Day 29: O Beautiful for Spacious Skies (Part 2 of 2)
I finished it! This picks up from where Part 1 left off.
Yusuf chose that moment to arrive for work. He was immediately informed of the party plans and told that the entire team was invited. The chemist happily accepted, but Eames declined.
"Arthur is going to the party, but you aren't?" said Yusuf. "That's strange."
"You're not even an American!" retorted Eames. "I'll have no part of your holiday."
"Well, suit yourself," said Cobb. The American trio returned to their decorating.
Eames went to work, reviewing his script for the first dream level. Ironically enough, his part in the plan required him to forge an American accent.
"All right, I'm turning off this bloody noise now," he announced to the room, sitting down in one of the gaudily star-spangled lawnchairs with distaste. "I don't need to be woken up by your singing while I'm rehearsing."
"That's fine," said Arthur.
Eames shut off the Bruce Springsteen music and started preparing an IV line.
------
Eames' first impression upon awakening was the smell of burning charcoal. Startled, he looked around and spotted the Yankee Trio gathered around a small backyard barbecue grill. Someone had managed to open a skylight in the warehouse roof so the smoke could escape. Something that smelled suspiciously like hamburgers was grilling, and... oh, God. All three of them were, once again, singing loudly.
"..'Cause there ain't no doubt I love thiiiiis laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand! GOD BLESS THE YOUUUUUU... ESSSSSS... AAAAAAAAYYYYYYY!"
"Bloody hell," Eames said, coming over to them. "You're all wankers."
The trio turned to him as one. "We didn't wake you up, did we?" asked Cobb.
"No, just unfortunate timing on my part. I suppose this is lunch, then?"
"It is," said Ariadne. "We made enough for everyone. Will you at least eat with us?"
"Oh, all right. As long as you don't sing at the table."
"It's a deal."
There was more American rock music for Eames to endure during lunch, although it was softer now, and no one sang along. The thing that made no sense to Eames were that his associates felt that this was the best kind of music to play while celebrating their national holiday, when so many of the songs were about how hard life in the U.S. was.
------
At the end of the day, when Eames was about to leave the others to their party, Cobb stopped him and took him aside.
"Listen," Cobb said. "I understand if you don't want to celebrate with us, but there's something I want you to know. I haven't even been in the States in almost two years. I can't go home right now, because there are people looking for me there. I'm not doing all this just to be an ugly American - I'm homesick, and celebrating with Arthur and Ariadne helps a little."
Oh. "I know what you mean," said Eames. "I've been living in Mombasa for some time, and some days I'd like nothing more than to go home. I'm terribly sorry for spoiling your fun."
Cobb nodded. "Good night, Eames."
"Good night, Cobb."
Eames continued toward the exit, but then a thought occurred to him. He returned to the lawnchair setup, where the group was about to start the party.
"I'm sorry for the way I acted today," he said to Arthur, Ariadne, and Yusuf. "If I promise to behave, may I come and watch your fireworks show?"
Ariadne handed him an IV line. "Be my guest."
------
The sky here seems impossibly wide. The imaginary world they're standing on must be larger than the real one for the horizons to be so far away.
They've all found themselves on a gently sloping, grassy hillside. There are towers of large stereo speakers at the bottom, aimed up the hill. There are many other people here, sitting on blankets or in lawnchairs, talking to each other. They're all projections, of course. The five real people there have no problem figuring out which of the blankets is for them: it's the only empty one, and it has a maze pattern woven into it.
They all take seats on the blanket. The world seems to hold its breath in anticipation. Then, a single streak of white light crosses the sky. There is a collective gasp. Then, the main show begins. The fireworks are multicolored, synchronized to music played over the speakers (thankfully, it's now traditional patriotic songs rather than rock songs), and seem to take up half the sky. It conforms to the usual laws of physics that govern fireworks shows (mostly), and yet it's more beautiful than a fireworks show in reality could ever be.
Eames knows from Ariadne's notebook that "America the Beautiful" is the last song on the show soundtrack. When it begins, he quietly gets up, sneaks away from his enthralled associates, and moves as close as he dares to the speakers. From the part of his mind that stores all his forging skills, he summons his trusty grenade launcher and loads it with freshly-dreamed-up grenades. He aims it into the sky where the fireworks are going off, all the while keeping a leather-jacketed arm over his head to fend off shrapnel.
Just as the song is reaching its conclusion, he fires - one, two, three, four, five. The grenades soar into the sky and explode into points of light, forming reasonable approximations of a top, bishop, die, poker chip, and test tube. Meanwhile, Ariadne's fireworks reach their grand finale and fade away.
There is thunderous applause from the hillside. Eames dismisses the dream-weapon, hastily forges an old stock disguise, and hurries back up the hill to rejoin his associates. When he does, he drops the disguise and grins broadly at them.
"Eames!" exclaims Ariadne. "Was that you?"
"That was me," says Eames.
"Nice touch. I liked it, but how did you do it? I'm supposed to be the dreamer here."
"That would be telling."
"I think they're starting to catch on to us," says Arthur. "We'd better move, try to blend in."
He and Ariadne pick up the blanket, and the group starts walking, but a song has just started playing, and it's not coming from the towers of speakers. They know they'll be safely awake soon, and continue blending in with the crowd, enjoying their last few minutes under the beautiful, broad night sky.
"Happy Fourth of July," Eames says to the group.
"Happy Fourth of July, Eames," says Ariadne.
Yusuf chose that moment to arrive for work. He was immediately informed of the party plans and told that the entire team was invited. The chemist happily accepted, but Eames declined.
"Arthur is going to the party, but you aren't?" said Yusuf. "That's strange."
"You're not even an American!" retorted Eames. "I'll have no part of your holiday."
"Well, suit yourself," said Cobb. The American trio returned to their decorating.
Eames went to work, reviewing his script for the first dream level. Ironically enough, his part in the plan required him to forge an American accent.
"All right, I'm turning off this bloody noise now," he announced to the room, sitting down in one of the gaudily star-spangled lawnchairs with distaste. "I don't need to be woken up by your singing while I'm rehearsing."
"That's fine," said Arthur.
Eames shut off the Bruce Springsteen music and started preparing an IV line.
------
Eames' first impression upon awakening was the smell of burning charcoal. Startled, he looked around and spotted the Yankee Trio gathered around a small backyard barbecue grill. Someone had managed to open a skylight in the warehouse roof so the smoke could escape. Something that smelled suspiciously like hamburgers was grilling, and... oh, God. All three of them were, once again, singing loudly.
"..'Cause there ain't no doubt I love thiiiiis laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand! GOD BLESS THE YOUUUUUU... ESSSSSS... AAAAAAAAYYYYYYY!"
"Bloody hell," Eames said, coming over to them. "You're all wankers."
The trio turned to him as one. "We didn't wake you up, did we?" asked Cobb.
"No, just unfortunate timing on my part. I suppose this is lunch, then?"
"It is," said Ariadne. "We made enough for everyone. Will you at least eat with us?"
"Oh, all right. As long as you don't sing at the table."
"It's a deal."
There was more American rock music for Eames to endure during lunch, although it was softer now, and no one sang along. The thing that made no sense to Eames were that his associates felt that this was the best kind of music to play while celebrating their national holiday, when so many of the songs were about how hard life in the U.S. was.
------
At the end of the day, when Eames was about to leave the others to their party, Cobb stopped him and took him aside.
"Listen," Cobb said. "I understand if you don't want to celebrate with us, but there's something I want you to know. I haven't even been in the States in almost two years. I can't go home right now, because there are people looking for me there. I'm not doing all this just to be an ugly American - I'm homesick, and celebrating with Arthur and Ariadne helps a little."
Oh. "I know what you mean," said Eames. "I've been living in Mombasa for some time, and some days I'd like nothing more than to go home. I'm terribly sorry for spoiling your fun."
Cobb nodded. "Good night, Eames."
"Good night, Cobb."
Eames continued toward the exit, but then a thought occurred to him. He returned to the lawnchair setup, where the group was about to start the party.
"I'm sorry for the way I acted today," he said to Arthur, Ariadne, and Yusuf. "If I promise to behave, may I come and watch your fireworks show?"
Ariadne handed him an IV line. "Be my guest."
------
The sky here seems impossibly wide. The imaginary world they're standing on must be larger than the real one for the horizons to be so far away.
They've all found themselves on a gently sloping, grassy hillside. There are towers of large stereo speakers at the bottom, aimed up the hill. There are many other people here, sitting on blankets or in lawnchairs, talking to each other. They're all projections, of course. The five real people there have no problem figuring out which of the blankets is for them: it's the only empty one, and it has a maze pattern woven into it.
They all take seats on the blanket. The world seems to hold its breath in anticipation. Then, a single streak of white light crosses the sky. There is a collective gasp. Then, the main show begins. The fireworks are multicolored, synchronized to music played over the speakers (thankfully, it's now traditional patriotic songs rather than rock songs), and seem to take up half the sky. It conforms to the usual laws of physics that govern fireworks shows (mostly), and yet it's more beautiful than a fireworks show in reality could ever be.
Eames knows from Ariadne's notebook that "America the Beautiful" is the last song on the show soundtrack. When it begins, he quietly gets up, sneaks away from his enthralled associates, and moves as close as he dares to the speakers. From the part of his mind that stores all his forging skills, he summons his trusty grenade launcher and loads it with freshly-dreamed-up grenades. He aims it into the sky where the fireworks are going off, all the while keeping a leather-jacketed arm over his head to fend off shrapnel.
Just as the song is reaching its conclusion, he fires - one, two, three, four, five. The grenades soar into the sky and explode into points of light, forming reasonable approximations of a top, bishop, die, poker chip, and test tube. Meanwhile, Ariadne's fireworks reach their grand finale and fade away.
There is thunderous applause from the hillside. Eames dismisses the dream-weapon, hastily forges an old stock disguise, and hurries back up the hill to rejoin his associates. When he does, he drops the disguise and grins broadly at them.
"Eames!" exclaims Ariadne. "Was that you?"
"That was me," says Eames.
"Nice touch. I liked it, but how did you do it? I'm supposed to be the dreamer here."
"That would be telling."
"I think they're starting to catch on to us," says Arthur. "We'd better move, try to blend in."
He and Ariadne pick up the blanket, and the group starts walking, but a song has just started playing, and it's not coming from the towers of speakers. They know they'll be safely awake soon, and continue blending in with the crowd, enjoying their last few minutes under the beautiful, broad night sky.
"Happy Fourth of July," Eames says to the group.
"Happy Fourth of July, Eames," says Ariadne.