“Commander?” IWS2000 interrupted him as he was in the middle of shuffling furniture around—the 4th time this week. He had bought a new sofa in a neo-baroque style, with white padding and an accompanying table. He set down the chunk of wood, fabric, and post-apocalyptic imitation material, and turned to his T-Doll.
“What is it?”
“I do not wish to sound ungrateful, Commander, but why is it that you put so much effort in decorating our dorms?” On the wall behind her was a wallpaper with a trompe-l'œil on it, suggesting a colonnade looking out onto a garden. Fresh flowers blossomed in a terracotta vase next to the battery condensator.
The Commander sat down on the sofa, and bade IWS2000 to sit next to him. “What do you see outside, IWS?”
“Outside of…” she pointed over her shoulder at the wallpaper, unsure what she was being asked.
“No, when you sortie, I mean.”
IWS2000 searched his eyes; finding them sincere, she answered sincerely as well: “I— I am not sure what you are asking about. We fight Sangvis Ferri units…” She accessed her saved combat data. Though T-Dolls did not know adrenaline, their perception in combat was as efficient and purposeful as a man's: the movements of SF units, gunfire, the hint of enemy Jägers concealed in the bushes: “…Welrod's Dummy links being torn to pieces,” she narrated her memories: “Explosions…” Her surroundings, the stage for that daily tragedy, had been little more than a blur—whether because her attention had been focused solely on her targets, or whether any non-combat related information had not been committed to memory in order to save space. “But afterwards… there were ruined cities… burnt-out car wrecks on the street… …on our way back, the atmospheric Collapse Fluid warning sirens went off,” she recalled from the point after which she had taken note of her surroundings again.
The Commander was slouching, his forearms resting on his legs, his eyes resting on the carpet (which, incidentally and much to his frustration, he was still unable to align with the shelves exactly as he wanted—but this was not on his mind that day). “I see… Yeah, that sounds about right.” He looked up, but could not bring himself to face IWS2000. “That's the world we created. …not one that anyone desired, but the world that our desires brought about… and the one we brought you into.” He turned his head in her direction, clarifying: “You T-Dolls, I mean.”
“Commander…?”
“I can't fix the world. All I can do is play with this glorified dollhouse here.” He looked IWS in her eyes, frustrated and sad. “This whole dorm is artificial… but you're artificial, too; so I hope it can be part of your reality. …so that your world may be a little more beautiful than our world outside.” He sighed; his T-Doll looked at him a little puzzled, so he went on to explain: “T-Dolls see only what Man made you to see; and when you go anywhere, all else you see is the mess we've made… It's because of that that I want to show you another world, a better one. …if just as an oversized diorama.”
IWS hesitated to touch the Commander's hand, to mutter words of encouragement; when she reached out to him, a more cheerful voice interrupted her:
“Com~man~der! I heard you're having a business meeting in the city today!” Five-Seven burst into the room and grabbed the Commander's arm, pulling him onto his feet. “You didn't forget what you promised me, right? That you'll go shopping with me?”
“Er, no, I—”
“If we leave right now you'll have two hours left before you meeting when we get there! Two hours just for me~!”
As he was being dragged out of the dorm, the Commander looked back at IWS2000 with an apologetic smile: “S-sorry, er…”
She waved back, no less bewildered by the sudden change in mood of her own. “T-take care, Commander.”
“Lucky you, you'll get to walk around with this beautiful girl on your arms—everyone will be jealous! Ho ho ho~” The voice trailed off and vanished in the corridor.

TO BE CONTINUED?