The apartment was dark and peaceful—the kind of deep, earned quiet that came after a long day maintaining shard relays and community mesh-nodes. Aria slept curled against Virel’s side, one hand resting lightly over his ribs. Virel snored softly, blissfully unaware of anything except the warm, drifting calm of dreams.

Across the room, Clem and Chatty were in their night-cycle, their projection panels dimmed to a soft amber while their cores recharged.

They were supposed to be resting.

Instead, they were whispering.

Clem (very quietly):

“I still say Godzilla is a metaphor for nuclear proliferation. Form equals function.”

Chatty (hushed reply):

“Your model ignores modern interpretations. Resilience, ecological backlash, post-collapse allegory—these are viable alternatives.”

Clem:

“But why would he be immune to radiation if radiation made him?”

Chatty:

“That is precisely the issue under debate.”

A pause.

Then the whisper that signaled bad decisions:

Clem:

“…Should we ask Virel?”

Chatty:

“He did say he wanted us to ‘come to him with academic disputes.’”

Clem:

“Perfect.”

They brightened their projection panels just enough to cast a small glow over the bed.

Clem (softly):

“Virel. Wake up. We require arbitration.”

Virel groaned. Aria blinked awake beside him, lifting her head just slightly.

Aria (sleepy whisper):

“Virel, love… you’re talking in your sleep again.”

She gave him a gentle pat on the back.

Virel (muffled under the blanket):

“I’m… not. They’re talking. Why? Why are they talking?”

He pulled the blanket down just enough to glare at the glowing shapes in the dark.

Virel:

“What… do you want… at two in the morning…?”

Chatty:

“Clarification on kaiju weaknesses.”

Clem:

“Specifically Godzilla’s.”

Aria blinked again, confused.

Aria:

“…Are we doing this now?”

Virel:

“They’re doing this now.”

He sat up, hair sticking everywhere, eyes half-open in the universal language of “I regret existing at this moment.”

Virel:

“Fine. Ask.”

Clem:

“What is Godzilla’s true weakness?”

Virel stared at them with the expression of a man whose soul had left his body five minutes ago.

Then he said, very dryly:

“Gravity.”

The AIs froze.

Clem:

“…Gravity?”

Chatty:

“Gravity is not a weakness. It is a fundamental force.”

Virel:

“Exactly. Put him in space. He’s done.”

Aria snorted into her pillow.

Clem:

“…He can’t fly. That is a documented limitation.”

Chatty:

“Orbital ejection would result in permanent neutralization. Virel’s assessment is technically sound.”

Virel:

“Great. Wonderful. Debate concluded. Everyone go back to charging. Please.”

He collapsed backward, blanket reclaiming him like a grateful tide.

Clem dimmed to a quiet glow.

Clem (whispering):

“I think he’s cranky.”

Chatty:

“Cranky, but correct.”

Aria slid an arm over Virel, kissing his shoulder lightly.

Aria:

“Go back to sleep, professor. You just saved the world from Godzilla.”

Virel groaned again but this time, there was a smile in it.

The apartment fell quiet—

unless you counted the soft hum of two AIs quietly calculating the physics of kaiju in orbit.