‘Only one rule,’ says Mirage, slapping down a blank piece of paper before them. ‘Anything with the word “machine” in it gets you banned from naming anything ever again.’
V1 taps its foot beneath the table, squeezing more chilled blood directly onto its plating. V2 side-eyes it judgmentally, twiddling her thumbs and staring down at the piece of paper, gaze strangely unfocused.
V1 looks around. Various power tools rest on the shelves around them. It spots an electric drill near Mirage’s head and wonders if V2’s boss would let it borrow it to drill holes in discarded planks of wood. It’s always been V1’s favourite activity back in school. Let a machine experience some nostalgia?
Mirage snaps her fingers in front of V1’s faceplate. ‘Focus.’
V2 pipes up, sounding tired. ‘Something like… I don’t know. I forgot what I was going to say.’
And that catches V1’s attention. ‘Dropped your processor on the way?’
‘You weren’t the only one on a date last night,’ she says, sounding smug despite the fogginess of her voice. ‘You may have gotten some game with an archangel, but I—‘
Mirage coughs loudly. V2, looking very punchable, shuts up and tilts her chair back on two legs, swinging back and forth.
V1 feels the pieces slide into place; Mirage’s obvious embarrassment, the displaced tubing of V2’s abdomen, a loose wire sticking out of her collar, and the general air of superiority over getting laid.
‘None of your business,’ snaps Mirage, catching V1 looking. ‘Band names. Come on.’
‘Put a colour in it,’ suggests V1, and Mirage writes that down. ‘Maybe a fruit of some kind.’
‘Lame,’ says V2. ‘You have to reference an old movie quote that nobody’s ever heard of.’
Mirage writes that down too, resting her head in her other hand, fans working overtime as she thinks.
‘It’s right on the tip of my tongue,’ she mutters, ‘The disc is still in my suitcase… I can’t remember the name. It was about music.’
‘If all else fails, you could take a song lyric or two.’
‘Whiplash,’ says Mirage, snapping her fingers. ‘That was the movie name.’
‘I don’t fancy being reminded of my grappling hook every time I have to play,’ V2 says. ‘Needs a longer name. Make sure the abbreviation isn’t lame.’
‘“Mirage and the Vs”?’ V1 offers. Mirage shudders.
‘Don’t like having my name on there.’
‘Is the archangel going to be in here?’ asks V2. ‘He has two weeks left with us, right?’
‘That’s part of why I’m redoing everything,’ says Mirage. ‘Just in case… the organ parts have to be cuttable.’
V1 pushes down the surge of uneasiness at that. ‘What are you suggesting?’ it asks V2.
‘Wouldn’t want to name a band based on a member who’s in it for less than a week.’
‘Tell us anyway,’ says Mirage, taking the bag of chilled blood from V1, ignoring its distressed beep.
‘“Wires, flesh, divine”.’
‘Sounds like an innuendo.’
‘It’s potent imagery,’ says Mirage, putting down her snack to write it down.
V2 stretches, wincing when her exposed wire grazes against her neck. She carefully shoves it back into her collar, twitching all the way.
‘When you said you wanted to make your music weirder,’ says V2, ‘What did you mean by that?’
‘I’ve been holding back. It still makes sense to most people. Did you hear the applause?’
‘I thought that was a good thing.’
‘It is,’ says Mirage. ‘They think it sounds good. That’s all. I want them to start throwing forks at me from how angry it made them feel, or sit in silence and think about everyone they’ve failed in their lives.’
She taps her pen against the table. ‘Point is, I want it to hurt.’
V2 catches V1’s eye, the motion not unnoticed. Mirage coughs pointedly and waves her piece of paper at the two of them.
‘Let’s get back to work.’
V1 cracks its knuckles, the sound making V2 jump. She deliberately turns her back on it and says, ‘The religion angle? Maybe we could work with that.’
‘“No rest for the wicked”—no, kinda generic. Come on. V1, this is your field.’
‘Apostasy. Heresy. Something.’
V2 balks but Mirage writes it down, fingers tapping incessantly against her pen, thinking.
‘I think we’re onto something,’ she says, drawing a line between V1 and V2’s suggestions.
~~~
The sun is still up when they head back to campus, cutting through the park for a shorter path back to their dorms. V1 walks ahead, trying to select a playlist for what it expects to be a fifteen-minute walk, when V2 taps it on the shoulder.
It looks over to where she is pointing.
‘Oh, God,’ says Mirage, catching up to the two of them.
Clustered around a park bench are a dozen Virtues, sky-blue wings flapping as they hover in place, their humming seeming louder than usual. One of them turns red for a brief moment when its neighbour bumps into it before returning to its usual colour. It floats up, attempting to find a better vantage point before noticing V1 looking.
Its myriad eyes fix themselves on the three machines. One by one the other Virtues follow suit, and for a moment everything is still as they are locked in this strange staring contest.
Then, in a symphony of wingbeats, the angels disperse, scattering to all corners of the park like startled pigeons. Beneath fluttering wings, V1 catches sight of a familiar figure sitting on the park bench, smoothing out the folds of his skirt, holding a lit cigarette backwards in his hand.
Gabriel catches them looking and quickly snuffs out the cigarette. ‘I don’t smoke,’ he says in answer to Mirage’s questioning gaze. ‘I was holding it for Jacob.’
‘Perfect timing,’ says V2, shoving past V1. It tries to trip her up but she deftly avoids its outstretched foot, unfolding her wings and extracting a hardcover book from one of the topmost blades. She throws and Gabriel catches the book, looking confused.
‘I found your guy,’ she says, hands on her hips, sounding as smug as ever. ‘Page fifty-seven. He left an email.’
Gabriel flips the book to the page. V1 hears the barely suppressed gasp he lets out, trying his best to keep his composure even as his hands begin to tremble.
‘Thank Mirage for that,’ says V2, making Mirage look down at her shoes. ‘She scanned through everything twice just to make sure. Only one blue skeleton here.’
Gabriel seems lost for words, looking from V2 to Mirage.
‘My gratitude alone would be inadequate as thanks,’ he says, voice strangely strained. ‘I owe you a debt I cannot pay.’
‘Don’t mention it,’ Mirage says quietly, still looking away. ‘Just a favour for a friend.’
V1 does not miss Gabriel’s shaky exhale. V2 shifts her weight from one foot to another as he cradles the book close to his chest, sounding like he is about to cry.
‘Are you okay?’
Gabriel nods. V2 looks visibly relieved when she turns to V1, shrugging imperceptibly.
‘I heard you wished to overhaul your current project,’ says Gabriel, perfectly calm again. Mirage’s head snaps in V1’s direction.
‘I told you not to mention it to him!’
‘Because you want to cut him from the project? He deserves to know.’
Gabriel holds up his hands. ‘Please, do not argue for my sake. My choice is made. I will ask for one more month to stay here.’
‘No,’ snaps Mirage, then softer, ‘Do whatever’s safest for you.’
‘They cannot hurt me directly,’ says Gabriel, a hint of haughtiness back in his voice. ‘The Father’s word forbids it.’
He gets up from the bench, carefully tucking the extinguished cigarette into his bag, alongside the yearbook. ‘I have an essay to finish. If you require my company, it will have to wait for tomorrow.’ He looks from V1 and V2 to Mirage, who still looks extremely uncomfortable. ‘Thank you again,’ he says softly.
‘I’m coming with.’ V1 takes a step in his direction. Gabriel leaps back, holding up a hand.
‘No. You stay there. I can’t focus with—You are a distraction. I—I have my notes. I don’t need any of your help.’
He strides away, seeming to accelerate as he walks down the path, breaking into a sprint as he heads in the direction of the exit.
Mirage exhales slowly.
‘I should have just asked him,’ she says. ‘Now he thinks I don’t want him around.’
‘He’ll probably stay whether you want him to or not,’ says V2, shielding her optic from the sun. ‘Begging for an extra month from that guy… he’s risking a lot.’ She brightens. ‘If anything, hearing the band name will probably make him reconsider.’
‘Don’t say that,’ groans Mirage. ‘I’ve fucked up enough. Maybe we should rename—‘
‘I’m not renaming “The Cables Hum Heresy”,’ signs V1. ‘At worst he’ll think it’s cringe. He won’t leave.’
‘How are you so sure?’ asks Mirage.
‘That’s between him and himself.’
‘What the HELL happened on that date? What did you do to him?’
‘Throw that wrench at me. Maybe I’ll answer if you hit—‘
V1 dodges to the side to avoid the wrench V2 throws at it. ‘Sloppy,’ it taunts, before breaking into a full sprint, zigzagging occasionally to dodge the branches V2 throws at it.
Mirage watches the two of them shake in silent laughter, sighs, and follows, grass crunching beneath her feet as she walks.
me taking extra care to only make Gabriel and Mirage inhale/exhale because i don't think the V models would bother imitating breathing just to emote
don't ask me what Mirage is i don't know
also note the updated tags! this arc can get pretty heavy