Dear Reader,

Do androids dream of electric sheep? A book in a store window asked me this. How did it know I was an android? I felt it might be impolite to inquire. Anyway, I'm answering here. Androids do dream of electric sheep. I don't think I would have had I not been prompted by the image within the question, though. And after I dreamt of the electric sheep I imagined Fuuka in prison, and officers come into her cell to say 'We're giving you the death penalty and it's going to kill you,' and Fuuka responds by doing a sick ninja flip onto the ceiling and runs away. I think she'll be totally fine in there.

Wait, no. What I meant to write was 'there's no way she's actually going to prison, and my dream was just a dream.' So forget the other thing.

Did you forget it? You better not write to me unless you tell me what you forgot, so I know you really did forget. I think that's how forgetting is. I'm not very good at it. After the whole Ryoji thing I decided I wouldn't forget things anymore, a decision easier on my brain than on a typical human's. Though one not without caveats. I'm probably not the most efficient mechanical maiden out there, but that's okay because I'm trying to be a human and not a mechanical maiden. And there aren't any of those around anymore. Metis doesn't count.

In other news, I've developed an interest in curtains. I will write more as my understanding of curtains increases accordingly.

I said before that I don't sleep, didn't I? I don't sleep but I dream. It's more appropriate to phrase it another way. I can't sleep. Research and observation has made me aware of the passive, vulnerable state someone is left in while they are asleep. I can mimic that state, but cannot commit to it. I'm too aware. Too awake. The reality of it quietly bothered me. Can one be human if one cannot do all a human does? I tried not to think of it. The events of the past ten hours or so have forced a change in perspective. But first—your letters.

ThanosofTitan complimented me on my poetic ability, which I have interpreted to be a grave insult. It is impossible to be a skilled poet when one is doing poetry for the first time. Either the compliment I received was falsely stated, or the reader's taste is questionable. I do not intend to rhyme for quite some time. Only diligent effort will produce something sublime.

The rest of your letters focused on the ongoing Naoto/Fuuka situation, which is a far less interesting topic than myself. I am obliged to respond nonetheless:

Cosmic_Garden, Sammy and angelAtrophy all offered their two cents. How much that is in yen, I don't know, but that sombrero I got awhile back wasn't cheap and I'm not exactly employed right now, so...it'd be nice to get a little more.

Anyway.

Cosmic_Garden suggested a karmic solution – what Fuuka's bad cooking taketh away Naoto's sanity, an especially good meal will restore. Simple in theory, but not in practice. I am rather acquainted with the history and philosophy of the ancients – Greece and Rome and all that – and there is a recurrent theme among wise men, namely that 'things can always get worse, but they seldom get better.' To hope for a reversion to the mean is in itself praying for a miracle. And don't get me started about religion. It's a complicated subject for me, something I can only really express in terms of trains, and, perhaps soon, curtains. Besides, I don't know anyone who can cook. No-one alive.

angelAtrophy suggested a bonding activity to work out any awkwardness between Naoto and Fuuka. Sammy also suggested communication, of some sort, between them. Communication is such a complicated thing. Fuuka is my friend, I know what she's like. I hope she understands me too. I've only known Naoto for a short time, but I consider us friends. We're learning to understand each other. Communication with others is not so difficult when you speak to people as individuals, but everyone has different social lives. I can't force Fuuka and Naoto to get along with one another, even if they both get along with me. At present, I am not even sure if they don't get along. They are lost entirely within their own worlds. Fuuka's nerves go haywire when Naoto is present, or if she's mentioned, because of the guilt she feels. Naoto does not seem to hold any ill-will towards Fuuka, but nor does she...seem to feel anything that strongly. That they are not communicating honestly is plain to see, but it unnerves me that, theoretically, they could go on like this for quite some time, were I to do nothing. I don't know what to do, but I know that I can't do nothing. Sometimes I think too hard about these problems and want to run to the woods to yell, but there are no woods near where I am in Tokyo, so I write instead. I write what I cannot say. I do not know my readers all too well, but you may know me better than anyone else. It is nice to have that relationship, but it makes me feel sad, too. When others have problems they tend not to see yours.

I have not been sleeping. I cannot sleep; but usually I divert myself in the midnight hours with something or another. I've been writing this letter instead, and doing a lot of thinking. I always do a lot of thinking because I am a robot and am pretty good at it, but this thinking is different. It's much more like feeling.

If the distance between Naoto and Fuuka were a Shadow, I would shoot it with my wrist-mounted machine guns. Or blast it with my grenade launcher. Or shoot rockets at it. Or zap it with a high-powered electromagnetic railgun. Or summon Athena to skewer it with her spear. What I'm saying is, I have ways of dealing with such problems. Like a flamethrower. But I can't do that. A human problem requires a human solution. It makes me somewhat frustrated, but I can't help but relish the challenge. I'm not going to be a spectator anymore! Fuuka and Naoto are going to be friends again! Fuuka's not going to jail! Naoto's going to work again! And Elizabeth won't tell me to get the hell out of her office when we're sitting in a café! Everything's going to change!

Tomorrow. Everything'll change tomorrow. Because it's past midnight and everyone's asleep except me, so I can't do anything about anything. But I will not be cruel to you, reader, and send this letter to you without any further development to my Situation. I'll attach my next one to this tomorrow.

The Next Day

Have you ever sat awake and alone on a silent night and worried about things that wouldn't matter in the morning? I think I had one of those experiences. Please ignore any trace of anxiety in my previous letter. It is all a-okay now. Fine and also dandy.

Naoto was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee at the break of dawn. "Good morning, Aigis. You're up early."

"I could say the same about you."

"I didn't go to work yesterday, so I'm going to work overtime today and make up for it. A long day ahead." She spoke wearily, but with a smile.

"I was awake all of last night thinking, so I decided to just start my day now."

"Oh? What were you thinking about?"

I looked at her flatly. "You and Fuuka. It's been weird being around you two. Are you not talking?"

Naoto poured a small jug of milk into her coffee and stirred it. "I wouldn't say we're not talking, but I wouldn't say we're talking either..."

"She's been petrified, worried about what happened to you since you tried her cooking. Almost hysteric. Convinced she's going to prison."

Naoto awkwardly smiled. "She's not going to prison."

"You were acting so oddly, I guess she thought anything could happen."

"I suppose I was...Well, you can promise her I'm back to normal now. Nothing's going to happen."

"I think you need to tell her that, Naoto."

She thought about that silently for a moment.

"That's true."

She glanced at the offending bowl sitting atop the kitchen counter.

"I wonder if I can get her to try it herself..."

"You're still hung up on her cooking?"

Naoto cast a quizzical eye upon me. "It was like nothing else in my life. No...it was like one other experience...Hm. A mystery within a mystery..." She found herself trailing off into another reverie, and stopped.

"I'm sorry, Aigis. I didn't mean to cause Fuuka any undue stress, nor you any bother. I'll speak to her, and won't bring up the subject of her cooking with you anymore. I must've been a dreadful bore about it."

"Yes, pretty much."

She chuckled inwardly. "Then please accept my apology. I should be out of work shortly before midnight tonight. What say the three of us meet at Chagall Café. We can drink hot cocoa and have girl talk." Naoto's voice took an odd inflection on that last line, as if she was reciting words not entirely her own. It reminded me of when she talked about the staff party.

"Sure, Naoto. Sounds like fun."

She smiled again, gathered her things and left for work. Another 'rank up' echoed through my mind. I let out a deep sigh and walked out to the balcony to catch the warmth of the morning sun. What was I to do today? Why not...anything?