Not Two Illusions

Gaius gets into the car.

What did you see? asks Terence.

Two bikes, says Gaius. Just where we left them.

Or two illusions, says Terence.

What have you been telling him? asks Gaius.

Nothing, says Sweezus. He's becoming a kind of philosopher.

That's good to hear, says Gaius. Although I would prefer him to become a proper scientist.

I'm already a proper scientist, says Terence.

Then I assume you have brought the thermometer, says Gaius.

Terence goes through his gecko shorts' pockets.

Looks like he hasn't.

Kant must have it, says Gaius. Never mind, we can still count the dead marine creatures.

Yeah, says Sweezus. 

And obtain samples, says Gaius.

Let's do it, says Sweezus.

They get out of the car.

The wind howls.

The rain blows sideways.

Foam quivers.

Wait, says Terence.

He runs across to the kiosk, and disappears behind it.

Bet he's checking that the bikes are real, says Sweezus.

How likely is it that two bikes would be an illusion? says Gaius. 

Yeah, not two bikes, says Sweezus. One bike maybe. Or at least it might turn out to be haunted.

That's totally different, says Gaius.

Schopenhauer's bike for example, says Sweezus. That was haunted.

Haunted is not the same as illusory, says Gaius. And that bike was not haunted. It only affected the suggestible.

Not you? says Sweezus.

Not me, says Gaius.

Terence runs back having checked that the two bikes are real.

They're real! says Terence.

How do you know? asks Sweezus.

That's enough philosophy, warns Gaius.

I TOUCHED them, says Terence.

That will suffice, says Gaius. Let's go down to the beach.

And they fell over! says Terence. Ha ha! No they didn't.

Good one, says Sweezus.

On that positive note, they head down to the beach.