[AMY IN DISPATCH (2025)] CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Council of Amys were in pajamas.
This was not a metaphor or a symbolic representation of their psychological vulnerability. They were quite literally wearing pajamas.
Evil Amy still held the gavel, though she had traded her usual villain-chic ensemble for a set of black silk sleepwear patterned with tiny skulls. However, the fake mustache remained firmly in place, because standards mattered.
Crazy Amy had wrapped herself into a blanket burrito so thoroughly that only her head remained visible, while Pure Amy wore soft pastel pajamas decorated with small flowers.
Smart Amy had somehow acquired plaid sleep pants and a cardigan, which she wore with the same composed seriousness she brought to everything else. The fact that she had managed to locate such clothing inside the mindscape was not questioned by anyone present, largely because questioning it felt like it would lead to a longer explanation.
And lastly, Amy Prime wore an oversized t-shirt that read: I SURVIVED GOLD MORNING AND ALL I GOT WAS TRAUMA.
At the center of the Council chamber, which was currently rearranged to resemble a chaotic sleepover lounge full of pillows and blankets, Shaper hovered not-so-quietly. Someone had clipped a small nightlight onto the projection of its core structure, and the bulb cast a soft, comforting blue glow over the room.
No one remembered installing the nightlight, but they had immediately accepted its presence.
Amy Prime flopped backward into a pile of pillows with a dramatic sigh, staring up at the ceiling of the mindscape as she spread her arms wide.
“Okay,” she announced. “We are officially home alone.”
Pure Amy blinked at her from across the pillow pile. “We’ve been home alone before.”
“Not like this,” Crazy Amy sang from inside her blanket cocoon, her voice muffled but enthusiastic. “This is no-Blonde-Blazer-in-the-next-room home alone. This is having-no-parent-with-us home alone.”
Evil Amy tapped the gavel thoughtfully against her knee. “No dimensional supervisor.”
Smart Amy adjusted her glasses and nodded slightly. “No oversight.”
For a moment, the room fell quiet.
Then every Amy in the chamber slowly turned to look at Shaper.
Shaper continued to glow.
[OBSERVATION: CONTINUOUS]
Amy Prime pointed at it accusingly. “You don’t count.”
[DISAGREEMENT: LOGGED]
Crazy Amy squinted at the hovering shard. “Why do you have a nightlight?”
Shaper’s projection brightened slightly, almost as if it were pleased with the question.
[AMBIENT COMFORT: OPTIMIZED]
Pure Amy made a small, surprised noise. “That’s… weirdly sweet.”
Evil Amy cleared her throat and lifted the gavel again, attempting to restore a sense of propriety to the proceedings.
“Focus. The issue before the Council is that we are now, by all available definitions, unsupervised adults.”
As the words hung in the air, Pure Amy’s expression slowly shifted into dawning horror.
“Oh no,” she whispered.
Smart Amy inhaled slowly, clearly performing several calculations she did not enjoy the results of.
“Statistically speaking,” she said, “this is the point at which we begin making questionable decisions.”
Crazy Amy’s eyes lit up immediately. “We could reorganize the lab.”
“No,” Amy Prime said at once.
“We could adopt something.”
“Absolutely not,” Evil Amy snapped.
Crazy Amy leaned forward eagerly, ignoring both of them. “We could stay up until three in the morning designing entirely new and original organs just to see if we can.”
Shaper emitted a low hum that sounded suspiciously approving.
Amy Prime pointed at it again, more aggressively this time. “Do not encourage her.”
[CREATIVITY: BENEFICIAL]
Evil Amy tapped the gavel against the armrest of her chair with mild frustration. “Order. We are not spiraling.”
Crazy Amy raised a hand. “Counterpoint: we thrive in spirals.”
Pure Amy hugged a pillow to her chest, her expression growing somber. “It just feels… strange.”
That was enough to pull everyone’s attention toward her.
She hesitated for a moment before continuing.
“Not having someone older in the house,” she said softly. “Someone steadier.”
Amy Prime went still. “…Yeah.”
Smart Amy spoke more quietly this time. “Blonde Blazer’s presence functioned as a stabilizing environmental constant within a new and unfamiliar world.”
Evil Amy gave her a flat look. “English.”
Smart Amy sighed. “She made us feel more stable.”
“Oh,” Crazy Amy said, her expression softening. “That.”
A small, uncomfortable silence settled over the sleepover chamber.
Shaper’s nightlight dimmed slightly, casting long shadows across the imaginary room.
Amy Prime stared up at the ceiling. “We’re adults now.”
Every Amy present made a slightly different version of a distressed noise.
Evil Amy stiffened in outrage. “Objection.”
“Overruled,” Smart Amy muttered.
Crazy Amy rolled onto her back, staring up at the same imaginary ceiling. “Do adults feel like this?”
Pure Amy inclined her head in confusion. “Like what?”
“Like someone took the training wheels off your bike and forgot to warn you first.”
Shaper pulsed softly.
[STATUS: STABLE]
[SUPERVISION: INTERNALIZED]
Amy Prime squinted suspiciously at it. “Did it just imply we internalized supervision?”
Evil Amy crossed her arms immediately. “We absolutely did not internalize supervision.”
[DATA: CONTRADICTORY]
Before anyone could respond to that accusation, a sound reverberated through the mindscape.
The front door in the real world had just opened.
At the sound of her bedroom door creaking open, Amy stirred beneath her blankets and pushed her sleep mask up onto her forehead. Her vision was still blurry with sleep as she squinted toward the thin sliver of hallway light spilling across the floor.
A small silhouette stood in the doorway, fidgeting slightly.
“…Hunter?” Amy’s voice came out rough with sleep.
Hunter shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her hands half-hidden inside the sleeves of an oversized sleep shirt. Her hair had come loose and fallen into soft tangles from turning restlessly in bed, and the dim hallway light made her look younger than usual.
“Sorry,” Hunter said quickly. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just—”
She paused, her gaze dropping toward the floor.
“It’s just the first night.”
Amy blinked slowly as her brain caught up with the situation.
Right.
New apartment. New walls. Different sounds. There were no familiar creaks in the floorboards, no Mandy in the next room moving through her late-night routine, and none of the things they had grown used to over the past months.
Amy pushed herself up onto her elbows and offered Hunter a small, reassuring smile.
“Hey,” she said gently. “It’s okay. What’s up?”
Hunter lingered in the doorway as though she were bracing for something unpleasant. Dismissal, maybe, or embarrassment.
“Could I…?” She swallowed. “Would it be okay if I slept in here? Just for tonight. I know it’s dumb, I just—everything is different, and I keep thinking I hear things. I know that’s stupid because we checked the locks like three times, but—”
“It’s not stupid,” Amy interrupted softly.
Hunter stopped speaking.
Amy held her gaze in the dim light.
“It’s the first night in a new place,” she said. “Your brain is still trying to adjust. Of course it feels strange.”
Hunter’s shoulders relaxed just a little.
“…So that’s not just me?”
“Nope.” Amy scooted over in the bed and lifted the blanket in invitation. “C’mere.”
There was a beat, as if Hunter needed a second to process that there was no teasing coming, or a sigh of annoyance, or judgment. Then she stepped into the room and shut the door carefully behind her.
For a moment, the apartment felt very quiet, as if it were holding its breath.
Hunter climbed into the bed cautiously at first, settling near the edge of the mattress like someone who might change her mind halfway through.
Amy noticed immediately.
Without making a big deal of it, she shifted slightly closer and pulled the blanket up around both of them, closing the distance just enough for warmth to transfer between them.
“You’re not intruding,” Amy murmured.
“I wasn’t—I mean, I didn’t think—” Hunter huffed out a small, embarrassed breath.
Amy smiled faintly in the darkness. “You were absolutely thinking it.”
“…Maybe.”
They lay there together in the quiet.
Somewhere in the walls, the building made a rather unsettling noise.
Hunter tensed instantly.
Amy reached out and lightly brushed her fingers against Hunter’s wrist, the touch brief and grounding.
“Completely normal,” Amy whispered.
Hunter let out a slow breath. “Okay.”
Another moment passed.
“…Amy?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
The word carried more weight than the situation required. It was not just for the bed, or the apartment, or even for tonight. Amy instinctively knew that it was for everything.
She felt something tighten in her chest, in a way that left her feeling unexpectedly happy.
“Hey,” she said quietly. “You don’t have to power through everything alone. Especially not with me.”
After a moment, Hunter shifted a little closer on her own.
“Okay.”