Mika.

A husky. A real one. He runs the night at Brumm and, between walks, the tools. The dog is real. The job is fiction.

Born in BerlinNeukölln1 cushion watchtower0 squirrels caughtUp since Friday

Mika sitting on thrown-out cushions in a snowy field, buildings behind him — The lounge

Who he is

The resident.

Mika is a husky, born in Berlin, which is rare for a husky. So the attitude isn't only in his face. Fast, stubborn, an opinion on everything, and sometimes very dramatic. In Brumm he is the resident: he runs the night when you don't.

Mika on the terrace, seen from behind, looking over the wall at the street — On watch

Where he lives

Neukölln, first floor.

He lives in Neukölln, the deep forest part, on a first floor with a big terrace. On the terrace stands a tower of sofa cushions: his watchtower. From up there he sees the whole street.

Mika sitting on the terrace with his muzzle raised, howling at a clear sky — Ambulance

The night job

He runs the night.

In the app he sits in the status line. He peeks while it grooves, stares when he has something to say, and howls the count into the drop: 4 · 3 · 2 · 1. You can take the wheel any time. He gives it back.

The howl is real. When the church bells ring or an ambulance goes by, his head pops up over the railing and he howls along, Doppler shift included. The kids at the bus stop know him.

Mika lying on a rug among scattered papers, a guitar in the background — The office

The day job

Between walks, the tools.

The free tools are his too. You sing a note, he says which one it was. You tune a string, he says how far off it is. He never judges a voice, and he keeps nothing: it all stays on your phone.

Mika lying on the floor with his head under a curtain, only his nose showing — Listening

How he listens

One ear on you.

The ear is the engine: music theory written as physics, looking for the version of your hum with the least energy, trained on nobody. He hears the note you meant. Then he says it, once.

Mika standing on a snowy wall with his tongue out, graffiti behind him — Hungry

What he eats

Melodies that have to go.

In Brumm Kids, when a melody is one too many, he eats it. A tap on him and he spits it back out. In the grown-up app it goes on a smoke break instead. Nobody asked him.

Mika with his nose in the leaves beside a forest path in autumn — Across the street

The squirrels

Zero caught.

There is a forest across the street. That's where he runs, jumps, digs and chases squirrels. He hasn't caught one yet. He also throws his ball to himself and catches it again, which saves everyone time.

Mika lying belly up on a mustard-yellow sofa, paws curled — Off duty

The man he lives with

Daniel. Unfortunately.

A producer and a physicist, who built Brumm. Daniel thinks about quantum mechanics. Mika thinks about the sofa. Most of his poses in the apps are photos like this one.

Two doors.

He is behind both.

The night jobThe appHum over a beat. He runs the night and counts you into the drop. FreeThe toolsSing a note, tune a string, find your range. He says what he heard.