Man, what a day.
I almost miss all the boredom I was so used to.

As I brandish my blade at the enemy, I think about all the dull days I spent with Mama. With Pod.

For long days and months over decades, we kept watch together over the server on the lunar base that housed all of humanity's data.

But nothing noteworthy happened during that time. Day in and day out, all we did was prepare for an emergency that might occur one day. It was so boring that there were times when I wasn't sure if I was alive or dead.

But the day finally came. The day to fight back the enemy that attacked the server was finally upon us.

"Great... There's more of them."

I talk to myself in an attempt to inspire myself to fight.

Ordinarily, this level of emergency would require immediate decontamination. But my job right now is to hold this area while the sun and moon are conjunct, opening the path so that Pod and my other friends from The Cage can reach Earth safely.

In truth, I wanted to see Earth with my own eyes alongside everyone. But...I left my body back on the base, and it broke a long time ago. The body I have now, a facsimile in this virtual space, is glitchy and corrupted. Countless error codes obscure my vision and hearing.

Every part of me is at its limit — my body, my consciousness data. Everything that makes me who I am is nearing its breaking point. That's tantamount to death.

But it's so strange. I know I'm going to die soon, but I've never felt so alive. Ever. Is this what it means to die? No... I think this is what it means to live.

The blade feels awkward in my hands, but that's hardly a consideration as I brandish it to my enemies. My swordsmanship is so clunky it even makes me laugh. But you know what? That's fine. The tip of my blade is meeting its target regardless.

As a Healer type, I wasn't originally suited for combat, but I added a little upgrade to my OS for this day alone.

Slowly but surely, I dispatch one enemy after another. It's my tenacity that keeps me going. I will see my friends to Earth. That thought alone drives my will.

I'm surprised at how powerful a weapon attachment to such a thought can be. I somehow manage to successfully keep the enemies at bay around me....But it's not over yet.

Snow begins to fall. A light flurry soon grows into a blizzard. White smudges appear on the digital flagstone.

The sharp peal of a bell echoes around me. It almost sounds like it's ringing in celebration, but I know it's not.

Here it comes!

The bell heralds the emergence of an even more powerful enemy. My hand around my sword handle grips tighter.

"Whoa, wait. What...is that...?"

I speak despite myself.
I've never seen anything like this before.

Countless flying enemies form a mass against the sky.
They all look like...giant babies.

"Mama... Mama..."

The babies babble the same word over and over again. The echoing whispers settle heavy and dark inside of me. It's creepy, yes, but more than that, my intuition tells me that this is bad.

The babies fly toward me and begin their destruction, feeding on the structure of the virtual space, all the while laughing, crying, and playing innocently.

"Damn it!"

I try to fight back, but my body is at its limit. I have nothing to fight the babies back with. They devour my body too.

My legs that walked alongside my friends. My hands that reached out to my friends. They are mercilessly made into food. Clear as day, I feel the end approaching....Man, what a day. A long day that's going to end in my death.

My consciousness data crumbles. As it does, the endless babble of Mama, Mama resonates within me.

And I...can't believe myself. Now, of all times, I think back to the modest times I spent together with Pod.

We'd been having breakfast together like always when she tried to get me to call her "Mama." I rebelled — ugh, that's so stupid, that's so embarrassing — and I refused to entertain her.

But at the end of the day, I think Pod was like a mother to me.

"If only I could've called you that just once."

I don't know if my voice is even working anymore.

"Mama...I wish I could see you again..."

Yet I squeeze out what words I can.

"...I want to live."

I don't know if I have hands anymore.
Yet I reach out for the pure white snow.

"I want to live."

I need to call Pod "Mama." And until I can — 

"I want to live. I waNt to LivE. I wAnT t0 LIvE!"

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Endless silence. Eternal nothingness.
When my consciousness data vanished, it all ended.
Everything.

The entirety of my data disperses through the digital space, and the connection with the world I just barely managed to establish is severed. I understand, at long last, that this is death.

So why is there still a faint glimmer of consciousness here?

A long time passes. A day, maybe. A month. A year? Years, maybe. Or centuries. My mechanism that tracks time is already gone, of course. But instinctively, I understand that a long time is passing me by.

Then, a hypothesis comes to me. Maybe the reason I've managed to hold onto consciousness is because, on the brink of death, I clung to my desire to live.

And as I endure eternity, I still hold fast to it....

And then, at long, long last, new data is born in the wreckage of the digital space — in this nothingness — and I can control it.

I create my own virtual body. My arms, my legs, my torso — even logic circuits worthy of the human mind.

If I stop to think about it, it's all so strange — the logic circuits are the core of an android's thought process. Yet even without any, I could still think with this consciousness and build new logic circuits with my own hands.

But that's not enough. I want a place where I can exist. Even if I have a body, having nowhere to be might as well be like not existing at all.

And so, next, I build myself a home in the nothingness. It is a vast, white space devoid of anything at all. This is the origin of all things, if you will.

I reach into the air and clench my fist. Excellent — my body works. I stomp on the empty floor with the sole of my shoe. Okay — things are looking good in this space.

And then, in an act of self-inspiration, I throw my arms wide....

All right. Now I've got to get back to Mama and the others, somehow.

I must find a way to get out of this broken virtual space ― this world of nothingness. Which means...

Everything must start here.

Here, at the end of the journey I walked alongside Pod and my friends from The Cage, I remained alone in the digital space connecting the lunar base and Earth to ensure that everyone else could reach their destination. Combat has never exactly been my forte, but I managed to stop the enemy's advance.

Then, out of the blue, massive babies appeared. They destroyed the entirety of the virtual space, along with my own data.

But I suppose my tenacity of purpose had an effect. After what felt like an eternity, I successfully managed to revive myself. And with that, I gained the power to create things in this digital space.

The first thing I created was my own body. Then I created an empty white space. It was a little lonely, but I'm used to places like this. Plus, it reminds me of the lunar base.

I made a vow: I'm going back to Mama and the others. I just need to figure out a way to do that...

Through trial and error, I learn how to create all sorts of things.

I create little blocks, construct boxes, and then piece them together to make a small hut. Nice. This will be my house from now on.

One day, I will leave this space and return to my original world. To do so, I want to be able to use these abilities to the greatest extent possible.

Every time I create something, I think about the weapon memory data stored in The Cage. I recreate all the wonderful things I witnessed in them.

The pretty hairpin the hunter gave to her little sister. The school dorms where the mage children once lived. The splendid palace that stood between sand and sea.

But something is missing from all these things. And that's because... I'm alone.

No sister to give a hairpin to, no friends to live through the pains and joys of school life with, no lover to whisper sweet nothings to in the palace...

I have no one.

I'm used to acting on my own for my duty, but now that I think about it...

I had Pod with me back then. I wasn't alone.

Right now, I can create all sorts of things. But I highly doubt I can make complicated machines like the pods, much less life itself.

"Oh, right!"

I clap my hands.

I don't have to create machines or life — I have friends. Ones who kept me company in my long, dull days working on the moon base.

"Strike while the iron is hot," or so an ancient human saying goes. I get to work right away.

I create a massive library. It's empty — there are no books yet. But around me, countless bookshelves spring into being like music from piano keys.

Here, I will start writing books. Lots of them. I will fill this entire library.

I had friends who kept me from being lonely. They were part of the countless tales I read in The Cage.

I've never written a story before...but I've read so many wonderful tales. I should be able to write something of my own.

First, I think about the outline of the story I want to create, and then I put every single turn of events into words.

The letters I make swim through the air, drifting like music, blooming like flowers. The letters dancing through the air eventually form sentences.

I firmly and carefully bind the letters together so that they will not come apart or break. I breathe life into everything — I give them history, I give them meaning, and I create my story.

It's a tale of a lone girl facing hardship. I was inspired by a story of a girl that I read a long time ago on the lunar base.

When my piece is finally finished, I bind it together as a book and place it on the empty shelf. And then —

"Huh!?"

A strange light gleams before me, and despite myself, I raise my voice. A light spills from the book I'd just put on the shelf. It's a warm light. The light spreads, envelops me, and takes on the shape of a person. And eventually, it shows itself to be a girl.

Her lips are drawn into a thin, firm line.
She stares at me silently.

A human? I didn't think I could make humans.
But here she stands, right in front of me.

"Did you...come from the story?" I ask with hesitation. She looks exactly like the main character of my story.

"I...don't...know..."

"Ah!" I have a little eureka moment when I hear her trembling voice.

Hold on a sec. I just made life, didn't I! Go, me! Am I a god!?

"Hey. Can you tell me about yourself?"

I try to hold back my excitement — I don't want to shock her. But despite my best efforts, I bombard her with a deluge of questions.

"Can you tell me your name?"
"Do you have any memories?"
"Do you know who I am?"

But...

"Ah... Ah... Aaah..."

Suddenly, the girl morphs into a lump of what looks like black jelly. I exclaim in surprise, step back, and the girl's body vanishes in a sudden burst.

What does it mean? I can't even begin to say. Did she die...? Maybe she was never alive to begin with. I look at her goopy remains, and my shoulders droop.

I don't understand why she vanished.
But...I have a hunch.

It must be because I didn't write the story very well.

I stare at the floor for a few moments, but I quickly pull myself together and think more positively.

I don't have time to be upset about this. I simply have to write an even better story next time. And if I keep at it, then maybe one day I'll have another friend of my own. Like the brother and sister I traveled with in The Cage... Someone I'd be proud to call my friend.

Enormous babies appeared in the digital space connecting Earth and the moon. Even as they consumed me, I held strong to my desire to live.

After quite some time, my wish came true. I managed to restore my consciousness data in this virtual space.

I gained the power to create objects here. I created a space out of the nothingness, and I built a town to live in, but...something was missing.

After considerable thought, I created a library without books. I decided to write stories to fill the empty shelves personally. It'd be nice if these stories could be my friends, I thought.

And when I finished writing the first story, the main character materialized and appeared before me.

Aren't I incredible? I was overjoyed, but my elation only lasted a moment—the main character vanished in a blink.

That was...unfortunate. She wouldn't have disappeared had I been able to write a better story.

She could have kept me company in this empty space.

I wish I had friends.

They don't have to do anything special. I'd be content just sharing breakfast together. Just like Pod, back on the lunar base...

After that, I begin to write frantically. But after countless books, I still haven't created anything I'm satisfied with.

Something is missing, but I don't know what.

What I'm doing over and over again isn't creating stories. Rather, I'm simply copying the facade of the memories in the weapons that I read so long ago on the lunar base.

Does this mean I have no talent?

I place another good-for-nothing book on the shelf as I feel the irritation build in me. As I do, one of the books from the stuffed shelf falls and hits me on the head.

It's just one thing after another, isn't it?
My frustration explodes.

"Ugh!"

I spent so many days in the base reading weapon memories...
I thought I could put that experience to good use.
I thought I could write nice stories too.

I have no outlet for what I feel toward my incapable self. I lend myself to my anger and furiously write new stories. All I do is write more and more botched stories, stuffing them one after another on the shelves.

One day, I find one of the books on the shelves emitting a bright light.

"Oh!"

I'm almost embarrassed by how delighted I sound. I recognize that light... That's the signal that one of the characters from the story is about to appear.

A friend was finally coming to life! Or so I thought.

"Huh?"

The light grows dimmer and muddier, and a dark aberration appears before me — an enemy I had seen so many times before in The Cage.

It stands there, staring blankly down at me.
Its eyes are empty — I can't tell if it's dead or alive.

"Just great."

I immediately form a sword in my hands.
Who knows how long it's been since I've held a weapon, but I'll just have to manage somehow.

But my attacks don't work on the enemy.
If anything, whenever my blade makes contact with it, it only swells larger.

"I don't get it!"

Its enormous body shivers and it begins to thrash about. Countless books fall from the shelves, and shredded pieces of paper flutter through the air like snow. It destroys the floor, the ceiling, the bookshelves, the library. It breaks my town, my sky, my sea. It shatters everything without mercy.

Like water seeping from a broken vessel, I watch as the world I created vanishes into nothing.

My attacks aren't enough to stop the enemy.
I'm out of ideas.

There's an old human saying: "She who runs away may live to fight another day." So, I escape the world I created.

I escape to a place outside of my world.
I float through the empty nothingness and think to myself.

Man. The world I worked so hard to create was taken from me by an enemy I created myself... But it's fine, I guess. All I have to do is create a new home. Then I'll write a new story.

I heave a sigh and look behind me — I can see my world breaking apart.

A gleaming white, shattering star.

The world... The world I created.
It resembles something familiar to me.

Oh, that's right. The moon. Long ago, Pod and I spent all our time on that little satellite. Pod said that when you look up to the night sky from Earth, you can see parts of the moon gleaming white.

Glitches and corruption eat away at the world I created as it darkens. I'm sure the enemy is still rampaging, making a whole mess of my town, my library, my books — everything....

You know what? I don't have to put up with this.

I tighten my grip on my sword.

I can't bear seeing my world — all the stories I wrote — be destroyed.

Because that world — those stories — came into being all because of the weapon memories that Pod and I once worked so hard to protect.

No matter how shoddy they are, I could never abandon them.

My impulses push me forward, and I turn back to my world.

The enemy still rampages. It throws its massive, darkened form around haphazardly and wreaks havoc.

The reason the enemy was born — or rather, the reason it failed to live — must be because I was writing in anger. Because all I wanted to do was write well, so I ignored everything I truly wanted to write about — my pain, my sadness, my kindness, my pain...

I hadn't been able to give the poor thing life.
And now it's an empty monster.

I know what to do. I have to rewrite its story.

I brush my fingers through the air.
Words dance through the ruins of the virtual city.

The words become pictures, become sound, and begin to weave together a tale. A tale about myself, a tale I want to tell someone, leave with someone.

I write my story alone. But these are words I could never have known if not for my solitude. Love from a parent to their child — words Pod taught me. That is what I truly wanted to write. I finally understand now.

All right. That should do it.

I don't know if it's a good story, but I think I've written what I want to say.

Once I rewrite the story, the enemy freezes in place as though bound. And then, it whispers in a sob:

"I want to live."

The desire to live. That is everything I am — what Pod gave me at the very end. And I, too, have passed it on to this child.

"Don't worry. You have a life of your own now."

The child falters and collapses. I take its hand. Though it still looks like the enemy, there's an undeniable warmth in its hand.

At last, a gentle light envelops it.
And from the light appears a girl.

The girl looks exactly like me, and she wears a white dress.

As I watch her clothes flutter, I think of Pod — of Mama.

Enormous babies destroyed the virtual world.
And so, I created a new world in its place.

But I was alone. No matter what I created, I was by myself.
So, I decided to write stories.

I wanted stories to be my friends, like how the weapon memories soothed my loneliness on the moon base so long ago.

But it didn't really go all that well — what I created were stories with no feeling behind them at all.

I guess that would explain why the main character of the story manifested as a dark aberration and destroyed the world I'd created. But it's fine. I told the characters in the story what was most important to me. I managed to incorporate the love Pod gave me into the tales.

"I want to live," the dark foe whispered, then transformed into a girl who looked just like me.

I want to live.

Her wish is the same as mine.
That desire is passed down to the next generation, like a child inheriting her mother's genes.

Maybe data... Maybe consciousness can continue existing so long as it has the desire to keep living, just as my own data found life again after destruction.

There's me, and there's the girl born from the story I wrote. If I trace the lines of our existence back, we were both brought to life by Pod's love. As we spend eternity together, we begin to consider one another dear.

We eat breakfast together and play chess together in our own dull little world. We chat as I write new stories, and we snuggle under the blankets at night.

She grows rather belligerent at some point. All she does is complain and fling insults. She tells me she's sick of coffee and toast. She asks me if there's any point in playing chess.

And I can't help but meddle in turn. I always end up lecturing her when I don't need to, and so our arguments are endless.

But it's when she reads my stories that her eyes sparkle, and she truly seems happy.

Fairy tales of worlds ruled by dragons and magic.
Spooky little horror stories.
Tales of boys who cross the galaxy.
She loves them all.

One day, I sense a change in my world.
Someone is trying to gouge a hole in it.

I made this world. I won't let abnormalities slip me by.
I immediately make my way to where I sense it happening.

There, at the far end of the world, where it meets nothingness, I find the girl. She deceived me and is attempting to leave this world.

"Don't do this," I say to her. "It's dangerous out there."

I urge her to stop. Those enormous babies might still be out there. Enemies I've never known might be out there.

I want to leave too.
I want nothing more than to go back to Mama.

But I don't want her to get hurt. This is a safe world, one where she'll never know pain. I want her to grow up happy.

So, at least for now, we have to stay here together.

She disagrees.

"I want freedom. I want to live by my own will, like the characters in the stories you read me," she says.

Well...I guess this was inevitable. I have to acknowledge my defeat. Frankly, I expected to find her here, and I had a hunch about her objectives.

She's like me, after all.
And right now, I'm like how Pod once was.

Long ago, I had been trapped in a small, boring world, and I couldn't help but seek the truth. Pod was the one who tried to stop me.

It was Pod who lost back then. I can't stop the will of one who acts on her convictions. I simply can't.

And I'm familiar with the sadness born of someone precious betraying your feelings. So I know full well...I can't do any more to stop her.

"You're...coming with me, right?"

She takes my hand. I nod, and we step outside the world — into the vast, digital void.

I look back to see the world I created sitting clearly within the darkness.

As we move farther and farther away, the memories of the tales I created and the recollection of the time I spent with the girl blur, melting into the darkness.

"It's so far away now..." she murmurs.
There's a faint sadness in her expression.

Suddenly, noise rips through her body.
A drop of static rolls down her cheek like a tear.

"Huh...?"

Before I realize it, the static envelops her. At the same time, I begin to see the world I created falling apart in the distance.

Dark static swallows it — my bright, gleaming star.

As I watch, a memory comes to me — one of parting, when I watched the eclipse after seeing off my friends from The Cage.

"Why!?"

The static grows louder, bolder.
But...I think I know what's happening.

I think the farther I get from the world I created, from the origin point, my creations cannot hold their form. I had a feeling this might happen, but I'd decided not to think about it.

Long ago, when the girl was born as a dark aberration, I escaped her rampage by leaving the world. I watched as it broke apart in destruction.

I assumed that was because she had lost control, but I was wrong — it was because I'd attempted to leave that world. My own creation broke apart. This world, these stories, are a mirror that replicated me.

If I'm gone from that space, then everything I've created — the town, the library, the books — will fall apart. And that means...at this rate, I will lose the friend whose hand I hold now too.

It's a bummer, but...I guess I just have to be ready for the inevitable.

I let go of her hand. I cut my connection to the world I've been chasing this whole time.

"I entrust everything to you," I say.

I fill the bewildered girl with copies of my consciousness data — all of my memories of the life I led as 10H are hers now.

Her white dress stains black, and she becomes an exact copy of me. As she fades into the distance, she desperately reaches for my hand.

"It's okay!
I haven't let go of the memories we shared together!"

I wave, and I call to her vanishing form once more.

"Goodbye!"

To be honest, I don't even feel like shouting so loudly and energetically. But I'd feel bad for her if I made this parting any sadder than it already is.

"...I'll find you again."

But I think she understands how I feel.
She doesn't reach out to me anymore.

"If you find Mama, tell her I said hi!"

"Okay! I will."

"You were my best..."

"......"

Her form shrinks into the distance.

"...I had so much fun, you know."

And then, my lone friend sets off on a journey to a place far, far away.

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Endless silence. Eternal hours of solitude.

After seeing off the one friend I created with my own hands, I returned to my lonely world once more.

Now, I have the power to create everything. I have a god-like power, the sort humans once worshiped, to breathe life into the characters of the stories I create.

But I never make myself a new friend.
There's nothing else I need to create.

I have given all of my most cherished things to my friend, who ventured off into the far distance. Because for her, this world — her beginning — is my end.

All that's left in me is loneliness and my adoration for my friend.

I live on alone for her sake alone. And strangely, I do not feel loneliness.

Because I know that the girl who has set off, carrying my hopes and dreams, will eventually meet all sorts of people.

Snow falls in the virtual sky.
The ruined city is blanketed in white.

The sky splits, the seas dry, and cities become mountains of rubble. My creations shattered when we left this world together. It's probably about time to fix it up, but... I want to keep things like this for just a little longer.

I know it's a bit sentimental, but I want to maintain the place where we were together for as long as I can.

In the gaps of snow-covered rubble, I sit down on a chair in front of a white cart and begin my breakfast.

I put way too much butter on my toast. I pour myself a coffee more reminiscent of a sickly sweet sludge.

And then, I look at the empty seat opposite me.

My breakfast is quiet, boring, and solitary.
But it's always during these moments that I feel I'm crossing paths with those two.

I always hear their voices nagging in my head — a friend who laughs, "You always use too much butter;" Mama who scolds, "Excessive sugar is poison for the body."

Well...today, I live on, as I've done in the days before.
To keep the flame of love, given to me by Mama and my friend, burning bright.

10H... Unlike the others, you weren't originally meant to leave any records behind. You're an android, after all. You're not what we're meant to be reviving — you're not human. But you are, without a doubt in my mind, a dear child of mine.

Neither your chassis nor mine will return to Earth, like human bodies do. Together, we've done all we can to protect the planet for the sake of humanity. But unfortunately, Earth will never take us into her.

But, you see, it's because we will never reconcile that we had our own home on the moon — the lunar base. The celestial body closest to heaven, one that will never meet with Earth, one that floats ephemeral like foam. Proof that we both existed will be forever etched onto the moon.

We fought daily, and you seldom listened to what I had to say, but...you were truly so sensitive and thoughtful. You were smarter than anyone else I'd ever known, and deep down, you were very kind. When I die one day, I will be your grave marker and leave everything here.

----------

"We're finally done collecting everything..."

"This is the last of the evaluation records of the people in The Cage that the Mamas made."

And it is likely the last of the hidden stories.

Hidden Stories... They first came about a few years ago, didn't they? Data that should have been stored in The Cage had been quietly locked and altered to be inaccessible even to the Mamas.

So that's why I've been busy running around The Cage, undoing the shell-like locks, and spending a great deal of time restoring a mountain of data. Frankly, I didn't think there would be so many... I'm exhausted.

But I have a few reasons for working so hard on their restoration. Publishing and re-reading hidden stories is nice, of course. But if those were the only reasons, I wouldn't have lasted as long as I did.

To be honest, the reason Mama's been able to work so hard for so long is because of who locked all this data in the first place.

I always got an inkling when I undid these locks, the faintest fragrance of a girl I spent many long years and months with.

That's right. All those hidden stories? I'm pretty sure it was 10H's little prank. But before I could get proof and make her confess, she was already gone... So...

So, it was a lot of fun. We know she's gone, of course.
But whenever we righted the little pranks she left behind, it always felt like she was nearby. I swear I could hear that carefree laugh of hers.

But this, too, is over. We've rectified her final prank now, and...I can't let my memories of her hold me back forever.

I think it's about time I lock this all away in my heart as quiet memories.

10H... It was so much fun right up to the end.





"Hmm?"

But hold on a moment. This record would have been left behind after we lost 10H.

Then...who was responsible for this? Not to mention, the actual volume of this data is a bit higher than the typical estimate.

Didn't this happen before? There was once a packet of data that held an unusually high volume. Hmm... Which one was that, again? If only I could remember where that was, I could analyze this...

06081136, Earth - City Ruins.

Long ago, an unknown disease overran humanity, and they went extinct. Skip ahead a little, and machine lifeforms then invaded the empty planet. We YoRHa fight tooth and nail day after day to take Earth back. Well, they do, at any rate.

"This is so stupid... Why do I have to work so hard for people I've never met?"

I look up to the sky, disregarding my colleagues as they carry out their assigned missions. I take a deep breath, sweet air filling me. The air was once polluted, they say, but it cleared up once humanity bit it.

I stand staring at the sky for a while, and a glittering bead of light falls to my nose. It's rain. My oblivious colleagues continue their work.

"I don't want to get wet... Oh, right!
That thing I picked up!"

The umbrella. A relic of humanity. I open it and wait for my endless hours of boredom to pass.

"Alert: I thought I told you to be careful when performing pipework." Pod scolds me as she bandages my hand.

I scalded myself while I was inspecting the base — I came into contact with some of the steam going through the pipes.

"Gratitude: But I'm very proud of you for working so hard despite being reassigned here for poor behavior."

My enthusiasm delights her. I puff up my cheeks. I mean, this base bores the heck out of me. It's not like there's much to do here besides work.

"Alert: However! You must always remain diligent and focused when working!"

"Ugh, yeah, I know. I'll be fine. And — "

You're so old fashioned for bandaging an android, I think, but decide to keep to myself. Pod probably knows that already, so whatever. At least I'll be able to skip out on working for a bit. If I'm going to be bored either way, I guess I'd rather be doing nothing at all. So, in that case...sure, might as well just take the bandage. I'll think of it as a placebo.

Red chassis Pods draw nearer, their red lights glinting menacingly. I'm at the end of my rope. I run through the halls of the lunar base. The other girls have lost their minds and control — I evade them.

"Report: 10H... D... Do... Do n0t run fRom h0me..."

"Shut up! You sound like a broken radio!"

I ward off the Pods' attacks, and I throw a fist into one with all my might.

"Report: Report: Rep0rt: REp0Rt:
RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR"

On the far side of the airlock, I grab the handle to the door leading to the outside of the base. The handle is hot — a clear indication that passing this threshold is off-limits — and my hand stings as it burns.

"For crying out loud, what is this, Pod!?"

The girl who bandaged me is gone now.
But I can't let grief weigh me down.
I have to get out of here.
For humanity's sake.
For...the promise I made with Pod.

I was embarrassed, as though waking from a dream with other people in the room. The virus infected my logic circuits, and emotions I thought I'd kept buried deep ended up on full display to the brother and sister pair.

But they accepted me without a second thought.
They were the first friends I ever had, and I will never forget them.

"Thank you, both of you. I..."

I attempted to stand and offer my gratitude, but I'd just recovered. My body faltered and staggered.

"Are you okay?"

They'd offered me a hand then too. But I wasn't used to the warmth...so I didn't take their hands. All I could do was try to hide my embarrassment. But thinking back on it, I wish I'd taken them. Thank you.

“What are you writing about now?"

The girl beside me takes my hand. An idea for a new story came to me, so I started writing it. Having been outside for a long time, my hands started to numb. But slowly, they warm.

"Hmm... I think that's still a secret."

The girl pouts and looks away in a huff. But the theme of this story is our relationship. I want to keep that much a secret until it's done. But then, white crystals begin to fall from the sky as though betraying my hesitation.

"Oh, it's snowing..."

The pout on her face eases, and she raises her umbrella to open it. But in my right hand I write, and in my left hand I have a warm connection with her. This is my everything right now. I don't have a free hand to open an umbrella. So...please, for just a little longer, I want to stay connected.

"All right, let's leave our review there for today."

"Okay."

"Sure."

"Good idea."

"When's the next one?"

"Not a problem."

"Um, if I may?"

"Yes? What is it?"

"So I understand she gave her life for revenge, but that wasn't all it was about."

"Go on. Please. I'd love to hear your thoughts."

"Well, a lot of people passed through her life."

"That's true. Her record is much longer than most, making analysis difficult."

"And of course, she made mistakes along the way. But she slowly grew because of it."

"Precisely. But let's leave our judgments until we watch to the end of the record."

"But we're the only ones who can watch over her journey."

"Thank you for pointing this out. We need to take this seriously or ■■■■■■

ERROR: INSUFFICIENT MEMORY

"Thank you for the valuable pointers. I really need to buckle down and work harder!"


3/12024: DATA OVERLOAD ERROR RECTIFIED
ADDITIONAL INFORMATION REGARDING ANALYZED DATA
("FRAGMENT OF SALVATION") APPENDED
ALERT: CARRY OUT CHECKS AFTER OBTAINING CLEARANCE FOR
"FRAGMENT OF SALVATION"

















e58f8b: Could this be...inside the hunter's record?
e58f8b: I'm sorry. I guess I used you as a stepping stone for my hacking.
e58f8b: You're...Mama, right? Are you watching me?

e58f8b: She told me about her little prank, so I followed the clues here.
e58f8b: I'm her, uh... Well, I'm not sure what to call myself.
e58f8b: Either way, I was born from her, and now here I am.
e58f8b: But apparently, I'm not much more than scraps of data here.

e58f8b: So please, Mama. Take me to The Cage!