No, no, I’m not your mother! I’m just her former accessory. Or more precisely, her mental projection. Please don’t project her traits onto me—I’ll get nervous.
—Fiiiine…—Yuki sighed. —So what’s your name, then?
The Glasses straightened on their arms and announced to the chamber:
—I have none! My bearer never granted me an egregor—or, in simpler terms, a Personality! Alas!
—That’s a shame… We’ll think of one,—Yuki promised.
—No matter. I’m used to it,—the Glasses said with mock tragedy. A single tear rolled down their lens, dropped to the floor, then zipped away to the wall where it splattered with a dramatic -plop. —But I do know where we are. This is the brain’s foyer, the preparation room, before diving into the subject’s subconscious. Are you ready for the tour?
—Uh-huh!—the kids nodded furiously.
—Then let the Heroic Act commence!—the Glasses declared. The curtains ripped away—
—and the trio suddenly stood in a back alley. Cracked graffiti walls, trash bins, and—bizarrely—the Eiffel Tower looming overhead. Droplets that looked suspiciously like the Glasses’ earlier tear hopped merrily up and down the tower, giggling in high-pitched voices. Apparently that tear had arrived first, had kids, and now they were having the time of their lives.
From a perfectly ordinary sky, the sun shone down like a stage spotlight, focused on a single place: a basketball court at the tower’s base.
—I’m guessing that’s where we’re supposed to go,—Lil C. said.
—Wow, genius deduction, brother,—Yuki clapped mockingly. This was her revenge for the sweatshirt he’d printed with her photo—tongue out, goofy face. He swore it was out of love, but Yuki was convinced he wore it just to drive her crazy.
And waiting for them by the court entrance was… a giant cupcake. Or maybe a pastry.
—No, that’s a Muffin!—Lil C. declared with the authority of someone who’d eaten his fair share.
—And look at those fabulous cowboy boots with spurs—and that wool cap with the visor,—Yuki added.
—Old school! Just like the one Dad used to wear back when he was obsessed with Linkin Park. Only… the boots don’t really match…
Yuki shot him a suspicious look.
—Since when are you our fashion critic? Personally, I like them.
—I think our very entertaining stranger is trying to say something. Speak, mysterious one!—the Glasses announced with ceremony as they approached the huffing Muffin. He scratched his neatly trimmed goatee and smacked his plump lips before asking:
—Was it you who emailed me?
—Uh… no.
He shook his head in shock.
—Well then, I’ll be on my way. Farewell. I was looking for some Yuki and Lil C.
Clinking his metal spurs, he turned to leave, but the kids shouted after him:
—Wait! That’s us!
Instantly, he spun around with a grin.
—Oh! Tiny tots, it’s you, huh?
He leaned in close, staring so hard he had to wipe away a drip of drool.
—You’re Lil C.,—he pointed with a brawny hand made of crumb-muscles. —Yo.
—Uh… yo. —The boy stammered.
—Your new album drop yet?
—Nope, haven’t even started it,—Lil C. scratched his head.
—Well, let me know, I’ll preorder for sure,—the Sweetest Giant in the World promised. —And you must be Yuki. But you didn’t summon me—he did.
—Wait, what?!—Lil C. blurted.
The Glasses intervened:
—Simple, my pupils. He is the form that Lil C.’s subconscious created. Just as Yuki birthed me, this delicious pastry is now his mascot.
—Awesome!—Lil C. jumped and high-fived his new friend.
—Yeah! But hold up—who are you? You look like the Glasses Mom used to wear. Are you their mom?—the Muffin asked.
—I am her thing, not her self,—the Glasses corrected. —I wasn’t given her personality or name. Sadly, I was never named at all…
She sighed, but the always-grinning Muffin chimed in:
—I got it! You’re not just a thing—you’re Mami.
—The dumbest nickname ever! Nonsense!—the Glasses huffed. But Yuki and Lil C. immediately started calling her that too. And that was it. The name stuck, like a stubborn sticker you can never peel off.
So, introductions done, they sealed their eternal friendship with solemn vows—which they promptly forgot two seconds later. Together they faced the basketball court behind the chain-link fence. Empty.
—We supposed to go in there?—Yuki asked.
—How should I know? I just stand here,—the Muffin—now officially Pom-Pom—shrugged.
—Then let’s go.
They pushed through the creaky gate and stepped inside together.
Something changed? Oh yeah. Transformations are the heart of any good adventure!
The moment they entered (or hoverboarded, in one case), the spiky chain-link shimmered into laser beams, glowing and crackling. A heartbeat later, the lasers vanished and turned into strings hung with fragrant flower blossoms, making the place look like a wedding reception. But not for long.
The beams reappeared, burned the flowers, vanished again—over and over in an endless loop.
—Sweet! It’s both a laser show and a flower shop in one!—Lil C. cheered.
—Pretty flowers,—Pom-Pom agreed, reaching for a carnation. —This one’s for our Mami.
—Look out! The beams!—The kids shrieked.
—Ow!—he yelped as his crumb-hand got lightly toasted. He sniffed it. —Nope. Not a fan of overbaked pastry.
—Ahem,—Mami tried to steer the subject back. —Maybe we should focus on what’s actually happening here.
And there was plenty to see.
The court hadn’t grown wider, but the hoops had stretched sky-high, towering dozens of Yukis and Pom-Poms stacked on each other’s shoulders. Guarding them stood a team—figures dressed in who-knows-what, looking rough and half-finished, their features jagged and glitchy.
—What happened to the graphics?—Lil C. gasped. —What year did they render these models? And why are they so jerky?
The players really did stutter along, freezing mid-motion, then twitching forward again, waving their cricket bats around instead of basketballs.
—They’re lagging,—Pom-Pom explained, and waddled toward them in the same glitchy fashion. —We come in peace, bat-on-legs people.
—Stand up and pull yourselves together!—Mami suddenly barked, her eyes fluttering angrily. —Show us who’s in charge here!
The glitchy game-characters froze, then pointed their fingerless hands toward a huge office desk shoved in the corner of the court.
ns216.73.216.10da2

