Magical Girl Mechanical Heart

"You think she's coming back?" I sign, causing Chloe to let out an exasperated sigh.

"I don't know. I never know. Every single time she leaves I don't know if she's ever coming back."

I manually wince, since the situation calls for it. Not my smartest question, but it seems I haven't been at my smartest today in general. I'm still mad at Bean for pushing me when I explicitly asked them not to. Not mad enough to say 'no, I won't give you a place to stay while you're homeless,' but… pretty damn mad. So when Eliza started interrogating me, too, I snapped a bit. Stupid of me. I should be above that kind of knee-jerk reaction by now. I just have to clock up and take the time to calm down, but no. I'm ruining already-fragile friendships instead. Great job, Luna.

"Sorry," I sign.

"It's not your… okay, it's not entirely your fault," Chloe corrects herself. "She's being irritable. She probably forgot to eat breakfast again. Or maybe she stayed up training instead of sleeping. It could be anything with her."

"Are you doing okay?" I ask. "It must be tough to live with that."

"I'm fine," she assures me unconvincingly. "Someone has to help her, and it may as well be me. And besides, I've dealt with way worse."

"You've played live-in therapist with other magical girls?" I ask.

"Well, not other Earth Guardians, obviously. Just normal people. Ex-boyfriends, mostly. Ex regular friends, too."

Sheesh, that doesn't sound like a fun history.

"No ex-girlfriends?" I ask, trying to lighten the mood.

"God, I don't even know," Chloe groans. "Sometimes I can't tell if I'm bisexual or just stupid."

Uh. Huh.

"What does that mean, exactly?" I ask, leaning back against the kitchen counter because I have a feeling this is going to be a long one.

"Ugh. Please don't get me talking about this," Chloe complains.

"I'm gonna get you talking about this," I sign.

Chloe lets out a long sigh through her nose, looking away from me and toward nothing in particular.

"…Promise not to tell Eliza?" she says.

"I won't betray a secret for as long as my heart beats," I answer after getting her attention back on my hands.

And yeah, that's a little deliberately misleading, but while I don't intend to tell Eliza any of Chloe's secrets, and I don't see how this would ever come up in terms of the things I can't control, you never know. Maybe Melpomene will get really invested in this random girl one day. It certainly happened to me.

"Alright, here goes…" Chloe sighs. "So… I'm not really attracted to physical features in the general sense. It's much more of a personality thing for me. I get attached to people who exhibit specific traits and behaviors, right? And like yeah, once I get attached to a person, I'll think they're hot, but that comes after."

"Well, that's not that weird," I sign. "To a lot of people, being attractive for their personality rather than their looks is exactly what they want in a partner."

"Well, that's sort of the problem," Chloe says, grasping tightly to her own arms as she continues avoiding my gaze whenever possible. "I'm kind of attracted to people with… issues?"

Ah.

"So you definitely have a thing for Eliza," I sign. Chloe lets out an aggrieved groan and suddenly switches to sign language as she responds, as if to make extra sure no one overhears her.

"Yes, kind of, but that's not the point here," she insists. "The point is that my brain is obsessed with fixing people. If I'm not spending all my time helping other people with their problems, I start getting really anxious. And if I'm getting anxious, I'm getting miserable. I can't handle having too much time to myself. I don't know what to do with it!"

"So you spend several hours making elaborate dinners, and organize study groups explicitly so you can help other people with their homework," I intuit.

"Yes, exactly. And this always ends in one of two ways. Either I get attached to someone who's so fucking miserable that not even my endless obsession can fix them, so I have to cut them out of my life before I end up getting myself killed, or the person finds out I'm only interested in them specifically because they're a problem case and they get kind of justifiably pissed off at me about it! It's why I know sign language. There was a deaf girl I went to school with around the time my dad started being able to take care of himself, and I just latched onto the idea that I needed to help her. Eventually it pissed her off so much that she cut ties."

Oof, yeah, I can see that. There's a big difference between helping someone and deciding on your own that they need help. Still…

"It seems like you were friends for long enough to learn the whole language and still remember it years later," I point out.

"Well… yeah," Chloe says aloud, self-consciously switching out of sign language again. "I mean, she did need help at first. She wasn't born deaf, it was a relatively recent thing for her, so she was initially really grateful to have someone she could talk to. Someone who could help take some part of her old life back. But ultimately, she was a lot stronger than I was. She did take her life back, mostly on her own, and when she didn't need me anymore, I was nothing but a burden. Not like… not like she just dumped me because she didn't need me or whatever. I was just so obsessed with the idea that she did need me to be there for her that I couldn't actually see who she really was anymore. She grew so much, and despite supposedly being her friend I couldn't see that. I was pretty awful to her, near the end. Kind of an ableist piece of shit in general, really."

She chuckles to herself like it's a joke. I know it's not, but it doesn't feel right for me to comment on it. My own relationship with disability is… a little too complicated for me to throw my hat in this ring. I'm just a fraud, after all.

"It sounds like you regret it," I say instead. "That's always the first step. And I certainly don't think you have to worry about Eliza outgrowing you anytime soon."

Chloe laughs again.

"Well, maybe you're the one who hasn't been paying attention, then," she says. "It's weird. A little different, because of the whole 'two of her' thing, but Minerva's really starting to pull both of them out of the muck. Yeah, they've still got a lot of problems, but they're moving forward. Someday she won't need me anymore, and… I guess the problem with being who I am is that I'm supposed to want that to happen. But… it's hard. I really am awful, you know? If she's doing poorly, I'm upset because there's too much for me to do, but if she's doing well I'm upset because there's not enough."

She grins at me, wild and jovial and free, and I bet if I wasn't an empath it might have even distracted me from those words. Unfortunately for her, I'm more focused than I've ever been.

"Frankly, Chloe, I think you're the person whose growth you've most failed to catch," I sign. "Eliza would be lost without you, and I bet she knows it. Deep down, at least. That's something to be proud of, no matter your motivations for it."

"You're sweet," Chloe says, cleanly deflecting my words before they can touch her heart. "Now come on. You wanna watch a movie or something? You can pick."

I don't have time to call her out on it, because it is at this point that the door bursts open and Eliza stomps back into the room… dragging Anath!?

"Ow, ow ow ow!" Anath whines as Eliza yanks on one of her less-sharp crystals to force her into the room. I can't help but feel a pang of sympathy; the crystals aren't like an animal's horns; they're either not attached to the skeleton at all, or they're attached to the skeleton because they've dug their way into a bone all the way from the outside. Probably not comfortable!

"Are you two making enough dinner for one more?" Eliza asks furiously.

"What the fuck?" Chloe answers, perfectly communicating my personal thoughts on the matter.

"She got stranded on Earth. My dumbass brother bought her lunch, but she doesn't have any other food or anywhere to sleep," Eliza growls out. "And I know she'll cause some kind of major property damage if I try to bring her into EG HQ, so I'm stuck keeping an eye on her."

What? That's… huh!? This is such a baffling decision. And frankly, for someone apparently dedicating herself to keeping an eye on Anath, she sure seems to be devoting all her attention to staring at me.

…Oh. Oh, no. No, no, no! How bad is it? What did Anath tell her? How fucked am I? How fucked is everyone in this room!? No. Don't panic. I need more information. I need more information before I can act!

"You okay, Luna? You look scared," Eliza says with the absolute fakest concern I've ever heard in my life. I know I look exactly the same as I did before! "You weren't this spooked when you shoved your hand into her mouth deep enough to scrape her fangs."

Oh my god. She's trying to interrogate me. She's trying to interrogate me, and she's really bad at it! Anath absolutely let something slip. Fuck this, fuck both of them. There's at least one sign I can do that she'll understand. I flip Eliza off.

"Woah! Okay! I guess you two are still mad at each other!" Chloe says, a hint of panic in her voice as she steps between us. "Can we all please just calm down a little bit? Take some deep breaths?"

"I'm sorry!" Anath blubbers, tears starting to form in her eyes.

"What?" Chloe says. "Eliza, put her down, Jesus. You're hurting her! Back up. What is happening? What's going on?"

"This is Eliza's best attempt at being subtle," I sign, and Chloe gives me a look of confusion mixed with exasperation.

"What?" Eliza asks immediately. "What did she say?"

I spare a furious glance at Anath while Eliza is distracted by Chloe, causing the girl to flinch away from me. Damn it, she's having a major depressive episode, isn't she? That's bad, but not as bad as it could be. She has a bit more self-control at that end of the scale. I need to know exactly what she said so I can make some kind of excuse about it!

"Okay, both of you, seriously, back off!" Chloe demands. "Eliza, what is happening? I know this girl randomly attacked you in the mall, but you shouldn't be treating her like this."

"She's. Dangerous. Has everyone suddenly forgotten that she's dangerous?" Eliza growls.

"Then get Castalia to deal with her, don't drag her in here!"

"No!" Eliza snaps. "I keep telling you, she's retired!"

"And I keep telling you she gets upset when bad things happen to you when she's not around!" Chloe snaps back. "Would you just let her decide what her own retirement means and accept some help for once!?"

"This is not about Castalia!" Eliza snaps. "This is about her!"

She points right at me. Okay. Abandoning subtlety already, I see. Sure. You were always shit at it anyway. Bring it on, then. I am not going to lose everything I have just because of a socially inept dumbass like you!

"What!?" Chloe nearly shouts. "How is any of this about her!?"

"They know each other," Eliza insists, motioning between Anath and me. "They know each other! Luna's always been suspicious, and with those interviews, we know someone has been working with the Dark Rebellion, and—"

"Interviews!?" Chloe shrieks. "Eliza, she can't talk!"

"I…" Eliza stops short. "Well. Okay, maybe she didn't do the interviews, but something is definitely going on between her and Anath."

"No there isn't," Anath croaks. "I-I don't know her."

"She's lying," Eliza insists, gesturing sharply at Anath. Which is true, but Chloe has no way to know that, and Eliza is acting borderline hysterical. I keep my hands still, resisting any urge to jump into the conversation. Maybe if I'm lucky, I won't even have to do anything. Chloe apparently has my back. She… trusts me.

I guess that's kind of a painful thought, but at least it's helpful here. I'll find some way to make it up to her.

"Eliza, seriously, just… take a couple deep breaths, okay?" Chloe says. "Have you eaten today? Did you sleep last night?"

"Don't treat me like I'm crazy!" Eliza snaps.

"I don't think you're crazy, I think you're just… a little worked up," Chloe tries.

"It's my job to be worked up!" Eliza snaps, and… okay, maybe I will need to step in here. I pull out my phone and start to type. "It's my job to protect the city from any monsters that might threaten it, but all of a sudden the monsters are holding fucking interviews and talking about how sad their lives are and even my own brother is… people are treating them like… like…!"

"Like they deserve basic empathy?" Chloe says flatly.

"They almost killed Aurora!" Eliza shouts, the sudden force of it nearly causing Chloe to stumble. "They almost killed me! They sent Veritas to the hospital, they've sent like eight other Earth Guardians to the hospital, and all the while they're gallavanting around the Dark World collecting alien doomsday technology and developing magical weapons! They are not the good guys! What insane world did I wake up in today for that to suddenly change!?"

"I'm sorry," Anath blubbers.

"Shut up!" Eliza shouts at her, and this time her target does stumble, tripping as she staggers backward and lands on her butt with a crash. This, of all things, is finally what gets Eliza to take a deep breath, but when she resumes speaking she doesn't sound any less angry.

"…And now, everything with Luna is pointing their way," she says. "Anath knows her name. Luna knows way too much about magic and is way too comfortable around us in general."

"Is it a problem to be comfortable with you?" Chloe demands.

"Yes!" she snaps. "No one is comfortable around me! Not even you're comfortable around me! You're scared right now!"

"Why wouldn't I be scared when you're acting like this!?"

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"She's not scared," Eliza motions to me again. "She's stressed, but she's not scared."

She takes another deep breath. Again, trying to calm herself down, but really only making the anger a little colder.

"…Even my brother would be scared if I yelled at him like this," Eliza says. "Why wouldn't he be? I run on anger. I wouldn't even need my incarnate form to crush your skull with one hand. Any human would find that scary. Should find that scary."

Again, Eliza looks at me.

"But she doesn't."

"And why would I?" I finish writing on my phone. "I'm way too busy being angry, you ungrateful cunt."

That clearly isn't the answer Eliza was expecting, so that's the first hurdle cleared. It seems to me that Eliza doesn't actually know much at all. She's coming uncomfortably close to the truth, of course, but that's less her actually having any evidence and more her brain unconsciously recognizing patterns and putting together puzzle pieces she can't even really see. I know that, as a literal fucking robot, my emotional responses to things are going to feel different from a human's. Not totally alien, not anything unexplainable, but there's probably a bit of uncanniness to an empath, especially when I up my clock speed and race through several sets of thoughts in barely a second or two. It has to be weird.

That said, it's also unique. It doesn't tie me back to being an artifact, because I keep my plates closed when I'm in public with my disguise off. It doesn't truly tie me to being magical, either, since I don't have more than a small handful of Earth Guardian emotional training and generally handle magic differently. It doesn't mark me as anything other than 'someone with weird emotions,' and that's not solid evidence for anything in particular. I'm sure there are plenty of people with emotions that vary from the average way those tend to be expressed. It's not a cause for alarm.

Which means the solution to this problem is very simple. She has reasonable suspicions, but she lacks evidence. She can't prove anything. So it's time for that classic social tactic my family has taught me well: misdirect, accuse, and gaslight, gaslight, gaslight.

I'm a bad friend. But that was always going to be the case, wasn't it? It was all a lie from the very beginning.

"Excuse me!?" Eliza snaps, but I cut her off.

"Shut up," the robotic voice of my phone buzzes. "I know everyone loves talking over the mute girl, but it's my fucking turn."

She almost keeps talking, stopped only by the sentence I added in at the end. It's so easy to weaponize the lie. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

"Where the hell do you get off spewing this bullshit at me?" I continue. I need her to feel bad. To regret everything she's just done, no matter how justified. "What have I ever done to you that makes you think I'd support people beating up children? Was it when I made you food? Bought you nice things? Helped you home from the hospital after you nearly passed out in the goddamn lobby? I have been nothing but nice to you. If you don't want to be my friend, fine, whatever. You don't owe me that. But this? This is bullshit. Fuck you."

"I… you deny it, then?" Eliza says.

"Yeah I deny it, you insane bitch!" I have my phone confirm.

"Then how do you explain everything?" she demands. "What is your deal!?"

"I don't have to explain shit!" I insist, turning my phone up to maximum volume. "I don't owe you my life story! You don't get to decide for yourself that you have a right to know everything about me, and you don't get to declare I'm some batshit insane witch or whatever the hell you think about me just because I don't live up to your expectations! I'm not afraid of you? You think I'm a child-killing monster because I'm not fucking afraid of you!? Can you not see how insane you sound!?"

You're wrong, you're crazy, you never should have said anything to begin with. I know those feelings so, so well. I have so many examples to follow, so many ways to make other people feel the same.

"That's not what I—"

"I don't care!" I cut her off again. Never give her a chance to speak. Just add more doubt, more pain. Make myself the victim. "Boo fucking hoo, I have the basic wherewithal to treat you and Castalia like people instead of dangerous bombs. I must be evil, for trying so hard to do right by you. Look, dumbass, I don't need to be a magical wizard to understand what it's like to be treated like an object. To know that you need someone in your life who isn't fucking afraid of you, to remind you you're still a person! You are! Don't you ever tell me again that you're not!"

Make it about her. Make it all about her. Leave her with nothing but shame and regret so fierce she never thinks of pressing me on this again. I'm sorry, Eliza. I'm such a hypocrite. And I'm definitely just as much of a monster as you think I am.

Fake tears leak out of my fake eyes, though if I had real ones they'd probably also be crying.

"I'm done," I say. "If this is what I get for trying, then I won't."

And I make for the door, pushing past the shocked Eliza and the… sickeningly sympathetic-looking Anath. I can't linger. I can't let her get her bearings with me around again. I have to go.

I can't give her time to notice how much I hate every word that I just wrote. How much I wish I could have said something very different, with my real voice. Damn text-to-speech program barely understands inflection well enough to raise the pitch at the end of a question.

I worked hard on my new voice. It would be nice if more than four people were ever allowed to hear it. But I'm asking too much, aren't I? Of course I am. It's been nice to pretend, but I've let all the friendship and relative normalcy distract me from the fact that I'm a slave. Ugh, but shouldn't I stay distracted? I'll run out of power if I'm not happy enough. I wonder how Castalia does it.

Hey, that's a distraction. Let's focus on that. I can tell Castalia is home as I stomp my way back to our dorm. Ugh, I can't even take the initiative to try to help Anath because Castalia would catch on just as easily as Eliza. Poor girl is going to be extra miserable having a depressive episode while her crush is furious with her. Because like, let's be real. Anath is crushing on Eliza. Or… I guess Fulgora, specifically? I'm not sure if it's an I-want-to-make-out-with-her crush in addition to the I-want-to-bite-her-throat-out-while-she-beats-me-to-death crush, but either way it's incredibly fucking gay.

Man. First Chloe, now Anath? How does that traumatized, asexual dumbass get so many girls? Whatever, I'm not jealous.

I unlock the door to my dorm and head inside, looking over at the couch to see… Castalia floating upside-down above it. And the TV… also floating upside-down and playing that new She-Ra cartoon that's barely trying and brutally failing to pretend it's not a political commentary about magical girls. I hear it's pretty good, though. I should torrent it with my brain sometime, but I figure it'll probably get canceled after the second season. It is a Netflix show, after all.

"What are you doing?" I sign as Castalia looks my way.

"I am engaging in whimsy," she answers, as dead serious as always.

"…Okay," I allow.

"You are upset," she observes.

"Yep," I confirm.

"Did something happen?"

"Eliza and I got into a fight," I answer honestly.

"Oh. That's bad."

"It's not good," I agree, not interested in getting into anything specific. "How goes the whimsy?"

"Limited in its effectiveness," Castalia says. "This show is less fun than I expected."

"Yeah, well, it's about a girl with magic powers who was raised with the express purpose of being a soldier deciding to abandon that life and her friend, who decides that the girl betrayed her and now hates her personally," I say. "I imagine it hits a little close to home."

"Your summation is blunt, but accurate," Castalia agrees, righting both herself and the TV as she sits down on the couch. "It is difficult to avoid thinking about the Dark Rebellion too much. Unfortunately, I need to avoid thinking about the Dark Rebellion too much, or I'll die."

Oh. Uh.

"Die?" I press.

"If I become too incapable of joy, yes," Castalia confirms. "You don't need to worry. It's unlikely to occur. A more probable scenario would be that I end up in a coma or on extended life support, but we are not at a stage where I believe there is immediate danger of such a situation. It takes only a small trickle of magical energy to sustain my human body, and I have significant experience avoiding the kinds of depressive spirals I find myself currently at risk of. I'll let you know if the situation turns for the worse."

"I didn't realize your human form was in that bad of a condition," I admit.

"It's very weak," Castalia says. "The muscular atrophy has started to affect my lungs, necessitating the breathing assistance I use when sleeping. My heart remains strong, but it's entirely possible that it is only because of magical strengthening. It is, unfortunately, impossible for the doctors to tell. What matters is that, as of right now, I'm not at risk. If I focus enough, that will remain the case. Magic can compensate for a lot."

"…Do you think magic can cure cancer?" I ask, already partly regretting it, but… I have to try.

"Probably," Castalia says. "Cancer is a difficult problem because it's fundamentally hard to define, medically speaking. It is the body's own cells creating problems, so how do you kill it without killing the rest of the cells around it? How do you define—in terms of physics, chemistry, and the other thoughtless tools we have to perform medicine—what a cancer cell is? But magic has no such weakness. We know what cancer is. And so magic knows."

"You've thought about this before," I realize.

"Yes," Castalia agrees. "I am not a healer. But it is one of the careers I have considered. Maybe if I understand the human body better, I can do what came to Thalia so naturally."

"Why is healing so rare as a magical ability?" I ask.

"I don't know," Castalia answers simply.

Okay. Here goes nothing, I suppose.

"…Do you think the Preservers know?" I ask. "Do they have anti-cancer magic? Or magitech, or whatever their deal is."

"It is logical that they would," Castalia frowns. "But I do not think the Preservers would withhold such things from us if they were not genuine in their belief that the consequences outweighed the benefits. And we do have clear evidence of those consequences."

The Dark World. The Great Execration. Yeah. The Preservers aren't talking out of their asses when they say magic is catastrophically dangerous for a society that isn't prepared for it, but how much of that is their fault? Somehow, I suspect the Antipathy would have been a lot less likely to blow themselves up if they weren't at risk of complete mental and physical subservience to another power. But… I can't just come out and say that.

"You've read the stuff circulating around recently, right?" I ask. "You were watching one of the interviews the other night."

"Yes," Castalia says. "I've read it all."

"What do you think?" I ask. "It's generating a lot of fuss, but no one is even sure if it's real yet."

"…I don't know what to think," Castalia says. "I'd like to believe Melpomene wouldn't lie, but… perhaps I don't know her anymore."

I don't answer. I can't answer. There's nothing I can say that my mind feels safe enough to express.

"Uma'tama mourned with us," Castalia says.

"What?" I ask, a little dumbfounded by the sudden topic change.

"Uma'tama mourned with us," Castalia repeats. "When Thalia died. We're not just weapons to them. They loved her, too."

Oh. I get it. It's cognitive dissonance. The Preservers aren't just a vague, nebulous figure to her the way they are for me and most of the rest of the world. She knows one on a personal level. She lived with one, as a child. In her eyes, there's no way that person could do something as terrible as what Melpomene is accusing them of. And on one hand, that's fair. I certainly didn't get the impression that Uma'tama was some kind of evil mastermind attempting to orchestrate the complete subservience of humanity the one time I saw Thea chatting with them.

On the other hand, Uma'tama's entire thing is being a liaison to the Earth Guardians. Maybe they're just good at what they do. The fact of the matter remains that the Antipathy destroyed themselves because of the Preservers. No matter how nice one particular Preserver happens to be, that doesn't change.

Still, I think continuing the conversation any further would be more risk than I could reasonably justify. Castalia and I fall back into the slightly tense silence that has become routine for us, though as always, I don't get the impression that Castalia is mad at me or wants me to leave or anything. The atmosphere is just… different. Changed by all the very same suspicions that drove Eliza to confront me, yet held in stasis by all the same absences of evidence that allowed me to wriggle away. At some point, I'll probably have to cut and run, removing myself from the situation entirely before I can get any confirmation that I've been found out.

Still, for now, I sit on the couch beside Castalia, mostly ignoring the show in front of us as I check in on the responses to my various social media accounts. As one of the first truly reliable tell-alls since the advent of the Earth Guardians, the entire thing has continued to spread. There are even accounts dedicated to reposting everything I do in other languages, and the fires of outrage have started catching worldwide. I'm not the only one in on the act, anymore. Mothers and fathers of dead or active Earth Guardians have started sharing their stories, discussing the troubles of raising a child with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder… or in other cases, the difficulty of raising a child when the parents no longer possess the power to enforce any decisions over them. That one I can't find myself having much sympathy for, though parents as a whole seem quite incensed at the prospect.

Somehow, I've opened the floodgates on a dam that had been ready to burst for years. It's hard to speak out against the Earth Guardians. It's easier to find someone who had a loved one killed by monsters than it is to find someone with a child taken by the Preservers. Most of the kids are orphans, so they don't have anyone to speak for them in the first place.

Fifteen years ago, when all of this began, there was outrage. There was horror at the idea of letting the safety of the world rest on the backs of child soldiers. But a decade and a half has passed since then, with no change to the status quo. Outrage gets tired, especially when you're one of the people benefiting from the injustice rather than one of the people hurt by it. Every parent goes through a phase when their child is around that age, fearing and fretting and worrying that their little angel might be the one who gets chosen… and for nearly all of them, that fear never comes to pass. That's all there is to it anymore, for most people. No one had an alternative, so everyone ran out of air with which to scream.

But now, that old rage is back, with new tinder to stoke the fire. The Preservers aren't just using orphans to protect the planet, they're doing it badly. The girls are maladjusted, mutated, and prone to dying far more than anyone wants to admit. We even have evidence that they might be scheming something, though that outlook is unfortunately championed most loudly by bigots, nationalists, and supremacists of all walks. Go figure, right? Still, every notch on the political spectrum is in agreement that something is wrong. Something must be done. It is high time that the Preservers answer for what they've done.

A few days later, I'm far from the only person shocked when the Preservers do, indeed, answer.

"And now, we bring you to the weather with Mary! Mary, how do things look out there?"

"Well, it's a beautiful day, Todd. As you can see behind me, people have been gathering around the lake to enjoy this—"

I don't usually watch the weather. Especially not local weather from a completely different state. But just yesterday afternoon, this particular news forecast started spreading like mad to every corner of the internet. Because for some utterly baffling reason, it is precisely this broadcast in which a strange winged cat pops into existence right behind the reporter and clears their tiny little throat.

"Excuse me?" the Preserver says. "Is this 'The News?'"

"Wh… I…" the reporter stammers, but in a remarkable display of quick-thinking professionalism, she rallies. "Yes. Yes it is. Is… there something you would like to say?"

"Yes indeed," the Preserver confirms. They aren't Uma'tama, as best I can tell. This one has gray fur and a completely different pattern on their face. "We wish to communicate an official response to the local discontent regarding our protective practices. Upon comprehensive review of the primary objections, we have deemed them of worth and insight. We express our sincere apologies in failing to preemptively recognize the outlined concerns. Additional resources will be allocated to maintaining the stability, and most importantly safety, of Earth, including but not limited to a budget of local currency, to be negotiated and traded for with your government, which will be allocated toward the employment of mental health specialists and nannies."

"Oh," the reporter says. "Do you—"

But before she can get in a fourth word, the Preserver promptly vanishes, leaving a flabbergasted news team with nothing to do but desperately try and fail to return their own attention to the weather.

So with that, I shut off the recording, turning to the rest of the Dark Rebellion as they continue to stare at the now-black screen in shock.

"…That's it?" Nanaya asks, being the first to break the silence. "They spat off a bunch of drivel, then vanished? There's no way anyone is placated by that."

Anath squirms on the couch next to her. She still hasn't gotten out of her funk since getting dragged home by Eliza. I'm not sure what happened between them, but… I mean, Eliza let her go. I honestly wasn't expecting that, if I'm being real.

"Well, they weren't placated… until the Preservers started following through," I answer. "The details are a bit hush-hush, but rumor has it that the Preservers have started negotiating a deal with the American government selling biofuels and precious metals valued in the hundreds of billions. We are talking a genuinely insane amount of product, and they're probably doing the same thing for every major government on the planet."

"That's… terrifying," Thea says. "I mean, I don't know a whole lot about politics, but governments don't usually like fighting against major suppliers of necessary resources, right?"

"Well, our black market guy told me in no uncertain terms that he wasn't going to take any of the artifacts I brought in for offer last night," I say, "so I suspect you're right on the money. Literally. We started poking them to see their response, and now we have it."

"Therapists? Babysitters? This can't seriously be all they need to say," Nanaya says. "We brought evidence that Preservers are an existential threat to all of humanity!"

"Yeah, well, most people are a lot more worked up about the child mortality thing," I admit with a shrug. "Don't get me wrong, the whole debacle is far from decided, but the main thrust of the current public narrative is that the Preservers are incompetent. The Preservers being evil is mostly written off as a conspiracy theory."

"Then what was the point of any of this!?" Melpomene suddenly shouts. "That was our whole objective, and you told us this would work!"

"It did work," I insist. "The child abuse stories are what got us the visibility we needed to accomplish anything at all. Of course that's what most people latched onto."

"But you're saying it didn't do anything!" she snaps.

"Mel, it was our opening move," I remind her. "Did you really think the Preservers wouldn't respond to it?"

She lets out a frustrated scream, kicking our shitty little coffee table hard enough to splinter it as she stands up and storms off. The rest of us all freeze in shock, watching her leave. That… was quite the tantrum. She doesn't normally do that kind of thing in front of the others.

"…She's very stressed," Nanaya says, standing up as well. "I'll go talk to her."

She heads off, leaving Anath, Thea, and me alone in the room. After a short silence, Thea opens her mouth to say something, but is cut off by another furious scream and a crash in the other room.

"…I should go," I decide immediately.

"Oh," Thea says. "Okay."

"Sorry," I say, powerwalking for the exit. I don't want to be around Melpomene while she's having an episode. Who knows what she might end up making me do.

At this point, it feels like it's only a matter of time.