The artificial snow continued to fall, dusting the gritty industrial walkways of the Outpost with a pristine, white blanket. It was a lie, of course—a chemically engineered miracle—but standing in the center of the newly renovated Amusement Park, Arthur Cousland didn't mind the deception. In a world defined by the rusting husks of the old civilization and the terrifying biomechanical horrors of the new, a little beautiful falsehood was a necessary balm for the soul.
Arthur adjusted the collar of his heavy winter coat, the fabric brushing against his jaw. Beside him, Rupee was a whirlwind of frantic, glittering energy. She had swapped her usual high-fashion ensemble for a custom-tailored Santa outfit that managed to be both festive and aggressively expensive. White fur trimmed red velvet that hugged her curves, and she wrestled with a gimbal stabilizer that held her phone.
"Okay, lighting check!" Rupee chirped, holding a ring light up to Arthur's face. "Commander, you look too serious! This is the Winter Wonderland Special, not a debriefing on Sector 12 logistics. Smile!"
"I am smiling," Arthur said dryly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward by a millimeter.
"That's a grimace, Sweetie. But it's a handsome grimace, so we'll take it." Rupee turned her attention to the small figure bundled up between them. "And how is Santa's little helper doing?"
Anne looked up, her silver hair hidden beneath a thick wool cap with cat ears. She clutched a heavy bag of raffle tickets to her chest like it contained nuclear codes. "I am ready, Big Sister Rupee! I have the prizes!"
Arthur felt a pang in his chest looking at her. Every morning, Anne woke up without memories of the day before. Every morning, he had to reintroduce himself, re-explain safety, and rebuild her world from scratch. But the emotions—the feelings of safety and love—lingered in her NIMPH, the neural cloud that served as a Nikke's soul. Tonight, he wanted to give her a memory so bright it might just leave a permanent burn.
"Alright, stream is going live in three, two..." Rupee tapped the screen, her persona switching instantly to the high-octane bubbly idol known to millions in the Ark. "Merry Christmas, my darling Lupins! It's your favorite shopaholic Santa, Rupee, coming to you live from the super-secret, super-exclusive Outpost Winter Festival!"
Comments flooded the screen at a speed Arthur couldn't track. Rupee handled it with the grace of a veteran combatant, blowing kisses while panning the camera around.
"Tonight, we're on a mission!" Rupee announced, pulling Arthur into the frame. "I've got the Commander of the Monarks here—say hi, Arthur!—and our adorable assistant, Anne! We're going to be granting wishes, giving away prizes, and spreading enough cheer to melt a Glacial armor plate!"
"We are looking for interview candidates," Arthur added, trying to project his voice over the festive chimes of the park speakers. "Anyone who answers a holiday question gets a prize from Rupee's personal stash."
"That's right! No cheap stuff! We're talking limited edition cosmetics, vouchers for Talentum stores, and maybe even a date with the Commander! Just kidding—he's mine!" Rupee winked at the camera, squeezing Arthur's goddesium arm.
The trio moved toward the merry-go-round, the centerpiece of the park. It was a vintage restoration, painted in gold and cream, its mechanical horses rising and falling to a calliope tune. Arthur expected to find families or off-duty Mass-Produced Nikkes enjoying the ride. Instead, he found chaos.
"Faster! Is this piece of junk stuck in first gear?" a voice roared.
Arthur stopped, blinking snow out of his eyes. On the merry-go-round platform, ignoring the painted horses entirely, was Sugar. The stoic, coffee-obsessed mercenary had driven her motorcycle, the Black Typhoon, directly onto the rotating platform. She was revving her engine, the back tire spinning against the wooden floorboards, trying to outpace the rotation of the ride itself.
"Sugar," Arthur called out, his voice amplifed by his command authority. "You cannot race the carousel. You are on the carousel."
Sugar didn't look back, her sunglasses reflecting the fairy lights. "It's about dominance, Partner. If I hit 8000 RPM, I can make the rotation speed increase by friction alone."
"She's... passionate," Rupee told the stream, laughing nervously. "But maybe not the best interview candidate right now. Oh! Look over there!"
Rupee pointed the camera at a blur of motion. Milk, the martial artist of Café Sweety, was sprinting alongside the merry-go-round, shadow-boxing the air and occasionally throwing a high kick at the empty chariots as they spun past.
"Training never stops!" Milk yelled, sweat steaming off her skin despite the freezing temperature. "If you can dodge a carousel horse, you can dodge a Rapture!"
"And Frima?" Arthur asked, scanning the area for the third member of the squad.
Anne tugged on his coat. "Teacher, the horse is sleeping."
Arthur looked where she pointed. In one of the ornate carriages, curled up under a pile of blankets she must have brought herself, was Frima. She was fast asleep, a snot bubble expanding and contracting rhythmically with her breathing.
"Well," Rupee said, turning the camera back to her face. "Café Sweety is certainly... spirited! But since Sugar is breaking physics, Milk is fighting furniture, and Frima is in sleep mode, we need a different guest."
They wandered through the crowd. Belorta and Mica waved from atop a pair of horses, but they were too busy throwing handfuls of artificial snow at each other to stop for questions. The atmosphere was joyous, chaotic, and loud—everything the Ark wasn't. But as they searched, Arthur noticed a lull in the candidates. Most of the Nikkes were shy around the camera, aware that their existence was controversial back in the city.
"We're losing momentum," Rupee whispered to Arthur, covering the microphone. "The viewer count is dipping. I need a hook."
Arthur looked down at Anne. She was watching the lights with wide, wonder-filled eyes, clutching her bag of tickets. She was the heart of this place. If anyone deserved the spotlight, it was her.
"Why not start with our assistant?" Arthur suggested. "Show the viewers who we're doing this for."
Rupee's eyes lit up. "Genius! Anne, sweetie, are you ready for your close-up?"
Anne stood up straighter, adjusting her cat-ear hoodie. "Yes! I am ready to be interviewed."
Rupee lowered the gimbal so Anne filled the frame. "Okay, everyone! This is Anne, the sweetest girl in the Outpost. Anne, reach into the Santa Sack and pull out a question!"
Rupee held out a red velvet bag. Anne stuck her small hand inside, rummaging around with intense concentration. She pulled out a slip of paper, unfolded it, and handed it to Rupee.
Rupee cleared her throat, her smile bright. "Alright! The question is..." She paused, her smile faltering for a fraction of a second. She glanced at Arthur, a flicker of panic in her golden eyes. "The question is: 'What is your favorite memory from last Christmas?'"
The air around them seemed to drop a few degrees. Arthur stiffened. It was an innocent question for anyone else. For Anne, it was a cruel reminder of her reality. Anne didn't have a last Christmas. She didn't have yesterday. Her memory was wiped daily. Any memory she couldn't access was a black hole she couldn't explain.
Arthur stepped forward, his hand raising to intervene. "Rupee, maybe we should draw a—"
But Anne was already speaking. She didn't look sad. She didn't look confused. She looked up at the camera with a serene, practiced innocence.
"I slept all day," Anne said softly.
Arthur froze.
"Sometimes," Anne continued, reciting the explanation she had been taught to cover the gaps in her mind, "when I can't remember things, it's because I was very tired. So last Christmas, I must have been sleeping. It was a good nap."
Silence hung over the group for a heartbeat. Arthur felt a crack in his heart. It was a lie she told herself to survive, a lie he had helped construct to protect her from the horror of her amnesia.
Rupee, consummate professional that she was, didn't let the sadness break the stream. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but her smile returned, softer this time. "A good nap is the best gift of all, isn't it? Well, that is a perfectly valid answer! And you know what that means?"
"Prize time?" Anne asked, tilting her head.
"Prize time!" Rupee cheered, though her voice was thick. "Pick a ticket from the Gold Bag, Anne."
Anne reached into the second bag, the one reserved for the highest-tier rewards. She pulled out a golden ticket that shimmered under the park lights. Rupee gasped, genuine shock replacing her performance.
"No way!" Rupee squealed. "Lupins, look at this! She pulled the Ultra Rare! The 'One Wish Pass'!"
"One wish?" Anne looked at the ticket, tracing the embossed lettering.
"Anything you want, sweetie," Rupee said, kneeling in the snow so she was eye-level with the girl. "I can buy you the biggest toy store in the Ark. I can get you a dress made of diamonds. I can get you a lifetime supply of croquettes. Just name it."
Arthur watched Anne. He wondered if she would ask for her memory back. It was the one thing Rupee's credits couldn't buy. The Harmony Cube he had found was drained; the technology to fix her was still out of reach.
Anne looked at the merry-go-round, where Sugar was still revving her engine and Milk was laughing. She looked at Arthur, her eyes warm and trusting. She looked at the camera, addressing the thousands of invisible strangers.
"I wish," Anne said, her voice small but steady, "for everyone to be happy. Not just me. Everyone at the Outpost. I want them all to smile like Teacher smiles when he looks at Big Sister Rupee."
Arthur covered his mouth with his hand, looking away to hide the sudden burn in his eyes. Rupee blinked rapidly, a tear finally escaping and tracking through her flawless makeup. Even the stream chat, usually a cesspool of chaos, seemed to slow down, filled with crying emojis and hearts.
"Everyone?" Rupee asked, her voice trembling.
"Yes," Anne nodded. "Can you buy happiness, Big Sister?"
Rupee stood up, wiping her cheek. She looked at Arthur. A fierce determination replaced the glitz. She wasn't just a streamer now; she was a member of Talentum, a business tycoon who solved problems with overwhelming resources.
"Arthur," Rupee said, her tone business-like. "We have a logistical challenge."
"We do," Arthur agreed, composing himself. "Happiness isn't a commodity."
"Wrong," Rupee corrected, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Chemical happiness is. And I have four crates of 'Premium Tetra-Line Festive Eggnog' sitting in the warehouse. It's got a bio-active mood enhancer—legal, mostly—that boosts serotonin levels by 200% for three hours."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "You want to drug the Outpost?"
"I want to *enhance the festive spirit*," Rupee corrected. "We spike the drink supply. All of it. The cider, the cocoa, the water fountains if we have to. We turn this entire cavern into the happiest place on or under the Earth."
Arthur looked at Anne, who was waiting expectantly. "And the wish?"
"Anne," Arthur said, kneeling down. "We're going to grant your wish. But we need your help. We're going to be the Agents of Joy tonight. We need to deliver the... special ingredients to every stall in the park."
"A mission?" Anne's eyes sparkled.
"A mission," Arthur confirmed. "Operation: Silent Night."
Rupee clapped her hands. "And I'm going to record every second of it. We're going to make a VOD—a video diary—just for you, Anne. So tomorrow morning, when you wake up, you can watch it and see exactly how many smiles you bought."
Anne hugged the ticket to her chest. "I will remember?"
Arthur placed his hand on her head, his goddesium fingers gentle against the wool of her hat. "We'll make sure you do. We'll keep the memory safe for you."
"Okay!" Anne cheered. "Let's go! Sugar looks like she needs some eggnog!"
Arthur stood, looking at Rupee. "You realize Andersen is going to have my head if the entire garrison is hungover tomorrow?"
Rupee checked her nails, unbothered. "Let him complain. I'll send him a crate too. Now, grab a box, Commander. Santa has a schedule to keep."
They moved out, a strange little family unit against the dark. Rupee led the way with her camera, narrating their heist on misery. Anne marched in the middle, carrying a bag of festive cups. And Arthur brought up the rear, hauling a crate of high-grade mood-enhancing eggnog, watching the two of them under the artificial snowfall. The cold bit at his face, but as he watched Anne laugh at Rupee's antics, the warmth in his chest flared, defiant and bright.
The night was young, and they had a whole Outpost to intoxicate with joy.