–What do you mean?
–He doesn’t seem to think of me in that way.
–Unrequited love, is it?
Balot didn’t answer for a long time. Eventually Tweedledum broke the silence with a cheerful laugh.
–Well, he’s a half-baked little thing, always indecisive and wishywashy. “I might only be a little mouse, but I’m a thinking mouse,” that’s the sort of thing he used to bellow. He’d do well to chill out a little.
–He finds it hard to tell a lie.
–Yeah, his species sniffs out emotions through body odor, Tweedledum said frankly, as if that explained everything. Seeing that it didn’t, he shook his head and continued.
–He doesn’t even really understand what it is to tell a lie. That’s what makes him so awkward and indecisive. What a guy to fall for, right? Well, you’ll have plenty of time to work it out. It’ll test your patience, though.
Balot laughed in spite of herself. She’d never thought the day would come that she would listen to a dolphin giving her advice on how to love a mouse. The whole world had gone crazy—but was none the worse for it. The world had always been a crazy place, and it might as well go that extra mile and get it over with.
My reality is just that—my reality. As she thought this, she relaxed, and her emotions seemed to extend even further. Not that they hadn’t been spreading before, but now she felt that they had finally reached her heart. She was thawing.
–I did a terrible thing to Oeufcoque.
–Hey, where did that come from?
Tweedledum slowed down, surprised.
–I used him so hard that I ended up abusing him. And even then, he protected me to the bitter end.
–Okay, I get it now. He’s back here for maintenance because of—
–Because of me. I’m the one who made Oeufcoque suffer like that.
–Well, he’s half immortal. You don’t need to worry too much.
–Immortal? He won’t die?
Balot was astonished. Tweedledum laughed and returned to the side of the pool.
–He has a multidimensional body. When his body’s injured in one dimension, it can be repaired from another dimension. That’s the great advantage of a Living Unit. He won’t die unless you blow him to pieces in all the different dimensions, or crush the nucleus of his life. He does have a life span, though.
–Life span?
–Yeah, that’s the weak point of a Living Unit. All living creatures die sometime. As a matter of course. That’s the first principle of this sort of unit. And that’s what’s so remarkable about Oeufcoque.
–What do you mean?
Balot felt startled, and she grabbed onto the ledge to steady herself. She stared at Tweedledum, feeling that the conversation was entering dangerous territory.
–Obesity.
Tweedledum’s voice was curiously meek.
–Mice gain weight all through their natural lives. They grow bigger and bigger. Can’t help it— something to do with their metabolism, So, even if you use longevity-enhancing procedures, as long as the weight issue remains, sooner or later they end up crushed to death by their own body mass. However much you try shunting your weight off into different dimensions, in the end you can’t outsmart Mother Nature.
–A disease? And is there no cure?
–Not sure you can really call it a disease, babe. More like the inevitable course of nature. That’s why, according to Oeufcoque, he first felt the need to leave this place—when he first had his intimation of mortality, as he put it.
–What does that even mean?
Tweedledum stopped for a moment.
–Ah, who knows? It’s not as if I’m ever even going to be leaving this place. Ask him yourself, why don’t you?
Balot nodded, realizing that she’d touched on a sensitive subject. But she couldn’t stop herself from asking:
–What about you—have you ever wanted to leave this place?
She regretted asking the question as soon as the words had been transmitted. Tweedledum lifted his face into the air.
–How would I live?
Balot couldn’t answer. Indeed, it wasn’t really a question that Tweedledum was asking—rather, he was giving an answer. It hit home sharply. But Tweedledum continued in a gentler vein.
–I have this ocean. I have peace, and I have plenty of stimulation and excitement. Maybe everything’s an experiment, but there’s a certain pride in knowing that my existence is, in and of itself, at the forefront of cutting-edge research. And, above all, I have Tweedledee. Nah, babe, I can’t leave here, but I also wouldn’t want to, even if I could. But what about you, eh? Why don’t you settle down here? With your Oeufcoque.
–What, me…?
–The outside is just full of danger, right? Locking out the outside world—that’s one way to ensure that life thrives.
But Balot ever so gently shook her head. She whispered back,
–I made my choice. To live outside the shell—to survive.
–I get it…
And then Tweedledum cried out for the first time. A fine, pure cry that seemed to squeeze Balot’s chest tight.
–I wonder what the real ocean’s like…
She heard his words just as clearly as she heard his keening cry.
–They’re back, babe.
Tweedledum spoke, and Balot rested her upper body on the ledge of the pool, sensing Tweedledee coming toward them through the forest.
She thought that he was supposed to be bringing somebody with him to introduce to her, but he seemed to be on his own, carrying a boxlike object. A large one. From a distance it looked something like a birdcage.
–Hi, sorry to keep you waiting.
Soon Tweedledee was back with them, smiling.
Balot went to pull herself out of the water with both arms, but her body suddenly became stiff.
Tweedledee was indeed carrying a birdcage. Or at least something that looked just like one.
And inside it was a human head.
Tweedledee stopped walking and stood still. He was still grinning, evidently enjoying Balot’s surprise.
The face inside the cage had the same expression.
“Hello, Rune-Balot. I’m the Supreme Warden of Paradise,” said the face inside the birdcage. He was a man, on the old side of middle aged. His bright white hair was cleanly cropped, and he was closely shaven. His slender face was etched with deep wrinkles, but he had a refined, gentle expression. The only thing that was at all odd about him was the fact that he didn’t seem to have any body parts other than his head.
“Everyone calls me Professor. Professor Faceman, that is. Quite an appropriate name for someone in my present state, don’t you think? Some people go one step further and call me Facemanin-the-Cage. Which is truer still, wouldn’t you say?”
Balot had forgotten about even her own nakedness and was staring at the Faceman-in-the-Cage, as he put
