Wendy: Woof woof!
Pickles: Woof! <It's Wendy!>
Pickles: Woof ... Woo ... Woof … <Sorry ... excuse me ... my apologies ...>
The crowd in disorder forms an unbreakable cage around him.
The excited bulldog completely ignores the calling from behind, making her way quickly and nimbly by people's feet.
Her furry little tail shows up on and off from between the legs. Clearly, she is making more progress than her black-and-white peer.
Wendy: Woof woof woof!
Pickles: Woo? <You've already made it through the crowd?>
Pickles: Woo, woof, woof … <Sorry, please wait up, I'm not doing too well here ...>
Pickles: Woof! <Oh!>
The Border Collie stops abruptly, saving himself from bumping into the streetlamp.
???: Come, friends of the new world! Masters of the Utopia! Future of mankind!
He looks up at where the voice come from. On that streetlamp, a man in a sloppy, bright-colored shirt inhales deeply.
???: Phew ...! blows bubbles
Pickles: special thinking noise <This voice ...>
The bright kerchief tied on his forehead is almost blazing under the sun.
???: Excellent, the new formula with amphisbaena egg liquid is far out!
???: This is an era belongs to us! Come! Let me be the witness of your wonderful world!
Pickles: special thinking noise <I remember him. He is ...>
Pickles: special thinking noise <Oh! So the strange reactions of the crowd were caused by these soap bubbles.>
Pickles: ...
Pickles: special thinking noise
That little swirl spreads out in the "cloud."
This is turning into a thunderstorm.
Wendy: Woof, woof woof!
Outside the moving crowd, the bulldog who has lost h her friend barks helplessly.
This is a problem too big for her to solve.
Pickles: special thinking noise
Pickles: special thinking noise <It wasn't a good idea to use my arcane power after all.>
Pickles: special thinking noise <... I wouldn't have foreseen the misfortune to encounter these strange soap bubbles. My paws are uncomfortably sticky, thanks to them.>
Pickles: special thinking noise <The bitter taste of life caused by ignorance—humans call it "regret.">
Pickles: Woof! Woof. <Oh! Easy, watch my feet.>
The Daydreaming Man B: Here is a ... burp, Pogeyan ...
A strange man who has been staring at the soap bubbles for an excessively long time looks down and rubs Pickles roughly.
Pickles: Hmm, woof, woof … <Sir, you have mistaken, I'm not ...>
The Daydreaming Man B: Aha! I found Pogeyan!
Pickles feels a steady push exerted on his ribs, and his view suddenly brightens up.
The man holds the Border Collie high over his head.
Pickles: Woof, woo … <Oh dear ...>
A height that seems hazardous enough for the Border Collie.
Pickles: Woo … <Oh, this is too high … I, I see the sun ...>
Pickles: Woof, woo, woof … <This is very uncomfortable, please, let me down ...>
The man looks deliriously delighted.
The soap bubble, with a glow of rainbow flowing over its surface, lands on his wet, black nose.
"Pop."
Pickles: special thinking noise <Is this ... a bubble? They seem like living creatures ...>
A doziness gradually muddles his mind before he realizes it.
Pickles: special thinking noise <What a beautiful sphere ... almost perfect ... like the one that Euclid has ...>
"Pop."
Pickles: special thinking noise <Oh ... I smell parchment.>
A door, in bright gold, slowly opens before him.
Pickles: special thinking noise <Am I ... in a white robe? Is this ... Greece?>
Before the arch of the Academy of Athens, the wise ones wait in two lines, standing on both sides.
Pickles: special thinking noise <This is the perfect city ... now, should I go crouch in the wine barrel?>
Pickles: special thinking noise <Or looking at the moving shadows on the wall of a cave?>
Pickles: special thinking noise <No. I ought to seek knowledge of the star inside an apple ... or wonder about that meaningful hole on donuts.>
The noise of the crowd is distant and unclear, as if there's a thick film exist between him and the people.
Pickles: special thinking noise <Am I home? Back to Greece?>
Pickles: special thinking noise <What is this place?>
Pickles: special thinking noise <Who am I, and why do I exist?>
???: Whoa, watch out, my friend! Don't trip me in this Utopia!
???: You ... emm? A dog here?
???: Ah! I know this black-and-white hair ...!
Pickles: Woof, woof. <The headwears, and the excessively long hair.>
Pickles: special thinking noise <Oh, religion could be philosophical.>
"Doggie": The puppy agrees.
Diggers: Yeah, I'll bet. You furry little monster who stole the thunder of the New Age Art.
Diggers has his back to the crowd and drops to his knees before Pickles. He gently squeezes his paw.
Diggers: Hmm, but feel these paws ... perhaps they do deserve some public attention ... briefly.
Diggers: Ahem, you showed up at this street party, for which you should be praised ...
Diggers: Ha, but I'm not that stupid. You just got lost with your master, right?
Pickles: Woo, woof? <I don't quite follow this conversation about master. Are we discussing the cognitive self?>
Diggers: Oh, that sounds like a no.
Pickles: Woof.
Pickles: Woof, woof.
"Doggie": The puppy will travel far.
Diggers: Oh.
Diggers: Travel?
The man who has long lead a vagrant life raises his eyebrow.
Diggers: Like what I have been doing, to be a follower of freedom?
Pickles: Woof, woof, woof. <I think you take me wrong. I seek a path to pursue the truth, not to wander around without purposes.>
"Doggie": The puppy wants to chase its dream.
Diggers: ...!
Diggers: Oh, wow! Are you really just a hound?
Pickles: Woof, woof, woof. <Biologically, I'm a shepherd dog, a Border Collie.>
Diggers: My soulmate is a black-and-white hound!
Pickles: Woof ... Woo? <I believe you should deepen your understanding of this world ... do you crave for the truth?>
"Doggie": The puppy wants to seek the source of everything.
Diggers: Oh, so you are a fundamentalist dog in art!
Diggers: But, you are right ... I can at least agree with you on this.
Diggers: As they say, "Paris is the capital of art" ...
Diggers: Even though those patronizing French people always look unpleasant with everything ...
Diggers: We can't deny they are the experts when it comes to romance.
Diggers: But if you ask me, they need a revolution there ...
Diggers: ...
The man tightens his grasp around pickles' paw.
Diggers: Hey ... speaking of which, you've reminded me, little fella ...
Pickles: Hm?
Diggers: We shouldn't just settle for one party!
Diggers: To promote art, we need to go to the real capital of art!
He gets back on his feet indignantly, as if he's about to take on an important mission.
Diggers: Imagine, when our speeches at Place de la Concorde spread across the city ...
Diggers: The new ideas will strike the foreign city like a hurricane!
Pickles: Woof? <A hurricane?>
Diggers: What an excellent idea!
Diggers: You and I are of the same mind, we should form an unbreakable alliance!
Diggers: Come, comrade.
Diggers: Action is the precondition of changes in art!
Pickles: Woo? <Hm?>
The "cloud" parts and moves pass them.
Diggers: Now ... let's see ...
The man stands with his hands on his hips, checking on the mess and feeling exalted.
Diggers: Now, where to find the key to open the gate of the capital of art?
