We struggled to get our bearings after our heads popped out of the vent shaft like prairie dogs in the night. A flutter of several lights off to the side caught our attention; the humming, hissing, and whirring noises told us these were maintenance bots, seeing to some damage on the roof, perhaps from a recent windstorm. We saw a hunched-over form flopped over on the roof—Acrylic.

A buzzing sound started, and Fetus yelped in pain, wringing her hands. My eyes dissolved into a fluorescent blizzard of static, but I heard bits of metal embracing an electric supermagnet. It lasted only a few seconds before the current apparently stopped, the debris clattering into some bin or something, and the machines departed.

I shot a glance at Fetus. Her fingers were red and she was panting hard, but she seemed okay otherwise. She nodded, and I bounded over to Acrylic. He moaned, sat up, and cradled his head in his hands. He saw me.

“What’s…what’s happening?” he asked. “What am I doing here? Who am…who am I? Who are you?”

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