The next day, Proto was reminded that he had a job—one that, alas, was much less interesting than making the world a fairer place one dream at a time. He put on boring business-casual clothes, walked to the office, and analyzed some A/B tests. The sun rose, and the sun sank.

  Wasting time at his day job felt preposterous and frustrating. He had limited time to gain the precious knowledge needed to save the future. Soon, he would get into his car accident, go into a long-term coma, and arrive at Somnus’ Palace, ready or not.

  And here he was, doing marketing work!

  On the other hand, he also knew that if he wasn’t careful, he could end up altering the future so his car accident and his time at Somnus’ Palace never happened. Without his knowledge of the future, he never would’ve considered quitting his day job. It felt dangerous to make such a big decision based on his future knowledge. What if that steered Fate onto a new road where his accident would never happen?

  So, in short, Proto rushed to get his work done and left as early as possible, but he didn’t quit his job.

  There wasn’t enough time left in the day to do anything too significant. He therefore decided to grab a drink and plan out his approach to Mercune’s dream tonight.

  Starbucks’ green awning soon loomed before him. It probably would’ve been responsible for him to buy a coffee inside and start drinking and thinking.

  Instead, Proto found himself entering the door next to it and climbing the stairs to Black’s Rock. After months of armagnac, absinthe, whisky and cocktails after work, old habits were hard to break.

  “What’ll it be, Dude?” asked the bartender with Somnus-hair and a Jag-sweatsuit, as Proto sat at the bar. It looked like Black wasn’t here.

  “Absinthe.” Proto pointed out a bottle. “Double-shot, one ice cube.”

  The bartender eyed the bottle. “Dude, that’s for Sazeracs. I don’t think it even has a price.”

  “A few of these bring insight!” Somnus had observed, holding up his absinthe.

  Yes, Proto was just being responsible and following the Lord of Dreams’ wise and sage advice.

  “Whatever seems fair,” waved Proto.

  “Will do, Van Gogh,” replied the bartender.

  “Proto.” He held a hand out for a handshake.

  “Jakeson.” The bartender gave a fistbump instead, then grabbed the absinthe. “That was Van Gogh, right? Drank this stuff, painted the starry sky, and cut off his ear?”

  “A few of these bring insight, and a few more bring idiocy!” Somnus had observed.

  “Don’t let me near any scissors,” replied Proto.

  “You got it.”

  The bartender got Proto his drink and wandered off to clean some tables, leaving Proto alone at the bar, with The Strokes blasting in the background.

  But any hope of solitary pondering was dashed when two girls emerged from the bathroom a moment later—one small girl with black hair and a slim red dress, and one tall girl with blonde hair and a loose white frock. They started toward a table with several colorful and mostly empty drinks.

  Then, the small girl abruptly turned and pointed at the bar. “We’re being boring. Let’s go sit there!”

  “Yes! We’re much too young and childfree to be sitting at tables,” agreed her blonde companion.

  “We’re in this together, Helen!” cried the black-haired girl.

  “To the bitter end!” affirmed the taller one. “Cats, wine, book clubs, and hot baths in empty houses!”

  “That doesn’t sound too too bitter,” observed her friend.

  “Yes. And it sounds more like my daily life than the end,” observed the blonde.

  “Hm,” pondered the smaller girl. “To the bar then?”

  “Yes. Godspeed!”

  Proto blinked as they came closer. He recognized them. He’d only met them once, of course. But he wasn’t about to forget that Midsummer night.

  The black-haired girl waved to Proto. “Hi there! I’m Himari. My tall blonde friend is Helen. May we sit here?” she asked with exaggerated politeness, pointing at the two barstools beside him.

  It probably would’ve been responsible for Proto to say something like, “Sure. Don’t mind me. I’m just busy doing work here,” and shrug apologetically, pointing at his phone.

  Instead, Proto said, “These seats? They’re saved.”

  “What! Lies!” cried Helen. She and Himari looked at each other with their bottom lips out. “For whom are they saved?”

  “A couple people I’m buying drinks for,” replied Proto.

  What am I doing.

  Helen and Himari exchanged another glance, eyes widening.

  “Ooh, it’s happennning!” sang Himari to Helen.

  “We’re GSIs, you see. This is very exciting,” Helen explained to Proto.

  “Yes, we’re newbies. Be nice!” urged Himari.

  No newbie here, he thought grimly.

  “How about some mezcal?” he said gamely.

  “Mezcal?” repeated Helen over the blasting music. “I don’t know what that is. But I’m sure I can’t afford it!”

  “I can,” said Himari, “but I’m also not sure what it is.”

  “Jakeson, three mezcals please,” called Proto.

  “And a negroni,” added Helen.

  “And a whisky highball,” added Himari.

  Proto blinked and looked at them.

  “Thank yooou!” sang Himari.

  “We’re in your debt,” agreed Helen. “And we don’t even know your name!”

  “Proto.” He held a hand out for a handshake.

  “What! Porno?” Himari slapped his hand away like a dirty sock.

  “Porno? You poor thing,” said Helen. “How have you gotten through life?”

  Proto nodded grimly. He felt like Astrid’s spirit was haunting him and laughing.

  “Don’t be sad. There are worse names,” consoled Helen. “I just can’t remember any right now. Too many negronis.”

  “We won’t even remember you tomorrow!” agreed Himari. “Except maybe your name, Porno.”

  Proto recalled his visit to Helen’s dream. “Yep, that seems about right.”

  “Hey! I’m very sober,” Himari protested. “I can do complicated math. Would you like to know the derivative of 1/2πi times eta squared?”

  “Please don’t encourage her,” Helen urged Proto.

  “I’d like nothing more,” Proto replied to Himari.

  “I ate a pie!” Himari heeheed crazily.

  “Now look what you’ve done!” Helen scolded Proto.

  “I bet you liked to type 5318008 upside-down on your calculator, didn’t you?” Himari challenged Proto.

  “What can I say. 707,” he shrugged.

  “Yes! Me too. 376616!” Himari giggled.

  Proto peered away in thought. “Huh, that’s a good one!”

  “Ugh. First thing we do, let’s kill all the mathematicians!” lamented Helen. “Shakespeare said that.”

  “Math is nature’s language!” retorted Himari. “Galileo said that.”

  “And he got what was coming to him!” declared Helen.

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  “Eternal fame?” suggested Proto.

  “A planet named after him?” suggested Himari. “And a unit of acceleration?”

  “House arrest, you nerdy heretics!” Helen replied. “Bartender! Get me an antidote for nerdiness, pronto!”

  “This is a serious case, but I’ll do my best,” said Jakeson.

  Helen waved dismissively. “I have faith in you. ‘Our doubts are traitors’! ‘All things are ready, if our mind be so’!”

  Himari pointed at Helen. “Hey, Fyrir says I’m funny!”

  Proto’s ears perked up.

  “Or ‘said,’ I guess.” Himari sighed sadly.

  “Hm? Who’s that?” asked Proto, cutting off Helen’s bantering retort.

  “Fyrir? A wrinkled, white-bearded lecher,” answered Helen.

  “A genius!” corrected Himari indignantly.

  “He’s like a philandering David the Gnome,” said Helen.

  “He has the IQ of Heidegger’s and Arendt’s lovechild!” retorted Himari.

  “Ooh. I’d like to read that fanfic,” mused Helen.

  “Like, Fyrir the famous scientist? He was your old boss?” Proto fondly recalled the brilliant, kindhearted, outrageously inappropriate old man.

  “Yep! That’s him,” answered Himari. “But now he’s been exiled to Dubai.”

  Proto frowned. “I . . . didn’t realize exile was still an option.”

  “It is at a university with a Dubai campus!” confirmed Himari.

  “What did he do to get exiled?” asked Proto. “Poach some stags in the king’s wood?”

  “Close! Our lawyer took so long to review our grant application it got rejected. She said Fyrir then called her a ‘slugabed strumpet.’ Said she felt violated. Psh!” cried Himari. “I’ll show you violated!”

  “ . . . well, did he?” asked Proto.

  “Beside the point!” waved Himari. “He’s a genius! Heidegger-Arendt-lovechild IQ. And they exiled him! It’s like Galileo. Confined to his house for saying the Earth orbits the sun.”

  “So, uh, what about the people who work with him? I see you’re still here.” Proto found himself shifting into dream-visitor mode—seeking what she knew, hiding what he knew, and trying to seem casual.

  “Oh, I totally would’ve gone to Dubai. But I was just a lab intern and had a job offer somewhere else,” sighed Himari. “Also, I would miss cosplay conventions. I don’t think they’re allowed in Dubai.”

  “Maybe at the consulate?” suggested Proto.

  “Huh. Clever thought!” mused Himari.

  “Also, Himari has to stay here and be my nerd-friend,” said Helen. “And become a one-percenter at her new job, as I languish in penury.”

  “Actually, just an eight-percenter,” noted Himari. “Or a six-percenter with expected bonus.”

  “As you can see, she’s a math major,” said Helen.

  “5318008!” affirmed Himari.

  Proto decided to take a gamble. “What about that redhead girl who’s always with Fyrir on T.V.? Did she go to Dubai?” He had no idea if Mercune had ever been on T.V., but it’s not like they would know that, right?

  “Porno.” Himari stared at him. “How do you remember a random redhead teen standing by a famous scientist on T.V.?”

  “ . . . uh.” Proto searched for a response.

  “And what prompted you to change the subject to her?” asked Helen. “I mean, we all have types, I know. But this—what, you were watching the science news, and suddenly, love at first sight?”

  “Was this whole conversation designed to get me talking about Mercune?” Himari gleefully asked Proto.

  Well, this wasn’t going in the right direction. And, for once, his intentions were unassailably noble. Saving the future! It felt unfair.

  “That’s her name, by the way. Mercune,” noted Himari. “But it looks like you already knew that, judging by your total lack of reaction when I said it!”

  Helen pointed at Proto gleefully. “Creep creep creep!”

  “That’s Porno for you!” Himari shrugged and waved.

  Proto sighed.

  Himari patted him on the back. “It’s okay, I have an old-man crush on Fyrir. You can have your loli-crush on Mercune.”

  Proto scowled. The one time he was wholly innocent . . . !

  Still, he did have to learn about Mercune, if he wanted to save the future. The future was more important than his dignity. If you can’t beat ‘em . . .

  “So . . . what’s she like?” he asked.

  “I kneeewww iiitttt!” sang Himari.

  Helen beamed and clasped her hands romantically. “Like Romeo and Juliet! You know how old she was, right?”

  Proto sighed again.

  Little Himari looked up at Proto and smiled innocently. “It’s okay, I benefit from having your type in the world.”

  “ . . . yeah, I’m glad we won’t be remembering this conversation tomorrow.” Proto waved toward their many empty glasses.

  Himari tittered. “Yes, drink up!” She followed her own advice.

  Helen lifted a near-empty negroni. “This is my River Lethe! I drink it, forget the world, and am made new.”

  Proto shuddered at the thought of drinking those black waters beneath Somnus’ Palace.

  “One antidote for nerdiness.” Jakeson slid Helen something neon green in a bulbous hurricane glass.

  “Ooh. What is this?” She stared like a pothead at a lava lamp.

  “Called a Tokyo Tea,” explained the bartender. “It’s for people who think Long Islands should be sweeter and have more alcohol.”

  “Is that even possible?” asked Proto.

  “All things are possible with Midori,” replied Jakeson.

  “What a nerd antidote! I almost wish it were for me,” admired Helen. “But others need it more.”

  “Are you sure, Miss River Lethe?” asked the bartender.

  “Boom,” said Proto.

  “Alright! Alright. We’ll share.” Helen’s eyes suddenly brightened. “Bartender, three straws please!”

  “Oh, are we doing the thing!” Himari’s gaze was gleaming too now.

  “Uh-huuhhh,” beamed Helen. She leaned in toward her cup as though sipping from a straw, closer and closer, as Himari did the same.

  Their noses touched—and they fell back into their seats and giggled.

  “Ooh, I dreamt of this as a little girl!” recalled Helen. “Instead I got Tinder.”

  “It could be worse. You could be a little girl still.” Little Himari looked herself over and sighed wistfully.

  “There are worse things,” consoled Helen. “Ask Proto, he wouldn’t have it any other way!”

  “Oh, for Heaven’s sake!” grumbled Proto.

  “Pipe down and enjoy this, Porno!” Himari chastised.

  Their three straws arrived. Jakeson the bartender neatly angled the straws toward the three drinkers.

  “Ooh, this looks nice,” admired Helen, staring at the neon green hurricane glass.

  “I know!” cried Himari. “This glass has more curves than me! Dimitri’s going to be jel jel!”

  “Over the straws or the glass?” asked Helen.

  “I don’t know, we’re not even official yet!” waved Himari. “Anyway, the alcohol will kill the germs.”

  Helen tilted her head. “I struggle to follow your logic. But the alcohol is helping with that too.”

  “Well, to business.” Himari grabbed her straw. “Kanpaiiii!”

  “Himari, that’s not very romantic,” said Helen.

  Himari sighed. “You’re right. Should it be though?”

  “Hm. Porno, what do you think?” asked Helen. “You’re being strangely quiet over there.”

  “I was piping down and enjoying this!” he replied.

  “Ah. Yes, let’s enjoy,” said Helen.

  They leaned in and drank.

  Almost immediately, Helen jerked her head back. “Egads! What am I drinking?”

  Himari giggled. “Straw-sharing isn’t quite what Little Girl Helen imagined?”

  “Don’t you dare give Porno thoughts of Little Girl Helen!” scolded Helen.

  “I’m not sure I like this new inside joke,” observed Proto.

  Helen raised her phone to her ear. “FBI? Yes, I have him right here, Sir. Calls himself Porno.”

  Himari put her phone to her ear. “He’s always typing dirty things on his calculator. Yes, immature. But immature is how he rolls!”

  Proto nodded grimly.

  Helen patted his arm. “It’s okay. We can all be immature together.”

  “‘The only value in this valueless world is what you share with someone when you’re immature,’” replied Proto.

  “Oh, you just gave me my new motto!” cried Himari. “That, or my new Tinder bio.”

  “Loli-bait!” cried Helen.

  Little Himari put her phone to her ear. “Yes Sir, updating the bio now.”

  “Wait, new Tinder bio? What about Dimitri?” asked Helen.

  “We already discussed this!” waved Himari. “Also, that reminds me, Porno. To answer your questions earlier, you’ll be happy to hear, Mercune is not in Dubai yet. She’s finishing the school year first. Also, she likes getting gifts. She loooves getting gifts.”

  Proto blinked. “Ah.”

  “You wanted to know what she likes, right?” said Himari.

  “He said, what is she like,” corrected Helen.

  “But this works too,” Proto assured Himari.

  “Oh, you smutty amoroso!” chided Helen.

  “Smutty amoroso?” repeated Himari. “You English major. I look up to you.”

  Helen looked down at little Himari. “Literally, in fact.”

  “More comments on my height!” complained Himari. “Well, Proto likes it.”

  “Now all you need is red hair,” said Helen. “And maybe stockings.”

  “I feel like I’m a character in a book you’re writing,” observed Proto.

  “Yes, we’re revising you to make you more interesting,” confirmed Helen.

  “Yes, Porno is much more fun than Proto,” agreed Himari.

  “Aha!” Proto pointed at her triumphantly. “You did hear my name.”

  “Himari, don’t deadname our new friend!” rebuked Helen.

  “I’m sorry Porno!” Himari batted her lashes sweetly up at him, her hands clasped and her knees modestly touching. “I’ll get stockings.”

  “You look so cute in that pose!” Helen patted her on the head.

  Himari threw up her hands. “More about my height?!”

  She abruptly climbed atop a nearby table and stood to full height. “Who’s looking up at who now!”

  “It’s ‘whom,’ Himari,” Helen corrected with a wince.

  “You damn English major!” fumed Himari.

  “Don’t you damn my passion!” exclaimed Helen, rising indignantly.

  Himari turned up her nose. “Damn Shakespeare, he’s too wordy.”

  “How dare you!” Helen climbed atop the table and peered down at Himari. “Who’s looking up at whom now?”

  Meanwhile, Jakeson was watching, laughing, and polishing a glass.

  As he did so, Black emerged from the stairway. She frowned as she approached.

  “Who needs height when I have money?” taunted Himari.

  “Who needs money when I have a negroni?” retorted Helen.

  “Who’s going to buy it for you!” said Himari.

  “Dimitri is. Just like he bought me two last week!” Helen shrugged wide-eyed.

  “What?!” cried Himari.

  “Jakeson,” Black calmly began. She was wearing a Grateful Dead T-shirt ripped to a tanktop, which barely reached her belly button—probably size girls’ XL, just like she’d worn eight years ago. Beneath that were her usual short jean shorts. “Do you see anything wrong here?” She pointed at the two girls on the table.

  The bartender looked up at Helen’s and Himari’s legs, then back at Black. “I’m still studying the situation, Boss.”

  “Yeah. I bet,” smirked Black. She faced the table. “Alright, down girls. We’re not that kind of bar.”

  “Who do you think you are!” Himari asked Black.

  “I am a gentlewoman. Thou art a drawer!” declared Helen to Black.

  “That, and the owner of this bar,” shrugged Black.

  “Were I the owner of this bar, you drawer, all things in common nature should produce!” cried Helen, who was on a roll now. “You speak of the people as if you were a god to punish, not a man of their infirmity!”

  “Did she just call me a man?” Black asked Proto.

  “That or a drawer,” replied Proto.

  “I’m still deciding!” fumed Helen.

  “Also, we’d need to weigh at least 127 more pounds to break this table,” added Himari. “I’m a math major, I know these things!”

  “Ookay, ladies, time to head out,” said Black. “I think it’s past your bedtime.”

  “What? Are you exiling us!” cried Himari.

  “Just till you’re blowing beneath a .2,” assured Black.

  “I couldn’t possibly be above a .18, at standard alcohol metabolizing rates. Even at my size!” retorted Himari. “It’s a simple equation. And I’m a math major!”

  Black sighed. She grabbed little Himari by the waist and hoisted her down from the table.

  “I’ve been violated!” cried Himari.

  Black scanned Helen, who was a good bit taller than Black. “Yeah, so, I can’t do that with you.”

  “What?! Are you commenting on my weight?” exclaimed Helen. “You starveling! You elf-skin!”

  “Size discrimination!” agreed Himari indignantly, looking up at Black from below. “An insidious problem!”

  “Girl, you look great, but I’m about to tip this table over,” Black told Helen.

  Helen sighed dramatically—then mischievously looked at Jakeson. “I’m a feeling a bit unstable. Could he hoist me down?”

  Shrugging agreeably, the bartender stepped forward.

  Black frowned, then grabbed Helen’s table and started tipping.

  “Yikes!” Helen half-hopped, half-slid off.

  “Aw,” mumbled Jakeson.

  “Sorry. Can’t be rewarding misconduct!” Black told him.

  Helen and Himari stumbled toward the staircase in sloshed abandonment.

  “By the way, Porno, I loved that mezcal!” called Helen. “I may not remember you tomorrow, but I’ll remember mezcal.”

  “That’s the spirit,” affirmed Proto.

  “Helen, was that a pun?” wondered Himari. “Like, mezcal is a spirit?”

  “You do have an English major in you!” enthused Helen.

  “Helen, can we be friends again?” asked Himari.

  “Oh, Himari! Always,” her friend confirmed.

  And off they went, vanishing down the stairway.