One night, while Pluto sleeps with his eyes open, somebody walks past Cerberus into the underworld: a little prince to see a king.

Sisyphus doesn’t hear the tiny record-scratch voice, but when he trudges back to the bottom, there’s a bumpy green-and-yellow ball there instead of his rock. He tries to roll it up the hill. Instead, he rolls up the hill.

Sisyphus rolls up souls and pomegranate trees. He rolls up Charon and, soon after, the Acheron itself. He rolls and laughs, free and wild, while under him the katamari trembles with the heartbeat of a star.