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High in the sky above Penacony the stars fall silently, and golden feathers float gently in the air above the deserted streets of the Golden Hour. The famous lights of the Planet of Entertainment are dimmed, as if the endless Dream, or rather its creator, wishes to give whoever finds themselves in this place not a bright distraction, but peace and contemplation.
Doctor Ratio looks around him at the familiar but hardly recognizable views of Penacony and then turns to the elegant silhouette nearby. His expression is as unimpressed as his tone when Ratio asks:
"Is that all?"
"Simplicity is the highest degree of sophistication, is it not, Learned Doctor?"
"It is. However, I still expected more imagination from the ambitious mind of one who has almost ascended to aeonhood." Sunday does not answer immediately. Still standing sideways to Ratio, he waits for one of the golden feathers to slide into his open palm.
"I don't want to overstimulate your brain. After all, you came to me precisely because your brilliant intellect was keeping you awake."
Ratio winces slightly behind him.
"Well. That's… reasonable enough, I suppose."
"Besides, I recognized in you the same worries that used to keep me awake, and I figured that the same remedy that helped me would help you."
Sunday sighs heavily, and Ratio can imagine that even with an army of assistants, running an entire planet was a merciless burden. As the head of the Oak Family and the chief administrator of Penacony, Sunday must have been available to both his employees and his guests at all times, and vacation days must have been a distant dream. The melancholy in Sunday’s voice betrays that he, too, is remembering his former life:
"When we were still small children, and even later, my sister used to offer me a scene very similiar to this to comfort me. A sweet dream is the softest pillow, she would say, before giving me… the charitable fantasy of being free, safe, and in the company of a friend. For, however humble the idea, it carries with it great comfort: there is someone who remembers me kindly and would like to be near me."
Sunday turns to Ratio, placing a hand on his chest.
"But this dream is not mine, although I gladly assist you with it, Learned Doctor. Will you accept this dream as my gift to you?"
A pause. Whether it is because of his mental exhaustion, caused by physical exhaustion and felt even in his sleep now, or for other reasons, Ratio is inclined to agree. Besides. He really did come for help himself.
"Alright. I'll take it if it's necessary for the desired result." Sunday nods and extends his hand.
They wander the empty streets of Penacony and have a very long, inspiring, and witty conversation about anything and everything. They even joke about something together and laugh, although the details quickly escape Ratio, as happens in dreams. But one way or another, Ratio really feels the comfort that Sunday spoke of.
The two of them cross the entire city before deciding to sit down on an observation platform. Then Ratio notices that at some point he and Sunday intertwined their fingers. Ratio looks at their joined hands, wondering why he doesn't mind.
Sunday notices his confusion and comments: "I merely listened to you and adjusted this detail. But you do not have to explain this gesture to me or to yourself, neither now, nor later. It is enough to understand that all of us are ready to want more when we feel safe. And I do not mind giving you that... warmth that you want from someone else. I know a thing or two about how lonely it is to be a guiding light for everyone and for no one at the same time. Consider it one of those secrets that remain between friends, if I may call you one."
Ratio does not withdraw his hand while he is listening to the explanation only because he does not want to look embarrassed and thereby reveal how right Sunday is - far more right than he is willing to admit to himself. Ratio does not allow himself to think that the other hand, if it were holding his own like this, would be wearing a much thinner glove, and if taken without it, it would not be warm at all.
Fortunately, Ratio is perfectly capable of defending himself by attacking others. Therefore, after a couple of seconds he chuckles and begins a mocking interrogation.
"It is curious that you decided to give me this, too, as I will not remember what happens in this dream anyway. So. Your choice now is dictated by prudence - or simply caution? That is, are you afraid that I may subconsciously remember the details of the story and are holding back other gestures only for this reason?"
Sunday smiles and shakes his head. He looks at the silent spectacle in the sky and says:
"Do not fret, Learned Doctor, I have already found my companion and now I am simply playing with you, or to be precise, playing along with you, whether you realize it or not. I wouldn't change the plot of this dream to something more, even if you asked me directly. Besides, it would simply be counterproductive. The psychological intensity of anything else might wake you up, you know."
It's obvious from Sunday's carefree expression that he really isn't interested in anything other than the dream of a walk together, that he himself is currently enjoying this plot of rest, mental exchange and mutual affection. And suddenly Ratio realizes something.
"Are you, too, sleeping now?"
"Not exactly. I'm dozing with my eyes open. But it's time for both of us to come to our senses. Thank you for your friendly openness. I'll remember that. I hope you'll remember at least the general feeling, too."
The last thing Ratio catches before waking up is a gentle appeal to him and a supportive squeeze of his hand:
"You are forgiven for every moment of weakness and doubt, Learned Doctor. Every step of your journey is easy and light, and every breath is a hopeful promise you make to yourself. For we can work only after we have rested, and we can value our waking hours only after a deep sleep."
And here Ratio is again in the compartment of the Astral Express, lying on a fully made bed of a stranger, fully dressed, as if he had closed his eyes for only a moment - except for the appearance of a light sheet covering him. He is not alone in the room, for Sunday - the young man from his dream, the same but different, just a mortal like him on this plane of existence - is reading, legs crossed, in a chair on the other side of the room. Ratio gradually remembers the situation before and during the dream and sits up in bed. Sunday notices his movement and takes out his earplugs.
"Ah. Please excuse me, Learned Doctor. I had to put in the earplugs because you were talking in your sleep. Although, don't worry: I didn't understand a thing you said."
Ratio is still trying to comprehend the surrounding reality, and his attention is drawn to the plate with a cake and a faintly steaming cup on the coffee table next to Sunday's chair. For this reason, the first thing Ratio says when he comes to his senses is an accusation.
"In the dream, you told me that you were only half asleep all this time. Does that mean that this cup just materialized here by itself?"
Sunday smiles in a way that Ratio doesn't quite understand.
"No. You trusted me with your rest, and I didn't leave you for a minute. But Mr. Yang came to ask about our progress some time ago."
"How long did I sleep?"
"About twelve hours. The Express crew has already had breakfast and lunch."
"What?"
Ratio swings his legs out of bed. Naturally, his body had decided to exhaust this opportunity to rest after having to deal with stress-induced headaches and insomnia for two weeks. Yes, it was only natural. But Ratio was still not happy about it. He leaves the bed, shaking his head, irritated and embarrassed.
"I have to go."
"I suppose so." Sunday picks up the plate with the piece of cake. "The universe awaits its dedicated, well-rested healer."
Ratio realizes that he has not yet expressed his gratitude. He does so, and quite sincerely, although his tone and choice of words are filled with his typical irony.
"Thank you for your kind assistance."
"If you ever have trouble sleeping, I will always be happy to help you again, Learned Doctor. You can even just call me in such cases. My remaining powers are not too susceptible to the influence of physical boundaries. Although, naturally, I really enjoy meeting you in person."
Ratio narrows his eyes in suspicion.
"Didn't you say before that you, and I quote, had 'already found a companion'? Or is that one of the things I wasn't supposed to remember?"
Sunday laughs.
"I also said that I enjoy playing with you."
"Better stick to your puzzles," Ratio waves his hand dismissively and heads for the exit.
"They say that travel - especially in good company - changes a person, and I'm afraid that's true."
The compartment door opens before Ratio can get close enough to it to trigger the sensor. Behind him, Sunday can't physically see the newcomer, but he still warmly addresses the visitor who is adjusting his glasses, as if Sunday has no doubt who it must be now:
"Come in, Mr. Yang. We were just finishing."