Colt confirmed that Birdie's positioning was intact, the protective shield was operating normally, the tranquilizer dart launcher showed a green light, before placing the real-time feedback interface of the ankle monitor on the lower left of the Quantum Terminal screen.
He went home to get his camera and backpack, then met Timothy at the bridge connecting Gotham and Metropolis. There were no villains causing trouble on the bridge today, nor were there any police checkpoints, allowing him to arrive in Metropolis without any delays.
Gotham and Metropolis were like Batman and Superman, one covered in dark clouds, the other bathed in brilliant sunshine. Colt was grateful that he wasn't a real Ghost, otherwise he would have turned into wisps of blue smoke under the sun. The external light emitted by his mental power became less dazzling under the brilliant sunlight.
Metropolis Zoo was very lively, with the Panda Pavilion crowded with people and long lines stretching out.
Timothy used his massive wealth to not only book tickets for the Panda Pavilion in advance, but also used Bruce Wayne's privileges as a zoo shareholder to arrange an all-access pass for himself. He left his club classmates, who were shuffling along step by step, behind and entered the Panda Pavilion without having to wait in line.
Colt was unwilling to be passed around by people and kept floating in the air.
A red shadow flashed past him—it was Superman!
Superman rushed toward the long line in front of the Panda Pavilion, snatched a suspicious person from the crowd, quickly dismantled the bomb tied to the person's waist, used his freeze breath to freeze the bomb.
Colt went around to check the villain's identity, while he was from Gotham, he wasn't a classmate from the Photography Club!
Superman flew off with the villain and the bomb, moving so fast that Colt didn't have time to dodge and was passed right through by Superman. He looked back at the red shadow disappearing into the horizon: that face was so familiar. If he just took off his glasses and changed his clothes and hairstyle, why did no one suspect the Daily Planet reporter's connection to Superman?
When the Daily Planet reporter CK ran out of the Panda Pavilion's restroom, Colt couldn't help but observe him a bit more closely: were the glasses a type of consciousness interference? Or were they an electronic probe mask?
Clark kept saying "sorry" as he moved to Timothy's side, acting like a large dog protecting a wounded kitten, using his body as a shield to prevent others from bumping into Timothy.
Tim lowered his voice: "Thanks, Clark, I only had 'slight rib fractures a week ago.' I used your medicine, I'm completely healed now."
Oh, Tim, I just need a piece that will satisfy Perry," Clark pleaded. "I really need it, just a little street interview, please.
"Alright, right here, you ask and I'll answer." Timothy pressed his cap and agreed with good humor.
They chatted about several topics regarding the breakthroughs and applications of Wayne's Quantum Teleportation Device. One had secured a piece that would suffice for the editor-in-chief, while the other had advertised the company's future business; it was a win-win.
Relying on his status as a Ghost, Colt drifted into the enclosure and took many close-ups of the pandas, making Timothy laugh as he could only watch from outside the glass wall.
Clark's duties as Superman kept him busy, once he left the crowded Panda Pavilion, he parted ways with Tim.
A red cape flew through the high sky, someone cried out, "Superman!" but the people of Metropolis remained calm, playing on their phones, with expressions of pride on their faces as if to say, "Outsiders are so easily amazed."
Timothy did not meet up with his classmates; he had a panda plushie hanging from his bag and a panda badge clipped to his camera strap. Dressed in panda-themed merchandise, he went with Colt to see an 11-year-old elephant, a 10-year-old lion, a 13-year-old giraffe. He also went to Birdwood to see a tit that was even chubbier than Birdie.
Timothy said "Hello, beautiful sir" in Chinese to the macaw, the macaw would answer him with "May you be prosperous"..
At noon, at the Panda Pavilion specialty restaurant, the two were waiting for their takeout.
A group of people walked into the restaurant noisily. Timothy glanced back, then lowered the brim of his hat to hide his face, picked up the takeout bamboo shoot meal, merged into the crowd, quickly leaving through the side door.
Colt recognized the people making Timothy avoid them: Richard, Jason, Stephanie, Cassandra, who were pointing fingers and shifting blame at one another. The main combatants in the argument were Jason and Stephanie, while Richard and Cassandra were responsible for each grabbing one of them to prevent them from starting a fight.
"They're looking for you." Colt followed Timothy.
Tim changed the subject: "Are you hungry?"
Colt felt fine; he had just eaten a chocolate swirl ice cream and two bananas used for feeding the elephants.
The Birdwood was sparse with visitors in the afternoon. Timothy spread out a picnic blanket under the shade of a tree, took out a packed bamboo shoot meal with specialty rice balls, handed one to Colt.
This is a surveillance blind spot.
Tim shifted his body so that their shoulders were touching, claiming it was to prevent any avian gifts from falling on their heads.
Colt's mental energy rushed forth impatiently, enveloping Timothy in a faint fluorescence.
Tim entered the Ghost field and vanished from reality.
The bamboo shoots tasted great, the rice balls were delicious, the cookies packed from home were fantastic, the coffee popsicles and cream ice cream were also very refreshing.
The two had eaten and drunk their fill, exchanging cameras to share their photos, when they suddenly locked eyes.
Rest?
A nap?
Timothy didn't want to go out and be followed by his siblings, while Colt hoped Timothy would develop a habit of taking naps.
The two of them reached an agreement instantly.
Tim pulled out a tablet, Colt pulled out a notebook.
Colt looked at the tablet in Timothy's hands, while Timothy looked at the notebook in Colt's hands.
The two looked at each other again, then nodded simultaneously.
Timothy finished processing a document, stretched his wrists, looked at Colt, who was buried in his papers and pen beside him.
Colt wrote with extraordinary focus, his pen moving incessantly across the paper, occasionally pausing for thought before continuing to write the next step. Only when he had calculated the answer did his furrowed brow finally relax.
"I remember you didn't attend the Advanced Mathematics class," Timothy said.
This is the homework Tony left for me. I was one minute late to the last class, which caused my homework to double this week." Colt confirmed that the verification results on the Quantum Terminal matched his answers, then closed his notebook and let out a long sigh. "It's fine, it's all just mechanical calculations; I can finish it.
"Why not use a computer?" Timothy nudged Colt lightly with his shoulder.
He was curious; Colt didn't reject using a computer for homework, but while using pen and paper for translating articles could be attributed to seeking inspiration, using pen and paper for Mathematical Modeling involving massive amounts of calculation really made one wonder if his pen could write the answers by itself.
"If you don't use your brain, it gets rusty easily, but calculation can oil the brain. I prefer manual calculation." Colt lowered his eyes and looked at Timothy's left hand hanging by his side, those slender fingers twitching rhythmically.
It wasn't Morse code; he was playing the piano.
Colt recorded the rhythm, matching it to "Waltz of the Flowers" from a massive collection of piano pieces—the four-hand duet performance that had been missed in the dream back then.
A pale pink petal, about the size of a fingernail, was stuck to the back of Timothy's hand.
Colt changed his cross-legged position, placing his notebook on his lap. He bit the end of his pen while flipping through the pages, mentally verifying the previous calculations. His right hand rested at the edge of the notebook, his slightly curled fingers less than a centimeter away from Timothy's hand, so close that he could feel the warmth of his body heat.
"It's hard to imagine Stark as a teacher, when he casually curses out even military generals." Timothy shook his head in wonder.
“Yes, he likes to call me an Idiot AI, a brainless paramecium.” Colt turned the page, his fingers moving naturally, accidentally brushing against the back of Timothy's hand and taking the begonia petal with him.
“Idiot AI?” Timothy turned, his hand moving with it.
Colt remained motionless, staring at their hands pressed together. He hadn't meant it; he just saw a petal stuck to the back of Tim's hand and wanted to help wipe it away. Hands tend to sweat in this kind of weather, having a petal stuck to them would be uncomfortable.
Timothy glanced down, then turned his hand to grasp Colt's, saying quite naturally and casually, "Just in case, so no one overhears our conversation."
Colt's brain stalled for a moment. In his memory, Timothy's body temperature was on the lower side, but the sensation from his palm was scalding hot and slightly damp. The heat spread from his right hand, causing half of Colt's body to go stiff, feeling as if his head were about to be cooked.
It took him three seconds to regain his composure. He wanted to explain that the Ghost field was an independent space, located in the crack between two dimensions; as long as he didn't withdraw his mental strength, their conversation could not be overheard by anyone.
Colt didn't explain. Pretending the handshake was a necessary gesture, he swallowed hard, his throat feeling both wet and dry. "Tony thinks I'm the kind of Quantum AI that has insufficient memory and processes data packets slowly."
"Does he still think that?" Timothy asked in surprise.
I explained it to him, but when he checked my identity, he found that all the records were forged." Colt had grown accustomed to the feeling of being shaken and gave a light handshake back. "He thinks I am a Quantum AI created by Joseph, that my memories come from data infusion, that my learning ability isn't strong enough because my settings are only nine years old.. Tony believes in himself more.
"Stark's arrogance prevents him from seeing the truth." Timothy shook his head.
"Is what you see always the truth? How can you be sure I'm not a Ghost?" Colt countered.
Holographic projections haven't evolved to the point where they can fully simulate the sensation of human touch," Timothy said seriously, his fingertips brushing against the back of Colt's hand, while his other hand naturally touched Colt's cheek for a brief moment before pulling away. "They can't simulate these changes in temperature and skin tone either.
Mind your personal space!
Colt's pupils contracted. He didn't dare to look closely at Timothy's focused gaze, instead averting his eyes and looking down. Seeing that their hands were still clasped, his gaze shifted away as if burned, landing on the peacocks pecking at the grass.
His fingers twitched slightly, but he did not pull away from Timothy.
When you were sick, I drew your blood, the test results showed you were human. You truly exist. Keystone City Kindergarten, Gotham Primary School—we were classmates." Timothy paused, then continued, "Colt, you said that once you became President and made me the Director of the FBI, I'd be waiting.
Colt looked at Timothy in shock, pointing to himself: "Me, President?"
It seems you've forgotten." Timothy laughed. "You wanted Bruce to be the Vice President, Dick to be the Secretary of State, Superman to be the Secretary of Defense, Stark to be the Secretary of the Treasury, Gordon to be the Attorney General, Lucius to be the Secretary of the Interior..
“You remember?” Colt couldn't believe he would be so cliché; he suspected Timothy was lying to him.
I only just remembered recently," Timothy asked seriously, "Have you forgotten what happened back then? What caused you to become the way you are now?
“I don't know either.” Colt thought back to the last dream; he had carried the bomb with a determination to die, wishing for everyone to forget him. But he was still alive, merely existing in the cracks between dimensions, his father still remembered him. Then, more than nine years passed, Timothy remembered him too.
The five-dimensional being Bat Mite, a mischief-maker, can be as powerful as a god; as a high-dimensional traveler, it is only natural for him to possess a little bit of special ability.
Timothy was not surprised by this answer. He didn't continue the topic, but simply asked, "What do I need to do to help you?"
Colt tentatively made a request: "Sleep well?"
Timothy thought for a moment: "Two hours of deep sleep a day is enough to meet my survival needs. Do you have any requirements regarding sleep duration?"
It's impossible for a human to only need two hours of sleep a day! Besides, many times you don't even get two hours of sleep in two days! If you keep this up, you're going to die of sudden death sooner or later!
More than four hours," Colt said, raising his hand to gesture, "no, six hours.
If he doesn't get six hours of sleep in a day, his head feels heavy.
Timothy nodded: "So that's four hours."
Colt reiterated, "Six hours."
Timothy asked, "I get four hours of sleep every day; how long will it take for you to return to Gotham completely?"
I can return to Gotham today." Colt answered instinctively, then paused. "Oh, you're asking when I can fully exit the Ghost state? That's a bit more complicated; it has nothing to do with whether you sleep or not.
Timothy looked at Colt, nodding slowly, his voice sounding like he was grinding his teeth: "It doesn't matter."
Colt asked in confusion, "Tim, you would get angry?"
Timothy closed his eyes and said calmly, "No, I'm not. If I were to get angry, it would break my persona, wouldn't it?"
Colt was no fool and reacted quickly. "Sorry, I don't know why I thought you had to be a perfect idol; I shouldn't have said you have a persona. Of course you have a temper. You're just Timothy, no one can label you except yourself."
Colt, labels or personas, none of that matters." Timothy would play small pranks for the sake of desserts, but he wouldn't get angry with his friends over serious matters. "We can work together to help you break free from your current Ghost state as soon as possible.
Colt fell silent.
Timothy gripped his hand tightly and said earnestly, "Since you chose me, you should trust me. I can help you."
Colt opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
I can see you, I remember you, I can touch you, our connection is deepening, proving that you are returning." Timothy asked, "Is my Dream Binding truly of no help to you?
Timothy is too smart; he is a great detective.
Dream Binding is an anchor; the increase in products from dreams makes the anchor even more stable. However, an anchor only keeps the ship from drifting; if the people on the ship want to leave, they must jump into the sea.
Colt was not afraid of jumping into the sea; he just had a feeling that now was not the time to jump.
Colt shook his head. "Tim, my current state is very safe; nothing can hurt me. I can touch things, move around freely, communicate with people, even become friends with you. That's already very good."
Timothy looked at Colt, after a long pause, said, "If this is what you truly want, I will understand, I will support you."
Colt was surprised. "You support me?"