The sun rose.
It was not the same sun as Mel and Carla had seen the previous day. Sure, it was just as bright and warm and far away from the planet, but the planet itself was not one either of the Okabes had ever seen. A few hours beforehand, after a lengthy debate which had been wiped from their memories, the young woman and her uncle had landed in a warm, soft hill of fabric and fallen asleep almost instantly, exhausted from the events of the previous day.
Carla woke up first. Eyes still squeezed shut, she reached up and around to where her hat usually was, right on top of the dresser. The hat was not there. The dresser was not there either. What was there was a sock.