The Clock Pendulum Swings | A Mesmerizer Story

𖦹°‧ | DAY ONE.

CROSS-POSTED TO AO3 AND FFN. 
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This is the first day. Everything's fine.

Or so it seems, it's not like I know much anymore.

The sun shone brightly over our heads as the clouds — perpetually, and always present they were — complimenting its warm rays. It did always seem to make me feel more alive, that was for sure, but I could never shake the feeling that something was wrong. It made me sick sometimes. I would just have to shake it off. Admittedly, the only break or relief I had from this constant meaningless life was her.

With those familiarly long turquoise ponytails and her soft, cheerful smile that never failed to compliment her shimmering blue eyes, she did make life matter to me.

I couldn't be any more grateful for Miku.

At the very moment was she humming to herself, playing with the hem of her fluffy pinstriped dress as she journaled in a book, but only God knows what she wrote about. I never dared to ask — it felt too awkward and personal. As long as it kept her happy, however, I had nothing to say against it. Our joy was all that we had.

For me? It was the usual: zoned out in thought, avoiding questioning anything for the sake of my soul. Waiting to get the next cycle over with and to hope that neither me or Miku fall victim to it. I always worried that she would, she was too sweet and happy to the point of naivety that left her mind open like a backdoor, truthfully said. If she fell, Lord, I'd never know what to do with myself anymore.

This is the cycle me and Miku live in as if we were robots — designed to not feel, designed to do our orders.

Miku brought herself closer to me, supporting her body against my shoulder. Her flowing hair tickled my cheek a bit as I felt her warmth bring me a sense of comfort. It wasn't uncommon for Miku to be physically affectionate, no, I just never knew when to expect it, and it always took me off guard.

I could get a better view of what she was writing about, however, and out of my typical curiosity, I chose to look. Turns out, it really was just a simple journal. Miku wrote about her shift yesterday, though with her hectic and scrambled kanji that not even I could understand, but I couldn't imagine it being any different than the many days before then. It was pitiful indeed, but we had no choice in the matter. It was just "live and hope to remember how you got here".

I wondered when our next shift would be. I wasn't looking forward to it, no sane person would, as after all, what fun was there in serving life-sized fake wooden mannequins that didn't move, didn't speak equally fake food? It was some constant diner "stage play" set up by IT. That's what I've grown to call that entity, at least. I didn't like to think about it too much.

Miku stirred in her position slightly to get more comfortable, resting her elbow on my thigh. The creases it created in my pinkish-red overalls reflected a deep, uncanny purple. Not even the shadows here were realistic. It was eerie how everything contrasted against the realism that Miku bore, my only remaining reminder of what it meant to be a living human, not some doll.

She remained humming gently, like a soft caress to my thoughts to hush their tears, and was it such a piquing melody, ever so intriguing, so familiar, but so distant. It would be no surprise to me if she'd grown to struggle with music, having not heard it in forever or so, since the scale was considerably erratic. That I could notice.

"What are you humming?" I say.

"Oh, nothing," Miku laughs, not breaking the process of her writing, "I made it up yesterday. I'm not very sure what I'll call it, but I like to think that it fits the vibe of our life!"

That explains a lot.

"Glad to still see you in the swing of things. If you make lyrics for it, maybe we can sing it together. You know, like the old times." I smile, my voice significantly brighter now.