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Marina had promised her something that no one else had given her, and it was as simple as that.
At least, Four told herself that. If…someone, not anyone in particular, ever asked her why she never came back…she had her answer.
Not that anyone ever would. For as many people she combed through, finishing the touches on their new sludgy bodies, or readjusting the additional limbs or eyes or teeth, or sanding down their reinforced spines, or spying on them through the monitors Marina set up, the Memverse could not be considered lively. It was a rarity she saw more than five people in a…day? A week?
She sat back in her seat, staring mindlessly at the monitors glaring down at her. There were no measurements of time here, she remembered. There was no rain, or snow, or day or night. No sun, no moon. The constant blinding white-hot spot in the very center of the faded peach sky might’ve been the sun, she supposed, but it never moved. The air was stale, filtered, and perpetually a perfect lukewarm. There were no clouds, and the distant haze surrounding this world’s city never lessened; the towering, pitch black spikes beyond it were always obscured, their penetrating points the only clear visual she had of them.
Marina said the utter non-movement was integral to her vision. Such changes in Inkopolis served no purpose, so she removed them in her simulacrum. And that was all that mattered—purpose. The Memverse made more sense than the “real world”, as things here only existed if they were purposeful. Inkadia was full of garbage that, if she thought about it, didn’t deserve to belong. Salmonids. Octarians. Heatwaves. The ocean. People she didn’t like. People she found annoying. People who were…her…friends…
It was all deception. It was a matter of convenience, and when she failed to meet their growing expectations they discarded her. She wasn’t able to catch up, or maybe her skills just were never as good as theirs were now, and the NSS just simply couldn’t bother with plateauing people like her. They didn’t even have the gall to tell her outright, to keep her from wasting so much of her time with them, they simply shrank into the fog of stillness, growing quieter and quieter, drawing into themselves to form a barrier she couldn’t penetrate.
The “captain”, the one she loathed the most, baited her from time to time, with training sessions and, the most dangerous things of all, the allure of her touch and her voice, with her words tinged sweet with encouragement and praise. Her hunger for such things consumed her. She wanted nothing more to be something, anything beyond a country girl; she wanted nothing more than the hero of Octo Valley to love her, to hold her, to pet her, and to tell her how she was such a good girl, and how happy she made her. The sessions grew longer, more tedious. She found herself wearing down within an hour at best, often times within minutes. What was asked of her exceeded her body. Her wretched, bulky body that didn’t seem to respond to any kind of exercise, or any amount of training; on top of her embarrassing misses or misjudged movements, she’d be drenched in sweat and terribly out of breath. Surely that was a part of why they ignored her. Who would want to be seen with such a pig? A pig who never improved, no less?
But her memories of Three’s smiles, the blush on her cheeks and the spark of excitement in her dark eyes as she stroked Four’s head, the warmth of her hands and the pleasure in her inflection as she complimented her…
Her chest tightened, to her irritation, and for a few moments she hung her head, desperately biting back tears she had believed to be now impossible. Stupid, stupid, stupid, why didn’t Marina address that? What good was crying? Why would a manager like her ever need to cry?
Something black dripped onto her suit, and she soon recognized the burning streaking down her cheeks contrasting sharply against the unchanging air. It was too late. Pointless emotion won again, and she howled in frustration before burying her face in her claws and hiccuping between unmistakable sobs.
She would meet them again eventually, no matter how long she’d have to wait, and she swore to herself they’d learn why they shouldn't have abandoned her.