We start our walk back to the office; it's only then that I realize I forgot to ask Lysander for the comms device back. 

"Hey man, I uhh…" I start. I notice him reaching into one of the pockets of his new pants.  Fine pair of jeans those are. Is he reaching for a tissue or something.

“Here, before I forget.” Lysander hands over the comms device. Lucky he was thinking about it too.

“Good thing it wasn’t damaged in all the fighting.” I stash the device into my workbag. “These things are built to last, at least.”

Wait, if he was keeping it in his pockets, does that mean he was sitting on it… ugh, I don't want to think about it. I'll ask later. That Doctor Pestilence or whatever her name was… I think she's gotten to both of us, actually.

“Yea, verily, both a fortunate happenstance and a testament to the expert craftsmanship of this world’s mechanics."

I nod. "Hell yeah, only top-of-the-line equipment for the best and brightest of the Survey Team."

"Thou should count thyself lucky to be among the cream of the crop, no?"

Oh, shit, I haven't told him that either... I guess it just never came up, but could he really not tell? "No, I'm just a temp. I, uh, had to substitute for a sick person."

"Ah," says he. "Still, 'twas noble of thee to take on the mantle of someone else. Shouldering the burden of another is still a worthy cause."

I shake my head. "Nah, I didn't have much choice in the matter. I was the only person available at the time."

"Well... um... regardless, thine actions have proven thy responsibility, no?"

"Yeah, sure. If you see it that way."

We walk in silence for some time before the ever-curious Lysander has yet another question to ask.

"Sir Chaikovsky..." Lysander clears his throat. "When I was riding here upon horseback, I noticed an oddity of the surroundings. Would thee kindly care to explain it for me?"

"Sure, what is it?" Wow, are our two worlds already close enough to travel between on a horse? That's crazy. No doubt they'll be even closer after the merge. But, then again, his horse is pretty fast... a couple minutes on his horse might be about two hours on the monorail for me. I gotta measure that thing's top speeds. 

"There were several fluctuations in the cycles of day and night as I rode, yet when I arrived here it felt as if only an hour had passed." He looks at me with his deep dark eyes, expecting me to give a good answer. "Why is that, pray tell?"

Easy, that's just time-space dilation from the manipulation of spacetime. Gotta love relativity.  "Oh, that's easy to explain. It's like..." 

"Like what?"

"It's like, uh... um... when you..." Okay, it's not as easy as I thought it would be. The words just aren't coming out right today, are they. Gah, how would Vita say it? "When you're sewing, you fold fabric up to make a hem for, like, pants or something... when you're folding the fabric upon itself, it means the distance the needle and thread have to travel gets way shorter. Merging is like stitching worlds together, right, but before you get to stitch you have to fold the fabric first... and I guess in this metaphor you're the needle? But also you're not the one bringing the worlds together. Um."

"No, no... I think I understood some of thine explanation." Thank fuck Lysander isn't as stupid as I am. "Let us say it's more akin to an ant on a piece of fabric while it is being sown together, yes... and the ant's journey shortens in length if its path happens to intersect with those sections that have been sown together, compared to sections which have not been stitched together?"

Uh, yeah... I think he's smarter, at least. I can't tell, at least not when I'm having to parse through those archaic words anyway. "Yeah, yeah, basically."

"Why do the people of this world not use such convenient technologies more frequently, then?"

"You mean like, wormholes and stuff?" I grimace as I think about how bad going through gateways multiple times a day would be. "No thanks. I don't know about everyone else, but I personally wouldn't. It's just too hard on my joints and head and stuff; didn't you feel like you were being squashed and stretched when you went through?"

Yeah, I guess it would be common sense to use all that stuff more, but... We still don't know all the side effects that warp tech might have, even though we've been using it for as long as I've been alive... better not tell him that, though. Don't wanna scare him off.

Lysander looks at me with befuddlement. "No, not at all. Although, by the sound of it, the toll it takes upon the body is something I pity thee for having to endure."

Damn it, he doesn't even feel the pain. Not like I do, at least. "Well, I was gonna congratulate you on not having to use those gateways anymore, but I guess there's nothing to congratulate you for..."

"Ha ha, spare me thy praises, Sir Chaikovsky." Lysander brushes strands of his golden hair over his shoulders. "I must negotiate with thy superior first, then I shall become truly praiseworthy." 

I nod. "Oh yeah, I understand. You want a better deal for your people, right?"

"Yes, of course. I must strive to obtain the best result for them, and I need thy assistance..." He stretches his fingers. The knuckle-cracking noise sounds so out-of-place coming from his dainty hands. Even legendary heroes have gas building up in their joints too...

Wait, my assistance? In what way... no, ah, I get it now. So obvious. "You wanna unionize? Yeah, it's a good way to go. I guess you'll be fine. We've already got a few unions going, maybe you could try joining one for a bit before you start anything new. If you wanna start one, I could help a bit."

Lysander squints at me. "A... union?"

"You know, like a group of people that stick together and fight for better rights in the workplace and stuff." I sure explained that good.

He nods anyway. "Hm, like a guild? I do have some experience with guilds, though I hath not personally joined one in the past."

"Well, it'll be easy for you to start up a group of any kind." I laugh, thinking about the crowd of people back in Lothariton. "People just love you."

He scratches the back of his head, smiling a sheepish smile. "Ah, really... I have been told similar things in the past. Perhaps my love for people has reflected upon them, like the sea's waters reflect the sun's light. But, in any case, I hope the charisma thou see'st within me can influence thy superior, Sir Chaikovsky."

Getting closer now. I can see the office doors and the returns terminal with all its grass. Oh how I wish I could be taking a nap on that nice soft grass... or maybe the grass outside Lothariton... hahaha... I don't wanna go back in the office. It's supposed to by my off day, for fucks' sake...

"Yeah, hopefully. I mean, the boss already cut you a pretty sweet deal, but I guess you could try to bend it more by talking about your guys."

A flash of something hopeful lights up the insides of his dark eyes. Maybe I'm just seeing things, though. "Perhaps I can even---"

Just a few more steps...

"We're here." 

Lysander and I slow down once we're in front of the workplace. He looks up, mouth agape. "So... this was what I saw at the gates..." he mumbles.

"Save your amazement for when we're done with the boss."

We've stopped just in front of an imposingly tall building that towers over the structures around it, making even the skyscrapers and elevated residences seem like nothing but ants crowding around a gigantic treetrunk. The windows are mirrored glass, reflecting the exterior world with a striking clarity. From the ground, the whole ensemble seems to stretch infinitely upward, even though I know full well there's only about a hundred floors.

"How..."

I'm feeling quite proud of myself for managing to land a job here. I cross my arms and strike a pose. "Well? Impressive, right?"

Lysander nods with great enthusiasm. "Indeed! I am fain to venture inside. But what does the writing upon its side say?"

"Hm? What writing?" Silly me, he must be looking at the company logo. It almost blends in with all the visual noise of the reflections on the windows.

"That." He points to the logo.

"Oh, that..."

“PICI,” reads the logo on the side — Patchwork Industries Conglomeration Incorporated, my employers. Otherwise known as the Patchwork Conglomerate.

I dismiss it with a wave of my hand. "Aw, that's nothing. Don't worry about it."