Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Huh.

So.

There is a strange boy stepping off the elevator, and—for some uncanny reason—he is blindfolded and collared.

Alice watches him through the glass of her office as he checks in with Ophelia, the receptionist. He wears a black jacket and shorts, a travel-pack on his back, and—and why are his socks so high? Is there a school around here that requires such a uniform? 

But really, what’s with the blindfold? Was he in some kind of accident or is he just flaunting his fetishes in the light of day? 

Ophelia’s blond dual braids bounce as she greets him. She’s gesturing like a mad woman to his attire, no doubt psyched by its oddness. Alice wishes the glass of her office was one-way. She’s worried about openly-staring, but then again, everyone in the entire office is also staring. Right. He, uh, stands out.

She glances at her boss’ door. Seeing as she is his assistant, should she warn him there’s a potential threat?

She grimaces. What is she thinking? Isn’t ‘threat’ a bit much?

The boy is dressed like a schoolboy—partially, anyway. It’s a bit confusing. Maybe if it was a military school, but why the socks? Why the blindfold? Why the collar?

Why everything?

She sets her elbow on her desk and rests her chin in her hand as she observes. He and Ophelia are getting on well. Ophelia gets along with everyone, though. 

Alice jumps when he whips around and looks her way. She stays as still as possible as if he won’t see her if she just doesn’t move. It’s nonsense, but—

Oh.

He’s coming over.

Does he have business with her boss? She stabs a suspicious look at Adam’s door. Did he hire a fucking prostitute?

Ah. He did, didn’t he? It all makes sense now. Her boss is a bit of a freak, but during office hours? Has he lost his mind?

The door whisks open and the boy steps inside her office. Alice sits up rod straight, at attention. Good god, what face masks does he use? His skin is smooth, porcelain and doll-like and delicate. He gives a smile that she has definitely not earned. That is the smile of relief at seeing a loved one or something.

“2B!” He’s at her desk in the next instant. 

She waits, anticipant.

He says no more.

“To be what?” she asks.

He cocks his head. “Shit.”

To be shit? 

She looks him up and down. Is he calling her shit?

“You don’t recognise me, huh?” He splays his gloved hands flat on the desk top and leans over so his face is close to hers. “C’mon, there’s gotta be some data stirring in your memory circuits.”

He’s a bit scary, then. He expects her to recognise him, and he called her shit. Okay. Analyse, here. Think, think, think.

Did she get blackout drunk? She purses her lips and tries to flitter through her memories. When would she have met someone like him, and what could she possibly have done to piss him off?

“You’re in civilian attire.” The boy is blatantly checking her out. “Wow! As annoying as this all is, maybe it’s worth it to see you in professional human dress.” He comes around the desk and tilts his head this way and that. “I never thought I’d see you like this.”

She taps her shoe against the desk leg and wheels her chair away. “Now, don’t get the wrong idea.” Why’s he making a big deal out of a blouse and skirt, anyway? What, exactly, had she been wearing when they supposedly met?

The boy throws social cues to the wind and advances, and she wheels back again. Is he trying to corner her?

“I wasn’t the one who ordered you.” Alice holds her hands up in front of herself in defensive gesture. “I’m not into—into whatever you’re roleplaying.” She gives a flourishing gesture to her boss’ door. “My boss is in his office so perform your skit there. I’m busy.”

The boy glances at the door. “Your boss?” His voice goes hard. “Now, I wonder who that is in this fucked up scenario.”

So, he’s aware this scenario is messed up. At least he’s self-aware? Should that soothe her or make her more wary?

He brushes past her and all but boots Adam’s door right off its hinges. It clambers and crashes to the floor and Alice discreetly slides her chair to the opposite end of her office. She had nothing to do with that.

The boy disappears inside Adam’s office and silence swells. Alice waits, on edge.

He returns shortly after. “Tch. He’s not there.”

“He . . . must’ve stepped out.” Alice gets to her feet, crosses to the glass door of her office, and opens it for him for fear he will smash it next. She really likes having a door. “I can tell him you stopped by?”

The boy glances at her. He slips his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he dawdles about her office. “Hmmm.”

Alice tries to smile politely. Please, please just go away.

“What are you doing with your face?” he asks.

Smiling, goddamn it. She’s sure she’s smiling. She clears her expression. Apparently even smiles annoy this kid.

She clears her throat. “If there’s nothing else, then . . .”

He plops down on her office chair.

What? No! Don’t sit.

Her grip tightens on the door handle. What is he doing? Why is he making himself at home?

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and sighs. “2B, it has been ninety-one and a half days since you’ve entered this simulation. I’ve finally broken in, and—shit, do you know how outrageous the firewalls were to get in here?”

Alice stands at a loss.

“Do you know how much the commander was breathing down my friggin’ neck? And then once I got in I had to locate you. It’s only a simulation the size of a small city, but Adam scattered a ton of false-leads and led me on goose chase after goose chase.” The boy rubs his face now as though trying to rid himself of deep stress. “I finally find you here and you don’t have your memories. How am I meant to traverse this?” He sits upright now and bestows her with an exasperated look. “Do you know what a pain this is? I’ve got no protocols for an operation like this.”

Alice thinks it’s best to let him rant, then. She gives an understanding nod for lack of anything better to do.

“And, can you believe this?” He drops his head back against the headrest of the chair. “I think I may be stuck here.”

“In . . . in my chair?”

“No? In the Copied City.”

“The copied city. I see.”

Alice stalls in silence while the boy fumes in the chair. She looks out the glass for help. She catches Ophelia’s eye but Ophelia just gives her a wink. A wink. What is she meant to do with a wink?

Alice flips her off in return and Ophelia has the gall to look surprised. Was Alice the only one who saw the boy break Adam’s door right off its hinges for no apparent reason?

A series of sad squeaks redraws Alice’s attention to the boy. He has rolled the chair to the desk and now has his fingers steepled on the desk. He sits like this for a while.

Mmhmm.

Alice slowly lets the door shut. What is she meant to do? She just wants him to go away.

“Uh, excuse me?” She can’t help the sternness in her voice. “I’ll tell Adam you came by. As I said, I’m afraid he’s not here.”

He lifts his head, and then he stands. He approaches and she steps aside to give him space to leave. 

“First thing’s first.” He grabs her wrist and she stares at his hand in confusion. “Come with me.”

She’s about to protest, but as soon as he yanks her, words fail her. He’s strong. How is someone this slight so strong? She finds herself being tugged through the office towards the elevator. Ophelia watches them blow past with keen interest, her eyebrows raised high. 

This won’t go well. It’s not time for Alice to leave. She isn’t permitted. Her work day is 9-5 and she only gets a one hour break at 1pm, and she’s already taken it. She can’t—

The boy pulls her into the elevator and as soon as he presses the main floor button, the elevator shuts and locks down. Oh, good. Now she’s stuck in an elevator with this impulsive weirdo.

A series of warnings signal. The boy tenses. He nudges Alice behind him and takes on a defensive stance, his gaze darting about as the lights flash a deep amber. “We’ve entered a hostile situation, 2B. Stay alert.”

“I can explain.” Alice is surprised he’s unaware of the alarm system. “I’m still on-shift. I can’t just leave unless I’ve acquired permission or my shift is over.” She points up at the ceiling to indicate the infrastructure. “The security system is in place, after all.”

He glances over his shoulder at her.

“It’s not the same for you? You don’t know about it?”

“Know about it?” He looks irked. “I’ve been dodging it every damn turn I take. You’re telling me you’re a walking trap?”

“I—I don’t know?”

“Crap.” He straightens and rubs his forehead. “Now I have to hack my way out of this dumb box?”

“Well.” Hack? What does he intend to do? Tear down the walls with his bare hands? She presses the ‘open’ button and the alarms cease. “This is easier, I think.”

He stares ahead into the office. Alice’s colleagues stare back at them.

The boy whirls to face her, incredulous. “We’re stuck on this floor?” 

“Well.” She checks her wrist watch. “Until 5pm.”

“How long is that?”

“Uhh, two more hours.”

“Two hours?”

“I know. It can be kind of a drag, but that’s life.”

They stare at each other. They’re close, wedged here in the elevator together. Even the abysmal elevator lighting can’t hurt his flawless complexion. Despite herself, she lifts her hand and pokes his cheek.

“Oh, wow.” She can’t help it. He’s almost shiny he’s so perfect. She runs her fingers along his cheek, transfixed.

He jerks back. “Wh-what’s gotten into you, 2B?”

She finds her face getting hot. “Nothing.” What the hell is she doing? She can’t just go stroking strangers’ faces, even if that stranger himself has zero personal boundaries to speak of. 

And that ‘to be’ thing. Is it a saying she’s unfamiliar with that he uses at the start or end of some of his sentences? Slang, maybe?

“Well, um.” She clears her throat. “Now that you understand the situation, can I go back to work now?”

He looks away and gives a gravelly sigh. 

She inches away. When he doesn’t say or do anything, she zips out of the elevator and goes back into her office. Good thing the glass door locks. Surely he wouldn’t shatter the entire wall to get in?

She glances at Adam’s fallen door.

Surely.

“He’s in IT,” Ophelia says.

Alice and Ophelia are at happy hour in a bar down the street from their workplace. The strange boy is apparently in the database at work, listed as an intern to be working under the IT manager, Opel. 

“His name is Nines, I think,” Ophelia reveals.

“You think?”

“It’s spelt with the number '9' and the letter ‘S’.”

Alice simpers. “Edgy parents, huh?” She flicks a strand of hair out of her face. “May explain why he’s so . . . expressive.”

“He really shouldn’t come to work dressed like that.” Ophelia is grinning from ear to ear. “As much as I commend him, it’s just not professional.”

Alice peers down at her white wine. IT, Ophelia says. He’s in the IT department, and yet he came into her office looking for Adam—presumably. At the very least, Adam and Nines know each other. Is Nines a family member of Adam’s? Would explain why he’s so brash and comfortable in the office and why he thought it would be a grand idea to come dressed like he had. Maybe he’s going through a rebellious stage.

“Any idea why he was so cozy with you?” Ophelia tilts her head with an impish smile. “He got real comfortable with you, didn’t he?”

“Maybe he’s not very social. Has some . . . practicing to do.”

“Ooh, and are you willing to help him ‘practice’?”

Alice waves her hand between them, dismissive. It is curious, though. He acted familiar with her. If they’ve met, then where? Where would she have seen him? She shuts her eyes and tries to recall. He stands out as someone she would definitely remember. 

“Well.” Ophelia sits back and swirls her wine. “At least work might get a little more interesting now. Hasn’t it been so boring lately?”

“Yeah.” Alice peers out the window next to them. The bar they're at is called Popola’s. It has a flower-spattered patio they often sit at, but today they’ve chosen to sit inside for the ambiance. It’s rustic at times, but on weekends the backlights come on and paint the space in an electric blue that gives the bar a cocktail lounge feel. Today, the backlights are on because it is a Friday, and Alice feels accustomed to the alcohol and the vibe.

“I kind of feel like drinking more,” Alice says.

Ophelia wiggles in her seat. “No way! You rarely wanna drink.”

“What do you mean?” Alice’s voice is lazy. “We’re always having wine and appies. Alcohol helps me forget what a mundane life this all is.”

“I meant drink-drink.”

“Yeah.” Alice sighs. “We just work so much, and I can’t handle hangovers at work. Not with Adam breathing down my neck.” She takes a sip. “Honestly, I feel like Adam makes up half the tasks I’m supposed to do. I’m calling and leaving messages for the most erroneous places for the most bizarre things.”

“Adam’s probably on cocaine half the time, Alice.”

True.

“He never came back, did he?” Ophelia puts a finger to her lips in thought. “Wonder where he breezed off to today.”

“Wish I had the privilege to leave work whenever I wanted.”

“Right? That’d be so nice.”

They bask in a shared thought, gazing at the table. Alice watches as a frown flickers onto Ophelia’s face. Topic change, then.

“Should we switch to martinis?” Alice suggests.

They grin at each other.

And it happens quicker than Alice anticipates. She doesn’t often have martinis. They’re strong. They hit her quick. How many has she had? She doesn’t know, but the end of the day comes in flickers.

Her and Ophelia stumbling down the street, laughing and cursing. What a shitty city they live in. What shit lives they lead. What shit people they know and work for and what shit things they work towards.

What are they even working towards, again? What are they working for, and when does it end?

When did it start?

Ophelia cabs home. Alice will walk. She doesn’t live far. She wanders down the street wondering why it’s always so bright, so bright like spotlights or dreams or—

And then the boy with the blindfold is next to her, keeping her upright.

“Are you okay, 2B?” His voice is all concern and it warms her. “Hey, what’s wrong? Your motor functions are compromised.”

“I’m fine, you walking kink.” She paws at him. 

“Wha—” He seems miffed. “There’s a lot to unpack there, so I’ll just . . . wait, there’s some overheating, too.”

Is she hot? She touches her own face. Hmm. Just numbness. “I’m not. I’m fine.” Like a cat, she bats at the pendant that hangs from his collar. “Do you and Adam sleep together, by chance?”

“Do we what?”

She makes a crude gesture.

“Why the—? He’s a machine!”

“He does work me like a machine. He’s awful.”

“What has this place done to your psyche?” He catches her when she sags. “Not to mention, your words are slurred.”

“You’re pretty.”

“And you keep talking nonsense.”

It’s really the most coherent thought she has had in a while, so she begs to differ. 

She clutches him hard, and then levels him with a stare.

He holds her at arm’s length. “Wh-what is it?”

She stares him down, and then without slurring, without slipping up, she assesses him with perfect clarity and asks: “Will you come home with me?”

Chapter Text

Alice opens her eyes and stares up at the ceiling. There’s a dull throbbing in her head. Lovely, then. She dances a hand up her face, up her forehead, up through her hair. At least it’s Saturday and she can take it easy today.

She drags herself out of bed and pinches the fabric of her blouse between her forefinger and thumb. Classy. She fell asleep in her work clothes? How drunk was she last night? Water, then. Water and then functioning after.

She opens the door to find the boy with the blindfold yelling to himself.

“Pod? Can you sense my distress signal?”

Right. 

Right. 

“Pod? Respond if you can hear my voice!”

She invited his crazy ass over for some unfathomable reason. She’d wanted him to—oh, god. What had been in those martinis?

“What a pain.” He seems agitated, which may just be his default way of being. “Still can’t connect. I hate this silence. It’s so eerie.”

Silence? He’s yelling to himself in the middle of her living room—what silence?

She clears her throat to alert him of her presence and he spins around.

“2B!” He bestows her with a relieved smile. “I’m glad to see you’re okay. It’s a bit strange not being able to check on you the usual way.”

She crosses to the kitchen to her coffee maker. “And what is the ‘usual’ way, exactly?” She gets to work. She needs coffee. It’s way too early and she’s way too hungover to deal with this boy without caffeine. What is he even still doing here?

“Huh? Oh, I mean I couldn’t enter you last night.”

She misses the “on” button and stares at it in solemn silence. Okay. They didn’t get up to anything like that, then. That was a question she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer to, but he’s pretty blunt. She clears her throat and pushes the button.

“Considering your physiological state yesterday, I really wanted to perform maintenance, but . . .” He gives a shrug. “I just couldn’t.”

She watches the coffee machine spit about as it starts. ‘Perform maintenance’, was it? “Because I was drunk?” Well, at least he’s not a bad guy.

“You register in my system as a ‘biological lifeform’ and I cannot enter biological lifeforms.” He runs a hand over his face. “What the hell is Adam thinking, anyway, tampering with data to that extent?”

She listens to the lovely bubbling sound of the coffee machine. Soon, energy. Soon, life.

Soon.

“I get you are very committed to this lifestyle, but if you can’t—with biological—then—” She falters. “You know what? I don’t need to know. I’m gonna exit this conversation.” It’s too early for this.

He tilts his head. “Professional as always, I guess.”

Professional as always? Has he been doing all this to mess with her?

“Look,” he carries on, “I need to debrief you now that you’re lucid.”

Oh no he doesn't.

“Would you like one?” She needs to distract him.

“What?”

“Coffee.”

He’s silent for a long while. She waits. Waits.

“Sure?” He does not sound sure. “How’s your physiological state now, 2B?” He’s at her side in the next instant. 

She tenses. He’s persistent. Well, she did invite him over. They did both had expectations, no doubt. And it is the morning, and although she’s not drunk anymore, he is still pretty. And adventurous. He seems very, very adventurous. 

She peers at him, taking in the way he’s looking up at her with genuine curiosity and interest. She’s a little tingly with him being so close, with him looking at her. Actually looking at her. She’s flustered by letting herself feel impacted by someone’s attention. 

He doesn’t understand how bleak her life is, does he? She just works and sleeps and works and sleeps, and occasionally she’ll go out with Ophelia for a drink to try and forget the mundane pile of nothing her days lead up to. At least with this boy—Nines, Ophelia said his name is—she feels a bit of warmth. A bit of want. A bit of comfort.

Despite all his craziness—

“I set up a security perimeter while you were sleeping off the effects of the alcohol. It’s just a finicky one since I’m pressed for time, but it’ll hold up for a while. By the way, you shouldn’t expose yourself to toxins like alcohol, especially in enemy territory. It seems substances here mimic their real world effects. How fascinating. I wonder if this coffee works on similar principles . . .”

—never mind. His craziness is a lot.

Alice tunes him out as she watches the coffee finally finish brewing. What did he ask her? About her physiological state? Was that an innuendo?

She’ll play dumb, then. “I have a headache.”

Nines stops his blathering. “Oh, no!”

“I mean.” She gets out two mugs. “It’s not surprising given how much I drank last night. I’ll be fine.”

He watches her pour the coffee. “That’s just like you, 2B.” There’s affection in his voice. “You’re able to endure almost anything, huh?”

It’s just a hangover, but she’s touched by his sympathy. Really. Sometimes people don’t understand how awful these things can be, even if they’re self-induced. What a nice guy.

He’s still weird, though.

She holds his mug out. “I don’t have sugar or cream, but there’s milk if you want.”

He accepts the mug in both hands, staring down at the contents as though it’s something foreign to him. He looks back and forth from his mug to her. She sips hers, slurpy since its hot, but what does she care to have manners in front of him?  

“Just to clarify.” She lowers her mug and frowns. He's still here, so maybe they did fool around a little? “We didn’t sleep together, right?”

Nines, in the middle of a sip, sputters it. He coughs and flinches. “Did we . . . did we copulate, you mean?”

Why did he correct her language to something weirder?

He gives an anxious laugh. He looks like he has no idea how he got to this very moment in time in his life. “Wow, 2B.”

“What?”

“You were something else last night, but no—of course I did not engage in that kind of activity with you.”

Holy shit, then. 2B takes a wounded drink.

Right, when he first came into her office, he seemed obliviously hostile. He wasn’t friendly, but then again, he was. He got her home safe, anyhow, and did not take advantage of her. He’s a very confusing person.

“What do you mean, ‘of course’ you did not?” She looks down at herself. “Is there something wrong with me?” 

He gives her a wry look. “Uh, besides the fact you’re a corrupted mess, 2B?”

Um.

No, seriously. Holy shit.

He takes a long drink of his coffee. “Ah, this reminds me. I have to debrief you before you—”

She reaches for the collar of his jacket and tugs at it, yanking him closer. He makes a tiny noise of dismay.

“A ‘corrupted mess’, you say? You’ve got a mouth on you.” Her voice is eerily soft. “You sure don’t tread lightly, do you?”

He’s quiet for a moment. His head cocks to the side. “What’s wrong, 2B? I’m just stating facts.”

He has no fear. Truly.

His ears are starting to redden. “You’re a little close.”

She pulls him closer so their noses are touching. “Facts? Facts?”

“Mmm, you know this, 2B. It’s something that is proved to be true.”

He’s a complete condescending jerk, isn’t he? 

She opens her mouth to speak, but his gloved hand is suddenly on her face. Her face. 

“Hold on, 2B!” There is mild panic in his voice. “Wait a sec.”

She stands, fuming. He bats her hand away and steps back. 

“I’m vibrating,” he says.

Okay, then.

He holds his hands out, palms up, in front of himself. Oh. Well, he’s shaking. “What is this sensation?” He sounds intrigued. His head whips around and he settles his attention on the coffee mug. He’d set it down when Alice had grabbed him.

He picks it up and downs the rest in one go, and then begins exploring. He wanders around the kitchen and she watches him. He searches the area like he’s at an exhibit or something. He opens the fridge, waves his hand in, and makes a little “ooh” sound. He sticks his head in and then pulls back and shuts the door.

He randomly darts to the window and runs his fingers along the blinds. He splays them apart, violent enough to make Alice cringe. He shoves them up and knocks on the glass of the window, then he returns to the appliances. He stops in front of the microwave. Taps away at it.

“I suddenly have so much momentum!” He finds the button to open the microwave door.

The caffeine has hit?

Alice leans her hip against the cupboard next to him. 

“Wait a—” He recoils from the microwave. “Is this a machine?”

“Uh.”

“Crude and old, but it operates on its own after instructions?”

“I guess it does?”

“And it’s meant to do what?”

“Warm up food.”

“Food?” Nines looks uncertain. “How do you trust it not to sabotage the food? It’s a machine. Are you really so trusting?”

“It isn’t really—”

“What if it has ulterior motives? It can so easily poison the food. How do you even know what’s in there? What’s truly occurring in those walls?”

Alice looks at the microwave, at Nines, and then at the counter top. The counter top may have answers. 

“We’d better destroy it, 2B, in case we regret it later.”

She grips his wrist before he can do anything rash. “Ah, no. Please don’t wreck my microwave. It’s kind of handy, to be honest.” He did abolish a door, after all. He seems to have a grudge against inanimate objects.

He gives a relenting sigh. “Well, at least it doesn’t appear hostile.” He toddles about the kitchen. “Jeez, are these all machines too? How did I only just realise we’re basically on a battleground?”

“Fridge.” She points to the corresponding appliances. “Rice cooker. Dishwasher. Oven. Coffee machine, which you’ve already been acquainted.” Wait. Is she actually entertaining this?

“You seriously sleep peacefully a room away from all these? You’re something else.”

“Thank . . . thank you?” Is he complimenting her or dissing her?

“Wow.” He inspects away. “This is all pretty elaborate. Where did Adam get all this intel from? And manage to piece it together to this level?”

Alice watches him scrutinize. Her head kind of hurts, but he’s in good spirits. He seems to have forgotten he was brazenly being a dick a few minutes ago. Must be nice to live so flippantly.

Nines opens the oven. “Adam’s just a machine, but he sure created a detailed space. When I first came to the Copied City, this was all just a prototype. Nothing but white texture. Remember, 2B? When you saved—?” He halts, frowns, and then clicks his tongue. He grazes a hand along the stove, and then he lifts his chin and looks at her. “What I’m saying now. It’s nonsense to you, right?”

She raises her eyebrows.

He nods in solemn understanding but doesn’t elaborate. “It’s time I utilise this new-found energy. I’m going to put up a proper security perimeter. Adam may own this data, but that doesn’t mean I can’t create a little nook.”

“Hmm, yes, kind of you.” Alice has no idea what he’s saying.

But he becomes almost unresponsive.

And he stays like so for hours. After Alice has made herself a bagel and has done some light cleaning and has opened the windows for fresh air, the caffeine wears thin and Nines crashes.

She approaches him. He is lying face down on the floor in the living room.

She prods at him with her toes. “You okay?”

“It’s a weapon,” Nines whispers. “It’s gotta be. I fell for the coffee machine’s wiles. And you were its agent.” His breathing hitches. “But it’s okay. You didn’t know.”

She nods along.

“Something that tricks you,” he murmurs. “Makes you feel on top of the world, like you can just go and go and go, and then—then incapacitates you.”

She bites the inside of her cheek. “If you aren’t used to caffeine, I’m sure the crash hits pretty hard.” She kneels next to him. “You’ll be okay. You’re just tired.”

Slow, effortful, he rolls onto his side. “I did it, 2B.”

She peers down at him. He is the definition of stoic disposition.

“Your whole apartment. It’s safe. You don’t gotta worry . . . about your microwave trying to kill you.”

“That’s wonderful news.”

“Or Adam . . . Adam forcing his way in.”

“He never has, but that’s comforting anyway.”

He peers up at her, wistful. “I did well?”

She scooches a little closer. “Yes, Nines.”

“What?” His voice breaks. “What did you call me?”

“Uh, your name?”

He grapples for her. She lets him hold her hand. His hand is a warm comfort. He’s really roping her in.

“My friends call me that.” He half-smiles, tired, fading. “Thank you, 2B. For everything.”

And he passes out.

Alice frowns. Well, that was dramatic. She’ll never let him have coffee again.

Chapter Text

Alice sits on her balcony, her chest tight as she watches people below go on about their day. She often sees the same people at the same time. Their schedules seem similar to hers: unbent and ongoing. Same thing, day after day. It’s all quite mechanical and predictable.

Hum. How aimless. She takes a woeful sip of coffee.

“Psst.”

She lowers the cup, her eyes going half-lidded. Can this boy not see she’s trying to brood?

“Pssst. 2B. Hellooo?”

She cranes her neck to see past her lounging chair. Nines’ head is poking out around the balcony doorframe. So, they are just peeking at each other like children, then?

He beckons her with one hand. He disappears.

Well, that’s mysterious. He’s awake then. Here she goes. She stands and slips back inside. As soon as she is through the glass door, Nines slides it shut behind her with other-the-top care as if he’s trying to be as quiet as possible. 

Once the door is shut, he turns to her and speaks louder than she expected: “2B!”

She jerks away. “What?” Why is he so animated? He hasn’t had more coffee, has he?

“You should avoid leaving this space,” he says. “This ‘apartment’. The walls, I mean. That’s where the barriers are, so I just latched onto them and overwrote their coding to work in our favour. We’re safe here and cannot be heard.” 

“What does that mean?” she asks.

“It means I’ve hacked into—”

“2B.” She taps the side of her coffee mug. “What does ‘2B’ mean? You keep saying it.”

He falters. “It’s your name.”

“My name.”

“Your name.”

“My name.”

He pauses, and then nods. “Your name.”

“Okay.” It is not her name, but he seems to really want it to be. 

“C’mere.” He grabs her wrist and tugs her with that grip of his that’s like a painless vice. He steers her to the sofa and directs her to sit. He stands in front of her like he’s about to give a speech, a hand on his chest in some kind of salute. What’s this, then?

“Your name isn’t Alice,” he says.

Ah. 

She cradles her coffee cup, drawing it slowly to her mouth.

“Your name is 2B and you’re an android fighting in the 14th Machine War in order to save all of humanity from the threat of an alien invasion. You’re currently in a simulation and you’ve been trapped here for months. The commander sent me here to retrieve you, ma’am.”

Some coffee drips down Alice’s chin. She failed to hit her mouth properly, thrown off by the absolute madspew coming from this kid. And to top if off, did he call her ‘ma’am’? This is definitely—

“What kind of kinky shit are you into, exactly?” She speaks in deadpan.

He falters. He looks right, and then left. “Why’re you asking me a question like that?” He withdraws a little. “Come to think of it, since I’ve found you here you’ve been hyper-fixated on sexual relations. Is this Adam’s doing, too?” He gives a teensy, sharp inhale. “Did he tamper with—” He slaps a hand over his blindfold and gives a laugh that seems to be wrenched out of him. “Oh, of course not. What am I saying?”

She blinks up at him. Is he okay?

“2B, be serious here.” He drops his hand and sobers. “This is really important.”

She looks down at her lap. She doesn’t know how to proceed, exactly.

He gives a sigh. “I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“I’m really not into this kind of thing.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t understand a word you say, I mean.”

“Oh!” He sits beside her. “Okay. Sorry. It’s hard for me to gauge your level of intelligence with your cognitive state as it is right now. I mean, your baseline knowledge is a total mystery to me.”

That’s a real lovely way of saying he thinks she might be stupid. 

He starts to blather on about aliens and she tunes him out. He’s right next to her and he really does have a flawless complexion. Even the way he moves, his hand gestures and head tilts, is proper. He’s probably rich. Rich people are eccentric, aren’t they? And he’s very passionate about this fantasy of his. Seeing someone so alight, especially in comparison to how she spends her days waiting for the next one . . . well, it’s a little precious. 

He has a soothing voice. Maybe listening to him isn’t so bad. For someone who is socially awkward, he sure is confident. She takes a meek sip of coffee and nods along to his babbling, and eventually his words pull her back in.

“Your name. This is a word you are referred to that helps identify you from others. Your name is ‘2B’, which is a stand in for YoHRa No. 2 Type B, or Battle. You’re designed for war, you see.”

“War, got it.” Can she not, like, choose her own character? She gets its his fantasy, but does he have to have complete control?

“Machines are big, bad, scary enemies,” he says.

She wavers. Wait a minute.

“They’re mean and they want to wipe out all of humanity—and by extension, androids. Androids, like you.” He points to her. “And I.” Points to himself. “We only resemble humans as we were made in their image. We’re actually like super-duper soldiers.”

She cannot believe this guy. He’s maybe the most patronising, condescending, belittling person she has ever met. Was she seriously zoned out on him, admiring him, and all the while he was talking down to her?

He looks crestfallen. “Ah. It’s not permeating. Looks like I’ll never get through to you like this.” He stands back up and folds his arms over his chest like she has failed him. “I think I understand now. No matter what I say, you aren’t going to believe me.” He looks up at the ceiling, and then at the walls, and finally at the floor. “It’s just not in your developed schema, is it?”

She fixates on her hands, willing herself to keep steady. Do not hit him, Alice. Do not hit him.

He scratches at his neck. “I’ll have to re-evaluate my approach. Wow do I wish I had a protocol to follow.” He paces now. “Okay. Okay. You’re safe here for now, 2B, so just stay put. I’ll be back after doing a more thorough diagnostic of the situation.”

She lifts her head. She doesn’t get it, but this means he’s leaving, right?

Probably for the best, for his sake. She’s about ready to boot him off her balcony.

He heads for the door. He opens it and glances back. “Don’t come looking for me, okay?”

She frowns. “I . . . okay?”

He leaves. When he shuts the door, she sinks back into the couch, baffled.

What the hell, then. 

9S has to focus.

He knows this. It’s vital. 

But waaait.

2B wanted to have sexual intercourse with him? She was quite fixated on it. Interesting.

Except, no. No. It’s not interesting because they are partners and they are soldiers and the most important thing is the mission.

Yup. He’s a soldier. There’s no time for that, especially under these grave circumstances. She’s a battle class, too! Why does she even wanna do stuff like that? He’s a scanner and he’s curious about everything. Everything. But a battle class wanting to do that unnecessary and useless but kind of fun and intriguing but unnecessary and useless stuff with him? 

Is he really that desirable? To a battle unit that wouldn’t even have inherent curiosity instilled in them like his model does? Well, he is the best of his class, and—

No.

He has to focus on the task at hand.

She looks so good in human dress. Like so good. She touched him last night. Nothing crazy, but with intent. A certain kind of intent. Her hand on his collar. On his chest. She pressed in close. She felt so nice. Wow.

Stoppit.

So nice.

Okay, fucking focus, 9S. 

Overall mission: rescue 2B.

Peripheral mission: gather intel on Adam. Kill him if it poses no risk to 2B’s mental connection to the simulation. Before getting stuck here 9S put in a request to capture Adam to study him in order to find out how, despite being a machine lifeform, he managed to a) create this intricate human-inspired digital space, and b) manipulate an android’s personal data to such a drastic degree—but this was a request command has denied, oddly enough. 

Anyway.

Current objective: get 2B on his side. It doesn’t have to be as a soldier. As long as he does not alienate her, they should be okay. He just needs her to trust him over Adam. That is imperative.

He walks across a rooftop, mindful of the pathways within the infrastructure beneath his boots. He only peeks at randomised times and does not allow his subconscious to linger anywhere for fear he will get stuck in a trap Adam has set. Now that he has left the barrier in 2B’s “home”, he is again traceable. 

He stops to watch a mammal-creature called a house cat scamper out in front of him. The cat hops to a tree and then onto a balcony. A cat. He has only seen one in old data logs and read of them in ancient literature. Once, this tiny thing had been worshiped by humans. Was such a powerful creature really so soft-looking? He kneels to get a better look. Adam has even included whiskers. Whiskers were for balance. And the tail. The tail swishes. Cute.

He stands, shaking his head. 

He locates the building he found 2B in. It is what she calls an “office” and it is within a particularly tall structure. These buildings are meant to represent what the city ruins once looked like so many thousands of years ago, aren’t they?

It is an especially guarded part of this simulation and he wasn’t able to find a back-end way in, hence why he’d had to create a valid identity with permissions to enter. 

IT guy.

He drops down from the roof he is on and lands hard, disrupting the artificial pavement below. It cracks beneath him as pavement should and 9S resists the urge to marvel at the realism. 

He enters on the first floor and locates the elevator he used before. He is not at the mercy of this “schedule” 2B kept mentioning so the elevator should not bar him. He is not attached to any grid and no events are tied to his data here—not yet, anyway—and he has to make sure to keep it that way. At the very least, he must not let Adam attach him to this place like he is some kind of pawn. 

He rides the elevator, listening to the music that plays from above. He reaches the office floor and steps off, humming. He catches himself and stops humming. Damn catchy elevator music. He will not be swayed.

The office is empty. It buzzes with the liveliness of the unseen coded world beyond it and 9S peeks in here and there to check if there are threats nearby. Seems okay. Suspiciously okay.

Where has Adam been since 9S has shown up?

Hiding, or observing?

9S slips into 2B’s office. He’s about to enter Adam’s office, but pauses. He surveys 2B’s workspace with a mild frown. There might be valuable clues here. 

He approaches her desk. Opens a drawer. Hmm. Stacks of useless forms. Another drawer. He leans closer and takes out the object. Turns it about in his hands. It crinkles. It’s obnoxious. Why does it crinkle so? 

“Potato chips” is written on it, followed by, “An explosive experience!” Surely that isn’t literal? 2B wouldn’t be silly enough—even as she is right now—to keep a potential bomb in her desk?

Huh. Ingredients. Spicy flavour. Oh, right. Food, then. 2B must think she feels hunger in this world. 

This 2B who thinks she is human is quite different than the one he knows. Without the overbearing duty of being a soldier and without the knowledge of humankind’s tightrope fate that depends solely on them . . . is this 2B more carefree?

He mulls. She didn’t seem carefree, but she didn’t seem to have any sense of pride in working here. Well, she was created for battle. She was created for something big. 

Sitting here . . . doing paper work . . . eating potato chips . . .

He glances around, wary. Is Adam trying to weigh her down with a meaningless existence?

[Meaningless?]

The voice is inside his head.

[Then what gives ‘meaning’ to a concept, I wonder?]

Shit. 9S has lingered in one spot for too long. He whips around, throwing up a mental barrier to prevent Adam from hacking in any further. Adam has just tapped in and is not yet a threat. 9S intends to keep it that way. 

Adam is standing in the doorway of his “office” with a smirk. His long hair is up in a high ponytail atop his head. So it seems he has been researching hairstyles, too. Been a busy machine, huh?

“Oh, now, now.” Adam is at perfect leisure in a suit and tie, his ankles crossed in an unassuming way. “I’m not going to do anything to you, 9S.”

9S tenses. “Like I’ll believe anything a machine says!”

“I just so happened to be working away in here.” Adam gives whimsical nod towards his office. “I could hear you rummaging about, since, well . . . my door appears to have been blown off. You wouldn’t happen to know something about that, now would you?”

9S draws up the first data-mined thing at his immediate access—something recent, memorable—and conjures it into a physical shape. He pulls his hand back and whips it without mercy at Adam. It sails through the air with a wailing “meow” and Adam jerks to the side to avoid it. It shatters into useless data fragments against the window, and they both stop to assess what just happened.

Adam is looking at him with something akin to wonder. “Did you just throw a cat at me?”

Goddamnit, it’s awkward not having his regular selection of swords and spears and all. 9S tries to assemble another weapon but Adam flicks his hand forwards and a tiny white block taps 9S on the forehead.

9S blinks as it falls to the floor. He touches his forehead, more annoyed than anything. “Ow?”

“Calm down, android. Why are you always so quick to act?” Adam sounds at perfect ease. “You really should learn the art of negotiating.”

“Negotiate? With you? You’re—” 9S lunges, only for a wall of white to pop into his way. He whacks it, irritated.

“Yes, yes, I quite understand,” Adam says from beyond the wall. “I’m a machine and you’re very hateful towards us.”

“Like you haven’t earned it?” 9S veers to the right. Another block intercepts him. He wishes he had his sword so he could cut these pixels out of his way. “After what you did—”

“My goodness, even 2B wasn’t so rude as to interrupt me when I was speaking.” Adam’s voice carries, factual. “Don’t you want to know how to save your precious partner?”

9S grits his teeth. He tries again to go around the white wall, but more data compiles and it grows. Oh, for the love of—! “I bet if I kill you this mad dollhouse will all fall apart!” 

Adam gives a weary sigh. “It seems you’re just too rash to reason with like this.”

9S senses a change. The white walls disintegrate and 9S has a clear shot to Adam, but he knows better than to fall for the bait. He goes back on the defensive and solidifies his barrier. He won’t let Adam in. He’s a scanner and he’s not about to let him take control.

Adam inspects his fingernails. “I heard a little rumour YoHRa are not allowed to be emotional, but here you are. Yes, much too lively.” His gaze flicks to meet 9S’ gaze. “Shall we take some of that liveliness away?”

Something materializes next to 9S. At first it appears as a mass of black cubes—bouts of randomised data?—but then it assembles and takes shape. 

It forms into a 2B model and 9S regards her with numb caution. Did Adam conjure her here, or is she a fake? 

She grabs him by the shoulder, yanks him so he’s facing her, and pulls him tight against her. 

Huh?

He goes completely still. It’s like he has been short-circuited. She’s hugging him? So nice, so nice.

She presses her mouth to his and his system heats up, spiking and sputtering. 2B’s lips are against his. She’s—really—?

No, this is—

He rips away, but it’s too late. He’s no longer in the office. Adam has him.

“Oh.” 9S looks around the white space that surrounds him. He is nothing but a button suspended in the empty absence of solidity. He scrambles about, anxious.

[I cannot believe you have not learned, 9S.]

9S searches, searches for something to grasp.

[You’re easy to pin when your weakness is so obvious.]

9S bumps into invisible walls. This is a pain. What a low trick. This is pure embarrassment. Last time Adam trapped him, at least he’d been injured. How is he going to explain this? No, Commander, an EMP blast did not render me into a vulnerable state. I think, technically, a kiss did?

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

[You’re losing focus, 9S. We both know how scattered you can get.]

Right, focus. Focus. Objective: find an escape route ASAP. Anything. A crack, a sign. Look, look, look. Don’t listen to him, he’s just—

9S stops his wild quest for an exit when something pops up in his view. It’s blurry. It’s strange. Compelling.

He inches closer.

What is . . . ?

Inch, inch.

He stops in front of it.

It appears to be a child’s toy. A “teddy bear”: small, brown, soft, with an oversized head. Its weird marble eyes glimmer with intelligence, and then, for some reason: its left arm grows steadily in size, larger and larger until it spasms and reverts to its original scale.

Uh.

Its head gets a bit bigger, contorts into a sharp polygonal shape, and then goes back to looking fluffy-textured.

9S edges away. Never mind. Never mind, he doesn’t like it.

[Wait, wait.] The voice that comes from it is most definitely Adam’s. [It’s a work in progress. Pardon the glitches while I adjust it.]

“Stop adjusting it! It’s grotesque.”

[Have some patience.] The bear’s foot goes saggy like it has lost all fluff, and then the entire bear flattens like a disc. Every fibre of 9S’ being tenses as a prickling sensation runs up his spine. 

“Ugh, no. Why are you even trying to take on that form?” 9S zips around. “Get away.”

It's floating after him, waving and bobbing, stretching into bizarre pixel shapes. There’s no sound and button-9S glides along in silent horror.

Seriously? How is he going to explain this in his report? Being chased by a disproportionate, malfunctioning Adam-teddy-bear monstrosity?

He really, really hates machines.

Chapter Text

Alice rummages through her fridge. Finds leftovers from two days ago. Opens the container. Stir fry. Seems fine. She sets it in the microwave and tries to set a time. Frowns.

It’s unresponsive? The screen is completely blank. She checks whether it’s plugged in and confirms it is.

Actually—

Now that she’s paying more attention . . .

She goes back to the fridge and opens it. She gawks. The light is off, so—?

She touches one of the shelves. It isn’t as cold as it should be. She pokes her head in and listens. No sound. She tries to turn on her coffee maker. No reaction. She attempts to turn her rice cooker on.

No.

She backs away from her kitchen, a hand covering her mouth. 

No!

It was him. 

Why?

Why did he do this to her? Why does he hate her so much? She hasn’t done anything to him to deserve this kind of madness.

Wherever that little shit has gone, she hopes he is suffering in some awful, twisted way.

This is awful. This is twisted.

[Come here, will you?]

Not a chance, freaky machine.

9S skits along the endless white, zigzagging now and then when Adam tries to throw his teddy-bear form at him. Adam has mastered the form and it is simply an unassuming toy that ripples after him. It may be more unnerving than the spastic thing from earlier, now just this illogical floating form of a plush toy coasting along after him.

This is 9S’ oddest encounter yet, and he’s seen machines perform plays. He’s seen machines engage in mock orgies, for the love of humans.

But this is a whole new level of evil.

[9S, come now. Why are you running? I chose this form as it is said to be comforting.]

There has to be an exit. Something flickers in the distance and he glides towards it. It may be a trap but Adam seems pretty fixated on this stupid chase, so maybe, just maybe 9S has caught a break.

A break in the system.

[It is recorded that human children kept this type of thing in order to fall asleep. Surely this should work on disarming you.]

9S reaches the anomaly and sudden light envelopes him—

—only for him to have lost all mobile functions.

No! This is all wrong!

A texture of softness secures 9S and he is lifted, button-form, into the arms of the teddy bear. There is a long pause where neither 9S nor Adam say or do a thing as though they are both in limbo.

[Is this not comforting?]

This is hell.

Okay. Keep it together. First thing’s first. 9S concentrates on restoring mobile functions. He manages a wiggle.

[Now, do you remember, 9S? I challenged 2B to a battle to the death here in this city.] 

9S wriggles harder, vibrating against the bear’s grip.

[She thought she finished me. I, too, thought I was finished—and oh, how lovely it had been being on the verge of death, so cold and fulfilled.]

9S stops moving. Adam is providing a real explanation of how he managed to survive? He isn’t misleading him?

9S figured whatever Adam had to say, it’d all be lies and tricks. Yes, 9S has wondered how Adam survived. Although 2B had prioritised 9S’ well-being over ensuring Adam was destroyed, by all accounts he’d sure looked finished to 9S. It wasn’t a concern at the time. As far as either he or 2B knew, Adam did not survive that attack.

Yet . . .

[Eve found me, however, and restored me. Who knew he had such talent?] Adam holds 9S out at arm’s length and 9S is forced to look into the bear’s marble eyes. [Do you think, still, that us machines are incapable of emotion?]

9S feels a tick go off. “Of course you aren’t capable! That’s insane.”

[Does this city of mine feel emotionless to you?]

“Absolutely!”

[And do my intentions?]

“How should I know?”

[Do you know what wonderful test subjects you and your partner are? You may not be human, but you are closer than you may realise.]

9S goes silent.

[Just look at how invested in this simulation 2B is. Like it’s natural for her. Wouldn’t it be nice, 9S?]

9S says nothing. Adam’s just rambling. He’s mad. He’s just a mad, malfunctioning machine and nothing he says has any merit.

[Nice if you could truly become like the humans you so admire?] Adam pulls 9S closer. [How interesting it would be, little android, if we could truly feel?]

9S snaps into awareness, the office setting coming in at him like a suction. Adam is Adam again: the machine lifeform that thinks he’s eloquent and takes on the appearance of an android—or human. 9S is back to his regular appearance as well, and Adam still has a hold of 9S and alarms go off in 9S’ system based on their proximity. 9S leaps back, shoving Adam with a programmed instinct, and lands on top of 2B’s desk. 

He steels his jaw. “You’re full of shit, Adam.”

Adam looks pleased with himself. “Well, you don’t have to agree with my musings.” He takes to inspecting his fingernails like earlier. “What you should value, however, is the instructions on how to restore your partner’s memories, yes?”

9S tries to control his breathing. He waits, his stance on the defensive.

“Excellent. Seems I’ve finally gotten you calm enough to listen.” Adam’s grin is languid. “Play my game. That’s all you need to do.”

9S hesitates.

“Play my game and the code will unlock.”

Alice strolls into work on Monday. She stopped at the coffee shop on the way to work since someone sabotaged her coffee machine along with the rest of her kitchen. She sits in her office inhaling her coffee, watching the elevator doors with a hawkishness that alarms some of her colleagues when they spot her.

“E-everything alright, Alice?” Forrest pokes his head in. 

“Peachy keen.” She squints at him. Actually, he resembles Nines. She must try her best not to snap at him out of nowhere in the future.

She finishes the coffee and her gaze flickers to the clock on her desktop. It’s 8:50am now. Shouldn’t Nines have arrived already? There’s no way he came in without her noticing. She has been staring a hole into the elevator door for the last hour, and he also stands out drastically.

He does work here now, right?

She stands up and knocks on Adam’s door. It was already replaced when she got in today, so he must’ve discovered it over the weekend. She folds her hands in front of herself as she waits.

The door creaks open a sliver and Adam peeks at her. 

“Good morning, Adam,” she says.

“Are you alone?”

Uh . . . what? “Yes, I’m—”

He swings the door open wide with an airy laugh. “Wonderful, then. What do you need?”

“I have a question.”

“Is it for a client?”

“No.”

“Ooh. A personal question?” He splays a hand on his chest. “For me?”

Alice already regrets engaging with him. She strikes a balance of trying to avoid the man she works under as best as she can given his . . . eccentricities . . . but she wants a clear answer.

“Do you know if we’ve hired a new IT technician?” she asks.

He leans against the doorframe. “Hoh? And why would I know? Things like that are beneath me.”

She pins him with a wry look before turning on her heel. “Thanks anyway.”

“Ah, Alice?” His voice piques. “If a new hire were to be seeking me out—you know, on the off chance we have a new hire and such—do tell him I’ve gone home for the day. No, the week. The month. I’m on extended leave.” 

Alice slowly pivots on her heel. That’s awful suspicious. “Say, Adam.”

“Bye, now.” He swings the door closed.

“Adam.”

The door clicks shut and she hears him lock it.

What the hell? He definitely knows about Nines. Does Nines mess with him like he has been messing with her? Alice stands with a hand on her hip, her mind whirring with possible explanations. Adam was mysteriously nowhere to be found when Nines came into the office on Friday, too. What kind of relationship do they share?

Well, Nines doesn’t appear to have come in today. She exits her office and approaches Ophelia to double-check.

“Hey.”

Ophelia blows her a kiss and then drops her voice to something husky: “Hi, Alice.”

“Can you not?” Alice crumples a post-it and throws it at Ophelia. 

“Nines told me you invited him over Friday night.” 

Alice steps back like she has been shoved. How does Ophelia know that? When did she speak to Nines?

“Is he here?” she demands.

Ophelia makes a show of fanning herself. “Oh, my. You sound like you can’t wait to see him.”

“I’m going to murder him.”

“Ooh, did he leave without saying ‘goodbye’? He seems a little like a player.” Ophelia makes a heart with her fingers. “Cut him some slack. You have to work together.”

“Is he here?”

“How did you miss him? You were staring at the elevator all morning. Now I know why . . .” Ophelia points past Alice to the IT department. 

Alice spins around. How did he slip past? She marches down the aisle to the nook that makes up the IT department of four or so employees. They don’t have a lot to do day to day judging by how they camp out and eat junk-food and—well, one guy in the corner is napping. 

She scans the hodgepodge of people: Opel, the lead IT tech, who gazes at her without much interest as she shovels sour candies into her mouth. Forrest, the brown-haired mousy boy who she spoke to earlier. The sleeping one she’s unfamiliar with and the other—

Wait a minute.

Nines is here. No wonder she missed him. She was looking for his bizarre outfit, but Nines today is wearing somewhat normal clothes. Somewhat. He’s drowning in a baggy black hoodie that falls to his knees and dwarfs his hands. He sits at his desk, expressionless as he stares at the monitor in front of him, his mouth hiding behind his oversized sleeve. The hood is up, hiding his stark platinum hair, and he seems to be mindlessly scrolling through something.

“D’you need something?” Opel asks. “Some technical difficulty? If there’s nothing, you’re distracting us.”

From slacking off?

Alice leans over to see what has Nines’ attention. “How to kill my new boss” is in the search bar, followed by a range of articles. 

“Alice?” Opel prods.

Nines starts and leans away from the computer. He looks alarmed by Alice’s appearance. She is nosily leaning over to see his screen, after all—but who cares? He’s the asshole.

His eyes, though. They’re uncovered. They’re bright blue and beautiful and she cannot believe how flawless this boy is. She’s stunned into admiring him and it’s not the fucking time.

“You.” Her voice is venom.

“Hi, Alice!” He sounds oddly chipper.

She feels like she has misplaced something but cannot figure out what. “Uh. Hi?” He called her Alice?

“How’s the weather?”

“Uh.” She looks outside the window past his head. “Cloudy.”

“Cool!”

Is he broken?

She regains herself. “Nines. You fucked my apartment up.”

Opel pauses mid-chew to glance at Nines. Forrest’s frantic typing abruptly stops and he whips his head around.

Nines seems to be fighting to keep his smile on. “I helped, you mean to say?”

“Helped? I can’t use any of my appliances.” Alice towers over him. “I had a technician come in yesterday to fix it and he said he had no idea what to do. It was ‘the work of the devil’, he said.” She leans closer and he leans back. “Everything in my fridge and freezer went bad. How are you going to compensate me?”

Nines pinches his hood between two fingers and slips it off his head, revealing his hair and an earnest look on his face. “Comp . . . compensate?” He suddenly flushes. “I—you—want me to do something for you?”

Alice stalls. What’s with that reaction? Why does he seem pleased by the idea?

She swallows as heat gathers at the back of her neck. Shit. Why’s she getting flustered, too? It’s normal to ask for compensation after someone puts you out, isn’t it? 

Forrest gives a tiny gasp. “Opel!” He leans forward and tugs Opel’s sleeve. “You think they’re hooking up?”

Alice rounds on him. “I’m right here! And we are not.”

“Y-yeah!” Nines frantically waves his hands. “It’s not like that. Alice just invited me over and gave me some kind of drug that made me go and go and go. Gosh, it was like I couldn’t stop.”

Alice recoils in horror. What’s with that recall? 

Opel and Forrest share a look and then settle it on Alice.

“Wow, Alice.”

“Yeah. Wow, Alice.”

Alice should’ve known better than to confront this master-manipulator in front of other people. Of course he’d turn the situation into something ridiculous. 

She grabs one of Nines’ hoodie strings and pulls, earning a collective gasp from Opel and Forrest. 

“Everyone knows you don’t just tug a hoodie string!” Forrest is aghast.

“Nines.” Alice’s voice drops like a stone. “Lunch. We’re going to have lunch together today. We need to discuss some things.”

“Safe words," Forrest tells Opel factually.

Screw off, Forrest.

Nines works on adjusting the strings so the hoodie isn’t bunched around his face. “What is with this impractical function?” He tugs the collar to give himself room. “Wait. You wanna eat lunch together, Alice?” He glances away, skittish. “You sure are easier than I thought.”

“What?”

“I just mean, getting you to like me. I thought it’d be a lot harder.”

The audacity of this kid. “I don’t fucking like you. Are you mad?”

“But . . . lunch . . .”

“It’s not a happy lunch!”

He frowns like her words are difficult to process.

He’s definitely messing with her. She spins on her heel. “Don’t think about running away.”

Nines looks around himself. “Run? Where would I go? You sure do say some peculiar things, Alice.”

She says peculiar things?

Oh, he’s so dead.