Vell put down the last rune in the sequence, and gave Lee the signal to charge it. Once the final rune lit up, Vell activated the entire sequence and the machine sprung to life. The metal hunk inside the makeshift frame started to warp and twist under magical force, eventually taking the shape of Himiko’s desired piece.
“There you go,” Vell said. “It’s a bit mana intense, but this should fill in for your 3D printer until you can get it fixed.”
“Ugh, thank you, guys,” Himiko grunted. She picked up the newly forged metal piece with her oversized prosthetic hand, and placed a new piece of metal to be shaped into the machine. “I’d be screwed if not for you and your incredibly esoteric problem solving abilities.”
“A replacement 3D printer is one of the less weird problems we’ve solved lately,” Vell said.
“It’s kind of nice to do something normal for a change,” Lee said. “What do you need all these parts for, anyway? Mass production isn’t usually your forte.”
“Sarah’s not rebuilding her army of killbots, is she?”
“No. Well, not as far as we can tell,” Himiko said. Sarah was currently occupied with Kanya and Harley further down the workshop, handling other stages of the assembly process. “This one’s all me. I’m doing a favor for my sister.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you had a sister.”
“She’s way older than me, so she’d moved out by the time I was really old enough to remember anything,” Himiko said. A fourteen-year age gap had made it hard for the two to do much sibling bonding. “We get along well enough, but we’re not super close.”
“Close enough to be building an army of robots, apparently,” Vell noted. “Why does she need an army of robots, exactly?”
“Would you believe it’s because she’s a fashion designer?”
“I’ve heard stranger,” Vell said. “So she just, uh, puts the robots in the outfits?”
Himiko nodded as she continued assembling another fashion model robot.
“Why doesn’t she just use actual fashion models?”
Before answering Lee’s question, Himiko checked her phone, and then stood up from her workbench.
“You can ask her yourself.”
Himiko opened the workshop door, and her sister arrived in exactly the way everyone expected. She burst into the room with a confident, hip-swaying strut, causing the glimmering fabric of her tight-fitting dress to shimmer in the light. She removed the wide-set sunglasses she wore and looked down at her significantly shorter, and far less elegant, sibling.
“There you are!”
The height difference -and limb difference- made the hug very lopsided, but Himiko embraced her sister all the same.
“Guys, this is Matsuki,” Himiko said. “Matsuki, these are the guys I’ve been telling you about.”
“Oh, lovely,” Matuski said, clapping her hands as she spoke. Himiko had told her lots of stories about her friends at school, so no further introductions were necessary. “You all look as delightful as I expected.”
Matsuki stepped up to shake a few hands and bowed gratefully to the gathered students. She had a dramatic flair to every move she made, as if she was putting on a show even while doing something as simple as shaking hands.
“Thank you so much for the help. I’m afraid my skills begin and end at fashion, but let me know if there’s anything I can ever do to return the favor. Except you,” Matsuki said, singling out Lee.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I can’t improve on perfection, obviously,” Matsuki said with a wink. “That jacket, those slacks? Absolute delight.”
“Oh, um, thank you,” Lee said. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her grey coat and blushed profusely.
“Ooh, I could go for a makeover,” Harley said.
“I’d be delighted,” Matsuki said, giving Harley a quick scan. “Are you married to the all red color scheme, or-?”
“Red is my color,” Harley insisted.
“I can work with that,” Matsuki said. “We’ll talk after the show. Himiko, are the robots ready, or did you need more time?”
“I think Sarah is just finishing up putting the skin on them,” Himiko said. Sarah gave a thumbs up from across the room as she finished latching a synthetic face onto a robotic model.
“Right. Should I ask why she had so much fake robot skin just lying around?”
“She wouldn’t answer if you did,” Himiko sighed. They had long since come to accept the fact that Sarah was beyond their understanding. She made good robots, though, and good cocktails too.
Matsuki looked over the few finished products Himiko and friends had put together. Thanks to some expert craftsmanship, they managed to avoid the uncanny valley, though they were still obviously not living humans.
“Why do you use robots as models anyway?”
“Why did Leonardo paint on canvas? Why did Michelangelo carve with marble?” Matsuki asked. “An artist chooses the medium they work with. Robots are much easier to design to the right specifications than humans.”
The perfectly proportioned machines gave Matsuki an ideal, uniform template to work with, in a way no human models ever could. Knowing exactly what she was working with, being able to program every step and stride, let Matsuki showcase her design skills at their peak, rather than working with the irregular vagaries of the human form.
“I’ll get out of your hair and let you finish,” Matsuki said. “Is your dorm code still the same? I’ll cook you all lunch.”
“It is. I think I’ve got all the stuff to make soba lying around. Thanks, Mits.”
“Any time, ‘Miko,” Matsuki said. She gave her little sister a quick pat on the metallic shoulder before leaving the workshop.
“She seems nice,” Vell said.
“As long as you don’t get her started on fashion stuff,” Himiko scoffed. “She could’ve given a whole speech on why robot models are better. You dodged a bullet, Vell.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Vell mumbled under his breath.
Himiko ignored the quiet remark and got back to work. Matsuki’s fashion show was tonight, and they still had a lot of work to do before the robot models were ready to go. Vell said a lot of weird things, and if she stopped to linger on every one of them, she’d never get anything done.
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Their help in preparing the robots had earned Vell and company front-row seats to the fashion show. Free tickets or not, the loopers were all but obligated to attend the show. It was a very big event, and daily apocalypses were attracted to big events.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Matsuki was apparently a fairly renowned designer, and had set up a collaboration with some of the art departments at the Einstein-Odinson. The integration of advanced science and technology made for some astounding and innovative fashion designs -and a lot of potential problems for the loopers. A legion of robots was dangerous enough, much less a legion of robots coated in potentially unstable inventions.
“Botany department, they’re relatively stable,” Harley said. A robot model attired in an organic gown of leaves and vines strutted up and down the catwalk as she spoke. “Low risk.”
“Harley, they turned you into a kumquat last week.”
“Yeah, Hawke, and getting turned into a little citrus fruit is one of the better ways I’ve gone out,” Harley said. “Doesn’t bother me at all.”
Hawke, Harley and Vell were tucked together, whispering about potential risks posed by each fashion piece. Lee was also on hand, though she was sitting with Adele a short distance away, both for romantic reasons and so Adele didn’t overhear any kumquat apocalypse related conversations. Kim was not in attendance, citing a very reasonable discomfort with a bunch of human-looking robots.
“I know it’s low-hanging fruit, but is the Marine Biology department on the list?”
Harley scanned the pamphlet for the fashion show quickly.
“Nope,” she said. “Freddy’s Theoretical Science buddies are on it, though.”
“Hmm. Might want to brace ourselves for that one, then,” Vell said. Freddy and his cohorts created problems on an unfortunately frequent basis, though usually through sheer bad luck, in comparison to the Marine Biology department’s incompetence and outright malice.
The plant-covered robot finished strutting it’s stuff, and made way for the next machine model. This one came courtesy of the mathematics department, and appeared to be dressed in some kind of wearable calculator. It looked about as good as one would expect -not very good at all.
“Bit of a misfire, there,” Harley said. One did not need to be an expert in fashion to see the outfit was a dud -nor to notice that the robot wearing it was twitching slightly. The fashionable bot stopped mid-strut, began to jerk uncontrollably in place, and then appeared to reboot itself.
“New protocols engaged,” the machine model said. It did a quick scan of the crowd with unnaturally focused eyes.
“Hey! Since when can those talk?” Harley said. She turned around to look at the next row of seats, where Kanya, Himiko, and Sarah were waiting. “We weren’t supposed to put voice stuff in those.”
“I was possessing a box of the hardware necessary,” Sarah admitted. “I thought harm would not be caused.”
“Ugh, never put voice boxes in robots unless absolutely necessary,” Harley said.
“Why not?”
“Calibrating termination metrics,” the robot model said.
“Because then they can say things like that,” Harley snapped. “Now, about the eyes, tell me nobody gave-”
The robot model turned in her direction, and it’s eyes started to glow bright red. Harley sighed heavily.
“Why would you give them eyes that can turn red?”
“I was in a hurry, and you never let us use the red eyes, so they were the only ones we had left,” Himiko said. Harley rubbed her temples and let out another heavy sigh. From Himiko’s point of view, it mostly made sense. Since Harley always stopped the evil robot armies on the second loop, Himiko didn’t know that giving robots red eyes was a surefire way to make them evil.
“Identified Harley B Harley: nine out of ten,” the robot said. “Vell Harlan: five out of ten. Hawke Hughes: six out of ten.”
“What is it talking about?”
More red-eyed robots joined the first on stage, still wearing the outlandish dressed they’d worn in the first place. They lined up on the catwalk and began to scan the crowd.
“Professor Dean Lichman: one out of ten.”
“Matsuki Agari: nine out of ten.”
“Himiko Agari: seven out of ten.”
“Hold on a second,” Harley said. “Are the robots rating how attractive we are?”
“Kanya Bhaduri: three out of ten.”
“I sure hope not,” Kanya mumbled.
“Sarah: error-NOT A NUMBER out of ten,” said another robot.
“XL-X8 C/P Burrows: five out of ten.”
“Hey,” Lee protested, more offended by the use of her birth name than her middling ranking.
“Adele McLellan: five out of ten.”
“Oh, at least we match,” Adele signed.
“Dear, if you’re a five, this whole ranking system is nonsense,” Lee said, causing Adele to blush profusely.
“So, uh, what’s the endgame here, though?” Vell asked. “I don’t think destroying people’s self esteem counts as apocalyptic.”
“Not like this at least,” Harley said. “I did get insulted so hard I died once, but it was a way better burn than just calling someone a one out of ten.”
“Initiating aesthetic termination protocols,” the robot models said in unison, before leaping into the stunned crowd below. Vell figured out what the daily apocalypse was soon as the ironclad hands wrapped tight around his throat and squeezed.
“I’ve been told I’ve got a great personality,” Vell gasped. It didn’t help.
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Vell looked over the broken 3D printer and shook his head.
“I, uh, don’t think I can do anything for this,” he said, lying. As they had been unable to identify the exact cause of the robot arm’ys malfunction, the loopers had figured that the best way to avoid an army of deadly and judgmental robots was for the robots to not exist in the first place. With her 3D printer broken, Himiko couldn’t assemble the army -though their plan was not without it’s flaws.
“Agh, what am I going to do, my sister needs those models,” Himiko groaned. “Sarah, you always have spare parts lying around, help me out.”
“Not on this day,” Sarah said. “Only voice boxes, red eyes, and eighty-seven left feet.”
“Why do you have eighty-sev- fuck, nevermind,” Himiko said, knowing better than to finish asking Sarah a question. “Help me out here, guys, you’ve solved weirder problems than this.”
“Between me and Kim, we could probably machine a few parts by hand,” Harley suggested, gesturing to herself and Kim as she spoke. “Enough to finish the robots we’ve got lying around. That’s only three or four, though.”
“Maybe some illusions and other magical constructs can fill in the gaps,” Lee said. “Between the lot of us, I imagine we can stand in for the unavailable machines.”
“We’ll see,” Himiko said. “Fashion is a pretty picky industry. Depends on what Matsuki says.”
After a momentary delay, Matsuki made her dramatic entrance yet again, though her confident poise withered quickly when Himiko explained the circumstances.
“I’m sorry,” Himiko mumbled.
“Don’t worry about a thing, Miko,” Matsuki said, giving her little sister a quick, reassuring hug. “I know you did your best.”
The moment of sibling bonding made the loopers regret having to sabotage the project. To assuage her own guilt, Lee quickly jumped in to offer alternatives.
“While the robots may be off the table, we do have other skills,” Lee suggested. “Illusions, or other magical skills, might help fill your needs.”
“Yeah, we’re weirdly hyper competent,” Harley suggested. “Just say the word. We even have more friends we could-”
With a dramatic whip of her hands, Matsuki brought silence to the room. Everyone froze in place as Matsuki turned and scanned the room.
“I see the solution to all our problems standing before me,” Matsuki said. With her usual flare, Matsuki extended one finger and thrust it in Kim’s direction. “You!”
“Me?”
“You!”
Matsuki lunged in Kim’s direction and stood practically nose-to-nose with her, scanning her from head to toe once more.
“You must be my stand in model!”
“I- your what?”
“My model! You are not just a replacement, but an improvement,” Matsuki boomed. “You radiate an elegant beauty that no simple robot could ever possess!”
Hawke coughed loudly, as the irony became too much for his body to bear.
“You will be the canvas on which I showcase my works to the entire world!”
“The world?”
“Well, the viewing audience of this event, at least,” Matsuki said. “I would gladly take you as a permanent model, but your studies are more important.”
Matsuki flicked her wrist and produced a business card seemingly out of nowhere. She handed it over to a still partially stunned Kim.
“Academics first, but do call me once you graduate,” she said. “I would love to borrow you for the night, at least.”
Kim looked down at the business card in her hands, then back up at Matsuki’s flashy outfit.
“I don’t want to,” she mumbled.
“I understand,” Matsuki said. “It might seem overwhelming, but the crowd will love you! Someone with your looks-”
“I don’t want to, and I’m not going to,” Kim insisted. She turned away to avoid looking Matsuki in the eye. In spite of her bombastic and often overbearing personality, Matsuki still knew how to take no for an answer. She took a step back from Kim, to give her room to breathe.
“Alright, I’ll make other plans,” Matsuki said. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
“I won’t,” Kim grunted. She turned fully away from Matsuki and left the lab. Hawke watched her go with concern etched on his face.
“That was uncharacteristic,” Lee mumbled. Kim was often self-conscious about her appearance and her status as a machine, but not to the point where she would refuse to help someone in need, or so Lee had assumed.
“It sounds like I might have hit a nerve,” Matsuki admitted. “Should I apologize?”
“It’ll be alright. Kim gets a little moody sometimes, but she always has her head on straight at the end of the day,” Harley said. “Apparently she has an emotional support fish. I think it helps.”
Nobody but Kim had met Wish Fish yet, though she mentioned him from time to time. Having not heard even those vague tales of Wish Fish, Himiko was not quite satisfied.
“You guys have enough on your plates helping Matsuki,” Himiko said. “I’ll go talk to her. To at least say sorry.”
Himiko shuffled off to find Kim, leaving the others to brainstorm solutions to Matsuki’s model plight.
“Just so you know, I’m down to take my turn on the catwalk,” Harley said. “I’ve recently been told I’m a nine out of ten.”
By a murderous and highly judgmental robot, but Harley had never turned down a compliment.