Misao - a racist eugenics BL robot

“What school?”

“Not sure. I never asked.”

“Grades.”

“Good?” Probably not, but it’s not like my parents can prove me wrong… for now. I’ll tell Tsukishima to pretend like she’s an honor student, or else.

“Mediocre good, or actually good?”

They’re taking turns to ask—first mom, then dad. We eat spaghetti with alfredo sauce for dinner. Dad is having a culinary phase again. “Actually good,” I say. “She’s uh, really good at math.”

I remember, too late, that mom corrected an error during our ‘study session’. She squints. “...above average, maybe.”

“Mom, remember she’s a year younger than me. She hasn’t seen those subjects in school yet.”

“There are six year olds solving differential equations.”

…oh, no. She’s going there again. If I believed in god, I’d ask for strength. At this point, I have none left. “Right,” I say. “You’re right. She’s mediocre at math. Moving on. She works part time and is part of the choir in her school, so she can only show up on Sunday. Is that alright?”

My parents exchange glances. In other words: mom stares at dad until he looks back at her. She says, “Aren’t there more productive ways to spend a weekend, though?”

“I’ll study once she leaves.”

“And your portfolio?”

“I’ll draw once I study.”

“Don’t you think you’d be able to reach the top if you put more importance on studying? You’re always a few points away from breaking into the top three. That’s nothing a few extra hours of studying can’t fix.”

Below the table, I dig my fingers onto the seat. “So no?”

“Oh, I’m not forbidding you from hanging out with friends. I’m just… nudging you to what I think would be the best option for you.”

“...alright.”

Why did I even bother asking?

Ah, that’s right—hope.

It’s such a stupid, pointless emotion. I bet Izawa and the other two can hang out with friends. From what I’ve heard, Izawa doesn’t even study. He pays attention in class, does his homework, and that’s it. He’s near the top by doing the bare minimum.

Why are some people born better than others? How is that fair? Why am I stuck in this insanity while most kids my age hang out together all the time? I skipped cram school the day of the Gwendolyn’s incident, and of course, they called my parents. I don’t get grounded because they don’t “believe” in it, but I kind of wished that they did. Then I’d have a reason to rebel.

After throwing my food in the trash along with the dish, leaving the can open, I head to my room.

So… I guess I’ll have to tell her no.

Again.

That always happens.

Once I say no enough times, they leave.

I’m not lonely.

I can’t be.

I don’t want friends.

I can’t have them.

I’m not normal.

After sTuDyInG, I tell Tsukishima: Sorry :( my parents said no.

She doesn’t take long to reply. That’s fine. We can have a watch party by streaming while on VC. Have you done that before?

…what?

Yes, I reply, then look it up. How is it watching something together if they’re separated? Make it make sense. All those formulas and vocab and names of dead people are making me nauseous, so I guess this is better than nothing. If I wear headphones, my parents won’t find out, although I guess that I won’t be able to speak much.

Tsukishima sends me a link, a time, and a date. Fine by me. At this point, I just enjoy things while they last. Since I can’t be lonely or have any friends, then this is a nice alternative: to be a glimpse on someone else’s life.

***

It’s cold, even for this time of the year.

It’d be nice if snow fell, but all we have is a gray, frozen world.

Still, it’s nothing a warm blanket and a hot drink can’t fix. My room is on the second floor, so I can look out the window for minutes at a time. People walk their dogs. People say hi. For the most part, they walk past each other in silence, wondering why they feel lonely.

Well, the cure is right there: just say hi to your neighbor. Just say good morning. Easy! Even watching the sky helps sometimes.

All of this, I think because Tsukishima joins the voice call twelve minutes late. “Sorry,” she says. “The neighbor’s iguana caught fire.”

“...come again?” I feel like I say that phrase way too often when around Tsukishima.

“Ah, yeah, it’s not an actual iguana thankfully. It’s a… robot, I think? I dunno. But anyway, it caught fire so the alarm went off. I’ll send you pictures later. But yeah. I’m ready now.”

…well then. (I also say that phrase way too often when around Tsukishima). “I’m also ready, but uh. I’ll probably have to text you instead. My parents think I’m studying.”

“You are studying. In a way.”

“Funny.”

“We’ll start playing it at the count of three…”

Wait… huh? I thought one of us would stream it while the other one watched. Wouldn’t that make more sense?

“Two…”

Then again, she’s the expert, I suppose.

“One… go!”

She pressed play a bit too early, but it’s fine, I guess. I get used to the echo-like sound pretty quickly. Like her eugenics BL, this one has very old, but very beautiful animation. I’ve never been one for anything made before I was born, but the color palette really compliments the mood. The soundtrack really adds to the ambiance. The way silhouettes—

Wait, I’m supposed to be focusing on the GL.

“My cat,” Tsukishima says. Something whirrs at the other end of the line. Her cat, I hope. I hope it doesn’t catch fire. “Say hi to Iason.”

…did she actually name the cat after the classist robot who bought a slave to—whatever. The fire thing is even funnier now. “Hi, Iason.”

“Meow,” Iason the cat says.

We finish the first couple of episodes with no further distractions aside from Tsukishima’s dad barging into her room to ask if the cat is with her. Once he confirms this, he leaves. Lucky.

“First question,” begins Tsukishima. “Do you find the characters attractive?”

Since I hear one of my parents walk by, I type the answer instead. Not really.

“...yeah, me neither.”

I can’t get used to the art style.

“Really? I think it looks nice. But, uh. Um.”

“Yes?” I say that out loud before I can help it.

“It’s just… you know.. I was just. You know. Just trying to look at this from different angles. Just to try. I do that sometimes. And I kept thinking that if I was a boy, I’d find Mariko attractive. Maybe.”

“Uh…” Right. Text. I forgot. Really? I hated her the most.

“I kind of feel bad for her, I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. It’s also the first time I watch this, so there’s a lot of stuff I won’t get.”

So you rewatch stuff often?

“Yeah. Depends. I watched the one I sent you before like twenty times and there’s still stuff I don’t get. Your stupid essay actually helped me with that. Maybe you can do another one for this one? Please?”

Certainly not if you call it a ‘stupid essay’.

“Not my fault it’s stupid and an essay. Would you call a carrot an orange because someone doesn’t like the word ‘carrot’?”

Am I surrounded by idiots? Is that it? Is everyone I meet outside of the top three stupid? Do the top three drain the brains of everyone around them, which is why they get to lollygag and hang out with their friends? I’m so done.

Die.

“Easy now,” she says.

Die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die

“Oh, my.”

“I’m just tapping the middle button.”

“Your keyboard suggestions worry me… hey, have you ever played that game where you tap the middle one until it says something coherent? Though I guess yours would just be die over and over again.”

Technically, that’s coherent.

“See, I thought that’s why you would like Mariko the most, too. She’s kind of like you.”

“...what?” I ask.

“You don’t think so?”

“No? But… earlier, you said—”

She hangs up.

I try to call her again, but I’m blocked. Again. What a coward. This happens every time her brain cells connect. What annoys me the most is that I was actually kind of getting into the story. If I look up online analyses, I’ll get spoiled, though this is the type of story where everyone dies at the end. That’s all it is, pointless suffering.

I don’t think real life is like that. I don’t think suffering has meaning, either, but we’re not predestined to fall prey to a grand scheme or a tragic flaw the way these 2D people are… although, then again, I walk past walking counterarguments every day. One of them confessed to me recently, and to date, I still don’t know if Izawa meant it or not. I never will.

Tsukishima calls me. Instead of a voice call, I click on the video icon just to show her the finger before hanging up. Then I contact her again, properly this time. “Sorry,” she says. “Internet fell off.”

Oh PLEASE.

PLEASE.

“On second thought, I actually don’t think that Mariko is my type. In fact, doesn’t she kind of look like me? Physically. I basically had that haircut for most of my life.”

So she’s not your type because she looks like you physically? You should love yourself more, Tsukishima :(

“Have you ever heard of selfcest?”

Why is teasing this wretched beast so difficult? Anyway, we’re digressing. What was the third point again? Attractive yes, physically attractive no. Would you date her?

Silence.

“...Tsukishima?”

“Your turn,” she says. “One: who’s attractive? Two: who’s physically attractive? Three: would you date anyone?”

I’m not answering until you do? Fuck off?

“Um. I don’t know?”

“Lies,” I say.

“I really don’t!”

“Stop lying, come on now. Just say yes. Just say that you’d date her. You always do that, don’t you?”

“Um. But. I don’t mean it?”

“So—” I keep forgetting to type instead, but it takes so long to do so, and I have to double-check each word. So it’s easy for you to say ‘I like you’ as long as it’s a lie.

“Well, isn’t everyone the same? Feelings add weight to words, not the other way around. But like. It’s just a cartoon. Alright? Just a cartoon. And we’re just doing an experiment. That’s it.”

“...I guess.”

We watch the rest in silence, save for the meows of a cat named after a racist eugenics BL robot.