Career, and love—they can make for great distractions, for a time.

Adulthood

"Ridiculous, it's perfectly safe!" the old Machina and Chief Technology Officer assured the worried royal scientists and safety inspectors who swarmed the courtyard. "Besides, Lanz here wanted to be the one to test it!"

"Exactly!" Lanz rolled his right shoulder, cracked his neck to both sides, and stared at his fist, clenching it. "This'll work just fine, I can feel it in my gut!"

The idea came to him in a dream, after seeing those REX power belts. Invented by this 'Shulk' fella, they enhanced and powered weapons all around the world today, but Lanz wondered, What if you used 'em to make people stronger? He couldn't believe nobody thought of it before.

He'd talked it over with his manager, who put him in touch with the CTO of Valtech. An old man to be sure—apparently over 9000 years old, and had to be floated about in a pod!—but he was still crazy smart, and passionate about technology, especially Mechon.

The old timer loved the idea, and after the folks in Legal arranged all the patent rights and snuff, they got to work on adapting the tech. When it was ready, of course Lanz wanted to be the one to test it out!

"Ready?" a technician called out from behind a control panel.

He popped a thumbs up. "Always! Let's get stuck in!"

The glowing blue circles all over his boots, gloves, arms and belt buzzed and whirred into life, filling his body with sparks and tingles.

He took a few steps; very quick steps, because he seemed to be lighter than the air, almost jumping instead of walking.

"How are you feeling?" asked a researcher holding a notepad.

Lanz grinned. "Fantastic!"

As a demonstration, he bent over and with one hand, picked up a weight; 30kg, like they'd told him to start with. "Easy peasy! Feels like liftin' cardboard!"

Then 50kg. Then 80. Then 100… Each time with one hand only, and it was a cinch. Barely put a strain on him at all.

"No signs of muscular corrosion!"

He ran around the courtyard, picking up and tossing anything he was asked into the air; went up like little plastic toys, but the way they slammed back down and sank into the grass proved they definitely weren't.

"Coolant pump rate is within parameters for mild-to-middling exercise!"

Iron bars bent like straws between his fingers, he vaulted over high rails in a flash, busted a hole clean through one of the punching bags…

"Ether cell readings show no signs of burnout!"

Now this was right; he felt like he could lift mountains! Now he was as strong as he should be! Well, almost, but damn close!

"Still at 66% power! Excellent performance for an un-tuned prototype…"

"Just water for me please", the CTO said to the waiter, before turning his attention to Lanz. "That was a splendid performance, Lanz!"

Lanz scratched the back of his head and smiled. "T-thank you, Sir."

"Ah please, there's no need for that"—the old man waved a dismissive hand—"just call me Valdi."

"Sure thing, S— Valdi."

He didn't wanna say it, 'cause it'd be rude, but something about Valdi disturbed him. No, not 'something'—Lanz knew exactly what it was; his age. The idea of someone living so long didn't sit right with him for some reason; felt like 'too much'.

He knew he was being silly thinking like this—it's not like Valdi was taking life away from others or something—but loved ones would die away, and you'd get lonely… Fuck, Lanz knew he was gonna outlive Joran, Noah, and even Eunie, and all the strength in the world wouldn't save them; the thought of that drove him crazy sometimes. How did other Machina cope? Did they just never make Homs or Entia friends? Did they live for their work or hobbies like Valdi seemed to?

Ugh, he hated thinking about this shite…

"Say, Lanz," Valdi took a sip from his glass, "how would you like to do the honors of naming the new power frames?"

Lanz's eyes widened. "Really? You're askin' me?"

Valdi chuckled. "Of course. After all, you did help with the adaptation process, and they were your idea to begin with, weren't they? I think it's only fitting! Just be sure the name isn't something Legal will bother me about," he laughed, slapping his knee. "Believe me, I've dealt with enough of their moaning for a lifetime!"

Well, thinking about names would sure beat thinking about everyone he knew dying before him. So he scratched his chin and engaged his thinking muscles. Really, he'd never even considered names. Gogol? Titan? Orluga? Sauros? Could he feed his ego and call them 'Lanz power frames'?…

Hah, as if! Nope. He'd have to come up with something better—something that stuck out…

…

Ogre? Ogres were s'posed to be strong, right?

Layla felt Eunie lean on her shoulder, after having sat down beside her at the desk, covered in books and notes. "Whatcha readin', love?"

"I'm studying," Layla explained. "I have several essays to write."

Eunie peered closer at the sprawl of books, filled with diagrams comparing the ether processing cells of Mechonis and Bionis life forms. "Biology, eh? Didn't we study enough of that last night?" Eunie teased, nudging Layla's side. "And this morning?"

Layla gasped in a—slightly exaggerated—scandalized tone. "Eunie! You scandalize me!"

"Ahh, c'mon, you know ya love it."

She couldn't help but smile. She did. She'd always liked Eunie and her upfront, straightforward attitude. She was bold, outgoing, unafraid to speak her mind… Well, most of the time; Eunie had taken forever to admit her obvious feelings; not that Layla was any better, being too cowardly to confess even though she knew it was—probably—reciprocated.

In the end, neither found the courage until Layla brought them to a movie that 'coincidentally' featured a Machina-Entia lesbian romance; Layla would have been fuming if that hint wasn't enough! She fondly remembered the 'snuff it' that came from Eunie, just before she wrapped her scarf around Layla's neck and pulled her in for a kiss… Eunie still used the scarf move regularly, and it always worked.

Having been 'distracted' the first time, it wasn't until their six month anniversary that they rewatched the movie and saw the ending; the Entia girl died, and it was heartbreaking; Layla cried, and was inconsolable until Eunie gave her some 'magic kisses' to cheer her up…

"Hey, you alright?" Eunie asked, sounding worried. "You look like you're dwellin' on things again…"

Layla shallowly swallowed. "Of course I'm fine, silly!" she said in the cheeriest voice she had, turning her head and giving her most convincing smile, eyes and all.

They'd spent so many happy days with each other. They moved in together and made a lovely little home for themselves, decorated with potted plants and cute little origami owls hanging from the ceiling. After Layla put her foot down and refused to let Eunie endanger herself by joining the Defence Force, they both got a firing range membership and now shared the hobby; "If I'm bein' honest, I only wanted to join 'cause the guns looked fun, and was I BLOODY right or what?!" she had said, much to Layla's un-amusement. They visited beautiful places, like the Bionis Shoulder, and the city of New Agniritha. They enjoyed wonderful days and nights in each other's arms…

But… she thought to herself, looking back at the books in front of her, it won't last…

She loved Eunie, but that was just the problem…

Noah entered his home, hearing the rattling sound of his doorbell as he opened and closed it.

With a fresh body, yet weary mind, he made his way to the couch, and fell back with a thump and a sigh.

He unzipped his bag, and took out his black and gold flute, feeling the weight in his hands.

He'd learned to play the instrument—of course he had! With that melody taunting him from a distance, practically weekly, how couldn't he? Even knowing that it was all just in his head, still something within whispered to him, that maybe it was real—maybe he could lure the other player to him, if he gave them a reason to come.

Copying it exactly, or trying to write something that complemented it—nothing he did seemed to work. The notes fell flat, or worse, were perfect, but did nothing to bring who he needed to see.

And then it became a job. People—but not who he was looking for—gathered to hear it, and for a few months he joined an orchestra, and now…

Well, the music seemed to resonate deeply with everyone who ever heard it. Everyone. Much to his discomfort, this was especially true at funerals. Day after day, he received requests from mourning families to play at the funerals of their loved ones, to 'send them off'. They said it was a mournful sound, for bringing peace to the dead…

It bothered him that he couldn't disagree.

Looking around the room, he felt it was quiet. Too quiet. Dreary and dark as well, with the curtains pulled over and only one small light on, barely illuminating a few scant cupboards and shelves. Nobody else home, and Noah himself felt like he was barely here, even now. How…depressing.

Still, things weren't all bad. He did feel good that he was providing something those families needed, and maybe even the deceased themselves. It was his role in this world, he could even say.

But…deep down, that wasn't why he played, not really. He played, hoping for a miracle; for a guiding light to help him find that piece of him that was missing—the source of that music.

He lifted the flute to his lips, and blew. A simple tune, perhaps with his heart not fully in it—and yet, every note sharply plucked at a string in said heart, and gave him just a glimmer of hope. Maybe this time it would get through to them, whoever they were; it had to…