Sergeant: This block asks for help!
Sergeant: Darn it! Why are these loafers so ...
Several police vehicles wait at the wharf, forming a cordon.
The revelry has lastest for a whole day, yet the crowd seem as energetic and in high spirit as they were in the beginning.
Sergeant: Randy, you go over there! Don't let the paraders disturb the tourists!
By the corner of the street, a furtive-look man waits in the shade with a Border Collie in his arms.
Diggers: The fire of art is forever burning, you ignorant followers of a dead era.
Diggers: And the fire takes different forms ... look, an improvisation in three minutes! The intense version of my classic work Dreamy Reflective Bubble！
Diggers: Seems like mistaking sandwiches for the regular ingredients might not be a bad thing.
Pickles: Woof. <I hear Heraclitus' voice in your words. >
Pickles: Woo? <But did you overlook the part where he demonstrated logic while you read?>
Pickles: Woof, woof. <In my opinion, most of your actions lack reflections.>
"Doggie": The puppy considers you as unwise.
Diggers: I beg your pardon?! Comrade, my feelings are hurt.
Diggers: This is not where you would find an artist's wisdom! Our creations rely on moments of inspiration that cannot be replicated!
Pickles: ...
Diggers: Hm? What's the staring for?
Police Officer: Keep orders here! They're coming!
Diggers: Oh, yes, they're on their way!
Diggers: Remember, proceed as planned!
Pickles: Hm? Woof … <Hm? You have never told me about any plans ...>
"Doggie": The puppy feels confused.
Diggers: Exactly ... !
The man gallantly charges out of the shades like an arrow released from a long-drawn bow.
Diggers: Freedom needs no plan ...!
Pickles: ...
Pickles: Woof … <I have a bad feeling about ...>
Young Passer-by: Hey look! Those Reflective Bubbles, here they come again!
A first it was just a familiar, almost unnoticeable tiny burst.
"Pop."
Sergeant: Hey you! Get down here!
Diggers: Sorry! But the flag of art will not be lowered!
Then some shoutings come from the man in strange clothing who is tightly holding on to the streetlamp.
Young Man Staying off the Ground: Oh, dear …! I knew it all the time that the Mount Olympus is not by the Aegean Sea. It is here! In the bubble! Right beneath my feet.
The street has become the ocean of bubbles.
Pickles: special thinking noise
Pickles: special thinking noise <I get a little itch to my nose ... Why ...>
Diggers: Come, mate! Join us!
Diggers: Phew ...
Police Officer: Oh ... ohhh ... mum's oat meal ...
Sergeant: Wake up, Randy! You bastard, don't think you can get away!
Young Passer-by: Woo-hoo! Look what's in the bubble! Corpse flowers grow on the tank in forest!
Diggers: Comrade! Over here!
The road is heavily blocked by people, but they quickly find a simple solution to it—a fantastic shoe print appears on top of the sergeant's car.
Sergeant: What ...
Diggers: Come on, jump!
The bubbles float and flutter about, dancing around the dog's nose; some of them slowly drift down to his front paws, then onto his belly.
Pickles: Woof, woo … <Sorry, I'm feeling funny in my stomach ...>
He had a similar feeling before—when he was exhausted in the hopeless pursuit of knowledge and fell to the floor.
Pickles: Woof … Wuuu … <O, Okay … I think I can ...>
The Border Collie jumps up at his full stretch.
He elegantly hops into the air and stays there for a brief moment. In that lapse of a few seconds, he sees in the corner of his eyes a figure of a man.
Pickles: Woof? <Who is that?>
"Da." *Paws land on the ground*
In the service area of the wharf, the figure of a man draws every bit of his attention.
Charlton: I was wondering if you can give me some time?
Two cruises are anchored in the wharf. The ark to Greece is right under their noses.
Pickles: Woof? <Is he the friend that I haven't made?>
Pickles: Wuu … Woof? Om … <Haven't … made? D, Doesn't sound right ...>
Yet on the other side of the chaotic crowd, a muffled but familiar voice comes into his ears.
Charlton: I saw him in the harbour quite close to here. I've also asked the police for help ...
Charlton: But they said they were out of people today so they can't help us ...
Pickles: Woof? Hm … <What is he talking about? I can't hear him clearly ...>
He tries to shake off the dizziness.
Charlton: The worst situation is that we can’t even join the event ...
Pickles: Woof, woof ... Woo ...? <My, this vertigo ... and you are ...?>
Pickles: ... Woof? <... Charlton?>
The bubbles suddenly burst and turned into a watery mist. It happens within seconds, as if someone has magically made them disappear at a snap.
As the doziness withdraws, Pickles feels himself shuddered.
Pickles: Wuu … Woof! Woo! <Oh … Oh! That's—Charlton!>
His vision and hearing has become incredibly clear.
Wendy: Woof, woof woof!
He looks at the wharf in chaos and disorder.
Pickles: Woof? <Why am I here?>
Pickles: Woof … special thinking noise <I must be staring at those bubbles for too long … and it's not a good idea to get myself in trouble while I was sleepwalking …>
Sergeant: Stop that guy! He is going aboard!
Tourist A: Oh my! The car hit the street lamp!
Sergeant: What? Crap! Who put Randy behind the wheel?! I just said he can take a rest in the car!
Pickles: Woof.
Pickles: Hm … <This is ...>
Pickles: Woof?! <6 o'clock?!>
Pickles: Woof, woo. <Not good, the cruise is leaving ... The time for Charlton and I to communicate has been largely reduced.>
Pickles: Woof, Om. <Had I known better, I would have told him sooner what I really think.>
Pickles: Om, wuu, woo … <I need to find him. Yes, before the cruise sets sail ...>
The happy crowd grabs the police for hugs and raises them over shoulders; the luggage bags of the travelers are also thrown into the air.
The police car which bumped onto the streetlamp gives off wisps of thick smoke.
Pickles: Woof ... Woof! <Charlton ... Hey!>
Pickles: Ommm, wuuoof … <We … We need to talk ...>
And amongst the disarray, the dog moves quickly between people's legs.
Pickles: special thinking noise <The party is not over yet ...>
Pickles: special thinking noise <The size of human's entertainment is beyond imagination.>
Pickles: special thinking noise <But what happened today has made me realized that I haven't close the intelligence gap between myself and a perfectly rational dog.>
He climbs over three piles of luggage bags and jumps over an advocate of freedom who is fully involved in a kiss with the earth.
Pickles: Woof ...! <Charlton ...!>
Pickles: Woof! <Oh!>
He stops before it's too late.
A police flies over him, inches away to his nose, in a perfect projectile.
Pickles: Woof, woof. <Sir, this was way too dangerous.>
Pickles: Woof. <Human should embrace the doctrine of Mr. APPLe's Flight Safetyism.>
Pickles: special thinking noise <But it's good enough, I'm so close to get at Charlton's sock ...>
He opens his mouth, trying to stop Charlton by pulling his socks to the other direction as he always does.
In the next moment, he feels a familiar push under his ribs.
Diggers: Keep yourself busy, you stuffy old gentlemen!
Either his head or the entire world goes into spinning.
Pickles: Woo … <Oh ...>
The man doesn't waste a second. He snatches up the Collie and flees towards the cruise.
Pickles: Woof.
The cotton socks is quickly withdrew from him.
Diggers: How come there are two ships?
Diggers: Nevermind, this is not what we need to worry about.
He ignores the marks on the sides of the two ships and directly heads to one of them.
Diggers: Freedom—!
He carries his ally on the shoulder like carrying a big soft furry sack.
People are shouting, screaming, and running around. Nobody tries to stop them from setting foot on the gangway.
Diggers: Whoa, comrade, calm down, your wagging tail keeps slapping my face.
Pickles: Woof, woof. <Let me go, mister.>
Pickles: Woof! <Charlton!>
In the service area, the man who is in the middle of a difficult conversation with the staff suddenly feels something. He jerks up his head and looks around.
Pickles: Woof! <I'm here!>
Diggers: The great New Art revolutionary has boarded the ship towards the holy land!
Sergeant: Stop that guy!!!
Diggers: And goes into exile with his comrade!
Pickles: Woof! ... Woof? <Please put me down! ... What ally?>
Diggers: Run, let's go!
A long history of being a fugitive helps one to increase his physical capacity significantly.
Diggers dismisses the panicky passengers on the deck and thrusts into the cruise.
*thud*
A poor waiter walks by with a plate of food in his hand. But before he sees anything, a figure carrying something on his shoulder dashes by, which makes him jump and nearly tosses the food off the ship.
Staff on the Cruise: Whoa!
Staff on the Cruise: ... What just went by?
Pickles: special thinking noise
His white claws tightly fix on the denim cloth on the back of the running man.
They are moving at a speed not too fast for a dog, unless the dog is just recovered from dizziness.
A corner follows another. Hallways in different lighting. The panicky faces of the crew.
Pickles: special thinking noise
At the end of the corridor, a door is tightly shut.
Diggers: No entry? Right, this is the place!
Diggers bursts into the room, keeping at his full speed. Inside the poorly-lighted room, there is a forest of distribution boxes.
The dog is feeling dizzy again from the bumpy run. He lifts his head, finding a thick layer of pipes attached to the ceiling—so thick that the room has become even more cramped.
Pickles: Woo. <I think you shouldn't be in here.>
"Doggie": The puppy is dissatisfied.
Diggers: Hm?
The man turns and stares at the dog on his shoulder, finding his comment hard to accept.
Diggers: That was my fastest run ever! You could have said something nice, little fella!
Pickles: Woof.
Pickles: Hm, woof? ... Woof?! <No, why are you staring at me? ... Aren't you supposed to look ahead while running?!>
Pickles: Woo ...! <Dangerous ...!>
"Doggie": The puppy gives its warning.
Diggers: Warning? To me?
Diggers: Comrade, you shouldn't ...
"Pang!"
A pipe sticking out in the air puts an end to this short-lived escape.
Pickles can't help closing his eyes as they fall.
Pickles: Hm, woo. <My, sounds like a nasty trip.>
He crawls out from under the fainted man and gives his head a gentle poke.
Pickles: Woof … <The pipe is still shaking from his trip ...>
Pickles: Woof, woof. <... but I see no wounds on him. I hope he will be awake soon.>
Pickles: Woof. <Though I don't recall we have ever formed an alliance ...>
Pickles: Woo, woof. <... this is going to be the end of it. I'm sorry.>
He looks back at where they came from.
Pickles: special thinking noise <Now ... let's hope that the door to the deck is still open.>
