Twelve U.R.T.V.s–12 12-year-old boys, a gross of Jailbaits, as it were–are standing in pairs around the hexagonal catwalk we’ve seen before. Most of them are being little professionals, but tiny Albedo is making whimpering noises and gripping Jailbait/Rubedo’s hand with both of his. All the boys except Albedo put up their left hands, palms out, as Rubedo says, “All right, open spiritual link. All U.R.T.V.s match your individual waves to mine.” Albedo is still making a dramatic production out of this, and Rubedo has to physically move one of Albedo’s hands into position while he still won’t let go of his hand with the other one. All the generic blond U.R.T.V.s are going to laugh and make cryfaces behind his back later for this, but for now the link is complete, signified by a thin blue beam forming a circle inside the circle of boys.

The shadowy red gas cloud that we know is UUUUUUUU-DOOOOOOOO emerges from the hole in the catwalk, but it is held at bay by the link, even as it tries to bounce little energy sperm into the barrier. Albedo squeals every time this happens, his hand trembling. He wails, “I’m scared, Rubedo. Don’t let go of my hand.” Rubedo, being kind of a dick, doesn’t even look at Albedo as he tells him he’ll be fine if he concentrates. But no sooner does he say that than he himself gets a jolt from U-DO’s attempts to breach the barrier. In his head he sees a dark planet crack like an egg, lava spewing everywhere, as a massive skeletal dragon breaks free and spreads its wings. Apparently U-DO is the Tiamat summon from Final Fantasy? I don’t know.

Rubedo flashes back to 2016

Shaken by this vision, Rubedo lowers his hand and starts pulling away from the others. You can imagine how well Albedo takes this. The link remains in place, seemingly because Albedo still has Rubedo’s hand in a sweaty death grip, but not for long! “Emergency cutoff!” Rubedo yells. “Shutting down spiritual link!” Nigredo and all the generic U.R.T.V.s gasp in unison at this, but Rubedo, who half a second ago was having a mild breakdown because he had an apocalypse vision, confidently tells them he knows what he’s doing. “Even though we think of them as mental waves,” he says, “the resulting anti-particle collision with us will be converted directly into thermal energy.” I’ll…take your word for it? I think he’s saying that they’re about to become some kind of anti-U-DO explosive device. “Dad knew everything. That bastard!” Yeah! If you want to nuke U-DO (gotta nuke something), I can’t think of a more efficient approach than to spend years engineering psychic little boy clones to think at it really hard.

Nigredo points out that it’s a little late to stop the link when it’s already been completed, but Rubedo has made up his mind, and starts trying to wrench his hand free of Albedo’s. Poor Albedo, who’s hanging on for dear life and also holding his other hand up to the barrier. He’s emotionally distraught and he looks like he might physically tear himself in half contorting like this. Rubedo, with one final grunt, says he’s shutting this shit down and pulls free, ignoring the small ocean of tears in his brother’s bloodshot eyes. This flashback is really invested in making me believe Albedo is capable of sadness.

The other U.R.T.V.s hesitantly lower their hands and stare for a moment before everything goes pear-shaped. Then, one by one, the blonds are hit with beams of pure uncut U-DO. You did it, Rubedo! You saved your brothers from death! This is what saving people from death looks like, right? Nigredo is still gaping, and Albedo is still reaching out for Rubedo’s hand, as Rubedo moans in disbelief and stumbles backward. So thankfully he’s at a distance of several feet when the biggest, throbbingest U-DO sperm yet zeroes in on Albedo. Homeboy screams and holds his head in his hands for easily five hours as the screen transitions from purple and red waves over his cryface to solid red.

So that went well! I don’t know why Albedo is holding such a grudge!

Back in the present, Ziggy asks again what U-DO is. “It’s an energy from a higher dimension. An entity humans couldn’t possibly control. It’s ironic that we U.R.T.V.s are its anti-existence, and yet we were never told what it really is.” What’s even more ironic is that Jailbait is telling them all this inside a building called the U.M.N. Control Center. Just to make sure I’ve got all this right: the U.M.N.–you know, the network that controls all space travel and the internet, so nothing less than the spine of their civilization–is powered, somehow, by this unknowable, uncontrollable force that kills most people who touch it, and the few who don’t die become insane monsters. The last time it had a brownout or whatever the fuck, an entire planet was essentially wiped out of existence. And everybody just…goes with this. This is literally letting Jesus take the wheel.

Thanks for your contribution!

But I’m sure this sensible series of decisions will not possibly backfire in any way. Don’t worry, everyone! Humanity has got this under control! Not literally, of course. Oh my, no. That’s kind of the problem! But if you’re worried they don’t have ignoring the problem on lock, you can rest easy.

With the exposition brief concluded, Corey finishes the Encephalon setup as the camera spins dramatically around MOMO and the four people about to enter her brain, all wearing VR headsets. Corey assures everyone that he’s a “pro” at this, and Shion even agrees: “He’s right. We’re in good hands.” Why is she suddenly being so nice to him? Is Corey dying? Corey and a robot voice continue technobabbling for at least another minute about KOS-MOS’s data import and everything proceeding smoothly, which makes it feel like something bad or unexpected is about to happen, as it did with the gang’s last Encephalon trip, but the process in fact goes off without a hitch. Some orange energy waves pulse around the Cerebro room, the camera spins around the participants even faster, and a white screen transfers them to the magic of virtual reality.

Our Oculus Rift players, now plus KOS-MOS, find themselves in the picket-fenced front yard of a small house in the middle of a cornfield. It looks like the house someone would build themselves in Second Life if they didn’t want to interact with other players at all. Jailbait identifies this house on the outskirts of Smallville as “Sakura’s inner world.” Sakura is pretty boring! Imagine yourself a Ferris wheel and a cotton candy machine, at least! Jailbait then notices MOMO sitting on a swing on the front porch. But for the second time, MOMO is unresponsive. I only say this because when Shion tells him she’s not going to answer, he’s all indignant about it. “She’s right there in front of us!” Yeah, I know last time it wasn’t actually MOMO, but maybe it’s not this time either! She’s, like, a virus! But Shion patiently explains that her “personality layer” got turned off for the diagnostic and she’s also braindead. Whoops, look at that unclear pronoun usage! Obviously MOMO, too, is braindead and lacking in personality.

‘Like, for example, kicking me in the box.’

Shion decides, somewhere deep in her one brain cell, that MOMO sitting silently on this imaginary porch swing is her “trying so hard to help us.” I don’t know, man. She might be waiting for her microwave popcorn to be ready. Ziggy tells the two of them to stop sulking and get a move on so they can actually help her. Just the entire point of the mission! No big. But when we transition out of the cutscene and from the Sad Piano of Comatose Grade Schoolers to the more upbeat (and surprise: terrible) normal theme on MOMO’s virtual veranda, Jailbait says, “Come on, MOMO, let’s go. I swear I’ll always keep you safe.” You could start by LEAVING HER HERE, DUDE. But just like that, MOMO joins the party. So when Shion said a moment ago that anything MOMO does in this space would be a “simple reflex”? As we will see in combat later, apparently that includes firing her fucking compound bow, casting ethers, and chirping “I’m more of a combat model these days” after battles. Reflexes! Like you do.

Inside, Ziggy discovers that either the real Dr. and Dr. Mizrahi or the imaginary Sakura/MOMO had terrible taste in decorating–all the furniture is brown, the floor is a matching brown, and the walls are eggshell white. It couldn’t be more basic if there were a “LIVE LAUGH LOVE” woodblock print above the sofa. He loots some skill upgrades from the otherwise bare pantry and clanks upstairs to the lone bedroom, belonging to Sakura. Again, either this is how her house looked in reality and her parents slept in a crawlspace, or she invented a house just for herself in her mind and included a dining table for an entire family. This all works. The bedroom barely has more personality than the rest of the house–the carpet and wall trim are pink, because ladies, and the spare furniture displays a few generic toys and dolls. Sakura herself, a young brunette girl superficially not similar to her future Realian clone at all, is asleep in a bed with a frame made of pale wood, when every other piece in the house is dark wood. I don’t know why I’m hung up on this, but I am.

Our heroes stare creepily at her for a few moments, before Shion says, “Is that…MOMO?” She’s having a hard time with this concept. Jailbait and Ziggy waste their precious breath telling her it’s Sakura. And Ziggy didn’t even know the girl! God. Escalating the awkwardness, the gang suddenly hears voices coming from somewhere in the room. “Rubedo…it’s all dark,” one muffled voice says. Another adds, “It’s kinda cramped in here.” Are they trapped in Sakura’s vagina or something? Rubedo’s voice tells the other two, “I know! Just shut up for a second, will ya?” The first whiny baby begs for Rubedo to turn a light on, and the sounds of dumb boys tussling with each other fills the room. The camera stops its slow pan on the closet doors, just in time for three tangled-up U.R.T.V. boys to tumble out onto the carpet, limbs akimbo. The closet, for what it’s worth, is actually quite spacious, especially since there are no clothes in it. Were they all manspreading?

They are all entirely too clothed for this to make any sense.

The surprise of seeing these three trapped in a closet doesn’t really land, since we just saw a cutscene of all of them less than five minutes ago. But they themselves are surprised to be here, Albedo whining that they “must’ve messed up the connection coordinates.” Shion and Shion alone makes a little grunt of shock at seeing the boys, leading Jailbait to feel the need to say, “Uh-huh. That’s us fourteen years ago.” IT IS??? WOW. As Albedo and Rubedo move on to blaming Nigredo for the mistake–an easy target since he’s barely paying them any attention–Nigredo cuts them off, staring at Sakura. “That girl is our contact target. The coordinates were correct.” Wait, so their contact target is a little girl, and they land in a little girl’s bedroom, but think they are in the wrong place? Do Rubedo and Albedo not know what a little girl is? (Spoiler: maybe.)

Meanwhile, Sakura has woken up and is staring placidly at these intruders in her bedroom. “That girl…she’s looking at us!” Albedo shrieks, like he’s never been so violated in his life. Rubedo apologizes, also sounding like he’s worried they wandered into a cootie quarantine area, but as he and Albedo basically try to run away through the fucking closet, Sakura asks them to wait. Breathily, and with her hands clasped, she says, “You guys… You can hear what I’m saying?” They nod in unison, frozen mid-pawing at each other. Nobody says anything for a moment, until Sakura, one perfect tear rolling down her cheek, sobs, “I’m…I’m so happy you came.” Yikes! This took a turn. Rubedo and Nigredo walk toward the crying girl, and Albedo pointedly does not, as the scene fades to white.

WHY

Ziggy is now free to rifle through Sakura’s possessions, though at least that doesn’t include her underwear, since apparently there are no clothes in virtual reality closets and dressers. But when he leaves the room, he can follow a ghostly apparition of the three U.R.T.V.s as they run down the stairs, out of the house, and onto some kind of teleportation pad in the front yard. Why didn’t they use that in the first place instead of landing in a closet? Yes, I know the answer is “So they could make out.”

After following the boys onto the teleporter, the scene cuts to a laboratory with bright lights, pristine gray paneling with sharp red floor trim, and several pods with beds that look like hyperbaric chambers. A younger (just kidding, she looks exactly the same) Yuri Mizrahi is asking a blond man in a fancy black lab coat and white pants, “Dmitri… Are you sure those boys are going to be able to help with Sakura’s treatment?” As they walk at 0.1 miles per hour toward the center of the room, Dmitri Yuriev replies in a creepy monotone, “I don’t believe the condition your daughter suffers from is a mere natural disorder. Therefore, contact with the anti-U-DO waveforms within the U.R.T.V.s will be beneficial for her.” But enough about Sakura Mizrahi’s U-DO-caused brain tumor–now that the camera has flipped around to show Dmitri’s face, we can see that he is the spitting image of his army of clone boys. Plagued with crow’s feet around his eyes, sure, but identical. I mean, I guess it was obvious that if he was going to create a clone army to fight UUUUUUUU-DOOOOOOOOO, cloning himself was the clear choice. Think of all those harvestable kidneys!

“Hypersensitivity to the synchronicity of the U.M.N….” Dr. Yuri wonders, eyes closed. “We never had diseases like that when the universe was still small.” Well, you likely did, and just didn’t know what they were. Some little girl in the Dark Ages probably had an UUUUUUUU-DOOOOOOO aneurysm and the doctor thought it was hysteria brought on by an excess of menstrual humours or devil impregnation.

Alarms sound, signaling the end of a U.M.N. dive operation. The three “dive pods” closest to Dmitri and Yuri open up, revealing our three sleeping clone boys. Rubedo opens his eyes, flies into a sitting position, and coughs while he’s trying to get words out, so excited is he to give his report. “That girl…” he tells the two adults in the room. “That girl gave me a message. She said, ‘Please tell my mother… Please tell my mother that I love her.'” Ugh. Dr. Yuri is moved–you can tell because her facial features change for a split second, and the music from the Windchimes of Emotion swells like there’s a hurricane outside–but Rubedo is not done. “What else… She said, ‘I got a seashell treasure box for my birthday last year. If you tell my mother that, she’ll understand.'” She’ll only believe her daughter loves her if she hears about a stupid jewelry box! Noted. But this convinces Yuri, I guess, that Rubedo isn’t making shit up, and she excitedly asks about his experience while Dmitri pushes his glasses up on his nose and smirks about the wavelengths matching up. Well, someone was talking big shit just now for not even knowing if this would work.

Yuri asks for this young man’s name, and he excitedly chirps, “Rubedo!” before remembering that he’s not supposed to have a soul, I guess, and correcting to, “U.R.T.V. unit number 666.” Does Daddy get out the switch if his sons are too informal around clients? But Yuri takes Rubedo by the hand, calls him by his actual name, and asks, on her damn knees and everything, “Please keep telling me the things she says, all right?” Are these dives about actually curing Sakura’s disease, or are they about communicating with her despite the disease? If it’s the latter, he should probably rename this place to the Yuriev Institute of Little Boy Séances for the Comatose. Speaking of the comatose, Shion is watching all this from behind an observation window. “Mom…” she mutters, looking at the floor and sighing. Did you guys forget? Shion is still here, and still has issues! We went ten whole minutes without the entire story being about her, so if you forgot, I understand!