Ramblings of a madwoman

She was contaminated. A bug was flowing through her system trying to disable her, make her slow, make her forget things, make her useless.

But she knew she was safe; knew she’d be okay because she had this Toshiko. Toshiko thought like her, understood her, cared for her.

She hummed happily. Toshiko was talking to her in a quiet soothing tone as she worked. Toshiko had told her once, late at night, softly like she was sharing a secret, that she found her electric sounds comforting.

So she sang to her now. A simple serenade of trust and binary affection.