#zero time dilemma

I find ZTD hilarious because Delta tries so hard to scapegoat a snail for the disaster HE caused. HE organized a death game and released the plague on humanity, but he’s doing way too much to pin it on a random innocent bug. He could’ve just not done any of it. Mira could’ve simply decided to abstain from murdering a jogger. But no, the snail caused all this.

Eric is one of my favorite characters in the Zero Escape series for how deeply vulnerable he is, and I know he’s a pretty divisive character, so I wanted to write a little bit about how he ticks and why I find him sympathetic. This is a meta post about how I read him and his actions based on the backstory the game gives us. Full writing under the cut, but first have some art!!

(Warning in this post for discussions of child abuse and suicide.)

To start, I don’t think Eric is a violent or malicious person at heart, but the trauma he experienced in childhood led him to deeply internalize a lot of feelings that impact his behavior, and the Decision Game exacerbates everything he struggles with tenfold. From a moral viewpoint, he does a lot of things wrong (so I can understand why he’s unpopular with fans), but from a psychological viewpoint, he does things that are /very/ consistent with what his treatment in life has led him to believe.

His entire family, who were previously loving towards him, died under unusual and violent circumstances when he was very young. It’s not clear if he knew specifically that his mother was murdered, but she seems to have been the person who was closest to him. (Which could have been cool had she lived, because boys looking up to and taking after their moms can be cool, yknow?) On the surface, it’s probably not a great thing to tell your child to smile through anything, but it’s something Eric’s mom taught him as a simplified message for children, and Eric internalized it as a child would. When his mom died, he clung to that message like a lifeline, because it was one of the last things he had from her, and following it was a way of preserving her. Remember, he was like, 10 at most.

Eric’s father became a physically abusive alcoholic. (And people typically don’t just… get that way from one event; I feel like even if Eric’s mother had lived, there would have been an eventual divorce, but that’s an aside.) Eric had to learn to withhold all of his feelings and pretend that everything was alright or risk violence, which is something that never left him, even after he was out of that situation. And then, worst of all, Eric’s dad killed his brother in front of him and made Eric hide the body, which manifested a lot of sharp, deep feelings of trauma in Eric. He feels immense guilt for not being able to stop it, but also tries to bottle that up by telling himself that it wasn’t his fault (and it isn’t- seriously, he was a child conditioned to fear and obey his father). This dual aspect of taking on guilt and then denying it is also something that becomes a major struggle for him. (Additionally, asphyxiation becomes a major trigger that sends him into panic attacks.) He already lost the only two people who treated him well, and then his father died from sickness a little later. Clearly, Eric had every reason to hate his dad and probably does quite a bit, but I think he was still upset, and it left him with all of his family gone at a young age.

It’s also said that Eric was bullied at school, and implied that he didn’t have any close friends, so he was left to shoulder an immense amount of trauma on his own. I also think he’s just prone to anxiety and depression, which he could have gotten more adequate help for had people been there for him. He again copes by bottling everything up, leaving his trauma unprocessed.

As an adult, Eric tries to be friendly and polite at default, but a lot of things very quickly make him feel defensive. He finds it easy to assume the worst in people, that they’re making fun of him or would hurt him, because he’s used to people treating him that way. And that, coupled with his difficulty in opening up, makes him come off as abrasive and insecure, making it harder for people to like him. He doesn’t know how to make friends, so he’s deeply lonely.

Then, enter Mira. Mira finally takes an interest in him when no one else has, and they bypass the “hard” parts of relationships that kept Eric from connecting to others. Eric doesn’t realize that Mira has other designs on him partially because he’s so relieved at being seemingly liked that he wants to see the best in their relationship, and partially because I don’t think he can easily tell that Mira is kind of bizarre because he doesn’t know what average behavior looks like. Mira becomes Eric’s spot of hope against his loneliness and depression, and he clings to her hard because he feels like she’s the only good thing in his life.

He also comes to rely on Mira to decide things for him, because he doesn’t trust his own decisions very much, and having someone else decide means that he won’t have to feel more guilt than he already does. All of this leads up to what happens during the Decision Game. Eric’s action’s over the course of ZTD are partially caused by the immense stress of being forced to take part in a killing game, and partially caused by all of his personal fears coming back up.

But before I get into the nitty-gritty of ZTD, let me say that I think Eric can be pretty cute, and also pretty funny, when there’s less danger, and I think more of that side would shine through outside of the Decision Game. Some cute Eric things:
-Asks Mira if she grew up on farm when she takes a scalpel to a pig.
-”Is this called Part A… because Mira is adorable?” and a bunch of other cheesy lines during the study puzzle. I mean I really can’t argue with trying to compliment your girlfriend.
-He knows what moe is. Eric watches anime…

Eric and Mira in ZTD

Eric and Mira together are complicated, because they’re pretty mutually dysfunctional, and different people playing the game are going to feel differently about them. I personally enjoy how they play off one another from a thematic standpoint, because they’re emotional opposites– Mira feeling very little, and Eric feeling a lot– who have arrived at the same state of not knowing how to address feelings. Through the Decision Game, they incidentally force each other to confront the parts of themselves they hide, and I think that’s interesting.

One really significant thing that Eric does in ZTD is take an arrow for Mira, twice, in that three-way standoff. In one version he literally jumps in front of her, and in the other he gets (implied non-fatally) shot first, but then tells Mira it’s alright to kill him if it means she can escape and that he forgives her for it. I think, in part, he just has a kneejerk desire to protect someone he loves, which a lot of people do. But I also think there’s something sadder in it; that he has such low self-esteem that he sees dying in this case as something he can offer Mira, and he’d rather go out doing something he sees as useful than otherwise.

Eric and Sean in ZTD

Eric has a hard time trusting people in any case, and Sean being the only one there who wasn’t there initially makes Eric even more unsure, but I think that, even more than that, Sean reminds Eric of his little brother, because he’s about the same age as Chris was when he died. And in their calmest moments, when Sean manages to reach through Eric’s panic, Eric empathizes with Sean. But I think Sean’s case is so reminiscent of Eric’s trauma that it just as much results in Eric pushing Sean away, because he doesn’t want to mentally compare him to Chris, because if he did and something bad happened, he would have to shoulder guilt all over again. He’s trying to mentally protect himself by telling himself that Sean is suspicious. One of Eric’s biggest flaws is looking for scapegoats because he’s afraid of taking on responsibility.

But Sean listens to Eric and makes it clear that he wants to understand him, which Eric isn’t used to, and that plays a part in getting Eric to admit that he has trauma, especially when Eric just starts spilling everything to his teammates at the bar.

Eric and everyone else in ZTD

When Mira bites the dust, it pretty much makes sense, after everything he’s been through, that Eric snaps in the particular way that he does. He (unhealthily) put all of his hopes for a happier life onto her, and even more than that, her death is one in a line of deaths of people who meant a lot to him. In his eyes, the universe continually takes and takes from him, without giving him any resolution, so he totally gives up on hope for himself and becomes adamant about getting his own justice. It’s a really “wounded animal bites back” situation, and it just unfortunately happens in the middle of a situation wherein other people are concerned about saving the human race (unbeknownst to Eric). I think Eric can’t really care about any of the sci-fi stuff happening around him after Mira dies, because he’s really despairing, and encountering a lot of triggers of past trauma. And, from the way he commits suicide in some of the timelines, I’m not even sure he knows if, in his panic, he’s able to envision any of the future that Sigma and Diana and the others are warning about.

Eric more or less hinders the other players more than helps them succeed in getting out, but I think the personal stories like Eric’s in ZTD are just as interesting as getting to an ending point. ZTD uses alternate realities, the repetition of events the characters can’t escape from together, as a parallel to how characters can’t let go of things in their pasts, and I think Eric psychologically contributes to that theme.

Post-Game

Ultimately, I like Eric because I like how ZTD uses sci-fi elements to discuss visceral reactions to trauma, and I think the ending leaves a lot of room for Eric to grow as a person. Sean really empathizes with what Eric’s been through, and even if a lot of the other game participants are probably wary of him, it’s a connection he didn’t have before. Admitting he has trauma and gaining a network are good first steps to processing in a more healthy way.

I don’t think anyone in the game should’ve gotten married, especially not so quickly, but I do believe Eric and Mira, together with Sean, could restructure their relationship to be something that benefits them all by stepping away slightly and being honest with each other. Even if Mira can’t understand Eric’s feelings, she can accept his warts pretty easily, and Sean has an interest in helping them both. Because they all experienced something they couldn’t talk about with anyone else, I think they’d have to come to level ground with each other to have an outlet for talking about it. (On another side note, I think Sean winds up living with Eric because, as a day-old robot without a home, he relates to Eric’s loneliness and trouble with feelings, and wants to develop as a person alongside Q-Team.) Post-game life for Eric is probably worse at first than it was before, because he’d have to confront his own capacity for the things he did in a state of panic and the truth of everything that’s happened to him, but I personally like to think Eric gets therapy with Sean’s backing and slowly comes to a more personally peaceful place in his relationships.

Okay, my last note is that Uchikoshi said in an interview that Eric’s hobby is cosplay, and I think that’s really cute and adds another human dimension to him. He’s got that Luke Skywalker hairstyle. I like that Eric likes a lot of things that are more traditionally feminine, especially cute stuff– anime, ice cream parlours… Mira’s cuteness lol– and apparently sewing. I just want him to achieve his maximum cuteness potential through healthiness!!!

made this while procrastinating on going to sleep

Sorry we’re a little late with this announcement. We’ve been a bit busy this year, but we just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who participated and extend an extra thank you to our wonderful pinch hitters! You guys are amazing and we really appreciate the extra effort!

However, I’m sad to say that this is the last year we (Mod D and Mod J) will be modding this event. The last 7 years have been awesome, but there’s a lot of work that goes into pulling off this event every year, and it’s time for us to step down.

As for the future of Zecret Santa, don’t worry! We already have a wonderful new mod lined up to take over next year–we’re handing over all the logins so the  tumblr and email will be the same if you need to get in contact.

We are looking for another mod (or two) to co-mod, so if you’re interested please reach out either on Tumblr or via email.

Thank you again, be kind to each other and we hope 2022 treats you well!

All the best!

Mod J & Mod D

To:@miiversian

From:@karin848

Happy holidays! I hope you enjoy this alternate universe where everyone’s alive and well (physically, not mentally) after ZTD! Akane and Junpei stumble upon a little boy without a family and decide to take him in as their own. Here they are celebrating the holidays together!

To: @miraicrystal

From: @caramellum

Hi hi! I tried to include snippets from as many of your prompts as I possibly could. I hope you enjoy your gift, and that you have a lovely holiday!

AO3

Aoi Kurashiki was no stranger to nightmares. It was, he thought, a fair casualty in his rather grisly line of work; something nowhere near the correct magnitude for an equal karmic exchange, and yet just irksome enough to be a real thorn in his side.

The content of such dreams would perhaps be of no surprise to anyone that knew him. There were gleaming knives drawn so readily, so swiftly, he hardly registered the predetermined bite of the blade as it came down so cruelly between his shoulders.

Sometimes, he instead saw the chapel room bathed in a pool of stained glass light; eerily silent, except for the steady beat of muffled fists against a coffin lid—a staccato that slowly faded as the clock struck six, like a wax candle flame sputtering as it neared the end of its wick.

And then, on occasion, she was there. The figure in black robes, veiled so mysteriously behind a mask just as her intentions behind honeyed words. The cloud of smoke surrounding her dark silhouette twisted and curled before dissolving in the crisp November air, the light breeze from the apartment window fanning her hair like a halo as her loose hood dipped behind her back.

But it wasn’t the figure herself that made the vision a nightmare—oh, no, certainly not. The sight of his sister living, breathing, and corporeal before his eyes was enough to quell even the harshest of anxieties twisting Aoi’s gut.

No, was not her bulky gas mask that sent chills down his spine, but rather how she looked when she finally took it off.

“Aoi,” she would whisper. “He looks so small.”

Aoi would very much beg to differ. Junpei Tenmyouji was many things, but small wasn’t particularly one of them. The man seemed the very textbook definition of average—at least, on the surface. “Pretty sure the Soporil didn’t shrink him, ‘Kane.”

She wouldn’t reply immediately. She very rarely did; at least, not when the gears were turning in that brilliant head of hers. At her feet, the brunette man who held her heart would lay still, the steady rise and fall of his chest the only indication that he was alive at all. “That’s not what I mean. He just…” The breath would always catch in her throat. Her eyes would shine dangerously, though the tears never fell. She never let them fall. Not since the day she ceased to become a child, having seen herself live and die a billion times over, in a billion different ways.

Perhaps Aoi had not witnessed those infinite demises, but even the once was enough.

“Yeah,” he would mutter. He would scoop the sleeping man gently from the floor, reminded suddenly of another, much smaller brunette; one lying feverish and alone on the chapel floor, her consciousness incinerated just as her form in another time. “I know what you mean.”

That particular dream was so vivid, so real, that he thought perhaps he might be SHIFTing. It wouldn’t be out of the question, Akane once mused. She herself would occasionally slip between dimensions if she wasn’t careful. Who was to say the same couldn’t happen when one was sleeping; when they were at their most vulnerable; when their thoughts ran wild, untamed by the inherent reason of consciousness?

It was for this reason that the dream, despite the inevitable pang of melancholy, was perhaps one of the more stable constants in Aoi’s life. He knew it like the back of his hand. He knew the creak of the window frame as they made their escape under cover of night. He knew the way she squeezed his hand even before he set Junpei in the back of the van; how he squeezed it back, and she had to struggle to pry it free, giggling softly as he intentionally tightened his grip. He knew the gentle hum of crickets as they drove the empty Nevada highway; knew how the moon and the stars shone brighter through the windows that night than any city lights. 

And most of all, he knew the look in Akane’s eyes when all the pieces had fallen into place—all the best cards in her own hand, with a royal flush hidden firmly up her sleeve. Players 1, 2, 4, 5, 7, 8, and 9 slumbered peacefully as the Zero duo stood in the vast, soon-to-be-flooded hall of Building Q. They said nothing and everything all at once. Even so, spurred perhaps by formality and finality, she spoke.

“Are you ready?” she would say. Despite the inflection, it wasn’t a question. The telepathic race of thoughts connecting their minds left little to the imagination. She knew he was ready, just as she knew she had been born for this day.

“Nah.” Aoi would feign a yawn, cracking his neck from side to side. “Was thinkin’ I might catch some Zs instead. Think Hazuki would mind if I took the bottom bunk?”

Akane would almost smile, her eyes darting to the line of doors covering the hall. “Yes. I think she just might.”

But this wasn’t how the dream went. Not tonight.

“Aoi Kurashiki.”

The man in question groaned, stirred abruptly from a deep slumber. Could one be woken from a dream, by another dream? He dared to crack open an eye. Even in his slumber, he could use every tactical advantage that he could get.

There was the figure, bathed in moonlight, dressed in black. Even in the dark, the ominous visage of the gas mask could not be mistaken. Ah, so it was this dream again.

And yet… was Akane’s voice always that deep? Even under the layers of morphing software embedded in the mask, there was a confident, distinctive lilt to her voice that Aoi would recognize anywhere. In its place, there was now an undertone of bass; of gruffness; of… well, not his sister.

In order to make that connection, however, one would require at bare minimum two functioning brain cells. At present, Aoi was working with half of one, at best.

“Aoi Kurashiki,” the figure declared once again. “Please wake up.”

Aoi moaned, shoving a pillow over his head. It was far too early for these sorts of thoughts. “‘S okay, ‘Kane. Just Soporil. He’ll… be… ngh…”

The familiar embrace of drowsiness clouded his mind. He had just crept back into the realm of unconsciousness when a pair of muscular arms wrapped around his torso, plucking him abruptly from the mound of blankets like a ripe apple from a high branch.

“GAH!” Aoi cried. The winter air pricked at his skin like tiny, blizzard-like needles. The curtains of his bedroom whipped back and forth under the barrage of weather, shoved harshly to the side to expose the open window. “What the fuck Akane! It’s… It’s like…” His eyes flicked to the alarm clock, its red LED display piercing through the darkness. “It’s fuckin’ four in the morning!”

“Actually, it’s 4:08, to be precise.” The figure kicked open the bedroom door, carrying him bridal style across the threshold. 

“Oh, haha. Hilarious.” Aoi crossed his arms, thumping his heel lightly against his captor’s stomach. “Now put me the fuck down before I tell Junpei about how you ate bugs when you were three. I’ll fuckin’ do it. I swear I will.”

The figure paused, their quick intake of air audible even behind the mask. “You wouldn’t.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t!” Aoi chimed with a false, hysterical sort of cheer—the kind that can only come from one sleep deprived to the point of hysterics, and in desperate need of a quadruple espresso shot. “I wouldn’t, if you let me sleep more than an hour before my shift instead of stealing me from my bedroom at dawn like a goddamn princess in a tower!”

“…Oh. Sorry.” The figure shifted back and forth uncertainly. The room blurred before Aoi’s eyes as he whipped back and forth, and he groaned, feeling the beginnings of a migraine pricking at his scalp. “I’ll just, um. Down you go?”

Aoi yelped as he landed unceremoniously on the couch, head-first into the sturdy armrest. The shock seemed to knock the air from his lungs, and the headache that was once no more than a dull discomfort now rocketed swiftly into the realm of outright pain.

“You know, you coulda just set me down on the floor,” he protested. The overhead light of the living room was brutal, beating down tenfold in the sleepy calm of morning. He closed his eyes, letting an arm plop against his brow in a makeshift shield against the barrage of brightness. “Fuck, it’s too early for this. The sun isn’t even up and you’re already… The hell kind of prank is…” In the interim, the figure had removed their mask, shaking their dark, crew cut hair from its band. If this was his sister, it was a hell of a growth spurt. “Oh,” he said. “Oh, shit. You’re… not Akane.”

Long forgotten instincts bubbled to the surface. Instincts born from taking shelter on the streets, sizing up every man and woman and child who dared to approach the shivering bundle of a girl at his side. Aoi’s fists opened and closed as he glowered at the intruder. His heart pounded in his chest, spurred by the deep seated protectiveness of an older brother with everything to lose. He resisted the urge to glance towards Akane’s bedroom; resisted it, in case the intruder noticed, and used it against him. Instead, he called to her in the way only he could.

For a tense moment that felt more like three eternities, there was nothing. He prodded again. And again. A feral sort of rage blurred the edges of his vision. If she was harmed… if he touched even a single fucking hair on her head, he would—

“Hm…? Aoi…?”

A B-list horror film blared from the speakers of a small TV, illuminating the living room in a warm glow. Despite the shrill screams of the lead actress, there was a coziness to the rundown apartment that couldn’t be ignored. 

A small houseplant stood proudly atop a bookshelf, adored with so many festive baubles its branches began to droop. Someone had visibly attempted to rig it up with string. While successful, it did little for the sake of aesthetics. Still, the small effort from Akane’s fiancé didn’t go unappreciated—nor was it spared from her amusement.

The girl yawned, burrowing her face into a small throw pillow. Her feet were cold, having drifted outside the warm embrace of her blanket. Lazily, she pressed them against Junpei’s thigh. He jolted awake with a strangled yelp. Akane might have found it funny if she weren’t half asleep.

Akane! Aoi cried into the fields. He latched onto her consciousness, ignoring how she pulled weakly away. Thank fucking god. Look, stay calm, but—

“‘M fine. Still at Junpei’s.” It wasn’t often she forgot she didn’t have to respond out loud. Then again, Aoi generally wasn’t typically picking her brain at this hour. “‘S early… Go back to… sleep…”

Hell no I’m not going to sleep! Akane’s thoughts lulled to a dull murmur, slipping through Aoi’s fingers like sand in an hourglass. He reached forcefully through the fields, grasping her consciousness and yanking it back into coherence. And neither are you! There’s someone in—

“Oh… That timeline…? I left it… mm on my bedside table… G’night…”

The fuck does that even mean?!

Radio silence. 

Akane????

The morphogenetic equivalent of airplane mode. Aoi cursed, cutting what little remained of their connection. He needed his entire mind in the present. There was no telling what sort of danger he was in. At least his baby sister was out of harm’s way, even if it meant staying the night with Junpei. He’d be having a strong word with him later. But for now, he had bigger problems.

“You’re right. I’m not Akane,” the man confirmed. Aoi recoiled as the intruder extended a hand from underneath his sleeve, though he was relieved to find that nothing was hidden in his open palm. “Dr. Sigma Klim at your service. I would offer to shake your hand, though, uh. Judging by the large switchblade you’ve just procured from your left sock, something tells me you aren’t really in the mood for pleasantries.”

So this was Sigma, huh? Aoi held the blade at the ready, feet parted in a defense stance as he rose from the couch. The man certainly fit the description Akane provided. Tall. Muscular. A sharp, brooding fierceness to his features that didn’t quite match the softness in his eyes. He’d seen him in person only once before, on Christmas Eve—and even then, only briefly. Akane had insisted on proceeding alone. Besides, someone had to bite the bullet and keep his batshit crazy girlfriend at bay. Lady hadn’t taken too kindly to the forged breakup texts. Aoi still had the bite marks to prove it.

“You’re damn right I’m not gonna shake your hand,” Aoi snapped. Didn’t matter who this person was—only why he was there. “You’d better have a good fuckin’ explanation for breaking into my apartment. You’re lucky I don’t call the cops to haul your ass to jail.”

“I… wouldn’t advise that.” Sigma appeared sheepish, perhaps even apologetic as he ran a hand through his hair, displacing bits of melted snow that still lingered there. On closer inspection, the man wasn’t adorned with a set of cultist black robes after all, but instead a long, winter trench coat. “Alice mentioned that your outstanding warrants are still being processed. If you contact the police, there’s a greater than zero chance you would be arrested. Possibly Akane, as well.”

Well, shit. There went his bluff.

“Fine,” Aoi sighed, rubbing wearily at his forehead. “Fine. Okay. Sure. No cops.” How many homes had Aoi himself broken into again? He was beginning to lose count. Perturbed though he was, it would be hypocritical to kick the man to the curb without at least finding out what he wanted. 

Not that he had another choice, really.

Aoi flopped back onto the couch, throwing his arms over the back and taking a deep, steadying breath. The haze of sleep was beginning to lift, leaving behind something in its wake resembling coherence. Maybe this person was a stranger (and one who picked his sixth story window lock nonetheless!), but if Akane thought he was harmless, then, well… how bad could he be, really?

The intruder waited patiently by the sofa. He hadn’t moved an inch since Aoi’s outbursts, looking for all the world like a Grecian statue frozen in time, save for the subtle trail of his gaze over the picture frames on the walls. He seemed to linger at one point in particular—a region dangerously close to Aoi’s grade school photos. The man’s lips twitched into a half smile.

Aoi flushed, flying swiftly to his feet. “You thirsty? Because I’m fuckin’ parched.” 

He didn’t wait for an answer. He trudged swiftly into the kitchen, plucking the kettle from its overhead perch above the fridge and plopping it on the stove. He cranked the burner, realizing perhaps a bit too late that he had forgotten to fill the pot with water. The large, floral kettle hissed and steamed as he ran it underneath the faucet. It was already half boiling by the time he eased it back onto the stovetop. He threw two tea bags into the water, watching as it faded to a pleasant caramel color.

“You want sugar?” Aoi called into the other room. The kitchen was beginning to fill with a familiar herbal aroma, melting his remaining doubts. “Got creamer too, but I wouldn’t risk it if I were you. Akane bought it ages ago and refuses to throw it out. Probably looks like a first grade science project by now.”

There was a pause, broken only by the rapid bubbling of the kettle. Aoi wondered for a moment if his “guest” (if he could call him that) had escaped back through the window. “…Sugar is fine. Thank you.”

Aoi nodded, not particularly caring that the other man couldn’t see the gesture from the living room. He dished the liquid into two hefty mugs before scooping a large spoonful of sugar into each. They steamed invitingly from the tray as he carried them back into the other room, lowering them onto the side table before falling back onto the sofa.

“This… isn’t poison, is it?” Sigma gingerly lifted the leftmost mug—the one that was painfully hot pink, bedazzled, and engraved inexplicably with #1 Abuela. It had been a gag gift from Light. Something meant to poke fun at Aoi’s “mother-henning,” as he called it. Still, it was no skin off his back. If caring deeply about his friends meant he was a mother hen, then cluck cluck, motherfucker.

“Nah,” Aoi replied with a yawn. He took the other mug, nursing its warmth in his palm. The hot liquid burnt his tongue, but not enough to dissuade him from the siren song that was caffeine. “Number one rule of assassination, and all that. If I wanted to kill you, it wouldn’t be in my own fuckin’ apartment.”

The other man froze. “That’s… not very reassuring. Is that supposed to be reassuring? Because I’m feeling very unassured right now.”

“If you don’t want it, don’t drink it. I’m the one that wanted tea.” Aoi closed his eyes against the barrage of the overhead light, sipping lightly at his drink. Already, the throb at his skull had begun to lessen. Something about the blend was like a panacea, he thought; like a universal chicken soup to a cold. “You really care about my feelings that much, then just dump it in the sink when I’m not lookin’. I really couldn’t care less.”

“Wait,” Sigma said, gaze flicking to his glittery mug. “Did you say tea? Not coffee?”

“Uh… yeah?” The other man’s brow wrinkled, and Aoi was struck with a sudden realization. He flew to his feet, snatching the mug from his hands. “Shit, you’re allergic to somethin’ in it, aren’t you? Shit. Hold on, I can—“

“No. No, this is fine. Great, actually. Thank you.” Sigma tugged his drink back from Aoi’s grasp. He shrugged, something resembling a smile dancing in his eyes. “I just, wouldn’t have pegged you for a tea kind of guy. That’s all.”

“Yeah?” The beginnings of irritation began to prick at Aoi’s mind. That was before, of course, he noticed the bright and most decidedly pastel pink cloth peeking from the bottom of the other man’s coat. “Well I wouldn’t have pegged you for someone who wears fluffy cat PJs.”

Sigma paused, the mug halfway to his lips. A mischievous grin swallowed his features like a tiny comet to a black hole as he shed his large coat, revealing a matching top that read, to Aoi’s immediate regret, The Cat’s Pajamas. “You kitten me?” Sigma enthused. “They suit me purrfectly. Fur real, I’m feline pretty con-fur-dent in my ap-purr-ence. Could even rock them on the catwalk. I think I’d get a round of ap-paw-se.”

So much for the improving headache. “Remind me to never get you and Junpei in the same room,” Aoi mumbled. He took a large swig of his tea; one which was, to his detriment, nearly the entire mug. He suppressed a cough as the near-boiling drink trickled down his throat. “Think you’re even worse than him, if that’s possible.”

“I will take that as a com-plurr-ment!” Aoi didn’t think the other man’s grin could get any larger. There simply wasn’t enough room on his face, and that was saying something, given that he was at least twice Aoi’s size.

He would never admit that he almost laughed. Not in a million years. “Okay, now that one sucked and you know it.”

Sigma held up a hand, closing his eyes with whatever semblance of stoicism he could manage. “I plead the fifth.”

The conversation dissolved into a companionable silence. Aoi hummed appreciatively as the caffeine worked its magic. He certainly wouldn’t be getting back to sleep that night, but it wasn’t as if he had much time left to begin with. His workload had increased substantially ever since the disastrous DCOM experiment. Twelve hours shifts were far more common than they had been even before the second nonary game. There may or may not be A Terrorist™ who wants to nuke the shit out of the planet wasn’t exactly much to go on, research-wise.

For a moment, Aoi couldn’t help but think that the early start to his day wasn’t so bad after all. He normally had fifteen minutes, tops, to get dressed and out the door; and that was if he wanted to make it to work at 6:30 sharp. Tea was practically out of the question even on a good day. His morning energy boost usually came from a run-down keurig in the break room. It was effective, sure, but equally disappointing. Like downing liquid cardboard in a cup.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he hardly registered when his guest hurtled to his feet, sending a rather impressive cascade of pillows tumbling to the floor.

“Where… did you get this…?!” Sigma choked. The beverage threatened to fall from his grasp, and Aoi dove across the couch, catching it just before it slipped from his fingers. He set it swiftly on the coffee table before turning his attention back to his guest, who now clutched lightly at his chest, eyes distant and unnervingly blank.

“Shit, I thought you weren’t allergic!” Aoi cried. Sigma’s face had begun to redden, and his shoulders trembled uncontrollably. “Why the hell did you—“ Aoi paused, pinching the bridge of his nose. Getting angry wouldn’t do any good here. Briefly, he recalled the time Akane had accepted a granola bar from Junpei in elementary school, believing that the peanuts were actually cashews. Such things weren’t always black and white. “How allergic are we talkin’ here? A benadryl and some water, or an epi-pen and a hospital bed?”

Sigma didn’t respond immediately. His mouth opened and closed, though if he was trying to say something, he didn’t make a sound. When he finally spoke, his voice was weak, and raspy. You could hardly even call it a whisper. “This… this is…”

Aoi sighed, thoughts racing a mile a minute. The guy sounded pretty awful. Hospital it was, then. “Hang on. Just hang on, okay?” He stood, pacing idly across the floor. The police are a no go. What about an ambulance? Medical immunity? Is that still a thing? Even if it wasn’t, he didn’t see much of a choice here. Alice would just have to bail him out later, consequences be damned. “My cell phone is in the other room. I’ll be back. I’ll—“

“No. No, you don’t understand.” The sudden strength to Sigma’s voice made Aoi pause in his tracks. He turned, halfway to his bedroom, to find the man on his feet, clutching the mug desperately to his chest. “This is Luna’s tea.”

“That a brand or somethin’?” Aoi frowned when the man didn’t reply. “If it is, you’re wrong. Akane makes it herself. Dunno what she puts in the stuff, but if you need me to ask, I’ll call her right now.” She may have shut him out telepathically, but he knew for a fact her cell phone still had the ringer on. Junpei was just as insistent about that as Aoi himself. He might not have been particularly fond of the guy, but hey, he had to give credit where it was due.

At this, it was as if the metaphorical floodgates had been opened. Aoi had no idea what he’d said that was so funny, but at his prior remark, the man’s deep sadness seemed to crack like a flimsy eggshell against a metal bowl. Sigma laughed. He laughed until he cried. He laughed until he doubled over, clutching desperately at his stomach. “Akane. Ah, Akane! Of course it was her!” He gasped for air, clapping hysterically at his thigh. “That little minx! She knew all along, didn’t she?”

Aoi thought for a moment that he should be offended on his sister’s behalf, but there was no malice in Sigma’s expression. In fact, there was nothing short of mirth. He was practically glowing with affection as he cupped the blindingly pink mug between his large hands. It radiated from his face like concentrated sunbeams. Aoi clicked his tongue, trying his best to muster up something resembling irritation, but swiftly failed. Sigma’s exuberant joy was almost contagious.

“No clue what you’re going on about,” he began, “but if it’s somethin’ about Akane knowing things she shouldn’t, then you’re probably right.”

“I don’t think shouldn’t is the right word.” Sigma wiped a few tears from his eyes. His raucous laughter had at last dissolved into a fond, unwavering giddiness. “How much did she tell you about our work on Rhizome-9?”

“I know the basics. Not much else.” Aoi was going to leave it at that; however, the expectant silence was unnerving even for him. Sigma waited patiently for him to continue, and Aoi sighed, pondering how much was safe to reveal. New hire or not, Sigma Klim was far from a Crash Keys executive. “Akane and I might work together, but most of our intel comes on a need to know basis. Considerin’ there’s not a universe where I don’t kick the bucket when the plague hits. Well. I didn’t need to know much.”

“…Right.” The look Sigma gave him, all softness and pity and paternal warmth, made Aoi instantly regret the revelation. “Once, in another timeline, Akane and I devoted our whole lives to a project. The AB project, we called it. It was—“

“Yeah, yeah.” Aoi waved a hand dismissively. “Savin’ the world. Time travel. Consciousness swaps. I know that much.”

“I see. I’ll spare you the technical drivel, then.” While the smile never fell from Sigma’s face, there was now a note of melancholy—or was it wistfulness? “The moon… is an unforgiving place. Not like earth. Even our planet scorched by nuclear detonation was still less foreboding than space.” He paused, taking a cautious sip from the mug. It was still near-boiling, though if he was phased by the temperature, he didn’t show it. “Humans weren’t meant to live on the moon. Our muscles… our circulatory systems, they… they don’t always adapt. My Diana’s fragile heart just couldn’t take it. She wilted away, right before my eyes, like a flower under the scorching sun, and I was helpless to do a thing about it.” 

Sigma cupped his mug between his palms. It rocked back and forth slightly in his grasp, almost like a sleeping infant in its mother’s arms. “I… recreated her. As an AI. A GOL-M, I called them. I’m not ashamed to admit it. The thought of living without her was too much to bear. It still is.

“The day that she was reborn as an AI was, I thought, the happiest I’d been in years. But I quickly realized that the woman before me was not Diana. She was less… forceful. Less dynamic. Whereas Diana had a weak heart physically, Luna’s was made of titanium. And yet… even compared to Diana, it was so incredibly, indescribably breakable. Even the slightest of aggressions was enough to send her reeling; withdrawing into herself, sometimes for weeks at a time. She simply wasn’t built for it. The isolation of the moon was too much, and she was slowly going insane, lost endlessly inside her thoughts, with no companion aside from a foolish old man with a pipe dream.

“But then, one day… it happened.”

There was a gentle tug against Aoi’s mind. This was not the force of one trying to pry their way inside, nor the urgent chime of a messenger. It was instead the innocent pull of a powerful transmitter lost in his own thoughts. Akane herself was prone to a similar sort of magnetism. 

Curious, Aoi allowed it to overtake his mind with its gentle, nostalgic allure. It was second nature to him; like breathing. As a powerful receiver himself, he knew he could fight off the presence easily, if it ever became undesirable. The small living room of his apartment blurred before his eyes, transforming into a cold, unfamiliar sight which was nonetheless laced with the rosy hues of nostalgia.

—————————————

Fatherhood was like second nature to Sigma. Being something of an “overgrown child” himself, as Akane had once put it, he had always fancied himself good with kids. Back in his university days, it wasn’t uncommon for a professor or two to ask him to babysit. Of course, the money was the main incentive, but there were times when he actually enjoyed watching the little tikes. Even so, he hadn’t seen many kids since he left Earth so long ago. And Kyle was… Kyle.

Sigma glanced down at the small helmet in his hand. A frayed wire hissed lightly as he clipped it, exchanging it for a sturdier variety. Technically, the boy’s suit didn’t need an electronic air purifying system in his annual size upgrade, but any small luxury he could provide the boy in secret was more than worth it. 

It wasn’t as if Sigma didn’t want to spend time with his son (if you could even call him that, at this point). The young boy had a predetermined destiny, just as his father had one to prepare him for said destiny. It just so happened that Kyle’s fate couldn’t happen, should he be raised under… warmer circumstances. A Kyle who spent time apprenticing in his father’s workshop simply wouldn’t have the heart to betray. Unlike his older twin, of course, who needed no such prompting.

Sigma sighed as he closed the helmet’s latch, securing it with the key on the back side. Certainly, he wished there was more he could do for Kyle, but for now the subtle improvements to his suit would have to do.

…Though he supposed the suit wasn’t the only thing he had gifted him.

At the corner of his workshop, the GOL-M known simply as Luna stood unmoving. It was her default mode. Standby. Ready and waiting for orders, should they come. 

So very unlike Diana.

Sigma shook his head, willing the stray thought to dissipate. Generally speaking, Luna’s standard state would be to attend to Kyle, though the boy had requested that she be removed entirely from his presence. Without a purpose, she had taken to idling by Sigma as he worked. If he hadn’t known better, he would almost say that she looked sad.

But that was impossible, wasn’t it? 1s and 0s do not emotion make.

“Sooooo,” Sigma began. The sterile silence was near unnerving, and he could bear it no longer. “The helmet is finished. What do you think, Luna? Isn’t it sublime?”

“Your work is wonderful as always, Dr. Klim.” Her reply was instant. She hardly left room for a single breath. The girl’s gaze never strayed from his own as she beamed, all teeth and no eyes.

Sigma sighed. The helmet fell back onto his workspace with a metallic thunk. His own reflection glared back at him, as cantankerous and disapproving as ever. “You didn’t even look at it.”

“Would you like for me to look at it, Dr. Klim?” It was a question, and yet it wasn’t. This was not the soft, gentle curiosity of a human—of Diana—but instead the unnerving drive for orders from a machine. The sugary sweetness of her voice changed nothing about her true internal state.

“No, no. There’s no need. You’re right. I am too great for my own good.” Sigma draped a hand over his forehead, heaving a dramatic sigh. It would be enough to earn at least a cold look from Akane, he thought, if not worse.

“Yes. Very great, Dr. Klim.” Luna’s eyes shimmered with uncontained admiration. Admiration which was, in Sigma’s opinion, unmerited—at least, by disqualification of arrogance alone.

Sigma deflated, every ounce of bravado sapped instantly from his muscles.“You aren’t supposed to agree!” 

He said that, and yet he knew it wasn’t true. Hadn’t he designed her with the laws of robotics in mind? How could he ever expect her to be like her if she was forced to tend to his every whim? 

She wouldn’t have put up with his arrogance. She would have scoffed, saying that the only thing he was great at was fraying her every last nerve. She would have smiled, though. She always smiled.

“I… I’m very sorry. I’ve upset you again, haven’t I?” The girl’s hand hovered over his shoulder. She was so close, he could feel the artificial warmth from her palm. “I don’t want you to be unhappy. I only wanted—“

“No, you didn’t!” Sigma cried. A subtle, unplaced fury that had been burning in his chest, smoldering since her creation, threatened to combust. “Surely you don’t want to stand there all day like a bump on a log. What do you want, Luna? Tell me, and it’s yours.”

Her reply was disappointing, but not unexpected. “I only want to serve you and your family, Dr. Klim. That is my purpose. That’s… why I was born, wasn’t it?” Her eyes flicked uncertainly to the small helmet on the table. Instantly, her gaze seemed to soften, and for a moment, Sigma felt a subtle pang to his own heart.

“Fine, then,” he relented. An idea was beginning to form. It was crazy, perhaps, and would go nowhere… But if it did… “What if I said you could ‘serve’ me by serving yourself?”

A pause. Just a heartbeat; but more than the girl had ever allowed before. “I’m sorry, but… I don’t think I understand. Could you possibly… rephrase the command…?”

“I can.” Sigma leaned against his work bench, drumming his fingers idly on the wooden surface. He knew precisely what he wanted to say—but how to say it? “Luna. No—Luna Klim. I created you to be the doppleganger to the woman who once held my entire heart in her hands. She was a nurse. A caregiver. Smart as a whip. The motherly sort of person who is born to care for others. You are much like her in this regard. Still, I’ve come to realize that you are not Diana. You. Are. Luna.”

The GOL-M tilted her head, cupping her hands before her chin. It was a reaction he had programmed himself; an easy quirk to detect when the AI was taking a bit longer to process. “Yes,” she confirmed. “I’m Luna. Would you like me to be Diana instead?”

“No!” Sigma groaned. (Yes, GOD yes, his subconscious chimed, though he shooed away the errant thought. He had long abandoned that idea, even if a small, guilt-ridden part of him still longed for it.) “Absolutely not! I want you to be Luna, whatever that means. I… want you to find your bluebird.” His hand was reaching in his pocket before he could stop himself. The gilded cage on a chain; the one he’d kept on his person since the day she passed. Just five minutes ago, someone would have had to pry the necklace from his cold, dead hands. Now, though, he parted with it so easily, and he wasn’t even sure why. He cupped her pale, slender hands with one of his own, pressing it firmly into her palm. “Take this, and find out who Luna is. Find what makes you happy, and report back to me immediately when you do.”

As she gazed down at the small ornament, her soft, cerulean eyes were wide with… something. It was certainly a mimic of some emotion. Generally, it was much clearer to the trained eye. Robot “feelings” were not complicated. It was like flipping a switch between settings, not wavering uncertainly between them. “Happy,” she whispered. Her fingers curled around the small charm, her thumb stroking the edges of the bars. “It’s not something I know much about, but… I think maybe you make me happy, Dr. Klim.”

The scientist nearly lost his footing, jamming his elbow into his workbench. He rubbed at the injury good-naturedly, chuckling as the girl produced a small bandage from her skirt pocket. “I didn’t mean it like that!” Sigma chortled. Perhaps Luna’s personality was reminiscent of Diana, though he certainly hadn’t programmed her memories or feelings. Then again, she did have a neural network of her own, didn’t she? He couldn’t help the warm flush that rose to his cheeks. But flattered though he was… “I want you to find a hobby, Luna. Something to do in your spare time, when you aren’t tending to my every need. I, for instance, like to crochet!” He whipped open a drawer at his workstation, tugging a small bundle of red fabric free. There was a border of little snowflakes at the edges. At the center was a lacy box embedded with the words Somebunny Loves Me. “I made a festive sweater for Lagomorph just last month, you see? He can’t wear it physically, but I made it nonetheless, just because the idea made me smile.”

Luna seemed to ponder this. Her head did not tilt. Instead, she met his gaze—unflinching, unwavering, and with the fierce sort of determination he would expect from his own flesh and blood. “I think I finally understand. Yes! I’ll find something that makes me happy, too! I promise, I won’t let you down!”

As she clasped the small bluebird around her neck, the smile reached her eyes.

—————————————

The emergency alert system of Rhizome-9 was not easy on the ears even on a good day. At 0408 lunar time, it was particularly dreadful.

“Wakey wakey, Siggy-o!” Lagomorph cried via the speaker embedded underneath the bed. Sigma stirred, plucked from the clutches of some vague dream, though he was far from outright consciousness. “Oi! I said rise ‘n shine, ya old featherduster! Maaaaybe you just need a little encouragement!”

This was followed by the AI’s vocal rendition of what appeared to be a freestyle dubstep remix of Morning Mood by Edvard Grieg. He’d also acquired a virtual recorder—inexplicably off-key, of course. Sigma groaned at the sudden assault to his ears. He was in a morning mood alright, but it sure wasn’t a pleasant one.

Still, it wasn’t as if he could ignore the call to arms forever. It was simply one of the hardships that came with living on a lunar base. Mechanical flaws wouldn’t wait until morning, after all, and came with risks far greater than simple inconvenience. 

Sigma opened his eyes to a rather familiar sight, even in the darkness. The GOL-M’s eyes shone unnaturally from the foot of his bed. An eerie vision to some, perhaps; though to Sigma, her presence was a welcome development. It wasn’t unusual for Luna to provide a detailed report during the night, and she was far easier to hold a conversation with than her rabbit counterpart.

Sigma yawned, reaching blindly for the lamp. Immediately, the girl scurried to his side, pulling easily on the drawstring. The room burst to life in a flurry of artificial fluorescence.

“Good morning, Dr. Klim!” Luna chimed. Her long, lacy nightgown swished around her ankles, and there was a light smear of dirt on her freckled cheek. Her red hair hung in twin braids tied with cerulean ribbon, though the leftmost had begun to come loose. “Did you sleep well?”

“Other than being woken in the middle of the night?” he remarked. The girl seemed to droop visibly at the comment, and he cleared his throat. She may not have had real emotion, but she was certainly convincing, at times. “Still, duty calls, doesn’t it? What seems to be the problem? Not the life support again, I hope?”

The AI shook her head. Her braids whipped back and forth, smacking lightly at her back. “No. Not the life support.”

“The cryogenic pods, then?” If it was, that could be a disaster and a half. The occupants weren’t scheduled to wake for a long while yet. There had been a brief scare three years ago when movement was detected inside Clover’s pod, though it was deemed to be a false alarm. Kyle had merely tripped and jostled it a little, triggering the emergency alarm.

“No, not the pods either.” The girl seemed to stand up a little straighter. Her hands were cupped firmly behind her back as she leaned forward, practically vibrating with anticipation. “I’ve finally found something that made me smile, Dr. Klim.”

Sigma blinked. He’d almost forgotten about their conversation from two months prior, though the girl didn’t flinch. Right—she wasn’t one for pranks, was she? “T-that’s great, Luna. I’m very happy for you.” The GOL-M beamed proudly, and the genuine curve of her lips was almost enough to rouse Sigma from his groggy stupor. Almost, but not quite. “However, truth be told, I’m still very tired. If that’s what all the fuss is about, then could it possibly wait until the morning?”

“No!” Luna blurted. Sigma’s brow furrowed. No certainly wasn’t in her usual vocabulary. “You ordered me to return to you immediately when I found it. I… I have my report!”

Sigma couldn’t help but smile, himself. “So I did.” He rose wearily to a sitting position, patting amicably at the spot beside him. Perhaps he was still half asleep, though she made a good point. He couldn’t very well argue with his own orders, now could he? “Let’s hear it, then. What makes Luna smile?”

Luna did not sit. Instead, she shoved a large, gnarled… thing… so close to Sigma’s face that he had to look cross-eyed to see it properly. He sputtered as a fair amount of dirt made its way into his mouth, sprinkling like snowfall from its edges onto his blanket.

“Well,” he choked, swiping at his mouth. “That is definitely not what I was expecting.” He shoved the offending item to the side. At a distance, it looked vaguely familiar. Something brown, and tuber-like. Definitely one of the specimens from the growing chamber. Ginger, perhaps? “Can I ask why you chose this particular thing?”

An instant reply, as always. “It’s very ugly.”

Sigma frowned. Ugly? It was just a regular ginger plant, wasn’t it? Still, he found his gaze drawn once again to the root. Ginger wasn’t exactly a pretty specimen by any means, so he supposed he could understand what Luna meant. Still, though… the ones he’d harvested in the past weren’t quite so… warty, were they? The edges twisted and writhed, tapering to rigid, furry ends almost like a gnarled set of toes. Sigma recoiled—and then, instantly realized the humor of the situation.

“Ugly, you say? Indeed it is!” he guffawed. It truly was a sight to behold, and not one he would have noticed on his own. “And that made you smile?” The GOL-M nodded fervently. Her fiery, stoic enthusiasm threatened to make him laugh anew. “I think I understand now. It is quite delightful. Thank you for bringing it to my attention, Luna.”

She nodded. “Yes! Of course. You’re welcome!” Despite her prior resolve, Luna fiddled with the hem of her dress. It was odd, Sigma thought. Normally she was so… stiff. So unsure of herself, yet unwavering in her purpose. Now, however, these traits were almost mirrored. She was so confident, so passionate, and yet…

“Is that all?” Sigma prompted gently. Instantly, the girl bit her lip, rocking almost imperceptibly on her heels. “I get the impression that perhaps you had something else on your mind.”

“You’re right,” Luna admitted. Some of the rigidity seemed to loosen around her shoulders. She cupped her hands below her chin, the question lingering in her eyes even before she asked it. “You’re always right, Dr. Klim. I was actually… thinking about what I wanted…”

Well, that was a development. Sigma hadn’t directly ordered her to find what she wanted, did he? Perhaps he had mentioned it briefly, though it was only a passing thought and nothing more. Had she been pondering this all those weeks? Was that even possible, given her source code?

“I’d like a garden, Dr. Klim,” the girl declared. “With sunlight. And grass.” Luna lifted the root once again. Though ‘ugly,’ as she put it, there was still a subtle, natural sort of beauty to the way it twisted and turned in the warm glow of the table lamp. “I’ve read that many plants from Earth thrived in natural sunlight. The growing chamber is nothing like the images of earth from my database. If we recreate it, I think… I think maybe… they would grow. Maybe they wouldn’t be so small, and withered, and sad anymore. Maybe they could even be beautiful, with a little care.”

“A garden, you say.” Sigma stroked his chin. He’d considered something similar himself, actually. It was a silly dream that he’d once toyed with but quickly discarded. The growing chamber, unlike a field, was an optimal use of space. It didn’t require grass. Some specimens didn’t even require soil, relying instead on suspended aquaponics. “I’m inclined to say no given space restrictions. However, if you can provide evidence of practicality, then—“

“Oh, but it would make me very happy, Dr. Klim!”

Sigma grinned. Mental health was practical indeed. Akane may give him the cold shoulder for converting the large storage room, but consequences be damned. Luna Klim had found her bluebird, and he wasn’t about to open the cage.

—————————————

“And that was how it started,” Sigma recounted. “With the garden.” 

Aoi wasn’t quite sure what to say. His mind still buzzed with a medley of sensations and emotions that weren’t quite his own, however real they felt. “Well,” he mumbled. “Not too hard to guess how that relates to the tea.”

“Perhaps not.” Sigma smiled into his cup. It was almost odd seeing him as a young man now. It wasn’t as if Aoi ever saw his full older appearance in the vision, per se; after all, the entire scene was viewed from Sigma’s own eyes. Still, maintaining the perceptions of others was an (at times) unfortunate side effect of being a natural receiver. He’d even made the mistake of resonating with a flea-bitten dog, once. He was scratching at his forearms for weeks, and was still trying very hard to forget the incident with the mailman.

“After the garden was complete,” Sigma continued, “Luna proceeded to transplant the most pitiful crops we had on the base. Only the ugly ones, by her own definition. She insisted. As it turned out, she had a knack for gardening. Maybe that isn’t surprising given that she had an entire database at her fingertips, and yet it is such a delicate art. One which even humans struggle with.” Sigma smiled, reaching lightly for a pot of lilies on the coffee table. He took a withered petal, long forgotten in the topsoil, between his calloused fingertips. “It takes a real gift. A human gift. Luna had that gift.”

“A human gift, huh?” Aoi watched as Sigma nudged a layer of soil over the flower fragment. “Thought you said she was a robot.”

“I used to think so, too. Now, though, I suppose that depends on your definition of human. If, for example, I were to transplant your consciousness into a GOL-M’s body, would you still consider yourself a human being?”

“Depends on your definition of human,” Aoi echoed. He tapped his fingers against his mug, eyeing the spot where the petal had vanished into the flowerpot. “You want my honest answer, though? I think people put way too much emphasis on bein’ human in the first place. No way we’re alone in the universe. No way in hell. Even if you don’t believe in that sorta thing, though, you don’t even have to look past earth to see humans aren’t the only ones that are sentient. We’ve got tribes of apes wagin’ calculated war against each other. We’ve got birds that crack seeds by droppin’ em in traffic. Hell, even dogs show neurological evidence of love for their owners, not that you need a scan to see it in the first place.

“So, long and short of it? If robot girl was sentient, then she’s sentient. Doesn’t matter what her brain’s made of if it thinks.”

“Yes!” Sigma enthused. “Yes, she did. Still does, somewhere out there. I believe you’re right in saying that Luna isn’t human, but still she has a bigger heart and a more brilliant mind than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Gotta disagree with you there.” Aoi’s gaze trailed along the east wall, which was adorned with various awards and certificates in matching frames. Science award, third grade. Most likely to succeed, high school. His sister was mortified at the new additions, though Aoi always claimed it was his god-given right as her older brother to embarrass her as much as humanly possible. He said that, though in reality he couldn’t help but take pride in his baby sister’s accomplishments. “Sorry, but Akane’s the biggest know-it-all on the planet. No contest.”

Sigma chuckled as he wiped the dirt from his palm. “The two aren’t mutually exclusive, you know. Luna does live on the moon, to be technical.”

“You know, I’m really startin’ to get really tired of your technicalities.”

Sigma toyed with the frayed logo on his pajama shirt. “Yes. Most do. Takes a meow-ntain of patience to hold a con-purr-sation with me, or so I’ve been told.”

Aoi was beginning to understand why. Best not to encourage him. “So. You said this robot girl of yours made the same tea as my sister,” he observed. “What’s in it?” 

Akane would never tell him. Something cryptic about it not being the right time or place, and blah blah blah. He always thought it was just normal sibling banter, but he really should have known better. Akane didn’t mess around when it came to prophesies.

“Well. There’s tea leaves, of course,” Sigma listed, tapping at his fingers. “Harvested as a green tea, I suspect, by the flavor. There’s certainly ginger, though she also once admitted to cloves and tomato. There are other ingredients that even I don’t know about, I’m sure.”

“Tomato, huh?” Aoi peered into his empty mug, eyeing the last dregs of tea leaves lingering at the bottom. “I don’t hate many foods, but tomato’s one of ‘em. It’s got the texture of a fruit, but the taste of a vegetable.” Even so, he hadn’t lost his taste for the concoction. Something about it was like home, abstract though the sentiment was.

“I’ve never had a taste for ginger myself,” Sigma agreed. He turned over his mug, revealing not even a single drop left in the container. “But here I am, having downed the entire mug like my life depended upon it!”

Aoi nodded appreciatively. Perhaps he was biased, having received his own stash as a cherished gift from his younger sister; and yet even still, even if he had plucked it from some barren department store shelf, he knew that it would still be his favorite blend.

The companionable atmosphere was at once shattered by a shrill, unforgiving tone. Aoi startled, eyes darting towards the offending device on the coffee table which seemed to shake the entire apartment like a small earthquake in the early calm of dawn. Within seconds, Sigma dove for his cell phone, eyes flicking intently over the screen. Aoi couldn’t help but read the offending message over his large shoulders.

Sigma u big dumb, if ur reading this ur screwed lmao.

“Ahh, why did I have to be so cryptic!” Sigma bemoaned. He massaged his palms over his eyes, his large brow drawing into a scowl.

“Cryptic? Really?” Aoi deadpanned. He reached across the sofa, tapping at the snooze button on the touch screen. “Seems pretty to the point, if you ask me.”

Sigma peeked between his fingers. “To the point, yes. But the context? That’s another matter entirely!”

The context? Aoi stared, turning the words over in his mind. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re tellin’ me you set an alarm for four in the fuckin’ morning and can’t even remember why?”

“You could say that,” Sigma sighed. Despite his youthful appearance, he seemed to age at least 20 years with his solemn expression alone. “I consider myself a bit of a prodigy when it comes to memory, but this sort of thing is pushing it. I am getting up there in age, you know.”

All at once, the pieces clicked. Aoi whistled appreciatively. “Right. Forgot you’re a geezer at heart. Your memory startin’ to go?”

“First of all: Ow!” Sigma bristled, clutching melodramatically at his chest. “Second of all, not what I meant! You try remembering something that happened fifty years ago!”

“Right,” Aoi drawled. He crossed his arms, leaning back on the couch. “I’ll get right on that. How could I ever forget my negative 30th birthday party? Was a real banger. Someone spiked the punch.”

Sigma eyed him warily. “You know, I get the feeling you aren’t taking this seriously. It is the reason I came to your apartment, after all. I don’t pay many people a housecall at this hour.”

Aoi frowned. Oh, right. He’d almost forgotten the circumstances behind their meeting. “You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me,” he marveled. Sigma shook his head sadly. “You’re tellin’ me you broke into my apartment to help you decipher a random fuckin’ phone alarm from your youth?”

“Well. Not quite,” Sigma admitted. He stared intently at his phone, as if willing it telepathically to reveal its secrets. “There was an alarm prior to this one alerting me of a math exam in the morning. However… to be frank, I can’t even remember which course I’m enrolled in, let alone feel confident enough to take a final exam.” He had begun to pace by the window, where the beginnings of dawn were beginning to whittle away at the darkness. “Unfortunately, I was never one to take notes in class. My mind was like a steel trap. I had no need to have notes, if I could recall any content at a moment’s notice. ‘Any content’ meaning in the near future, of course. Not several decades across time and space. The only clue I’ve found as to my exam’s content was a crumpled sheet of paper in my coat pocket. The one still lying on the couch, in fact. It is in the leftmost pocket, if you’d like to see it.”

Of course Aoi was a little curious, but that didn’t outweigh his other inclinations. “Gonna be real with you here. I think advanced college math is the last thing I wanna do on two hours of sleep.”

Sigma stopped in his tracks. He peered at Aoi with something reminiscent of a kicked puppy. “I guess that’s fair. It’s just, Akane told me that you were quite good with numbers. I tried contacting her first, but she shut me out almost immediately and sent me here instead. I thought that meant you’d agreed, but it seems there was a misunderstanding.”

Aoi should have guessed. He really should have. Still, if someone had to miss out on sleep, he would much rather it be him than his overworked little sister. She had enough on her plate already. “Fine,” he mumbled. “Whatever. Sure. If it keeps you off Akane’s back, I’ll look at your goddamn math homework. But you owe me.”

Sigma perked up, rushing enthusiastically to his side. He shuffled around in his coat for a moment before producing a small, crumpled paper. He smoothed it on the table. Against Aoi’s better judgment, he leaned forward for a better look.

…And promptly laughed in Sigma’s face.

“Ohhh man. You really are screwed, aren’t ya?” he snickered. There were so many equations on the page that they seemed to swim together into an unidentifiable blob. “Not to brag, but math is kinda my thing as a stockbroker. But this?” Even on a more reasonable sleep schedule, Aoi was confident he would be stumped by the cramped jumble of black text. He squinted, convinced for a moment that he must have grown nearsighted spontaneously. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen so much fine print in a single fuckin’ equation. If it is an equation. Last time I checked, there were supposed to be numbers in math. You sure this isn’t from literature class?”

Sigma groaned, his arms stretching rather pathetically across the table. “That’s what I said! But Diana wasn’t interested in discussing the nuances of theoretical mathematics. In fact, she banished me to the couch!”

“Wow. Wonder why.” Aoi plucked the page from underneath Sigma’s hands, flipping it over in hopes of finding an answer key. As with most aspects of his life, it wasn’t quite that simple. It wasn’t necessarily that he couldn’t identify the symbols in the equation. The sigma implied a sum, of course, and taking a natural log of anything is pretty straightforward. Still, it’s quite difficult to plug the derivative of p into an equation if you don’t have even a single idea what the letter represents. “Seriously, though. I dunno what the fuck this is,” he mumbled. “If that was your only reason for wakin’ me up, then you’re better off waiting until… Akane…”

Until Akane wakes up. That’s what he was going to say. But Akane didn’t operate by the usual rules of time, now did she? In fact, she’d already provided him with everything he needed.

He never did find out what she meant by it’s on the nightstand table.

Grinning, Aoi let the offending page flutter to the floor. He walked the small distance to his sister’s room, pushing open the door which was already slightly ajar. Her room was just as she left it: prim, orderly, and not a speck of dust in sight. The walls were the color of sugarplums, and the bed was made so perfectly that it looked like it was plucked from a home improvement magazine. He always wondered how she kept it so clean in there despite being so outlandishly busy. Though Aoi was a bit of a neat freak himself, even his room had a few loose items of clothing strewn about.

It didn’t take long to find the small notepad propped on her bedside table. It was small, and unassuming, with a single post-it note adorning its surface. Her neat, ornate handwriting was unmistakable: For my dearest Sigma. Good luck—you’ll need it!

“Have I mentioned how much I love your sister?” Sigma peered over his shoulder, practically salivating over the small tome. Aoi raised an eyebrow, and the man recoiled, hands raised defensively. “Not like that! I’m engaged now, you know. Happened just two days ago. My lovely fiancé beat me to the punch.” 

He said it so proudly that Aoi couldn’t help but wonder what he found so special about the girl. He had met Diana once, a few days ago, at Akane’s request. Something about getting along with the new hires. He hadn’t been introduced to all of them yet, though the leader of D Team was first on the list. 

She was pretty enough, Aoi supposed. Flaming red hair. Baby blue eyes. A rather cute splattering of freckles across her nose, and her cheeks dimpled readily when she smiled. Her demeanor was sunny, though she maintained an aura of staunch professionalism which remained steely and unbreakable even under the rigorous interrogations of Crash Keys. He wouldn’t necessarily call her a knock-out, nor a stand-out personality by any means. Still, he supposed he didn’t dislike her. Already, her work ethic left little to be desired. 

“Don’t worry. We don’t plan to marry until the terrorist is apprehended,” Sigma reassured. Aoi wasn’t sure why he felt the need to defend himself; he had never seen marriage as much of an issue, all things considered. In fact, he thought it might be better to expedite such plans, given the current transient state of the world. Akane, however, would argue the contrary. She herself had postponed her wedding to Junpei until the unforeseeable future. Our duty to humanity comes first, she argued. Our duty to ourselves can come later.

“We won’t, um, plan for anything else, either,” Sigma added. “So, you don’t have to worry about that. The last thing we want is to bring even more children into a world that could explode at any second. Even the two we already—or, wait, or maybe four would be more accurate. Five…? Seven…?!”

Sigma threw a desperate, confused glance Aoi’s way, and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Don’t look at me. Even just thinkin’ about your family tree gives me a headache.” Aoi thought his family’s history was complicated. It paled in comparison to D Team. Everyone’s did.

“Ah, well, I guess that makes two of us,” Sigma chuckled. He reached for the journal in Aoi’s hand, placing his hand lightly on the cover. “May I?”

Though he couldn’t help but be curious about its contents, Aoi relinquished the book to its rightful owner. Sigma opened the small tome, thumbing swiftly through its pages. Aoi caught a glance of one of them. It wasn’t pretty—not that he expected Akane’s insane propensity for mathematics to be anything less than entirely incomprehensible.

“Dunno what any of those symbols mean,” Aoi observed, “but as long as you do, guess that’s all that matters.”

“Oh, I don’t either!” Sigma enthused. He at last reached the last page, closing the book with a flourish. “But I don’t need to understand them to have a fighting chance, now do I?”

“What kinda classes are you takin’ where you don’t have to understand the equations?”

“If only I knew!” Sigma tucked the book underneath his broad shoulder, patting it affectionately with his free hand. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I would like to go home and take a power nap before my apparently very important exam.” He plucked his cell phone from his pocket, paling instantly as the screen flashed to life. “A very, very brief one.”

The man rushed back to the living room, hurriedly gathering his trenchcoat from the sofa. He cursed as his journal toppled from his arms in his haste. It floundered to the floor, bouncing off the rim of the discarded gas mask before rolling a small distance away. Sigma plucked both items from the carpet, securing the straps of the mask easily around his ears before tugging it up and around his face.

“Wait,” Aoi said, a key realization finally dawning. “Why were you wearin’ Akane’s mask in the first place? She lend it to you or somethin’?” She wouldn’t have, was the thing. It was far from a treasured possession, though it was a very important relic of their past. And if she didn’t lend it, then…

“I… might have borrowed it. Briefly. Without asking.” Aoi was reminded suddenly of an old cartoon character whistling innocently as they tried to feign innocence. He crossed his arms, and Sigma toyed nervously with the cuff of his sleeve. “Truth be told, I was planning to return it at work tomorrow. And it’s not as if she wouldn’t know it was gone. This is Akane we’re talking about.”

“Can’t argue with that logic,” Aoi conceded. If his sister didn’t want the item to be taken, Sigma likely would have been met with a scenario straight out of Home Alone. “Don’t think you’re off the hook, though. Thought you were just here for your stupid math homework, not to rob me blind.”

Aoi paused, briefly regretting his choice of idioms as he waited for the snarky retort. He was spending too much time with Light, lately. He could already see Akane’s smug expression; the suggestive waggle of her eyebrows when no one else was looking. For the first time that evening, Aoi was suddenly glad she couldn’t hear his thoughts. 

“It’s not like I wanted to, uh… borrow it,” Sigma rushed to explain. “It’s just, the doorman, you know?” He nodded to himself, as if solidifying his own logic. If you could call it logic.

“That supposed to be English?” Aoi deadpanned. “Thought I was fluent. Guess I need to go back to the fuckin’ first grade.”

“Ah, sorry, sorry,” Sigma amended sheepishly. He rubbed at the back of his head, tugging up his coat where it had dropped below his neckline. “I get ahead of myself, sometimes. I suppose I forgot to mention I SHIFTed here this evening. You see, there was a rather unfortunate encounter with the apartment building’s security. I didn’t realize that doormen were generally, ah. Armed. Heavily. With machine guns. And also nunchucks. Dual wielding, really. Quite an unfortunate combination.”

Aoi couldn’t help but laugh. “Pfft. Yeah, most places don’t have that,” he acknowledged. “But the building where most of the Crash Keys higher ups live? Yeah, we’re gonna have good fuckin’ security. Good to know it’s worth shelling out the extra cash, at least.”

“Iiiiiis it though?” Sigma’s teasing lilt was somehow even more irritating through the layer of voice morphing software. “I did make it through your bedroom window, after all. You can’t exactly have a