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“I wish I was pretty,” Amy says nonchalantly as she looks over herself in the static reflection at the edge of the island. It’s to no one in particular, and arrives without a single hesitation.
She tries to brush the water with her hand, only for it to phase and glitch past the surface. She stares a bit longer as the glassy reflection returns her gaze.
The sentiment is… mixed. She’s not even sure where it comes from. It’s not like she’s ever felt particularly ugly or out of place. But the wish itself feels much more substantial—more weighted in truth—as the words escape her mouth. Like the thought is happening to her instead of coming from within.
Silently, Sage appears from seemingly nowhere, curious as to what Amy could be up to.
“Is the desire for beauty because you would get more attention from Sonic?” Sage chimes in after a few more moments of silence. Her matter-of-fact tone is disarmingly straightforward.
Amy jumps back from the water in surprise. Her eyes narrow at the girl, but she holds her tongue. No place to run… so might as well enjoy the company.
“Well, yes, I’d love more of Sonic’s attention,” Amy replies indignantly, but rolling her eyes at how far off the comment actually is from the truth. “But, that’s not it. I’m a thousand percent sure that Sonic would treat me with the same kindness no matter how I look.”
“Then your statement is illogical,” Sage says. The mechanical hollowness of her voice resounds in stark contrast to her eerily humane empathy. “…Not to mention statiscally confusing.”
“Mmn, maybe,” she responds finally. “But the feelings don't change.”
“Feelings of …inadequacy?” Sage prods.
“Sure.” Amy winces in silent agreement. She isn’t in the mood to get psychoanalyzed.
Sage squints, probably processing endless numbers in her head. “Regrettably, you are a formidable opponent to the execution of Father’s plans,” she says plainly.
“Thanks… I think,” Amy chuckles dryly.
A stray pebble rolls off from a floating platform above and disrupts the stillness of the water. Amy looks on as her face distorts and ripples, further distancing reality from her current, non-physical form.
“I look in the mirror and I hardly see anyone worth associating with, much less myself,” she finds herself confessing. “It’s like I’m a ghost, piloting someone else’s body. I recognize it, but I don’t look like me.”
Amy’s eyes glaze over as her hand glitches into the water once again.
“If I was prettier… would that solve my problems? That sinking feeling of not being good enough?”
“I know of you,” Sage responds carefully. “Not enough to know how to solve your problems. Or if that would be beneficial to the safety of the Doctor.”
“Either way, I’m still left behind…” Amy sighs. “You’re a robot, right?” she continues. “I imagine you don’t know what it’s like to feel insecure.”
Amy barrels through the sentence so quickly that Sage hesitates. In some ways, she could relate. The yearning for fulfillment is a pain that she had probably been programmed with.
“Insecurity manifests in this numbness that I can feel in my fingertips,” Amy adds candidly. “It twists through my chest when I take a breath, and chokes out the glimmer of hope sometimes.”
“It would be advantageous for me if you did give up,” Sage says, slightly unsure if she fully believes what she is saying.
“But that’s not an option. Not while I live in the same world as Sonic the Hedgehog.” Amy's steely resolve returns in a moment of confidence. At her core, she knows that she can believe in him when she doesn't quite trust herself.
“It may not mean anything to hear it from an enemy,” Sage speaks carefully. “But I think you, and the hope you have, are… beautiful.”