can't credit you for this

  They were just watching anime, right? Unimportant event. No point putting it in the annals.

  Not that Nina had an annals, obviously. Those were for the lives of institutions: cities, companies, Houses. Those who let biographies be written about them were those who assented to being overwritten.

  Huh, but Nina was an overwritable girl? Nothing about her was real, not until she won.

  And nothing here was real, since it was just an anime.

  But it had become real, in some sense. That was silly to say, wasn't it? Nina should explain.

  Nina knew far more than she had wanted to about the Mamert series. It was quite an old series, so a lot of supplementary material was buried in the Shin Kumamoto archives, a rivulet-reservoir of potable information, not made murky by the brackish water of the abyss. The archives kept them in line with consensus reality. The first settlers of the Acacia came from the modern world; they had lost the survival knowledge of their ancestors, and needed a refresher and good guides. It wasn't such a good idea to attempt to reinvent the wheel in the Acacia, also.

  The Mamert series had its first entry, Mechanical Stalwart Mamert, in 1971. Its name was a portmanteau of Mamertes, a Grecian epithet for Mars, and mammet, a Latinate epithet for Muhammad. Its director, Minoru Tohno (Western name order), had a lisp, or so people had said, and he had ended up saying marumeto instead of mameruto, and had also spelt it Marmet, so 'Marmet' had stuck around as a wrong, hr?n, spelling. It wasn't very dangerous to make mistakes like that, back then.

  Mamert was about young pilots of 'mecha', armoured fighting vehicles in the shapes of men. Idolatry had not yet openly attained the power it would in 1997, but humans still sought to anthropomorphise the world about them. Humanity was afflicted with pareidolia, and, Nina repeated herself, there was no grave punishment for this folly in that era. These young pilot protagonists would find themselves embroiled in a world war, suffering shell-shock. There was a less realistic genre of mecha anime that was often brighter in tone. The young pilots kept their youthful brightness; they faced the alien enemy, instead of warring against their countrymen.

  There used to be two different names for these genres in the twentieth century, 'real' and 'super.' The Babylon War made combat against the outside enemy an integral aspect of real life experience, and international war coterminous with supernatural war, so this distinction was dropped in the twenty-first century. That was a little obvious, wasn't it? It was also obvious that the Babylon War had made magic real. Nina shouldn't gawk and say, oh, Mamert predicted everything!

  No, Mamert hadn't predicted anything. There had been interest in space colonisation (no comment!) since before the hegemonic powers had breached the aether and thrust their most talented into vertigo, so it wasn't at all interesting that there were human cities beginning to coalesce at the Lagrange points. Mamert was neither the first nor the last show to discuss a scenario in which wide swathes of the human population developed preternatural intuition and extrasensory perception—the power to see clearly, the power to advance towards the future, as the early Mamert shows presented it. If Nina, a young girl, was a forebearer of this power that the older generations lacked, then she should shut up about it, she shouldn't brag or be egotistical, or annoy April.

  Shut up. Pay attention. Don't fall asleep while watching it with April. That was really rude? What the fuck, March? March should get over herself. Stop talking about being dizzy. Because of the show? Because March was being watched? Because March was still reeling? March recovered so quickly, though... shut up, and watch it, and let her watch you, and...

  Disorienting, really really disorienting. Her head span and heart beat erratic while watching this sure but then there was the fact that April was listening to her, was noting down what she said, always, had more faith in her ideas and predictions and guesses than she did and still always inevitably dismissed her and said they were shit and she should shut up and she was stupid so stupid so stupid because Nina knew, everyone knew, that Nina could not be allowed to be a truthseeker, that Nina defiled everything that was real. April's impulse oscillated: listen, deny, shut her up, gag her up, read her mind if she won't tell you her thoughts, make her spill more and more, no consistency, so embarrassing, it was so embarrassing—

  Nina curled up into herself. She tried not to look like she wasn't watching. Who knew what Aine would do if she wasn't paying attention?

  And April at least had the decency to pause the show if she had something so necessary for Nina to listen to. Aine didn't really seem to care that the others hadn't watched the show? She'd say "This shot is from Mamert Zauberer," the second Mamert show, released in 1977, or she'd giggle out loud about something going to happen in the future, only obvious on second watch, it had only been five minutes, and five minutes in Aine said "I forgot how slow this show can be."

  "That's better than the one cour seasons," Nina replied.

  "What's a cour?" Sophia said.

  "A block of thirteen episodes, representing a season!" Aine said. Nina took the remote from Aine's hands so softly, and paused the show. An act of bravery, maybe? No, not for normal people, and for Nina it was just cowardice. It'd be scarier if everyone else got mad that the show was interrupted.

  Emi nodded. She was into film, wasn't she? She knew that.

  "Yes... between the turn of the century and the early twenties, the economic pressures caused by Japanese rearmament and the Compulsory Corporate Consolidation led to anime studios becoming particularly risk averse, especially given the 'live' nature of fictional depiction after 1997. They increasingly came to prefer anime that fit in thirteen episode blocks."

  "Oh, I see," Sophia said.

  "The Mamert fanbase," which was to say April Kauzaki, "didn't like this. Mamert used its length to its advantage, portraying lots of little engagements, the procedures of a long war."

  Wait, wait, she probably shouldn't annoy Aine?

  "Oh, but I worry that the later seasons aren't as concise as they could be. They meander because the fans expect the series to be long, not to make a point or because their plot necessitates it."

  Nina looked over at Aine.

  She felt pantyhose rub against her skin. Aine had locked legs with her. What did that mean? Had Nina answered correctly? Was she failing?

  "You're so right for that. Um, wait, but we should let everyone judge it for themselves."

  Said the girl who just had to blurt her opinions! How many seconds of silence did they all get, each time? Nina shouldn't think for herself. She should let Aine preempt her thoughts, always...

  Aine hit play.

  Nina didn't really understand watching Mamert Leda first, before a few other entries. It took place in its own world, but as Aine had already pointed out, there were lots of little references to the prior entries that added up. Leda was meant to work on its own, but April had felt that three-quarters of the meaning were in those references; the team had failed to make a standalone. Nina wasn't all there watching the show, and wouldn't challenge her, anyway.

  Here was the context Nina wished she could tell the girls who needed it: the original Mamert quadrology (Mamert 71, Zauberer, Zerfall-Zersetzung, Closed Circuit Avenger) focused on a supermassive world war between Earth, united, and the Samson-Shomron Organisation, which ruled its colonies. Originally led by Ernesto Samson, who seized control of the Patagonia colony in a bloodless revolution, the Mendiluce family—the Lielight family in the Marmet dub, but let's stick with Mendiluce—struck him down sub rosa, his name and history becoming an idol of their imperial power.

  Don't give Nina weird looks? Have you heard this tale before? Probably, right? 'Things like that happened to all revolutions,' and aphorisms like that? Tohno seemed a little anxious about the inspiration he took from other places; in the production document for Zauberer, he said that the provenance of the names he had chosen for the separatists should never ever be mentioned explicitly. Nina didn't get why someone so famous and beloved would be so bashful about that. April had called her stupid, and then declined to say what she had missed... but screenplays were made out of screenplays, as books were made out of books! So why the shame? Nina didn't like it, but that was just because she was Nina...

  It was annoying! Or maybe Nina was annoyed that it felt like everything was on pause to watch this stupid show?

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  To use another fictional example, there was this trend Michiko liked to complain about in the latest amateur novels she found on intranets made for that kind of thing. Seeking to fill the space, and knowing that their audience would love them for it, the entire action of the story would just stop, and the author would regress to talking about their latest fancy. Their voice and the voice of their characters would blur, though Michiko always said that they were hardly separate anyway. It really pissed her off, unduly. Michiko had quite the temper, haha... not the worst Nina had seen. It wasn't directed at anyone, let alone Nina, so it was probably okay? She'd rant to them: 'These so-called authors should just shut up, they should lock in, they should write more seriously, act all serious 'cause I can't bear to talk to them, isn't writing serious!'

  Michiko was right about that, but she argued in a way that made it seem like stopping to focus on a secondary narrative was a bad thing. Nina didn't agree with that.

  She agreed with the fact that writing was serious. The Babylon War had turned this world into a tapestry. Did you understand narrative and embedded narrative? You better. That was a threat! It was a really severe threat. Those who gained power in this world—the civil servants of cities, the heads of corporation, the Nobility—they all found themselves so good at naturally finding, interpreting and reinterpreting the shattered shards of stories. Nina shouldn't fault anyone for stopping to tell another story. Honestly! Michiko was allowed to get angry about that. April was allowed to get angry about anything. Nina should temper herself. Nina, not nice, should find nice things to say about everything.

  Stopping to embed narratives allowed the author to add meaning to the main narrative. It revealed trends and created interplay. The interpretation of narratives was the exact method supernatural and preternatural power were unleashed unto the world, according to the standard line of history. Should we not be grateful for embedded narratives? Nina should be grateful that Aine was offering her reprieve from disaster day one. If this anime actually did enter the Haze House annals once Kaninchen won for the first time ever in her lackluster life, it was an embedded narrative, see. Actually, since Leda relied on allusions to the original Mamert (April's interpretation), it was yet another example of the post-Babylon trend of interlocking narratives! Much less amateurish than Michiko's example, but, but, but...

  Nina suddenly remembered that the first episode was five minutes longer than the rest of them. Aine was definitely the type of girl who would rope you into binge-watching...

  She tried not to groan. Aine pat her shoulder?

  Maybe she was letting April override what she saw? There were things here for everyone else, apart from the vertigo Nina felt so consistently.

  The first episode had lots of plain events. The main character, Marit—Emi pointed out that this was short for Margaret—is offered a job as the bodyguard for Eline, a heiress for a weapons corporation. To do this, Marit is allowed to attend the Caecesie military academy. (April thought that 'Caecesie' was a gross name.) After meeting Eline and going to class with her, Marit is then mildly bothered by the male heirs of companies lesser than Eline's. Aine, Aria, Emi, Haio and Sophia were all in agreement that the way that they treated her qualified as bullying, but it seemed mild to the point of being better than the average school experience, so Nina tried not to say anything. Marzena seemed confused, too, but she also didn't say anything.

  Mercenaries then aggrieve Eline's transit vehicle. Piloting the XJN-02 Mamert Thersitical, Marit destroys them so easily. (April thought that Thersitical was a stupid name.) Eline, initially annoyed that her father wants her to be chaperoned, warms up to Marit. Marit is her guard. Marit is hers. Wait, was anyone able to say that so publicly in 2067? Girls loving girls? Girls owning girls? Stop it with your questions. Roll credits.

  At least, that was the surface level. All of the allusions... leave that to April. Even if Nina was singularly focused on watching the show, even if she did not fear it, the memory of being chided would interdict her attempts.

  Perhaps Nina should get over herself. She would have to do narrative interpretation as part of her job. This was a safe and meaningless space to do so in.

  "This show is quite different on rewatch," Haio said to Emi.

  "It is!" Aine said.

  Was it? Maybe Nina noticed more things on the first watch due to being familiar with the convoluted web of allusions, though.

  "I'll take your word for it," Emi said.

  "When, when we win... you're a heiress, right, Emi?" Haio said.

  "Uh... it's... basically!"

  "Maybe we should cosplay Marit and Eline?" Haio proposed.

  "Nina is more Marit coded?" Emi said.

  What? Nina shook her head.

  "But you kind of... sorry..." Emi said to Nina.

  "It's okay," Nina said.

  "She's literally right," Aine said. "Talented, willing to do anything for the people you care about..."

  Stop it.

  "I'm not very good at cosplay, anyway," Haio said. Her voice became a little plain.

  "I'm really good at dressing up. I have friends that do cosplay, too. I could totally teach you," Aria said.

  "It's fine," Haio said.

  "We also have the group cosplay expert..." Aria said.

  "Beauregard," Marzena said.

  "I'm complimenting you?" Aria said.

  Sure.

  Nina looked at the credits. There were many more writers than there had been in older anime. Leda was produced by committee. People had gotten so much better at collaborative writing; the skill had some overlap with psychic mingling. It was irresponsible to put out anyone unique as the face of the project, and have them become a lighting rod for the illicit forces that wished to reverse-transcribe themselves into human reality.

  Names that did not belong to citizens of a Japanese city were written in their native writing script. Imagine a girl with a Kurdish name: she would write her name in katakana if she were from Osaka, in romaji if she were from Hasakah, and in arabimoji if she were from Halabja. Most credited writers were citizens of a Japanese city. There were a few names in romaji.

  Among them: Kornelia of the Young Lord's Army.

  RNGOD had said she were a playwright and a director, hadn't he? That was literally true? She wrote screenplays? Kornelia was to blame for all the problems April had with the Mamert Leda script? April had called it meaningless on its surface, convoluted to those initiated into the Mamert mystery cult, perverted in a way that only appealed to boys with girlfriends and girls with boyfriends despite nominally being about a relationship between two young women—all of those issues were in part Kornelia's fault?

  Maybe Nina should blame Kornelia for when April got mad at her for not paying attention. Maybe Nina should blame Kornelia for whenever April told her not to contradict her, every poke or lash of light or arm-twist or use of expurgating magic to keep her awake and aware and with her and listening.

  Hah, hah, just kidding. April did that for everything ever... it wasn't Kornelia's fault, not really, even if her current dilemma was.

  Could she ever point this out? Did she want to? The only person on this bus that she had spoken to about Kornelia was Kaninchen, who liked to talk to Nina much more than Nina liked to talk with her.

  Nina would shut up.

  This was kind of scary, though? Kornelia appearing at the bottom of everything, like those Babylon-era billionaires boundless who were made responsible by the public for every sin ever. The show was scary enough as is, too!

  Nina tried to look blank. She just couldn't be bothered to explain Kornelia to Aine and Emi. That wasn't a strategically sound choice, wasn't it? It was emotionally safe, though. Kornelia seemed to be someone who relished people knowing about her. There was a power gained when the public believed that you could do anything, saw everything as conspiracy and you at the head of it all. She seemed to be the type of person who relished it.

  She was duping herself! The next time she ran into a Kornelia coincidence, she was going to end up hitting herself with a rake.

  "The Melody Demesne writers are affiliated with the Second City, right?" Aria said.

  "Yeah," Sophia said.

  "They're pretty good. I recognise some of them off Aozora no MUSIC. Anny, rewind," Aria said.

  Aine did.

  "Yeah, the lady with the weird surname," Aria said, "She directed quite a few of the episodes."

  "Weird surname?" Emi said.

  "It's normal for women to be called that," Marzena said.

  "Yeah, Leuce can back me up," Aria said. She looked towards the back. Leuce was quite a distance away. "I liked her episodes a lot. So did Leuce!"

  "Which surname," Emi said.

  "Young Lord's Army?" Aine said.

  "Yeah, her! She was on the Aozora no MUSIC team," Aria said.

  Ahaha—was she just famous? What the hell? Should Nina start watching anime for hidden messages? Plays? Movies? Did Kornelia write books? Was RNGOD going to release the Reiphontes recommendation list when he came back in a week?

  "What's Aozora no MUSIC?" Emi asked.

  "It's a band anime. It's a remake of another one, from thirty years ago. It's really good," Aria said.

  "Oh. Maybe we should watch it?" Emi said.

  "Are we not gonna watch another episode?" Aine asked.

  "Not right away. We haven't even had discussion time," Sophia said.

  "That's so true! And so important!" Aine said.

  It wasn't important. Maybe it was if you had good, worthwhile thoughts, or if you were charismatic, or cool, or funny. Nina only ever seemed to lower the quality of conversations.

  "Wait, wait, let me find a fan forum, see how they reacted live, with no spoilers. It'll make the discussion more fun," Sophia said.

  "Do we need to?" Aria said.

  "She takes these things seriously," Aine said.

  "She takes everything seriously," Aria said.

  "Your rant last night was so serious," Aine said.

  "So serious with each other, last night..." Marzena said.

  "Hey, shut up!" Aria said.

  "Um, you mean—shut up Cecily?" Marzena said.

  "I mean shut up, Marzi," Aria said.

  "True, true," Marzena said. She kicked Aria's seat, a little.

  Nina waited, patiently.

  Yeah. The discussion would be fun. She wouldn't taint it with her n-th abnormal issue. The enemy in her head, and in this intranet, and on the black web. If everyone heard about the Kornelia issue, Judecca would use it against her—without a doubt! If she kept it to Aine's group, who knew what they'd do with the terminal?

  She couldn't enjoy anything normally. So psychically sensitive she saw what surely wasn't there.

  Was there a secret protocol? Some way to start to figure out what was happening here, what Kornelia was? Ask Kaninchen? No way. But... Nina definitely wasn't smart enough to decode everyone's enigmas on her own.

  Those girls unable to think for themselves did not deserve to be sovereign over themselves.

  Why worry? This should be unimportant. It was just an anime?

  Who was she kidding? Anime, anima, those who did not put their soul into their opera died by the roadside: that was a change in the post-Babylon era at least as important as preternatural power.

  "Hey, Nina," Aine said.

  "Y-yes?"

  "You're super good at not talking about spoilers, and you say interesting things. Don't forget to share your input."

  "We want to hear it..." Emi added. Haio looked at something map-shaped on her phone beside her.

  "I'll try," Nina said.

  "Yeah, you better!" Aine said.

  According to the secret protocol: Kornelia at the left ventricle, Aine at the right atrium, pull her apart!