Who: Polyhymnia and Atlas What: Conversation Where: Shiri and Adam’s house When: Whenever except Tuesday. Warnings: None
Atlas let his new truck/house rumble to a stop in front of Polyhymnia’s house. He eased it out of gear and set the parking break. The ritualistic movements were still alien to him, but he executed them with only the slightest of hesitations. Hours of rote practicing and several stripped transmission gears had etched the procedure in his mind. Pulling the key from the ignition, Atlas stepped out of the truck, slamming the door behind him. He locked the door from the outside. It was a little trick he had developed to keep him from forgetting the tiny keys and locking them in the truck. Atlas shook his head. His life was filling up with little complications.
His vehicle and housing secured, Atlas strode up to the door. He knocked, making sure to restrain himself enough to keep the door on his hinges. It was his experience that women frowned upon their doors being forced in, intentional or not.
She had heard the truck/house rumble outside her house. She had. However, the sound of a truck/house rumbling to a halt outside of her house was the equivalent to nails on a chalkboard for the muse. It send a chill right down her spine and she frowned. Why did cars have to be so loud? Why did traffic have to sound like it was right outside? If people were parking in her driveway again...
Well, she wouldn't do anything about it right now as she turned her amp louder to block it out and continued playing "Hey Mrs Robinson".
"...bless you please Mrs. Robinson, heaven holds a place for those who pray... Hey, hey..." Wait. Was that knocking? Stilling the strings of her electric guitar, she glanced in the general direction of the front door that she couldn't especially see from her living room before calling out, "Hey, is someone there or am I hearing things? Feel free to not respond if I am hearing things..."
Atlas smirked as her voiced came muffled through the door. It was not the response he had expected, but things were often not as he expected around Polyhymnia.
“It is Natal,” Atlas called, his voice booming purposefully. “Your ears do not deceive you. I have returned.” Atlas had been around the north men too long. He had had to fight back several more suggestive responses before settling on something more appropriate. Tact was not something he employed often, but Polyhymnia warranted it.
She’d appreciate that; eloquence and tact were very similar and she was the goddess of the former. Not that she appeared as such at the moment as she put down her guitar, leaving the amp on and set to 7 and then leapt over the thing in one fluid motion. “Ooh, now you make house calls to the front of the house and not just the yard!” she called out as she moved the dozen of so feet from living room to door, pulling up the pale yellow headscarf that had been resting along her shoulders to cover some of her hair as she threw open the door. “Was that awful rumbling you, too?”
“No,” Atlas replied earnestly, his smile widening as he caught sight of Polyhymnia. “That was my new home. A gift from the north men.” Atlas turned and pointed out his Tonke Fieldsleepr 2, as if its rectangular largeness did not make the uniquely designed RV obvious. “I’m sorry if it disturbed you, but I like it.”
Polyhymnia peeked her head out from her house, almost blending in with its yellowiness if not for her clothing paler hue. Her eyes widened. It was so nearly perfectly rectangular! “I suppose it could not help being loud. It is what it is... If my house could move it would be loud.” She turned her eyes to her own house now as if trying to will it to move. But nothing happened, it remained a house.
Atlas could have moved Polyhymnia’s house, but he couldn’t guarantee that the structure would survive it.
“I like that it’s loud,” Atlas said, placing his hands on his hips. “And I like that it gives me the freedom I want.” It was also effective shelter, but he didn’t care so much about that. “Would you like to see the inside?”
Polyhymnia looked back to the truck/house and her pink eyes focused on the truck portion of the equation. It had nothing to do with the house portion, she could see that, but she didn’t trust it. She was certain that it’s headlights and grill were smirking out her, plotting against her in it’s engine brain... but the little house portion had done nothing to deserve her suspicion. It was just along for the ride. “Can I hold the truck keys when I am inside the house?”
Atlas smiled indulgently, mistaking Polyhymnia’s fear for awe.
“Of course,” he said, sliding the truck keys from the ring and handing them to the pale muse. Taking her hand, Atlas lead her to the side door of his little rectangular house. He released her hand to lower the steps from underneath the doorway. He never used the things, but the shorter goddess would need them. Taking her hand again, he unlocked the door and lead her into the first of the camper’s two rooms. The room served as the dining room, kitchen, living area, and bedroom.
“What do you think?” Atlas asked, gesturing expansively with his arm.
Polyhymnia would have been willing to try to leap it up steps let her nearly skip up behind him into the room to look around. She giggled as she looked around and then looked at his gesture. “Aww, if your arms were a little longer you could touch wall to wall.”
Atlas chuckled at her observation. Atlas spread his arms, only to find that she was right.
“They once were,” he replied, “but then I would not have fit in here. Were I still that size all the time, I doubt I would have escaped with just this mobile home. I’m sure Freyra would have stuck me in an ‘apartment’ or some ridiculous house.” The disgust in Atlas’ voice said quite clearly what he thought of those options.
She could hear the disgust in his voice and spinning all the way around to look at the room again that served for almost all the functions the many rooms of a house would serve, she glanced over her shoulder, "Not all houses are ridiculous. Mine is yellow. Like the sunlight..." She spun all the way back to face him, drawing close enough to invade his personal space and be forced to crane her head back to look him in the eyes, "Even though I know the sunlight is not truly yellow but it looks like it."
Atlas looked down into her upturned face.
“A little house that shines like the sun is fine for you, Wisdom,” Atlas allowed, “but I prefer the actual sunlight. The elements are no danger to me. I don’t even need the few conveniences in this house. All this house is to me is a sign of my freedom. That is why I agreed to take it.”
"I like the actual sunlight, too," she blurted out quickly, and then realized he wasn't implying she wasn't. Oops. It made her giggle again and turn to look at the little house which was a little room again, "This house is certainly a sign of freedom. You could go a lot of places in it and still be home.
Walking over to the bed, she eyed the line between the foot of it and the store top, "I bet you could roast marshmallow and hot dogs without even getting up from bed with a good stick."
Atlas nodded, his eyes on Polyhymnia as she turned her eyes to his house. In his mind, he replaced marshmallows and hot dogs with chunks of little dragon meat. Perhaps the conveniences of the mobile home would prove themselves yet.
“You are welcome to stop by and try that out whenever you like,” Atlas offered. “If you can’t find me, I am always only a phone call away. Which reminds me,” Atlas began, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out his new phone, a much more robust model than the one he had when last he visited Polyhymnia. “I have a new phone to go with my new house and vehicle.”
Polyhymnia crouched a little to get a better look at the phone. She had only ever seen phones get smaller or thinner or have more screens... His phone was more robust. It was a bigger phone in a little house... She would keep that bit of amusement to herself as she straightened back, fixing her headscarf back atop her head as she did before handing him her phone. "Number, please."
Atlas’ eyes narrowed in frustration as Polyhymnia slipped her phone into his hand. Her phone was even smaller and flimsier than his last one! With more gentleness than he remembered he possessed, Atlas gingerly handled Polyhymnia’s phone as he entered his new phone number slowly. He let out a slow breath as he entered the last digit. The little plastic phone had survived, and Atlas was keen to keep it that way.
“Here,” he said, hints of tension in his voice. He placed the phone carefully back in the pale muse’s small hand, relieved to be done with it.
"Thank you," she replied as she tucked it back into the pocket of her long skirt and then tilted her head. He had only said one word but there was something about it... and he has stared at her phone in such a way. She stepped even closer to be a hair's width away from him, it made it easier to softly ask,. "Is something wrong?"
Atlas leaned down, bringing his face closer to Polyhymnia’s.
“Not anymore,” he answered softly, before straightening up. He continued, his voice returning to its normal volume, “Tiny plastic phones and I don’t really get along. Yours was in peril every second it was with me, and I’d hate to break something of yours, even without meaning to.”
Polyhymnia giggled a little at the response, "When I first was given the phone, I almost broke it in half trying to figure out how to get it to slide and reveal the keyboard. Then my host family realized I spoke Arabic... Made everything easier." She nodded with the last three words spoken. "Do you have both numbers now or just the new one? Which do I use?"
“Just the new one,” Atlas answered. His previous phone had not made the return trip from Ridgekeep. He remembered dropping it on the ground as soon as it was no longer necessary. “I don’t have the old one anymore.” Atlas paused a moment in thought. “I have a mailing address now, too. Another condition placed on me by the north men’s mother hen.” Not that it was particularly onerous. Atlas had forgotten all about it until giving Polyhymnia his new phone number brought it to his mind.
First she looked down at the floor, then the ceiling and then the walls before back to him. He had said this was his house... so where was the mailing address? “Is it a P.O. Box or is it something more interesting?” She knew which she wanted.
Her words sparked more recognition in Atlas.
“That’s what it is, a P.O. box,” he agreed, nodding. He rattled off his P.O. box address before continuing. “I don’t really get it, but it made Freyra happy enough.”
"The post office probably appreciates. They do not have to go anywhere to deliver your mail. Just slip it in a little slot." She had known that would be his response but she couldn't help imagining the more interesting possible responses. Her favorite was GPS locator on his truck/house and the mailman having to trek hill and dale.
A thought finally crossed her mind that was more urgent than mail deliver methods, "Is your secret safe? I know the oil did not come near us but they say if the hurricanes begin, it could rain oil." Part of her wondered what her father would think of that fact, but she pushed that thought out of her mind. It would only depress her. That could be saved for later. Now urgency.
“I’m... not sure,” Atlas said uneasily. “Freyra promised me that it would be safe. She, like you, said that the oil was not anywhere near it. She said she would send Freyr to check it out, but grew frustrated when I couldn’t give her ‘precise GPS coordinates’, whatever those are.” Atlas shook his head. He knew that Freyra had been saying what she needed to keep Atlas at Ridgekeep until she was satisfied. He doubted she would risk the seed she had given him, but he was never sure about the elfin witch.
“I trust her enough to come see you before I made my way back to my grotto to recover my seed,” Atlas admitted, “but I will be headed there next.”
Polyhymnia blinked, something was strange about what he was explaining. She felt like she was missing a step. It was the same feeling when television shows just cut whole sections of the song out; she knew something was supposed to be there. “What does the Northmen have to do with your secret?”
Atlas frowned. Perhaps he had said too much. He hadn’t wanted to reveal that he would soon have Norse-style golden apples to Polyhymnia. Not with her devoted to a mortal whose death Atlas eagerly awaited. He shrugged mentally. Too late now.
“They gave me the seed that I planted,” he answered bluntly. “It was a gift.”
"That is quite a gift to you, Natal." Her mind was not on Adam or his death at the moment. She attempted to keep such thoughts far from her at most times. Instead, she looked down at thought, considering his words, only to then look up to him again. It was on another matter that had started months ago with her sister - a hint of sadness in his voice, "At least I understand why you joined them."
Atlas barked a laugh, his wry mirth contrasting Polyhymnia’s sadness.
“It’s not like I was welcomed back into our own family with open arms.” His face softened, and he placed his hand on Polyhymnia’s slim arm. “But just because I’m part of a new family doesn’t mean I have forgotten my old one.” Atlas mused that had he said those words to any of his other relatives in Miami, it would have sounded like a threat.
“I have heard that before,” she replied with a soft, but not entirely cheerful giggle. But maybe she was being overly harsh... overly projecting her desire for the choir to be together and happy and her dread of it being broken... She knew she was certainly not speaking about Atlas and his hand on her arm made that realization flick a switch in her mind. No. This was not the time for this. She regained her true smile, “I apologize for that. That was not about you.”
Atlas’ eyebrow rose. It had sounded like it was about him. But Wisdom had sadly mentioned hearing those words before. Were people defecting from Zeus’ family? The thought made Atlas grin, but he tried to disguise it as returning the muse’s smile.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Atlas offered. “I may not be able to help, but I’ll listen. I have some drinks in the ‘fridge’, if you want.” Atlas had learned during his long life that women liked to talk, and he had developed his listening skills over the centuries he was unable to flee unwanted conversation.
"That is nice of you but I know how it will go. I already hear it in my head. I will ramble in a misdirected rant and then half way through it I will realize it is misdirected and then I will feel bad, then I will blame myself and then..." Polyhymnia took a breath. That had been a lot of 'and then's just then. She shrugged with a smile and continued on, "And then I will realize I do not want to be doing that. I think I would rather just cut to the chase and feel better and have a drink. Do you have cups? I could go get one from my house." She pointed out the truck/house, "It is right there and everything if you do not."
Atlas smile grew. He liked Polyhymnia’s plan.
“I have mead, beer, and water,” Atlas offered. “And cups. Sit.” Atlas gestured to the smaller of two bench seats nestled in the back of his house. He knelt down in front of the small, cold box positioned underneath the counter between his sink cooking area, waiting for Polyhymnia’s order. Freyra had called the box a “fridge” or “refrigerator”. She had tried to explain how it worked to Atlas, but Atlas ignored her and chalked it up to her fell magic. He did not care how it worked, just that it did.
Ooh, mead, Polyhymnia didn't especially care for the Norse, mostly for irrational reasons but she did like their honey booze. She easily move the little distance between where she had stood in the middle of the little truck/house to the bench and plopped down where directed. "Mead please. Especially if it is theirs. I remember drinking their mead at my sister wedding." The wedding got a little fuzzy after that.
Atlas opened the cold box and pulled out a small cask of mead. He considered grabbing himself a beer, but decided to drink what Poly was drinking. He had plenty of more casks secreted away in various cupboards and corners of his house. The north men could be quite generous. He stood, reaching over to place the cask on the dining table. He turned to face the closet behind him. He opened it and pulled out two metal steins.
“Here,” he said, placing a stein in front of Polyhymnia as he sat down across from her in the larger of the two seats. Popping open the cask, Atlas poured a healthy draught into both of their steins. He lifted his drink, holding it out to Polyhymnia.
“To family. Those with us, and those not,” he toasted, resisting the use of the north men’s traditional “skoal”.
It was not lost on the muse that it was with the family’s resident traitor that the Titan was making a toast to the family. Part of her soul enjoyed the irony; that part firmly believed Melpomene was inspiring the Fates as they worked on this particular moment of her life. It sounded like her dark humor. And framing it in that way in her mind made her continue to pleasantly smile as she lifted her stein and tapped it to his. She smirked a little, “To family. May they all enjoy prosperity, but may some have more of it.”
Atlas drained his stein, pleased with Polyhymnia’s response. His toast had not been for the Olympians. They did not need or deserve his well wishes. Atlas’ Titanic kin were foremost on his mind. A pang of loss struck him, but it passed quickly. It was an old pain, salved slightly by the new friends and old family he had rediscovered amongst the humans. Family like Polyhymnia.
“Well said, Wisdom,” Atlas complimented, refilling his stein.
Polyhymnia didn't empty her stein to the dregs, it was just impossible for her to do so but she did take a good long drink from it and then placed it down, wiping her lips on her long sleeves. The mead did have an immediate, mostly psychosomatic effect on her though. Any thought of treason or loss disappeared and she tucked her legs beneath her.
She smiled at his compliment and sipped at her stein again, "Are you staying this time, Natal, or do you have a truck house to stay on the move?"
“Both.” Atlas replied, taking a sip of his second stein of mead. “The north men will ship their raw recruits to me here so I can train them to endure. Freyra wanted to give me a house that didn’t move, but I’ve spent enough time in my life sitting in one spot. This house lets me be free.” Atlas gestured once again around the interior of his little house. There was something like fondness in his eyes as he did so.
“So, I am both staying and moving.”
"You truly did join them. Tell me something..." Polyhymnia leaned toward him, her voice softening to be a whisper as if what she was going to say was top secret, "Do they have an awesome pinball machine? I have a theory they do."
Atlas thought for a moment.
“What’s a pinball machine?” He asked quizzically. He shook his head, letting out his breath in an almost-sigh. “I ‘joined’ them because they are my friends. They accepted me, and I accepted them in return. I’m sorry if I have disappointed you.” Atlas squashed the urge to cross his arms petulantly, instead taking a large swig from his stein.
Polyhymnia shook her head as she leaned back and reclaimed her normal sing-song speaking voice. "No. No need to worry about disappointing me. I am glad you have friends." If only for selfish reasons. Friends made him more real in her mind, not something conjured in a dream or in a some sort of haze. She was in control of her actions when relating with a person who was real... If she was relating and speaking to an illusion, it was just disconcerting. "Though I am disappointed you do not know what a pinball machine is. They are fun. Titled tables with glass tops where you hit little silver balls so they do not disappear and cost you a quarter to get back."
Atlas eyed Polyhymnia warily, trying to determine the sincerity of her statement. Finally, he gave in to hope and believed her. He had no reason not to. He relaxed visibly, but kept drinking from his stein.
“Ah, they have some of those,” he said, shrugging. “I remembering seeing some of the others playing at those noisy machines. I never paid them any heed. I was usually too busy punching people and things, anyway.” Not that he hadn’t enjoyed all the punching.
"I like them. They are oddly hypnotic." The lights and the sounds and the constant watch for a flash of silver coming straight toward one... She could play them for hours, usually to the fascination of onlookers but those days were decades behind her. The world... at least this country seemed to have moved on from them.
She hummed merrily as she drank and finished her stein and then placed it down again. A thought then came to her, "Do you remember the song you were composing in the cliffs?"
Atlas froze. His stein was halfway to the table, and an invitation for Polyhymnia to play all the pinball she wanted if she ever visited Ridgekeep died unspoken on his lips.
He did remember that song.
That song was born of Natal Maltose’s confusion and frustration upon emerging from the sea in a world he no longer recognized or understood. With no identity save his name, Natal Maltose struggled to make sense of it all. Hist name would become the framework to build his perception of the universe and rebuild his shattered identity.
In the dark time, a sole light shone, giving the whole experience a silver lining.
“I do,” he said simply, resuming his movement, with the stein instead headed back to his mouth.
Refilling her own stein, she then sipped at it as she reclined in her seat. Her pink eyes darted to and fro as if watching something for a moment as she sipped at it, for that very moment in deep thought before she rested the stein on her lap and her eyes on him. "I must have played that song a dozen times. First to take hold of my memory of it and then to try to understand it..." She giggled, "I never did. The little notes kept their secrets from me, whispering to each other in the melody." It had not helped that she had spent more than a year believing it was a possible dream.
“That’s because the little notes are more than just notes,” Atlas said absently, putting down his stein. His eyes had a faraway look in them. “And that song was more than just a song. It was the sum of what I learned in my time holding the stars. It was the music of the spheres.” Atlas didn’t realize the full implications of what he had said. His understanding of the planets, the stars, and even the universe itself, was instinctual. It was something honed over eons observing things few other beings could even comprehend.
Music. Of. The. Spheres.
Polyhymnia's eyes widened and lit up at the words and she was already on her feet before thought had even entered into her mind. When it did, it was a cascade of thoughts. Where was Uraina when she needed her? She would love this. Memories of the works and words of Pythagoras and Johannes Kepler and even Boethius... She didn't go far though. Not far at all. Instead, she sat right at his feet, "Play it again."
Polyhymnia’s sudden closeness brought Atlas back to himself. He looked down at her expectant face, enjoying the eager glow of her expression.
Then she asked him to play the song again.
“I’m not sure I can,” he admitted uneasily. “What I did before, I was not quite myself or in my right mind.” Atlas turned his face away from Polyhymnia and drained the rest of his mead. He sat and considered her request for a time, absently turning his stein in his hand. His eyes were distant, as if focused on the hidden stars beyond his new house.
“I will try,” Atlas said at last, “If you will help me.”
Her stein was placed down on the floor when she realized it was in her hands. She nodded eagerly, ready to leap up and help. "How? How? How do you want me to help you?"
“I need metal,” Atlas said, pouring himself another, very full stein of mead. “The metal I used before is gone.” Atlas took a long drink from his stein. “I don’t know what type I need, but I’ll know the sounds when I hear them.” Atlas could not describe the music he heard faintly in his mind. It’s subtle complexity defied any attempt. Atlas could only hope to provide a faint echo.
"Metal?" Did she have metal like she remembered on the cliffs? Polyhymnia closed her eyes in momentary frustration, knowing the answer was no. "I do not have any right now." Right now were the key words in that tone but up she was, right on her feet, graceful in her haste. "But, wait here."
She dashed out of the room of the truck/house, leaping beyond the steps and went right into her house. The front door was thankfully not locked or it would have delayed her as she blew through the house like a storm, her yellow head scarf torn from her hair in her speed and wrapped around her shoulders when she grabbed her electric keyboard.
And then she reversed direction, leaping up the steps back into the truck/house and placed the keyboard whereever place she saw first that it could safely rest. "I do not have..." Polyhymnia paused, realizing that maybe she should take a second to breathe and catch her breath and then continued, "I do not have metal right now but this can play a lot of metal made instruments."
Atlas stared at the large plastic thing dubiously.
“What is this thing?” he asked bluntly. He cocked his head and rapped his knuckles on it appraisingly.
"Keyboard..." Polyhymnia trailed off her explanation in search for an outlet. Yes! Found one. Once plugged in, she turned her full attention to Atlas and to explaining, "You play it like a piano but it can sound like other things by pressing the top buttons. Not as good as the real instruments but..." She shrugged a little. She didn't have the resources or the space for all the instruments and it did well during rapid composition instead of trading off.
Pressing one button, she smiled, "Now it sounds like the vibraphone."
Atlas’ eyebrow rose. He didn’t know what a “vibraphone” was, but he had seen pianos on TV. He looked down at the plastic box. It was much smaller than the pianos he had seen in the picture boxes, but the large, white and black keys looked familiar enough. If he hit them, sound should come out. He pressed one at random, holding the key down. A sustained, metallic “plonk” issued from the “keyboard”.
Atlas released the key and the note faded. Atlas considered for a moment. The tone had the correct feel, but not the right sound. Atlas looked to the other keys. With deliberate slowness, Atlas pressed the other keys, moving from one end of the keyboard to the other. When he was done, Atlas leaned back in his seat. He played the tones over in his mind. They were not perfect, but perhaps he could recapture some small portion of his song with them.
At least, he would try.
Sitting up straight, Atlas moved his hands over the keys. Extending his index fingers, Atlas began spasmodically jabbing down at the keys. Instantly, the small camper was filled with a cacophonic din. But underneath all the seeming chaos, a weak harmony struggled to let its perfection be heard.
At the first initial moment of the cacophonic chaos, Polyhymnia flinched, her shoulders jerked up and she stepped back. Then she took a deep breath and caught herself, relaxing her shoulders back in place and returned to his side. But now that the sound was not so sudden she listened intently, drawing close to him again - both the music and his attempt drawing her close to him.
The weak harmony may have struggled but she could just hear it... she could almost touch it... It just needed a little help and then she would be able to hear it fully. Now she truly wished Uraina was around; she could probably just inspire him and there it would be.
"Do not think, Natal," she whispered to him, encouragingly, "You are not composing. It is part of you. You are being. It is harder to be when you think.
Atlas grimaced. Nothing Polyhymnia was telling him was particularly new to him. He was sure he had spent much more time devoid of thought than the little muse. Without stopping his performance, he turned his head to tell her so, but his mouth closed with an audible click at her intimate proximity. Letting his breath out, he tried his best to clear his mind. He focused on the music in his mind to the exclusion of all else.
With this new focus, the sound Atlas produced became much purer, its harmony stronger. However, Atlas’ lips still quirked downward. The imperfect tones of the keyboard were damaging the subtle harmonics he was trying to achieve. Atlas shook his head slightly, dismissing the thought. These were the tools he was given. He would do his best with them until Polyhymnia was satisfied. Hoping to counteract the keyboard’s imperfections, Atlas dove ever deeper into the endless current of the music of the spheres.
And Polyhymnia, for her part, as the harmony grew stronger ands it tone purer, distinct and separate from trial and misstep, closed her eyes to lose herself between the notes and within its sound and tenor. She was not her sister, Uraina, the notes being the voice of the stars, their hidden song except when brought out was not what interested her. Their mysterious rhythm and what they spoke, and how they moved, and who/what they were... unimportant to the youngest muse. Instead, what interested her, what she strove for was the transcendent message and nature beyond it.
She listened not just to the notes played, but the notes unplayed. She listened not just to the tempo and rhythm, but when the notes changed, when the harmony shifted... It wasn’t perfect. That was impossible for her $60 pawn shop keyboard but she could grasps at it for now.
There was something more ancient than the gods of Olympus or of Abraham. Older than the Titans, older than those before them. The universe knew it but held its tongue. Smiling, Polyhymnia boosted herself up on the counter space where the keyboard rested and sat. She had her own efforts now as she wordlessly sang along, a few notes behind the melody like an echo to it...
Atlas smiled. Polyhymnia’s song calmed his mind, bringing him back to the night when they had first met. The identity he had crafted for himself fell away, but instead of anguish, he felt only calm. He was wrapped in the harmony created by his playing and Polyhymnia’s voice. How long they stayed that way he could not say. To him, it was a single, eternal moment.
Summary: Atlas and Polyhymnia meet up once Atlas finally returns to Miami. Atlas shows off his new motor home and new phone to Polyhymnia. They talk until it becomes easier to communicate through music.