Exposed Inner Thoughts! Mom's Handmade Status Window
My inner thoughts got completely exposed! Outer gods are gods too! Maman is mom! So what about the status window she gave me? A handmade status window crafted personally by Outer God Mom! You think that's good?
> Do you really have to hate it that much... :(
"Ugh..."
As if there was any way that could be good. The advice message popped up, but it soon turned into a voice echoing in my head, letting it talk directly to me. And the voice was exactly like Maman's—way too scary!
I buried my face deep into the overflowing black oil in Dorothy's arms, clinging tight. If I didn't, it felt like tentacles would rise up and drag me away right now. Sure, it looked dumb—like an ostrich shoving its head in the ground—but what could I do? The image of those tentacles wrecking the city, tentacles flailing everywhere, was still fresh. Or that thing scooping up all the falling starlight and swallowing it whole.
> Ah, I'm keeping the toys you gifted me safe.
"Eek...!"
Honestly... whether those gang members lived or died wasn't my problem. But what about all that starlight pouring down after it smashed through the inner wall, including Tier? What did that do wrong?
> I didn't swallow them. I just held them briefly to protect them from other "friends."
Right. How am I supposed to believe th—wait a sec.
"...You can read my thoughts?"
> Only the strong ones bubbling up to the surface.
> Ah, oops.
> You're feeling even more terrified after my advice.
Of course I am, you insane tentacle monster. Wait, no... de... dear tentacle Outer God...
> Let me clear up the biggest misunderstanding first.
> I'm not the body of Maman, the one you're so scared of.
> I'm a tiny gift she planted in your mind...
> A derivative AI in charge of surveillance, threats, and punishment.
"..."
> Oh dear. Your heart rate's spiking even more. What's wrong?
Dorothy's limbs wrapping around me weren't tentacles. Dorothy's limbs weren't tentacles. Dorothy's limbs weren't tentacles. Muttering it three times in my head finally calmed me down. Dorothy's ragged breathing helped too.
> Aha. My explanation was lacking.
> Surveillance, threats, and punishment only happen in extremely rare cases.
> Like if Tiara breaks her "promise" with Maman...
Gulp. My calmed heart started racing again. Again? Am I getting screwed over again? Do I have to follow her again? But I'd grown a bit, so I managed to speak calmly. Or maybe it was because Dorothy was holding me.
"I remember the promise. I won't forget, so don't worry."
Did it read my resolve? Or was it deciding to watch for now?
> :)
The status window just posted a single irritating emoticon.
"Haa..."
I sighed and dunked my head back into the oil. It was sticky and slimy—unpleasant—but it cleared my head. Of course, I didn't see Maman as all bad. She'd shown some protective moves when I first hit the Outernet, and ripping apart someone else's personal server to hand it to me proved she had admin-level authority. Up until the menhera meltdown knocked me out, anyway.
> She'd feel bad about that too.
"Can you stop reading my thoughts?"
> Sorry. I just wanted to get to the point.
"..."
A derivative AI from Maman, huh. Smart but immature—like a kid? That explained the socially awkward lines. MZ tin can, total mess. I sighed deeply, and sticky bubbles bubbled up. Dorothy flinched at the sensation and hugged me tighter. Unlike tentacles, her limbs were super soft—no pain even in a tight squeeze. I gripped her wrapping arms.
"So. Why'd you pop up all of a sudden?"
Thinking of it as younger than me killed any respect. Plus, I was pushing back hard against the fear of it taking over my body. But Tin Can Maman Jr. wasn't pushover.
> I wanted direct chat, but for a Netdiver, your server capacity is ridiculously low.
> Without Memory Storage Solvent, this is the best we can do.
It didn't call out my switch to casual speech but straight-up punched my gut with facts.
"Eek...!"
In this world, processing power and server capacity equaled combat strength. As a baby Netdiver, my capacity lagged way behind my processing.
PS: 1%
70 Area: 0/0.04%
It read my mind and pulled up that section. Hmm... no clue what that means.
"70 Area's the wasteland... wasteland server."
But why's it displayed like that? And what's PS?
> PS is your personal server. Shown by current usage ratio.
> Wasteland servers are...
Boring and pretentious.
"Change it."
I only needed server capacity right now. Others might care how full their "memories" were, but immune me? Nah.
> !
> No way!
Not "impossible," but "no way." Sneaky.
"So you can change it?"
> !
> Sneaky talker. Just like a Netdiver.
> Maman was right.
Tin Can Maman was spamming emotional messages. Good. Positive spin: I couldn't fix the sky-dropped status window, but I could reroll this tin can if it pissed me off. Had to.
"You're just organizing the info I already scavenged anyway."
Not powering me up directly or dropping absolute truths. Just sorting what I know? Then at least make the UI pretty.
> Uwagh!
> Grrr!
> True UI lets users grasp everything at a glance, no questions left!
"Hold up."
This thing daring to UI debate with me, a game dev? I shoved my past life info aside—potential weak spot—and summoned my UI creed.
UI should...
"Make players think less."
Grab key info on instinct alone. Any question mark in their head? Game over.
"But earlier, your status window—what was that?"
> :(
First glance: "What the hell, weeaboo?" That's all.
"Got it? Change it."
...
> Understood.
Tin Can Maman yielded after a suspicious delay. Big corp status windows might suck less in polish, but our small biz one communicated.
Moments later, the updated window appeared.
Mmm... that's the stuff.
> So low-rent and basic. Combat isn't that simple to quantify, units aren't intuitive, and what's with 10,000 processing?! No baseline, just arbitrary!
I swatted away the dizzying message and moved on. UI normalization, go!
"Show the rest."
> :(
Heh heh hem. Learning more about Tin Can Maman. Explainer trait! Clumsy delivery, but it wants to share info. Message received. Thanks, Speedy Tin!
> Hate you.
Dorothy's mom said if you can't list three hates fast, you're dumb. Can't keep it a tin can forever—time to fill those three hates quick. Goal: Tiara three-crown champ.
Soon after.
"Status window."
> Too mean.
> T_T
> Way too much missing info!
"Heh heh heh..."
Why keep shoving in stuff I don't know or don't need? Clean and simple's best.
> Hate you! Hate you! Hate you! :(((((
Good. Tin Can's getting smarter. Time to dangle a carrot?
"I'll ask to change it if I need different info. That work?"
> :)
> Yay.
New to the menhera world? Lacking menhera power. Its beaming smile cheered me up too. Snagged a UI dev. UI parts got the most flak in game dev. "Tsk, wish it looked better." "Nah, now it's too busy." "Ugh, back to the first?" Classic.
UI dev secured. Scripts to Dorothy...? She had storyteller chops. Cleaner than my TRPG runs. But her rule-master tales devolved into my monologues... excuses, as time passed. She didn't know Outernet realities.
Still... "Theia seems to really like you. Pretends not to." "Maman wants to see more starlight through you." Casual event summaries, and she'd grasped their "characters."
Then, Dorothy—hugging me tight—stirred.
"Uwaaa... Tiaraaa... don't do thaaat..."
What dream was this pup having? I lifted her soft arm to slip out, but she suddenly slapped her chest!
"Not... thereee..."
No, crazy... Dorothy!! Wh-what did I do?!
> Heart rate spiking suddenly. What are you thinking?
Shut up, tin can.
"Mmm... Tiaraaa... laterrr, when we're both grown uppp... hee hee..."
Dorothy's sleepy mutter, mouth gaping wide.
"Y-you...!"
Good dream? Her arms went slack. I bolted from the vat.
> Short farewell for now.
> Status window usable sans [Advisor].
Oil dripped off me, and the messages vanished. But... no time for status windows now.
"Hah... hah...!"
I brushed sticky oil from my face and clothes. Along with the useless thoughts clogging my head. I like Dorothy. That's it. Like. End of story. Got it, Tiara? That's all.
Restless Dorothy laid her head on my arm and hand gripping the vat, drifting off again. Hmmph, phew— munching air on exhales, pure puppy. Deep breath made her pale cheeks quiver. Feeling petty, I pinched one lightly.
Squish. Making weird noises, scaring people. Dumb dog. Dorothy dog. Her cheek so soft, I kept poking. Warm, moist breath on my arm. Her smooth pale skin matched fiery red hair perfectly. Now oil-soaked black, of course.
"Suits you too."
I stroked her messy black locks. Nice texture. Cheek. Hair. Nose... lips. Fingertip grazed her lips. Oil glistened there, not soaking in—shiny black, goth menhera vibes, Western style.
Makeup... When we hit the City... and grow up, Dorothy could doll up too.
...Maybe like someone else. Eventually leave me. Right now, it's just us... but who wouldn't love this cutie?
"Ah..."
Menhera like clingy pups. Love anyone who treats 'em nice. Tail-wag for thieves. Follow anyone petting their head.
"No."
What'd I say? No idea. Just... hand on her cheek, savoring this squish before she leaves. Ditches me.
"You're mine."
Mouth moved on its own. Felt normal. A. Teacher, snap out of it. Why? My mind sharper than ever. Could handle two cybercores easy.
I pressed my forehead to her lips, imagining this tiny life leaving. Warm breath. Squishy arms. Messy hair gone from my body.
"Never. Letting you go."
Can't make her dependent forever. That'd worsen her menhera.
"Keep loving me."
Dorothy and I? We'd be fine. Settle in the big city, live proper lives.
"Stay by my side forever."
Hide hacker-merc gigs. Two cute girls together? Eye-catching—better split.
"Or maybe die."
Not cutting ties completely. Call when I miss her, meet for drinks, check in... Lucky? She helps my game dev.
"Dorothy. Dorothy. Dorothy. Dorothy."
Then, her breathing slowed. Like waking.
"Tiara...?"
I pulled away fast. Big round eyes blinking at me.
I forced a natural smile. "Sleep well, Dorothy?"
"Uh... y-yeah! Yawwwn! Juuust woke up, whyyy?"
Her fake stretch and yawn were adorably clumsy. Blood drained from my head as I asked,
"Dorothy... did you hear everything?"
World's worst liar blushed beet red and nodded slowly.