drink?'
Caelus stepped up to Robin.
The superstar, now incognito behind a wig, different makeup, and a pair of spectacles, blinked, politely declined at first, then finally nodded with a helpless smile.
Ice cream... Robin blinked.
This flavor... she remembered it well. As a child, ordered to 'protect her voice', she could only sneak ice cream under her brother's cover.
The Harmony ribbon happened to land across the back of Caelus's hand.
'You look troubled. Is something on your mind?'
Robin pulled her mask down and took a bite of ice cream.
'Mm? There is, actually—like whether people can ever truly understand one another.'
Robin's hand froze almost imperceptibly; behind her lenses, surprise flickered in her eyes.
'Mutual understanding?' she echoed softly, scraping the surface of the ice cream with her spoon. 'It's hard. What do you think?'
'People can understand each other.'
Caelus nodded and answered.
'An optimistic view.'
'Yet once they do, knowing their differences, they often fall into even deeper hostility.'
'Deeper... hostility?' she repeated quietly.
The ideal of Harmony is unity—concord born of understanding.
'Exactly.' His gaze swept past her to the revelers in The Golden Hour, each wrapped in Harmony's ribbons. 'When you realize the other is just as devoted to their own Path, has non-negotiable lines, and sees the very core of your soul as different, it breeds almost unbreakable opposition.'
He looked at Robin, mouth twisting in something not quite a smile.
'Like a choir: everyone thinks they're singing the same tune until the conductor's baton falls and they discover the pitch, rhythm, even the lyrics differ. To prove themselves right, they sing louder, trying to drown the rest, until only raucous noise remains.'
'I think the problem isn't difference itself, but that people rush to drown others with their own melody. If everyone quieted down and listened first, perhaps they'd find parts they could play together.'
'You sound like a seasoned conductor.'
'I'm not,' Robin said at once.
She lowered her eyes to the nearly empty cup, long lashes casting small shadows behind her glasses.
'But what if someone wants to sing of the day that never ends, while another wishes the night would last forever? When goals themselves are opposites, what good does "understanding" do beyond deepening pain?'
'If people truly cannot understand one another—because of individual, racial, class, wealth, or environmental differences—they can still accept one another. I may not agree with you, but I can accept your view.'
Robin replied.
'Then this conversation has been valuable; I've found the answer I sought.'
Seeing Caelus about to leave, Robin rose.
'Shall we exchange contact codes?'
'Hm?'
'You seem like someone with many stories.'
Besides... he had recognized her, and felt strangely familiar—almost the way her brother looked at her.
He raised his hand at last; the soft chime of data exchange sounded between their terminals.