"H-Hello? I-I'm…I'm 2D."

It was no secret among the many advisors and assistants present at the Basilicom of Planeptune that sleep had long been a fickle beast for the Goddess of Gamindustri. Why would a creation of unknowable divine power be subject to the laws of mortalkind? Was this not an incredible oversight in Her design? Or was it possible that this was a very intentional choice? It was true that, despite their many differences, both Goddess- and mortalkind alike shared in their bafflement at the idea that so much time must be spent lying in one's bed—

"Hello. I'm 2D."

There was a simple answer provided by scientists who preferred to distance themselves from philosophical quandaries – the share. Even the Goddess would find Herself exhausted from drawing upon the share in order to sustain Her existence for every moment of Her life. Ergo, even a divine being must sleep in order to regain the energy necessary to maintain Herself. Why the act of using the share drained one's energy was a subject of constant research. This research often found it lumped into the same category as studies of magic, which was commonly believed by those on the edge of heresy to come from the same source—

"Good morning. I'm 2D."

Of course, while some sought after quantifiable results, as fleeting as they were in the clandestine realm of the arcane arts, others spent their time musing over the nature of the share – in particular, how it related to the form that the Goddess wore. Few who had been fortunate enough to lay eyes upon Her would disagree that She was a paragon of grace, serving as a prime model for human standards of beauty. But why did She bear such striking resemblance to Her worshippers? Such a question could not be easily answered with facts and numbers. Many who managed to wrack their brain to the point of asking this question decided that humankind was created in the image of Goddesskind, or that She and the humans came from the same mysterious source. Others who found their brooding turning to darker thoughts wondered if the Goddess chose to present Herself in a way that humans would find agreeable—

"Good morning, mistress. I am 2D."

Eyes fluttered open, still bleary from what seemed to be some form of sleep.

"Awake?"

Those eyes blinked a few more times, the redness revealing itself to be a natural color. They grew wide when awareness struck. Then, the mouth flew open, letting out a flurry of muffled yells.

"Shhhhh."

Noire had managed to make the transition from the uneasy peace of sleep to full-blown panic by this point, thrashing against the weight that was pressing against her. She had acted purely by instinct, and her conscious mind was taking its time catching up, bringing to her images of a woman leaning down over top of her, one hand placed over Noire's mouth, the other upon her hip. Unfortunately, either Noire's strength was failing her, or her opponent was far stronger than appearances would suggest.

The woman grabbed Noire's arms by the wrists to stop their flailing. "You are uncomfortable with this contact."

Noire was struck by the odd manner-of-fact tone this was stated in before the woman suddenly rose to stand straight up next to the full-size bed. It was then that Noire was struck by something else entirely. "You're the singer? Th-The one from…"

"No. I am 2D."

Memory was being more fickle than ever at the moment for the CPU of Lastation. Really, though, she was finding it quite difficult to concentrate on anything at all while her eyes took in the sight beside her.

2D's expression remained startlingly blank as she pressed her hands against the front of her skirt in a bashful pose, her head tilted away. "Please do not stare, mistress." Yet, a sharp eye may have noticed that, even as she said this, she clenched her hands, ever so slightly expanding the pinched territory above her thigh-high socks.

It just so happened that Noire's eyes were quite sharp. The gulf between the various emotions running through her could only manifest itself in a violent shiver. "D-Don't call me that. It's creepy."

A few moments passed, the woman remaining completely still as if locked in place. Then, a stiff nod was given. "Affirmative." 2D's posture relaxed into a more neutral stance, her prior bashfulness now seemingly having dissipated. "You are Noire."

The goddess was hoping that her brain would finally get its act together and make sense of just what was happening at the current point in time, but it seemed as if she would need to be taking manual control. She forced herself to rise to a sitting position, an act which she almost immediately regretted as a dozen aches and pains shot through her. It was difficult for her to even describe the level of fatigue she was experiencing – her mind was as active as ever, but her physical form was lethargic, being sluggish to react to her commands. And her neck was so very stiff…

"Noire has sustained damage. Suggestion: Noire should rest to recover."

If this woman – who really appeared no less youthful than Noire herself – had seemed robotic before, then now the uncanny valley was growing uncomfortably close to being realized.

"2D will provide refreshments. Please stand by." The young woman suddenly stepped over to the one door present in the tiny room, turned to give a practiced curtsy, and then turned again to step outside.

"W-Wait!" By the time Noire had even spoken up, the woman was already closing the door behind her.

Nearly a minute passed by before Noire's eyes tore themselves away from the solid dark wood of the door. She drew in a breath as she did so, not having realized that she'd been holding it. Pressing a hand to her chest, she closed her eyes, beginning a steady, controlled rhythm of further breaths. Eventually, the rapid beats against her fingers began to slow to a more reasonable pace.

How often must you use such a technique, I wonder?

Her senses were growing clearer, having been previously clouded by distraction. Soon, she was able to pick apart the nature of the sounds meeting her ears. In the distance, she could hear the muffled beat of music, possessing just enough bass to be felt as well as heard. There was a quiet hum closer to her, perhaps being produced by some form of ventilation system. Beneath these obvious noises was the chaotic chorus of a dozen voices, too faint and discordant to pick out any particular conversation – except for one.

"…right this way, my friend. Only a scant few seconds remain before you shall be presented with the treasure of a lifetime!"

Noire's heart skipped a beat. She knew that voice. And she was becoming more and more certain about just where she was – although she still had to wonder why the room she was within bore the appearance of a high-class manor's bedroom.

"And here we are! Ah, but such a collection must seem paltry to the eyes of a connoisseur such as yourself—"

"N-No no no! This is…this is awesome! Uh…uh…oh man…where did you people even find this stuff?"

Noire raised a brow. She knew that voice too.

"Now, now, Jake, my dear friend. That is a secret, as you should well know." A few moments passed, some words being spoken too quietly to be understood. There came the sounds of rummaging – through drawers, cabinets, piles of paper, noisy bags of plastic…

"Holy crap!" Some stomping upon hard flooring could be heard. "How much for this?!"

"Ah! That is quite the eye for quality you have there, friend."

By this point, Noire had managed to slide her way out of bed…and promptly fell to the floor with a yelp that would've drawn more than a few snickers if anyone had been watching. It was as if some of her muscles simply refused to respond, having been overtaken with numbness. Gritting her teeth, she eventually managed to force herself to her feet, feeling returning all too slowly to the various parts of her body. She limp-shuffled across the floor as fast as she could, throwing herself toward the door with all the grace of a drunken ballerina. A breathless moment passed – she'd made quite the thump in her attempt at eavesdropping.

Then, a laugh cut the apparent silence. "Please, you must understand, my friend, that this particular item is quite valuable, even among so many other items of great value. I am afraid that it will cost you far more than most are willing – or even capable – of giving up."

"Y-You're willing to barter, right? Look, I'll give you something worth even more than this!"

Noire could swear that she heard someone take in a sharp breath.

"Is…is this…a signed…"

"Yes! Yes it is!"

A pause. "I am afraid that such a trade is…quite imbalanced in value, my friend." The laugh that followed was far more uneasy than the previous.

"No, no! You…you don't understand! You have to take this!"

"Oh." The jovial tone in the man's voice faded, his speech dropping in volume. "Let us not mince words, my friend. This item in your possession is of…incredible value. It is so valuable, in fact, that it is worth more than one's life. And that is simply not a price that we can afford. I am sorry."

"Then where can I take this thing? I-I know it's too dangerous to keep around. But it's worth too much to just…smash it! It's practically a historical artifact!"

"Hm. Well, perhaps for a valued customer such as yourself—"

There was the sound of a door opening and closing in the distance.

"Ah. Hello there. You are…2D, yes?"

"Yes. I am 2D."

A chuckle. "I hope the lucky customer is quite satisfied by your service. Well? Do carry on, young lady."

"What is that?"

"Now, now. You should know better than to pry into things that are none of your concern."

"Okay."

Footsteps were approaching – heels clicking upon the floor.

A knock at the door resounded through Noire's room. "I have returned."

The door swung open with the slightest of creaks.

2D stood motionless in the doorway, a tray of the promised refreshments occupying her hands. "Mistr—Noire? Are you present?" Her eyes scanned over the room, confirming that no one was around. "Friend?" 2D's shoulders sunk ever so slightly, the weight in her hands suddenly seeming a little heavier. "Okay…"

Just when the girl was about to turn and head back into the hall, she heard a voice. "I'm right here."

2D's senses oriented themselves toward the lone armoire occupying a corner of the room. The doors were open. She set her tray upon the bed before asking, "Is Noire playing hide and seek?"

"Ah…no." Noire stepped back from the armoire, hands pressed upon her hips in a displeased fashion. "What happened to my clothes? I can't seem to find them."

2D gave a little bow. "2D must apologize for not informing Noire on this subject. Noire's original clothing has been transferred to the washing department. New clothing was provided as appropriate."

"'Washing department?!'" Noire took a look down at the attire she now wore – a simple spring dress doubling as a sort of nightgown, the pale blue material reaching to her knees. A shiver went through her at the logical conclusion that someone had to have handled dressing her while she was unconscious. "I-I need that outfit back! An iconic look is essential for a godde—er…" She choked off her own words before clearing her throat. "It doesn't need to be washed, either. It's enchanted to resist almost anything. In fact, tossing it into a washing machine might create some kind of bubbly disaster!" She didn't add that she had learned that last bit the hard way.

"'Enchanted?' 2D does not understand."

Noire's mouth clamped shut as she considered her next words. "I'll worry about it later, then. In the meantime, I'm going to need something a little more…" How odd. She wasn't quite sure just what word she had intended to end that sentence with.

Flattering.

Practical.

Enticing.

Modest.

A mere gust of wind from a wardrobe malfunction.

No.

"Does Noire not find the presented selection to her liking?"

The goddess reached over to grab an outfit from the armoire, then stepped back to hold it in sight. The garb dangling from the hangar was a far cry from Noire's dress, appearing much like a cross between a maid's uniform and a pop idol's stage attire. "Not exactly."

I see. Too subservient. Perhaps something a little more mature—

Would you quit arguing with me already…me?

Hah. Why not stick to the familiar, then, hm? You always did love the tempting purity of absolute territory, did you not? Ah, but a new demographic could be obtained with the added spice of—

You know what? I'll keep what I have. It's comfortable, at least.

Oh. What a pity. But you will still need to acquire some form of footwear, hm? I do not suppose a goddess' soles will last long walking upon concrete and asphalt.

Noire held back a groan to prevent herself from sounding like a tired old woman as she stooped down to examine the choices there, which consisted of quite of the exotic variety. Platforms…heels…wedges…and whatever THAT is. Nothing that's good for anything more than looking cute. She made a little sigh. I suppose these sandals will have to do. Nobody thinks "casual" when they picture the goddess of Lastation, but here I am. Eheh.

I am sure that Neptune would find it quite to her liking.

I'm not looking to impress her.

"2D apologizes. This armoire is intended to provide a limited selection for customers to choose for their CPUs."

There was more than just one part of that sentence that struck Noire as strange. She stood up, having finished slipping on the selected footwear. "What do you—"

They were interrupted by a knock at the door, which had incidentally been left wide open. A somewhat familiar face popped in. "Ah. 2D? Is our newest addition sufficiently prepared to receive guests?"

"2D is not sure," said the girl, shrugging.

"Hm. We will have to see, then." The salesman stepped back to usher someone else into the room. A young man – barely more than a boy – entered, a sheepish grin on his face. "E-Excuse me. I couldn't help but ask…can I…" He took a step forward, his eyes meeting Noire's. "Wow," he breathed, his expression turning into one of incredulity. "I know these guys are devoted, but a Noire CPU? And you look so real!"

"What?! O-Of course I'm real, idiot!"

"Wow! And she sounds just like the real thing, too! Man, they get real marks on their accuracy!" The man took another few steps closer, raising a hand toward Noire's arm. "Hm…kind of hard to tell how well they modelled the body, though. Maybe in a better outfit…"

Before the man could even get close to touching Noire, she had grabbed his wrist and tightened her fingers to a vice grip. "And just what do you think you're doing?!" For a split second, the idea of crushing his hand occurred to her, but she instead let go of him, taking a step back.

"Ah, right. I guess I'm not set to be your customer just yet, huh?"

"Aahhhhhhh!" Noire raised her hands, pulling at her hair – she belatedly noticed that it was no longer bound into twin-tails. "What the hell is this 'customer' nonsense about?!"

The salesman made a nervous chuckle. "She is still…settling in, as I am sure you can see. Perhaps it is best not to bother her just yet, no? She is not yet ready for service, after all—"

"'SERVICE?!'" The CPU's eyes were just about to burst into flame at this point.

"Say, uh…Jeb," began the man who'd so rudely invaded Noire's personal space. "Do you think there's something wrong with this one? You guys have ways of resetting them when they start acting funny, right?"

"Indeed we do, friend," said the salesman. "It appears that this model may be in need of adjustment. We have only just received her today, in fact."

"Hm…" The young man's gaze moved downward, his brow furrowing as if he was pondering something. He turned to Jeb, asking, "Can I give her a test run, maybe?"

The salesman's mouth twisted while he considered this. "I am not sure if that is wise. But, if you are eager, then it can be arranged. I suppose your payment has been more than sufficient for such a request."

"A-Are you serious? I can?! Awesome!" The man practically jumped in excitement. "Oh man…"

Jeb nodded, placing a hand on the doorknob. "2D? Let us leave these two be."

2D gave a stiff bow. "Of course, master." She stepped over to the door, ducking beneath Jeb's arm to exit.

The salesman flashed his client a charming smile. "Please, do enjoy yourselves."

And with that, the door closed, leaving the remaining two occupants of the room in silence.

Very, very awkward silence.