David hears 'the blues' playing somewhere beyond his perceptual horizon. He has a pretty good idea who is playing them, as well.
- Look, David, it's moving.
And in a beat David moves his attention from Rio, descending the arboretum, to the display to which she has stopped and pointed to.
So stops his heart that David joyously surrenders his capacity to talk or even think. Some minor glitch in the creatrix has sent a minerva of dark ripples emananting from the locii of stars that perform the delicate rosonance of Casseopoeia through the liquid light display and through, they sunddenly and immediately realize, each other.
Their eyes meet. And where their eyes meet a blue orb begins to pulse. Unaware of the vortex climaxing around them, Rio drops a neat bundle of letters. David knows she has retrieved them from the archives, and in the brief interval before they fall into a deep and dreamless sleep, he has a chance to wonder how he knows that...