In the intervening years the word spreads about “the best end of conference party ever”. This time costume orders were put in well in advance. The snowy beach comprising the Plane of Consciousness is lit up by vibrant, vivid and incredibly well-tailored outfits, each of which radiates and accentuates the wearer's personality. They're all original, one-night-in-Headspace only designs.

Honey himself weaves his way through the party, catching up with the people he met and giving special attention to the best dancers. His own outfit is perhaps the most striking of all. A ringleader outfit done out in royal purple and inlaid with golden thread, it blends a circus gaudiness and colour with a more regal and sedate approach. Other than that his avatar looks exactly as he does in Breadspace. A steady diet plan has brought his Breadspace weight down, and his Headspace weight has steadily climbed, finally meeting in a happy middle.

Honey won't come to another conference for a few years, but his eventual reprise will be hotly anticipated.

As usual, Honey people-watches on his way to work. How are they dressed? What are they trying to achieve? Did it work? The Synapse Transit System is a dream case study for an up-and-coming fashion designer.

The Company Company leaving Museford worked out better for Honey than he could have hoped. They moved out, taking their name in Company Company Chic with them, along with most of the long-term employees. The infrastructure was still there, however, and Honey's former boss swooped in to buy the store and rebrand to Fraser's Fashion. From there it only took a little schmoozing for Honey to talk himself into being trialled for a position as designer. Not difficult given his admirable customer satisfaction as buyer's assistant.

So this morning he is taking notes as much as he is taking an idle interest. Note the brightly coloured lining inside that jacket: rather than hiding it, the designer has used the insulation to bold visual effect. See how those slit trousers move in the breeze each time the train doors slide open, calling attention to the boots beneath. Look at how each layer of that dress is a subtly different colour, lighter at the top to draw your eyes up the fabric.

And look at that shirt. He doesn't need to study this one, he knows it intimately already. The shape the sleeves make when they fold. The thin black thread drawing striking lines across it. The unique edges cut into the buttons. He knows it because it's his. A Honey original in the wild.