Almost a year after getting half kidnapped and half adopted into the haphazard collection of the mish mashed families of Sector 1109, Midas found it was easier than ever to just lose himself in the tasks lined up for him each day. Some of them were self appointed, others were requested, and very few were forcefully assigned to him. The latter kind were usually only ever given to him by Ian or Whip, the two unofficial leaders of this little slum establishment. And they usually didn’t have any advanced warning since more often than not they were dragging him into fights with the local wildlife or brigands that had decided to show up and cause a fuss. Midas’ status as a fellow cyborg to those two had made him a prime candidate for getting dragged into the scuffles since there was a very small chance of him getting hurt compared to other slum members. He didn’t particularly like getting into fights, but he couldn’t deny it was better he fought than the others. At least he could shoot a pistol and avoid getting hit in return.

Such tasks had been the motivation behind this particular self appointed project that had been taking the greater part of his time for the past two months. Midas had enjoyed working with scraps of broken or half functioning machines for as long as he could remember. Restoring them to their full original function, or breaking them down and combining them with other pieces to give them new life with different functions. His skill had earned him a sort of handyman role among the crowd, with questions geared towards improving their living conditions being prime jobs for him. A half muttered complaint after the most recent molrillo attack wishing the wild creatures would just stay away had prompted Midas to look into fulfilling such wish.

The massive burrowing creatures weren’t a frequent problem, but they were devastating when they came. With the young already being as large as a standard home they easily destroyed what few stable structures the Sector’s inhabitants had. And if the molrillos weren’t driven away soon enough they were known to snatch people and drag them underground for food. The only reason the enclosed city the slums were built around didn’t have to deal with the beasts was because it was built on a bed of deep rock, which the molrillos couldn’t dig through. Something that the slums weren’t fortunate enough to have.

Yet after a little research and testing Midas found the critters could be easily driven away from an area via sound waves of a particular frequency. Being blind, the beasts relied more heavily on smell and hearing. And while flooding the Sector with noxious fumes on a regular basis was an option, it wasn’t one the residents wanted to actually go through with. Which left Midas with his current job of modifying the corpse of an ancient broadcast tower to create an underground sound barrier for the establishments instead. Most humans couldn’t hear the frequencies that molrillos could, so building an ultrasound generator to pump those sound waves into the ground a large enough diameter to cover the Sector would give people some peace of mind as well as allow Midas to avoid getting his leg chewed on again.

Midas barely remembered the day he got dragged into Sector 1109. But he knew it had been because of the very molrillos he kept getting set to deal with. Something about a little one popping out of the ground and trying to eat some kids, but apparently he ran in and almost got his leg bitten off instead. It was how everyone had immediately known he was a cyborg, his metal bones preventing him from losing said leg. But if it weren’t for people periodically reminding him of the event he probably would have forgotten it already. His early memories were just hazy like that. Everything from before just a half a year ago being a jumbled mess of discordant data streaming in his mind like partially pixelated videos. As though his memories were only poorly recorded movies degraded by the passage of time. They liked to contradict each other too. One memory showing him the face of a little girl with blonde pigtails and telling him that was his sister. And at the same time several other ‘memories’ overlapping that one and claiming no, she was actually his daughter, or cousin, or just a friend, or actually some stranger entirely and he had no idea who she was. She had fifteen different names. So many different siblings. Her favorite foods kept changing. The games she played were inconsistent. It was like this with everyone. Some people only being faded blurs or scratched up photographs. Like his brian was only a database where people had dumped random home videos into for safe keeping. It was migraine inducing, and had made it difficult to form new memories in the beginning. New memories that actually felt like memories and not bits of digital data. Something personal to have to hold onto. Something more than just his first name.

It was one of many reasons why Midas preferred to lose himself in work instead of being left alone to think. He didn’t like working with people either, just machines. Other people just reminded him of all the things that were odd about him. The lack of memory. The ignorance about basic things that made people human. Like understanding when he was sick, or being able to hold an idle conversation. No, it was much easier to focus on constructing machines. They didn’t give him weird looks, or get uneasy from his comments. And this particular one was actually almost finished. Just some fine tuning of the wiring to make it more stable as well as durable. It wasn’t complicated, and arguably wasn’t strictly necessary. But they were missing a sufficient enough power supply and weren’t planning on heading out to get one until tomorrow. Which left Midas laying on his back underneath the project, staring up at the exposed underbelly of the machine and distracting himself with menial tasks for the rest of the day.

Something that apparently was going to be difficult for him as the finger mounted soldering rings were on their last nuggets of power themselves. With how small of a device they were that should have been inconceivable, most workplaces would replace the device long before the battery was drained. But that was only for workplaces within the city walls. This particular tool was actually one of the ones those people had thrown away. Getting tossed in a heap of scrap for someone in the slums to have dug out years ago. They were well used, and apparently officially at the end of their life. Midas had been stubbornly clicking the rings together for the past twenty minutes or so to coax the device to work just a bit longer. But it looked like this would be the last wire he was able to get soldered in place. No matter how much he clicked the rings together now they no longer produced even a hint of heat.

With no readily available replacement battery, Midas heaved a sigh and flopped his arms to the sides, staring up at the exposed wiring above him. He really didn’t want to stop. The only reason he had to wait until tomorrow to go look for a power supply was because Whip and Ian had left a few days ago to take care of an escort job to earn some rewards for the Sector. Which meant they weren’t there. Which meant Midas didn’t have anyone that wasn’t horribly uncomfortable to be around. Well, at least it seemed he had wasted a significant amount of the day. Taking a peek out from under the machine, to the half covered hole of a window at least revealed the sun was starting to set. So it was probably time for a break anyway. Dinner was sort of necessary, and maybe he could bribe someone for a treat that wasn’t the usual synthetic slurry provided to them by the city. Some sort of protein and vitamin packed gelatin that only occasionally tasted like something other than its ingredients.

Thinking about the potential food he had to look forward to made it even harder for Midas to want to get up. He didn’t have any new gadgets to give anyone as a subtle bribe for a reward of choice. And if he were being honest he was pretty sure most people in the Sector thought he was annoying if not difficult to deal with. They tolerated him, of course. They were nice to anyone that didn’t outright abuse the people there. But they weren’t exactly friends. The only people who weren’t holding back some kind of wary fear towards him were Whip and Ian. And it was only because those two were also cyborgs and therefore could easily combat him if he went rogue. The ever looming risk for all cyborgs. To suddenly catch the rampant virus that burned away their minds and turned them into rampaging destructive zombies.

Great. He was thinking again.

Heaving another sigh that he was strangely unable to hear, Midas took the cable he’d been holding in his mouth out and popped it back into its place before he dragged himself out from under the machine. He was supposed to be keeping an eye on the kid helping him with this project anyway. Which meant food time for the both of them. Limu was one of the other residents of the Sector who seemed to have a knack for machines, so he was currently helping test the speakers that were to be used with the sound barrier generator. Which meant he was hunched over a battered laptop plugged into a converter plugged into a daisy chain of mismatched speakers, all drumming with some kind of music that Midas wasn’t listening to. It was a pain to get speakers to play nicely with each other, all having the same output volume and clarity. But Limu was stubbornly trying to figure the task out on his own, and Midas had been instructed to let him. But if he had to take meal breaks then this teenager did too. Which meant Midas was moving over to the lad, absently wondering if they had both forgotten lunch and opening his mouth to call out to him. But then he remembered for the thousandth time talking to Limu wouldn’t work, and let the words die on his exhaled breath. One of these days he would stop forgetting, but apparently that wasn’t today.

Oh well. Time to pretend to be friendly.

Coming to a stop just behind Limu, Midas reached up and gently touched his shoulder to get his attention and winced when the lad’s head jerked up in startle. As his expression shifted to an apologetic smile, Midas pointed his middle finger towards his own chest before flicking it upwards in a casual, [What’s up?]

It took Limu a second to respond, having to put a hand to his own chest to calm himself down and giving a silent chuckle before answering. [Not much.] The signs rolled much more smoothly for him, thumb under his chin moving into open hands in a well practiced motion that flowed into other gestures that Midas quickly lost track of what they meant. It caused him to quickly start making calming motions at Limu to get him to stop. Then gave a sheepish grin and brief pleading motion before pointing at the laptop, adding in a typing motion just to be clear. It earned a crooked grin from Limu, even though his brow was a little furrowed. But he relented with a slight shake of his head, turning back to the laptop and opening a simple note program.

‘For someone with a computer for a brain, you learn really slow.’

The sharp jab came with a flashed smile, the brat knowing he was teasing Midas with a bit of teeth behind it. But it was worth it as Midas’ face scrunched into an annoyed pout, huffing quietly and reaching over to rest his fingers against the laptop’s edge. A little direction to the nanites in his body created a connection to the computer, and also caused a small section of network lines to softly glow under his skin.

‘You shush. My brain is still organic, and it’s only been three months. You try learning a whole new language in that time.’ Midas caused to appear on the note program underneath Limu’s jab.

It earned a snicker from Limu as he raised his hands to the keyboard again. ‘I thought cyborgs could just download new information into their heads. Whip and Ian do it all the time.’

It was true, but it hurt to read. It was one other thing that constantly nagged on Midas’ brain, trying to convince him something was wrong with him. Whip and Ian knew all languages as soon as they became cyborgs, and could easily pick up new knowledge. Like having an entire library on standby in their heads for them to access whenever. That and despite how many fights they got in, and injuries they got from them or other things, they never scarred. But Midas could barely access most of the cybernetic functions he supposedly had, and also had a very prominent scar sliced across his face from his chin to his forehead across his nose. It made him feel faulty, which caused him to grow sullen and not respond to Limu.

Realizing he went too far, Limu deleted the previous comment in exchange for a simple ‘Sorry.’, then awkwardly nudged Midas to get him to look.

It didn’t take away the discomfort completely, but Midas wasn’t going to hold it against him. Breathing a small sigh to try and let it go, Midas reached up to roughly ruffle Limu’s hair, skewing the headphones he was wearing and making him have to adjust them. He still didn’t respond with words, but that was enough for Limu to move onto typing an update for how his task was going.

‘I think I got the volume output balanced, but I’m having trouble with the clarity. Also the sounds file we have is corrupted, it’s not just the crappy speakers. I’m trying to correct it, but this laptop has poor processing capability and the glitches keep interrupting me. Too bad we can’t just break into C-Tech and steal one of their fancy new computers, huh?’

When he finished typing he gave Midas a sly grin, trying to goad him into agreeing to the idea of stealing better equipment. It wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed any of the slum residents’ minds, but the answer was always the same.

‘No. Too dangerous.’ Midas glared back.

‘Not for you.’

‘No.’ Midas insisted, trying to ignore the budding anxiety the idea of returning to C-Tech brought. ‘We don’t need those bastards using it as an excuse to chase you guys out. Plus, cyborgs aren’t even allowed into Cerah unless they’re registered and monitored all the time. No thanks.’

‘What if you just sneak in?’ Limu persisted, expression becoming more pleading than inciting.

‘Sneak into the most technologically advanced place in the world. Yeah. That’ll totally work.’ Midas huffed, trying to put every ounce of sass he could muster into the non spoken text. ‘What about just borrowing Aina’s computer? It can’t be that much older since they supply her with one. Being their employee and all.’

It wasn’t a terrible idea, but Limu still grimaced when he read it. ‘Yeah right. She’s under strict orders to not let any of us slumbags even near it. Paranoid we’ll try to hack their servers or something I guess. And you know Ian won’t let anyone use it without her knowing either.’

That was fair. Aina might be doing them a favor by not reporting every single thing that went on in the Sector despite being their voluntarily assigned babysitter. Turning a blind eye to the fact there were three cyborgs hanging out there and not just one, and sharing the food C-Tech sent her with everyone else despite being recommended not to. She even went as far as telling Ian about some of the projects being worked on at C-Tech that the public didn’t even know about yet. But despite that there were still things she wouldn’t give to them, or let them do. She still had to do her best to keep in their good graces considering they were the only ones with the technology to upkeep her prosthetic leg, and Midas couldn’t blame her for that.

‘That’s true.’ Midas wrote as a quick response, giving a low hum as he tried to consider other options. They could potentially just ask Aina to fix up the sound file herself, or get them a completely new one based on what they needed. But he ended up half distracted by the fact despite knowing he had made noise, having felt the vibration from the hum in his chest, he didn’t register having heard himself make any noise. An oddity that was only added to when he glanced at the laptop screen and noted the application behind the note program was indeed playing something. Was the volume just on mute? Limu wouldn’t notice, and the thought caused Midas to lean closer, squinting as if it would help and earning a confused, questioning look from Limu as he did so. 

Which consequently meant that neither of them noticed the extra figure practically stomping up behind them until a pair of hands roughly chopped down on each of their heads. The squeak the harsh treatment earned from Limu was drowned out by the blaring music, and Midas’ startled huff turned vocal protest as he whipped around to glare at the offending visitor was also smothered. Which flipped his mood from annoyance to concern, a hand raising to his mouth as he wondered if he’d gone mute while Whip made an aggressive sign in front of him.

[TOO LOUD!]

The snap in Whip’s motions mimicked the aggravation shown on his face, and he didn’t wait for either of them to respond before leaning forward and shoving them out of the way to touch the computer. As soon as he did so the music player was paused, and the volume control dropped to a minimum for next time. And within seconds of him making the adjustment Midas and Limu both noticed the vibrations they had gotten used to by now had stopped. Something that caused Limu’s expression to shift from dawning realization to incredible embarrassment, while Midas just stewed in a haze of confusion.

Taking a step back, Whip started talking to them vocally as well as signing, causing Limu to shrink into his shoulders even more. But despite the booming sound being silenced, Midas still couldn’t hear anything, and momentarily wondered if Whip was messing with him by acting like he was talking without actually saying anything. A thought that made Midas squint at Whip, nose scrunching in suspicion. It caused Whip to stop mid sentence, stare at him for a moment, then heave a sigh and reach forward to grab the sides of Midas’ head somewhat roughly.

-Turn your ears back on, monkey brain.-

The message from Whip was pushed directly into Midas’ mind via cybernetic transfer about the same time Midas vaguely felt his own nanites being directed to reverse the deafening alteration they had done on his hearing. With a sensation similar to his ears popping, all the noise from his surroundings suddenly flooded his ears with crisp clarity, causing him to smack his hands against them more out of surprise than actual pain. “Ah! Too loud! Too loud!” Midas protested, squinting one eye closed while the other glared at Whip.

He hadn’t realized he’d turned his own sense of hearing off.

“What. Were you two. Thinking?!” Whip snapped, easily brushing off Midas’ irritation at him and restarting his lecture with both his voice and his hands. “You guys were playing that music so loud everyone in a 200 meter radius had to vacate! No one could get close until Ian and I got back. I know you needed to test the volume capabilities, but you were supposed to make sure he didn’t blast everyone’s eardrums. But instead you just turned your own hearing off like an idiot!”

That part was directed at Midas, who sheepishly pouted and averted his gaze. When he was first brought here he probably would have snapped back at Whip, especially since he felt incredibly stupid for having not even realized he’d done what he had. But with Whip and Ian being the only ones there who didn’t give Midas weird looks, and were incredibly patient with him, he found it hard to be snarky with them.

“And you!” Whip rounded on Limu next, continuing to speak aloud so Midas knew he wasn’t the only one getting scolded. “You were supposed to keep an eye on the decibel count on the monitor. Did you want to scramble your brain? You’re both lucky you didn’t start bleeding from your ears or something!”

Ah. There it was. Whip could care less that they may have been annoying to the other residents, he was just concerned they could have hurt themselves. He was just like that for some reason. Both him and Ian. Anything that wasn’t living could be broken and they would brush it off saying they could always fix it or find another one. But as soon as someone was in danger they both lost it in different ways. It made it hard to argue with either of them.

[Sorry.] Limu signed sullenly, looking away for a moment before forcing himself to pay attention. [I got distracted trying to fix the sound clip.]

It wasn’t a good reason, but it was the truth. And after staring at them with a very unimpressed look Whip just heaved a sigh in relent. Limu was effectively chastised, he was always pretty easy to give corrections to and have him listen. And Whip could tell that Midas had been pushed into a sensitive state because of the incident. He was absently rubbing his ear at first, but now he kept cupping a hand over one, removing it, and putting it back repeatedly. Which made it easy for Whip to guess that he was trying to figure out how to actively manipulate his ability to hear, which then meant he was probably feeling inadequate again. It made Whip feel a little guilty for tearing into him verbally, and he gave up on any further comments he may have had.

“...C’mon. Let’s go get dinner,” Whip relented, voice falling to a softer volume. “We brought back a treat today, so we’re making sure everyone gets some. Just make sure you have Ana Maria make sure you didn’t do any permanent damage.” The comment about their resident doctor was directed at Limu, for Whip knew Midas was outside of Ana Maria’s expertise.

Limu had perked up at the mention of a treat, and nodded at the direction to visit the doctor. But as Whip looped his arms around the two and started directing them to follow him outside, Limu tried to get him to tell them what they had before they got there. [What is it?] he asked, looking hopeful.

“It’s a surprise,” Whip responded, doing his best to sign with one hand and getting a mischievous smile when Limu pouted in response to him deliberately not answering. “But I’ll give you a hint. It’s not soylent.”

That comment earned an actual noise of annoyance from Limu as he rolled his eyes with an exaggerated motion. Of course it wouldn’t be soylent. No one would ever call soylent a treat. But if Whip was that excited to surprise them then it must be something good. And that notion made it easier to follow him to the plaza. They weren’t too far away, there were so few of them that lived in the Sector that they only took up a few blocks of buildings. So it was only a short walk down a slight hill towards the clearing they had all come to call the center of their civilization.

It was really just an old restaurant from ages ago that had lost most of its walls and ceiling. A large kitchen with an ample area around it already full of old tables and chairs had made it a prime gathering spot for meals. Especially since there seemed to have once been a splash pad nearby, making it easy to pull additional water into pipes for washing stations so people didn’t have to crowd in the bathrooms or by the kitchen sink and get in the cooks’ way. As the trio neared the plaza, Whip could already tell there was quite the commotion. Which was understandable considering what he and Ian had brought back from their escort trip. They could barely see the brunette among the crowd, laughing at the excitement and trying to help direct the enthusiasm along with those who were on dinner duty today.

The energy of the others was contagious just from watching them, and Limu was quick to break away from their tiny group to go squeeze into the crowd. A few of the ones he wiggled past started to protest, but quickly cut off when they saw it was one of the children trying to push ahead. Most of the adults in the Sector had an only sometimes vocalized agreement that the children took priority when it came to certain matters. And being fed was one of those matters. Whip could only chuckle at the kid’s antics, watching him wiggle his way to the front. But the mirth became somewhat subdued when he turned slightly to see Midas hanging back from the crowd, staying a fair distance away from even the furthest edges. He usually did that. And while it was a little melancholic to see, Whip never called him out on it nor tried to push him to join the others. They way he stood, shoulders slightly hunched and hands loosely grabbing his own arms, betrayed that he was more anxious than bitter towards the others. And Whip couldn’t fault him for that.

But he wasn’t about to let Midas miss out on getting a chance to try the treat he and Ian worked so hard to get. It happened too often that Midas would wait for everyone else to get their share, only to end up with nothing being left because people came for seconds before there was a gap in the crowd big enough for Midas to feel comfortable taking his turn. So while he definitely wasn’t a child, Whip still gave Midas a quick pat on the head and hair ruffle before he followed Limu’s lead.

“Wait there,” Whip directed the red haired lad, moving forward to carefully wedge his way between the crowd.

“Hey- Whip! C’mon man!”

“Really? You probably already got some on the way here.”

“Watch it!”

“Actually I have not had any yet, as usual, so you all can suck it up and let me have finder’s first dibs for once,” Whip countered, playfully serious when the other inhabitants protested his actions. It was met with a few grumbles, but they begrudgingly fell quiet and let him through. It wasn’t often that Ian or Whip took the first pick out of the supplies that were brought in, even though they were the main ones who brought the uncommon items. So it was hard to protest when they all knew how much they depended on the two cyborgs.

Of course the commotion caught the attention of the servers, but none of them commented, and Ian actually chuckled softly when Whip held his hand out to him over the heads of the kids between them. “Grabbing some for the resident pallas cat?” Ian asked quietly, filling one of the bowls they had with a handful of pea pods. The glorious treat that they had brought back; fresh vegetables.

“He is way too skinny for that,” Whip snickered when Ian set the bowl in his hand.

“It’s all fluff anyway.”

“Ehhhh…”

“Baby tiger?”

That earned a snort from Whip, and he had to laugh while nodding. “Yeah that one fits,” he snickered, stepping away from the table to avoid blocking the line. “Thanks,” he bid, giving Ian a brief wave before starting to make his way through the crowd again.

This time the people waiting made room for him to get through, allowing him to get out of their way and return to the newest resident that had been adopted less than a year ago. Whip was just glad he’d stuck around after being left, the wary pose maintained even as his eyes curiously followed the bowl Whip was still holding high out of sight.

“Man, they're quite fussy for this one. Hope Ian doesn’t get swarmed,” Whip chuckled, glancing back at the crowd. And as Midas took the bait he laid and broke his gaze away from craning to look up the bowl to back towards the crowd Whip took advantage of it. Reaching into the bowl with his other hand, Whip took one of the pea pods and brought the little pod down to tap it against Midas’ forehead. “Know what this is?” he asked with a little grin, almost snickering when Midas flinched at the contact.

As soon as Midas caught sight of something green in front of him his hands clapped over it, making sure it didn’t get taken away. When it squished a little he felt a strain of anxiety over having possibly ruined the food to the point it was inedible. When Whip let go, Midas brought the pea pod lower, cradling it carefully in his hands and staring somewhat mystified at it. He realized he hadn’t destroyed it at the same time he realized what it was.

“… It’s a pea pod…?” he spoke somewhat hesitantly, always questioning his own knowledge.

“Yup,” Whip chuckled, gaining a mild softness to his expression. He wouldn’t give Midas the chance to notice though, reaching over and starting to shove the lad towards the open faucets with one hand. “Now let’s go get washed up so the dirt and grime doesn’t ruin the taste. We can go hide somewhere and enjoy them later.”

If there was one thing Whip and Midas had in common, it was a dislike of being in large crowds. They both preferred to stay in less populated areas, often climbing onto rooftops to eat meals instead of sitting amidst the hubbub of the other residents. Which meant Midas was obediently following his direction, allowing himself to be pushed to the repurposed splash pad washing stations while admiring the actual, real vegetable in his hand. He wanted to eat it now, but Whip had a point about the grime. Who knew what kind of terrible flavor he had on his hands, and inevitably transferred to the pea pod. It definitely needed to be washed off so he could fully appreciate the taste of the fresh food.

“Where in the world did you manage to find some?” Midas asked once they stopped at the faucets, gently setting the peapod on the top of the stone structure to save it from falling on the ground.

“On the way back we joined up with another caravan that was transporting food from Eutoli. We offered to keep them safe from the monsters and they gave us a few bags as payment,” Whip answered, also setting the bowl on the stone ridge so he could wash his own hands. He was looking forward to the fresh vegetables too, but he wasn’t going to pig out on them while Midas was occupied. He could already hear the kids gushing over the fresh food, laughing and marvelling over the taste. And some of the adults were happily reminiscing over the last time they had eaten peas. There was certainly a lot more excitement over dinner time today, and that left Whip in a pretty good mood.

When the faucet Midas was using got shut off, Whip pulled his gaze from the crowd back to him. With Midas’ memory being spotty at best, introducing him to new things was always an exciting gamble of witnessing him either remember something he’d forgotten, or get to experience something new for the first time. Both reactions were usually pretty fun to watch, so when Midas picked the pea pod back up Whip almost held his breath in expectation.

The first bite was hesitant. A small, nervous nibble on the end of the pod. But the taste must have been satisfactory for Midas almost immediately shoved the entire thing into his mouth after the first crunch. “Mm. You got enough for both of us, yeah?” he asked, keeping a hand in front of his mouth while he chewed as if there was even a chance someone might try to take the food away while he was actively chomping down it. His other hand began reaching for the bowl, already grabbing for a second. There was nothing like the taste of fresh food. Light, energizing, and strangely nostalgic.

“Yes, but only if you don’t steal them all,” Whip couldn’t help laughing as he half heartedly nudged Midas’ hand back to keep him from stealing too many. A simple gesture done more to make Midas think he actually was worried about sharing. The lad acted like he was going to steal all of them, but Whip knew if he actually let Midas have them all he would clam up and not take anything. So while Midas squirreled another pea pod into his cheek, Whip plucked the bowl from the ledge and started heading towards their usual dinner spot. They could come back for the usual main course porridge slop later; for now they could just sit and enjoy this little treat. And the nice thing was that since he’d started eating dinner with Midas, Ian had stopped badgering Whip to sit with the rest of the crowd. They had a nice little alcove in a half busted third floor of a building nearby that they sat in, feet dangling over the edge as they watched the broken town below. The bowl was placed between them, and after a small stretch of quietly enjoying the food Whip looked over.

“Pretty good, huh?”

The question was probably unnecessary with how Midas was chowing through the pea pods, sometimes swinging his feet when he was unable to completely contain his joy. But Whip figured he would ask anyway to encourage Midas to talk. Luckily it worked again this time. For the most part.

“M’hm,” Midas hummed gently, giving a small nod along with it. It was hard to keep from shoving a whole bundle of pea pods into his mouth to chew on in a wad. It might taste great for a moment, but then the bowl wouldn’t last as long. And he’d learned by now that it was better to savour the food he liked when given the chance since there was no guarantee he would get more in the future. There weren’t any plants in the slums afterall.

That thought caused Midas to pause, having a realization and looking down at the bowl again. “Hey, wait,” he started, pausing for half a second to swallow what was in his mouth. “Aren’t these seeds?”

“...Yeah,” Whip confirmed, not sure where the question was coming from. He had an idea where it was going, but didn’t want to assume.

“Well, couldn’t we plant them and grow our own food then?”

Ah, yep. There it was. This day in age growing a garden was a rare concept considering most of the soil in the huge basin they lived in wasn’t fit to support plant life. Most people in Cerah’s slums just assumed that was the case for the ground around them too, so they didn’t even bother trying. But Midas already tended to ask what other people didn’t; it was one of the ways they had found out he’d lost his memory. So Whip indulged him, like he always did. “Well, we could try. But the ground here kind of sucks for growing plants.”

“Can’t that be fixed?”

Whip couldn’t help laughing a little as another question oriented around fixing the problem came immediately. “Sure, I guess it’s possible. But then we get Cerah’s stuffy, controlling government invading our space and breaking things because they think we’re trying to create a biohazard or something.”

The response caused Midas to grimace, shrinking into his shoulders a bit at the mention of Cerah’s government and most likely police. He didn’t want to have to interact with them again if he could help it. “Oh…. You’ve tried it before, huh?” he assumed, gaze drifting to the pristine city walls topped by a fabricated dome that was too blue to be a proper sky. It was just another reason the people in the slums were bitter about those who lived within the city walls. It wasn’t enough that those unfortunate enough to not be included in the population limit had to live in a broken city of ruins, but apparently they weren’t even allowed to improve the living situation beyond a certain point. It was almost like there were people who were afraid of the world’s population increasing too much.

“Well, it’s one of the reasons we’re trying to figure out how to move, yeah?” Whip reminded, shrugging and leaning back on one arm.

It was true. A wild idea that Midas had yelled at others during an argument over complaints about the way things were. About not being able to change things because they didn’t know how. It was somewhat infuriating, and one of the reasons Midas stubbornly proved people wrong by doing what he could to make a difference. And also got on people’s nerves because of it. He was an oddball. Not thinking like others, not willing to just accept things the way they were. Always getting into trouble, or stressing people out. It made him wonder why they tolerated him being around. Made him wonder why Whip was sitting next to him instead of down with the others.

The myriad of thoughts and previous, loose conversation cause words to tumble from his mouth before he could think not to ask them. “Hey… why do you be around me?”

“Hm?” Whip hummed almost automatically, confusion causing his eye to scrunch slightly. Not because Midas suddenly forgot proper grammar, but more because he couldn’t fully understand where the question came from. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He knew Midas didn’t feel comfortable around other people, but he’d thought at least by now the kid understood that Whip didn’t mind him.

Yet his question only caused Midas to glance over while fidgeting, giving an uncomfortable shrug as if he could brush off the question entirely but also didn’t fully want to. Whip anticipated that if he was quiet for a bit longer Midas would crack and elaborate. But this time he didn’t want to bully the kid into opening up when he was obviously anxious.

“Because you’re fun,” Whip admitted, trying to sum the reasons all up into one while swinging his hands back behind his head and rolling back on them. When he looked over he saw Midas giving him a disgruntled face of hesitant confusion, and had to laugh a little. “Like that,” he pointed out, then added, “Plus you get good ideas. Fresh compared to all of us who have been stuck here for a while.”

It was weird to hear that the main reason was because he was fun, but maybe Whip just had a weird idea of fun. He was the other resident weirdo after all. “….Most people just think I’m annoying,” Midas admitted, though he did have a soft smile as he looped his arms around his knees and eventually turned to look at the empty horizon opposite of the domed city.

“Well that’s because they don’t know you anymore than you do,” Whip retorted, shrugging awkwardly since his arms were under his head. “Just be glad they’re not giving you any weird nicknames,” he added with a huff.

Midas couldn’t help snorting at the comment, turning to look back at Whip. “Yeah, what’s up with that? You know everyone only calls you that because they got tired of saying ‘the guy whose hair whips around when he fights’, yeah? You know it’s totally shady to not want to tell anyone your actual name?”

This time it was Whip’s turn to snort, if more defensively than out of amusement. “This coming from the guy who showed up with a Frankenstein-ed police motorcycle, and a set of C-Tech security officer pistols modified to shoot metal bullets. Which if I remember right were made illegal decades ago,” he poked back, pushing himself upright again but remaining relatively relaxed and draping an arm over a raised knee.

That caused Midas to shrink back, but still held a faith smile considering Whip had already complimented him previously on the equipment he had. “They were expired trash anyway, no one wanted them. I just dug them up and fixed them,” he huffed, a bit sheepish. “And metal bullets work way better against the molrillos anyway…”

“Yeah the motorcycle was out of service, but I know for a fact the pistols weren’t,” Whip countered, mouth quirking into an amused smile. “Wanna try again?”

“Hey, you’re the one that kidnapped me, remember?” Midas chuckled, giving in to the encouraged banter. “Bit late to be worrying about the contraband I have, isn’t it?”

Whip snorted again, rolling his eyes. “Ohhhhh I remember,” he chuckled. “I definitely remember the look on poor Aina’s face when I carried you into her lab, hollering about consent and fees and cussing up a storm for her tender ears to hear.”

“...I'm pretty sure now that she was more offended by you barging into her room than anything I was saying,” Midas half pouted, feeling just a little embarrassed about that whole affair.

“Oh, you figured that out about her already? See, you like each other. You’ll start fitting in with people in no time.”

Another snort, and an eye roll from Midas now. “I’m pretty sure she just thinks I’m an interesting science project to experiment with.”

“Nahhhh, that’s just how she shows affection. You’ll get used to it. She’s a real gem when it comes to taking care of cyborgs like us,” Whip brushed off.

As Midas fell more sullenly quiet after that response Whip realized he’d pushed one of the not playful buttons and stilled his own words. If just for a moment before he leaned into Midas’ view again. “...Still not used to being addressed as one, huh?” he asked gently.

It was an unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome response. Midas looked up again with a helpless tug at his mouth, giving a small shrug. “...Kinda hard to get used to being a monster that everyone hates and is scared of…”

That was fair. It caused Whip to pause, having gotten so accustomed to the treatment towards him that he’d forgotten how rough it had been in the beginning. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have that on top of not knowing anything about who he was or why he was like that. “...We’ll figure out what happened eventually,” he chose to console instead of dig or reminisce further. “Until then just be yourself and people will get used to you eventually. It took almost four years for them to get completely comfortable with me, and you’ve only been here one. But once they got to know us they loosened up. And if it worked for Ian and me, why can’t it work for you too?”

It was a logical thought. It wasn’t like everyone who was there was completely law-abiding anyway. So the little bit of rough and tumble spines Midas had with him probably wouldn’t be that big of a deal later on. It was enough for him to tentatively relax again, giving a soft word of thanks and watching the edges of the bleeding sunset.

At least until Whip reached over to lightly smack his arm. “C’mon. Peas aren’t enough for dinner, so we better go get some of the actual garbage before it gets stored away to get even more gross,” he prompted, pushing himself to his feet and laughing when Midas simply made a disgusted noise before dragging himself to his feet to obediently follow.