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She shakes her head, a little bit tired out from talking so much. The ones who make their way up tend to be Machine types or Virus types, who can take on the monumental task of hacking the teleportation booths. Those who aren't have to search for those that have their encryption broken or leaked. Whenever a Code Cracker comes down here, the doors they open allow Digimon to slip back up into the city. Gomamon has never gone up.
"Do you want to? One day?"
<span class="mu-b"><span class="mu-s">"No. Why would I? I can just get stronger down here."</span></span>
"But there's a limit. When you grow strong, what will you do with all that strength?"
<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-b">"Do? Uh..."</span></span>
She's confused. She doesn't seem to have considered that question at all. She glances up at Phascomon.
<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-b">"Same as him, I bet! Just get stronger! Live! That's it."</span></span>
"It's a start, but that's not all he's after. You really don't have a dream?"
She stares at you with wide, doeful eyes, full of confusion, and with an ever-present innocence behind them. She might be a virus-killing machine, but the way she speaks is like a child. It's like there's nothing deeper going on beyond the struggle to survive, which she does seem to enjoy despite the danger.
<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-b">"A dream?"</span></span>
You feel a deep pity for her. And so, you begin to speak. You tell her, much to her shock, of your mutual goal of climbing the Tower. She doesn't even know what that is. Beyond the nebulous concept of the surface-world, she doesn't even understand how big a city is, or that there's a supposed Digital World up above. She's living in a deep well, and doesn't dare to dream. She doesn't have anything to push for, apart from the nebulous ideal of 'the strongest' that seems hard-coded into Digimon.
You limit what you share. You don't dig deep into your past, nor do you intrude on Phascomon's. You just tell her about the greater world, what you each want to do, and how this ideal keeps you going. She seems like she has a lot to think about once she's exposed to this alien concept, and begins pacing the room restlessly.
<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-b">"Dream... Dream... Dream... I'm sure I can think of one! I want one too! Is that a good dream? Did I get my answer? My dream is to have a dream?"</span></span>
You can't help but giggle at that. You hold out a hand to pat her head softly.
"I don't think that counts. But it's a start. It makes you want to run forward, right?"
<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-b">"It does!"</span></span>
"Then yeah, stick to it."
She gives you a firm nod.
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