Little Mx "I Don't Have A Favourite"

"Ah!"

A sudden yelp could have been heard inside of Ishmael's room as she jerked up from her bed, now in a sitting position - gripping her white duvet with an unimaginable force. The knuckles of her calloused hands turned white, small cracks and subtle scabs visible. Her eyes were shot open, darting around the room; her mouth - slightly parted as she exhaled and inhaled rapidly.

Her broad shoulders were hunched, as both her mind and heart raced. There was nothing unusual around her: her room kept in the state as it was before she went to sleep. Her duvet - a simple, white cotton sheet; her furniture consisting only of a bed, simple wardrobe, night stand, small desk and a cheap looking chair. Near her bed - right beside it, above the night stand on which her mace and shield were leaned over was a simple, rectangular window of a medium size. It had a set of cheap looking sheer white curtains, through which the pale light of the Moon hanging high in the night sky came in.

She let out a long, shaky breath, bringing the palm of her right hand onto her face and rubbing it - letting her mind wander for a second. Waves, screams, pallid whiteness: a mush her imagination produced, as if to deliberately wake her up from the serene slumber. Her worn-out gray t-shirt was slightly damp, her bangs plastered to her forehead.

"Shit."

A nearly silent whisper left her lips as she frowned, knowing that she wouldn't be able to fall asleep anytime soon. Swiftly putting aside the duvet, as she was about to stand up and cope with the bottling up feelings of unease and anxiety in her gut - a faint knock was audible.

Her eyes darted to the metal door as she tensed up, feeling her heart stop for a second. Maybe I'm still dreaming, she wondered, instinctively holding onto the bed frame - as if to stop herself from any sudden movements.

Some shuffling could be heard outside the room, followed by a set of three knocks now - a little more confidence felt in them. Ishmael's brows furrowed, as she firmly stood up: straightening her posture, despite the delicate shiver that ran down her spine due to the quick contact of her feet with the cold surface. Stepping to the door, with a stern look on her face she opened them - despite the tension in her body and unnerved mind.

Right in front of her stood a person: one of her coworkers. Just like Ishmael herself, [you] also seemed slightly unnerved - still in your pajamas. All the built up tension evaporated from Ishmael's system, even an unexpected held-in exhale escaped , but she still stood her ground firm. Eyeing up the unforeseen visitor her face softened a little, now portraying something between contemn and flatness, rather than the anxiety she so hardly tried to overpower.

"Can I help you?" She asked, her voice a little hoarse. The sinner in front of her visibly relaxed at the sound.

"Did I wake you up? I'm sorry. I felt I had to check on you." [You] said quickly, your voice - too - sounding as if [you] woke up not too long ago yourself. "I.. um. Had a dream something happened to you. Couldn't really help myself not to come, even at this hour." Your gaze faltered, an embarrassed look born on your face.

Ishmael's eyes slightly widened with surprise at this sudden admission. She was expecting anything but a reason as simple and endearing as this one. Her shoulders slumped slightly as she, a little dumbfounded, looked down onto her posture.

"Well, I'm alright. In one piece, as you can see." She whispered, her voice cracking a little as she finished the sentence. A crumpled, gray t-shirt that has already dried paired with dark green checkered boxers and an unruly bed hairstyle. Not her proudest look, but at this point she couldn't care less about being presentable.

"Yeah. Can I come in though? Just to make sure?" [You] inquired, looking behind Ishmael's shoulder - deeper into her dark room.

A little taken aback Ishmael moved out of the way, making the necessary space to enter. Some quiet stomps could be heard - and the click of metal doors closing behind her. Her gaze followed her nightly visitor as [You] halted in the middle of the room - your eyes fixated on the window: or rather, whatever was behind it. Your face was illuminated by the pale moonlight, basking the features in a silver-ish veil. Ishmael could feel her heart skip-a-beat, but quickly dismissed it; thinking about the nightmare that haunted her not too long ago - affection seemed too much of an uncertainty to let herself even consider it. Not that.. it was even there, she thought to herself - trying to rebuild the wall that was crumbling in your presence.

"The window." [You] pointed, a small huff escaping your lips. "Looks like there was quite the storm outside. wasn't there?" You turned to face her, a kind yet playful smile twisting your lips. "That makes the two of us a little too disturbed to fall back asleep."

Ishmael was genuinely surprised by the keen observation, this whole time trying to play-off her anxiety and diminish it to the point of nonexistence. She turned her head, exhaling deeply through her nose as she crossed her tanned arms on her chest; the facade cracking slightly.

"I'm not even going to correct you." She swiftly opened one of her eyes, taking a quick glance at your face.

"Mm. I have an idea." You said, a mischievous spark in your eyes. "You know, since the dawn of time people have slept together to soothe their nerves. Maybe we should try this too?"

Ishmael's breath hitched, her eyebrows furrowing as much to make a mark between them. She could feel her heartbeat quickening and her face heating up slightly - as much to her displeasure.

"You're not slick with this. At all." She grumbled, trying to stop her voice from even the smallest crack. "You're lucky it's.. too late for me to argue." She mumbled, shaking her head - her trademark sigh escaping her lips as a way to express her.. surrender. A small victorious pink flush appeared on your face in response.

After some shuffling and ruffling, Ishmael was comfortably posed with her back facing the wall behind her - and her face on the level of your chest. She felt absolutely bewildered by the development of this whole ordeal, her lips pursed in a tight line as she tried her best to keep her composure: and keep the 'appropriate' distance (she imposed upon the both of you). Her mind raced, trying to remember the last time she was so intimately close to someone - the remnants of the nightmare disappearing somewhere far away, washed away with the dark waves that haunted her every breath.

[You] yawned quietly, draping the duvet over her shoulder and delicately embracing Ishmael. Laying on your side, right in front of her - scooting a little closer, so both of you can enjoy being under the duvet. Her body was like a radiator: still, maybe even a little tense, but the amount of heat she radiated was both comforting and concerning. [You] reached out your left arm, your right being under your head for support, and embraced her delicately. Your hand held her head steadily, your thumb cautiously making circling motions as to soothe her.. or yourself. Her shallow breaths blew small portions of warm air in the direction where your heart was beating calmly.

"Goodnight, Ish." Your whisper made her racing thoughts halt in place, her hazel eyes looking up your face amidst the dark of the room. Your eyes where closed, a gentle smile plastered on your lips. She laid there, in your grasp - feeling your breathing steadily slow down as she waited for [you] to fall asleep peacefully.

She observed [you]: how your features relaxed, how your lips slightly parted to let out a dreamy sigh; hoping your night will continue without any unnecessary disturbances. Maybe it was something she picked up upon entering the deck of Pequod - night watches were a daily occurrence there; or, just maybe, it was something she felt she had to do to ensure you won't disappear into the white foam with a low tide. Even though she knew no path was intended to cross forever, the knot she felt tightening between you two was not something she was willing to let go of - no matter how much she tried to dismiss those feelings growing inside of her.

Hesitantly, she closed the distance between your bodies - hugging her face to your chest and enveloping your frame with her strong arms. She shut her eyes tight, listening to your heartbeat lulling her like the sound of tranquil waves, her breathing starting to follow the rhythm of your own. Her embrace was solid, leaving no room to escape.

For the last time, the sight of her friends being devoured by the Pallid Whale flashed before her eyes - followed by the images of them coated in the white fleshy membrane, with their faces just barely resembling their own. She gripped you tighter, her breathing becoming ragged as a desperate whisper left her quivering lips;

"Please."

"… just don't let go."

It was likely you were someone who thought of anything that displayed an ounce of sentience or human-like intelligence as equivalent to a human, or at least like it enough to treat whatever it was as a person.

With an Abnormality, this could be deadly. In fact, if you weren't a Sephirah yourself, it would be deadly. You would be dead, forgotten, and the world would move on.

But you died once. And now you're a conscious within a robot managing a department at Lobotomy Corporation. If you're the same as who you were before or not, it doesn't matter. All that matters is that kindness—or is it pure delusion?— stuck.

Whatever department you manage isn't important either. But let's say you run the Maintenance Department. At the end of each workday, you and your employees come by to clean up the mess. Bag up the corpses and mop up the blood. And repair any damages the Abnormalities or employees made to the containment procedures.

This leads to interactions with Angela. Day after day you debrief with her, telling her the costs of what damages needed more to be fixed and everything that needed to be done. She listens, same impassive smile, watching calmly as you congratulate your employees on another day of hard work and send them to the dorms.

You don't typically interact with the Manager. Why would you? His job was to manage the employees during the day. Your job was to clean up any mess caused from his mistakes.

You have a ritual of sorts. Whenever a Memory Repository rolls around, you request a few cakes to share with your department. Typically, this request is denied, and you simply go make the cakes yourself. It's part of the reason many employees clamor to join your department whenever an opening arises. Your department is peaceful too, as are you.

Once, Angela questioned the necessity of your ritual. You just offered her to join you, which she declined. But ever since you regularly offered her to join.

"Why do you wish for me to accompany you?" She asked one day.

You told her because she was always alone. Wouldn't it do her good to have friends? Furthermore, enjoying food was a welcome experience you were still fortunate to have despite your body.

"I am an AI. I am uncertain if it is possible for me to eat?"

Wouldn't she like to try, you asked. Try food, test if she can eat? If she cannot, she can simply blame you.

She did not understand why you treated her in such a way, but she relented.

The time loop was harsh on her, after all. But maybe a bite of cake would be a welcome experience…

What was ten seconds to taste cake was a thousand to her. A thousand wonderful seconds compared to the billions of agony she went through before. Your employees were a little wary at her joining, but did not attempt to fight back.

You asked her if she liked the cake.

"…It is passable." She concluded. And then, in a voice barely a whisper, "Thank you."

You did not catch this, but ever since that day, Angela agreed to join in on your little ritual. And your requests began to become approved. But the timeline wore on. Managers were reset, days started anew, and nothing every seemed to change. But your ritual remained, as did your kindness, even towards her.

"Why do you speak to me the same way you speak to your employees?" She asked once.

You asked if she was not a person.

"I am an AI." She repeated, as she did so many times before. "I am not a human, and yet you seem to think of me as one."

She looked like a human, and she seemed to behave like one.

"Hm? How so?"

She could speak, she could think, and she even had opinions of her own.

"As do some Abnormalities. But they are not human, and it would be foolish to make the mistake of thinking so."

You asked if she thought she was an Abnormality.

"I do not, but I do not make the mistake of assuming I am a human."

You point out your own robotic form, asking if you do not count as a person.

"You have the mind of one. I simply have the appearance."

Silence, for a moment, and then you asked if she wanted to be a human.

"…"

She never gave you a response. And soon, you got up and left.

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Angela's favoritism towards you was obvious among the other Sephirah. She'd speak down to them, but with you be polite and behave as if you were her equal. She'd calmly allow their employees to die, yet would give you time to mourn when the rare occasion came you lost one of yours. But the most evident of all was when the day ended and she spent her time hovering around you.

Now, you did not typically interact with most Sephirah, save for when you started work and needed to hear about what Abnormalities got out that day and who they killed. Perhaps who you interacted with the most would be those responsible for training or handling employees, but even then it would be rare. You almost never descended down to the bottom layer, much less interacted with Binah, Hokma, or whoever ran the Architecture Department.

And the Manager… well, as time wore on, you started to speak with him more. Even if to simply offer your missions and forcibly remember how you died. And how agonizing it was.

To be torn apart by something you once trusted… How cruel.

Yet your ritual remained. And you remained. You always remained. Even as employees went, you remained to mourn and remember them. Even as no one else seemed to care.

Angela asked you about this, once.

"Why do you seemed so bothered when an employee is lost? It has happen so often it would be natural to become used to it by now, no?"

You told her all dead should have someone to mourn them. Including her.

"I am incapable of death. As are you, for that matter. Your body may become damaged, yet that shall be repaired. It may be destroyed, and it will be rebuilt. You cannot die."

All the more reason for you to mourn someone when they go. After all, you died yourself.

"And yet you are back. And I cannot say anyone mourns you."

So you'll mourn yourself.

She fell silent at that.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Your meltdown came swiftly and harshly. Ironic someone who's job was to clean up when Abnormalities broke loose instead spent their whole meltdown trying to let them free.

Angela didn't interfere. After all, she wasn't allowed to interfere in matters like this. But something within her ached. If she were human, it would be her heart. But she is not one.

Yet you continue to act as if she is one.

Once your meltdown came to an end, she approached you. There was no passive-aggressive tones or cutting words, merely her silently standing over your smaller form.

She didn't say a word as you looked to her.

"How long until all of this is over?"

She didn't know. But even without a face, she saw your smile.

"I think this will end soon. And all our suffering will be worth it."

Not her's. Her's will never be worth it.

She didn't understand how you looked at that man and smiled like how you did to her. Or to the other Sephirah, who seemed rather apathetic to your struggles. Or to your employees, who's lives were meaningless and easily ended. You were an emotional thing.

But when you smiled at her like that, any ire towards you faded. You were by far the most innocent of the Sephirah, even if to the point of foolishness. But it was alright.

Even if you stand against her on the final day. Even if you don't smile at her when she keeps some of the light for herself. Even as you ignore her as she enters your floor of the Library. It will all be alright. She's a patient woman, after all. She's suffered through thousands of years of agony, after all. It will be worth it.

The two of you shall have cake, and you will smile at her again. As if she was a human.

And now, for you, she shall soon be one.

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