A TREASURE HUNT IN 1194X

“HEEEELP! SOMEBODY HELP MEEEEE!”

　Cactus wailed at the top of his lungs, but the wind and crashing surf drowned out his cries. He looked to his side to find Phlox shouting, too.

　“. . . something, Cap . . . ?”

　You say something, Cap? That was probably what he’d asked.

　Cactus bellowed back, “Nothing! Just forget it!”

　But his words again failed to reach his companion’s ears. Phlox mouthed “Huh?” and Lotus, clinging to the raft just as desperately as the other two androids, wore an identical look of confusion.

　In the distance, the surface of the sea continued to heave, another great mountain of water building up, its peak rolling ever closer. At first, when the waves were just beginning to grow heavy, Cactus had been fascinated, eager to observe them up close. But the novelty had quickly worn off. Now each time the surface of the water rose and tumbled toward them, he could only shriek in fear.

　“Oh my gosh! We’re all gonna die!”

　They all knew what was coming next: the sickening lurch as the raft dropped off the other side of the wave. They’d experienced it plenty of times already. Cactus screwed his eyes shut, wondering how many hours he’d endured being rocked to and fro by the terrible wind, rain, and rolling waves. He was now richly regretting the decision to set out to sea; if he’d known this would be part of the experience, he never would have left dry land.

　A fair amount of time had passed since their narrow escape from the Mountain Zone. After that, they’d traveled inland for a while, their purpose, as always, to search for treasure.

　At one point, they’d found themselves riding about in the “Lotus Tank,” a vehicle haphazardly modded from the remains of a Goliath-class machine lifeform. That, incidentally, had been Lotus’s new craze for the past while: naming everything he came up as the “Lotus whatever.”

　The tank had lasted all of two days and change before blowing up spectacularly, right in their faces. And then they’d moved on to the “Lotus Tank Mk. II,” which blew up during its initial test run, and then the “Lotus Tank Mk. III” . . . Lotus was really committed to the naming scheme. At least, Cactus reflected, his creations had made for a lively journey.

　Still, for all the trouble and time spent, they had yet to come across one measly bit of treasure. They’d pressed on, stubbornly walking until they arrived at a place with a view of the sea. And that was when one of them had declared that they ought to set out on a voyage across the water to see what they might find. Cactus couldn’t remember if he was the one to suggest it, or if it was Phlox. But that was beside the point.

　If they were going out on the water, they needed an appropriate mode of transportation. So Lotus drew up plans for a small watercraft, which he referred to as a “raft.” When Cactus saw the result, it didn’t inspire much confidence.

　A raft, as it turned out, was an extremely traditional and widely used means of waterborne conveyance throughout human history. But the construction was worryingly simple: the body consisted of a number of logs lined up and firmly bound together with wire. In the center was a smaller, perpendicularly oriented log from which Lotus hung a large, triangular piece of cloth that waved in the breeze. The cloth appeared to serve as the raft’s sole decoration.

　Cactus had to give some credit to the cost-efficient design, but he suspected that the raft afforded no more than the bare minimum of safety when it came to a sea voyage.

　Still, things hadn’t been too bad for a while after they shoved off, when the “Lotus High-Speed Engine” had still been functioning. The sky was a vast, clear expanse, and they were making a quite pleasant, rapid headway of twenty-four knots.

　But in their third day at sea, things took a turn for the worse. Without warning, the engine broke down, and they began drifting aimlessly.

　Cactus also broke down, just a little. He grabbed Lotus and shouted “Hey! What’s the holdup?!”

　“It, erm, appears to be a problem with the engine. Could be the salinity, yes . . . There’s a very high concentration of salt in seawater. Or perhaps it’s the high concentration of water . . . ”

　“Can’t you just fix it up real quick? Y’know, like you always do?”

　“No, no. Not possible, I’m afraid. Lack the necessary parts, see?”

　“I thought you brought spare parts along for the voyage?”

　“True. Very true. Did have the parts, until someone dumped them overboard.”

　“ . . . Huh?”

　“The box. The one you hit the shark-type machine lifeform over the head with. Remember? Just the other day? Our full set of engine spares was packed neatly inside.”

　Lotus glowered at the captain, and Cactus found himself trying to avoid the accusatory stare.

　And bad luck proved to come in threes, as the weather suddenly deteriorated. Cactus and his companions looked on in shock as the sea went from a calm, flat expanse of blue to a raging tempest of towering liquid mountains and vertiginously deep valleys. The hapless raft was left to ride out the storm, one moment rising several meters and the next plummeting back down.

　Eventually, one particularly monstrous wave lifted the raft high, high above the surroundings―far higher than any wave before. They hung there at the apex for a brief moment, their stomachs the first to sink.

　“Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh no no nooo!” Cactus yelped.

　The dread had scant seconds to sink in before they were all deep underwater, their poor raft overturned and floating away. Cactus flailed for air, but darkness swirled in.

“C’mon, Cap, wake up already!”

　The next thing Cactus heard was Phlox’s impatient voice. His eyes opened to the blinding light of the sun.

　“Huh . . . ?” he murmured. “Oh! Whew . . . It was just a dream. Phlox, it was so terrible. A nightmare, really. I thought for sure I was going to―ahhh . . . ah-choo!”

　As his sneeze subsided, Cactus realized he was drenched from head to toe―and freezing cold because of it.

　Phlox shook his head. “Wasn’t a dream, Cap. We went overboard. Washed up here.”

　“And . . . where exactly is ‘here’?”

　Phlox shrugged. “Good question.”

　It was certainly no southern isle. The vegetation lining the water was not tropical but temperate. Cactus glanced out to sea and saw numerous concrete structures poking their dilapidated heads from the water’s surface. They must have been the remains of some city from the era of human civilization―a city of quite considerable size, though now largely lost to the water.

　“Uh . . . Where’s Lotus?”

　“Where do you think? Out collecting junk like always. But this time we should probably be thankful. Seems we lost all our weapons when we fell from the raft. Lotus said he’d whip up whatever he could with what he could find. Wouldn’t want to be caught empty-handed, y’know?”

　Cactus patted his jacket pockets. Phlox was right. All his spare magazines were gone, along with the handy folding knife he’d taken to carrying on his person. The sea had swallowed every one of his belongings―even the small pouch of coins he’d tied around his waist.

　He felt his shoulders slump in defeat.

　“Guess our treasure hunt turned into a real disaster.”

　“Hey, we’ve still got our lives. Gotta be thankful for that, right?”

　“Heh. I guess so.”

　“And besides, our luck will turn around eventually. C’mon. Got something to show you.”

　Phlox began walking, and Cactus obediently followed. His boots sank into the ground with each step; the composition of the soil was perplexingly loose. After a while, the two reached a rather shoddy-looking cottage that was leaning to one side. Phlox stopped in front of it.

　“Why don’t you sit here and rest for a bit? I’m gonna circle the area and make sure our perimeter’s safe.”

　He added, “Oh, and don’t you dare think about going off on your own. You never know when you might run into a machine. C’mon, Cap. I wanna hear you say it. You promise to stay here?”

　“What am I, a kid?”

　When Cactus balked, Phlox gave an exasperated sigh.

　“I worry like this because you’re not a kid. What kind of adult goes wandering off, always ending up stuck in some dangerous situation? Remember that time―”

　“All right! All right, already! You’ve made your point!”

　Just don’t forget this when you start yelling for help, Cactus thought sourly, ’cause I’m gonna stay put right here, exactly like you told me to.

“Look! Look at this big haul! The machines here are nothing like I’ve ever seen before! Absolutely marvelous parts to salvage. Yes, yes, and in such abundance!”

　Lotus hadn’t shut up from the moment he got back from his scavenging excursion. Phlox, who had returned at about the same time, was hardly able to get a word in.

　“And listen to this!” Lotus babbled on, “The machines here? They’re walking all over the place!”

　Phlox raised an eyebrow. “Uh . . . yeah. We’ve seen the machines moving around before, buddy. It’s what they do. Why is that so―”

　“Not moving! Walking! With legs!”

　“We’ve seen plenty like that, too.”

　And they had―ones that scuttled around like insects, with dozens of tiny legs. There had been machines like that in the Mountain Zone. In fact, those particular machines had troubled the trio to no end.

　But Lotus decisively shook his head. “Not like that! I’m talking two legs, one alternately placed in front of the other in bipedal ambulation―the same means of locomotion that developed among the early ancestors of humans! Do you understand?! This is new! The machines have progressed! They’re attempting to tread the same evolutionary path as mankind!”

　Yeah, right, Cactus thought. And what next? Language? Were the machines gonna up and start saying, “Good morning”?

　Before Cactus could voice his rejoinder, however, Phlox piped up.

　“Well, speaking of unusual machines, I guess I did see something pretty weird today.”

　Lotus stared at him eagerly, hanging on every word. “Yes? Yes, what was it? A new physical configuration?! Some kind of novel behavior?!”

　“Both, I guess. Kinda transfixing, really,” Phlox responded.

　“In what way?!”

　“Well, it’s kinda hard to pin it down to one thing. Just weird in general, y’know? Like―”

　“Not that! In what way were you headed when you saw it?!”

　“Oh. Uh . . . over that way, I guess? But it was hours ago. I really doubt it’s . . . Hey! Lotus!”

　But Lotus had stopped listening as soon as Phlox pointed out the direction. He went dashing off.

　“Great. Should’ve known better than to get him worked up,” Phlox said dryly. He hauled himself to his feet. Stern words weren’t going to be enough to get Lotus back now. They’d have to give chase before they lost sight of the engineer.

　As they turned to go, Phlox pulled out an object. “Oh, Cap? This is for you.”

　“What’s that? A steel pipe?”

　“Not gonna do much, I know, but at least it’s better than finding yourself bare-handed.”

　Cactus had to agree. The trio had lost every last weapon and piece of equipment to the terrible waves. Cactus had woken up without so much as his trusty pocketknife. And Lotus, after offering to make some new armaments for them, had become so caught up in the novelty of the area’s machines, he forgot all about his promise. Not that this was the first time Lotus had let his curiosity get the better of him. Anticipating the possibility, Phlox had made a point of picking up a few steel pipes spotted during his patrol.

　Crude weapons now in hand, they glanced back to find Lotus scrambling up a cliff.

　“Oh, come on!” Phlox groaned. “How’d he get all the way up there?!”

　Flustered, Phlox broke into a sprint. Cactus, a bit resentful to be breaking his petulant vow to stay put, followed behind.

They were exhausted, but they’d somehow managed to scale the imposing cliff, and they’d caught up with Lotus, too. There was no trace of any odd-looking machine at the top. The engineer’s curiosity had apparently fizzled out when his mad scramble yielded no prize, and he’d plopped down on a spot of ground near the ledge.

　“Phlox!” he chided on seeing his companions. “I demand an explanation! I haven’t found a trace of this so-called transformer of yours. Not one!”

　“Whoa, whoa, I never said the thing could transform.”

　Cactus recalled Phlox claiming he’d been transfixed by the sight of the odd machine. Apparently, Lotus, in his enthusiasm, had misinterpreted it as a claim to have seen the enemy transform.

　Lotus glared at Phlox. “You did too say that!”

　“C’mon. What do you want from me . . . ?” Phlox lamented, bringing a palm to his forehead.

　“I was there when he said it,” Cactus jumped in, “and I can confirm that Phlox made no mention of a transforming machine hanging out at the top of a cliff.”

　He was trying to offer Phlox a helping hand. It was a rare reversal of their usual roles―the kind of situation that probably came around once in a century at best. But Phlox shook his head.

　“Well . . . it is true that I saw it at the top of a cliff, Cap.”

　“Seriously?! I was giving you a way out!”

　“At any rate,” Phlox continued, not paying Cactus’s offered help any mind, “the thing was moving incredibly fast. I figured it was long gone by the time I mentioned it.”

　At that, Lotus’s eyes regained their sparkle.

　“Incredibly fast, you say? Really?!”

　Phlox had unintentionally reignited the fire of Lotus’s curiosity.

　“Come on! We have to go find it!” Lotus declared. “I simply must see this ultra-fast transforming machine of yours!”

　He began to dash off again, but this time, Phlox managed to clamp a hand on the engineer’s collar. He clearly wasn’t anxious to play a second round of their earlier game.

　“All right, all right. We’ll go. Together. But first, we need to think about water. We gotta find a clean source so we can fill up.”

　At that, Cactus realized the last time he’d had anything to drink was aboard the raft, before the storm set in. Their purification equipment and spare tanks were undoubtedly at the bottom of the ocean.

　And the fact that they’d just scaled their way up a cliff wasn’t helping: Cactus was acutely aware of how much strength he’d used up in the climb. Without a water source, it was only a matter of time before they ran out of energy completely.

　“Fresh water . . . That’s gonna be a tall order,” Cactus murmured.

　There was nothing in their surroundings other than decaying human skyscrapers. It didn’t seem at all a place where they might stumble across a spring or river.

　But, at the very least, they’d begun to head inland. It seemed reasonable that potable water would be easier to find the more distance they put between themselves and the sea.

　“Well, let’s get looking, then,” Cactus said, and after clapping a hand on Phlox’s and Lotus’s shoulders, he began to lead the way.

They’d been walking for ages, it seemed, finding nothing more than one massive, half-toppled building after another. For a while, they’d entertained the hope of finding an old well―surely other Resistance androids would have dug one if any had traversed the area in the past. But they had no such luck; it seemed the land might not be suitable for well-digging.

　The sun beat down, reflecting off the asphalt for double the agony. Cactus felt as though every trace of moisture was about to evaporate from his body.

　“W . . . water . . . ” he croaked.

　“Dunno how much longer I can go on, Cap . . . ”

　“I’m done for . . . done for . . . !”

　The three were on the verge of collapse when an unmistakable sound reached their ears.

　They looked up.

　“Is that . . . a river?!” Cactus exclaimed.

　It was the sound of running water―of that much, they were certain. And they’d all heard it, so that ruled out hallucination. Cactus had his doubts about finding a real, true-blue river in the concrete jungle surrounding them. But it did, at least, sound like a considerable quantity of liquid.

　They ran with what little strength they had left, making directly for the source of the noise. It occurred to Cactus that the concrete jungle was showing some hints of green: trees lined the buildings with outstretched branches, and clumps of tall grass grew underfoot. For such a quantity of plants to flourish, surely there had to be a stable source of water nearby.

　“It is a river!” he exclaimed.

　Under a raised platform that had probably once served as a road, a narrow strip of water wound its way among the thick concrete pillars. On reflection, Cactus decided that “river” was probably a bit too generous: it was shallow, and the paltry amount of water it carried would have been difficult to describe as particularly clear. Given the amount of time unpurified water took to run through their onboard filters, drinking from the stream would be a fairly inefficient means of refueling. But Cactus figured this was no time to be choosy.

　The three approached the water’s edge, then froze on noticing a sudden flash of movement. Rather, Cactus and Phlox stopped. Lotus, for his part, seemed ready to make a mad dash toward what they’d seen: several machine lifeforms were standing just upstream.

　In a way, it was intriguing. The machines looked as if they’d come to the stream to play. They stood in its shallows, splashing each other. There were three of them―puny things with cylindrical torsos, round little heads, skinny arms, and stubby legs. Their appearance and the way they moved about was almost comical, and they exuded none of the ferocity of the machines that occupied the Mountain Zone.

　But machines were still machines.

　“L-let me go!” Lotus sputtered, as Phlox quickly pinned his arms behind his back and began dragging him away. “Just look at them! They’re adorable! Oh, please, please let me mod one!”

　Lotus squirmed to get away, and his cries grew louder. Cactus clamped a hand over the engineer’s mouth, fearing what might await them if they were noticed.

　To their good fortune, the three machines didn’t seem to pay them any mind. They simply continued to splash about in the stream. Maybe, Cactus reflected, they weren’t particularly alert to noises made by androids.

　Out of caution, they withdrew to the safety of the nearby buildings, intending to put some distance between themselves and that particular stretch of river. Lotus, distraught at being torn away from the enticing new machines, had to be half-pulled, half-dragged along. But they soon realized that the three machines at the stream were not alone. Others lurked about in the shadows cast by the great skyscrapers, pacing down the wide boulevards that traversed the city and prowling the grassy plazas punctuating the urban sprawl. Suddenly, the machines seemed to be everywhere.

　Every time Lotus spotted one, he threw a new fit, demanding he be allowed to capture it, and Cactus and Phlox had to calm him down all over again. They’d gone through the absurd routine several times when they realized they were lost and had no idea how to circle back to the river they’d worked so hard to find.

　“We’re really screwed now, aren’t we?” Phlox said.

　Cactus rasped, “Don’t speak. Waste of energy.”

　Even vocalizations increased their fuel consumption, if only slightly. Still, Cactus had to admit it was minor in comparison to the strength they wasted in the constant struggle to keep Lotus from dashing off. And he was still feeling the exhaustion from climbing the cliff earlier . . .

　Just recalling the ordeal was tiring. Cactus’s body felt heavy, and his vision grew dim. If he’d known things would get so bad, he figured, he would have stayed on the coast, gulping down the turbid seawater. He chastised himself for failing to find some other hypothetical water source along the way―one that was cleaner and not infested with machines.

　He was busy lamenting their situation when Phlox muttered, “I hear water.”

　Cactus felt sorry for him. This time, it was definitely a hallucination―a sign of how thoroughly his comrade’s auditory processes had deteriorated.

　But a moment later, Cactus spotted something several meters ahead that glittered in the sun’s relentless rays. He couldn’t believe it. Was Phlox right? Had they managed to stumble upon water a second time?

　The three hobbled forward, arm in arm to support each other’s weight. As they emerged from between the buildings, the world opened up to reveal water, precious water, stretching for meters in every direction. It was a large pool, and from crevices in the sloped hill on its far side, little waterfalls were gushing forth in all their glory.

　“We’re saved!” Cactus exclaimed.

　They splashed their way across the pool, hurrying to the nearest waterfall to scoop the precious liquid from it with cupped palms.

　Just as they began to carry the nectar of life to their mouths, a stern voice sounded at their backs.

　“Hey.”

　Then again.

　“Hey. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

　They turned to find a woman toting a rifle.

　“You don’t wanna drink that stuff. There’s a pretty good chance it’s contaminated.”

　What do you mean? Cactus tried to ask, but he found himself unable to speak. His hands hung centimeters from his mouth, the water they held so tantalizingly close. What ironic timing for his energy reserves to run dry. His vision faded, and then he was no longer in the waking world.

“Dieeeee!”

　Cactus felt a harsh thump on his forehead, along with an explosion of sparks. He jolted awake to find Lotus wielding an oddly-shaped lump of metal in his hand.

　“Lotus!” he griped. “For the last time! When you’re waking someone up, be―”

　Gentle, he meant to finish, but his mouth clamped shut when he saw the stranger. She was looking on, clearly unimpressed by the scene unfolding before her.

　She was a stranger, but Cactus recalled the large pool of water they’d found in the city ruins and how someone had appeared just as they were about to drink. This must’ve been the same woman who had provided the warning.

　“Seems we dodged a bullet, Cap.”

　“Huh?”

　“The pool. She says there’s a dead machine further upstream. A Goliath.”

　“Ah . . . So that’s what she meant by contaminated . . . ”

　Cactus recalled once sitting through a lesson about the characteristics of machine lifeforms. Many of them were known to emit substances that were toxic to androids―and they could continue to do so even after they’d ceased functioning. In fact, most such machines remained a source of potential infection long after they’d kicked the bucket. Cactus, Phlox, and Lotus had been moments away from gulping mouthfuls of the water without so much as a rudimentary treatment. They really had dodged a bullet.

　Their savior now peered over at Cactus with a concerned look.

　“How are you feeling?” she asked. “Can you move?”

　“Huh? Oh, uh . . . yeah.”

　With some help from Phlox, Cactus managed to sit up. His vision was back to normal, and he felt no trace of his earlier weariness. It seemed the woman had refueled his tank while he was out cold. He felt, quite honestly, on top of the world.

　“I’m fine,” Cactus said. “Thanks to you, that is. You really saved us.”

　He turned, slowly surveying his surroundings. They seemed to be in some sort of encampment. He could tell that much at a glance. The place was bustling, with soldiers walking to and fro, equipment stacked under tarps, and boxes full of various materials lined up on the ground. The camp appeared to be a major base of operations.

　“I’m guessing . . . you must be in charge around here,” Cactus ventured.

　That, too, was obvious at a glance, really. There was something about the woman―almost an aura she exuded―that put Cactus on the defensive. This was a rival leader.

　“My name is Anemone,” she said. “I’m the leader of the android Resistance that controls most of this territory.”

　He’d hit the nail right on the head. Not that it was easy to miss, Cactus reflected, for someone with as keen an intuition as himself.

　“Oh, uh . . . We’re . . .” Cactus faltered. “Jeez, how do I put it?”

　“Treasure hunters, or so I hear,” responded Anemone.

　Cactus mentally sighed. He felt certain that it was Lotus who let their story slip. Phlox was cautious; he wouldn’t have given details away so easily.

　“Well, the thing is,” Cactus said, “that’s just our cover story.”

　An outright claim to be hunting for treasure would likely arouse suspicion, and Cactus wasn’t eager to have their status as deserters brought to light.

　“The real reason we’re here is, uh . . . a top secret mission. Very hush-hush, see?”

　Phlox rolled his eyes and muttered, “Oh, for crying out loud . . . ”

　Cactus pointedly ignored the reaction, asking Anemone, “By the way, you wouldn’t happen to know of any good places around here to look for tr―I mean, uh . . . any places where lots of androids and machine lifeforms have fought? Y’know, like old battlegrounds?”

　Combat sites were, in effect, goldmines. Lotus could mod the enemy remains they found into weapons, and if they were especially lucky, they’d come across stray bits of android equipment. And, of course, sites of particularly large battles had far greater potential to yield items of exceptional value.

　“Old battlegrounds?” Anemone tilted her head.

　“It’s geographical information of critical importance to our top secret mission. We’d really appreciate any help you can offer.”

　“Sure. I think I know just the person who could help. I’ll see that she gets in touch with you.”

　“And, um, maybe you could spare some water and basic equipment . . . ? Y’know, to help ensure the success of the mission!”

　Phlox elbowed Cactus in the side, mumbling, “Don’t push our luck.”

　But Cactus steadfastly pretended not to notice.

After enjoying a nice, long break and procuring water and equipment thanks to the Resistance camp’s generosity, Cactus and party set off.

　“Hey, Cap? Don’t you think we’re imposing a bit much? Maybe we oughta dial it back.”

　“Now, now. It’s important to help each other out in times of need.”

　“Uh-huh. So we’re helping them, too, huh? Funny. Kinda felt like a one-way thing to me.”

　“Nonsense! That’s all in your head!”

　“Speaking of which, I’m positive Anemone saw right through our story. She had to suspect we’re deserters, but she just waved it away as everybody having their own problems to deal with. She just seems really, I dunno, open-minded and . . . understanding, you know? I can see how she got to be in charge around these parts.”

　“Great. Good for her.”

　To Cactus, hearing Anemone praised so thoroughly was like having his own credentials as a leader called into question. He didn’t like it. Not one bit.

　“Anyway,” Cactus said, eager to change the subject, “let’s get going. We gotta get on with our hunt. Treasure, ho!”

　He pointed the way to the Desert Zone. Anemone’s soldier, apparently quite familiar with the local topography, had told them that if there was any treasure to be found, it was probably in the sands.

　It was a little embarrassing, to be honest. Cactus had thought his cover story was pretty clever, but Anemone had seen right through it. Before sending the soldier over, she’d apparently explained, “We’ve got three visitors searching the area for treasure. Maybe you could give them some ideas of where to look.”

　As Cactus mentally kicked himself for his failures, they traversed the patches of grass and dirt between the buildings. They continued to catch glimpses of machines, but they’d learned that the area’s enemies were not hostile, so long as you didn’t get too close to them or launch the first attack.

　“I reeeally want to mod one . . . Just look at them. So demure. Such good little machines . . . ”

　“Yeah, maybe from this distance. But you heard Anemone. Get too close and they’ll be more than happy to take a swipe.”

　“Not a problem! If they come after us, I’ll simply shoot them with one of these bullets! They’re outfitted with a virus, you see, and―”

　“Ack! Please, no. Anything but that.”

　Back in the Mountain Zone, Cactus had seen quite enough of Lotus’s virus-loaded bullets and the zombified machines they spawned. Just thinking about the episode had his hair standing on end.

　“But . . . but . . . I haven’t modded anything since we washed up on shore. Not one single machine! Pleeease let me!”

　It was true that Lotus’s engineering skills had saved their hides during countless enemy assaults. But right now, there was no enemy they needed to engage. Cactus was perfectly happy to go on without riling up any machines and spoiling their safe and pleasant walk through the city ruins. He racked his brain for some way to focus Lotus’s attention elsewhere.

　As if reading his captain’s mind, Phlox piped up. “Hey! There’s that thing I was talking about!”

　Nice one, Phlox! Cactus mentally flashed him a thumbs-up.

　Phlox had even pointed a finger at some imaginary object way in the distance. Classic distraction technique. Still, Phlox seemed really dedicated to the charade. He continued to point and shout, “Look! Over there!”

　Cactus finally realized it wasn’t an act. Phlox was actually pointing at something.

　He followed the finger to find an unusually shaped machine in the distance, zooming along at considerable speed. It wasn’t as fast as, say, one of the enemy’s flying units, but it was still pretty quick.

　The mysterious machine suddenly turned and began barreling full speed in the trio’s direction. It zipped by just to one side, and as it passed, they became aware of a strange, high-pitched noise.

　“Get baaack heeere!”

　Lotus, eyes gleaming, tried to give chase, but the mysterious machine was far too fast. Its bluish frame soon vanished in a cloud of dust kicked up as it rolled along.

　“What in the world was that?” Cactus wondered aloud.

　Phlox lifted both palms in an exaggerated shrug; he had no idea, either.

　“Like I said. Some kinda weird machine.”

　They hadn’t encountered anything like it before. Not in the Mountain Zone, and not during their journeys across the inland plains.

　“Still, something about it seemed kinda familiar . . . ” Cactus mumbled.

　“Really? I’m pretty sure I’d remember something as strange as that.”

　“Hmm . . . I just get the feeling it’s a lot like something I’ve encountered before.”

　If the thing hadn’t been moving so darned fast, Cactus figured, he might’ve been able to pin the resemblance down. All he’d been able to get a handle on was that the mysterious machine was blue and kinda rectangular―and that it was blaring an odd, continuous pattern of sound. The sound, too, seemed to tickle some deep, long-neglected memory in his brain.

　“Ahhh, how I would love to mod a machine like that,” Lotus announced. “I really hope it comes back . . . ”

　Lotus stared after the machine, a look of intense longing on his face. Cactus stood beside him, gazing in the same direction.

　Then, for a moment, Cactus thought he’d figured it out . . . only for the epiphany to slip right through his fingers. Whatever the thing reminded him of, the memory was just out of reach, which only made it all the more frustrating.

　“Man, it’s on the tip of my tongue . . . What was it . . . ?” he murmured.

　The sound was so distinctive. In fact, he was so close to figuring it out, his ears were playing tricks on him. He could still hear it―so clearly, in fact, it was almost eerie. And it was growing louder . . .

　“Huh?! It’s back!” Phlox shouted.

　The strange, blue rectangular machine appeared again, blaring its rhythmical noise. It drew close, and this time, they realized it was carrying some kind of cloth fluttering from a stick.

　“Waaaaait!” Lotus shouted, again desperately giving chase, and again failing to get anywhere near it. The mysterious blue machine vanished into the distance again, this time headed out past the city ruins.

　“That sound . . . It’s kinda like . . . music, don’t you think?” said Phlox.

　Cactus considered the description; yes, an emission of sound using defined frequencies, alternating at regular intervals with organizational intent. The sound from the mysterious machine certainly did fit the definition of “music.”

　And with that, the old, old memory finally came dislodged. It floated up from the deepest recesses of Cactus’s mind, and an overwhelming wave of nostalgia washed over him.

　“The bargain day sale!” he exclaimed. “The one in the market street! That’s it!”

　“Uh . . . what?”

　“It’s a scene I remember―a part of my pseudomemory!”

　Cactus had finally put his finger on it. He knew the machine’s appearance and the music it played because of the memories implanted inside him―his individual pseudomemory, sourced, as for all androids, from the archives of human civilization.

　The pseudomemories were buried deep in the memory banks of every AI―so deep, in fact, it was hard for androids themselves to distinguish them from their own organically formed memories. Cactus’s understanding of the topic was limited, but he’d heard the purpose of the simulated memories was to allow androids to think and act more like humans.

　And apparently, each android’s pseudomemory was chosen at random; for some individuals, it was a complete mismatch in terms of gender or age. The memories weren’t necessarily happy ones, either. Some androids lived their lives burdened by the pain or sorrow of the scenes they happened to carry with them. Fortunately, Cactus’s own pseudomemory was decidedly innocuous―so innocuous, in fact, that it was a little boring. He’d nearly forgotten about it altogether.

　“I knew it sounded familiar!” Cactus continued. “There was this little truck parked outside the shop just across the way. It looked just like that blue thing that’s been zooming back and forth. See? My brain was right!”

　The truck in Cactus’s memory had been decorated with pink flowers and silver tinsel streamers. A tall, rectangular banner jutted from one side, on which were written the words “Bargain Day Sale.” There were decals, too―red stickers that each read “Insanely Low Prices!”

　The shop it belonged to sold an assortment of intoxicating fermented beverages, and each day the truck was taken out for deliveries by the proprietor, an old woman of seventy years.

　“Wow . . . That really takes me back. I wonder if the old lady’s still doing all right? Er, I guess she’s probably dead now. It has been about ten thousand years . . . ”

　“Speaking of which, who were you in that pseudomemory of yours, Cap?”

　“Oh, well, I was apparently a―”

　Cactus’s answer was drowned out by a new burst of the strange music. The mysterious machine was back to remind Cactus of the market street and its never-ending bargain day sale yet again.

　Now that he had a third chance to hear the melody, he was catching more of its nuances. He could hear what might have been a voice mixed in among the tones―the sound of someone singing. He’d thought it was the exact same tune as the one that was in his pseudomemory, but now he realized that certain parts of the melody were different from the song he knew. The music was similar, but not quite the same.

　As the machine zoomed off into the distance again, the pitch of the music seemed to twist and warp until it finally vanished. A pair of strange words flashed into Cactus’s mind with no apparent context: “Doppler effect.”

　“Maybe the machines are continuing to learn . . . Like, they’ve evolved again or something,” Phlox offered.

　“You think so?”

　“Well, what else could it be? I mean, a machine that reminds you of a pseudomemory? We’ve―”

　“Never run into anything like it before!” Lotus jumped in. “Just think! Machines imitating android memories! A marvelous evolutionary step, yes! Why, a trio of steps, really! They’re bounding up the evolutionary stairway! We simply must capture it for study!”

　Lotus rolled up his sleeves and set right to work. First, he started pulling a wire taut across the ground, and then he began digging a hole . . .

　His fervor went beyond reignited curiosity. The engineer’s hands were moving so quickly, Cactus wondered if he’d been outfitted with some kind of accelerator. The captain was beginning to feel apprehensive about whatever might come next.

　Would Lotus be able to stop the mysterious machine? It obviously had a good amount of power and acceleration. In fact, Cactus reflected, it was unclear whether there was a single machine that kept zooming around in circles, or if there were several of them, all identical, traveling over the same stretch.

　In any case, the peculiar music was soon back, along with its tra lee lah lee laaah sounds, which Cactus thought might be “lyrics.”

　“Hey! It’s almost here again!” Cactus announced. “You gonna finish in time?!”

　“No need to worry! I’m already done!” Lotus announced. He stood and immediately jumped to the side of the road.

　“Come on, Cap! Hurry!” Phlox said, grabbing Cactus’s arm and tugging him along so fast, the world began to spin.

　“Hey! What’s the big idea?!”

　“Get down!”

　Just before Phlox shoved his head down against the dirt, Cactus caught a fleeting glimpse of the mysterious machine being tripped up by the wire and spinning wildly through the air.

　Cactus, too, ate dirt, and just as he was about to complain about how unnecessarily rough Phlox was being, a blast wave washed over them.

　It seemed Lotus had planted a landmine.

　The engineer’s calculations were quite precise: he’d prepared the tripwire, then determined exactly where the speeding machine would slam into the ground, burying the landmine there with pinpoint accuracy. Cactus found himself impressed with the thoroughness of Lotus’s work, given what little time he’d had. Once again, Lotus had outdone himself.

　“Novel machine lifeform defeated! Another has fallen to my landmine!”

　Lotus twirled around in a little victory dance as he approached the machine, which now lay immobile on its side―or so they’d all assumed. Suddenly, it popped up into the air and righted itself before settling back down.

　“Ow! Owowowowowwww . . . That was really mean!”

　Lotus froze in his tracks, eyes as wide as they could go. Cactus couldn’t have stopped staring if his life depended on it.

　“D-did the machine just talk?!” he cried.

　The thing immediately responded, “No! I’m not a machine lifeform!”

　So it claimed, but to Cactus’s eyes, it certainly looked like one: a round head set atop a body fashioned of metal. The features on this one’s face were admittedly somewhat different from the enemies they’d seen before, but overall, Cactus felt certain the strange being displayed all the hallmarks of being a machine.

　“My name’s Emil. I run a shop here in the city ruins, selling cheap, high-quality items to any android who happens by.”

　Cactus’s eyes grew wider still. “You sell to androids? So . . . does that mean you’re friendly?”

　“Yes! Of course! Which is why I wanna know what the deal with the landmine is! Now my frame’s all bent up . . . ”

　Cactus considered this new information. If the strange being wasn’t an enemy, then access to archives describing human civilization seemed more plausible. That might explain the thing’s truck-like appearance, as well as the music it played as it zoomed around, so similar to the music from the market street of his simulated memory.

　It was hard enough to believe that a machine lifeform could speak, Cactus reasoned, and harder still to believe one could speak so fluidly.

　Lotus seemed to have reached the same conclusion. “All right,” he conceded, “so you’re not a machine. But that makes you some kind of unidentified lifeform, yes?”

　The engineer had edged closer to the strange being calling itself Emil. He was now stroking its spherical head with a look of longing.

　“Ohhh, how I would love to mod you . . . ”

　“K-keep your hands to yourself, please! If I got taken apart, who’d run my business?!”

　“Just a little modding. Just some teensy, tiny changes, yes?”

　“No way! I’m really busy, okay?! I’ve got over a hundred loyal customers waiting on me today . . . Okay, well, that might be a little bit of an exaggeration. I don’t exactly have any regulars yet. But still . . . !”

　Emil began to slowly back away from the three Resistance members.

　“I had plans this afternoon, you know? I needed to go stock up on merchandise, since I’m all sold out of broken batteries and dented sockets. But now thanks to you, I’ve gotta stop at home to fix up my frame!”

　“Hold on. You’re selling broken batteries?”

　To Cactus, it was beginning to sound like this Emil character dealt in rather questionable wares.

　Phlox, however, had a different reaction. “What other kinds of stuff do you stock? Any chance we could get a list?”

　“You wanna buy something?! That’s great! Thank you so much!”

　“No, uh, what I meant was . . . if we happened to find some of those busted batteries and sockets and whatever, could we sell them to you? I mean, it sounds like it’s a lot of trouble for you to go out and restock by yourself, right?”

　“Oh! I see. You’re saying you’d like to be my suppliers?”

　Phlox and Emil began a rapid, animated discussion, with offers and counter-offers traced in the dirt and furiously wiped away.

　“How much are you willing to pay us?”

　“This is what I can afford.”

　“C’mon. How about just a little more?”

　“No, no, I’m serious. My margins are tight enough as it is.”

　Exasperated, Cactus shouted, “Okay, that’s enough! We are not here to start a business. We’re on a treasure hunt! We’re not interested in scavenging for junk like broken batteries and dented sockets all day just to scrape together a few measly coins!”

　Phlox and Emil whirled around in unison. Their shouted response came in perfect sync, too. “Excuse me?!”

　Both began to storm toward Cactus.

　“What’s so bad about scraping together a little extra cash?” demanded Phlox.

　“Yeah!” Emil added. “Low margins, high turnover is the golden rule of retail!”

　“I think you’re forgetting the power of a little change, Cap!”

　“Absolutely!” Emil continued. “If you don’t know how to save on the small stuff, you’ll be crying whenever the big stuff rolls around! Respectfully speaking!”

　With the double-team of scolding, Cactus couldn’t get a word of defense in edgewise.

　“I . . . ! Um . . . ! I’m sorry, all right?!”

　But he resented the accusations. He didn’t have a problem with change. In fact, he never belittled coins. Why, just that very day, Cactus had bent down to pocket a few coins he’d seen on the ground in the Resistance camp.

　“Well, Mr. Phlox, I think we have an agreement.”

　“Put ’er there. I’m counting on the best deals you can give us, hear?”

　“But of course, friendo! Oh, and, uh . . . I guess I should let you know that my home is underground. Waaay underground, in the farthest reaches of the deepest cave you’ll find around here. It’s a pretty steep drop, so please be careful when you stop by!”

　And with that, Emil trundled off, his battered body squeaking and creaking as he went.

　Cactus wondered how in the world Emil managed the “steep drop” to get into his home, especially given his current state. It looked like the next fall he took would see him go up in flames. How did a truck get up and down a cliff, anyway? Though Cactus knew it didn’t have a thing to do with him, he couldn’t help but feel a bit concerned.

　“Well, whatever,” he decided. “Now, let’s really get on our way. Treasure awaits us. Treasure, here we come! Onward, to treasure!”

　“Onward, to batteries, sockets, bolts, nuts, coils, and screws!”

　“Onward, to mods, mods, mods, and more mods!”

　Cactus and his two companions set off toward the desert, each with his own goal firmly in mind.

Cactus didn’t want to waste another second in their search for treasure, but things just wouldn’t go according to plan. They’d found themselves stuck at the entrance to the desert due to a major sandstorm said to be on its way. No one was being allowed in.

　“No use getting your panties in a twist. Sit down and relax. The storm’ll pass when it passes.”

　That was the advice of the woman who had explained the situation to them. She’d introduced herself as Jackass and had begun blatantly sizing Cactus and party up, not showing the slightest trace of reserve as she looked them over.

　“Hey, I recognize those frames,” she said. “You guys must be from out west. One of the European squadrons or something?”

　“Y-yeah . . .” Cactus replied. “But, uh, we’re on a top secret mission, see? Can’t share too many details about ourselves, so, um . . .”

　“You don’t say. Top secret, huh?”

　Inside, Cactus was sweating bullets. She was sharp. If she was able to recognize their models and the region from which they hailed at a glance, who knew what else she’d pick up on.

　He figured Phlox was probably on his guard, too. Of the three, only Lotus continued chatting away with the woman. He seemed to get on with Jackass quite swimmingly.

　“Your rifle!” he exclaimed. “That’s a custom job, yes? I almost mistook it for standard issue, but, oh, look at all those lovely mods . . . A lightweight replacement frame and everything!”

　“You can tell, huh? Yeah. Built this baby from the ground up. Went striker fired, with a nice tight spring.”

　“Fascinating! Simply fascinating!”

　The two appeared to be birds of a feather. Lotus and Jackass went on like that, huddled over Jackass’s weapon, their rapid speech filled with all kinds of technical terms that didn’t mean a thing to Cactus, along with the occasional exclamations of “Mods!” and “Science!”

　First Phlox and Emil, and now Lotus and Jackass. Considering how well his comrades got along with the locals, Cactus was beginning to think the city ruins could prove a pleasant home for the three. He mused for a moment about setting down roots there if their search for treasure ended in failure. Maybe they could even join up with the local Resistance.

　Phlox interrupted his thoughts with a casual, “Hey, Cap?”

　“Yeah?”

　“It’s about what you said earlier . . . ”

　Like Cactus, Phlox seemed to have found himself without much to do as Jackass and Lotus chattered away.

　“What did I say earlier?”

　“The stuff about your pseudomemory . . . I wanted to hear more about it.”

　“Huh? Haven’t I talked about it before?”

　“I only remember you mentioning that you ran some kind of restaurant.”

　“Yeah, an udon shop.”

　“Oo . . . don . . . ? What’s that?”

　“It’s this food you make by mixing flour with water. You knead it real hard like this,” Cactus explained, the heels of his hands emphatically working the air. “And then you roll it out flat, and finally, you cut it into thin strips,” he said, using the edge of one hand to rapidly slice his imaginary dough.

　The pseudomemories were, admittedly, fake. But given the way they were installed in the AI, it was as if the recipient had experienced the episodes firsthand. So, despite the fact that Cactus had not once eaten udon in his entire life, he knew the taste of the noodles so intimately, it felt like he was finishing off a bowl right there as he shared his story with Phlox.

　“And then you pop ’em in a bowl and pour some tsuyu in there,” Cactus continued. “You gotta make it right, though, with plenty of flavor from the dashi. And then you top it all off with chopped green onions and a big, round maruten.”

　“Slow down. Tsuyu? Dashi?”

　“Tsuyu’s like a soup. It’s flavored with stock made from stuff like dried fish and kelp. That’s dashi. Real good stuff. Savory. Makes your mouth water.”

　Cactus knew that his added explanations only opened up more questions in Phlox’s mind. Androids didn’t eat fish or kelp. They didn’t have a need to ingest anything resembling “food” in the first place.

　Jackass unexpectedly turned toward him, clearly fascinated and bursting with questions.

　“Hold up. What was that about fish and kelp? I gotta hear more about this.”

　Cactus hesitated. “I mean, what else is there to say . . . ?”

　He was surprised by how thoroughly his story had captured her attention―she’d put her discussion with Lotus on hold.

　“The stuff about dried food. I’d heard of grilled fish before, but I didn’t know people dehydrated the things. Was that some kinda delicacy or something?”

　“No, it was pretty common. I think every home in my area had a stock of bonito flakes and dried sardines on hand. Oh, and dried mackerel, too―that was a breakfast staple.”

　“Really?! As in, they’d eat fish every morning?!”

　It was, of course, an anecdotal account, limited by the parameters of Cactus’s simulated experience. There was no way to say if every human routinely ate fish for breakfast, or if trends might have varied considerably between different regions and neighborhoods.

　“And what about that other thing you mentioned? The maru-whatever. I’ve heard of onions before―they’re a few species of interrelated plants, right? But that other thing’s news to me.”

　“Maruten? It’s made of ground, mashed fish. You press it into a round shape and fry it in oil.”

　“You’re shitting me. More fish?!”

　Unlike Lotus, Jackass’s interests seemed to extend beyond machines and weapons. She was getting so worked up just talking about fish, it was almost disturbing. Next, she wanted to know every kind of fish Cactus could “remember,” and every possible way to prepare them as food. She wanted to know if it was true that humans sometimes played a game in which everyone ate pieces of poisonous fish and waited to see who remained alive at the end. Her questions went on and on.

　But it wasn’t an unpleasant exchange. In fact, Cactus reflected, it was kinda nice having someone completely enraptured by the things he had to say, firing off questions like a machinegun and hanging on every word uttered in response.

　And the more Cactus talked, the more invested he became. He found other things he had once known but nearly forgotten, floating back up from deep in his mind.

　“ . . . And another thing! There were these events called ‘food challenges.’ I remember a real official-looking one being held at my little restaurant, and the contestants showing up with a big TV crew in tow. Couldn’t believe how many cameras they managed to shove inside the place. And the contestants just started doing their thing, shouting stuff like, ‘Condiment change!’ and someone would run over with some new topping they could use, or ‘Finished!’ and a guy with a stopwatch would hit the button and record the time.”

　“Okay, you’ve lost me.”

　“They were trying to see how much food they could pack into their guts within a given timeframe. It was a form of competition. Crazy, really. You wouldn’t believe how much food a human stomach could hold. I’d set out these enormous pots filled to the brim with udon, and the contestants would slurp them all up in a matter of minutes. You’d have thought they had black holes inside them.”

　“Huh. Sounds like a kinda . . . weird form of entertainment.”

　“I think it was part of human nature. If you told them there was a limit, they just had to try and push it.”

　He remembered one particular customer, as clear as if he’d seen her just the previous day. She’d scarfed down thirty-three bowls of tempura-topped udon, explaining that she was trying to set a new personal best.

　“Limits, huh? Yeah. I get that,” Jackass said, nodding enthusiastically. “I’m into pushing boundaries myself. Well, not me so much. I like to run other people through challenges to see how they do. Gotta get my hands on that juicy data somehow.”

　Jackass suddenly pulled out her rifle. Cactus’s stomach sank when he saw her eyes. Something about them looked all too familiar . . .

　“Huh? Hey! What’re you―”

　Gunfire cut Phlox’s yelp short. He fell face-first to the ground, clutching his chest.

　“Phlox!” Cactus shouted. He glared at Jackass, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

　“Relax. It’s just a tranquilizer dart. I want to tinker with his frame and AI for a bit while he’s out. I’m dying to figure out what makes you guys tick.”

　Jackass angled the gun toward Cactus.

　“H-hang on! Can’t we talk about this?!”

　It was the same sparkle he saw in Lotus’s eyes whenever the engineer was about to start modding a newly discovered machine. This woman was bad news. They needed to get away. Far, far away.

　Cactus felt the slam of the dart. He dropped to the ground.

　“Whaddya say, Lotus? Wanna gimme a hand for science? I figure this kinda stuff is right up your alley.”

　Cactus sensed Jackass right above his head. He felt her hand brush against him. This was his chance.

　“Graaaaah!” he yelled, lunging upward to steal her gun.

　At least . . . that’s what he intended. Jackass just swept his feet back out from under him, and he fell right on his ass.

　“Damn. You’re still kicking?” Jackass marveled. “You got some kinda resistance to sedatives? This just got way more exciting.”

　“No!” Cactus protested. “You’ve got it all wrong! Your dart just happened to hit my coin purse. There isn’t a single interesting thing about me, I swear! Modding me would be the most boring thing imaginable!”

　Had they survived the high seas only for things to end like this? Was Cactus going die at the hands of some inscrutable woman, his body tinkered with to who knew what end?! Had his life meant anything at all . . . ?

　“Dieeeee!”

　He heard an all-too-familiar shout and saw Lotus smash a rock over Jackass’s head. The woman groaned and slumped to her knees―she might’ve been an android, but a strong blow to the skull still had its merits. It’d slow the functioning of her brain unit, at least.

　“Behold my latest invention, the Lotus Smoke Grenade Mk. II Rev-A!”

　There was a dull thump, and thick black smoke began billowing outward, obscuring everything in sight. Cactus had never been more thankful to have Lotus as his comrade.

　“Great work!” he exclaimed. “Now let’s get outta here!”

　He hefted Phlox’s unconscious body over his shoulder and began to run, Lotus in tow. They ran for all they were worth―which, if you asked Cactus, was plenty: if there was one thing the trio did better than anyone else, it was running away.

　They ran and ran and ran some more. When they’d run for what felt like an eternity, Cactus risked a glance over his shoulder, only to find that there was absolutely no one in pursuit.

“How unlucky can we get?” Cactus heaved a sigh, only for a jolt of pain to run its way from the base of his spine to the top.

　“Owww . . . ”

　“I told you, Cap, you gotta relax. Tense up any muscle on your body right now and you’re gonna be feeling it everywhere.”

　They’d managed to get away. But in lifting his unconscious companion and sprinting to safety, Cactus had once again thrown out his back.

　“C’mon, now,” coaxed Phlox. “Deep breath, then let all the tension out of your arms and legs.”

　Now it was Cactus who was being carried by Phlox. The embarrassment was hard to bear, but he tried his best to put it out of his mind. He knew he should be thankful they’d made it safely out of the terrifying encounter at all.

　Beside them, Lotus fumed. “Modding androids. Hmph!

　“I want to mod machines!” the engineer continued. “Tell me, how could anyone be so indiscriminate as to start tinkering with their own kind?! What a complete lack of self-control!”

　It was a rather unpersuasive argument, Cactus decided, given how little self-control Lotus managed to demonstrate whenever a machine lifeform passed before his eyes.

　Of course, acting indiscriminately against those who were supposed to be your comrades . . . That, he had to admit, was on an entirely different level. The woman known as Jackass was a terribly dangerous android, indeed.

　And if that was how Jackass behaved, what about her commanding officer? Was Anemone even worse? Cactus could hardly believe that just a few hours earlier, he’d been daydreaming about joining up with them.

　At least Emil didn’t seem so bad.

　“But I guess,” Cactus mused aloud, “as reckless as Jackass was, she didn’t come close to those YoR-whatever guys.”

　He’d almost been killed at the hands of YoRHa Experimental M Squadron’s No. 6. That had been a miserable situation. “Unlucky” couldn’t even begin to cover it.

　But then again, No. 6 had been infected by a logic virus. Cactus figured he probably ought to cut the guy a little slack . . . or maybe that was just the healing power of time. Maybe Cactus only felt that way because he’d lived to tell the tale.

　After a bit more reflection, Cactus concluded that the YoRHa guys were not, in fact, bad people. Instructor Black had, after all, fought to the bitter end to keep Cactus and his companions safe.

　And that day at the airfield, No. 4 and No. 22 had kept Phlox and Cactus safe when they’d been running around in circles, chased by enemies near the control tower. No. 9 had tended to Cactus’s injured back, and No. 3 seemed to be an all-around good guy.

　No. 21 had plotted that dreadful mutiny, but without his reconnaissance work and strategies, they wouldn’t have made it out of the Mountain Zone in the first place. As for the android that came out of the mysterious container, Cactus never really had a chance to get to know him, but he’d pinned him as someone with a good heart. He recalled the hints of sadness that would appear in No. 2’s eyes when he believed nobody was looking.

　“Erm . . . I don’t know about that,” Lotus opined. “Those YoRHa people were all sorts of trouble. In fact, androids in general are just downright scary.”

　Phlox rolled his eyes. “Don’t forget that you’re an android, too, buddy.”

　The two began to argue, prompting a new line of thought in Cactus’s mind. Lotus’s assessment made sense. The three of them were deserters―and cowards, to boot. Of course they’d be frightened of Resistance groups, and of YoRHa Experimental M Squadron, with its top-of-the-line androids. Units like that fought endlessly for the sake of their war, never showing the slightest trace of hesitation. Really, they just didn’t have much in common with Cactus and his men.

　“All right, that settles it,” Cactus announced. “I’m ready to head somewhere far away, where there’s nobody else, and we can live out our days without a care in the world. We’ll score some treasure, get filthy rich, and―”

　“Cap? Remember that advice I gave you earlier, about being discreet? Y’know, dressing up your words?”

　“I’m talkin’ big moolah! Raking in the loot! We’re gonna have so much cash, we’ll be making it rain!”

　“Cap! Are you even . . . Wait. You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

　“Hey, a coward’s gotta dream what a coward’s gotta dream.”

　Cactus imagined a place where there was no need for killing, and where nobody would have to die. He longed for the day when he might visit that paradise.

　“C’mon, let’s get searching.”

　Cactus turned his head―carefully, so as not to disturb his back. Behind them, the endless rows of skyscrapers had faded away in the distance, leaving not a trace to be seen.

Jun Eishima was born in 1964 in Fukuoka Prefecture. Her extensive backlist includes stories set in the Final Fantasy, NieR:Automata, and Drakengard universes. Under the name Emi Nagashima, she has also authored The Cat Thief Hinako’s Case Files, among other works. In 2016, she received the 69th Mystery Writers of Japan Award (Short Story division), for the title Old Maid.

Yoko Taro is the game director for the NieR and Drakengard series.

Toshiyuki Itahana is an artwork and character designer at Square Enix. Major works include Final Fantasy IX, Chocobo’s Mystery Dungeon, and Final Fantasy Crystal Chronicles. He also designed the characters Devola and Popola for NieR:Automata.

Stephen Kohler is a translator of narrative fiction, games, novels, and comics, including such titles as Witch Hat Atelier, Magus of the Library, and Final Fantasy XV: The Dawn of the Future. He lives in western Japan with his wife and daughter.

Cover Illustration: Kazuma Koda

Interior Illustrations: Toshiyuki Itahana

Japanese Edition Design: Sachie Ijiri

English Edition Design: Misha Beletsky