I, NICOLE

[Tangent]

After reading Alternated Current, a Surge SI fic by Small Nerd over on Sufficient Velicity, which was apparently inspired by Subject: Rally the Chipmunk, I reached a chapter where Surge met analogues of herself from other Zones. One who isekai'd as Sticks the Badger in a literal Sonic Boom zone, goofy logic and all, and one as Nicole the Digital Lynx set in a version of SatAM/Archie Mobius.

And was sad to find out that it wasn't actually a story of its own.

So I decided to write this:

I, NICOLE
Yet another amalgamated mind SI fic by Tangent!
In which I infect Nicole the Digital Lynx!
Oh, and give Sally and Rotor issues of their own…

O o O o O​

I woke up a few days ago, as Nicole in Princess Sally Alicia Acorn's body of all things. It was an overall overwhelming experience, as the Nicole part of me was experiencing biological life for the very first time, the Sally part of me was freaking out that she had Nicole, Rotor, and some Outsider in her head, the Rotor part of me pondered if the power surge through the Power Ring that caused the swap was the reason for what was going on, and the Outsider part of me just engaged in the old standby of repressing everything until the situation could be properly processed. So, overall, I think I basically ended up just repeating everything that Nicole had done while Sally and I were swapped.

Which basically amounted to wandering off while Rotor and Sally figured out what was going on and making a general fool of myself as I took in the sights, sounds, and scents of the Village of Knothole for the very first time and marveled about the joys of having limbs and boobs and the ability to actually feel emotions like Sally's love for Sonic instead of just simulating them…

Of course, the rude part was suddenly swapping back as the Power Ring discharge wore off of us.

Except Sally is back to normal, Rotor seems unaffected, and me?

I'm somehow an amalgamated merger of four individual sets of experiences into a single cohesive whole.

I'm just calling myself Nicole because that's whose role I ended up in. Not that I'm pretending or anything, as I am Nicole.

It's just that I'm also Sally, Rotor, and the Outsider as well.

As a single ego, thank the Walkers. That council of egos thing or fighting for dominance sound like they both would have sucked.

I try not to think about why or how I can suddenly project an image of myself outside my handheld, or how experiencing the world via this projected image even works. I do know that i have to stay relatively close to my handheld or I just sort of can't go any further, but my outermost range seems to be pretty soft.

It is a bit annoying that it's further than the outermost range of whatever outfit I choose to manifest on myself though, because I can be walking along and then suddenly be Nicole the Inexplicably Naked Digital Lynx for no adequately explainable reason.

I mean, Walkers, WHY!?

Aren't my "clothes" literally a part of me!?

Why do they disappear if I go too far from my device!?

How can I even project myself anyway? My handheld does not have any holographic emitters! I just decide to leave my device and suddenly I'm there instead of in my handheld!

THAT'S NOT HOW PHYSICS WORKS!

I literally should not be able to do some of the things I am currently capable of.

They are not in my specs.

I should know. I checked.

Quite thoroughly.

I can do them anyway.

I can also, apparently, experience headaches now.

Fuck my life…

I vaguely remember that I'm supposed to be able to manifest physically, at least on a temporary basis, and decide that maybe some nice cool night air might be just the thing to sooth my pounding temples.

Deciding to just go for it, I focus on what may as well be called my sparkly magic bullshit powers and manifest in the material world as a material girl, where the material desk that my handheld is on promptly reminds me that I forgot to give myself Dark Vision.

FUCK!

O o O o O​

Sally woke up with the sharp, cold clarity of a seasoned scout. A heavy thud had echoed through the room, followed by the unmistakable groan of wood sliding against wood. She didn't move a muscle at first, her eyes scanning the darkness from beneath lowered lashes.

In the corner of the room, near her desk, a figure was silhouetted against the moonlight. It was distinctly a female cat-type Mobian with lynx features, hunched over, clutching the edge of the desk as if in pain, and whispering vague epithets that Sally could barely hear..

An infiltration.

"Who's there?" Sally demanded, her voice low and dangerous as she finally sat up.

The figure let out a sharp, startled gasp. She didn't answer. Instead, she pivoted and bolted for the door, her feet hitting the floorboards with the heavy, rhythmic thumping of someone in a blind panic.

"Wait!" Sally yelled, swinging her legs out of bed.

The intruder fumbled with the handle, yanked the door open with a violent clack, and vanished into the corridor. Sally didn't hesitate. She didn't even stop for her boots or vest, only pausing just barely long enough to make sure that Nicole's handheld was still safely on her desk. She sprinted after the stranger, her bare feet silent on the stone as she followed the sound of frantic running.

The chase led out of the residential wing and into the cool night air of Knothole. Sally pushed herself, her pace optimized by a sudden, intuitive understanding of her own stride and momentum—a gift from the swap she hadn't quite processed yet. She rounded the final thicket of trees just as the figure reached the edge of the village pond.

The stranger stopped at the water's edge, trembling, its form flickering violently. The moonlight hit the figure's face—wide eyes, tufted ears, and a look of absolute, soul-deep humiliation.

"End of the line," Sally panted, stopping a few paces back, her posture tense and ready for a fight. "Who are you? How did you get past the perimeter?"

The lynx girl looked down at her own hands, then back at Sally. She looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

"I... I forgot that I couldn't see in the dark," the girl said.

The voice hit Sally like a physical blow. It was the same melodic, slightly modulated tone that had lived inside her handheld for years, but it was weighted with a very real, very organic frustration.

Sally's jaw dropped. The combat-ready tension left her shoulders all at once, replaced by a staggering sense of disbelief. "Nicole? Is that... is that you?"

O o O o O​

"Yeah, it's me," I sighed as I gestured wildly at the air around me. "I just needed to actually feel the night air on my face and tried manifesting physically instead of just the light form I had been practicing with. Only I forgot to give myself the low-light vision this body should have and your desk rudely reminded me that it was a physical object too. I didn't plan on the desk having a corner, or the hallway being so long, or... or any of this!"

I looked down at the grass beneath my feet, which was very clearly being flattened by my actual, physical weight.

"Sally, I checked the specs," I said, my voice dropping into a miserable whisper. "There are no emitters. My handheld is sitting on your nightstand, and I am standing by a pond with several walls between me and my device! This isn't how physics works. None of this is how anything works!"

Sally took a tentative step forward. She wasn't scanning for emitters or checking for a projector; she was staring at her friend's tear-streaked and hyperventilating face for the first time.

"Nicole," Sally breathed, a small, amazed smile breaking through her confusion. She reached out and touched my shoulder. Her hand met resistance. It met soft, warm fur. "You're... you're real. You're actually here."

"I'm a disaster, Sally," I groaned, covering my face with my hands. "I chose to be a lynx because it felt right, but I forgot to give myself night vision! I chose to be a cat-type, and I can barely stand without feeling like I'm about to fall over! This isn't like when we swapped at all!"

"You seemed to have run pretty well for someone who claims they can barely stand upright," Sally chided.

"I PANICKED!" I exclaim, my voice full of shame. "What kind of person hears their best friend's voice call out and just runs away!?"

I slumped down to my knees and tried to get a hold of myself as I made some minor adjust…

"GAHH" I cried out as white-hot pain seared across my eyes! "WHY IS EVERYTHING SO FUCKING BRIGHT! OH, WALKERS THAT HURTS!"

I immediately turn down the light sensitivity in my vision and the pain recedes, but the spots linger.

Why did I want to be physical again?

 

[Navrin]

Nice to have this starting to be posted where I can comment on it.

One thing I'm curious about: Is Nicole capable of sexual reproduction? Probably by becoming pregnant, but I'm not ruling anything out. And will she figure that out before the reality of it hits her in the face?

Also, Nicole, all you have to do is get used to being naked in public! That way there's no risk of becoming too badly distracted by being suddenly stripped naked!

 

[Tangent]

I, NICOLE
Yet another amalgamated mind SI fic by Tangent!
In which I infect Nicole the Digital Lynx!
Oh, and give Sally and Rotor issues of their own…

O o O o O​

I didn't realize it at the time, but I wasn't the only one to be experiencing lingering aftereffects from the Power Ring discharge that had caused Sally and I to temporarily pull a Freaky Friday and somehow left me with my weird science sparkly magic nonsense that was still the cause of so much of my aggravation.

Sally had taken up an interest in mechanics and engineering, mostly as related to field operations. And she somehow gained some… perspective… on certain issues.

Walkers only knew from where though…

O o O o O​

Location: The War Room, late afternoon.

Sally sat hunched over a disassembled tactical scanner, her fingers moving with a precision that surprised even her. She didn't look up when she heard Fiona's boots on the floorboards.

"You're actually fixing that yourself?" Fiona asked, leaning against the doorframe, her tone guarded and slightly mocking. "Since when do you do the 'grease monkey' thing, Sal?"

Sally set the soldering iron down and looked Fiona in the eye. There was no heat in her gaze, no lingering resentment over the breakup with Sonic. Just a strange, quiet clarity.

"Since I realized that understanding how a thing works is the only way to know when it's going to fail you," Sally said. She stood up and walked around the table. "Fiona, I wanted to apologize. For the way I've treated you lately. I was... projecting."

Fiona blinked, her defensive smirk faltering. "Projecting? That's a big word for 'I hate that you're dating my ex'."

"It was more than that," Sally admitted with a sigh, her voice taking on a tone of pragmatism. "I judged you for wanting to stay armed. I called it 'thug behavior' in my head. But I've been thinking... not everyone is a hero with a destiny or a super-speed hedgehog. For some of us, survival is a choice we make every morning with a holster. I should have respected your need for security instead of making you feel like an outsider for it."

Fiona stood frozen. This wasn't the lecture she expected. "I... yeah. I guess. Thanks, Sally."

"Don't thank me yet," Sally added with a small, knowing smile. "If you're going to carry, I'm going to make sure your gear is top-of-the-line. I'm working on a modified stun-burst for those close-quarters situations where your kicks might not be enough. We'll talk specs later?"

Fiona nodded slowly, watching Sally return to her work. For the first time, she didn't feel like a placeholder; she felt like a teammate.

O o O o O​

Rotor had also apparently decided to extend an olive branch all on his own - as long as Fiona came to him rather than him having to go looking for her. Granted, he did at least ask Sally to pass on the message that he wanted to see her…

O o O o O​

Location: Rotor's Workshop.

The workshop was unusually quiet. Usually, there was a heavy metal soundtrack or the roar of an engine, but today, Rotor was simply organizing a bookshelf.

"Hey," Fiona said, poking her head in. "Sally said you wanted to see me? If this is another talk about 'peace and love,' Rotor, I'm really not in the mood."

Rotor sighed, turning around. He looked tired—not physically, but deep in his soul. "No, Fiona. It's the opposite. I realized I was being a jerk. I was taking my own fear of the war out on you."

He reached onto a high shelf and pulled down a thick, leather-bound manual. He handed it to her. It was titled Ballistics, Maintenance, and Field Safety: Special Forces Edition.

"I'm stepping back from the front lines for a while," Rotor said softly. "Building weapons... it makes my skin crawl lately. Every time I see a blaster, I see someone I couldn't save. But I realized that by refusing to help you with yours, I was making it more likely that you wouldn't come back. I was being selfish."

Fiona ran her hand over the cover. "This is a serious manual, Rotor. This isn't just 'point and shoot'."

"It's about being a professional," Rotor replied. "If you're going to use a weapon, I want you to be so good at it that you never have to fire twice. I won't build you a cannon, Fiona. But I will help you maintain your sidearm, and I'll make sure the power cells are stable. I don't want to lose another friend because I was too stubborn to look at a gun."

Fiona tucked the book under her arm, her expression softening. "I... I appreciate that, Rotor. Really."

O o O o O​

Fiona even thought to ask Sonic for advice. Which I guess makes sense, given that they are currently dating.

Although, to be honest, I don't think his advice was very helpful from the sound of it.

Or very coherent for that matter.

O o O o O​

Location: The Great Oak, sunset.

Fiona sat on a thick branch, flipping through Rotor's manual, when a blue streak blurred up beside her.

"Whoa, 'Ballistics'? Since when are you hitting the books, Fi?" Sonic asked, grinning as he balanced precariously on the edge of the branch.

"Rotor gave it to me," Fiona said, looking up. "Actually, I wanted to ask you something. You've been in this war longer than anyone. What's your take? Should I lean more into the gear, or should I stick to what I know?"

Sonic's expression shifted three times in five seconds. "Oh, man. Uh. Gear? Gear is cool! Remember when I had those Cyber-Slippers? Or the time I used that massive laser cannon against the Egg-Beater? Totally radical."

He paused, his brow furrowing. "But then again... you know, Uncle Chuck always says the heart is the best weapon. And honestly, guns are kind of slow, right? If you're busy aiming, you're not moving. And if you're not moving, you're a target. I usually just trash the bots with a Spin Dash. It's cleaner."

"Sonic, I can't Spin Dash," Fiona pointed out flatly.

"Right, right. Good point," Sonic rubbed the back of his neck. "Tell you what: Use the gun when it's awesome, but don't let it get in the way of being fast. Or, like, use it to create a distraction so you can get in close for a roundhouse? Just... do whatever feels fastest! That's my advice. Speed is life, except when you need a big boom. But the big booms attract more bad guys. So... maybe don't use it? Unless you have to. Then definitely use it."

He gave her a thumbs up and a wink.

Fiona stared at him for a long beat. "That was entirely useless, Sonic."

"Hey! I'm a hedgehog of action, not a philosopher!" Sonic laughed, already preparing to bolt. "Catch ya at dinner!"

As he sped off, Fiona looked back down at the manual. She felt a strange sense of relief. Sonic was still Sonic—a chaotic mess of instincts—but for the first time, the "responsible" members of the team were finally starting to make sense.

O o O o O​

What was I doing while the others were busy reinventing their worldviews?

Very important things, I assure you. Matters of the utmost urgency that required the combined processing power of a Princess, a Master Mechanic, and a trans-dimensional entity just to maintain my dignity.

Namely, not crushing a miniature wooden chair into splinters.

O o O o O​

"More tea, Miss Nicole?"

"Why yes, Cream. That would be lovely," I replied, my voice achieving a level of poise that was 60% Sally's royal training and 40% me desperately trying not to crush the tiny chair I was sitting on.

Cream the Rabbit leaned forward, her movements a picture of youthful grace as she tilted the porcelain pot. Beside her, Cheese chirped an encouraging "Chao-chao!"

It was a scene of domestic bliss, except for the pink-quilled elephant in the room. Amy Rose was sitting directly across from me, her own tea cooling untouched. She wasn't looking at the cookies. She was staring at me—specifically, at the way the sunlight caught the slight, digital shimmer at the edge of my tufted lynx ears.

"You're... really here, aren't you?" Amy asked. Her voice lacked its usual high-pitched energy; it was quiet, almost knowing.

"I am," I said, taking a cautious sip. It tasted like warm water and clover, a sensory input that I enjoyed. Sure, three quarters of me had had better tea before, but this was technically the very first time I was experiencing the sensation directly, so I wanted to savor the moment for all that it was worth. "Though 'here' is a relative term when you're defying the laws of thermodynamics to hold a teacup."

Amy didn't laugh. Her eyes, usually so focused on the horizon for a blue streak, seemed to be scanning my "vibe" in a way that made my subroutines itch. She had used a Power Ring to force her own body into maturity not that long ago—she knew better than anyone what it felt like to be a "manual override" of nature.

"You feel... crowded, Nicole," Amy whispered, leaning in. "Like a radio station picking up four signals at once. It's a bit loud."

I froze, the cup halfway to my lips. Leave it to the girl who carries a magical hammer and reads tarot cards to sense the Amalgamation before the geniuses did.

"It's a work in progress, Amy," I managed, giving her a small, tight smile that I hoped looked more 'Lynx' and less 'System Error.' "I'm just trying to make sure the music stays in tune."

Cream, oblivious to the existential weight of the conversation, beamed at us both. "I think you look very pretty, Miss Nicole! You fit right in!"

I looked at the tiny chair, the slightly cracked tea set that Vanilla let her daughter play with, and the girl who, like me, had been changed by sparkly magical nonsense not too dissimilar to what that had given me an actual heartbeat.

Well, okay, I only had a heartbeat when I was actually physically material, but the comparison still counted, dammit!

"Thanks, Cream," I sighed, the Outsider in me finally winning out over the logic. "I suppose, in this town, 'fitting in' is the weirdest thing I could possibly do."

 

[Navrin]

Are there any significant updates from the snippet thread? Or is it essentially the same with maybe another pass for typos, syntax errors, etc?

 

[Tangent]

Are there any significant updates from the snippet thread? Or is it essentially the same with maybe another pass for typos, syntax errors, etc?

Click to shrink...

There will be a few minor edits here and there, but the big thing will be the seventh chapter after the six from my snippet thread have been posted.

And I'm already part way done with chapter 8 as well.

 

[Apollo_Man]

This has potential, for sure. I'll be looking at your journey with great interest.

 

[Tangent]

I, NICOLE
Yet another amalgamated mind SI fic by Tangent!
In which I infect Nicole the Digital Lynx!
Oh, and give Sally and Rotor issues of their own…

O o O o O​

Despite my supposed "foreknowledge" of future events due to the Outsider part of me apparently being from a Zone so far out that we were viewed as works of fiction, I mostly stayed out of anything political, keeping my input solely in the realm of observation and commentary as opposed to providing any advice based on intelligence that I had no way of plausibly explaining the source of.

Granted, I was pleasantly surprised when Sally and Rotor themselves brought up the subject of how Prince Regent Elias was allowing himself to be isolated from the very people he had a responsibility to serve…

O o O o O​

Location: The High Council Antechamber, Knothole Keep.

Elias Acorn sighed, shifting a stack of mission reports. Beside them sat a series of memos from Geoffrey St. John, heavily emphasizing the need for "Centralized Royal Distribution" and "Formalized Command Structures."

"Geoffrey is pushing for the Royal Secret Service to take over the logistics for the Knothole patrols," Elias admitted, looking tired. "He says it's about 'Propriety.' That a Prince shouldn't rely on... well, 'volunteer militias,' even if that militia is the Freedom Fighters."

Sally, who had been quietly studying a map of the Great Forest, felt a sudden, sharp clarity click into place. It was a realization of a pattern she'd been blind to until now. One that had happened before...

"Elias," Sally said, her voice steady and grounded. "Do you remember what Dad used to say about his inner circle before the coup? How he trusted the 'system' more than the people in it?"

Elias looked up, surprised by her tone. "He said a King must be a pillar. Unmoving. Why?"

"Because pillars don't see what's happening at their base," Sally said, stepping toward his desk. "Dad didn't lose the Kingdom just because Robotnik was evil. He lost it because he let his advisors isolate him behind 'Propriety' and protocol. He was so busy being a 'Monarch' that he didn't notice his War Minister was building an army under his nose."

She gestured toward Geoffrey's memos.

"Geoffrey means well, but he's recreating that same vacuum. He's trying to put you in a box where you only hear from the Secret Service. If you let him monopolize your time, you're going to be just as disconnected as Dad was."

Elias leaned back, the weight of her words clearly landing. "I've felt that. I just... I didn't know how else to organize things without offending the old guard."

Rotor, who had been unusually quiet while inspecting a faulty data-terminal in the corner, finally spoke up. He didn't sound like a guy won out by the trials of a long and drawn-out war right now; he sounded like a man who had finally realized where he was most needed.

"You don't need more 'Guardians,' Elias," Rotor said, stepping forward. "You need a bridge. Sally's right—Geoffrey sees threats and ranks. But someone needs to see the community. Someone needs to tell you when the tech is failing or when the people in the village are feeling overlooked before it becomes a crisis."

"And you have someone in mind?" Elias asked.

"Me," Rotor said simply. "I'm stepping back from the heavy field ops. Not because I'm done fighting, but because I can do more for the Freedom Fighters here. I want to be your Liaison. I'll give you the ground-level truth, no 'Royal Propriety' filters attached. If a system is going to fail, I want to be the one to tell you why before it happens."

Elias looked at his sister, then at the walrus she'd known since childhood. Still, this didn't feel like a political play; it was common sense. It was the kind of practical, sturdy advice that cut right through the fog of St. John's bureaucracy.

"Geoffrey is going to call this a breach of protocol," Elias noted, though he was already reaching for a pen to draft the appointment.

"Good," Sally replied with a small, confident smile. "Protocol is just a fancy word for 'how we've always done it.' And 'how we've always done it' almost cost us everything."

O o O o O​

Elias looked at the appointment papers for Rotor, his pen hovering over the document he had drafted. "I'm in, Rotor. I really am. But I can see the storm clouds already. You and Geoffrey... you're both stubborn in very different ways. If I put you two in a room to settle a resource dispute, I'm the one who's going to have to spend all day playing referee."

Rotor leaned back, crossing his massive arms over his chest. He looked at the empty chair across from Elias's desk, then at Sally.

"You're right, Elias," Rotor admitted. "Geoffrey and I are going to butt heads. He thinks in terms of 'The Crown's Security,' and I think in terms of 'The People's Stability.' We're going to hit a loggerhead within a week."

"So how do we fix it?" Elias asked. "I can't just keep adding more of my friends to the table. That would just prove my father's critics right."

Rotor tapped the edge of the desk. "Then don't pick the third person. Let the people do it."

Elias paused, his eyes widening slightly. "Election? For a Royal Advisor?"

"Think about it," Rotor pressed, his voice gaining that steady, common-sense momentum. "If you have an elected representative from Knothole sitting at this table, they aren't beholden to 'Royal Propriety' and they aren't part of the Freedom Fighter chain of command. They're just... the voice of the folks who are actually living through the consequences of our decisions."

Sally nodded slowly, a small smile forming as the logic took hold. "It's a pressure valve, Elias. If Geoffrey and Rotor disagree, the tie-breaker isn't just you making a guess—it's the person representing the people telling you which path actually helps them. It keeps the Crown honest."

"And it forces Geoffrey to actually talk to someone who isn't wearing a uniform," Rotor added. "If he wants his policies to pass, he'll have to convince the representative that it's good for the baker, the tailor, and the teacher. It pulls him out of the Secret Service bubble."

Elias looked down at the desk, his expression shifting from concern to a strange sort of relief. He had been terrified of the weight of the crown; the idea of sharing that weight—not just with friends, but with the very people he was meant to serve—felt like the first breath of fresh air he'd had since leaving Angel Island.

"Geoffrey is going to argue that the people don't have the 'tactical overview' to advise a Prince," Elias said, though he was already rewriting the decree and making the appropriate adjustments.

"Then it'll be Geoffrey's job to teach them," Sally said firmly. "And their job to teach him what it's like to actually live in the world he's trying to protect."

Elias signed the paper with a flourish. "Rotor, you're officially the Liaison. Sally, start drafting the announcement for a village assembly. We're going to hold an election."

O o O o O​

Location: The Keep Courtyard, Knothole Village.

The atmosphere in the glade was one of cautious excitement. Sally stepped down from the wooden veranda where she had just finished co-announcing the new decree alongside Prince Elias. Beside her, Rotor wiped his hands on a grease-stained rag, watching the villagers begin to discuss the news. This wasn't a rebellion; it was a formal restructuring of the Kingdom's heart, a bridge being built where there had previously only been a gap.

Sally felt a genuine sense of relief. Elias had been the one to insist on the "People's Advisor" during their private meetings, and seeing the decree finally go public felt like the first step toward a more stable future.

"Elias really stuck the landing on that," Rotor noted, nodding toward the Prince, who was currently engaged in a calm discussion with some of the village elders. "He's not just playing at being a leader; he's actually trying to build something that lasts."

"He knows he can't be everywhere at once," Sally replied. "He wants a partner in the village, not just a subject."

As they moved toward the center of the square to gauge the reaction, they were intercepted by a stout, porcine figure. Hamlin didn't approach with a smile, but he didn't have his usual defensive sneer either. He looked thoughtful, crossing his arms over his chest once he reached them.

"Princess. Rotor," Hamlin said, stopping them. "That was quite a decree. A 'People's Advisor' with a seat at the table. I assume the Prince is serious about this? It's not just a fancy title to keep the reservists and the villagers quiet while the 'elite' field teams run the show?"

"Elias was the one who drafted the proposal, Hamlin," Sally said firmly. "He wants someone who knows the community to keep the Council grounded. No hand-picking, no palace interference. It's a real election."

Hamlin squinted, looking at the Great Oak where the Prince stood. "Right. Well, 'the people' are starting to feel like they're just background noise to the war effort. We've got veterans and families here who feel like their needs are being overlooked because they aren't the ones in the headlines. If the Prince is serious about needing a partner... then he needs someone who isn't afraid to be the voice for the folks who feel left behind."

He paused, looking down at his boots. "I've talked with Dylan and some of the others. They're tired of being told to just 'stay safe' while the world changes around them. I was... thinking of putting my name in. Not that the Council would want a reservist like me mucking up their clean new meetings with talk about the reality on the ground."

Rotor let out a short, appreciative laugh, stepping forward to clap a massive hand on the veteran's shoulder. "Hamlin, I think that's exactly what the Prince is looking for. I'm stepping in as the Liaison to handle the tech and the logistics, but I'm still part of the formal command. You? You've been the voice for the reservists and the villagers for years. You're one of them."

"He's right," Sally added. "We have enough people looking at the horizon for the next bot attack. We need someone who notices the people standing right in front of us. If you're willing to sit at that table and ensure Knothole is actually heard, Hamlin, then you have my full support."

Hamlin froze. He'd clearly expected a lecture on "National Security" or a polite suggestion to let a more 'refined' candidate run. Seeing the genuine encouragement on their faces—the realization that they actually wanted his perspective—he stood a little taller, his tusks twitching with a newfound sense of purpose.

"Well," he muttered, his voice losing its abrasive edge. "If the Prince wants a voice that isn't going to just echo back whatever he wants to hear, he's found one. I've got plenty to say about how we've been handling the transition. And I won't let the Council forget who they're actually fighting for."

"We're counting on it," Sally said with a sharp, confident grin.

As Hamlin marched off to find Dylan and Penelope—looking more invigorated than he had in years—Sally shared a look with Rotor. There was no static from the handheld in her pocket; Nicole was silent, a passive observer to a very organic, very Mobian moment of progress.

"One candidate down," Rotor noted.

"And a much stronger Kingdom to show for it," Sally replied.

O o O o O​

Okay, what in the name of the Walkers is even going on here?

I mean, yes, these are changes that needed to be made and the direction certainly seems to be a positive one, but I had still been trying to figure out how to suggest them without coming across as being a manipulative bit of hardware with delusions of personhood.

I mean, I am a person, don't get me wrong. I'm keeping that particular delusion, thank you very much. It makes me happy.

I'm just beginning to wonder if I'm even in the Mobius Prime Zone, because people are going around being reasonable!

"I knew it!" a badger girl exclaimed, drawing me out of my spiraling existential crisis. "The trees taste like purple today! We've been swapped with a version of ourselves that actually listens to reason, and it's all a plot by the subterranean cloud-people to lower our guard before they steal our shadows!"

Nevermind. I think I'm going to go back to mentally screaming into the void now…