Notes: Episode 9, "Usagi's Misfortune! Watch Out for the Rushing Clocks". Or, "The one where Usagi and Ami fight alone against time."
Episode 9
Ami barely knew where to begin. The computer was … amazing. Ami knew computers, of course, loved everything about them. But this. This wasn't just a computer. This was ART.
She turned it over in her hands inspecting every corner, every button, running her finger over the smooth blue surface.
She'd asked questions of Luna, as soon as the clock ordeal was safely resolved, of course. Who had built it? Where had it come from? How did Ami already know how to use it?
Luna had few answers, which Ami found disappointing, but didn't begrudge her. Luna was working so hard to protect the world, and Ami's admiration for her dedication and bravery was boundless.
That just meant more mysteries for Ami to solve!
She turned the computer over, checking to see if there were any ports or connectors. She found none. She had no idea how it was powered. There didn't appear to be any place for batteries, and no way to plug it in. Yet whenever she "retrieved" it, it seemed to be back at full capacity.
Incredible.
But what was most puzzling was the interface.
It was in Japanese now, for the most part. There were patches in German and English, both of which Ami was familiar enough with to interpret their meaning. But the first time she'd access a new … program? feature? … it would seem to go through an initialization process in a script Ami had never seen before in her life. It was old. She got the sense of that. Older than any language the Earth had ever seen.
The Earth?
Ami traced the buttons at the bottom of the keypad. Five in all, each a different, vibrant colour. They had a meaning. Significant meaning, SPECIAL meaning, meaning that stirred something deep inside Ami until she thought she might drown in an ocean she couldn't begin to understand.
Her finger wanted to press the buttons. Her mind wanted the answer that was so maddeningly close but like trying to grab a handful of fog.
Her soul could only cry.
In the end, as ever with Ami, her mind won.
She clenched her jaw and pressed the first button, the green one, before any other part of her could protest.
The screen blinked and then filled with more of that strange language. Ami watched as line after line scrolled past, her heart filling with dread even as she wondered why it wasn't translating this time. With every indecipherable screen, her breathing became shallower. With every line, her vision became darker. She was trembling now, and distantly surprised to discover that the tortured sounds she was hearing were her own. She seemed to be getting worse, part of her observed with wonder, and she couldn't begin to guess why.
Then the report stopped.
All that was left was one short passage. A word, or perhaps a phrase, nestled alone at the bottom of the screen. It blinked. A steady, relentless thrumming that would not be ignored. It was red, and Ami hated it. HATED it. She'd never in life expected she could hate anything at all, especially not a word, but she felt it build within her until it was a living thing with its own needs and desires. As she flung the computer across the room with all of her strength, it bellowed in triumph, and she in grief.
Ami cried. Great, heaving sobs ripped from her. It was all she could do to hold on, to try and survive this storm.
Eventually, slowly, she returned to herself, though she felt drained and thin. Her eyes fell on the computer, still open and blinking, still beckoning. It was the lone soldier left whole and unbroken, and she resented it.
Ami picked up the computer. A once-over showed it was completely undamaged. Her wall couldn't exactly say the same. Fortunately her mother was working late, and rarely went into Ami's room anyway. There'd be time to fix it. Later.
She pressed a button, and the display cleared. Japanese greeted her, and she felt better for it. Carefully, Ami folded the computer closed and "stored" it. They'd need answers, that much was clear. But not tonight.
Tonight Ami would grieve, and wish she understood why.