A/N- The chapter's a bit longer this time. Sorry, the chapter lengths are probably going to vary a lot, just so you know. I'm not Joseph Fink, most likely.

In a way it did get easier, in a way it didn't. The next day wasn't much better, neither was the next. However, they did fall into a schedule and figure out how to maneuver over the next couple weeks. They started accepting that the sun set at different times every day and sometimes made banging, crashing noises when it did so. They accepted that the sky was a different color almost every day, even though Fredrick never really found anything different in the air quality. Those were problems that could be delt with later. Though confused, they were all pretty flexible.

Not long afterwards, Carlos was studying the dust off the porch light that had been touched by one of Josie's angel friends. There had been a small amount of DNA left on the base where the angel's fingers had actually touched it, and he wanted to examine it as closely as possible. The others were out, most probably still at the House That Doesn't Really Exist. He had managed to isolate a good deal of what looked like black powder from the dust under the microscope, when a shriek ripped through the air. It sounded like a young girl, about five or six. Tripping over a cord, Carlos stumbled outside. No one was out, other than a hooded figure just visible around the corner and the white guy who had introduced himself as the "Apache Tracker" crawling down the sidewalk several blocks away. Big Rico's stood a few yards away, and Carlos noticed that the red graffiti was thicker than usual. "WHO IS THE REAL JOSEPH FINK?" stood out for a moment, before fading into the brickwork. Slightly frazzled, Carlos stuck his hands in his lab coat and started walking down the pavement. He told himself that a walk would calm him down, and besides, it would be good break from bending over a microscope all day, but he knew it really wouldn't. He went left, heading towards a ramshackle fruit stand that he had driven past once. There had been a older man inside of it, but there was no produce to be seen at all. The man waved, and Carlos stepped up. "I'm John Peters, you know, the farmer. The imaginary corn is coming in very early this year, and I already have a good crop. Care to try it?"

Thinking for a moment the man was joking, Carlos smiled and shook his head. He noticed that the man had four appendages which looked a lot like cat tails coming out of his back, stretching to all different lengths and doing things around the stand. Righting overturned crates, dusting the corners of the room, and washing a stack of plastic plates, all while the man stood in front of the counter. Carlos felt a strange temptation to touch them, see if they had any bones or joints inside. "So, you sell... imaginary corn?" he asked, and John Peters, you know, the farmer, nodded. "Yeah. The best in town. Of course, it isn't really real since we live in a desert, but it is still a popular side dish. One dollar an ear."

Figuring that the man was taking advantage of him since he was new, Carlos was about to brush him off as a beggar, when a young man strolled up to the fruit stand and tossed a dollar in change on the counter and picked up one of the empty plates off the counter. John Peters nodded at him. "Hello, Larry. You're early today."

Larry ran a taloned hand through his green hair. "There's a PTA meeting tomorrow, and I need to make something to bring this afternoon." He glanced in Carlos' direction. "Hiya, interloper. You're the scientist, aren't you?"
Carlos nodded, not sure what to say. Taking his plate, he sat at one of the tables by the stand and looked Carlos up and down. "Are you going to try the corn?"

Without thinking about it, he blurted, "Um, sure," and handed the farmer the money. John took it and one of his tentacles handed Carlos a plate. The farmer watched him, interested, as he took the plate and stared at it.

"Try it," he said encouragingly.

"Umm... There's nothing there."

"Yes there is. Take a bite."

Glancing at Larry Leroy, Carlos copied his hand motions. He was a scientist, after all. It was his job to observe locals and their customs. He was expecting nothing to happen, but his mouth was suddenly filled with the sweet taste and texture of hot, buttery corn on the cob. Nearly spitting it put, he swallowed and picked up the plate and examined it. There was nothing on it. Even so, as he turned it over, he could still just barely smell the steam rising from the... imaginary corn? He handed the plate with a nod back to John Peters, and continued walking down the road until he was out of sight of the fruit stand and called his team leader.

"Umm, Travis?"

"What, Carlos?"

"You know some psychology, right?"

"Yes. Hurry up, I'm busy." Carlos heard giggling in the background, then a thud and an "ow".

"Stop acting like children!" Travis called behind the phone, then turned back. "What did you want?"

"I just wanted to know, are... gustatory hallucinations possible?"

"Gustatory? As in taste? In theory, they are. Why?"

"Um, long story. Also, I'm going to the Ralph's to get more light bulbs, do we need anything else?"

"I don't think so. Just don't get yourself killed or start any riots. Oi- Neal, what are you-"

The call was abruptly cut short, and Carlos stared at the phone several seconds before sticking it back in his pocket and heading towards the Ralph's. He hadn't heard any explosions in the direction of the housing development, so he assumed that nothing major had happened.

Probably.

As it was the middle of a weekday, the Ralph's was mostly empty. A few people stood outside and threw trash into the fire that was constantly burning outside, and one or two people were pushing around carts overflowing of lettuce and sprouts. As Carlos turned to go in, he heard someone call behind him, and turned to see Cecil walking towards him. He groaned internally. The radio broadcaster grinned and shook his hand, his tattoos swirling and spinning around his arms.

"Hello, Cecil," he said, relieved to see the radio broadcaster wasn't holding his microphone. "It's good to see you... out and about."

"Oh yes, it's good to see you too, Carlos," he said, grinning, his gaze raking over Carlos' hairline in almost an affectionate way that made Carlos uncomfortable.

"It's hot today. It always is, but especially now. So very, very hot."

That sparked the scientist's interest. "You think it's hot? You mean that you've lived here your entire life and haven't yet acclimated to the mean temperature of this region?"

Cecil tilted his head to one side. "What do you mean?"

Carlos sighed internally. He had to explain things a lot. Being a scientist, he had a larger than average vocabulary.

"Well, you've lived here your entire life, and it probably doesn't get much colder than about twenty one degrees Celsius, even in the winter. So this shouldn't seem to bad for you. I mean, you've never seen snow, most certainly, so-"

"Snow?" asked Cecil, "You mean snow is real? Even though places like this exist on this immeasurably tiny world spinning through an endless Void?"

Carlos frowned, surprised and mildly irritated that they obviously didn't teach about different climates in the schools. He would have to make sure Fredrick never found out.

"Of course snow exists. There's always snow somewhere in the world at any given time, even in the middle of the summer. I grew up in the Rocky Mountains, and sometimes it snowed pretty late in the season there."

Cecil had been listening carefully, but at soon as Carlos mentioned mountains, his expression changed. His friendly smile froze and became more guarded. Raising his eyebrows and glancing around, he laughed tensely. "You should be careful, joking about mountains. The Secret Police might not like that since mountains aren't real, and all that."

Carlos raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean mountains aren't real, that's ridic-"

"So," Cecil cut over him a little more loudly, obviously wanting to change the subject. "You're a scientist, and I wanted to ask you a question. Do you know what cats eat?"

Carlos glanced in the Ralph's. "They eat cat food, of course, and fresh-"

"Cat food?" Cecil laughed again, but this one sounded more natural. "You're funny. Do they always feed cats delicacies where you come from?"

Carlos blinked. "Cat food is a... delicacy?"

Cecil chuckled. "I mean, if that's what you think. He's still pretty young; his spine ridges haven't come in all the way."

"Spine ridges?"

"Of course. Haven't you ever seen a cat?"

Carlos watched him carefully to see if he could catch him joking. "No, not a cat like that, anyway."

"I thought all cats were like that. Hmm. Also, do you know of anyway to make a food or water bowl hover?"

" Yeah, I mean, unless it's really large cat, I think that would be unnecessary. Even so, you could put two strong fans on the sides on the horizontal line above and below where you would want it to hover and turn them both on. The trajectory force between both of them would eliminate the opposite force so that, if correctly aligned and the bowl was in a more or less streamline shape, it would remain more or less in the same position. I'm not sure how that would work with a bowl as the cat might tip it out of the direct speed of the fans, but as long as it was kept relatively stable, balanced, and the speed of either fan was just right, it would stay there until the speed was diminished and-"

Cecil stared blankly at him, and he trailed off. "Or you could pile books until it was as high as you wanted." He finished.

Cecil blinked several times and nodded. "Okay, I'll think I'll do that. I hope I can find enough government approved books in the station to stack four feet high."

Carlos felt concern churn in his gut. "So, exactly how big is this cat?"

"Oh, he's normal sized, but he's floating in a fixed position by the sink four feet up in the air."

That had not been what he was expecting.

Even so, he felt a surge of excitement. "Do you think that I can come see him sometime? Study him?"

Cecil beamed. "Of course! Yes, yes. Come by-" he blushed, and his tattoos swirled over his cheeks again. "-any time."

Instinctively straightening his lab coat, he nodded towards Cecil again and started heading towards the store. "I'll come by in an hour or two, if that's okay," he said, turning back towards him. Cecil nodded, smiling to himself, and continued walking, while Carlos went into the Ralph's, more confused by the conversation than anything.

How could he not believe in mountains?