The Wabbit found himself standing on a seafront with Turbina the Jet Car. "Why are we here?" said the Wabbit. "That is an existential question to which I have no answer," said Turbina. A silence fell. Suddenly, the Wabbit pricked up his ears because he could hear the assertive strains of rebetico music, drifting from a nearby cafe. The Wabbit hopped up and down and waved his paws. "Greek Blues," exclaimed the Wabbit. "We're in Greece!" "That was your destination decreed by Unut, Wabbit Goddess," said Turbina. "You finally met someone that outranked you," smiled the Wabbit. "Just a bit, not much in it," said Turbina. There was another silence. "I am instructed to ensure that you relax," said Turbina doubtfully. "How will you do it?" asked the Wabbit. "I will watch you and if I catch you not relaxing, I will hoot my horn," said Turbina. The Wabbit hadn't felt like laughing in a while, but now he did. So he hopped down the seafront for a long way and he looked all around and then he hopped back again. "You can get a good salad sandwich here," he said, to no-one in particular. "You'll need it. We're going to Mount Olympus," said Turbina. "Mount Olympus!" said the Wabbit. "It's got more Gods than you can shake a stick at!" The Wabbit thought for a moment. "Drive or fly?" he asked. "Take a look at the traffic," said Turbina. "Fly," said the Wabbit.
