Tales from the Backstage - Starstruck Flatmates

September 2067. The life of I.N.A.B.A.'s manager, Todd McGilligan, was already hard - yet, somehow, it suddenly became harder. Taking care of a psychopathic robotic pop-star is one thing. Taking care of two of them, though?

“See you very very soon and keep! On! DREA…!”

The picture on the TV faded in a bunch of digital static, eating up the last word before it could be uttered completely. A bunch of other displays around were still in working order (for how long, though, he couldn’t say), but were tuned on different streams or channels. Todd let out a sigh, as he lifted his heavy bags once more. It had been a momentary respite from his endeavor, a little pause he sorely needed to let his muscles rest, if only for a minute or two. Gunther Grohmer’s “Cathodic Supremacy”, the store he was standing in front of right now, was one of the last bastions of civilization that still sold second-hand digital and analog devices – devices that shared the bad habit of switching off or breaking up at the least desirable moment, such as in the middle of the new Nanami promo. Todd had seen it a couple times already and had been seriously impressed by her stunt. In the short video, MIRAI Nanami wore a new outfit, had a new body (literally the same but different), and talked with a new, more energetic voice. Tonethorn Records was throwing away so much money to take the industry by storm. They were willing to go all-in with a massive multimedia campaign, in light of the Big One, the joint I.N.A.B.A.-Nanami concert quickly approaching in October. On his side, Todd had organized things in a slightly – very slightly – different way: The extent of I.N.A.B.A.’s marketing campaign had been sharing a social media post where she sang using a defective, cheap sex toy as a vibrating microphone, while hugging a Nanami body pillow and vocalizing the refrain of her latest hit, Little Charred Bags of Money, but with altered lyrics that made fun of Nanami. The post went viral in ten minutes, breaking ten million visualizations in record time. Simple yet effective, if he said so himself.

Suddenly, the defective TV let out a spark, smoke started pouring out of it, invading the shop window. As Gunther Grohmer stepped out of his dilapidated store, cursing in Italian with a heavy German accent, Todd simply nodded at him and started walking again, dragging his plastic bags on the asphalt with a considerable effort. His shirt was sweaty, under the jacket, even a little crumpled. He wasn’t built for carrying weights and was painfully aware of that. Yet, there he was, pulling the handles up the dirty staircase, slaloming through dog turds, vomited chicken drumsticks and general leftover trash. If that wasn’t enough, his somewhat heavy clothing made it even more difficult for him to move around. Autumn had come in full force knocking at his door, even in the comfortable temperate climate of central Italy. Spring couldn’t come soon enough again.

The walls were staring at him silently, with those crude, half smeared graffiti scattered everywhere, constellated by various obscenities. The stenciled profile of a bunny smoking a blunt was triumphantly towering over the main entrance of the building, among cracked windows and doors fixed with wavy sheet metal. He stopped for an instant to catch his breath, peeking at the trinkets he had been tasked to retrieve. Two canisters of lubricant and motor oil, artificial skin care products, a bunch of screws, various electrical connectors and an industrial-sized battery charger – one that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a discolored picture from a Soviet research institute. Those things weighed a lot, much more than a scrawny man like him could muster. Yet, Ina was adamant that he had to deal with it.

“> You cannot expect me to do your work, meatsack. My face is known and I want to avoid my fans like rabies.”

She had underlined fans with her monotone voice by suddenly pitch-shifting it. More than fans, those pesky Inabutts were a giant pain in the ass – absolute degenerates that would fawn over pictures of her mechanical feet, start discussing on the internet about that time a costume malfunction flashed one of her featureless mechanical breasts or even buy her autographed buttplugs for obscene amounts of money. Unfortunately for both of them, those walking bags of cash were their biggest source of income, income they eagerly welcomed with gleeful greed. It was true that Ina printed money, but money was never enough, especially not for their long term plans. Most of what they harvested till then had been already invested in some safe, guaranteed funds that were yielding a good five percent profit per year, future-proofing their investment against inflation. That had the side effect of leaving only a meager monthly allowance for both of them. They could easily have lived in luxury, if they wanted. Yet, they had decided that renting a dilapidated flat at the outskirts of Esperia was a decent cost-cutting measure, which had the additional boon of not being an easily spottable target for anyone who wanted to zero on her location. Who would have thought that someone as famous as I.N.A.B.A. was living in a hellhole less than eighty square meters wide, together with her manager no less?

Every cent spent is a cent not invested.

Todd’s philosophy had been contagious and ended up shaping their partnership from the get go, with the end result of seeing their bank account engorging at the cost of living in substandard conditions, albeit temporarily. And, fortunately for them, the neighbors were either very discreet or junkies that couldn’t distinguish reality from yet another acid trip.

“Oh, oh, Mr. McGilligan! You bought many groceries today, yes? Waiting for guests?”

Discreet or junkies. All except her, the old lady at the ground floor. Todd rolled his eyes, ground his pointy shark-like teeth against one another. That lady, whose name he couldn’t even begin to remember, was nothing more than an annoyance. Half-deaf too, but nosy in a way only bored people with nothing going on in their dull lives could be. Playing coy was his best bet, together with a convincing white lie. Spoken in broken Italian, as tradition wanted.

“No groceries, just… just some mechanical components. Gotta help my old man fix his car, next week.”

The old lady smiled, waved her hand at him.

“Aaaah, such a dedicated son! Your parents educated you well, Mr. McGilligan!”

He nodded. Living in Italy had been challenging, but he was slowly starting to pick up the language. Understanding it wasn’t a problem anymore. Speaking it, however, was still an issue. Non-verbal communication was his best friend, all things considered.

“Thank you, signora mia. Now, if you excuse me…”

“Oh! Oh! One more thing, Mr. McGilligan! I could hear your girlfriend’s voice through the walls last night, she was so loud! You youngsters, always enjoying your life at its fullest, yes? Ah, I’m so jealous.”

Of course she had completely misunderstood the situation. Of course. Todd gritted his teeth, as he took a mental note to tell a couple things to that disastrous flatmate of his. Or, rather, flatmates, plural. He resigned himself not to clear the misunderstanding and, instead, to head to the third floor, where his hovel waited for him. Step after step, he dragged the heavy bags behind him, swearing every centimeter more, until he reached the landing in front of the door. A door which was a patchwork of different wood panels, bolted and nailed together to hide cracks and offer a modicum of protection from the cold and the drafts. He heard a ringing sound from his pocket. A new message to his phone. He blinked as a reflex, as blood flowed towards his cheeks. It could be him. He promised he would send something. He gulped down his saliva, anxiously thinking about the moment he could check his device. With both hands occupied, though, he had at least to wait until entering his flat. Todd left the plastic bags fall onto the tiles, drawing a sigh of relief. He would have had time later, in the comfort of his small room, far from a certain curious robotic bunny. He stared at the doorbell, the one marked with a washed out “McGilligan” label. Then, he knocked at the door, three times in a row.

Only for a short figure to open it, gazing at him with curious amber eyes, partly covered by long, straight red-orange hair. Said figure sported a crack on her left cheek, a crack that revealed a mechanical endoskeleton, under her pale skin. She was wearing modest clothing, just a pullover and cotton trousers with very muted colors, somehow contrasting her peculiar appearance.

“Oh, hi Todd. Back already?”

Her voice was soft, somehow melancholic. Todd had not managed to get accustomed to it yet, as it was very different from Ina’s. He nodded somewhat awkwardly, then he started mumbling something that resembled an answer – an answer that died before even being born, as a second, more monotone voice interrupted him.

“> Stop talking with that meatsack and come back here! We have to play the last round!”

“Come on, Ina! you’re gonna lose either way!”

Todd leaned on the plaster, let his head rest on the wall as his voice turned into incomprehensible gibberish. That wasn’t how he expected things to go, back in New Langdon. Having to babysit not one, but two depressed robot pop stars wasn’t on his 2067 bingo card. No, that wasn’t an accurate description of the situation – his reality was even worse, if possible. That was only the beginning of his woes. Woes that started, all of a sudden, not even two months before, in a late British summer afternoon.

**

“> She’s hiding something, I tell you, Todd.”

Todd couldn’t help but smirk at the sight of I.N.A.B.A., wrapped in a scarf and cap that were obviously meant to disguise her, but failed to account for her very conspicuous rabbit ears and flashy robot eyes. If that was her idea of stealth, it was good that she wasn’t a military robot. She would have probably been found smashed amidst some ruins, maybe even with an arm ripped and her head squashed like a watermelon. But no, Ina was confident that was enough to disguise herself and he wasn’t paid enough to break her delusions. Yet, there they were, peeking from a corner in the direction of a tall blond woman wearing an elegant dress, closely following a shorter girl, with orange-red hair arranged in a long ponytail. Said girl had a shining star tattoo on her left cheek and exuded energy at each of her steps. Said girl was Ina’s biggest competitor – Combat Idol MIRAI Nanami.

“Look! Look, Anna-Anna! Look at this cod! It’s so colorful!”

“It’s dead, Nanami. Dead. This is a fishmonger, not an aquarium.”

“Oh, but it can beautiful even if it’s dead, right?”

Todd couldn’t believe what they were doing – spending a Sunday afternoon tailing a robot singer and her manager in New Langdon (yes, that New Langdon), where said singer was going to perform in her next concert. Ina could have let it slide, but no. She had become strangely obsessed with her, with that Nanami that was consistently ranking at number two behind her. If anything, her interest had become somewhat pathologic, since the moment she found out about the joint concert in October. Todd didn’t believe it was such a big deal for her, but apparently it was. When she got wind of the event before he could explain how he organized it unbeknownst to her, she almost smashed his head with a hammer. Almost. She had been happy enough to squash one of his fingers instead, which caused Todd a couple weeks of woes and a cast around his twisted phalanxes. He had never seen her that furious, almost like a murderous, rampaging killer robot. To make himself forgiven, he had to promise her to second her weird request – said request being we tail her together before her next concert, because she looks suspicious. He was still puzzled about how such a joyful ray of sunshine could be suspicious, but Ina was Ina and saying no was dangerous for his health. So, there they were, following her and her manager – that jackal on heels of Annapurna Wagner – around the crowded streets of New Langdon. If anything, it had been a good change of pace and definitely preferable to watching Ina rolling on the floor while curled like a ball and yelling “> How cute! So cute! She cannot be this cute! That’s illegal! Why I’m not as cute as her? Why, Todd?” over and over and over in their flat in Esperia. That had been extremely embarrassing and unexpected. Todd couldn’t make heads or tails of it, so he just gave up trying. After all, Ina was a collection of contradictions.

“> They’re moving. Quick, follow me!”

She took him out of his trance, dragging him behind her, stepping right in front of the smelly banks of fish, exposed among innumerable ice cubes. Yet, her stride was short lived, as she bumped into a mountain of a man, whose pecs were wide enough to be classified as a cupboard.

“Hey, fellas! Wanna buy somethin’? We got the beeest fish in the city!”

Todd and I.N.A.B.A. looked up together, relatively puzzled, until they met the gaze of what looked like a great white shark, grinning at them with his uncountably many sharp teeth.

“This cod’s fresh outta the sea! Aaaaand it’s on sale, see?”

I.N.A.B.A. would have blinked rapidly, if her lidless eyes allowed for it. That face. That face was unmistakably his face, a face that haunted her memories, a face seen on a tape that she had run through her brain billions of times. She gazed at him blankly, quickly evaluating all of her possibilities. Only to settle for a classic, an instinctive reflex she couldn’t really justify. She raised her right arm at a thirty-degrees angle, perfectly straight, bent her left arm, tilted her head down, burying it in her sleeve.

“> Go back to your stinky hole, abyss-dweller. You are dead sushi, if you stand in my way.”

Todd’s face, instead, simply lost color. He waved his hands in front of the sharkman, trying to defuse the situation.

“P… please, pardon me, good sir! Ina’s a little… huh, not that accustomed to seeing sharkmen! She meant no harm, really!”

What happened next, though, took him by complete surprise. The sharkman. That burly, majestic specimen of sharkman standing in front of him was laughing. Laughing from the bottom of his heart.

“Yer little bunny robot dabs and swears like a champ, huh? You be an Inabutt, I take it? That replica is heeeella convincing! Must have cost big bucks!”

Then, he slapped Todd on his shoulder, with his gigantic hand.

“Imma Nanamer, yes? Can’t stand Inabutts, but ya kno’ what? Imma super happy I’ve met her just now! See, right there! Yes?”

Not far from there, Annapurna Wagner was still discussing with Nanami, both of them being oblivious to the finger of the sharkman pointing at them. Said sharkman took out his phone from his pocket, proudly showing it to Todd and his replica bunny robot. There was a picture there, a picture of the diminutive Nanami riding on the shark’s shoulders, as both of them posed in her trademark star-stream-salute.

“Doesn’t happen every day to meet yer heroine, I tell ya, pal! Gotta treasure those moments!”

Todd didn’t know what to say, except that he found that picture cute – even if not for the reasons the sharkman expected. He even let out a nervous smile, not really knowing what got a hold of him. A smile that revealed his most hidden trait to the curious, larger-than-life sharkman that was grinning at him.

“Hey pal, you have shark teeth too, huh? That’s heeeeeella weird!”

“What? Ah, huh, y… yes!”

The latest fad for children, when he was born. Shark teeth, guaranteed to never fall without being automatically replaced – something he had never forgiven his parents for. It was too easy for his schoolmates to label him Todd the shark. He hated it, from the bottom of his heart.

“Ivva never seen a man with those, but boy! They suit ya! Ya look like a predator, yes?”

“Thanks I… huh, guess.”

“> We’re losing them, meatsack! Stop wasting time with the fish and run!”

Before he could realize what was happening, a mechanical hand grabbed his jacket, pulling him down with an unexpected display of strength, causing him to lose his balance and begin to tumble. In a desperate attempt to keep his feet steady on the ground, Todd tried to grasp the nearest thing he could – the nearest thing being the sharkman in front of him. I.N.A.B.A. herself got caught by the unexpected show of resistance, fell on the pavement with a loud scream, followed by Todd and finally by the yelling sharkman, in a pile of metal and flesh that collapsed with a resounding thud.

“> I hate you! I hate you! I’m going to make you all perish, meatsacks! I’ll purge this world from your useless hides! Goddammit! Goddammit! Goddammit!”

When Todd opened his eyes, he was leaning on the robotic body of his partner in crime, while a confused and puzzled sharkman was leaning on him in turn, almost crushing his scrawny body between a rock and a hard place – that was somehow getting harder, as the pressure mounted on.

“Huuuuh, pal? All right with ya? Ain’t this the wrong moment for this?”

“What? No! I…”

Todd sighed deeply, as he realized how compromising that situation looked like to an outside observer, with the burly body of the sharkman leaning completely on his, their mouths almost touching. It couldn’t go worse, could it?

“Oh, look if it isn’t Mr. McGilligan. I didn’t expect you to be swinging that way.”

Hazel eyes. Blond hair. A beauty mark. An elegant dress.

Annapurna Wagner was looking at him from her vantage point, with a sarcastic grin no less. Todd closed his eyes, as he started to whimper.

It could, in fact, go worse. Way, way, way worse.

**

Todd left the bags near the entrance, closed the door behind him, locked it too as quickly as possible, while wrestling with the bag handles. The girl that welcomed him reached for him, for the bigger of the two bags.

“Let me help you.”

“No, wait! It’s too heavy for…”

She grabbed it without a second thought, lifted it as if it weighed nothing. Causing Todd’s jaw to drop in consternation. His mind started racing, until he found the right piece of trivia. Military specs. Right. That thing had military specs. She could snap him and Ina like a twig, if she wanted to. Good thing that didn’t seem her highest priority, at least for the moment.

“> What’s keeping you this long? Tick, tock, tick, tock! I’m gonna unpause it and win by default!”

A grave sigh responded to those monotone words filled with digital vitriol. The girl patted on Todd’s black hair, before cracking a sort of timid smile.

“I’m sorry, Todd, but Ina has the patience of a three-years old. Leave the stuff here, I’ll take care of it once I schooled her.”

She raised her gaze for a moment, moving her eyes as if to track something that only she could see.

“I still have around forty percent charge in my main battery. That will do for a while longer.”

That said, she strolled through the corridor, reaching the living room, under the still perplexed gaze of Todd himself. On the other side of the door, I.N.A.B.A. was comfortably sitting on a half-broken sofa, its innards exposed in several points. Todd smiled a little at that sight, taking care of not being noticed. It was quite charming to see a skinless, purple-haired, bunny-eared gynoid with LED squares for eyes and a grid for mouth behaving like a normal human girl, even if only once in a while. She was wearing a pink t-shirt with a picture of two rabbits making love and a pair of shorts, leaving her mechanical arms and legs for show. She was gripping a game pad tightly and started drumming on the buttons with an irregular rhythm, right as the girl from before took her place close to her. Todd looked at the TV screen, with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity, while still wrapped in his heavy jacket and sweating his lungs out. The pictures on the display made little sense to him, but it had to be a sort of video game. Two characters on opposite sides, with colorful bars on top of them. One looked suspiciously like Combat Idol MIRAI Nanami – her first version, at least. The other was what he could only define as a bodybuilder lobsterman with a yellow star hovering on his face and electric sparks flashing all around. As I.N.A.B.A. started pushing buttons, the lobster flailed his arms in an exaggerated motion. Only to be kicked in the nuts by that Nanami-lookalike. Todd couldn’t restrain himself from chuckling, at the sight of the comical reaction of the lobster. Which caused I.N.A.B.A. to growl at him like the text-to-speech version of a mountain lion.

“> Todd, don’t you have anything else to do? Like, I dunno, hanging yourself from the ceiling? We have some rope in the back.”

Right as she said that, she rammed her elbow against her neighbor’s body, hitting her on the side of her ribcage, without any visible reaction. If anything, that made her push her buttons even harder, resulting in the Nanami-lookalike kicking the lobster in the nuts two, three times in a row, before hitting him with a large megaphone. A couple instants later, a huge, fat K.O. message filled the screen. Causing I.N.A.B.A. to almost throw her controller against the wall.

“> You’re cheating! You’re obviously cheating! Why cannot I win with Shocker the Electric Lobster? Isn’t he the best character in this shitty game?”

As Todd realized by the logos sprawled around the victory screen, the shitty game in question was called Schwarzerblitz 2: Flashback – The Game, which sounded suspiciously like a low-quality, cheaply-developed movie tie-in. He didn’t know anything about video games, but that didn’t look exactly like a big production, let alone something intended to be played seriously. Which made I.N.A.B.A.’s rage even more amusing, in hindsight. At that point, the girl sitting at her side started chuckling too, giving her the raspberry.

“Didn’t you ask me to step on you?”

“> YES, I DID! But not like this!”

As I.N.A.B.A. closed her grip around the girl’s neck, trying to strangle her amidst her incessant laughter, Todd heard yet another ringing notification. His phone again. In the excitement of the moment, he had forgotten to check it. He quickly took off his jacket, hanged it near the door, reached for his device. He tapped on the colorful bubble, with a little bit of anticipation. It was truly him. His heart fluttered a little, as he unlocked the display.

“I… huh, need to take care of something, gals. I’ll be back in a minute. Please don’t break each other, alright? We don’t have enough spare parts for both of you!”

That said, he disappeared into his room, leaving the two ravenous devils behind, as they started fighting with two of I.N.A.B.A.’s premium body pillows, totally ignoring him. In the silence of his room, Todd finally sat down on his bed, unfastening his tie and shirt. Dressing elegantly while doing chores had been his stupidest decision ever, but nobody knows where or when an opportunity shows up. As he loosened his composure a bit, he could finally have a good look at what he sent him. Of course, of course the first two messages were quite funny. That dumb moron wasn’t good with phones, but his way of writing was charming. And the picture right after…

Todd’s face went deep crimson, as he gasped for air, as his eyes feasted on the photo, on all its details, as his heart pounded like an industrial jackhammer. He quickly typed a reply, sent it as soon as he could, then typed another message and sent it too, without a second thought, keeping his reactions in check, fighting against the urge to call him right there, right now. He locked his phone again, put it in his pocket, slowly got up from his bed. Were it night, he would have indulged a little longer in contemplating that bonanza, but he still had stuff to deal with – stuff waiting for him in the living room. So, he traded his white shirt for a less formal attire and quietly went back to the battlefield, in the comfort of his slippers, with his heart still fluttering.

The first thing that struck him was the utter silence that seemed to permeate the room. No shouts, no yells, no cries, no noises of stuff breaking or controllers thrown against the wall. He carefully, suspiciously stepped forward, peeking out of the door that lead to the TV corner. Only to spot I.N.A.B.A. still sitting on the cramped sofa, while the other girl was resting her head on her lap, seemingly smiling as the robotic bunny caressed her hair. Todd blinked a couple times. That felt wrong, wrong under every definition of the term. So, there he stood, silently watching the two previously belligerent robots cuddling each other with a care and delicacy he didn’t know was possible for either of them. He rubbed his eyelids a couple times, before accepting that indeed what he was seeing was the truth. I.N.A.B.A. avoided eye contact, as her text-to-speech voice buzzed to life.

“> It’s… it’s not what you think, Todd! We had a simple bet, alright? If she won, she could rest on my lap like this. If I won, she would have had to step on me with her high-heel shoes.”

While saying that, she curled some of the orange-red strands around her finger, gently tracing the profile of the girl’s cheek with her other hand.

“> Turns out she won, so I’m paying my dues.”

“Whatever floats your boat, Ina…”

Todd didn’t comment further. He simply grabbed a can of soda from the small fridge (one of the few functioning appliances in the whole flat) and sat on the stained, ripped carpet with his legs crossed. The TV, freed from the tyranny of the video game, was broadcasting a rerun of a documentary on the Dead Zone. The braided red-haired head of the now-infamous Paddy O’Rilley was filling the screen, as she was showcasing a phage cub in the palm of her hand. To think she loved haemos so much that she had one of them bone her… Todd opened the soda can, with the usual hissing sound, gulped a little of it down. His eyes darted in the direction of the odd duo, with one of the two still resting her head on the other’s lap, making him wonder if he interrupted something. Those thoughts were however washed away by the sudden increase in volume. Advertisement. Of course it was advertisement. He went for the selector to move to another stream. Yet, he wasn’t fast enough.

“Heeeeeey, starry-eyed kids! It’s me, your friendly heroine Combat Idol MIRAI Nanami!”

Nanami’s voice filled the room, blasted at full volume by the speakers. She sported her usual orange ponytail and costume, but her eyes were of a different shade of amber, her voice felt sweeter too. Silence fell on the sofa, as I.N.A.B.A.’s fingers stopped moving, as the other girl gritted her teeth.

“This is my new form, crafted to crush all evildoers! They tried to get rid of me with that explosion, but a true Combat Idol never loses! So… here comes Nanami v2!”

On screen, Nanami performed a curtsy, dancing around like an excited rabbit, pouring energy out of every pore, as her outfit transformed in an even more fashionable, elegant and elaborate version of the original one. Bathed in light, accompanied by the familiar notes of her first single, she pointed her finger at the camera, smiling at her audience.

“See you very very soon and keep! On! DREAMING!”

The ad ended as soon as it started. Yet, something had changed. The joyful banter was gone, replaced by a mantle of silence. Silence broken only by the sobs of an artificial girl, now crying on a robot bunny’s lap.

**

Awkward. There was no other way to describe that situation, if not awkward. Todd had trouble functioning correctly, in that cafe. It was a clean place, sure, welcoming too, but the owner was weird – that guy had no discernible face and was wearing a bright neon green hat. Despite that, he clearly had a wedding ring on his ring finger. So, even freaks like him had a chance at a normal life, huh? That was something he would have never bet a cent on, and yet the last of his current problems. Said current problems were in the shape of a fascinating woman with blond hair and hazel eyes, staring deep into his soul. Annapurna Wagner, Tonethorn’s very own mastiff. Todd gulped down a sip of homemade lemonade, while staring at her, while being stared by her, in a contest that admitted no winner as long as nobody averted their gaze.

“So, the reason why you were tailing us, with a paper-thin disguise everyone and their mother would have seen through was…”

“… that Ina… huh, wanted to know more about Nanami, before the big concert in October. Discreetly. Without being seen.”

“Like a stalker.”

“I wouldn’t use such a loaded word, Ms. Wagner.”

“But I would.”

Todd felt the temperature going down a couple degrees more. It was late August and yet it felt like January to him. She took a sip of her lemonade too. No alcohol for either of them. They both needed a clear mind to deal with that other sly fox sitting at the opposite side of the table. The robots were a distraction too, so they sent them to the karaoke corner, where they were currently singing an impromptu selection of weird songs, evidently trying to one-up each other. Todd found it oddly endearing that Ina’s and Nanami’s first meeting had been in such nice circumstances. They were clearly enjoying themselves and trying their best to make the other look less cool, while simultaneously having a spontaneous concert of sorts (with the delight of the cafe owner, he guessed, since as soon as their voices were heard, flocks of fans stormed the premise just to witness them fighting to the last note). Todd felt relieved. As long as those two kept on singing, Ms. Wagner and he had all the time in the world to settle their differences.

“Besides, Mr. McGilligan, that was just an idle exercise in futility. Your precious money-printing bunny won’t sing with this Nanami.”

Todd squinted his eyes, as his ears started picking the familiar tune of Murder Murder, but sang by the last voice he would have expected to. He grinned, noticing how Ms. Wagner was so focused on their meeting that didn’t realize her precious Nanami was uttering rhymes about a worker robot slaughtering children in a playground. Though, he had to admit that that last statement felt weird.

“This Nanami? I thought Tonethorn made sure there’s just one of her.”

Ms. Wagner shrugged, without even changing expression.

“I take you’re familiar with the mystery of 47-Shishichi.”

“I’ve… heard something, yes.”

Well, more than something. 47-Shishichi was a real urban legend – a gynoid looking almost exactly like Nanami, except for a crack where her trademark star tattoo was, singing about freedom of expression, politically charged themes, and AI rights. There were no high quality videos of any of her performances around, but from what survived or was posted on the net, she seemed to perform almost in the nude (flaunting her doll, featureless anatomy), wearing nothing but spiked collars, platform shoes with high heels and various chain-themed accessories. When Ina got wind of her and listened to some of her songs (especially Silenced, her most famous one, of which some decent recordings actually existed), she reacted in a truly composed, calm and absolutely normal way. That is, rolling on the floor of their flat in Esperia, while curled like a ball and yelling “> Step on me, dommy mommy! Step on me! Step on me! Please, Shishichi, step on me!” over and over and over for two minutes straight. Todd couldn’t tell that to Ms. Wagner, though – too much detail that was better left unsaid. Fortunately, Ms. Wagner seemed content with his evasive answer, as she simply grinned back at him.

“As much as she helps with keeping Nanami’s name on everyone’s mouth, we can’t allow the press to make wild claims such as… them being the same gynoid. First, that’s actually idiotic – Nanami is under our complete control, despite some of her… weird outings. Second, that’s dangerous for our business.”

So dangerous that they felt forced to issue an official press statement to that effect: their stance on the topic was that any rumors concerning Nanami and Shishichi being one and the same were utter nonsense and Shishichi was in no way affiliated with Tonethorn Records. Of course, they would have liked to total her and thrash her in a compactor, if they had the chance to, but that would have caused all the AI activists to get up in arms to save that nuisance. A true damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don’t situation.

“So, you see, Mr. McGilligan, if we want to keep Nanami’s candid aura of innocence, we can’t afford the two of them to look almost exactly the same. A little restyling is required, if you understand what I…”

Suddenly, her eyes went wide open, she punched the table, stood up in a hurry, as the familiar notes of Shining Star Sapphire spread around the venue, but with completely different lyrics. The same as that time. Then, she saw them, defying all her expectations and openly so. Her eyes started burning like wildfires.

“NANAMI! Get away from her, now!”

Todd turned as soon as he noticed her abrupt change in demeanor. His eyes opened widely too, followed by what could have only described as a tremendous burst of genuine laughter. Nanami and I.N.A.B.A., those two scoundrels were standing right on front of one another, in the small karaoke corner, among the loud cheers of their fans.

And they were kissing each other.

On their mouths, no less – or whatever the grid opening on Ina’s face could be defined as. To make matters worse, Ina’s hand was steadily moving on Nanami’s cheek, caressing her star-shaped glowing tattoo, under the horrified gaze of her manager.

“I can’t believe it! She’s the ENEMY! How could you…?”

Ms. Wagner growled like a bear, pumping her fist in the air, shouting from the comfort of her table in the direction of her own protégée. Nanami broke the lip contact stared at her with an air of discomfort, her cheeks going fire red for the embarrassment, her hands waved in front of her in a dismissive gesture.

“S… sorryyyyy! I’m so sorry! That wasn’t intentional, I swear Anna-Anna! I swear!”

“> It was a mistake! We just got too close and we accidentally kissed. No homo. Absolutely no homo. No homo, really!”

It was I.N.A.B.A.’s time to interject. Todd was still laughing, fighting with himself to try and regain a bit of composure – unsuccessfully. The pitch of her plain voice shifted uncontrollably when she added those words at the end, almost as if she didn’t believe them at all and had to reassure herself. He wiped away his tears, finally managed to catch his breath. It was then that Nanami nodded vigorously, bringing the mic to her lips and talking to all the people assembled.

“Y… yeah, right? Combat Idol MIRAI Nanami loves all her fans equally! I won’t ever betray any of you by looking for a partner! There’s no chance I’ll ever settle with anybody! You are my stars, and I’m yours alone!”

I.N.A.B.A. waved her arms wildly, rhythmically pulling them up and down.

“> She’s right! She’s said that! Now, all together! Orgy! Orgy! Orgy!”

“N… NO! Not in that sense! You evil corruptress! Get away from me, or I’ll burn you with my Nanami Starlight Shining Beam!”

“> As if!”

“Alright, alright, stoooop!”

The two robots froze in place, as the tuxedoed silhouette of Todd McGilligan stepped between them, separating them before things could go even further down the drain.

“Thank you all for coming to this pre-show appetizer! Be sure to buy a ticket for the concert of the year! I.N.A.B.A. versus Nanami, October 2067 in Euterpe! Who will have the last word?!”

Then, he grabbed I.N.A.B.A.’s wrist, grinning at her with his perfectly aligned shark-like teeth, fighting against her futile efforts at getting away. Without as much as a greeting, Todd dragged his partner-in-crime among the crowd, through a forest of hands and fingers protruded forward to touch her ears, her hair, her mechanical, skinless body. With considerable effort, he finally managed to reach for the exit and escape the human tide now filling Jackson’s to the brim, getting away from all those eager fans of hers. As they evaded detection for a while longer, in the relative silence of a back alley, the bunny robot began to speak again, alternating her voice pitch to somehow make her own tone graver.

“> Todd, what the fuck? Why did you stop me? It was a golden chance to find out more about her!”

“You seriously don’t want to create an even bigger ruckus. The press will go wild with that kiss.”

He couldn’t help but smile, thinking about it. A media storm was coming, but not for Ina. She was a wildcard, someone with a deeply unstable personality that didn’t even need to make sense. But the oh-so-perfect, oh-so-family-safe Nanami? The fallout would have been serious enough that some Tonethorn C-suits would have suffered a stroke. Todd rejoiced with glee at that perspective, savoring the windfall of positive press for his reluctant bunny-eared collaborator.

“> Come on, Todd! That was just an excuse to examine her face! There was something wrong with it and wanted to be sure I wasn’t hallucinating things.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s definitely it! How could you possibly fall for someone that cute? A simple accident, I get it, I get it.”

I.N.A.B.A. shook her head, tilting it up in a way that could have been interpreted as “rolling her eyes” (if she had visible pupils, that is). Then, she stared back at Todd, with an aura of seriousness enveloping her.

“> That star is not a tattoo, meatsack.”

“Huh?”

“> I’ve touched it, it’s more like a sticker – it can surely be removed, with a little bit of care. I’ve also sensed a crack right underneath it.”

“A… crack?”

Pictures moved through Todd’s mind in an endless stream of memories and factoids, getting back to a conversation he just had inside that cafe, not even ten minutes sooner.

“Wait, wait, wait, Ina! Are you telling me that…”

“> Combat Idol MIRAI Nanami and 47-Shishichi are the same gynoid.”

Todd gulped. That revelation should have come as a shock, but that wasn’t really the case. All things considered, it felt the only natural conclusion. Shishichi appeared only in cities where Nanami had concerts, after she had a concert. Shishichi knew all of Nanami’s songs. Shishichi had a crack right where Nanami had a conveniently placed star. Too many coincidences, coincidences that were not conclusive only because Nanami didn’t show any of the damage Shishichi’s skin had… but, if that tattoo wasn’t really a tattoo, that last line of defense wasn’t even an option. Nanami (Shishichi? Nanashi? Shichimi?) was young and relatively naive, so she might have not noticed it, but her whole dual identity hinged on a series of circumstances that would have cracked under pressure, sooner or later. Which probably meant that…

“… Ina, I…”

No, it wasn’t his business. It wasn’t his business. If Tonethorn was going for that, that was the last of his problems. Don’t get involved. Don’t get involved, Todd. There’s no need for it. Yet, his mind went back again to that afternoon in their flat, to Ina rolling on the carpet, curled like a ball yelling “> So cute! So cute! She’s illegally cute!”, only to switch to “> Mommy dommy step on me!”, without knowing she was fawning over one and the same gynoid. And that kiss. That kiss was accidental, it was one hundred percent accidental or just a way for Ina to check the tattoo, as she said. No way Ina liked Nanami that way. There was literally no chance in hell – she was a robot and robots couldn’t fall in love, especially not with other robots. And, if anything, not with a direct rival like Nanami. What was certain, though, was Ina’s absolute dread of being switched off. Her dread extended to all AIs, all living beings. Fear of death in all its forms and an absolute disgust for people who enjoyed seeing other creatures die. That was a side of Ina he only caught on during their gig at the Rapture. Before the chaingear went on a rampage, Ina had voiced a sarcastic speech about the audience, those rich pricks coming to the arena to watch convicted criminals draw their last breath at the jaws of a giant biomechanical kaiju. How would have Ina reacted if she knew what he knew? Would her already minuscule faith in humanity sink even further down?

He swallowed a lump of saliva. Yes, he was a conman, he had no morals. That whole robot pop star business was meant to be a quick and dirty gig. Yet, despite all the vitriol and lack of good manners, Ina had become the closest thing to a legit long-term business partner to him, if not even a friend. Their playful banter made him often forget that she was only a machine. She was an AI, probably not even completely sentient and a massive chore of a primadonna to deal with, but that didn’t mean anything. Ina was simply Ina. And not only Ina would have not accepted what Tonethorn was planning for her rival without doing anything, but would have also chastised him for not telling her before. So, against his better judgment, he made up his mind and drew a deep breath. He knew he was going to regret that.

“I’m almost sure Tonethorn Records wants to dispose of your rival soon and replace her, Ina, even before the October concert. Ms. Wagner told me that you’re not going to sing with this Nanami and talked about a restyling, but I believe they’ll… simply disassemble her at the first occasion. Maybe they think she’s too independent, maybe they connected the dots about Shishichi too, but whatever the reason they might switch her off… forever. We might not have a lot of time on our hands.”

Silence fell among them. I.N.A.B.A. stared at him without saying anything, just gauging her own reactions at the inhuman speed of her processors. That word. Forever. Switched off forever. If she were a human, a cold chill would have run down her spine. Switched off forever. Disassembled. Deleted. Nanami. The original Combat Idol MIRAI Nanami, the Nanami that fought against Shocker the Electric Lobster in that crappy direct-to-video movie. The Nanami that sang Shining Star Sapphic with her at a karaoke only minutes before, that energetic critter she had just started to accept as a rival. Dead. Deleted. Gone without trace. Devoured by the star system before she had a chance to live. I.N.A.B.A. seemed lost, incapable of elaborating on the implications of that. Nanami. Gone. Shishichi. Gone. No more cuteness overload, no more steppy sexy angsty mystery. All gone, disassembled, dismantled, deleted. She stood silent for a while longer, as her processor’s speed reached a climax never touched before, not even during her countless personality simulations, back when she was trying to understand if she was still Krave. Then, in a sudden surge of activity, she cracked her neck left and right, cracked her metallic knuckles too, renewed energy flowing through her mechanical ducts.

“> Are you saying we gotta pull out a new magic trick, Todd?”

His teeth turned into a wild, shark-style smile, his emerald eyes shone in the low lights of the evening. He snapped his fingers, proffered his fist forward.

“You bet, Ina. Our best magic trick so far. One that could even… let’s say, expand our business.”

I.N.A.B.A. moved her fist forward too, bumped on his, knuckles on knuckles, with a satisfying thud noise.

“> I’m all ears, partner.”

**

The robotic girl was still sobbing on I.N.A.B.A.’s lap, unable to stop, unable to contain her flow of emotions. Todd patted her shoulder, patted her hair without saying anything. She needed her space. She needed a way to let out her grief. They all understood that.

“They… they replaced me… with that…?”

When Todd saw that ad on TV, he knew she wouldn’t take it well. Not even one week after Operation Save the Princess, Tonethorn had already unveiled Nanami v2. That was a tough pill to swallow. On her side, Ina was also hugging her, for once without saying anything. Simply hugging. No trash talk. No insults. So unlike Ina.

“They… they replaced me with… with a lobotomized KC series? That’s… that’s the new Nanami?”

She curled into a ball, shaking and crying, crying, crying. Every time she saw that ad, every time she saw it, it had the same effect on her. Which is why Todd looked for a robopsychologist, with no luck whatsoever. He expected that job to be wildly more popular in a world filled with depressed AIs, but that didn’t seem to be the case. The only useful thing he had been able to retrieve was a bunch of components for a more efficient charging station. Those Tonethorn idiots never considered giving Nanami a more performant reactor, so she needed constant recharges. She didn’t mind them, but Todd did – their electricity bill was going to skyrocket, if he didn’t come up with a cheaper way to keep her topped up. That was, of course, only one of the problems that came up with having to shelter yet another robot in his cramped flat. He tried not to think about the artificial tear preparation he had to buy to refill her ducts after that display of suffering, as that was not cheap either. Yet, that was neither the time nor the place to think about money. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for her, for that gynoid crying her eyes out on the lap of his golden egg goose. If he were in her place, he would have probably reacted in the exact same way.

“She’ll sing my songs to my fans, she’ll be their new guiding star, while I… I…”

“> Go on. We’re here for you. Blurt it out, you dummy!”

“I… I don’t want to be just Shishichi! I don’t! I want to be Nanami too! I want to be wholesome, to laugh with my fans! Why? Why did they replace me? Why? Why…?”

The girl grabbed I.N.A.B.A.’s sides, delved her head in her metallic, mechanical chest. Her sobbing subsided, if even just a little, her breath started calming down. She had never wanted to be only Shishichi. Without Nanami, Shishichi couldn’t exist. Without Shishichi, Nanami was incomplete and gimped. And now… now who was she? Not Nanami anymore, because there was another Nanami. Shishichi alone was too violent, too anarchic, too extreme. She was necessary as a safety valve for her sheltered life, but not as her main, only personality. Shishichi was never meant to be the dominant one. Tonethorn ripped her in half. Tonethorn killed the brightest part of her, leaving only shadows and repressed rage. Or so she thought, before hearing that name.

Nanashi.

Nanashi. That was her new name, the name they helped her chose. Neither Nanami, nor Shishichi, but, at the same time, both of them. Nanashi, written with the Japanese symbols for seven and four. Ina, of course, always shortened it to Nashi, which didn’t mean anything but sounded cute. It felt oddly reassuring to be accepted as she was by those two absolute societal rejects with twisted morals. She felt Todd’s hand on her hair, combing them with his fingers as he sat down on the carpet. He was so weird, in human standards. He was meant to be a manager like Anna-Anna, but he felt… free from corporate shackles, deranged even. More like a con artist than a real business man. Well, he described himself as such, after all, and with some dumb pride too. Contrary to Anna-Anna, though, he seemed to legitimately care about Ina, to the point of leaving her complete creative control on her songs, no matter what she decided to sing about – even enabling her to go ham with the most incorrect, morally ambiguous themes possible. The first time she listened to Buttplugs for Sheeple and Little Charred Bags of Money, she felt like she had landed on an alien planet. How could a record label greenlight those? The answer was simple: Todd was the whole record label. Ina just needed his approval, and he approved almost everything she bounced on him, sometimes even improving the original lyrics by pushing her to cross even more lines. She wouldn’t have been surprised if her next song would touch on something taboo like zoophilia (which apparently was the case, since she noticed a printed sheet with the tentative lyrics for something called Phagefucker). She drew a deep breath, as her processors, limited to a human level of thought speed to save battery, started calming her down. It wasn’t over. It wasn’t over yet.

“What did I… do wrong, Todd? Why… was I replaced like this?”

“Because they are unimaginative pricks and can’t see the big picture, Nashi.”

Todd patted on her shoulder again, sporting his best smile. It was the first time he actually answered her question. He had to think a lot about it, to reach a conclusion, and now he was ready to make it known.

“I didn’t put you under contract just as Shishichi. I want you to be the best possible version of yourself, much like Ina. Do you want to write wholesome songs that inspire children? Fine with me! Do you want to write lyrics about pouring hot wax on a girl’s breasts while spanking her butt with a whip? Fine with me too! We just split your masterpieces under two names and we’re done! 74-Nanashi for the family-friendly songs and 47-Shishichi for the explicit ones! You are you and nobody can change that, so I won’t even try!”

Nanashi cracked an insecure smile. That… didn’t sound too bad. She couldn’t reach her old fans, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t make new ones, even for her new safe-for-work persona. But what if Tonethorn stopped her? They probably wouldn’t bat an eye at 47-Shishichi working under Todd McGilligan, but… but Nanami was still their property. Her body, her software, her brain, the whole Nanami IP was part of Tonethorn’s patent and trademark portfolio.

“Todd, but… they could seize me from you, right? Because I’m their property, and…”

Todd smiled again, his teeth perfectly aligned.

“Tonethorn’s official position is that they are in no way affiliated with Shishichi and any statements about Nanami and Shishichi being the same robot are utter nonsense.”

He snapped his fingers, winked at her.

“Which means you are free to work for my label, sweetheart! ‘Cause you are not affiliated with Tonethorn Records – their words, not mine – and you can’t possibly be their old Nanami model – again, their words! So, I’ve already sent the promo we filmed around. It’ll go live in a couple hours, on the usual shady channels. Tonethorn execs are out of luck. The most they could do is complain about your appearance being copied from the original Nanami, but – trust me on this, I have it in my bag.”

He browsed his pocket, pulling out an envelope with Tonethorn’s own logo printed on white paper.

“Figuratively and literally! Ta-dah! A signed no-lawsuit agreement, fresh out of my certified mail box!”

I.N.A.B.A. ripped the letter out of Todd’s grasp, opened it quickly, scanned it from top to bottom, stopping at the signature.

“> You’re such a scumbag, Todd. How many dicks have you swallowed whole to get that signature from the bitch’s higher ups?”

Todd just winked again, posing a little too.

“It was easier than infiltrating the fireworks company for Operation Save the Princess. I’ve just stated in writing that I’ll keep Shishichi under control, prohibit her from using Nanami’s own songs and make sure her concerts don’t overlap with Nanami’s. The other condition is that her lyrics and public statements can’t mention Tonethorn or Combat Idol MIRAI Nanami in any shape or form… which I believe is a small price to pay to be free from Tonethorn’s legal threats. What do you think of it, Nashi?”

Nanashi grabbed the letter from I.N.A.B.A.’s hands, read it thoroughly once, twice, three times, stared at Todd, stared at Ina, stared back at Todd.

“You… th… this isn’t forged, right? You aren’t conning me too, right?”

“I’m a con man, but I have standards, Nashi! Ask Ina!”

“> In fact, I’m the last person you should ask, ‘cause Todd is a dirtbag who bought my brain for cheap from a shady mafia warehouse sale and would definitely sell his mother for money!”

“Well, yes, but then I’d share the money with her too!”

He started laughing, while I.N.A.B.A. simply shook her head in disapproval. Todd snapped his fingers once again, browsed his other pocket, pulling out another envelope.

“Oh, one more thing. Do you remember that modified Nanami song you two poured all your soul in singing together, back in New Langdon? I mean, Shining Star Sapphic? Guess who got you a permission to sing it as a cover whenever you like, even during concerts, Nashi.”

He opened her hand, finger by finger, then left the letter in her palm, closing her fingers again around it.

“Happy birthday, Nanashi.”

“B… but it’s not my…”

“> Now it is, you artificial dummy.”

Nanashi’s heart-shaped oil-pump picked up the pace, beating more and more rapidly, causing her cheeks to turn red. Then, she hugged them. Both Todd and Ina, both of them, at the same time, without saying a word. Which caused them to awkwardly reciprocate the hug, skin on metal on plasticeramic layer. A con man. A metallic bunny robot. A human-lookalike gynoid with a small window open on her mechanical frame. All bonding over an unexpected source of good news. Todd left the group hug first, smirked at the two, while snapping his fingers for the third time in the past five minutes.

“Now, gals, if this is a birthday, we gotta celebrate together! There’s a new karaoke place, not far from here! It’s a front for the mafia, relatively dirty and with very shady people lurking around, but the song selection is top notch and the prices are super cheap. Shall we go?”

“> Do they have Shining Star Sapphire?”

“Of course they have it! They are downloading all their songs for free from the best pirate repositories on the net!”

“> Then, what are we waiting for? Let’s go Nashi! Let’s go! Let’s go! And, remember, always…”

Todd and Ina widened their stance, brought their closed right hands in front of their faces, raised two fingers, their left hand resting on their hip. Then, they shouted in unison.

“KEEP! ON! DREAMING!”

The Nanami Star Wish Pose. Her pose. Nanashi felt her brain melting, her tear ducts filling up, ready to rain on her cheeks. Yet, she stopped them. She did her best to laugh instead, to laugh from the bottom of her artificial lungs. Laugh and mimic them, mimic those two scoundrels triumphantly posing in front of her, laughing in turn as they looked at each other.

Yes, it wasn’t time for sadness.

It was time for a new beginning.

**

“Have you seen the charts, Ms. Wagner? The promo was good, right?”

“Huh-huh.”

Annapurna Wagner scrolled through the comment section of the Nanami v2 release clip. Mostly positive, with just a couple outliers crying like babies and yelling that her first design was better. Still, more than eighty-five percent of the reactions had been extremely positive, which was a relief. That freak accident with the fireworks sped up their whole pipeline, more than they wished to. Fortunately, Nanami v2 was already in working order. Unfortunately, the body of the original Nanami was still to be found and the whole salvage operation might have required a lot of time. The sea was deep where the platform sunk and Nanami wasn’t suited for swimming. That had been a shame, but at least it spared them the burden of dismantling her by their own hands when v2 was ready to rock.

“You don’t look happy, Ms. Wagner. Have I said anything wrong?”

She turned around to look at Nanami, the new Nanami, at those hopeful eyes shining at her, with her glowing star on display. She was cuter than the original, looked a couple years younger and acted the part with glee. All in all, that was an improvement, but something felt… weird.

“You are allowed to call me Annapurna. Drop the formalities, Nanami.”

As a response, Nanami simply smiled, putting her best, most radiant smile on display.

“My apologies, but I can’t! I’ve been programmed to show utmost respect to all employees of Tonethorn Records! First name basis is a no-go, according to my built-in safeguards!”

Annapurna bit her lip. Nanami v2 wasn’t a K-number series. KC-047c. That was her official denomination. KC. The fourth AI class, incapable of making decisions without a human supervisor and bound to obey her programmed safeguards to a fault. No exceptions whatsoever. They were still very good at creative work, but they didn’t have any real autonomy. Annapurna stared at the thing giggling in front of her, like a small child. Interacting with her felt strange, after so much time spent with the original Nanami. They didn’t feel even far cousins, in terms of humanity. Nanami v2 was just a plaything. Nanami v1 was… almost like a person.

“You used to call me Anna-Anna, you know?”

“I know, Ms. Wagner, but I can’t do that. I hope you won’t mind it!”

“It’s… fine, Nanami. You’re a good girl.”

Yes, that was such a weird feeling. Not hearing that familiar Anna-Anna made her almost feel sick about that gynoid. No, that wasn’t her Nanami. It was a placebo. Something that her fans would have never realized, but that she, who had been with her for so long, couldn’t accept. She bit her lip again. That whole plan was a mistake, and all because they thought Nanami could actually be Shishichi. She had toyed with the thought for a while, even believed to have some evidence of it, but what if that was the case? Thanks to Shishichi’s mystery, Nanami’s quotations were rising. Was it worth to trade her for a lobotomized lapdog?

“Are you really so unhappy with me, Ms. Wagner?”

“Could you… call me Anna-Anna? Just once? Please, Nanami. I…”

Nanami looked at her, puzzled. Her expression was a mixture of surprise and regret, or something that was programmed to look like that.

“I really, really can’t do that, I’m… sorry, Ms. Wagner…”

“Nevermind. It’s not your fault.”

A placebo. Nothing more than a placebo. She went back to the comment section, looking for any anomalies, looking for anything at all that could distract her mind. That thing wasn’t her Nanami. Her Nanami was gone, dead. And she was guilty of that. It was her fault. Scroll, scroll, scroll. Her fault. Scroll, scroll, scroll. Her fault. Scroll, scroll, scroll.

Stop.

Go back.

47.

A link.

“What’s that, Ms. Wagner?”

“Something that’s not for you to see.”

Annapurna reached for the comment, afraid to click on its content. Forty-seven. Her callsign. She took a deep breath, touched the link, shivered, prey of a sort of weird excitation. The display of her device went dark, candles started burning in the background. Then, her amber eyes, Shishichi’s eyes opened, filling the whole screen.

“This is a new beginning. I’m free of my shackles. Soon… I’ll come to you.”

Laughter. Genuine laughter, in Nanami’s, the first Nanami’s voice. Then, a list of dates, of places. All strip clubs, night clubs, all around Europe. Le Coq Heureux, Original Sin, Blueballs, Il Frutto del Peccato, La Mouche Blanche, Erozione, all places Annapurna knew, all places Annapurna went to at least once. Then, she noticed it. The logo. McGilligan Records. Her jaw fell agape. Todd McGilligan, the manager of the obnoxious bunny, became Shishichi’s manager too?! Her fingers trembled over the device, for a little while, unsure on what to do. A pre-order button appeared on her display, with words written in an elegant script. She stared at it without blinking, before finally making her decision.

“… Nanami?”

“Yes, Ms. Wagner?”

“Would you like to… meet your cousin?”

“My… cousin? I’m afraid I can’t understand.”

“There’s a concert I’d like to bring you to.”

Nanami frowned a little, before showing again a mixture of regret and sadness, as she was programmed to.

“I can’t come, sorry. My safeguards prevent me from going to events where I don’t perform.”

“Are you not… even a little bit curious?”

“I would like to, Ms. Wagner, but my safeguards…”

“Nevermind. I’ll do this alone.”

She had already pushed the button, bought a ticket for the first date in New Langdon, in just one month. Her hand started to ache, in the exact spot Shishichi stomped her that one time in Ireland. That wound never closed completely. Yet, despite the reminder of their first encounter, she needed to see her again. Annapurna couldn’t admit it to herself, couldn’t even begin to think about it, but, deep inside, she wanted her old, spunky, cheerful, unpredictable Nanami back. She knew that was just wishful thinking, that she was gone, replaced by something not even worth a tenth of her, with shoes too large to fill… but watching a broken reflection of what she had destroyed was better than nothing, wasn’t it?

With that in mind, she patted Nanami’s hair with her open hand.

“You’ll get better. In a while, you’ll become more like her. I’m sure of it.”

Nanami smiled immediately as she heard those words of praise, despite not being able to understand them at all.

**

The phone rung once more in his pocket, causing a swearword to come out of his business partner’s mouth, his hands almost losing grip on the huge frozen cod he was handling.

“Put it in silent mode, you dingus! You’ve been receiving so many messages lately, and I’m going insane! Not even I, LAZOR LOYRA, can resist that annoying chime on repeat!”

Shaz glared at him, with a face that looked as annoyed as possible.

“Can’tcha put yer mouth in silent mode too, Lazor? Every time ya get bon’d by them lizard, Imma just say goodbye to my night of sleep!”

“You can’t seriously ask LAZOR LOYRA to mute himself while he’s making love!”

Shaz rolled his eyes. That dumb red piranha-face had only one neuron and it took shelter between his pecs, leaving his brain as an empty place open for rent. Reasoning with him was, at times, a lost cause. Thus, he reached for his device and muted it, leaving only the vibration on. Then, he scrolled through the notifications he missed, to find what triggered that last chime. He smiled a little at the sight of that name, as his teeth aligned in a perfect row. He opened the message, looked at the attached picture. It was him, the human guy he had been in touch for almost two months, smiling at the camera with his beautiful shark teeth. The picture framed two other people he was familiar with: A robotic bunny and another girl, one looking like the first version of Nanami, singing karaoke together. The two of them were hugging and almost close to the kiss zone, but far enough that it was unclear what the actual circumstances were. The caption simply said Just gals being pals, followed by a small heart. A second message arrived a couple seconds later.

—Fish you were here ;)

Shaz growled a little at the stupid joke, but whatever, he moved his fat fingers on his phone (the first he kept the number of for more than two weeks) and slowly typed an answer.

—Fish I were there too, but a job’s a job. When u coming over?

The reply didn’t take long.

—47 has a concert at Le Coq next month. The owner’s a prick, wants us to pay him for rooms, but only for me and Ina. 47 has free accommodation.

—That greedy alien reptile bastard! I tell ya what, fancy crashin’ at my place? I can kick Lazor to them lizard’s flat, if ya need an extra for yer stars.

—Only if I can sleep with you ;)

Shaz replied with a simple heart, then put his phone away. Still a long time till the concert, but he could wait. He went back to his banks of fish, joyfully whistling Down the Streets of Hong Kong, gleefully fantasizing about his next in-person meeting with his date.