A sequel of sorts to the last chapter... I just really liked this idea, haha. Not sure if it's part of my personal fanon, though... pft, who am I kidding? I totally ship the two of them now anyways...

I promise I'll write something non-Clock related... eventually. |D

Inspired by Owl City's "Strawberry Avalanche". Owl City fits Sigmund so well though, aha. Cloudcuckoolander cheerfulness, anyone?

Warning: contains slash of the fluffy variety
Uploaded: Sept 02/2010

-x-

this is a world of dreams / and revelry...

-x-

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Sigmund...?"

He paused in his work to look at me. "Yeah, of course! What could go wrong?"

I chose not to reply to that. I had, much as it pains me to say, grown to trust Sigmund over the years we had lived together at the Great Clock. I had anticipated that turn of events, of course, as living in isolation with another amicable being will foster a friendship very quickly, and it has been repeated to me many times that friendship is nothing without trust. Nevertheless, I was a good deal more... sensible the majority of the time. His wild ideas and the scatterbrained manner in which he chose to attempt them had resulted in more mishaps than I cared to count.

That, and the moment someone says 'what could go wrong?' something invariably does. Something about tempting fate, I believe.

"Shouldn't take too long now... just gotta reverse the polarizer's flux and..."

I was content to listen with one audio and record the more pertinent parts of his commentary. I am a quick learner, but the Great Clock is a massive structure, and I have not had nearly enough time to be versed in all its functions. Many of its less-used systems remain a mystery to me, the Mnemonic Chambers amongst them.
What little I have managed to piece together from my companion's ramblings indicates that they work with pre-installed programs on one's hard drives to create a 'dreamworld' of sorts. To the being running the program, the dreamworld is as real as reality itself. Apparently it is possible to be gravely injured simply through believing one is injured. Sigmund refused to elaborate on the subject, much to my chagrin.

Mnemonic Station Epsilon was our current location. Sigmund had wanted to use the Iota Station, as it was the only one to still not suffer from glitches, though for once I had decided to risk the potential danger. The incredibly large number of puns Sigmund had been able to come up with astonished me, and to be honest I found myself rather glad I had never met Orvus. The thought of my using anywhere near that many gives me cause to shudder.

"Alright! I think we're done!" Sigmund tossed his tool somewhere behind the both of us. I had never quite figured out why he kept the tools on his belt. He never used them; in fact, his using any tool more than once was more often than not a result of one of the Time-Cleaners returning it to its proper place. I can understand the Clock's irritation; for a former trash cleaner, he is remarkably poor at picking up after himself.

"Okay, here goes... you coming?"

"Of course."

He was rather eager to get this latest idea underway, it seemed. He was in the Chamber in moments, optics dimmed and frame limp. I wondered what his dreamworld would appear to be. I supposed that I would be finding out shortly.

I paused before I entered the Chamber. I recalled that speaking to the Clock before we travelled into Sigmund's mind was my responsibility. Communicating with her in lieu of my companion was a task I had been given rather quickly. The two of them were... far from friends, so it was a sensible assignment.

"You will revive us should anything happen?"

"Affirmative," she replied. "I am sure I will be able to run myself for the time being."

I appreciated her sense of humor. I find it is much like mine. Being that, of course, since Orvus' death she had very nearly been running herself. Our role is little more than that of janitors. Wind the Time-Cleaners and do the few things they cannot, and make some sort of attempt to keep the Zoni occupied. The first lesson I learned as Caretaker was that hiveminded energy beings can cause a great deal of mischief when bored and leaderless.

I nodded in affirmation and followed Sigmund into the Chamber. There was just enough space for both of us, though it was uncomfortably cramped. I am... not enthused with small spaces; bad experiences during my travels. Still, it was far better than some of the places I had been, and it was easy enough to push Sigmund aside very slightly. I would survive until the simulation had ended, at any rate.

I initiated the mnemonic program and shuttered my optics, and let my mind wander as best I could.

-x-
-x-

When I opened my optics again... well. I no longer needed to wonder what Sigmund's dreamworld appeared as. I was rather glad he had not insisted we use mine, as I am sure it would have been... far less welcoming. I may be many things, but eager to distress Sigmund is not one of them.

"Sigmund... where is this place?"

"I dunno! Orvus said it might be something my subconscious remembers from before he found me... I guess Viceron might have looked like this before the accident."

I had never seen Viceron before, nor heard of it outside of its occasional mention by Sigmund, so I could neither agree nor disagree. It was certainly a calm world, at any rate; an endless expanse of gently waving grass below and pale blue sky above. There was evidence of a long-gone civilization in the ruined stone structures around us. Forests were visible in the distance; we seemed to be in a rather large meadow. It was a quieting place.

Sigmund approached me. Or, perhaps 'bounced' would be a better word, regardless of the fact that he floated. "You know what? I think we should look different for a little while. Like maybe organics?"

I had no time to protest. He knew of my... dislike of squishies, certainly, though he had a tendency to brush it aside if not forget completely. Perhaps I had not been clear enough... I made a mental note to remind him later.

Sigmund stood changed before me moments later. "How's this? I decided to kinda follow what I look like, which was hard, but-"

"...A Lombax." To say I was not impressed would be something of an understatement.

"Well, I haven't seen many organic species, and I've never been close to one as long as I was close to Ratchet, so I got to get a good scan of - wait, you don't like it?"

My reply was curt. I had seen more than enough of one Lombax in my life. "No."

I regretted it quickly. Organic faces are remarkably good at emoting, and Sigmund was remarkably good at provoking the correct response in me, no matter his form. "Oh... Okay. I'll go back. I just thought-"

"You may remain as a Lombax, if you wish." I was sure I would regret that decision later, but I would have to deal with that eventuality when it arrived. At least the voice was still the same; I could simply imagine he was still robotic. Or, rather... try to.

"Really?" His face... 'lit up', I believe the expression is, and he came very close to hugging me. I did manage to dodge that; I could tolerate his appearing as a Lombax, but his touching me would be unacceptable. He realized this after another failed attempt and stepped back. "Well, thanks. Y'know, you could probably change what you look like too..."

"No." I knew what he was hoping for, and I could find no words to express my distaste for the very idea. Distaste, in fact, might be too mild a word. Perhaps loathing.

"Aww, but... You're so small! Please, Klunk?" And he then made... those eyes. I had heard tales of them, as a certain combination of facial cues that was impossible to resist. I had never given the idea any credence, and I do not think I would have ever been affected by them. However, this was Sigmund, and that knowledge somehow did indeed make them impossible to ignore.

I sighed. "How do I change?"

"You just... think about it. Just picture it, and it'll happen! Maybe closing your eyes will help."

I decided I would humor him. If only for a short while. I closed my optics and looked to the ground, forming an image of the Lombax I despised in my mind. I resisted the urge to mentally butcher it; I had no wishes to change into a dismembered mess. If nothing else, I had no doubts that it would... not prove to be popular with my companion.

After a moment's thought, I began to add and remove details. I did not want to appear as Ratchet himself, merely one of his species. It was a simple matter to adjust the color of the fur, alter the armor, change the eyes to the red I preferred -

"Wow, Klunk, I didn't think you'd go through with it!"

I opened my optics and looked down. The color was the same as I was used to, but the fur... the flesh... I was glad I could not hear my own insides sloshing around. I had not replicated an organic on anything more than a superficial level. Though even that...

"Hey, you alright?" Sigmund reached toward me. Presumably, to offer some type of comfort. It failed.

"Do not touch me." If I looked away from the - my - body, I could simply ignore it. It still felt as through I was robotic, and my vision was... not completely the same, as I could see a hint of a nose, but if I did not concentrate on it I found it would simply disappear.

"Sorry." Sigmund backed away a few steps, shoulders hunched. "If you wanna go back to-"

I snapped at him. "I am fine."

"Oh. Well, okay then. Um..." He looked around, no doubt attempting to find some type of distraction. Or something to do, at least; now that we were here, the dreamworld seemed remarkably... bland. I amused myself for a moment, imagining that we had used my dreamworld instead.

Sigmund, as was his wont, shattered my thoughts with his voice. "You know what? I bet we could do anything here. Well, as long as we don't get hurt doing it. Is there anything you wanna try?"

I realized he was looking at me. Expectantly, I believe. "Yes," I replied shortly, "But you do not want to know."

To his credit, he only seemed puzzled for a few moments. "...Right. Um, how about... maybe something simple, first..." He lapsed into thought and I looked away, into the sky. Perhaps this had been a bad idea. Well, it had; perhaps it was bad that I had ignored my initial reaction and simply gone along with it. I had been agreeing with Sigmund a great deal... it was possible that I needed to distance myself from him for a time.

"That wasn't what I was trying to do, but it looks pretty neat anyway!"

I turned.

There was a massive wave of pink and red moving toward us over the plain. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was liquid interspersed with a great many tiny objects. I found that I did not particularly care what the wave was made of. "Sigmund..."

"Don't worry! It's made of fruit. They're called strawberries; they're really soft. It's fine!"

I pondered running. However, neither of us could hope to outrun it. "The wave is several dozen feet in height."

"...You've got a point there..."

I supposed having the wave crash over my back would be less damaging than taking it in the face, and thus I turned and hunched over. Of course, I am no expert in organic health, and Sigmund seemed to be only mildly worried. I was not sure whether that was good or bad; on one hand, it could be that the wave would cause no damage. On the other, it was entirely possible his mind had not yet grasped the... unreality of the situation he had conjured.

The first quality I noticed of the wave was its temperature. The second was its texture, and the third was its weight. It was comfortably warm and rather smooth, and its weight was merely an afterthought simply because it had no negligible weight. Far from the immense impact I had expected, the wave seemed to settle gently over my frame. This, unfortunately, did not stop me from failing to float to its surface, and of course my first thought was the worry that it would damage my internals. The knowledge that I currently occupied the form of an organic was entirely removed from my mind.

It swept me - us - along for several agonizing seconds as I struggled to find a way to escape it. I could not be certain even of gravity's pull and which way the surface was. The wave slowed around me, enough to be noticeable, and I thought I could detect the surface. A hand grabbed hold of mine. An organic hand, and in my panic I came very close to attacking it.

Sigmund was spared a broken wrist only by the sudden drop in the wave's height. I was deposited on what felt like solid ground and likely would have let out a sigh in relief if it were not for the fact that I was still buried in fruit and the remnants of the liquid.

Struggling out was no easy task, as every movement I made seemed to simply shift everything around me, after which it would settle back into its original position. Mere moments passed before I could detect another force, moving fruit out of the way -

The first thing I saw was the sky, impossibly blue after the wave of fruit. The second was Sigmund, who to my surprise looked rather worried. "Klunk! Are you alright? You went under and you're smaller than me, and..."

There was no hesitation. I laughed.

Sigmund's babbling stopped instantly and he blinked his organic eyes down at me. "What's so funny?"

I reached out of my squishy prison and wiped a hand over his head. "You are covered in pulped fruit." The grin was there before I could stop it, though I would be lying if I said I wanted to. I supposed there was some kind of aphrodisiac in the fruit... it would work as an excuse, at any rate.

He blinked again and stared at my hand for a moment, and the pulp and leaves stuck to it. He seemed to ponder a moment - and then his own hand darted forwards and grasped mine. He then began to lick the remnants of the fruit off my fingers. My expression must have been a rather strange one (frankly, I would be astonished if it were not), because he began to laugh.

I have heard very little 'happy' laughter in my life. None of it has ever been created through my actions or words. Hearing Sigmund laugh... I have never heard such a delighted, carefree sound, and I doubt I will ever hear anything else able to measure up to it. To use an organic phrase, it utterly makes my day.

I was not reluctant to join him. I am not sure how long we laughed for. Long enough. Or perhaps not; I can admit, however reluctantly, that the experience is one that I will always look forward to repeating.

Sigmund continued long after I had stopped. "You shoulda seen the look on your face...!"

An idea came to me. I blamed it on the aphrodisiacs. "Perhaps I can." I pushed all conscious thought from my mind, willing to ignore both of our squishy natures at the moment, and took one of Sigmund's pulp-covered hands in mine. I then proceeded to methodically lick all traces of fruit from his fur.

By the time I was finished, I was fairly certain I could hear a faint purring. Part of me was somewhat disgusted, but the look on my companion's face was enough to prompt me to ignore it. I am no expert in organic expressions, but I believe it was a combination of astonishment and absolute glee.

"Hey, that felt kinda nice! Like an oil bath or something." He made his joyful laugh again. Organic eyes have a way of half-closing when their owner is happy; it was remarkably strange to watch. "We should do this more often."

I was not as opposed to the idea as I had originally thought. Still, becoming an organic, even in my own mind, was not a thought I wanted to entertain. "Perhaps. First, however, I believe I require assistance in getting out..."

"Oh, but... you look so comfy."

I could not quite believe my audios... or ears, as it were. And I was sure his smile had changed in its type. Somewhat... mischievous... "What do you -"

"In fact, I think I kinda want to join you!"

I was reminded uncomfortably of a group of Zoni that had just discovered some great joke to play. "Sigmund -"

Before I could protest further, he dove into my squishy prison, and it was all I could do not to... 'freak out', I believe the term is. The already-cramped space was made even more so, and there was the matter of my own dimmed senses, and of the furred body pressed against mine. It was -

...Comfortable.

I stared up at the blue sky yet again, trying to process what error my mind had created. How could I be comfortable...? In the form of an organic, pressed against another organic, in a small space that would no doubt prove difficult to get out of, and yet. And yet.

"See, what'd I tell ya? Comfy!"

I felt an arm snake around my midsection. I blinked. Surely he had not... but no; a look down at Sigmund's grinning face confirmed it.

"You planned this."

"Wellll... maybe..."

I am loathe to use 'giggled' in any context, but I could think of no better word for the laugh that escaped him. And of course he would be truthful. His mind had been given to him by the Zoni, after all, and by extension his moments of brilliance would manifest in the oddest of ways. An elaborate plot to... 'snuggle' was of course a reasonable way to invest his intelligence.

"But that's not a bad thing, right? I mean, I bet you agree with me..."

He gave me The Expression again, and again I found myself unable to resist. "...If you insist." I replied with a sigh. Arguing would be pointless.

"Good! I knew you would."

I watched, one-part irritated and one-part bemused, as he twisted his way through the fruit to lay flush against me. It was easier to simply give up than struggle. Besides which - this was not an actual organic. It was not hard to see the robot instead. I did not mind this particular organic so much, regardless...

"And, you know what?" Sigmund murmured into my side, "You're even comfier than the strawberries."

I found I did not want to stop the smile that creeped upon me. Perhaps I could get used to this after all.