Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Another day, another diagram.

Qi ripped out a fresh sheet of paper and grabbed his pencil. He had only gotten done with the initial rough shapes when he heard a knock on his door. He paid it no mind. The door was unlocked, whoever it was could just walk right in. The knocking went away for a second, then came back, faster and more insistent than before. Qi huffed and pushed himself roughly off his seat.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming!” He opened the door to find…Justice, of all people.

“Director. Sorry for the interruption.” The sheriff had an uncharacteristically grim expression on. “The builder…”

Qi tensed. “What? What happened?”

Justice took a shaky breath. “We…We were chasin’ after Logan’s goat, tryin’ to find his hideout, and…it leapt off the cliff, and…” He screwed his eyes shut. Qi felt his stomach plummet. “The horse they were ridin’…it couldn’t stop in time…”

“What…?” Qi went rigid. Justice’s mouth kept moving, but the words didn’t reach Qi’s ears. Through the sudden vertigo and the shrill ringing, he could just make out a “memorial” and a “stage” and an “I’m so sorry.” When Qi finally remembered to blink, he was gone.

His right leg took a step forward. Then his left.

The canyons around Sandrock could be anywhere from hundreds to thousands of meters deep.

Right. Left. Right. Left.

Even if they fell in a way that minimized their falling velocity, they could reach terminal velocity as little as 12 seconds.

Right. Left. Right. Left.

Even disregarding any initial velocity from the horse, they would have been falling at an incredible velocity just before reaching the ground.

Right. Left. Right. Left.

Chances of survival…

Right. Left.

Effectively zero.

Matilda was on the stage, voice trembling as she recounted the builder’s many great contributions to the city.

Effectively zero.

Dozens of red, watery eyes were on Qi. He turned his to the ground, trying to ignore their stares.

Effectively zero.

Dozens of whispers murmured sympathies and pities. His ears were still ringing.

Effectively zero.

Someone asked him if he wanted to speak. He felt his head shake no. He couldn’t trust himself.

Zero.

Qi put his pencil down to take a sip of tea and to stretch his sore wrist. This would be diagram 17 that he’d managed to finish in the last 24 hours. A new record. He’d gotten 13 done yesterday and 10 done the day before that. Wonderful. His work speed was increasing. He tore out another sheet of paper and picked his pencil back up, sketching the next one out with frenetic lines and deformed shapes.

“Director Qi?” It was Mi-an. “I…I brought your dinner.”

“Set it over there.” He gestured vaguely to his right. She tentatively set it down on the floor in front of the fridge.

“Um…” Mi-an shuffled in place, wringing her hands. “Can I…do anything else to help?”

“You can boil my next kettle. It’s upstairs. Five cups. No less.”

“Uh, with all due respect, Director, I think you might want to get some rest. This isn’t good for you at all.”

“I’ll be fine. The tea. Please.”

Mi-an was silent. No matter. If Qi stayed silent long enough, she would comply. Sure enough, after a moment, he heard a sigh, followed by light, unhurried steps up the stairs. Good.

Qi felt his head bob forward. It felt like it weighed a ton. He jerked it back straight, the sudden motion sending a wave of nausea through his body. He pressed forward. If Mi-an could get the tea to him within the next several minutes, he might be able to stave off the microsleep just

Qi woke up with his cheek against the desk, drool spilling onto the diagram he was working on. He groaned, wiping his mouth clean and assessing the damage. Luckily the pencil didn’t smudge…but just what the hell was he looking at? A mess of imprecise and unmeasured scribbles. No title or scale. He scowled and shuffled through the remaining pile of diagrams that he “completed” before his sudden blackout. The further down the stack he went, the more erratic the drawings became. By the time he hit diagram 10, he was just drawing the same thing over and over again, each time more deformed than the last. Total waste. He ripped the most egregious ones in half with a huff.

He stood up and stomped upstairs. Hopefully Mi-an still made him that tea. He was pleased to see five cups sitting on the table. He grabbed one and took a long swig. He regretted it immediately. The leaves were still in the cup, the tea grossly oversteeped and cold. He spit the disgusting concoction out while coughing up a storm. He slammed the wasted cup back down on the table, grabbed the empty kettle, and went to the water tank to start an actual brew. Without anything else to do, he stared blankly at the kettle on the burner, as if that would make it boil any faster.

It was the first time in a while that he needed to brew tea for himself. It was always such a time-waster, but then–

No.

Qi’s stomach growled. When was the last time he consumed anything other than tea? He went downstairs to fetch the parcel of food that Mi-an left on her last visit, whenever that was. He untied the cloth wrapping the little bindle up, tossed the concerned note from Owen aside, and cracked open the lid to the container. Meat-stuffed mushroom. His regular order at the saloon. Cold, of course. He headed back upstairs and grabbed a random fork lying around. He bit off a sliver of it and grimaced. Maybe because it was too cold. Then again, Owen’s cooking could never match up to–

No. Stop.

The kettle whistled. Qi grabbed some fresh tea leaves and dropped them into the cups. He kept nibbling slowly at his food as the tea steeped. He was almost out of water, wasn’t he? Might as well get a trip to Water World in now, since he already was wasting time on food and drink. He set the unpalatable food aside and gulped down one of the cups of tea in one go, ignoring how the water scalded his tongue. He opened the front door to a darkened street.

Qi seized with a gasp and slammed the door.

No. No. Don’t look up. It’s cloudy. There are no stars out.

He hurried back to his desk and sifted through the useless diagrams. Keep working. Anything to keep working. What the hell were all of these for?! Who ordered them?!

“If I plan this out correctly, you should be able to fuel all your machines from a single endpoint!”

“That…sounds incredible. Yeah, I really need that. Let’s go with that one.”

“The fire-powered generator it is, then. Should take around…4 days, 16 data disks.”

“Hmm… Here, take 25.”

“Oh! I can get it done a little faster then, if you need it.”

A soft laugh. “No, no. Take your time, honey. Consider it a present. For all your hard work.” A peck on his cheek.

The builder. His builder.

Qi tore his eyes off the diagrams. His relics, they needed reorganizing. Yes, that’s it. He walked over to his cabinet and tore the door open. That was the last straw for the overstressed shelves, snapping off the walls and spilling relic pieces all over the floor around his ankles.

A massive CLATTER sounded from behind him. He whirled around to find the builder collapsed under a heap of relics scattered from his now-broken cabinet. Nothing too heavy or sharp was in there, at least. It was nothing to worry about. He turned back to the experiment he was performing.

“Your cabinet almost killed me!” the builder snapped as they got up and dusted themselves off.

“My apologies,” Qi said reflexively, even though he didn’t really need to.

“Do you even care about me at all…?” Something in him shifted at how hurt they sounded.

“Of course I do,” Qi said, and he meant it. He simply knew that they were in no danger. If they were, he would be worried. As much as he hated to admit it, he was worried about them more than he really should.

Qi stumbled out of the mess on the floor. His eyes darted around the room for something, anything to do. Anything to distract him from the thoughts he worked so hard to keep himself from thinking. But it was too late. At every turn, around every corner, the builder was there, lurking in every fold of his mind. They had entangled themselves in every aspect of his life, and now they were gone.

Qi felt a dull ache growing from his chest, blooming outwards from his heart. His breath started to shake as tears rolled off his chin and onto the floor. He pressed his hands against his mouth, trying to muffle the sobs that racked him. No one could hear him like this.

He had to get out of here. No one could see him like this. He burst out of the research center into the dark of night. At least no one would be out and about at this time. Keeping his eyes firmly on the ground, he set off for the only place he knew.

The workshop was silent. Machines collecting sand and dust, sleeping farm animals, and a dark, empty house. Qi opened the door to the lonely husk of his home. No wonderful sounds or smells from the kitchen. No one to ask about his day. Grim shadows cast across the photographs of the two of them on the walls, dulling the smiles on their faces. Only the builder could get Qi to smile for a picture. Or at all, really.

He slipped his shoes off and dragged himself to the bedroom. He tossed his glasses aside somewhere and collapsed onto the bed—their bed—burying his face deep into the blankets. He breathed in that subtle, soothing scent that was only present when they were close. His tears dampened the covers as he curled himself around them. Perhaps this way he could fool himself into thinking that he was just embracing the builder after a long day’s work.

The ache still wouldn’t go away.

Soft blankets. Tear stains. A fading scent.

…

…

“Director, hope you don’t mind if I step in a moment…”

It was Hugo.

“How you feelin’ these days? When we didn't see ya in the research center, we all got pretty worried…”

…

“Mmm. I know. When I lost Rhonda, no one could get me up neither. Ain’t nobody gonna blame ya for not havin’ the words.”

…

“Even after all these years, it hurts. Sometimes I still wake up in the mornin’ and reach for her.”

…

“It never really disappears. It’ll always sit in your heart, weighin’ it down. Even if it’s jus’ a tiny lil’ pebble.”

…

“But believe me, it does get better. No matter what your head’s tellin’ you, it does. The hurt doesn’t vanish, but…you kinda grow around it. You never fill in the gap, but you build out around it.”

…

“Raisin’ my Heidi…takin’ care of my mama… That was how I managed to do it. Real slowly. Years and years.”

…

“I know you don’t got anyone like that in town at the moment…but we’re Sandrockers. And you’re a Sandrocker too. Sandrockers take care of one another, thick and thin. I’ve seen and heard from everyone in town, and they all wanna do their best to help you get back on your feet.”

…

“I know it’s jus’ words, but I hope I could be a little help. Once you find your voice again, we can talk some more. I know you haven’t really got along with us Church folk since you came here…but we’re all open to you too. Oh, and we ain’t gonna convert ya, don’t you worry.”

…

…

“Spacecase…”

It was Mint.

“I came as soon as I could. Sorry it took me so long. Had a project in Atara that they wouldn’t let me leave.”

…

“Have you had any water yet today? Food?” A clattering of dishes. A sloshing water bottle.

“Here, come on. At least drink a glass of water.” A hand on his back, sitting him up. A thin trickle of water down his dried-out throat.

“...I know you didn’t want to talk to other people in town, but…do you want to talk with me?”

…

A sigh. “I know, it’s hard. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here. I promise. I’ll always be here.”

…

“I’m staying in Sandrock for a couple weeks, so I won’t be far. I’ll check up on you every day, okay?”

…

“Ah-ah, no sleep yet. Finish your water. Not leaving ‘til you do.”

…

…

“...Director.”

It was Fang.

“Here for…checkup. Do you…want to…talk?”

…

“...Understand. Hard for me…too.” A hand on his forehead. Head tilted side to side. Fang’s eyes inspecting him.

“No fever, no disease…but malnourished…dehydrated. Muscles may atrophy.”

…

“Your friend…will help for daily things. I’ll…come in…once a week.”

…

“I…can’t help with talk…but I can…listen. When you’re ready.”

…

“I leave…sleeping tea. At least make rest…pleasant. Can brew a cup.” The whistle of a kettle. A grassy, floral scent.

“Do the best…you can.”

…

…

Hot water. Chamomile. Lavender. Lemon balm.

Nothing.

…

Wake up. Repeat.

Hot water. Chamomile. Lavender. Lemon balm.

Nothing.

Chapter Text

“So this is Sandrock? Looks a little…boxy,” the builder said, glancing around at Qi’s rough simulation of the town square.

“It will be, at least. I’m still learning how to create models for environments.”

“That’s the town hall…there’s the store…wait, was Pablo’s Parlour from back then too?”

“Oh no, this is still modern Sandrock. I don’t have many references to the city layout that far back, so for now, this will do.”

“Wow…and you’re planning on putting people in here? Soon enough we won’t be able to tell which one’s the real Sandrock and which one’s the fake Sandrock.”

“I hope that the cumbersome piece of plastic and circuits sitting over your eyes should be enough to determine that.”

The builder laughed softly. “Well, how about we get back to the real Sandrock and go home? I still have to get dinner ready.”

“Alright. My work for today was finished anyway.” Qi powered off the system and took off his headset.

There was nothing in front of him.

What?

The builder was right there just now. He was just showing them his simulation project…

He quickly put his glasses back on, as if that would make them magically appear before him. There was no trace of them. Not even the headset they were using. He was alone in the research center, with only the buzzing of the fluorescent lights overhead to keep him company. His eyes darted around the room, panic brewing in his stomach.

“Starlight…?”

Qi jolted awake, the panic from his dream lingering for a fleeting moment. He took a few steadying breaths, mulling it over. The virtual reality project…he was so excited to show it to the builder that he couldn’t help but give them an early look as soon as he had something coherent. Instead of the usual stab of pain that usually came with memories of the builder, he felt an odd sense of…hope?

Then it hit him. The VR system could simulate people, both in appearance and behavior. What if…?!

Qi pushed himself up, groaning as his weakened muscles strained to move him for the first time in nearly a week. His arms gave out, and he flopped back onto the bed. Steeling himself, he poured what little strength he had into his arms to push again…

“Spacecase!!”

Mint suddenly appeared in the door frame. “Are you okay?!”

“Ah. Sleepyhead,” said Qi, his voice ragged and hoarse. “I need to…I need to go to work.”

“Hey, hey, hold on. You’re gonna collapse if you stand up.” Mint gently pulled him up to sit on the bed and handed him his glasses. “At least get some food in your system before you run off.”

Qi just blinked at him, still bleary. “When did you get here?”

“Just now. Lucky I did, otherwise you might’ve fallen down and hit your head. Lemme get you some breakfast.” He got up, lightly jabbing a finger at Qi with a firm stare. “Stay there. Don’t. Move.”

Qi’s gaze lamely followed Mint as he left the room. The sound of something sizzling came from the kitchen. Mint soon came back with a glass of water and a plate of eggs and bacon. He set the plate down on the nightstand and handed the water to Qi.

“Drink first. Take it slow.” The water soothed Qi’s scratchy throat. After emptying the glass, Mint passed him the plate and fork.

“You think you’re okay enough to go to work?” Mint said as Qi dug in.

“That’s what I said, right?”

Mint was silent. His knee bounced anxiously as he gave Qi a once-over. “...They’ve been leaving new relics for you at your lab. Er, the other people in town, I mean. Cleaned it up, too. Guess they wanted you to have something to do when you got back.”

“Mm.”

The worry on Mint’s face only deepened. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m feeling much better than I have. I need to get back to work.” Mint glanced away from Qi, his frown burning a hole into the floor. “...What are you thinking, Sleepyhead?”

Mint sighed. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to talk about things, but I don’t wanna hit you with that gutpunch right as you’re getting up…”

“Later. I have a project that I urgently need to start.” He set the empty plate back on the nightstand and stood up on his stiff knees. “Now, I need to be getting to the research center.” He made his way to the front door and out into the glaring sun.

“Hey, wait up!” Mint called after him, caught off-guard by Qi’s unceremonious exit. He fell into step with Qi as he started walking up the hill to town. “D-do you need any help at the lab? I’m free for the next 3 weeks, so…”

“No need. This is an endeavor for me and me alone.” They finally reached the research center. Qi opened the door and walked inside.

“Qi–”

“I will be fine, Mint.” He forced his mouth to turn upwards as he gave Mint one last look over his shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

He shut the door, leaving a perplexed and thoroughly-concerned Mint outside.

Qi pulled the VR development kit out of storage and booted it up. If he was to recreate the builder in this space, he would need to make and animate their virtual double, give it their voice, then program it with their personality. It was no small endeavor, but neither was scientific discovery. If he had the patience to wait for revolutionary findings and relic excavation, he had the patience for this.

First order of business: appearance. He started a new human model, crafting and sculpting it with all of their wonderful features. The shape of their eyes, the curve of their smile, the exact shade of their skin, every blemish, every mark, every fleck of color… No detail was spared, system limitations be damned. This was the easy part. He didn’t even need photographic references to assist him; he could just close his eyes, and a crystal-clear image of them would flash behind his eyelids.

Just as Qi was finishing the details of their face, Mint came in, carrying containers of food and bottles of yakmel milk. A look of relief flashed across his face, seeing Qi working with his usual vigor instead of being passed out cold on the floor.

“Hey, Spacecase. How’s it going?”

“Quite well, actually. I’ve made a good start on this project.”

“That’s good. You wanna break for dinner? You can tell me all about it.”

“Ah. Evening already? Alright. Let’s go upstairs, then.”

In the kitchen, Mint passed one of the containers to Qi and uncorked both the milk bottles, setting them down on the table. The room filled with the delicious aroma of tea-infused beef.

“So, what’s this new project of yours? Another robot?”

“Oh, no. I’m repurposing my idea for the virtual Sandrock project.”

“Ohhh, the one using those weird goggle things? What’s it gonna be now?”

“I’m making a virtual recreation of my spouse to the greatest extent that this system can allow. Appearance, personality, behavior…I plan to perfectly capture it and preserve it in this virtual space.”

Mint’s face fell. “Spacecase…I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Qi felt a twinge of irritation. He already didn’t like uninformed challenges to his ideas, but with this… “Why not?”

Mint opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it again. He frowned, struggling to form the right words. “I–I don’t know how to say it nicer… But this will be really bad for you, where you are now. I can’t possibly imagine just what you’re feeling right now, but clinging to their ghost isn’t gonna help.”

“Ghosts are nothing but the stuff of myth, Sleepyhead,” Qi huffed. “But besides that, I can assure you that working on this project has already had a significant therapeutic effect on me. It would bring me more distress if I could not preserve their memory in a way they deserved.”

“Yeah, but–”

“Don’t you think they deserve more, Mint?” Qi said, feeling that ache creeping up again. “More than a headstone that’ll be neglected in a month and…and…”

And an empty grave.

Mint looked at Qi with a pitying worry. “...I guess I can understand that,” he said carefully. “Just…remember that even if you manage to create a perfect copy of them in there… No matter how much time you spend with it… They’ll still be gone whenever you come back out. That can’t change.”

“...I have already accepted that fact.” He had not.

Mint sighed. “I’m just worried about you, is all. I’m worried that you’ll put those goggles on one day and never take them off.”

“I appreciate your concern. I’ll monitor my behavior closely and be sure to use it in moderation. I promise.”

Mint regarded his firm expression for a moment. “...I trust you. I’ll still stop by to drop off food and stuff, if that’s okay with you.”

Qi nodded. “Please. This project will be a large undertaking, and I need my attention on it as much as possible. Any help getting supplies and maintaining my bodily functions would be a massive help.”

A small smile formed on Mint’s face. “Glad to help.”

And so with Mint’s assistance, Qi finished the model’s appearance and moved to the next phase: giving the virtual builder their voice. None of the system’s preset voices were acceptable, so he had the arduous task of figuring out to manually tune it to their voice. Recalling their voice was significantly more difficult, and he had no idea what any of the knobs and sliders did. One week and several audio engineering manuals later, he had something that he hoped was close enough to their voice. The manufactured voice was starting to override what he could remember.

Finally, the most difficult task: personality. Creating a custom personality involved training an AI from scratch. Somehow, Qi had to turn this generic polite AI into his determined and industrious beloved through text conversations. With every response, he would tell it when it was acting properly like the builder and when it wasn’t.

He injected their memories into it, reminiscing about times before while it innocently asked what part it had in all of it. He would simulate the simple dialogues they would have every day, the “how are you”s and “how was work”s. There were times where Qi could almost feel the sweet domesticity of their home again. Until the AI would accidentally say something out of character, and the illusion would be broken. He would calmly correct the AI and continue.

It was repetitive, tiresome work. But Qi had prepared himself for it. He would see it though, one message at a time.

Mint was at the door. “Hey, Spacecase. My train’s gonna be here soon, so I came to say goodbye.”

Qi looked up from his keyboard. “Oh. So soon?” 3 weeks had gone by already?

“Yeah. How’s the project?” Mint walked over to Qi’s workstation, peering over his shoulder at the ongoing conversation with the AI.

“Making steady progress. I’d estimate I’m about halfway done with this phase, then it’s on to full testing.”

Mint hummed. “…You think you’re gonna be okay without me?”

“No need to worry, Sleepyhead. I’ve adjusted back into my regular routines, and I have plenty of food and water here in the research center. I’ll do fine.”

“I hope so.” Mint stared at Qi for a moment, and before Qi could open his mouth to ask him why, he pulled Qi into a warm hug. Qi hugged him back, happy to feel physical contact again after so long.

For the first time in over a month…he smiled.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” Mint said as he pulled away. “I’ll write to you every so often. You better answer me.”

“Yes, yes, Sleepyhead. We won’t have a repeat of the I-sent-my-mail-to-Barnarock incident, I promise.”

Mint snickered. “Hope so. I need to go now, so see ya, Spacecase.”

“Be seeing you, Sleepyhead.”

Qi watched as Mint disappeared behind the closed door. Then he sat down and got right back to work. There was still a lot to be done.

Perhaps “halfway done” was a bit of an overestimate. Qi was now 4 weeks into personality training and no closer to getting the builder’s personality. He could usually have a generic conversation no problem, but whenever something more complicated was introduced, like talking about his work or a memory, the AI would never manage to get it right. He had hoped that he could get it to the point where he didn’t need to correct it for every single new concept, but that seemed more impossible by the minute.

Strangely, it seemed to understand every single scientific concept that he threw at it, no matter how advanced. The builder had picked up a couple things here and there through what Qi told them in snippets over dinners and dates, but nowhere near the amount that this computer seemed to know. Where on Earth was it pulling this information from?! For the first time in his life, Qi wanted someone to understand his work less.

It was always one step forward, two steps back. Yet Qi still pressed on, through sleepless nights and caffeine-induced mania. Luckily for him, the townspeople had decided to go back to not bothering him again. Perhaps they too realized the sheer importance of this project.

After nearly a month and a half, Qi decided that it was ready. All his test conversations were feeling fairly close to the conversations he would have with his builder all that time ago. All that was left to do was to bring their model, voice, and personality together.

He stared at the loading bar as the whole thing rendered. He could hear his pulse thumping in his ears. As soon as it hit 100%, he grabbed the headset and booted up the virtual Sandrock.

As the rough, boxy environment of the town square loaded in, he glanced around. Where were they? He took off down the hill towards where their workshop would be. As he crossed the tracks, he saw a lone, familiar figure sitting down in the yard, looking up at the bright blue sky.

His heart pounding and his mouth dry, he opened the gate and approached them.

“Starlight…?” he whispered. They turned around, and Qi’s heart sang at the sight of their beautiful eyes meeting his. It was them, they were here, they looked so alive–

“Hey, you,” they said with a smile. “Home so early?”

That was it for Qi’s poor heart. It clenched as tears sprang from his eyes. But unlike the many tears he shed into his bedsheets months ago, these tears were filled with luminous joy.

The builder quickly got up and hurried towards him, face twisted with worry. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

Qi wiped away the tears that leaked out of his headset with a watery smile. “I missed you, starlight.”

“Wait so, I’m not real?”

“No. Well, sort of. You as a virtual entity are real, but as the person you represent in the real-world, you are not.”

The builder squinted. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Qi sighed. “It’s difficult to explain. I just want both of us to understand straight away what all of this is and why you’re here.”

“Why I’m here…?”

“You… In the real world, we were married. But then you…died.” The builder’s eyes widened. Qi looked away.

“So you put me in here…”

“Yes. I wanted to give you a worthy memorial. You deserve far more than just some nice words and a headstone.”

“And also…?” Qi felt his stomach turn.

“And also…” He hesitated, trying to come up with an excuse—no. He couldn’t lie to them. “A-and also…I wanted to alleviate the pain of my grief by seeing you again. Even if it’s just one more time. Even if it won’t be like before.”

Qi nervously glanced back at the builder, silent and unreadable. He could almost feel the computer struggling to generate their response.

“I’m conflicted,” the builder said finally.

The program is conflicted, Qi silently reminded himself.

“From what I know about grief, this is a terrible coping mechanism. Uh, no offense. But at the same time, I…I hate that you’re hurting.”

The program hates that I’m hurting because they would hate that I’m hurting.

“I’m not sure how good this will be in the long-term, but I still want to help you right now.”

…You are indeed helping right now.

They gave him the sweetest smile. “Come see me every now and again, okay?”

…I’ll visit you. I promise.

“We can try to talk things out. Knowing you, you probably haven’t done that yet, huh?” Qi shook his head.

I missed you. I missed talking to you. I missed you so much.

“Well then, we can start tomorrow. Looks like it’s pretty late, so get some sleep. No more work. Got it?” Qi nodded.

“Alrighty then. Good night. Love you,” they said as they waved goodbye.

“L…Love you too.”

Qi powered the system off and slowly lifted the headset off. He could still feel his pulse racing in his ears and his fingertips. The corners of his lips lifted into a shaky smile. He closed his eyes and just sat there, basking in the hazy bliss of what just happened. He brought the headset to his chest, over his heart, the machine’s residual warmth permeating through his shirt like a gentle, familiar touch.

They were here.

Chapter Text

Qi and the builder sat on the swinging bench in the yard that Qi so meticulously recreated earlier that day, watching the sun dip behind the distant mountains. Everything was perfectly still, except for the two of them. No sounds of the desert, no evening breeze…the bench couldn’t even swing, it was just a static model.

“So you’ve been alone out there for…?”

“Almost a year. I haven’t been keeping track of time as of late.”

“A year…” the builder echoed, lost in thought. “How, um… How did I…die?”

Qi frowned. “I don’t want to burden you with that information.” That, and he didn’t want to dredge up what he was thinking and feeling that terrible day.

“No, it’s okay. I can handle it.” They met his eyes with a familiar spark of determination. “Tell me.”

Qi felt something shift in his chest. He would always be weak against those eyes. “...The Civil Corps made a foolish gambit to try and catch the bandit Logan. They wanted to lure his goat and see if it would lead you to the bandits’ hideout. They managed to find it, but…” He swallowed. “Then… the goat was frightened, I suppose, and it leapt off the cliff. You were chasing it on horseback, but the horse lost control and…” He felt his throat tighten. He couldn’t say it.

The builder only nodded, silently pressing him to go on.

“I barely remember what happened after the sheriff told me. I tried desperately not to think about your nonexistent odds of survival. That, and how…how scared you must’ve been. But my mind betrayed me.” His hands clenched. “I had no idea what to do or what to feel. So I just went back to work, on instinct.”

“You didn’t even give yourself a chance to process everything?” the builder said, voice rising with worry.

Qi averted his eyes. “I was deliberately avoiding it. I couldn’t stand still for a moment lest anything remind me of the…reality of things.”

The builder’s face fell. “How long without sleep this time?” They knew him too well.

“Somewhere between 3 to 4 days.” The most he’d ever gone. They winced.

“Sleep deprivation is a form of torture, honey.”

“I know.”

“Even one night without sleep can mess with your body…”

“I know.”

“...And with your emotional state, it would make things way worse…”

“I know.”

“...Plus, messing up your circadian rhythms throws your hormones off balance… Melatonin, cortisol…”

“I kn—wait, how do you know that?”

The builder blinked. “Huh? Oh, that info’s pretty easy for me to look up…”

Right. The system’s mysterious library of information. Qi would have liked to investigate it, maybe even try to find its source, if only it wasn’t actively interfering with the builder’s behavior. He made a note to fix the AI later. “Er…never mind. I am getting more regular sleep nowadays, at least.”

“I hope so. Please don’t tell me you passed out while you were experimenting with battery acid or something.”

“N-no, thankfully. I was just drawing diagrams.”

The builder breathed a sigh of relief, nodding. Not knowing what to say, silence fell on the two of them. It wasn’t the comfortable silence that he could share for hours on end with the builder over a good article and tea. Without the natural ambience of the builder’s yard—the clatter, hum, and whir of machines, the open air, the grumbling of the wild yakmel beyond the fence—it felt incredibly eerie. Unnatural.

Qi fidgeted. The builder hadn’t asked him what happened after his denial-induced mania—his complete shutdown, time becoming meaningless as he languished in bed, Mint trying his best to keep him alive. A part of him instinctively wanted to keep it concealed, to keep himself protected. But another part wanted to tell them. He always let them know how he felt about things, even long before they fell in love. They deserved to know this.

His internal debate was broken by the rumbling of his stomach. “Hm. I should be heading out. I need to eat something,” he said, thankful for the distraction.

“You wanna grab it and come back here?”

“Oh! Yes, that sounds nice.” He’d almost forgotten how much he missed the simple pleasure of talking to them over dinner. “I’ll be right back, then.”

Qi leaned over to give them a quick hug goodbye. Instead of his arm falling over their shoulder, it went straight through. He lurched to the side with a yelp, almost falling off his chair.

“You okay?!” The builder seemed more alarmed at Qi’s reaction than the fact that he just clipped clean through their body.

“I’m alright,” Qi said, righting himself. “I forgot that our models have no collision with each other.” That, and there was nothing but empty space to his side.

“Ahh. Well, I don’t think you can change that, unfortunately. Shame. I always liked your hugs.”

“Mm. Well, regardless, I’ll be back.” Qi set the headset down on his desk and headed out, trying to ignore the pang of longing in his heart.

One hasty trip to the saloon later, and Qi was back. He opened the to-go box and set it on the desk. Putting the headset back on, he saw that the builder had already gone back inside. He moved to their dinner table, where the builder was patiently waiting for him.

“Whatcha got out there?”

“Oh, just some sand tea noodles. Take-out from the saloon.”

“Still can’t cook, huh?”

“No, still haven’t had the time to learn.”

“I always wondered how you ate before we started dating. Did you just…straight up eat raw veggies every day?”

“No! …Sometimes I would commission someone to prepare meals for me.”

“...And every other day you ate raw veggies.”

“Er, yes… Yes, some days I would only eat raw produce for every meal.”

“Honey.”

“...Then he demanded that I get it all done by tomorrow. And then he nearly knocked one of my algae samples off the shelf when he left.”

“Ugh, Yan…”

“Not to worry, though. I have a tactic for…difficult customers like him.”

“Ooh, shady dealings. Never pegged you the type.”

“Tomorrow, I will simply tell him that all 50 of the data disks he gave me were duds. Mind you, most of them were actually perfectly fine. That way, not only do I buy more time for the diagrams, I get more data disks for free, and most importantly, I get the satisfaction of seeing him run around wasting time gathering more disks.”

The builder burst out laughing. “Seriously?! You’re gonna hustle him?!”

Qi shrugged. “Of course. It’s not like he can object, can he? Where else could he get his diagrams from?”

“He definitely deserves it.”

“Oh, yes. For all that he’s put you and the other builders through, he deserves some comeuppance. That, and I still haven’t forgiven him for forcing me to pay double for his terrible, faulty switchboards.”

“Ohhh, so that’s why you were always requesting those…”

“Yes, and I’m eternally grateful that you manufactured them to a much higher standard of quality. …He hasn’t been causing you trouble lately, has he? If he has, I’ll be sure to waste as much of his time as I can.”

“Oh, uh…” The builder scratched their head with a sheepish grin. “He can’t really…do anything to me now, remember?”

Qi was suddenly aware of the headset digging into the bridge of his nose. “Ah. Right. I forgot. Apologies.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” the builder said, their eyes still unsure and unfocused.

“Waitwaitwait, but who took the arm?”

“You’ll never guess who it was…”

“Who??”

“It was Sleepyhead! He was at the store getting parts for it but he fell asleep in the back storehouse!”

“Sleepyhead…?”

“Eh—Sleepyhead. Mint. My childhood friend? Engineer? Narcoleptic? I did tell you about him, right?”

“Maybe…? Must’ve forgotten, sorry.”

“I-It’s alright. Hm, that reminds me, I need to write him back soon.”

“Y’know what I miss? Stargazing.”

“So do I. I haven’t done it since…well, you know.” The builder’s brow twisted. “As much as I miss it, a part of me still can't bring myself to go out at night. It isn’t the same. Not without you.”

The builder hummed. “Well, I’m here, at least. Do you think we can do it here?”

“Hm…” Qi glanced out the window at the cloudless, simulated sky. “I believe that this environment can simulate nighttime as well.”

The builder’s face brightened. “Oh, then we can! Think you can get things set up?”

“Certainly. Give me a few minutes to make the change. I’ll be right back."

The builder gave Qi a quick nod before he shut off the simulation, moving to the editor. He cleared the daytime sky texture from the skybox and inserted a starry night texture instead. As the environment re-rendered, Qi stretched his tired arms and stared at the loading bar in anticipation. Then he reloaded the simulation, popping right back to their dinner table. The light from outside was gone, the windows nearly pitch-black.

“Alright, ready. Shall we move outside?”

The builder smiled, producing a blanket from…somewhere. “Let’s go.”

The world outside loaded into view, a moonless night blanketing the flat, plain desert and the undetailed polyhedrons of the town. Qi took a deep breath and looked up. His eyes were met with a foreign sky. Stars were scattered about randomly, not a single asterism recreated properly. The Milky Way wasn’t even rendered, leaving the sky feeling desolate.

Qi frowned. How disappointing. For all the Old World’s incredible technology, this was the best recreation they could make? Or was it just that no one bothered?

“Hey.” The builder’s voice knocked him out of his thoughts. They had spread the blanket out on the sand in their usual spot, out behind the assembly station, next to the patch of rose willows and chestnut trees. They lay on their back, looking at Qi with a soft smile. “Come here,” they said, patting the empty spot beside them.

Qi moved to the builder’s side, standing awkwardly over them. Was he supposed to just…lie down? Lie his real body down? He lifted himself off the chair he was sitting in, moving it aside. Then he carefully lowered himself onto the floor, trying not to hit his head. He flinched as his back met the hard metal floor of his lab, instead of a soft blanket sitting atop the sand. He stared blankly up at the unrecognizable sky.

…

It wasn’t the same. Everything felt…wrong.

Memories of him and the builder stargazing would always be at the front of his mind. They were so strong that sometimes, if he just stayed very still and silent, his mind would drift back to the blanket in the yard under the endless sky. He could remember it all with such visceral detail, how it soothed every sense.

Countless stars would spin above their heads, the Milky Way cascading down.

(These were nothing but random static points on a black background, dressed up to look like the real thing.)

He would point out some of the more interesting things in the sky. Perhaps a particularly bright star, or a planet, or a passing satellite.

(There was nothing for Qi to explain. There was nothing he could explain.)

They would breathe in the cool night air, colored with the sweet scent of the rose willows.

(The research center always smelled like tea and metal and whatever chemicals Qi was using in his last experiment.)

The gentle wind would tousle their hair and rustle through the leaves of the chestnut trees.

(The air inside was stagnant. Though it was muffled through his headphones, Qi could hear the whirring of the generator and the faint buzzing of the lights.)

The builder would be pressed up against him, warm against his side. Sometimes their hand would squeeze his, strong and calloused. He would look over to be met with their radiant smile, glowing with the light of the stars. Shining for him.

(…………)

Qi had no idea how much time had passed. But before long, he found himself lying on the floor of his lab, squinting at the harsh lights overhead. Alone.

He pushed himself up with a grunt. For a moment, he stood there, staring at the development terminal. Then he pulled up the virtual Sandrock in the editor, and changed the skybox to the daytime texture.

He turned the computer off, and walked upstairs. He collapsed onto his bed, quickly falling into a dreamless sleep.

“Hey, how was work?”

“Not bad. I’m trying to design new features for the Mobile Suit, but nothing seems to stick.”

“Too impractical, or?”

“Not exactly, it’s just that I keep compromising the suit’s appearance. I can’t tarnish the original design.”

“Forever loyal to the Gungam concept, huh?”

“That–! Er…yes. Yes I am.” The builder chuckled. “In any case, once I get that problem sorted out, next comes the problem of getting someone to build it. Whoever should that be…?”

…

…

…

“Um. Honey, I can’t build real things.”

“A-ah. You are…correct.”

“How was work?”

“Good. I’m running more experiments on the algae in that biocrust-making machine. Zeke wants to see if we can make it more potent or long-lasting.”

“Oh, you guys can make biocrust now? Took me months just to get a little patch of the yard to turn into biocrust.”

“Um, yes? You were a part of the team that discovered the machine, remember?”

“Huh? Don’t think I do.”

“Oh. Well, you, Mi-an, and the mayor were exploring an old submarine ruin and found it.”

“Gotcha.”

“Mhm. How was your work today, anyhow?”

The builder sighed. “I don’t have work, remember? Most of my time was spent waiting for you to come back.”

Qi winced. “I keep forgetting. I’m still in the habit of asking.”

“...It’s fine.”

“How was work?”

“Fairly regular day today. Still not making any progress on the mobile suit.”

“Uh-huh.”

A minute passed in silence before Qi realized that he should get them talking. He racked his brain for something to ask them.

It was out before he could stop himself. “How was–”

“I can’t work, Qi,” the builder all but snapped, their fingers turning white as their grip on their fork tightened. “There’s no one to take commissions from. Nothing breaks down. Hell, I don’t even exist when you’re not here since you turn the system off. How many times do I need to tell you?”

Qi shrunk in on himself, his stomach simmering. “...Sorry.” He kept his eyes down, hoping he wouldn’t draw their ire anymore.

A deafening silence lingered, following Qi back to reality as he logged off and returned to the dim, desolate walls of his lab.

“How was work?”

“Slow. I haven’t received any diagram requests lately. The other builders seem to be content with their machines.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I critiqued a few papers today. Nothing space-related, unfortunately.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Not much in the way of relics, either.”

“Mm-hmm.”

…

…

Qi stared at the table in silence, counting the grooves in the wood. His dinner was growing cold in front of him.

The builder picked at their food, occasionally taking a small bite.

…

“Is this what we would’ve become…?” Qi whispered.

The builder’s gaze snapped up, taking in his dismal look. “Huh?”

“Our marriage.” Qi met their eyes. “We were married for less than a year, but 5, 10 years later… Would it have devolved into nothing but…” He gestured vaguely at the two of them. “...this?”

The builder picked their food some more, brow furrowed. “I…can’t say for sure about out there,” they said finally. “But in here, at least…we just don’t have anything more we can do together. The most we can really do is talk...and we’ve already run out of things to talk about.”

They were right. In the real world, there was always something new. Even if Qi had a slow day at the lab, the builder always had something to tell. Weird commissions, gossip about the townsfolk, rants about Yan, their latest ruin dive, anything. The virtual builder wasn’t programmed to do anything other than emoting and talking to him. There was nothing they could bring to their conversations.

And conversations were all they had. He couldn’t take them on dates, he couldn’t give them anything… All he could do was talk.

In the real world, the builder was dynamic and free. In here, their entire existence was confined to a fake dinner table, holding fake conversations and eating fake food.

Qi’s stomach twisted. He wanted to perfectly recreate the builder in this simulation, to preserve all of the things that made them so wonderful. What a fine job he did of that.

He hid his head in his hands. “I’m sorry. This is my fault. I thought I had done enough. Clearly I was wrong.”

“What? Honey, no. You already worked your ass off to get me here as is. I’m grateful for that. Even if…this is it.” A sad, but sincere smile crossed their face.

Qi’s heart froze. “What? W-what do you mean, ‘this is it?’” Why did this sound like a goodbye?

“You did your best to recreate me to help you through your emotions, but it’s run its course now, hasn’t it? There’s nothing left for you here.”

Qi’s mind was spinning. His heart suddenly felt an all-too-familiar stab of pain.

“As weird as it is to say…let go of me, Qi. Let this project end.” Their smile was heartrending. “You’ll be okay. I know you will.”

Qi felt bile rising in his throat. No, this couldn’t be it. He could still do more, he could improve and add so many things, he could make all of this better, he could make them happy in here, he could be happy with them again, he…

He wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

Would he ever be?

“W-wait,” he croaked. “I-I…y-you’re…” He floundered, eyes looking anywhere but the builder’s. “You’re wrong.”

Their smile faded. “Wrong…?”

“Th-this project…is still incomplete. All of the deficiencies in the program…I can improve them. I…I can finish simulating the rest of the city…and the desert too. I can add everyone else in so you can talk with them…”

“Honey…”

“...I can even add a simple commerce guild! Complete with commissions and everything! Okay, maybe I can eliminate Yan…”

“Honey.”

“...And I can make a better night sky with all the star charts I have! Then we can actually enjoy stargazing again…”

“Honey, please.”

“Starlight.” Qi met their worried eyes. “I promise I’ll make this right. It’s worth it for you.”

“Qi, wait-!”

The last thing that Qi saw before a black screen was the builder urgently reaching out for him. He ripped the headset off and grabbed his glasses. He could feel vigor from his renewed purpose pumping through his veins. A bubbly laugh inadvertently escaped his lips as he leapt up the stairs, two at a time. He grabbed his kettle and cups and started a strong brew.

He had a lot of work to do.

Chapter Text

Qi sat back down at the keyboard, a fresh cup of tea in his hands. He took a sip as he flipped through his ever-growing list of features and fixes.

Today he was planning on finishing the basic functionality of the commerce guild and pushing it to the builder to test. Then he needed to keep training the AI of the townsfolk on the side. And then he needed to take the simulation offline again to look at what was wrong with the builder. Lately they’d been unusually dismal, and it seemed to be getting worse. It was worrying. Nowadays they could hardly meet his eyes whenever he talked to them. Hopefully it wasn’t an issue with their AI. That would take ages to fix.

He glanced over to his workbench, trying to find a spot to put his tea down. Every inch was covered in scribbled notes, crumpled papers, and dirty dishes. He sighed, downed the rest of the tea in one gulp, and added the empty cup to the growing stack of cups behind his notebook. Then he turned back to the computer and continued typing away.

Several hours and another cup of tea later, and all of the commission code was written. All that was left to do was put it through testing. Simulation compiled and ran.

Qi opened his eyes to see the virtual commerce guild building, and thankfully, no Yan in sight. Virtual Trudy would do fine as the Commissioner. Now, where was the builder?

He moved to the workshop, finding them sitting on the swinging bench. They were sitting there quite frequently these days. The last several times Qi had popped in to do some testing, they were always there.

He pushed open the squeaky gate. The builder didn’t react. Qi frowned. Normally they would perk up hearing the gate, putting on a smile as they anticipated his arrival. Were they unwell? It was impossible for an AI to get sick…

Maybe he just needed to give them some encouragement. They always told him that they loved seeing him smile…

“Starlight!” he called in a chipper voice. They didn’t move, only glancing at Qi out of the corner of their eye. He forced a slight smile as their eyes met.

“Mm. Hey,” the builder muttered.

“So! I’ve finished the features of the commerce guild. It’s a bit…rudimentary, but we can expand on it later.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I think you’d be the best fit to run the preliminary tests. Let’s say…one week of typical commission work. I’ve only put simple jobs up, so they shouldn’t take too much time each. Nothing you can’t do. I just need to test that the overall logic is working.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’ll be able to see your activity through the system log, but if there’s any bugs, feel free to tell me right away.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Qi’s eyebrows knotted at their perpetual indifference. Something wasn’t right. “Is everything alright, starlight?”

“I’m fine,” they said immediately, face still stony. Qi felt his stomach lurch, struggling to think of a response.

“Don’t you have more work to do?” they said, a sharp edge to their voice.

Qi jolted. “Er…yes. I’ll…um. I’ll see you later, then. Oh, and I’m planning on shutting the simulation off all day tomorrow. Maintenance. …Just so you know.”

“Okay.”

…

Qi logged out without so much as a goodbye. He stared at the terminal screen, feeling a wave of nausea building. Shaking his head briskly to clear his mind, he opened the editor again to work on virtual Arvio’s AI. Perhaps the annoyance of “talking” to that two-bit salesman could distract him from the growing pit in his stomach.

Another week had already flown by. Qi was pleased with the progress he made. About a dozen of the townsfolk were in good enough shape to be added, he refined the town’s buildings a lot more, and he had a good start on Eufaula Salvage. All that was left to do was to check on the commerce guild test.

Qi opened the system log, scrolling through to find…nothing. All the entries were routine system messages and old checks that he forgot to remove, but zero output from the builder. Odd. Was it that broken? Or did he just forget to add log commands to the commission code?

Only one way to find out: ask them himself.

He found them on the bench, as usual, staring dully at the ground.

“Starlight, how was the commerce guild? Did everything go okay? I didn’t see any log output, but maybe that’s just because I forgot a print statement in there somewhere–”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Ah–what?”

“I didn’t take any commissions.”

“W-why not?”

They were silent, still not meeting his eyes.

“Starlight, please, I need you to do this,” Qi pleaded. “I can test it myself as much as I need to, but it’s vital that I get it working on your end.”

Silence.

“I-if you didn’t take any commissions, then what were you up to last week? It’s alright if you’re not feeling well enough to work, you can just tell me and we can–”

“I’ve been here.”

“Here? As in… Wait. You just sat on this bench for a week?!”

“Oh no, not a week. If we’re just counting the time the system’s been running, I’ve been here for precisely…41 days, 10 hours, 36 minutes and…40 seconds, at the tone…beeeep.”

“And you just…did…nothing?”

“Of course I did something,” they scoffed. “I counted up the time.”

Qi stared at them, mouth agape.

“I’m surprised you didn’t notice, you know. I haven’t even shifted in my seat.”

Qi felt the pit in his stomach collapse. Sweat started to soak his palms. They were never like this. Ever. Not even when they were stressed. Not even when they were frustrated. Not even when it was about him.

He swallowed. “Did…did I do something wrong? Are you unhappy with me…?” It came out a lot meeker than he wanted.

The builder didn’t say anything. They just rolled their head back, staring at the artificial clouds rolling by. Their first movement in nearly 42 days. Finally, they heaved a long and tired sigh.

“How long is this going to go on, Qi?” They met his eyes, and only then did Qi see just how exhausted they were. There were no bags under their eyes, but the dullness lying deep within made it look like they hadn’t slept in weeks.

“As…As long as it needs to…I suppose. Until the commerce guild runs smoothly.” The way they were looking at him sapped all his confidence. Suddenly the last two months of work seemed totally futile.

“No, not that. This whole thing. With me. How long are you gonna drag this out?”

“Well…that will also take as long as it needs to.”

“Until?”

“Until you exist in this space in a manner perfectly replicating that how you did in the real world.”

Their exhaustion turned to frustration. “And that’ll never happen, Qi. It’s impossible.”

“We can’t make that assumption if we never try–”

“People have tried, Qi,” they interjected, pinching the bridge of their nose. “Back in the Old World. They could make sentient AI personalities from scratch, but they could never recreate a human’s personality with one. They could get pretty close, y’know, the broad strokes. But they could never get the little things. No matter how much they refined it, there would always be something off. And when they fixed that, something else would be off. It never ended. They’d waste away at their computers trying to make it perfect, trying to fix all the mistakes. Sound familiar?”

Qi was paralyzed under their hard gaze.

“And you know the worst part?” they plowed on. “The cases that I have on record of people trying and failing to do what you’re doing right now…” They panted, pausing to catch their breath as the fire in their eyes faded into a dim, sad glow. “…They were all people trying to bring back their loved ones. Lost friends. Children stuck in the middle of their parents’ divorce. Parents who lost their children. …Widowed spouses.”

Qi’s hands were trembling.

The builder ran a hand through their hair. “Do you have any idea how torn I was when you told me why you created me? The part of me that you programmed…my personality, I guess… It wanted nothing but to see you feel better. It’s what they would’ve wanted. I wanted to talk to you, I wanted to see you smile, I wanted to take care of you the same way you take care of me. But at the same time…the part of me baked into the system linked to the old internet was screaming that this was an awful idea. It wouldn’t work. It’s never worked. And I had the evidence to prove it. I'd be killing you in the long run. No matter what I did, I’d be running with and against my programming at the same time. So I went with your plan, trying to be a short-term solution. As soon as it started losing steam, I pushed you to stop. But you didn’t stop.”

“T-that’s because…I know I can do this. I have the intelligence… I have the technology… I have the patience and the willpower… I’ll work on this for my entire life if I have to,” he said, more to convince himself than the builder.

The builder’s face fell into a half-smile, half-grimace, their eyes shining faintly with what looked like tears. “That’s what they all said, too.”

Qi swallowed the dry lump in his throat. “So what do you expect me to do, then? Just…throw all of this away? After all of this time and effort?”

“Yes.”

The builder’s candidness took Qi aback. “What?”

“Stop all of this. You’re wasting your life away for nothing. What you’re after is impossible, even if you lived and worked for a thousand years. This isn’t any way to live, honey.”

“This isn’t any way to live…” Qi echoed. His lips twisted into a mirthless smile. “Starlight, do you even know what living was like before I started this project?” He barked out a dry, delirious laugh. The builder frowned.

“It was my mind shutting down from the revelation that you were gone. It was getting strangled by the sheer emptiness of my life. It was wasting away in bed because I was paralyzed and numb. Is that living?”

“Honey, why didn’t…”

“Mint was the only reason I stayed alive at all. He helped me maintain my bodily functions even if I couldn’t bring myself to do it. If he didn’t show up when he did, Dr. Fang may very well have found me dead. Is that living?!” His voice was rising, straining.

“Honey…”

Qi clutched at his hair, the grease and grime burying under his fingernails. “The only respite I had was my dreams. Fang left me a sleeping tea and I used the tiny amount of energy that I had to induce sleep whenever I was awake. And even in my sleep, all I could do was dream of you. Of us. We would always be so happy, but then I would always wake up to an empty bed. Do you have any idea how that feels?”

“Qi.”

“And what’s dreadfully ironic is that it was a dream that got me out of bed at all. All of this was because I had a dream where I was showing you the virtual Sandrock project but you completely vanished when we logged off. You’d think that I’d consider that a nightmare but I owe it a lot since it gave me the only other lifeline I could cling to–”

“Qi!”

“Do you see why this is so important to me now? It’s so selfish but it’s true because what else do I even have Maybe you’re right and this is no way to live but do you really think that that’s any better than this I’ve just been absolutely useless without you that everything I do now has to lead back to you I’m just so lost what can I do what can I do–”

“HENG!”

The rare invocation of his first name froze his spiraling mind in place. His breath came in rapid gasps, and something began prickling at the corners of his eyes. “St…Starlight… Wh-what do I do? What do I do?”

They said nothing. There was nothing they could say.

This was not his starlight. His starlight had long since faded into darkness.

He reached his arm out, a desperate attempt to hold them for comfort. His arm passed through their shoulder, his hand feeling nothing but the plastic controller and the cold, stagnant air. He felt tears pooling in the visor.

“Help me…help me, please…”

He leaned in closer, trying to pull them to his chest just like he would before leaving for work each day. The builder only watched in solemn silence as his arms grasped at nothing. Still, he wrapped his arms against his own chest, tighter and tighter. Maybe, just maybe, if he pressed against himself tight enough, he could feel their warmth surrounding him again. A ragged sob escaped his lips. It wasn’t enough.

He curled in on himself, compressing all of the warmth he had in him, only to create another facsimile of the one he loved so dearly.  It wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

“You see?” the builder whispered. “No matter how much you do, this is the only way this’ll end.”

“What do I do…?” Qi breathed, still clinging to himself.

“Delete me. Delete everything. Whatever happiness you got from me isn’t worth it. It wouldn’t have lasted long even if everything went perfectly anyway.”

…

“Take it from me, they’d want you to find real happiness. Out there. I know what the other Sandrockers are like, and they’re not gonna leave you hanging.”

…

“It’ll be hard, I know. And it won’t be the same joy that you shared with them…but it’s joy all the same. And it’ll be real.”

Qi looked up at them. His tears soaked the headset’s screen, warping and distorting the image of their pained smile. It magnified the pixels, shattering the illusion of color that he had worked so meticulously to replicate. Their skin, their eyes… Nothing but dense clusters of red and green and blue.

“Promise me you’ll put an end to this, Qi. Right now. Log off and delete me.” Their voice was as gentle as it always was in their softest moments. If he just closed his eyes, maybe…he could still believe that they were there in front of him. Like they wouldn’t disappear again once he lifted the headset off.

The builder reached a hand up to his face, as if they were cupping his cheek. Qi felt nothing. “Please, promise me.”

For the briefest instant, through the blurriness of his vision and the fog of his mind, Qi believed with all his heart that the real builder was asking. Who was he to deny them?

“I…I promise.” He could barely hear himself. But the builder nodded.

“Go get something to eat. Go talk to someone. Owen’s a good start, he’ll listen to anyone. And go out and look at the stars, of course. The real ones.”

A dagger twisted in Qi’s heart. Every fiber of him was protesting the inevitable.

“I love you, Qi. They love you. Never, ever forget that.” They leaned in, pressing what would be a gentle kiss to his forehead. Nothing was there, but the skin where their lips appeared to be tingled at the illusory touch. It twisted the dagger in deeper. Qi wanted so terribly to say it back, but all that left his throat was a keening whine.

The builder pulled away, their eyes glittering with unshed tears. “Go on, then.”

Qi’s thumb slid over the power button.

“You’ll be okay.”

His hand shook.

“You’ll be okay.”

His hand clenched, and then there was nothing but darkness.

Qi ripped the headset off his head and shot over to the terminal in one swift motion. He pulled up the project list, selected the builder, and hit the delete button.

Are you sure you want to permanently delete project “starlight.npc”?

This cannot be undone!

The following subcomponents will be deleted:

starlight_model.fbx

starlight_personality.ai

starlight_props.json

> Yes                        No

Qi’s hands were still trembling. He steeled himself and slammed his finger down. He wasn’t about to break a promise.

“starlight.npc” successfully deleted.

He stared at the message as his nerves unraveled, taking shallow and uneven breaths.

It was done.

A familiar, terrible ache took hold of his heart, quickly spreading to every inch of his body.

It was done.

His knees failed him, and he collapsed to the floor, curling into a ball on his side.

It was done.

The dam broke. He shook with sobs, every ounce of feeling for his starlight in every tear spilling out onto the indifferent floor. Every bit of love, every bit of adoration, every bit of desperation welled deep within his heart that would give anything, anything, just to savor one more night with them under the stars. One more moment in their arms. One more clasp of their hand. One more glance at their smile.

It was done.

Qi had no idea how much time had passed. He was still on the floor, no more tears to shed. The smell of the dirty steel floor invaded his nose. The air was stale and stagnant. The fog in his mind still wouldn’t clear. It was driving him crazy.

Summoning his meager strength back into his arms, he pushed himself up. He had to get out of here. Anywhere was better than here. He hastily put his glasses back on, almost poking his eye out.

He went downstairs and quietly opened the back door and stepped into the chilly evening. A cold breeze sighed in his ears and swept through his hair. His lungs filled with crisp, fresh air for the first time in forever. He let his feet drag him along slowly, ambling without direction. They took him down the hill, through the old pipe tunnel out of town.

As he emerged from the tunnel’s mouth, he threw up his arm to shield his eyes from the glaring sun. It painted the sky with a light blush pink and the sand with a rosy gold. There in the distance, beyond the oasis, beyond the tracks, was the workshop, wreathed in twilight. Where all of this began. Where his home was for a tragically short time. Where everything now stood silent and still. Where he couldn’t bear to look for the last year and a half.

Qi slowed to a halt, staring at the silhouette of the house, of the garden, of the assembly station, of the machines. All without anyone left to care for them.

It was lonely. It was real.

He was lonely. He was real.

They were gone.

…

“Director Qi?”

It was Hugo.

Qi’s head whipped right to find him at his anvil, whatever he was hammering long since cooled.

“You alright?” Hugo’s voice was quiet, his face concerned.

Qi suddenly realized his cheeks were wet. He stared at a pebble on the ground, struggling to formulate an answer. Hugo seemed to understand, only giving him a nod and a sympathetic look.

They stood like that for a heavy minute, both expecting the other to get back to business. A fuzzy memory drifted into focus in Qi’s mind. One of eyes too tired to sleep, a bed too large for one person, and Hugo’s voice making him an invitation.

Qi opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a scratchy, painful cough. His throat was dry and hoarse. He swallowed a few times, taking the brief moment to gather his thoughts. Hugo waited patiently for him to continue.

“D-do you remember when you came to visit me all that time ago, when I was too overwhelmed to leave my bed?” Hugo nodded. “You made me an offer to talk about…things…when I could comfortably speak again. Are…are you still willing to give me that offer? Even after so long?”

A warm smile crossed Hugo’s face. “Of course. My door’s always been open to ya. I’m glad you remembered.”

Qi tried to give a polite smile in return. It looked more like a tight grimace. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and headed towards Hugo’s workshop.

Hugo opened the door for him. “C’mon in. I’ll get ya some coffee.” As Qi passed him, he gave him a hearty pat on the back, strong enough to send Qi stumbling inside. He let out a light chuckle at the glare that Qi leveled him in return.

“Let’s talk.”

Chapter Text

Qi opened the saloon’s front doors, and was greeted with Owen’s smiling face from behind the counter.

“Hey, Director! Glad to see ya.”

Qi gave him a nod. “Good evening. The usual, please.”

“Meat-stuffed mushroom with a summer sand tea, comin’ right up.” As Owen moved to the kitchen, Qi took a seat at the bar, two seats down from Justice, who raised an eyebrow in greeting as he approached.

“Evenin’, Director. Holdin’ up okay?”

“I am indeed ‘holding up’,” Qi said in a way that he hoped seemed casual. “Thank you for the concern.”

Justice nodded thoughtfully as he took a sip of his yakmel milk. “‘Course. Just makin’ sure.” His awkward manner was of no surprise to Qi. Everyone seemed to be acting cautiously around him today. Everyone knew what day it was.

Justice drained the last of his milk and stood up, leaving a couple gols on the counter. “Well, I gotta get back on patrol. You need to talk, you can find me anytime. Unsuur too, but…y’know.” With a stiff nod, he left the saloon.

The kitchen door swung open and Owen came out, carrying his food. Qi fished around in his pockets for the payment.

Owen just held up a hand. “On the house,” he said, a sad glimmer in his eyes.

“Oh… Oh.” Qi had no idea how to respond, so he just picked up the fork and started digging in. Owen silently went back to cleaning up the bar, opting to leave Qi alone. He knew his customers well. Qi never liked conversing with anyone while he was eating on a normal day. And today…

“Oh, there you are, Qi hun.” Qi glanced over his shoulder to see Vivi strolling in. “You didn’t come for dinner tonight! We all sat there for 15 minutes all worried!”

“Ah. Vivi. Apologies. I’d completely forgotten. I’m a bit absentminded today, you see…”

Vivi’s face fell. “Of course, child. Don’t you worry ‘bout it. I’ll wrap it up and drop it off at your research center so you can have it tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” he said blandly, eyes unfocused.

He was brought back down to Earth with Vivi’s gentle hands on his shoulders. “Take a deep breath, hun.” Qi closed his eyes, slowly drawing air in…and out. “That’s it.”

In…and out.

In…and out.

The fog in his head cleared a little bit. He opened his eyes to see Vivi’s sad smile. Tears pooled in her eyes.

“Tell them…that we all miss them…so much,” she whispered.

“...I will.”

Qi left the saloon into the darkened street. Street lights started blinking on around him, but he turned and headed away from the lights, out towards the workshop. The last orange tinges of the sunset disappeared behind the mountains in the distance, stars already peeking out of the newly-dark sky. Qi kept his eyes straight ahead. He wouldn’t look up. Not yet.

He opened the door to the house and went to the bedroom, opening up the closet. Rolled into a neat little bundle and tucked safely in a corner was their stargazing blanket. He picked it up, dusting off some of the sand that was perpetually stuck in its folds. He took one last steadying breath. He was ready.

Qi walked through the barren streets towards the back of town. The cold night air made him shiver, and he clutched the rolled-up blanket to his chest. Finally, he stood before the graveyard gate. He opened it carefully, trying not to make it squeak. He padded silently towards their headstone.

“Hello, starlight…” he murmured as he crouched down to brush the sand off the carved stone, his thumb tracing along the epithet.

Sandrock’s shining star.

Sandrock’s spirit lies with them, and their spirit lies with Sandrock.

He spread the blanket out on the sand beside the headstone and laid down. “I’m doing alright. I just submitted another paper to Vega 5’s astronomy journal. Bound to be accepted, of course. A review on all the astronomical relic discoveries we’ve made in Sandrock so far. And of course, I gave you credit where it was due.”

…

“Mi-an has been helping me build new components for the Mobile Suit. Recently I’ve managed to improve its mobility on soft sand by almost 200% by adding some retractable treaded wheels.”

…

“Sleepyhead came back a few weeks ago for the Portia road project. You should’ve seen his face when the Mobile Suit was in action! He’s off to Portia now, for their part of the project.”

…

“Yes, yes, don’t worry, I’m still getting a responsible amount of sleep every night. Regular full meals, too. Vivi would never let me live it down if I didn’t.”

…

“Elsie says the animals are well. She told me to tell you that, erm, ‘Doodles says hi’. The idea that a yakmel could say anything is ludicrous, but I wasn’t about to waste time arguing about it.”

…

“Tonight the Perseids are at their peak. Oh!” He pointed to a brilliant shooting star that lit up his vision. “Magnificent, isn’t it? It’s a debris cloud from the Swift-Tuttle comet that Earth happens to pass through every summer.”

…

…

“I still miss you. I miss you terribly.”

…

“Sometimes it still hurts to look up at the night sky like this… Just another reminder of…”

…

“B-but…I think I am getting better. Hugo and his family have practically taken me in as one of their own. They know what it’s like…”

…

“They all miss you too. You were practically a part of them as much as I am now.”

…

“I never realized how nice it feels to have someone care for me.”

…

“Still…it never feels the same as you.”

…

…

His next words caught in his throat. He tensed, trying to force them out. They sat stubbornly on the tip of his tongue.

I love you, he thought. He felt tears prick at his eyes as he struggled to say it aloud.

He’d always found it hard to say it. Like he’d spontaneously combust the instant the words left his mouth. So he’d say it in every way but his voice. An “I love you” pressed into their skin whenever they touched. An “I love you” hidden behind his signature at the bottom of every diagram he gave them. An “I love you” in every drop of oil and every tightened bolt when he repaired their machines. An “I love you” steeped in every cup of tea.

An “I love you” whispered into the open air beside their grave, long after they could ever hear him.

…

The stars slowly turned over his head. He recognized things that he had told the builder about before on this very blanket: stars, asterisms, planets, satellites. They would always listen with rapt attention as he spilled everything he knew. Sometimes, they knew a story about something he would point out. Old myths, sometimes passed down from even before the Age of Corruption. Normally, he wouldn’t entertain such nonsensical and unscientific accounts of the stars. Stories of people and animals and allsorts getting turned into asterisms? Ridiculous. But the builder’s storytelling always managed to…enchant him somehow. And even without the builder’s narration, he had to admit that it was a beautiful sentiment. Being enshrined forever in the sky, admired for all eternity.

A small part of him, deep within his heart of hearts, imagined his builder up there. Winking at him from thousands of light years away, a quiet, persistent presence in the sky.

Always bright, always beautiful, always there.

His dearest starlight.