Emily wakes up in the trailer where Cid wanted to take the Erebus-model Eudaemon before they realized she had Glitched.

    In a swirl of nanomachines, the orange box transforms into Emily's default form, an auburn-haired woman in her thirties with robotic-looking eyes, wearing the same midnight blue business dress she had before. She blinks a few times, looking around.

    Helios-model CAL3 looks up from where he's working on the Erebus-model's CPU core, his hands transformed into spindly little tools. "Morning, MLE0," he says awkwardly.

    "Mornin', dude," Emily says blearily. She wipes her hands on her shirt as if she hadn't literally just created both hands and shirt, and stretches even though she technically doesn't have muscles. "Any word from 2B or Nines?"

    Cal looks nonplussed. "... No," he says. "You haven't been out for that long."

    "Fair enough," says Emily. She peers at the CPU core "... Any idea who that was, or what made her Glitch?"

    "Only her serial number," says Cal. "Erebus-model, AA23-B982J113ZMM9." He rattles off the full sequence as if just relaying someone's name. He frowns down at the CPU core. "... I'm getting some weird errors in her magic/software interface at the moment, but I think she is repairable, if we can get her nanomachines back together."

    Neither of them feels the need to say what they both think is obvious: they do not want any Eudaemons to die, even if it was a Glitch who'd just attacked them. They have no way of building more Eudaemons, after all. Ever since the world became a halcyon remnant, the population has only ever gone down.

    Emily shrugs. "Great," she says noncommittally, transforming into a four-armed lavender-skinned devil in a pink crop top and red booty shorts. "I'll check the broken nano-reclamation units I took to Van Patisserie, in case AA23 needs a transfusion." She steps out, leaving the door open and letting the crisp autumn air into the trailer.

    Cal pauses. "Why do we call transferring nanomachines to a Eudaemon 'transfusion', anyway?" he says to the empty room. "It's not even like nanomachines are a direct analogue to 'blood', anyway."