When the transport enters conservation area 83, the afternoon sunlight has softened to its gentlest hue, tinting the world with lazy golden light. In the passenger seat, Teddy leans her head against the window, drifting in a gently swaying dream.
A strange, distorted violin melody barges into her dream. Teddy frowns, her lashes trembling before she opens her eyes in mild annoyance.
That sounds awful.
The off-key music drifts from the central plaza. A worn violin rests on the shoulder of an even older man. His fingertips dance clumsily across the strings, but his gaze never leaves his partner as she dances beside him, her steps just as frail with age.
(Sounds like a tuning issue...)
Teddy props her chin on her hand and watches quietly until the transport finally slows to a stop. You've finally arrived.
Thanks to its proximity to the logistics hub and its many resident craftsmen, this conservation area has better facilities and living conditions.
Are we there?
You've been driving all day. If anyone needs rest, it's you.
Besides, I'm not letting you hand out supplies alone. What if you collapse and make me carry you?
She hates to see you so tired, but she knows with the state of her M.I.N.D., it's safer to keep her hands off the wheel.
Quietly pushing her unease aside, Teddy changes her posture, leans a little closer, and flashes a sly grin.
Well, since you insist...
Then congratulations, you've just been drafted. I'm going to make you help me hand everything out, and you're not allowed to leave my side till it's done. Work hard, assistant.
The conservation area isn't very large. After the broadcast goes out, the residents and staff begin lining up in an orderly fashion to collect their supplies.
You hand the last packet of handmade candy to Teddy.
Oh, I see what's going on. Someone wants candy and is using me as an excuse.
Even so, she obediently picks out two candies and sets them on the table. Resting her chin in her hand, Teddy watches as you disappear behind the security door.
Teddy turns her gaze back to the people waiting in line.
Supplies here are plentiful enough. The line moves forward in calm, steady rhythm, and from time to time soft, cheerful chatter breaks through the quiet air.
Hello... I'm here to—
The old man steps up to the table and waits quietly. Without looking up, Teddy quickly checks the supply records.
Gerald, two standard supply packs. Please keep them safe.
A moment passes, and Gerald still hasn't taken the packages. The Construct girl looks up, puzzled, and finds the old man still standing there, silently waiting.
It's the same old man who had been playing the violin in the plaza.
His clothes are badly worn but scrubbed spotlessly clean. Deep wrinkles line his calm face, and his hair is neatly combed.
Sensing her gaze, the old man glances around hesitantly before stepping forward.
Is it my turn now?
Gerald, you may take your supplies now.
Gerald rubs his ear without thinking, eyes widening slightly as he tries to read her lips.
I'm sorry, I have hearing problems. Were you calling me?
He must have been deaf for a long time, because he no longer knows how loud he's speaking. His voice comes out too strong, and he immediately glances around, self-conscious.
(No wonder his violin sounded like that...)
Teddy lowers her gaze, quietly swallows a sigh, and pushes the supplies across the table toward him.
Gerald bows politely but doesn't leave right away. His eyes wander over the supply shelves, as if looking for something.
Is there something else you need?
The old man doesn't catch her words. His eyes land on the bag of candy, a look of joy and hesitation crossing his face.
You want this? Sorry, it's for the children.
Gerald struggles to read her lips.
Children...? No, no, it's for my wife. I wanted to get her a birthday gift. Could I trade some of these for one piece of candy?
He separates a small portion of his food rations and sets them neatly back on the table.
These... I'd like to trade them for one piece of candy.
...The candy is for the children.
The girl repeats herself helplessly.
Yes, my wife. It's a birthday gift for her... would that be alright?
His poor hearing makes even this simple conversation difficult. Teddy remembers his wife's dance in the plaza, then glances at the two lonely candies on the table and presses her lips together in thought.
What's your wife's name?
This time, Teddy raises her voice and speaks more slowly.
Deer. Her name is Little Deer.
The girl picks up one of the two candies on the table and places it in Gerald's hand. It is her own share.
This one's on me.
By the time you return from the back room, most of the first batch of supplies has already been distributed. Once you and Teddy sort out the next batch and double-check the records, you'll be ready to hand things over to the relief staff.
What did you say? Gerald and Dorris?
I thought his wife's name was... Deer...
Maybe not... I just can't tell if I ran into a really bad
Thankfully, no suspicious tale unfolds. Soon enough, the woman who had been dancing with Gerald in the plaza brings him back to Teddy's table.
The woman explains the situation to you as you check the supply list.
I'm so sorry. His cochlear implant's been broken for quite a while. I hope he didn't trouble you too much.
I didn't take anything from the kids' share. It was from my own.
But... why would he make up his wife's name?
Puzzled, Teddy looks at Gerald standing behind his partner. The old man can't hear the conversation, but he simply smiles, calm and gentle.
About that, he wasn't making anything up. My real name is Dorris, but when he first met me... I still went by Deer.
He wanted to surprise me, but... we don't really need the candy. If possible—
Sorry for the trouble, but... could I trade these supplies for some soldering flux instead?
It's a material used for electronic soldering.
You're planning to use it as violin rosin? That violin's already out of tune, and with his hearing condition, there's no way he could ever tune it again.
Pardon my frankness, but rosin won't make a difference.
At least trade it for something useful...
It's a waste.
Ma'am, are you sure you don't want to reconsider?
Maybe it is, but we're still managing. It's not like we're desperate yet.
You can take the supplies we're giving up and send them somewhere they're needed more. It's not much, but at least it gives our small act of romance a meaningful place to belong.
I don't mean to push my opinion... you should decide for yourselves. But most soldering fluxes contain acidic additives. They'll ruin your violin strings and bow hair.
That violin must mean a lot to you. Do you really want to destroy it like that?
Dorris doesn't seem surprised. She just shakes her head softly.
That's why it'll be our final dance.
Today is my birthday. After tonight, we'll say goodbye to it and keep the violin only in our memories.
...
Giving up something practical for a feeling that means more symbolically than in reality... are you sure about that, Madam? I thought you'd be the more rational one.
If romance weren't a little foolish, could it still be called romance?
...
Teddy lowers her gaze, lost in thought.
Clearly, you understand sentimentality much better than instruments.
Electrical rosin isn't designed with acoustics in mind. Even if you risk using it, it won't make the sound any better.
Be reasonable and keep the supplies. I can take a look at his cochlear implant. Maybe there's a way to fix it.
Making that violin sing properly again would be a much better idea than using soldering flux.
Dorris looks a little surprised, glances at her husband, then nods in agreement.
Resources in the conservation area are limited. Teddy goes through the parts on the table one by one, pouting in dissatisfaction.
The internal program's been recalibrated, but... we're missing some hardware parts. There's no way to get the cochlear implant working again without them.
None of these will work. I'll go check the storage room.
They call it a storage room, but it's really a cramped space stuffed with floor-to-ceiling shelves packed to the brim.
...
Teddy stands on her tiptoes, reaching for a box on the upper shelf. The effort makes the whole rack wobble dangerously.
You steady the shaking rack from behind and reach up easily to grab the box she could barely touch on her tiptoes.
At some point, your elbows brush, and a faint warmth of breath grazes through her hair.
...
In the Norman family courtyard stood a tall evergreen tree. Before summer ended, its shade pressed against her back, giving her a fleeting illusion of peace and escape from the world.
Tap tap tap—
Get back in there!
The moment her other self peeks out, Teddy shoves it back down without mercy.
Yeah, that's it... thanks.
Teddy takes the part from your hand and stands still for a long moment.
How am I supposed to leave if you're standing there?
When you step aside, the memory of that summer fades away. Teddy returns her focus to the cochlear implant, carefully inspecting the part in her hand.
After a while, she shakes her head.
None of these will work... Not surprising. A place this small wouldn't have the right parts anyway.
The system software is tidy and precise, but without the proper hardware, it can't function at all.
No. It can't.
You let out a sigh. Life isn't like the movies—things don't always work out.
Teddy follows you out of the cramped storage room, watching as you walk over to Gerald and Dorris to explain the situation for her.
The light and wind both seem softer now.
(The commandant is being too nice about this... I should handle it myself.)
As if reading each other's minds, just as she starts walking, you turn and wave at the girl still hesitating in place.
By the time she reaches you, Gerald has already put his cochlear implant back on.
It's alright. Don't worry about it.
In times like these, finding someone to share your life with is already a miracle. I just want to protect that blessing, to spend the rest of our days walking side by side.
Everything beyond that is a luxury... I'm long past the age of wanting everything to be perfect.
Music or not, we can still celebrate. As long as we're together, it's enough. In fact... I should thank you for helping us let go of a few needless obsessions.
Gerald can't hear the conversation, but he keeps smiling gently as he smooths Dorris's hair.
Let's get the music ready. Our transport has a speaker system. I can upload some songs from my terminal.
At least... it'll let you dance together one more time.
This time, everyone smiles.
After finishing the supply distribution, the two of you spend the rest of the afternoon setting up a small space for Dorris's birthday.
Once the clutter in the plaza is cleared, you hand Teddy a can of cherry electrolyte drink.
What about you? Aren't you going to...
As she looks up, you reach out and give her nose a pinch.
You're not resting either... you're terrible!
With her nose pinched, she grumbles through her muffled voice, swats your hand away, and glares in mock annoyance.
Tap tap tap—
Once again, you leave her behind. Teddy props her chin on her hand, watching your figure fade into the crowd, and lets out a quiet sigh.
Sigh...
Her sigh blends perfectly with Deerbear's voice. Teddy rolls her eyes, shakes the half-empty can, and tugs at the plush ears that have appeared again.
A little sweet, a little bitter... what flavor do you call that, I wonder?
Teddy shoots a sidelong look at the plush version of herself, clearly unimpressed by its tone.
Maybe I should reflect a bit. Being this passive-aggressive all the time is really annoying.
And that self-destructive habit where you insult yourself in the process? Also annoying.
So what if it's annoying? Life's full of annoying stuff anyway.
Who's gotten under your skin this time?
Teddy jerks her chin toward Dorris and Gerald, still setting up decorations in the plaza.
Look at them. The world's already in shambles, yet they still can't let go of their empty romanticism.
Candy, rosin, music, dancing—which of those will actually help them survive?
Probably none. But... they look happy, don't they? If all you ever want is survival, that sounds pretty sad too.
Teddy blinks slowly.
In a time like this, only people high on hormones could think spiritual comfort matters more than fixing the mess we live in.
Chasing the drama and tragedy of love with ridiculous ideas—what a waste... and how boring.
But the strange thing is... I always end up wanting to indulge that kind of foolishness anyway.
...Because being wasteful takes courage too, doesn't it?
As the can in her hand empties, Deerbear fades away with the last traces of sunset.
The moment her other self disappears, Dorris quietly sits down beside the Construct girl.
Sorry to intrude. Mind if I sit here?
Hm? Suit yourself.
Thank you, and... I'm sorry.
Sorry for what?
I designed and built his cochlear implant myself. Before I handed it to you, I already knew... it couldn't be repaired. Not here, at least.
You built it...? I thought... you were a dancer.
That was just a hobby. I used to be a physicist.
No wonder you'd come up with that awful idea about using soldering flux. Let me guess... applied physics? Or maybe an engineer?
Dorris smiles, not denying it.
Then why are you here? You could be somewhere that truly needs you.
When the Punishing Virus broke out, my research became meaningless overnight. Of course, I could have gone elsewhere, helped where my skills were needed.
But my talents aren't all that remarkable. In the great mountain of science, I'm just a tiny grain of sand.
Maybe I could have thrown that grain into the endless black hole of research... but in someone's world, a star would've gone missing.
To my beloved, I'm the only star there is.
So I chose to give up the equations, the ideals, and the grand causes—just to be a star for him.
...That's a waste.
That's the second time you've said that.
Sorry.
Still, you seem remarkably good at it.
You're an engineer, you should be—
(You should be somewhere that makes a real difference...)
What do you think I'm wasting? My life? But I'm the one living it, aren't I?
If it feels meaningful to me, then it isn't a waste.
And this... feels meaningful to you?
Then tell me, what gives life meaning? To me, it doesn't need to be complicated. Living itself is meaning enough.
What if, in the world of science, you were also an irreplaceable star? Would you still choose to live like this?
I don't have the data to support that hypothesis. Maybe you should ask that star herself—which life does she really want?
...
It doesn't matter. There's no choice to make. I'm... probably not that person's "star" anyway.
So there is someone then? The one who makes you wonder whether you're their star?
Dorris's eyes shift toward the human commandant standing in the distance, a knowing smile forming on her face.
Sometimes, the act of asking is the answer itself.
You're an engineer. You must know Planck.
The contradiction between atomic theory and entropy was both the downfall of classical physics and the birth of modern physics. And Planck, the man who opened that door, had been one of classical theory's most devoted believers.
His greatest achievement ended up dethroning the very framework he'd dedicated his life to defending, leaving him to spend the rest of his years fighting to protect the beliefs of his youth.
All that careful resistance... still couldn't stop the age of quantum mechanics from arriving.
We both know it... from the very moment doubt was born, the door to quantum theory had already opened. No one could stop what followed.
When something challenges the order inside your heart... that challenge itself is the answer.
Teddy's lips twitch slightly, forming something that can barely be called a smile.
Madam, I appreciate what you shared... but why are you telling me this?
Because when you spoke about "waste"... I thought I saw my younger self.
And I thought, if I ever had a daughter... I would tell her to follow her heart.
Sorry, maybe I'm talking too much.
No, it's fine... It's nice listening to you.
Despite her words, Teddy doesn't add anything more.
When I was young, I faced a choice I could not avoid. It was painful... I hope no one else ever has to go through that.
A dying lover who needed care, or a research dream that seemed beyond saving.
For the young Dorris, it was a choice far harder than she could have imagined.
I hope so too. No one should ever have to make that kind of choice.
Her Norman upbringing makes her reply flawless, while also building an invisible wall between them.
She stands and gives Dorris a polite smile.
It would be embarrassing if I couldn't fix a simple cochlear implant. I'll try again, Madam Dorris.
Thank you for talking with me. As thanks, let me think of a way to make your final dance perfect.
A heavy pulse rises from deep within Teddy's M.I.N.D. again, stronger than before, making her dizzy.
When her thoughts are clear, she only frowns slightly, as if she has already forgotten it.
Her mind is made up. She stands and walks toward the transport.
As she passes the one who unsettles her so easily, she stops for a moment, her eyes scanning them from head to toe.
You're standing right there. Why can't I look?
When the answer is right in front of you, it's hard not to take another look.
Dusk drapes a soft curtain over the square. The carefully adjusted headlights cast a glow like stage lights, illuminating the drifting dust and Dorris standing silently among it.
...Hmm, this one should do it.
Teddy turns on the speaker. A warm cello melody flows through the night. As it swells, Dorris lifts her hand, reaching for her beloved.
"Ode to Love."
This piece from the early Golden Age has survived time and is still remembered.
Under the moonlight, the headlights stretch the couple's shadows long across the ground. The aging lovers sway together, each turn steeped in years of quiet harmony and affection.
...
After exchanging a quiet glance, the two of you slip to the back of the vehicle, sitting together in the shadow of the trunk.
Plitsch—
You press a chilled can of cherry electrolyte drink against Teddy's cheek; she takes it naturally.
Keeping your voice down, you tap your can lightly against hers, the sound crisp in the night air. Teddy holds hers with both hands, sipping in tiny, delicate gulps.
Each time she swallows, her cheeks puff into the faintest curve of a smile—a small, surprising discovery.
That's enough. Time's up.
Teddy suddenly leans forward to peek at the "stage," dodging your poke.
The car speakers crackle, struggle for a moment, then fall completely silent.
She blinks and flashes a mischievous smile.
Soon, the delicate, lingering notes of a violin rise through the night. The soft harmonics intertwine in the air like threads of mist, and the bright, clear tones blend with the moonlight to weave a fabric of sound.
Following Teddy's movement, you lean forward in surprise and see Gerald once again playing that worn-out violin.
A good ear really makes a difference. Sounds so much better once it's properly tuned.
Mmhm.
The girl folds her arms, stretches a little, and smiles with satisfaction.
A surprise after a setback—now that's true romance.
You said it yourself I'm a capable engineer. Like I'd let a little cochlear implant beat me. No parts? Then I take one apart and make it work.
She doesn't answer. With the violin playing softly, the girl begins to hum, completely absorbed in the music.
This melody would make a perfect interlude... I wonder if Gerald would mind if I added it to my song.
Yes. It's my most important piece for now.
The violin music continues late into the night. Before it stops, you've already fallen asleep from the day's exhaustion.
Teddy drinks several cans of electrolyte solution until her cheeks turn faintly red. Carefully, she lifts her hand above your face, tracing the familiar features through the air.
...
Tap tap tap—
Glug, glug, glug...
Teddy is no longer surprised by Deerbear's appearance.
That's electrolyte solution, isn't it? How do you make it taste like a high-proof cocktail?
Simulating the chemical reactions of a cocktail breaking down in the human body, running the logic and presenting the result—it's not hard for me.
Oh... Humans get drunk in joy or in pain. Which one is it for us right now?
Both, and neither.
After all, when there's something you want but can't have, you need an excuse to cover your loss of control.
Tsk, we were first-rate scientists, and in just a few days we've turned into third-rate poets.
How terrifying. Hormones, dopamine, oxytocin.
...You're hopeless. Fine... To poets.
The real and the virtual cans clink together.
Only one insult today? What are you thinking about?
In Madam Dorris's world, discordant music and imperfect hearing are perfectly acceptable. Life's responsibilities and grand ideals can be abandoned at will.
Her love needs no ornate decoration. Romance embraces every imperfection. That invisible gap—she just crosses it so easily...
Then what's holding us back?
Because as "Teddy," we're not allowed to cross it. We can't be less than intelligent, less than rational, and we can never let emotion take over.
The world needs a useful Teddy. Not one who can be loved.
Around that person, I'm better off being a competent and useful partner.
Can't you choose not to be that?
A bear trapped in a cage can escape if it breaks free. But the bear head hanging on the Norman family's wall was cut off at its bravest moment, hung high as a symbol of glory.
People in that house have come and gone, the paint has peeled, the fire's gone out, prosperity and honor have both ended, everyone's left... yet it's still nailed to the wall. Every time I think of it, I wonder...
Wonder what?
I never tried to find out. Just like now, looking at Dorris and Gerald's white hair, I don't want to know what this emptiness inside me really is.
Deerbear furrows its brow, sinking into deep thought. Slowly, ripples of realization spread across its once-bewildered face. And within those ripples, Teddy finds her own moment of clarity.
So that's it. That emptiness inside me... it's the life that was taken from me.
The words are spoken so softly they could be mistaken for a sigh.
It's alright. I've come to appreciate my "usefulness." Or maybe... I'm just glad I can still do something for this world, instead of falling into obsession, losing myself, and turning back into an ordinary person worthy of love.
Even though I've left the Norman Mining Corp, even though that past is sealed away, I still can't escape the ideas they branded into me. I'll fight them for the rest of my life.
The bear head's eyes still hang in there, watching me. "Being useful" is safer than "being cute." "Having value" matters more than "being loved." That's my eternal curse.
Was it you who said it, or was it me... that waste can be a kind of courage?
...
Maybe I can't be loved forever, but I can keep being "useful." That much, I can do.
See? In the end, I'm still living by the Norman family's rules. How annoying.
Being "useful" might not be everything. It keeps me a little distant, a little short of what I really want... but it's safe. It lasts.
It's the best balance I can manage. The safest way to have both.
So that's why you pulled that part from the vehicle? So when this trip ends, we'll stop right at that "useful" place you keep talking about?
Teddy opens her eyes, and in their purple depths, confusion gathers like a heavy mist, deep and impossible to read.
Teddy, you really don't go easy on us, do you?
The transport vehicle is loaded once again, ready to head for the next stronghold.
Dorris walks with them all the way to the edge of the conservation area and leans close, whispering into Teddy's ear.
The one who seeks truth builds their own cage; the one who finds answers learns to live with the pain.
Like a mother's gentle reminder, Dorris taps a finger lightly against Teddy's forehead.
"Deer" or "Dorris," whatever the name, whatever the role—it's yours to choose.
Your past doesn't define you. Your choices do.
Don't keep fighting yourself, alright?
Cumulus clouds drift like herds across the endless blue sky. The sunlight, filtered through them, turns soft and hazy, filling the world with a calm, gentle glow.
This peaceful weather... who knows how long it will last.
