Author's note: Sorry for breaking schedule again, everyone. I've been a little distracted lately with health concerns and my upcoming college semester, and even within this story I've been focused more on events in the far-distant future than on what's going on now. It's a constant struggle; thanks for sticking with me through it.
"Are you sure, Max?" Paint consoled softly. "We don't have to stay. We can go off by ourselves or just head off to bed or something, if you want."
"No, I'm fine," he said. His eye canals were not yet totally dry, nor had their source been quelled, but he would be okay to socialize. The night sky was empty, but everything below was inviting and lively.
"Alright, cool! Aaaaaanyway" - she slid slickly back into the conversation - "sorry about that, Lowell. So, I think you're unfairly diminishing the importance of lifelike fallibility. If our brains are really all in vats somewhere, how is the simulation that convinces us otherwise so flawless?"
"I counter thus, Paint," the shrew calmly replied, "we are having this conversation, are we not? We are questioning the hypothetical mastermind's setup, so it is not flawless. That such a mastermind may err does not preclude him or her from taking on such a job and successfully creating our consciousness."
"Surely they'd keep the reasoning that it might all not be real away from us, though, right?"
"It is possible to make some mistakes and not others, correct? We mortals make logical and observational blunders - including yourself, I daresay - and it is entirely within reason that a hypothetical brain-manager might create a simulation that escapes our discernment, while also committing errors of his or her own, one such error being to give us any reasoning ability at all." He sniffed vainly at the air.
"But it's - Hey, where did everyone go?" She pouted at having been left behind. "Ah, well, I guess this stuff isn't for everyone. Nice seeing you, Lowell! Whenever we eventually make it back here, you can tell me all about how hopelessly stupid the Macro-Marsupial proponents are. Y'know, we'll be giving you time to let your anger fester, haha."
"Hmph, indeed," he grunted dispassionately as Paint began to depart for her young friends. "I swear, those fanatics and their precious lateral fricatives..."
They hadn't gotten far; they were speaking with Carol and her husband. Paint jumped right in, eager to cement good rapport with the officer and Jewel's lesser-seen parent.
"So, you've finally jumped off your ivory tower, eh?" Maxwell chided.
Paint was too glad he was back to his old self to mind the mild insult. "Yup! The propeller-flying genes were not in the hand I was dealt, so it was a fast trip! No time for a graceful landing!" At least Star looked happy to see her, as usual.
Clearly straining against her rigid exterior to get this out and done with as soon as possible, Carol stated, "Paint, I want to speak with you tonight as a fellow villager and a friend, but I am not going to apologize for doing my job yesterday or two days ago. You were, at the time, an accused criminal."
"Moooommm..." groaned Jewel.
"That's fine!" Paint reassured to her. "I'm not asking you to. Hey, work is work, right?"
"Doesn't she know it..." Jewel's father chuckled.
"That's enough. I suppose so. Listen, all of you... Not all of Dr. Eggman's robots will be like Star, understand?" Carol wanted to be firm about this.
Star protested with a timid but assertive beep. With much fluidity, it raised its arm to point at its own torso, then waved it vaguely across the canopy of the woods to represent the wider world before placing it back on its own heart, but more tenderly and for longer this time.
"I don't understand it, Paint," the officer snapped. "What is it saying?"
"Star thinks all of Eggman's robots are good at heart," she chimed, "no worse of beings than Star. Oh, Star" - she grabbed its shoulder tightly and friskily, as though pinching its cheek - "you are such a sweetheart! I hope you're right."
"I don't know about that..." Arrowhead admitted. "Have you already forgotten your so-called 'friends' from this morning?"
"Yeah, being idealistic is fine, but..." Jewel muttered.
Star had an answer ready: it waved its hands around in rapid, unpredictable, and lawless patterns. Having communicated this, it picked up a common stone from the ground - Arrowhead moved out of the way to excuse the robot to retrieve it - and pointed at the moon.
"You've lost me there, pal..." was all Paint could conclude.
Pressing on, Star pointed at the torches illuminating the nearby snack table and then at Maxwell's unlit tail.
"Ohhhhh, 'light'! It's... uh... shiny stones or minerals! Precious ones!"
Star confirmed excitedly, urging her to continue.
"Diamonds!" Negative. "Jewels! ...No, then you'd just have pointed at our aptly-named buddy here. Gold!" Negative again. "Silver!" Star gave a strong negative; it appeared to associate that word with something else. "Emeralds!" That was the key. "Um... oh! Chaos Emeralds!"
Star cheered and waited for Paint to give her analysis for the rest.
And she did. "They were just doing their job like Eggman told them to, looking for the Chaos Emeralds. Work is work, eh? I suppose I can't blame them for that, although, you know, the grievous violence I disapprove of..."
"Chaos Emeralds, huh? I've... heard of them. What do those doodads do, anyway?" was Carol's husband's logical follow-up question.
Paint realized that she didn't know; none of them did but the robot, who might have seen their use firsthand. Indeed, Star had an answer to this, too. Thinking of a way to model it, however, gave Star what looked like quite a headache. Its friends were patient through what turned out to be a tediously long display of various animal traits such that Arrowhead was able to narrow the animal in question down to a hedgehog.
"'Sonic' the Hedgehog? I remember that name. You'd know him via Dr. Eggman, I suppose," Arrowhead recalled.
Star confirmed this name and, to complete the explanation, mimed an exotic, passionate transformation and a display of exorbitant physical strength.
"Sisu and beautiful gemstones make for ultimate power, huh? How romantic," Paint sang.
Jewel's father interjected, "Definitely makes sense why Dr. Eggman would want those things away from the little bugger. All the same, Star, I wonder why you aren't seeking them as well."
"Wouldn't that go in violation of Dr. Eggman's orders?" his wife challenged to the robot.
Star did not need to speak up; Paint defended it with her tried-and-true relation of how helpless Star had been and how it had abandoned its ways long ago, this being cemented when she had saved its life - not that Star did not deserve this, of course; that is what friends do. Still, the explanation was beginning to wear on her. The adorable tale of Star joining the side of friendship and rebellion against tyrannical terrorists was beginning to sound trite and outlandish. Perhaps, though, it did not need to be anything more. Its veracity for all of them was enough.