We have almost reached the pinnacle by now. Behind us and ahead of us are coloured gondolas dangling from thin joints like keychains. They curve in perspective, smaller and smaller in the distance, bending out of sight. Of course, we're in similarly swaying and jingling in one, chained along the circumference of the circle. I wonder how we might appear to someone on the outside. Two peas in a clear pod, hanging by a thread. We're completely exposed. But I can only imagine; as long as we remain within this encasing, we would never understand how the rest of the world observes us.

At this height, the entire cityscape sprawls out before us - Tokyo at our fingertips. No longer do we see individual buildings like the Landmark Tower, or cars and roads, but we see the contrast between light and dark. We see the sudden void of black space washing against the edge of the ocean port, ablaze, like spiritual warfare between heaven and hell. Tiny explosions of children's glitter and coloured pointillism that compose a mass. It stretches beyond what our eyes could see, becoming orange mist in the horizon.

"Reminds me of Mao II. The mass communal wedding of six thousand couples."

"Six thousand five hundred. You were reading it a month ago."

"Yes, thirteen thousand people in a stadium."

"Like a massive orgy," she says.

"What?" I laugh. An image of Ahn Mi Hyun in a business suit comes to mind. "I hardly think dressing in formal attire is fitting for that."

"Who knows? There are some performance art pieces that are entirely shocking. There is a lot of nudity in performance art. It happens when human beings try to make a statement."

No doubt, I know a few names as well. "Shimoda Seiji, Kusama Yayoi, Ono Yoko, to name a few. Adam and Eve were created to be naked after all. Now it is a taboo."

"So is sex. For many years it has been standard, and an everyday common occurrence, like buying groceries. People did it, for whatever reasons, for pleasure, for fun, for love, for needs, because it's routine. But the System removes all emotion and basic human instincts as well, whether they're aware or not, so abstinence is slowly Etiquette. Even now, the Japanese adhere to sexual Etiquette, like showering and cleaning beforehand; women still don't have certain freedoms, expected to behave certain ways, they fake orgasms; and the sex industry is commonplace. Every salaryman makes visits after work and it becomes a simple business transaction. The severance between the body and the spirit or heart, if it can be called that, is widening. Maybe in another ten years, it would be largely different. Maybe there will no longer be natural urges to reproduce. Somewhere, Etiquette will be implemented."

"Would you rather something open and promiscuous like the Brave New World?"

"No, no. Either or, it's triviality." She blushes. I can tell because our faces are lit with neon yellow glow, and her cheeks are becoming a shade darker. I hadn't thought she could be embarrassed.

"Either way, it emphasizes on the removal of emotional value and individual subjectivity. The isolation of the body, without the psyche. People exist in service to the whole," I say.

The ferris wheel seems to groan in effort but we continue moving. As we approach the summit, I feel a strange sensation through my body. A lightheadedness as if my spirit is leaving through the top of my head - maybe from the height or anticipation. Or it might have been entirely something else.

"If I tell you to, if it means breaking Etiquette and making a statement, would you walk around nude?" Her lips curve up in tease.

"Even if you were holding a camera, I wouldn't, no." It's my turn to be flustered.

"Why not?"

"I don't have an attractive figure to show off."

"You only need an attractive mind."

"Is my mind attractive?"

She doesn't reply for a while. We stare out at the horizon.

"Perhaps," she says.

I'm unaware of how we became so close, but suddenly, the world has disappeared, and I have no recollection of location or time. I can feel her body pressing against mine through our jackets. I can feel her shallow breath against my nose. Had she moved closer? Or had I? Did we inch closer little by little, looking hesitantly at one another like middle school students or had it been quick and impulsive? All I can see is the depth of her eyes, full of emotion, watering and on fire, a mixture of textures like looking close up at an oil painting. And then I've plunged into an ocean. The ocean is vast and all encompassing, but it's not still. There are great waves and currents, complex and intricate, pulling me to and fro. The deeper I dive, the less I can see and the less I can move. The pressure from above and below is incredible and my limbs grow numb. Both hot and cold is present, like an ever-contradictory collision of arguments in a debate, where no solution exists. There is no up or down, for I've lost all sense of direction. I can't see anything but inside of her.

There is some kind of innate primitive desire that drives us together. Some sorcery had unleashed strands of allure, binding us together. If it's for someone's entertainment or laboratory optimism, I'm not sure. But they have given us what might be novel and different. Change, a stirring, a new concept. It isn't something we have experienced before. The desire for a little more than just sight or hearing. Smell. Taste. Touch. Usually, trivialities of no significance. But, tonight it takes on a whole different meaning.

Though it's different, I am longing for more. I don't feel anything other than a physical churning within me. I wish to feel more. I can see the strained emotions in her eyes. Difficult, confused and impaired, it's still there. But I have none. I envy her. There must be something else. But as long as I reach out for it, it evades me. I recognize something in the distance, ahead of me, something attainable, if only just a splinter of it, or even if it will consume me - but it pulls away as I near. There remains a void within me, a hidden desperation and leaden guilt. I should be feeling more.

Only my heartbeat quickens and my muscles clench in anxiety. I peel my gaze from her eyes, as her lips are much too close. Glistening, wet, brushed over with rose tint. They look soft. I wonder how they taste. I can smell her warm breath, still a fresh mint and a trace of cheesecake ice cream. Do mine smell like cheesecake?

She closes her eyes. Mine are open. I tilt my head. Our noses brush. She trembles like a small animal. She is so warm and hot and damp. She breathes out. I breathe in. She moves. Her lips graze mine -

But we stop. There is a sudden jolt. A loud sound. I hear her yelp. And everything grinds to a halt. We are thrown apart, our world shaking and whirling. The cage is rattling, like spirits are shaking the frame and knocking on the doors and windows. Calling, calling us back to reality. They have been watching, laying in wait for the right moment.

All the lights have shut down. Darkness swallows us whole. I can no longer see her but I reach out with a hand and luckily find her arm not too far from me. I pull her close. The entire gondola is swinging. We're shifting in our seats. We hear the howl of the wind, above the pounding of our hearts. My heart leaps up and down, with the motion of the car, bracing for what seems like inevitable free fall. I wonder how fast I would be traveling before I hit the ground.

"Are you alright?"

"What happened?" her voice is shaking. For the first time, her composure and the perfect flow to her words have crumpled. It almost doesn't sound like her anymore.

I look down and only see lights at the base of the ferris wheel, like bioluminescent plankton gathering at our feet. So small, we might have just been looking at a picture.

We're at the top. Suspended and frozen, with nothing around us. Right in the center, at the apex of the circle. If one were to take a giant measuring stick and check, they would probably find an exact precision to where we had stopped.

All around us, the city lies cold and flat. I had expected it to swell abruptly before my eyes in euphoria but it's quiet on all fronts. Artificial light provide foggy halos. A city dark, a city that never sleeps, and yet, not awake either.

Cosmo Clock 21 is the only one without its former radiance. There might have been an earthquake, a blackout, a technical malfunction.

"We sincerely apologize for the inconvenience. We have lost power to the system. Please be patient and remain calm, Cosmo Clock 21 will recommence as soon as possible," the man at the gates says from below. 17:31. I hold her hand. Our hands are cold.

"This can't be good," she says.

"It might be romantic, to be stranded here for a while."

"We can continue what we were doing before."

"Who's idea was it?" I say.

"I'm just joking."

"How long does 'as soon as possible' mean?"

"It bothers me that the Collective has been so quiet. Like I've said before, I don't have the best timing. When I need it, it evades me like catching a fish with bare hands. When it's unnecessary, it'll wake me in the middle of the night."

"It's okay. We'll figure things out," I assure her.

We wait. Without the glaring colours of the wheel, the city becomes much more pronounced. Our eyes adjust and dilate accordingly. Nearer objects are detailed and crisp now as if the resolution has been sharpened.

"Breathtaking," she says.

But the clear resolution brings into view something else. Almost like someone had taken a magnifying glass and left it on a particular spot. It's rather far and out there, sitting across from us beyond a wide expanse of water, but on first impression I find something peculiar about its image. I thought I was looking at rippling black blanket, similar to a flag, stretching across half of Yamashita Park. It's so far, I can't make out the details. But the longer I strain to decipher what I'm looking at, the stranger it becomes.

At the front of the park is a great light source, shining like the sun. I stare it for a long time, unsure of what it is. It seems to blink at us in cryptic Morse code. But eventually, it changes colours and turns pink. When it does so, its form is unmistakably clear: it's an outdoor stage, enormous in all dimensions - horizontally and vertically - so that it stands well above the trees and buildings nearby. On the stage, there is a colossal screen, and projected images dance across with confident zeal and such charisma, it's hard to admit that they are only projections. From what I can see, the image fronts a woman's figure, semi-realistic, so that she seems to have a three-dimensional quality. But she stands at least several stories tall, wearing black and a shock of pink hair.

"Do you see that?" I point.

She looks but we don't dare to move. She leans over top of me to get a better view. For a moment, I hold my breath.

"It's a concert." And then I understand. A concert. Not just any concert, but the concert, the demonstration concert, System-sanctioned. The rippling black blanket is no flag. They are people. The masses dressed in black like Ahn Mi Hyun had been. I can see it now. They're clustered together, so that there's no distinction between each, and they blend together to form one organic body, aggregating like an anthill. We had never expected it to be out in the open, perfectly visible to all.

"The Cause," she says, half in disbelief, half in awe.

"An outdoor concert in this weather?"

"That's hardly the issue," she points and when I look again, the screen on the stage had shifted and changed, and the dancing vocaloid girl had moved to the side. On the screen is something different. It's a close up of two faces. Human faces. A real photograph. From the distance, they appear to be a blur, but at the same time, they look terribly familiar.

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