New York. On an utterly ordinary morning, the streets downtown were still packed with traffic, while the suburban towns closer to the outskirts remained tranquil and peaceful. Whatever major events took place in this universe had nothing to do with the humans still grinding away on Earth.
The Alarm Clock rang with a "Ding-ding-ding." One Hand pressed down on it, knocking the little metal clock onto the floor as it slid away. The person in bed sighed and woke up.
After a full nine hours of sleep, Schiller felt none of the ease and pleasure that should have followed a good night's rest. His face was full of exhaustion.
Letting the residents of his own mind out had been quite simple. After all, the one expending the most effort had been Charles, who had to punch holes through every dream. But gathering all the residents back in was rather difficult.
Every character in every dream was Schiller, and every Schiller shared one trait: they loved chaos and never thought a spectacle could get too big.
The chance to travel through different Single Universes was rare for them. Many had no desire to board the return bus on time, so the other Schillers had to track them down one by one.
After finding them, they had to send them back to their respective rooms and shut the doors and windows before they could run off again. Superego and Ego had worked through the entire night before they finally got every Schiller back where he belonged.
Even though Marvel Schiller had only been driving the bus—using the Underworld Ship to ferry all the personality traits back—he had still been exhausted. When he sensed the state of this universe through the other personalities' memories, he was equally surprised.
Schiller had never intended for