Ziggy Stardust

Brochures seemed very wasteful, too, so why did they have them? She would've asked Bob about the logic of this (or lack thereof), except his mood had gone from questionable to foul, but there were no screens to write swear words in, or beer, so he self-destructively internalized this.

The android at the job office was remarkably human-looking. If not for the squeaky sound her joints made when she moved too fast, Stella might've had a harder time recognizing her as one. When Stella had mentioned wanting a job, Bob's snarl smile had returned. He escorted her to another booth without a queue, where an android woke up from her... nap...? To help them into her office.

That was then, and this was now, and now she handed both of them brochures. Bob pretended to read his. Stella didn't, because she couldn't; her language modules hadn't finished updating yet. Unlike Shigure's insults from earlier, these weren't in English. 

Stella asked the android, "How did you get this job?"

The android sat before a desk with a half-solved puzzle and a book atop it. "I applied," she replied.

"...yes. But how?"

"You go to the network, you search 'available jobs in my area', you choose your preferences, it gives you a shortlist, and then you apply to whatever interests you."

"It? Who?"

"The network."

"Internet," Bob clarified.

Oh. Right. They had that, too, back in her day. She couldn't use it too much because the enemy used it to track their location. A virus had once spread across her platoon which had turned most of them against their own faction. "Is there any other way to..." The brochures. So that's what they were for. To protect androids against enemy mind control viruses. It all made sense now. "...I understand. Fu... Yu... Ka..."

"Bob is fine," said Fuyukawashigure.

"...Wa... Sh... Gu.. Re... could you please read this to me?"

Gently, he took the brochure from her hands. The android began to work on her puzzle again. "Most of them are office jobs," he told Stella. He glanced at the android—at the name on her tag. "Ms. Flora, I'll just send you her file. One moment." There it was, that weird black ball that turned into a line that turned into a screen. After a few taps from him, another glowy white square popped in front of the android, whose eyes widened the more she read about (presumably) Stella's 'file'.

"What... why would someone like her be looking for a job?"

Fuyukawashigure nudged his head at Stella, as if prompting her to reply. She didn't feel like doing so for some reason, but she had to if she wanted to remain agreeable. "It would be wasteful not to. I believe I'm fully functional."

"But your file says you're a 'retired veteran'," the android replied. "You're part of a program to accomodate those like you. All your needs will be covered until you die. And..." She glanced at Fuyukawashigure. "Could it not be potentially dangerous?"

He shrugged. 

Why had she said 'die'?

"Could we switch?" Asked Stella. "You get the program and I work here."

The android seemed to consider this, but Fuyukawashigure said, "No," and then the android grinned sheepishly.

"No," she echoed. "I'm afraid that's not possible. Why not find an occupation? You could have a small farm, or... hmm... librarian?"

"I'm afraid of books," Stella replied.

Fuyukawashigure's commentary on the subject was a 'What', but this was unimportant, so the android continued: "You could try art. Painting, picking up an instrument, writing a memoir."

"I'm afraid of books."

"My bad. It could also be gardening your own food. There's a big wave of retro nostalgia lately, so you could find and repair junk from Earth's landfills." The android had read Stella's file. She must've read that was exactly how Stella had come back to life, according to what... what was her name again... Fuyukawashigure's friend had said. Was this android being mean? She went on: "Point is, there are many things to do for retired citizens. You're not like me, who works two jobs to pay debt, or your social worker, who's here as part of a criminal rehabilitation program."

"Too much information," Fuyukawashigure said.

"My bad. That's what your file says."

"Why did you look into my file?"

"Y—"

"I did not give you permission."

"B—"

"Just give her something to do," he finished, "And fast."

The faint, gentle thrum of the android's receptors had turned into whirring. She stayed there, frozen, trying, and failing, to ventilate them. She must be an old model. Not as old as Stella, but old enough to even have issues of the sort. Surely, after almost three centuries of androids being invented, their makers ought to have found a way to prevent overheating of the main system, right?

"Sorry," said Fuyukawashigure. "I—I know why you did it. I'm sorry."

Still whirring. "It's fine," replied the android, even though it wasn't. "In any case, um. You don't need to work. You don't have to work. Your, um. Your model is, um. There hasn't been a war since the one you died in. Just do art or something. Um. I have to. I have to run a wellness check. Sorry. Take all the brochures you want."

She had said 'died' again.

Fuyukawashigure looked sad now, or maybe angry. Probably not happy. Upon taking a handful of brochures, he and Stella left the android's office. They stood in front of the door, watching the main-station-that-looked-like-an-airport, people and androids hustling by. Stella fidgeted. It was that, or tugging at her ear. "Don't worry," she said. "I'd already surmised you were a criminal."

"Thanks, that helps a lot."

"You're welcome." It wasn't until she'd uttered those words that she realized he'd been sarcastic. "Oh. Never mind. What's your kill count?"

"Three million."

"That's not much."

He held out a hand. "Let me read these to you." Stella handed the brochures to him. He'd been sarcastic again. Good. Three million was a frighteningly high body count, so it might've rendered him unfit to participate in society. She'd just said that to try and cheer him up. "Let's see... more office jobs. House maid... no. Librarian..." He smiled. She'd admitted to her greatest fear and he bit back a snort in remembrance. The nerve. "...maybe a waitress? Catgirls are usually in high demand. My bad, I meant androids with feline characteristics."

"Catgirl is fine," Stella said. "I am, indeed, meant to represent a female human with cat ears and a tail."

"Then a waitress is probably fine. Would you mind working at a coffee shop?"

"Anything to improve society."

"Oh, for sure. Coffee shops are the backbone of society. Then it's settled. We'll get you a house and a job. How lucky you are."

He didn't sound like he meant it, which could mean that this was a trap, that he didn't actually think this, or that he was jealous. If jealous, was it because he wanted a house and a job or because he wanted to be a waitress catgirl? 

Soon after, he got a notification from what seemed to be a wristwatch. It pinged, then a mini-screen popped up from it. Fuyukawashigure read it. "Test results are fine," he informed. "Are you hungry?"

"No."

"Huh. You sure?"

"Yes."

"...huh."

He'd mentioned eating before, too. Maybe androids could eat now, but not her. Nor did she want to. Sure, tasting different flavors could lead to momentary happiness, but expelling used food did not seem like a pleasant experience. She'd asked a few humans about it before, but they never wanted to answer for some reason.

So they left the main station.

So they were now in the aquarium.

Stella was now part of the aquarium—life in a bubble on top of the moon.

And it was... disappointingly like Earth.