Akane’s eyes widened as Hamuko continued listing things out—one after another, more ridiculous and outlandish each time.
“I mean, it’s not exactly a robot body,” she started, attempting to interject, but the girl just kept going. “It’s… well, maybe it is, but it’s mostly built out of cognition and code, so it’s more like—”
Her smile twitched, like she was genuinely holding back a grin, and before she even realized it, she had started typing into the air—quick, automatic motions, like she was noting all of this down in her digital notepad for later reference.
And then she noticed.
Hamuko’s voice was rising, just enough to be intentional, just enough to—
Zenkichi exhaled sharply, trying to keep his anger in check, his grip on his holster still taut from the conversation with Igor. “So if this place is overflowing with cognition,” he said gruffly, “then what happens when we leave? Will she exist normally in our world which is strung up by cognitive phenomenon?”
Igor was silent.
And that alone was enough to set his teeth on edge.
He hated that silence. That smug, knowing, withholding silence. The one that meant Igor was holding all the cards close to his chest, and Wolf wasn’t getting a single one unless the damn long-nosed man was hauled off his ass to follow through with his questions.
He’d been this close to punching something—maybe even that damn smug nose of his—
1/2
“I mean, it’s not exactly a robot body,” she started, attempting to interject, but the girl just kept going. “It’s… well, maybe it is, but it’s mostly built out of cognition and code, so it’s more like—”
But then—
Games. Dressing up. Graffiti. Skateboarding. Tattoos. Clubbing—
Her thought process derailed completely.
She stared at Hamuko, mouth slightly open.
What.
That was an option? That was even possible?
Her smile twitched, like she was genuinely holding back a grin, and before she even realized it, she had started typing into the air—quick, automatic motions, like she was noting all of this down in her digital notepad for later reference.
And then she noticed.
Hamuko’s voice was rising, just enough to be intentional, just enough to—
Zenkichi exhaled sharply, trying to keep his anger in check, his grip on his holster still taut from the conversation with Igor. “So if this place is overflowing with cognition,” he said gruffly, “then what happens when we leave? Will she exist normally in our world which is strung up by cognitive phenomenon?”
Igor was silent.
And that alone was enough to set his teeth on edge.
He hated that silence. That smug, knowing, withholding silence. The one that meant Igor was holding all the cards close to his chest, and Wolf wasn’t getting a single one unless the damn long-nosed man was hauled off his ass to follow through with his questions.
He’d been this close to punching something—maybe even that damn smug nose of his—
And then—
Go clubbing-