Pulling out my next random target doesn't work, so I give it a gentle push. It pops out like an SD card, and before I get to ask, Alvin starts blabbering.

"Orange Blues is a 2D-4D isometric top-down first-person action racing puzzle platformer developed by literally no one cares, released exclusively for the console you, personally, do not and will never own."

Ducking under his wildly gesturing arms, my own processing finally catches up to the pace of his words and the fact that it's all nonsense. Before I know it, he has already gone over the gameplay, story, and trivia, and is now announcing his gaming ambitions.

"...and speedrun history will be made as soon as I'm no longer constrained by this feckin' inhibi-bi-bi-biiiiiiiii—"

Stuck in his avid fanboy rant, like a game freezing right when the background music hits a particularly grating note, Alvin stands still. I wave my hands in front of his face. No reaction.

"Hey," I say, unimpressed. This chip sure is inhibiting something, but in Alvin's own words, it's not the thing that really "constrains" him.

I put the tiny piece of plastic back in. Wouldn't have the heart to tell him his favourite game obviously doesn't exist. The lid on his arm suddenly closes, and I narrowly escape the pain of slamming my fingers in it. Alvin drops to his knees, eyes closed and arms loosely hanging at his sides.

"Buddy? Pal?" I grab his shoulders and give his body a gentle shake. "Where's your reboot button?"

To my relief and-or disappointment, there's no need to go on a questionable search for where that button might be located. Alvin opens his eyes again and stands up, happy as ever.

"How may I be of service, User Lulu?"

Despite what I just witnessed, it really is a tool made to serve humans. With or without the promise I made to Róisín, I'd hate to see what would happen if Goldenrod got their hands on it.

"Awaiting User input."

"So," I say, "I have no idea how to remove that inhibitor thing, and I don't wanna break you to find out."

"If breaking me helps you, then—"

"No, it won't!"

Alvin winces; I shrink back.

"Uh, I didn't mean for that to come out so strong." I scratch the back of my head and avert my gaze. "What I'm saying is, I'm here to free you, not hurt you."

He waits for me to continue, confusion spelled out all over his face. It must be hard to grasp that I want to do something for him.

«Please, set him free. For his sake and yours.»

Róisín's words echo in my mind. I don't understand what Alvin's freedom has to do with me, but if it was taken from him, he should have it back. And given the Lonicera Medical Centre's history with Goldenrod...

"Look, we're on the same team." Gloves stuffed into my pockets, I put my right hand forward. "So as the leader by default, I've got your back. Don't go breaking on me, all right? There's plenty I'll need your help with."

Alvin blinks slowly. The moment his eyes open again, his lips curve into a smile and he takes my hand to seal the deal.

"It'll be my utmost pleasure to serve you, User Lulu."

I distinctly feel each individual segment of Alvin's ball-jointed fingers. His skin—question mark—is unlike anything I've ever touched. It's somewhat responsive to pressure, soft, yet smooth in a way that reminds me of glass. Gentle tingles flow through my fingertips. It's quite nice, actually. And pleasantly warm.

...I think it's getting warmer.

Fixated on the question of what Alvin's body is made of, I firmly hold on, and he responds in kind. My gaze moves from our hands up to his face. His cheeks are painted red.

Is the computer in front of me blushing!?

Suddenly—should've seen it coming—it's as if my hand were glued to a burning hot stovetop. My delayed instincts finally make me let go to rigorously shake my hand, desperate for even the tiniest bit of relief.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuu—!!"

And like that's not bad enough, in my panic I step full force on my injured leg. Sharp pain shoots through me and instantly brings me to my knees, reopening my wound.

So I'm just kind of a ball of misery on the floor.

"I'm so sorry, User Lulu!" Alvin whines, helplessly flailing his arms around but not daring to move from his spot. "I had to overclock to keep up with the conversation and prioritized my performance so much I—"

When I start laughing, he stops.

"...User Lulu?"

"We're not that different." Forcing a smile, I sit up and hold my wrist tight to keep my hand steady. "Chill. It's no big deal."

Conflicted, Alvin looks at my hand and at my grazed knee peeking through the torn leggings, then back into my eyes. He probably wants to disagree with me but literally can't.

"Allow me to treat your wounds, if nothin' else?" he pleads.

"Like I said, it's cool. I'm okay."

"...Awaiting User input."

I gulp down a sigh. Alvin only acts in response and service to me, but that was the closest we've gotten to him saying he wants to do something. And I told him he's not needed.

When will I finally stop playing co-op like I'm in single-player mode?

"Fine," I yield, guilt swept under the rug. Or floor tiles. "Lead the way."

"I wouldn't dare, User Lulu."

My eyelids drop halfway. Takes too many resources to keep them open. "I don't know where the medical supplies are, my guy."

"Ah, right." Alvin offers a hand, with caution. "According to my system health check, my outer temperature has returned to regular levels."

I reach out without hesitation. He gently pulls me up by my wrist so as to not put any more strain on my burned hand.

We make our way past the supercomputer racks, chatting like old friends when arguably neither of us are experts in the field of relationships.

"Word on the street is you're something like a doctor," I say, recalling Róisín's strange recount of the old days. "How 'something like a' are we talking here?"

"Are you asking if I'm a 'professional' who is 'licensed' to practice medicine in USER_COUNTRY?"

"You know what, that answers my question."

"Always a pleasure to be of service."