Tikoo and Pampa and the Workshop

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High above the clouds, where stars are made by hand, there is a factory of sleep. Its walls are woven from moonbeams, and its floors hum with soft silver light. You are there now, little one, inside the warm round body of Tikoo the sleep-bot.

Tikoo rolled on quiet wheels through the Star-Weaving Hall. The air smelled of warm milk and lavender. Everywhere, tiny workers shaped dreams from golden thread. But tonight, the thread kept tangling. Tikoo stopped beside a loom that had gone still. TIKOO: "Why is the thread stuck?" The loom did not answer. Tikoo touched the golden strand. It trembled like a nervous firefly.

Then Tikoo noticed the light above the loom. It flickered when Tikoo breathed in. It glowed steady when Tikoo breathed out slow. Tikoo tried again.

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