My night vision is gone. The hotel room goes from green monochrome to pitch blackness.

For a moment, I am confused. Then I realize what just happened.

I don’t know how I expected it to feel. Then I realize the feelings I’m used to are gone. Instead of the chill, liquid rush through my cooling lines, I feel a faint thump, thump in my neck. And instead of the whoosh of air over my circuits, the pump of mechanical breath, I feel … nothing.

I stand there confused, turning around trying to see myself and failing. My tail swishes, not with nervousness but annoyance. It feels floppy and loose, as though it’s not secured tight but is hanging limply on my skeleton. Everything feels floppy and loose, and I wrap my arms around myself, as if trying to keep my squishy flesh from sloughing right off of my bones.

It hurts, and I wince and let go as I realize I’ve pinched myself. But even the movements of my face seem unnatural.

There’s a tightness in my chest, and I unfold my arms, prodding the skin that’s stretched over my ribs and wondering if I have damaged myself. But then I remember where that pain comes from, and I take a deep breath through my muzzle — a dry, airy breath, that leaves me thirsty for liquid coolant.

I exhale, and realize I’ve got to breathe again in a second. Now I’m starting to feel something. Worry? I don’t know. I was never able to recognize it, not even when I was human. But the thump, thump in my neck is thumping faster, and I feel like a claw is gripping my innards. My stomach growls, and I worry about it, too.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” a male voice asks. And then I can see specks of light in the darkness, eight pinpricks bright as candles. They’re in between me and the television, and the man is between me and them; a silhouette in the dark. In the television’s wide screen, I see the reflection of a muzzle, and a knot of bushy, white-tipped tails like mine. They’re swishing and sly, like snakes.

I think of how to answer the man. Even when I agreed, I knew this was not what I wanted … not in the long run, at least. I realize now that the feeling that caused me to say ‘yes’ was not the deep, inner longing he spoke of, but a sense of curiosity. And that curiosity is abated.

My stomach tightens, and I clutch it, beginning to feel waves of awful. The feelings are strong enough that I remember their meaning from childhood. I must be very distressed, if I am about to throw up.

I decide not to answer the man. “Change me back,” I say, my voice sounding quiet and “off.” It wavers, reflecting the nervousness I must be feeling.

“What?”

I can’t tell if he doesn’t believe that I want this, or just didn’t hear me correctly. I decide to be generous and assume the latter. “Change me back,” I say again, putting more force in my voice. Remembering how to do that. Remembering arguments with my father, and roommates, and fellow board members. I won’t be denied what I am entitled to.

“But … why?” he sputters, less confident than when we first met. “You’re a living being again! Claris, you’re a living, breathing woman, and-”

“I was already alive,” I say, cutting him off. I realize I’m clutching my soulcrystal in my hand, and I open my palm, letting its faint violet light shine out into the room.

He points down at it. “That’s not life!”

“For me, it is. Now change me back.”

He’s silent. I see his fist-outlines clenching and unclenching, and I wonder if he plans to steal my soulcrystal. For a second, my worry intensifies, and I know it means I am afraid. Then I remember who I am, and what kind of power I have. And I tell myself no one would dare, not even him. Not even someone with powers like his.

He’s still silent. “What are you waiting for?” I ask, and I start to feel annoyed with him. “I don’t need more time to make up my mind. I remember what it was like to be this way. Having fur and a tail doesn’t change anything. Or is it because I’m a woman?” I ask. “Would you be so confused if a man had asked you to change him back? Or were you hoping I’d let you do something else to me now?”

It occurs to me that I am naked.

There is a flash of green light, and I stagger and fall. I am on my side all of a sudden, leaning against the bed, and I can see in infrared and feel the mechanical breath pumping throughout my system. But something feels wrong, and I realize the feeling of liquid throughout me is gone. My coolant lines are dry, my batteries are almost dead, and the thick polyfur all around me is making my innards heat up.

Brighter green fills the room as the door flies open, without anyone reaching for it. “Go,” the man says, and points outside. “Go, and get out of my sight.”

I don’t want to argue with him. I am scared now, as though the same neurons were firing and muscles were tensing inside me. The soulcrystal embedded in me glows brighter as I stumble and lurch outside, tripping and falling just past the door as it slams shut behind me. I look around for someone to help me up, but there’s no one here. Just a loud room party across the hall.

I look up at the door. A drawing of anthropomorphic animals is taped to it, and I wonder if the people inside know a real one is staying across from them. I realize I was one for a minute, but that doesn’t make me feel different.

I pull myself up by their doorknob. The sky past the window at the end of the hall is black, and I can see myself clearly in it: Claris, the mechanical vixen. The heir of Pomegranate Computer, and the best fursuit ever designed. The guest of honor, and sponsor.

The rig with a gaming-class power supply, and a carpet of insulation.

I have to get back to the room, with my charger and my liquid coolant. Before I either shut down, or watch everything inside me melt.

Species: Bat
Defiance: Nil

There are a man and a woman standing on the streetcorner, wearing face-concealing gas masks and gray-and-white camouflage uniforms. Each has a bulky, nozzled contraption slung over his or her shoulder, a dark gray menacing kind of machine with dual handgrips and a trigger.

The sky is gray. The streets are quiet. The cars are all stopped. A handful of people are out, beneath the skyscrapers with shuttered doors and blank windows. All of them have animalistic features, swishing tails and twitching ears, and clothes that are too big or too small on them.

Species: Dog
Defiance: Nil

A canid rounds the corner in front of the soldiers and gasps, then hurries past with his tail tucked between his legs. He does not look up at them. He does not make eye contact. The man swats at his back to hurry him past, and he jumps, before running to a safe distance.

The woman examines him, pressing one hand to the side of her mask and holding down a small button. Then she looks across the street, at a big, burly cat that bristles his fur at her, glaring as he goes by.

Species: Lion
Defiance: Significant

She says nothing, but watches slowly as he walks past. Seagulls cry overhead, and out in the bay the sky rumbles with thunder. Somewhere nearby, it is raining.

The man plays with a touchscreen set in the arm of his uniform, as the woman unshoulders her pack and sets it inside a doorway. She rummages through it and gets out a covered steel cup and utensil, then sets them aside before releasing the pressure lock and taking off her mask.

Sweaty, stringy hair clings to the inside of it, before she pulls it away and sets it on top of her pack. Her face is small, and her features look Inuit.

“Time,” the man next to her says, without looking up.

She twists a mechanical watch on the underside of her arm, to set it ticking. “1450,” she reports.

“You’ve got fifteen minutes, Tyris.”

“I know … sir.” Tyris nods, looking up at him. She doesn’t need to be told what happens to exposed humans on this planet.

She unseals the lid on her cup and smells the warm chowder inside, closing her eyes and communing with cream, milk and clams. They were powder this morning, but she doesn’t care.

A packet of crackers gets dumped in. Then comes a spoon, and it scoops out bite after bite. She eats slowly, pretending she’s home in her mother’s kitchen, and there are fish sizzling on the stove and the snow piles up outside on the-

There is a sound like a CRACK of thunder right next to her, and she startles and drops her half-empty cup. It clatters to the sidewalk, the only sound on the street as everyone in earshot freezes.

The man strides across the street, as Tyris fumbles to jam her mask back on. Everything is dark inside. Then it activates, and she sees her commander questioning a pale-skinned native boy, leaning over him and burbling in their fluid language. The boy is wearing their bright-colored clothes, far too light for this weather, and is doing a poor job of hiding how scared he is.

Tyris holds down a button on her facemask and sees the thin, black line traced by the shot, a zone of pure death that goes into the ground. Then she looks at the glowing outline of the talking native boy, next to the tiny pinprick of light in the soulcrystal on her commander’s person, and squints at the boy’s readout.

Species: ???
Defiance: Nil

She cocks her head at him, trying to figure out what’s going on and why her readout is messed up. Then she holds down another button, while unshouldering her own rifle, and hears their voices in plain Nearan.

“Go back!” her commander shouts.

“But-” the boy protests.

“Go back!”

Tyris watches the boy’s shoulders slump, dejected, as he turns and walks away. For a moment, she feels sorry for him. But she knows that was for his own good.

It is back there, further into the city, the way that human boy was going.

It does not like humans.

But as Tyris’ commander comes back to the streetcorner next to her, she realizes that this man just shot at one. At an unarmed child, no less. And in a moment of indignation, she asks “Was that really necessary?”

“At your attention, soldier!”

Tyris and her heart both leap to attention, as she stands still and rigid. Her foot is in the clam chowder spill, but she does not care.

“What is your rank, soldier?” His voice is modulated by his helmet, for no other reason than to sound intimidating.

“Legionnaire.” Tyris’ voice is muffled by hers.

“How long have you been on Earth?”

“Two weeks.” Tyris looks past his facemask without turning her head, knowing her visor is glossy enough that he can’t see her.

“How long have I been on Earth?”

“Three years.” He’d told her that morning.

He tells her about the savage, filthy Earth humans. The survivor camps that they live in. The crude machines that they drive, that they struggle to keep maintained, and the wars that they fight for the last drops of oil. And the way they mix animals’ souls with their own, turning themselves into animals. Turning themselves into beasts of burden.

Tyris listens, and reminds herself of how stupid she is. And how very out of her league she is on this planet.

“I saw what that boy had,” her commander tells her. “He was carrying a blank soulcrystal. He was a Spirit Hunter looking for a mark, an animal that he could kill or capture. Like one of the Company’s workers. It’s our job to guard their assets. It’s-”

Something yips. Tyris turns and sees the boy chasing after a fox, into a dark alley.

Tyris takes off after him, before her commander finishes unshouldering his weapon. He shouts at her. She does not listen. She hates him and she hates herself, but she knows what she needs to do. And how long she has to act.

Damp brick and street trash fill Tyris’ vision. Her echoing breath fills her ears. Her weapon is too heavy, so she unslings it and drops it as she rounds the corner.

Far past the alley, in between ruined skyscrapers, It reflects the dull grayish clouds. It sits there, a crystalline monolith, more powerful than the buildings that It displaced when It grew from the ground. Far beneath It, the boy runs towards a parking garage, across the street and towards It.

It is not dangerous until the sun comes out above It.

The clouds are beginning to part.

Tyris sees the boy running towards It, and shouts the only English word that she knows. “Stop!” she yells. “Stop!” She has to lean against the brick wall on the near side of the street, and gasp for breath after running.

The sun comes out, and It shines Its prismatic Glare, just as the boy dives into the shadows among ruined cars. Tyris stands there in the light, as the air wavers like a heat distortion and everything sparkles like diamonds. For a moment, her breath catches in her throat; but then she reminds herself I’m not like him, I’m not susceptible, it only swallows your soul if you have one.

I’m Hollow. I am immune.

Tyris lets herself catch her breath, feeling uncomfortably warm inside her armor. Then she forces herself to stride towards the garage, mechanically, trying to swallow her fear and uncertainty. Feeling less like a soldier and more like a robot. But that makes her remember Claris, the first woman to have her soulcrystal inhabit a robot after she died, and she thinks I’m not so different. And we’re both different from everyone else.

I can do this. I can save him.

Tyris crawls in between the concrete barriers, into the darkness of the parking garage. She can’t hear any sounds in there, from her quarry or the fox he was chasing, because the noise from near It is too loud; the vehicles rumbling, scaffolding shaking, drills chipping crystal and concrete. The mining operation’s in full swing, and the Company won’t let its Earth workers be interrupted.

Tyris doesn’t care about the Company. She wants to save that poor boy.

Clouds cover the sun again, and Tyris’ eyes adjust to the darkness. She taps the side of her visor again and squints at the vehicles’ outlines, looking for the boy’s glow. Looking for his soul, in between the inanimate objects. It was always easier for Tyris than anyone else, because she never had to worry about her own glow blinding her.

Species: Unknown
Defiance: Nil

There he is. In between two of the tiny Earth vehicles. He’s ignoring her, and crawling on hands and knees towards another, smaller glow. The fox.

A sudden longing wrenches at Tyris’ stomach. She doesn’t know what it is. She’s watching the fox, watching it past the glow in its fur, paws, and tail, and remembering the time that she went to the zoo. And stared at one the whole time.

Only when the boy sets up a large, scraping metal box, and begins to draw anima towards himself from the animal, does Tyris shake her head and clear it. She walks closer, looking down at the boy through the car he is hiding behind, seeing him so intent on the fox that he does not see or hear her. Until the fox notices her and runs, and he stands up and sees her and freezes.

“Stop,” Tyris commands.

He runs, towards the fox. Towards the far end of the parking garage, and the mining trucks around It.

“Thrak.” Tyris runs after him.

The boy stops abruptly at the edge of the garage, where its concrete floor gives way to the crater surrounding It. For a moment, Tyris thinks I’m gaining on him, and remembers her training in hand-to-hand combat and how to subdue a person. But then she sees him jump down and start climbing through broken concrete, as the fox peeks its head up past him. Staring up at It, and the scaffolds surrounding It. At the freshly-blasted crystal dust raining down one of Its sides, into a truck the size of a building. And at the hovering sky-truck above it, where Earth anthro workers are climbing onto the scaffolds and securing themselves by their harnesses.

The fox just keeps staring at It. And the boy’s fixated on the fox.

There’s only one way to end this, Tyris thinks. She puts on a fresh burst of speed, and jumps out into the air.

Tyris lands on top of the boy, cracking his head and kneecaps to the concrete, then rolling with him down the crater until cracked pavement gives way to dust. Her hastily-reattached helmet comes off, but her armor and training help her get the best of it. It only takes her a moment to regain her bearing, while the boy is still senseless.

“Are you insane?” she shouts at him in Nearan, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him as his head lolls. “What were you trying to do!? You could have gotten your soul eaten, you could have … ”

Tyris’ voice trails off, as she notices two things.

First, the fox is right next to her. It didn’t run. It’s just sitting there, staring up at It.

And second, the sun has come out.

The fox rears up on its hind legs and yips, its fur sparkling, as glittery anima wisps from its muzzle. It isn’t in pain. It’s ecstatic.

Tyris looks down, and sees the boy’s spirit escaping him right through her fingertips.

“No!” she shouts, and her training leaves her. She tries to shield him; she tries to shadow him with her body. But she can’t do that and hold him up at the same time, and a steady stream of anima trails out through the unconscious boy’s mouth and eyes.

Tyris leaps up and grabs at it, clawing the air, watching the boy’s and the fox’s souls scatter like dust in the sunlight. Then they twirl together past her arms, and beneath her the boy’s face is smiling as the fox’s form slumps to the ground.

Glowing wisps and motes of anima fill Tyris’ vision, and she knows this is bad but she doesn’t remember why. She’s scared, she’s in shock, she’s losing control of her breathing. She thinks I killed him, I killed him, oh Goddess I’m sorry, I hate myself, I’m so sorry.

Then she remembers her training. The videos, the drills and the hazmat suits. She remembers why she has to wear a mask at all times. And she looks down at her suit’s anima tag, that she has to wear like a radiation badge, and sees that it’s glowing bright red.

The two souls are taken in front of her, drifting up inside It right past the workers. And Tyris slumps to the ground, sobbing and shivering. Small and unnoticed beneath It, and beneath the Company’s hardware.

She finally crawls over and picks up her helmet, putting it on and keying the radio. “Sir, I’m in a hot zone,” she says. “I’m contaminated.” Her voice is flat. She knows what awaits her, and knows she deserves it.

It takes them an hour to pick her up. She just sits there, watching the anthros.

I woke up to a soft,‭ ‬red glow all around me,‭ ‬and the sound of air rushing past my ears.‭ ‬The glow looked like flames,‭ ‬and the wind was blowing them past but they weren’t touching me.‭ ‬It looked like I was inside a bubble‭ ‬…

800‎ ‏feet

…‎ ‏and it‭ ‬felt like I was standing inside of a hurricane.‭ ‬Except that my feet weren’t on the ground.‭ ‬I was still drowsy,‭ ‬so it felt surreal.‭ ‬Where was I‭? ‬Why couldn’t I remember how I’d gotten here‭?

600‎ ‏feet

What’d happened to my‭ ‬arms‭?‬ I looked down at them,‭ ‬dimly lit by the fire in front of me.‭ ‬They were bare and covered in fur.‭ ‬That didn’t seem right at all.

400‎ ‏feet

If my arms were covered in fur,‭ ‬I thought,‭ ‬then why weren’t they burning‭? ‬Why wasn’t‭ ‬I burning‭? ‬Where were the flames even coming from‭?

200‎ ‏feet

And what was that‭ ‬thing‭ ‬coming at me‭? ‬It looked like an enormous black wall,‭ ‬its surface rippling like‭ ‬…‭ ‬water‭ ‬…

20‎ ‏feet

OH CR-

Ugh.

My whole body felt heavy,‭ ‬like I’d just been dragged out of a‭ ‬swimming pool.‭ ‬I was sprawled out on top of something hard and damp,‭ ‬unable to get up,‭ ‬barely able to think.‭ ‬Water crawled past my feet up to my chest,‭ ‬and back again.‭ ‬It was warm.

Okay,‭ ‬I thought,‭ ‬so I washed up on shore somewhere.‭ ‬There were about a million things that could’ve gone wrong with this.‭ ‬I could be on a deserted island someplace‭; ‬I could have some huge gash or internal injury,‭ ‬that I wouldn’t even know about until I tried to move.‭ ‬Then I wouldn’t just be tired and limp,‭ ‬I’d be tired and limp and bleeding to death.

The thought made me scared enough to try moving to check,‭ ‬but I managed to lift my face about an inch from the sand before flopping back down and wincing.‭ ‬Wet sand shifted and ground beneath me,‭ ‬and there was something‭ ‬on top of my face,‭ ‬like a washcloth covering my eyes.‭ ‬I could hear waves and seabirds,‭ ‬but I couldn’t see anything even when I opened my eyes,‭ ‬and I‭ ‬smelled something salty and briny.

I lay there just breathing for a long moment.‭ ‬Then‭ ‬I made myself flop my arm up, from down at my side to over my shoulder,‭ ‬all in one motion.‭ ‬I could feel my hand hit the hard sand,‭ ‬but the pain barely registered.‭ ‬Slowly,‭ ‬I reached up with my fingers without moving my arm,‭ ‬and peeled wet,‭ ‬sickly orange seaweed off of my face.

I tried to toss it aside with a flick of my limp hand‭ ‬but just ended up dragging it farther over me.‭ ‬At least it wasn’t covering my eyes,‭ ‬though,‭ ‬and the sun seemed to be behind me.‭ ‬I could see down the beach‭; ‬there were tree-lined cliffs not far away,‭ ‬and what looked like a lighthouse past them.

You’d think I would’ve been happy to see a sign that I wasn’t alone here.‭ ‬But‭ the lighthouse ‬wasn’t what caught my eye.‭ ‬Instead,‭ ‬I was staring at my arm.‭ ‬It was covered in black fur,‭ ‬just like when I was falling.‭ ‬And it was matted,‭ ‬salty,‭ ‬and wet,‭ ‬but it was still fur.

There was something in front of my vision‭; ‬a muzzle,‭ ‬with a tiny black nose.‭ ‬I groaned and closed my eyes again.‭ ‬I wondered if I should feel hurt or betrayed‭ ‬…‭ ‬or giddy.‭ ‬But all I could feel was shock,‭ ‬and my heart beating fast against the sand.

I wasn’t stupid‭; ‬I knew what had happened to me.‭ ‬But for the life of me,‭ ‬I couldn’t remember how my transformation had happened.‭ ‬I couldn’t even remember if this kind of thing was unheard of,‭ ‬or if there were other people like this.‭ ‬I couldn’t remember my name.‭ ‬But it wasn’t like total amnesia‭; ‬it was like trying to recall how to say‭ “‬Hello‭” ‬in some language you’d barely heard of.‭ ‬There were hints of it there‭; ‬I could taste them.‭ ‬But my brain had somehow misfiled it.‭ ‬I couldn’t‭ ‬clearly remember anything‭ ‬…‭ ‬anything,‭ ‬that is,‭ ‬except falling.

Those had been re-entry flames around me.‭ ‬How the heck had I survived‭ ‬that‭?

Minutes passed.‭ ‬I focused on the soothing water behind me, still lapping at my legs,‭ ‬and I felt my heart rate go down. But the briny,‭ ‬seaweed smell was starting to get to me,‭ ‬and it was hard to breathe while laying on my chest.‭ ‬Worse,‭ ‬my back was getting warm from where the sun was shining on it.

I didn’t want to move.‭ ‬I knew I could make myself,‭ ‬but I didn’t want to.‭ ‬I just wanted the uncomfortable things to go away,‭ ‬so I could go back to sleep.‭ ‬But I knew that that wasn’t going to happen,‭ ‬so I groaned and tried to get up.

My arm lifted for a second,‭ ‬before flopping back down to the sand beside me.

Okay,‭ ‬I thought,‭ ‬let’s try that again.‭ ‬I got my other arm into position,‭ ‬then I tried to push off of the sand to sit up,‭ ‬grunting with the exertion.‭ ‬It worked,‭ ‬and the seaweed slid off down my back.‭ ‬Then I looked down at myself,‭ ‬just to get an idea of what’d happened to me.

Fur covered my whole body‭; ‬which was good,‭ ‬because I wasn’t wearing any clothes besides my gloves and my shoes.‭ ‬It was a glossy,‭ ‬unnatural shade of black,‭ ‬with tufts of white on my flat,‭ ‬male chest.‭ ‬Neon‭ ‬teal‭ ‬accents rimmed my arms and legs.

Those do not look like natural colors,‭ ‬I thought.‭ ‬What am I‭?

I felt something thick and bushy on the back of my head as I turned it to look around at myself.‭ ‬Not hair‭; ‬more substantial than that.‭ ‬I reached behind me to feel what it was,‭ ‬and my hand came back with stiff quills.‭ ‬Was I a porcupine‭? ‬Maybe a hedgehog‭; ‬the quills weren’t that pointy.

Then I looked up.‭ ‬There were people,‭ ‬a ways down the beach.‭ ‬Lots of them.‭ ‬Humans.

For a second,‭ ‬my heart leaped.‭ ‬There were people here‭! ‬I could get help‭! ‬I could remember I’d used to be human,‭ ‬too‭; ‬that had to count for something,‭ ‬right‭? ‬But then I remembered something else‭ ‬…‭ ‬a feeling of suspicion,‭ ‬of distrust.‭ ‬Like a hurt,‭ ‬upset animal would have.‭ ‬I remembered not liking humans.‭ ‬How could I not like them if I’d used to‭ ‬be one‭? ‬Was it even safe to approach them‭?

It’d better be,‭ ‬I thought.‭ ‬My energy was starting to come back,‭ ‬and I felt more clear-headed now that I was sitting upright.‭ ‬But I still felt tired and thirsty,‭ ‬and my fur was too thick for this weather.‭ ‬I realized that I was panting,‭ ‬even though my tongue was dry‭; ‬I was probably dehydrated.

Slowly,‭ ‬I made myself stand up,‭ ‬then started out down the beach‭; ‬limping at first,‭ ‬as pins and needles left my feet,‭ ‬then at a steady pace.‭ ‬I tried to think through the haze,‭ ‬to figure out what I should do when I got up to them‭ ‬…‭ ‬who I should talk to,‭ ‬what I should say.‭ ‬Unwritten rules came back to me:‭ ‬Don’t ask random strangers for help.‭ ‬Don’t talk to them,‭ ‬don’t look at them,‭ ‬don’t bother them with your presence.‭ ‬Especially since you’re not normal.‭ ‬It’s your fault that you’re not normal. You’re being weird just to offend.

Wow.‭ ‬No wonder I didn’t like humans.

Sure enough,‭ ‬no one offered to help me,‭ ‬even as I limped right past them.‭ ‬Instead I got lifted sunglasses and bewildered stares,‭ ‬from people laying on their towels.‭ ‬Parents called their kids to come away from me,‭ ‬and the kids stared,‭ ‬too,‭ ‬once they saw me.

This is ridiculous,‭ ‬I thought,‭ ‬my face turning red beneath my fur.‭ ‬I wanted to just ask one of them if I could have something to drink,‭ ‬or if they’d seen me fall from the sky or wash up on the beach or knew what had happened to me.‭ ‬But what I guessed had to be a lifetime of conditioning prevented me,‭ ‬and made me feel their stares on my back.

I wanted to just grab someone and start asking questions.‭ ‬Somehow,‭ ‬I wasn’t afraid of doing so‭ ‬…‭ ‬they didn’t seem like a threat.‭ ‬I just felt like it wouldn’t be worth it.‭ ‬As long as there were humans around,‭ ‬I thought,‭ ‬there’d be humans in charge that I could talk to.‭ ‬Humans in uniforms,‭ ‬or sitting behind counters.‭ ‬Those were okay to demand things from,‭ ‬I remembered.‭ ‬Even unreasonable things.

There were shacks set up,‭ ‬farther down the beach.‭ ‬Their signs advertised hot dogs,‭ ‬ice cream and sno-cones.‭ ‬And once I got in line,‭ ‬the family in front of me quickly got out.‭ ‬It made my face burn again,‭ ‬but I was okay with that,‭ ‬I thought,‭ ‬as I strode to the head of the line.‭ ‬At least now I could get some ans-

“Justin‎!”

That was my name‭! ‬And I was a human,‭ ‬wearing a t-shirt and jeans.‭ ‬The otter who was calling it was being pulled away towards a cage,‭ ‬his arms and legs bound to his sides,‭ ‬tail limply brushing the black metal beneath.‭ ‬But what was doing it‭? ‬I couldn’t see anything‭!

I ran to him,‭ ‬my footsteps clanking on metal deck plates,‭ ‬and tried to free his arms from whatever was holding him.‭ ‬I felt‭ ‬something around him,‭ ‬like invisible claws wrapped tight around his fuzzy chest and his arms,‭ ‬and I tried to pry them away but they wouldn’t budge.‭ ‬I couldn’t even get a firm grip on them‭; ‬they felt like fast-rushing air,‭ ‬and they were slippery like ice.

I dug in my feet and strained,‭ ‬trying to pull him away,‭ ‬my face turned towards the stars past the consoles.‭ ‬Then I saw him:‭ ‬a bird of prey,‭ ‬with grey and white feathers and a black‭ “‬mask‭” ‬of feathers around his sharp beak.‭ ‬One of his taloned hands was clutching a deep blue jewel on a chain around his neck,‭ ‬and the other was stretched out towards‭ ‬–‭ ‬what was my otter‭ ‬friend’s name again‭? ‬–‭ ‬and gripping the air in its claws.

I could put two and two together.‭ ‬I ran at the falcon,‭ ‬head down,‭ ‬getting ready to tackle him-

WHAM.‭ ‬Something hit my side while I was running at him.‭ ‬I was sent sprawling on the floor,‭ ‬hands and feet twitching,‭ ‬smoke coming out of my charred clothing.

‎“‏Can’t let you do that,‭ ‬human.‭”

Smugness dripped from the silky male voice.‭ ‬I wanted to look,‭ ‬to see who it was,‭ ‬but I was paralyzed‭; ‬my limbs and my head just weren’t working.‭ ‬Besides that,‭ ‬I thought I remembered.‭ ‬It was right there just past-

Cage bars slammed into place,‭ ‬outside my field of vision.‭ ‬All I could see were the windows,‭ ‬and the blue arc of the world beneath us.‭ ‬The falcon relaxed his grip,‭ ‬and turned to look as a black cat stepped into view‭ ‬…‭ ‬the one who had just‭ ‬shot me.

Something was wrong about him.‭ ‬Something was crawling across his sleek fur,‭ ‬something black and oily and alive.‭ ‬It turned into a belt and a holster,‭ ‬as soon as he put his gun by his waist.‭ ‬I remembered that wasn’t the real threat,‭ ‬though.‭ ‬It was something I couldn’t see right now,‭ ‬something-

The room began to glow green,‭ ‬from somewhere past where I could turn my head.‭ “‬Oh hey,‭” ‬the cat said,‭ ‬turning to look.‭ “‬What do you know‭! ‬Brighter than ever,‭ ‬this time.‭ ‬The God of Destruction must like it when we‭ ‬destroy things.‭” ‬He grinned.

The falcon coughed,‭ ‬one fist to his beak.‭ “‬The human is still alive,‭ ‬sir.‭”

It was true‭ ‬…‭ ‬I was struggling to my feet,‭ ‬shaking my head to clear it.‭ ‬Ignoring the ringing in my ears,‭ ‬and the stinging pain in my side.‭ ‬The cat just gave me an amused look.‭ “‬Chaos must favor this one‭!” ‬he remarked,‭ ‬to the falcon.‭ “‬Or else‭ ‬you are more than you appear,‭” ‬he told me.‭ “‬Some kind of Adept‭? ‬A wild Talent‭?”

I looked to see where the glow was coming from.‭ ‬There was a dark,‭ ‬green gem,‭ ‬the size of a grapefruit,‭ ‬set into a console in front of the wall.‭ ‬And the ringing in my ears got louder‭ ‬as I squinted into its bright glow.

‎“‏You could always just shoot him again,‭ ‬sir‭ ‬…‭ ”

“Quiet,‎ ‏Tachyon.‭” ‬The cat waved one hand to hush his pet‭ (‬how did I know that‭?)‬.‭ ‬Then he looked at me.‭ “‬Well‭?” ‬the cat asked.‭ “‬Chaos has given you another chance.‭ ‬What are you going to do with it‭?”

I looked between him and my friend,‭ ‬inside the cage.‭ ‬His eyes were wide and staring at me.‭ ‬Then‭ ‬my eyes fixed on the gem again,‭ ‬now glowing brighter.‭ ‬It seemed familiar somehow‭ ‬…‭ ‬I remembered my friend finding it,‭ ‬showing it to me,‭ ‬wondering what he should do with it.‭ ‬Being kidnapped because of it.‭ ‬But the familiarity was more than that‭; ‬it was more like seeing your favorite old keyboard,‭ ‬or game controller,‭ ‬after digging it up in the attic.‭ ‬Remembering it,‭ ‬and realizing what it was for.

I began to stagger towards it.

‎“‏Ooh‭! ‬Going for the prize,‭ ‬are we‭?”

“Sir‎ ‏…‎ ”

“Hush‎!”

I was still staggering toward it,‭ ‬wishing that I could move faster.‭ ‬Then I stepped over a circle design on the floor,‭ ‬and a glass tube shot out from it all around me,‭ ‬going right up to the ceiling.‭ ‬The cat had his hand on a button,‭ ‬on one of the consoles,‭ ‬and the falcon had clasped his hands behind his back and was looking away.

‎“‏Chaos seemed to like it when you got shot,‭” ‬the cat said,‭ ‬his voice muffled and echoey.‭ “‬Let’s see how he likes this‭!”

My friend screamed,‭ ‬as I got shot out into space.

Everything was quiet for a moment.‭ ‬I floated there inside the tube,‭ ‬my hair and clothes drifting,‭ ‬no longer held down.‭ ‬I could see the huge planet below me,‭ ‬blue and white,‭ ‬and could see the tiny space station we’d left,‭ ‬tethered down to the world by a thread.

Then I saw something glow,‭ ‬on its surface.‭ ‬And a second later everything was fire and noise.

“Can I help you‎?” ‏the otter girl asked,‭ ‬from behind the counter.‭ ‬She was wearing an apron and cap.

I blinked,‭ ‬uncomprehending.‭ ‬Then something caught my eye,‭ ‬from below.‭ ‬A tablet,‭ ‬still turned on,‭ ‬that someone had left on their towel.‭ ‬Its screen was in the shadow of a nearby umbrella,‭ ‬and it was open to a news website,‭ ‬with a familiar picture on the front page.

‎“‏Sir‭?”

I picked up the tablet and looked at the picture,‭ ‬holding it beneath the umbrella.‭ ‬It was a grainy,‭ ‬satellite photo of the space station I had just left,‭ ‬and the explosion that I remembered.‭ ‬The headline read‭ “‬Hostage Meets Tragic End.‭”

“Sir‎ ‏…‎ ”

I caught a glimpse of my name,‭ ‬there in the first sentence.‭ ‬It was still bright out, so it was hard to read‭ ‬…‭ ‬and the shock I was now feeling was making it surreal.‭ ‬But even though I was distracted,‭ ‬my eyes scanned over the article looking for clues.‭ ‬Cultists‭ ‬…‭ ‬Tether Station‭ ‬…‭ ‬God of Destruction‭ ‬…‭ ‬Chaos.

‎“‏Hostage Meets Tragic End.‭”

The shock was beginning to crystallize,‭ ‬as I looked down at my arms holding the tablet.‭ ‬I could remember who I’d been,‭ ‬but it seemed so far away now.‭ ‬What’d happened‭? ‬Why did I look like this‭? ‬How the heck had I survived‭?

Somehow,‭ ‬I wasn’t sure it was important.‭ ‬It felt like I‭ ‬had died up there.‭ ‬Or the person I’d been had died,‭ ‬anyway.‭ ‬All that mattered was saving my friend‭, and beating the daylights out of that stupid cat‬.‭ ‬All that mattered was getting back to that station.

The otter behind the counter had gone back to cleaning it off.‭ ‬I held up the tablet to her, and pointed at the picture on it.‭ “‬Tell me how to get here,‭” ‬I said.‭ ‬My human life seemed like a blur,‭ ‬and I couldn’t remember things like that.

‎“‏Tether Station‭? ‬Um‭ ‬…‭ ” ‬Her eyes flicked out to the horizon,‭ ‬and I looked behind myself out where she was looking.‭ ‬There was an island,‭ ‬out there in the bay.‭ ‬And a thin,‭ ‬black line,‭ ‬stretching up from it into the sky.

‎“‏Thank you,‭” ‬I told her,‭ ‬remembering my manners.‭ ‬I set the tablet back down on the towel,‭ ‬before another phrase came back to me.‭ “‬Do you have free ice water‭?”

For some reason,‭ ‬my instinct was still to try things the human way first.‭ ‬That’s why I spent the next hour or so trudging through grassy sand,‭ ‬heading towards the dock for the ferry that went to the island.

Of course,‭ ‬it was closed.‭ ‬It‭ ‬would be closed,‭ ‬given what was happening up there.

The boat sat there moored in the water,‭ ‬past a shack and the vacant parking lot.‭ “‬It looks kinda low-scale and tourist-y,‭” ‬my human memories told me.‭ “‬The people who can actually afford a ticket to the Station probably get to the island by air.‭”

Well,‭ ‬that wasn’t an option,‭ ‬seeing as how I couldn’t fly.‭ ‬For a moment I thought of commandeering the boat,‭ ‬but my human memories protested that I wouldn’t know how to operate it.‭ ‬So that ruled that out,‭ ‬too.

I stood‭ ‬there at the top of the hill overlooking the parking lot,‭ ‬my arms folded,‭ ‬looking out at the island.‭ ‬The sun was behind clouds now and the wind was starting to pick up,‭ ‬and the breeze fluffed out my quills.‭ ‬It was refreshing,‭ ‬and I closed my eyes and enjoyed it for a few seconds.‭ ‬I was still hungry,‭ ‬but I was more impatient.‭ ‬Somehow,‭ ‬I needed to get out there.

Seagulls called overhead as I‭ ‬hopped the barrier across the road and walked down to the parking lot.‭ ‬Then I sat down on one of those concrete speed bumps‭ ‬at the end of each parking space,‭ ‬took off my shoes and emptied them of sand.‭ ‬As I did so,‭ ‬something clicked,‭ ‬and I knew how I was going to get across.‭ ‬And for a moment it was surprising,‭ ‬but then I realized it shouldn’t be.

Looking back on it,‭ ‬I’m surprised I didn’t have an existential crisis right there.‭ ‬What did this all mean‭? ‬What had I become‭? ‬Was I myself anymore‭? ‬As it turned out,‭ ‬I had been all along,‭ ‬not that I knew that at the time.‭ ‬I just wasn’t concerned with thinking about things like that.‭ ‬All that I was concerned with was getting up to that station and saving my friend.‭ ‬I could worry about the hard questions later.‭ ‬For now,‭ ‬if my instincts helped me get up there,‭ ‬I would act on them.

I put my shoes back on and walked back up to the gatehouse,‭ ‬then turned around and fixed my eyes on the island out in the distance.‭ ‬I leaned over and assumed a runner’s crouch,‭ ‬my mind clear of distractions,‭ ‬my eyes still locked on the island.‭ ‬Then I started counting in my head.

3‎ ‏…

Go.

I took off.

It felt like riding a bicycle downhill.‭ ‬In seconds I’d cleared the parking lot,‭ ‬and was out on a sandbar running past the boat.‭ ‬I was going fast and my feet were pumping like mad,‭ ‬but it felt like they weighed nothing.‭ ‬There was no effort involved.

I pushed myself,‭ ‬as my feet touched wet sand.‭ ‬Wind screamed past my ears and flattened my quills to my forehead,‭ ‬and it began to feel like a physical barrier that I needed to push past.‭ ‬So I did,‭ ‬putting on a sudden burst of energy right as I cleared the shoreline.‭ ‬I shot out over the water like a rocket,‭ ‬a comet-like field of energy flowing around my front half like a bubble and trailing behind me in streaks.‭ ‬The air around me felt calm,‭ ‬and the water felt like it was solid,‭ ‬even though I was barely touching it.

I put on another burst of speed,‭ ‬suddenly afraid of the water,‭ ‬not wanting to slow down and drown.‭ ‬When I got within sight of the island’s shoreline,‭ ‬I could see it was much bigger than it’d looked‭ ‬…‭ ‬there were boats,‭ ‬landed airplanes,‭ ‬a whole slew of buildings.‭ ‬And there were army vehicles parked just past the beach.‭ ‬Would I have to fight my way past them to get up there‭?

Not if they can’t catch me,‭ ‬I thought.

The lines and dots on the beach resolved into fences,‭ ‬vans with antennae on top,‭ ‬and camouflage-colored vehicles.‭ ‬I jumped as soon as my feet touched the sand and then I somersaulted in midair,‭ ‬clearing the barbed-wire fence and landing back in a run without breaking my stride.‭ ‬A person carrying a microphone and talking into a camera had her hair blown back as I ran past,‭ ‬ignoring them and the soldiers in uniform and making my way towards the tether.

Alarm sirens sounded as I ran in a spiral,‭ ‬up the road that led to the tether.‭ ‬A truck was blocking my way,‭ ‬right up next to the gate,‭ ‬so I sidestepped around it and ducked under the road barrier.‭ ‬Then I ran towards the base of the tether:‭ ‬a big,‭ ‬square platform,‭ ‬indented into the ground and made of black metal.‭ ‬It reminded me of subway tracks.‭ ‬Something that traveled the tether was meant to land here,‭ ‬I thought.‭ ‬Something big.‭ ‬And it wasn’t parked here,‭ ‬so that meant it was still up there.‭ ‬Because I took it up there,‭ ‬I thought.

The sirens kept wailing as I stopped at the edge of the platform,‭ ‬looking down at the bowl-like indentation inside it and at the exposed machinery.‭ ‬Then I looked up at the tether itself.‭ ‬It was less than an inch thick,‭ ‬and made of black cable.‭ ‬How was I supposed to get up that‭? ‬Would I even be able to survive if I could‭? ‬That shield I’d created had seemed to trap air around me‭ ‬…‭ ‬would it block out cosmic rays,‭ ‬and scorching temperatures‭?

Somehow,‭ ‬I still wasn’t worried.‭ ‬I was still just acting on instinct.‭ ‬People were shouting at me from behind,‭ ‬and I heard weapons being cocked and machines being moved into position,‭ ‬but none of it bothered me as much as the fact that my friend was still in trouble.

I remembered reading about how the tether tram used magnetic levitation,‭ ‬like trains.‭ ‬Somehow,‭ ‬that was all that my instincts needed.‭ ‬I jumped down into the‭ “‬bowl‭” ‬inside the platform and curled into a ball as I did so,‭ ‬rolling inside it and starting to pick up speed.‭ ‬My fur and my quills stood on end,‭ ‬and the air around my ears crackled,‭ ‬as something inside me reacted with what I was rolling on.

I kept going around in circles,‭ ‬faster and faster,‭ ‬propelled by the reaction.‭ ‬And the crackling became more intense‭ ‬until I broke through just like I had while running,‭ ‬and could feel myself surrounded by the comet trail again.‭ ‬I couldn’t see or hear anything outside of the ball I was rolled in,‭ ‬but just felt the rush of speed and energy,‭ ‬and the circular track I was rolling in.

I leaned myself towards the inside of the track,‭ ‬towards the tether itself.‭ ‬Then gravity shifted,‭ ‬and all of a sudden I was flying upwards,‭ ‬not even touching the tether but somehow guided along it … rolling around it in circles, as I continued to shoot upwards.

I did not‭ ‬dare open my eyes.‭ ‬I didn’t do anything except try to force myself to keep making that field around me,‭ ‬and it didn’t help that I didn’t know how.‭ ‬All I know is that as I kept going the light around me got brighter and brighter,‭ ‬and I could feel burning warmth on one side of me and freezing cold on the other.‭ ‬The only thing that kept me from dying to either was the fact that I was still spinning around so fast.‭ ‬It felt like a carnival ride,‭ ‬and I was pretty sure I was going to throw up afterwards.

I don’t know how long it lasted.‭ ‬I just remember long minutes of silence.

Eventually I thought‭ “‬What am I going to do when I reach the end‭?‬” Then I reached it,‭ ‬as the tether drifted away behind me and I reflexively uncurled.‭ ‬To one side of me was a bright,‭ ‬white and blue wall,‭ ‬three-dimensional wisps of cloud casting shadows on the world beneath.‭ ‬To the other side was the Milky Way,‭ ‬every last star visible.

There was no station in sight.‭ ‬And the shield still around me was dim,‭ ‬and starting to flicker.

Now,‭ ‬you know I survived,‭ ‬or I wouldn’t be telling you this.‭ ‬And frankly,‭ ‬after seeing what’s already happened,‭ ‬I doubt if you’d be surprised anyway.

At the time,‭ ‬though,‭ ‬I was freaked out.‭ ‬My backside was numbing with frostbite, while my face‭ ‬–‭ ‬and the hand I‭ was ‬shielding my eyes with‭ ‬–‭ ‬felt like it was next to the oven,‭ ‬with the door left hanging open.‭ ‬I had only seconds to figure out what to do,‭ ‬but I couldn’t think of anything.‭ ‬I was really scared for my life.

But on another level,‭ ‬I was annoyed.‭ ‬I didn’t feel like I’d just been spaced,‭ ‬I felt like I had been cut off in traffic.‭ ‬Or scratched by an annoying black cat.‭ ‬It was running off with something important to me,‭ ‬and I wanted it back.

I could feel the emerald out there.‭ ‬And as the station crossed between me and the sun,‭ ‬I looked up at its silhouette,‭ ‬and‭ ‬…‭ ‬it’s like I grabbed onto the emerald,‭ ‬somehow,‭ ‬and started pulling myself towards it.

‎“‏Um,‭ ‬sir‭?‬” It was that bird’s voice! Tachyon’s. It sounded tinny and metallic. Was I hearing what was inside the room where the emerald was?

“One step ahead of you,‭” the cat said.

I saw bright flashes on the underside of the station.‭ ‬Then there was fire and noise again,‭ ‬deep rumblings as my shield shook.‭ ‬Sparks filled my vision as I was sent tumbling.

I didn’t care.‭ ‬I made the gem inside the station‭ “‬down‭” ‬and fell towards it again,‭ ‬face-first,‭ ‬my shield glowing like a comet’s trail.‭ ‬Sparks flew off of it,‭ ‬and I could feel myself being deflected by whatever that thing was shooting at me.‭ ‬But as it floated past the sun,‭ ‬and everything‭ “‬beneath‭” ‬me turned into a blaze of light,‭ ‬I just made myself keep falling towards it.‭ ‬Pulled to it by the emerald.

The sun was blocked out by black metal,‭ ‬a solid shape in the light.‭ ‬It got bigger and bigger,‭ ‬until finally-

SLAM

I‭ ‬bounced off of it.‭ ‬Well,‭ ‬not exactly bounced‭ ‬…‭ ‬I smashed through it like a bullet.‭ ‬And I got a brief glimpse of lights and deck plates before I was shot back out the way I’d came,‭ ‬the explosive decompression sucking me out into the vacuum.

‎“‏Okay,‭” ‬I thought,‭ ‬in between being shot out and being pulled back by the emerald.‭ “‬This is a little silly.‭”

Some kind of blast doors were closing across the hole that I’d made.‭ ‬I flattened myself horizontally,‭ ‬and‭ “‬fell‭” ‬inside just as they shut,‭ ‬tumbling sideways across the deck as the station’s gravity pulled me that way.‭ ‬Then there was a sound like a dozen blow-dryers,‭ ‬and my fur and quills were fluffed out by air jets before I heard a robotic male voice:‭ “‬Hull breach in sector‭ ‬208‭ ‬sealed.‭ ‬Sector‭ ‬208‭ ‬repressurized.‭ ‬Intruder in sector‭ ‬208.‭”

I could hear the voices in the room with the emerald talking again,‭ ‬but somehow it seemed‭ ‬noisier inside the station.‭ ‬I couldn’t make them out.‭ “‬Oh well,‭” ‬I thought,‭ ‬as I stood back on my feet and my shield flickered out.‭ “‬I know what direction the emerald is in‭ ‬…‭ ‬and that’s all that I need to know.‭”

“Hull breach in sector‭ ‬114.‭ ‬Hull breach in sector‭ ‬58.‭ ‬Hull breach in sector‭ ‬27.‭”

My spines were like chainsaws.‭ ‬I made myself spin in place somehow,‭ ‬just like I did to get up there,‭ ‬then I shot myself through closed doors and uncurled on the other side.‭ ‬I tried on the walls once or twice,‭ ‬but weird liquids and sparks shot out before I’d even broke through.‭ ‬The doors just folded and clattered in pieces around me.

Everything was black metal and colored lights.‭ ‬Alarm sirens and map displays,‭ ‬in multi-level hallways with windows set into the walls.‭ ‬I couldn’t believe anyone could live someplace like this‭ ‬…‭ ‬even the potted plants were plastic.‭ ‬It was so sterile and fake. Sort of like human social rules.

Another locked door.‭ ‬I smashed through and uncurled to see silver,‭ ‬four-legged robots,‭ ‬stopped in mid-strike,‭ ‬looking at me and shining red lights in my face.‭ ‬A corner of my mind could remember being scared to death by these things‭; ‬sneaking down hallways behind them,‭ ‬shooting at them just to distract them,‭ ‬bullets clanging off of their armor.

Right now,‭ ‬I just wanted them‭ ‬gone.‭ ‬So I charged through them,‭ ‬into an explosion of noise and gunfire and shearing metal,‭ ‬and sparks flying off of my shield.‭ ‬I came out the other side and looked back at the wreckage,‭ ‬just in time to see one robot collapse.

There was a scythe in my hand,‭ ‬shining metal with a jeweled hilt.‭ ‬It weighed nothing.‭ ‬Where had it come from‭? ‬I guessed that it must have appeared somehow,‭ ‬when I’d decided to destroy those robots.‭ ‬I tried to tear into the next door with it,‭ ‬but it got stuck there and I struggled with it.‭ ‬So I let go,‭ ‬and it disappeared.

I stopped there for a moment to catch my breath,‭ ‬and I jumped as something sparked.‭ ‬Deep down inside,‭ ‬I was still frightened and numb with shock,‭ ‬like I’d almost drowned.‭ ‬I still remembered‭ ‬running for my life from those things.‭ ‬And from Shadow,‭ ‬and Tachyon,‭ ‬and‭ ‬…‭ ‬and‭ ‬…

I looked down at myself,‭ ‬at my gloved hands and furred arms.‭ ‬What was I‭ ‬doing here‭? ‬What’d happened to me‭? ‬I’d-

Another loud spark,‭ ‬and an explosion from inside a dead robot’s chest.‭ ‬I jumped,‭ ‬and shielded my face.‭ ‬Then,‭ ‬after a long second of cringing,‭ ‬I smacked myself to snap myself out of it.‭ “‬Argh‭!” ‬I said.‭ “‬What am I thinking‭? ‬I can’t afford to have a crisis right now‭! ‬I need to get upstairs,‭ ‬to that emerald,‭ ‬to my friend‭ ‬…‭ ”

SLAM.‭ “‬Hull breach in sector‭ ‬8.‭”

I didn’t want to accidentally maim my friend‭ (‬what was his name,‭ ‬anyway‭?)‬,‭ ‬so instead of sawing through the door with my spines I took the scythe to it.‭ ‬It took me a second to get it to appear‭; ‬I had to just want to break down the door, without thinking about how.

I lodged my scythe in the door,‭ ‬then tore it out of the wall and sent it flying down the hallway.‭ ‬On the other side was a startled-looking Tachyon,‭ ‬his feathers ruffled and wingtips clutching the gem around his neck‭ ‬…‭ ‬and past him,‭ ‬a cat giving me an angry glare,‭ ‬next to the cage that my friend was in.

‎“‏Tachyon,‭” ‬Shadow said,‭ “‬destroy him.‭”

The falcon looked up at my scythe,‭ ‬then back at Shadow.‭ ‬After that he stepped out of the way.‭ “‬You first,‭” ‬he said.

‎“‏Fine.‭” ‬Shadow grabbed up Chaos‭’ ‬Emerald,‭ ‬from the console it was set into.‭ “‬I’ll just kill you next.‭”

He held out the emerald,‭ ‬clawing it in a vicelike grip.‭ ‬And my fur and my quills stood on end,‭ ‬as there was this rush like air across a cave entrance,‭ ‬and everything in the room except him and the glowing gem faded out and became dark.‭ ‬It was surreal,‭ ‬and I think that if he’d done that when I was human‭ ‬I would’ve grovelled for mercy right there.

I could remember being afraid of Shadow.‭ ‬There was part of me that was still scared of him.‭ ‬But even as ominous as he seemed,‭ ‬I didn’t feel like I was heading for certain death,‭ ‬or even a climactic showdown.‭ ‬It felt more like I’d cornered an unruly cat beneath a stairwell. He’d scratched my friend and run off with something of mine,‭ ‬and I wanted it back.

I launched myself across the void at him, and brought my scythe down hard enough to pierce metal.‭ ‬A shield bubble came up around him out of the gem,‭ ‬like mine but emerald green,‭ ‬and it rippled like water but didn’t break.‭ ‬Streamers of energy danced between it and the gem in Shadow’s claws.

I swung my scythe at his shield again and again,‭ ‬and I could see Shadow strain but his shield wasn’t breaking.‭ ‬Then it disappeared and he leaped at me,‭ ‬his claws slashing bright green arcs through the darkness.‭ ‬The trails of light burned into my retinas and nearly blinded me,‭ ‬as I tried to sidestep and parry using my scythe.

Sparks flew,‭ ‬as his claws clashed with my shield and the handle.‭ ‬Then he tore my scythe’s handle in two and brought his claws across my chest,‭ ‬before pouncing me with his back feet and jumping off that way,‭ ‬rolling and coming up in a crouch.

I touched my chest,‭ ‬where his foot-claws had drawn blood,‭ ‬and it stung. My gloves came up stained red.

I looked up at Shadow,‭ ‬and he hissed and held out the gem at me.‭ ‬And it began to draw energy into it,‭ ‬as if focusing for an attack.

‎“‏To heck with this,‭” ‬I thought,‭ ‬and tossed the pieces of my scythe away.‭ ‬I spun in place the way that I’d done to break down the doors,‭ ‬revving and charging and building my shield around me.‭ ‬Then I let myself fly at him,‭ ‬right as he released the energy he’d been building up.

There was a smashing noise,‭ ‬loud as a thunderclap,‭ ‬as I bounced off of him and across the floor and smacked into the wall.‭ ‬When I came up on one elbow the room was normally lighted,‭ ‬and there was a black scorch mark on the floor where we had collided.‭ ‬I had a headache,‭ ‬but Shadow looked even more out of it than I was.‭ ‬He was on his back moaning,‭ ‬his tail twitching,‭ ‬the gem a foot away from his hand.

Tachyon‭ stood ‬right next to me,‭ ‬watching the gem.‭ ‬He looked down at me nervously,‭ ‬and for a second it looked like he was going to go help Shadow.‭ ‬I grunted and got to my feet before he could move,‭ ‬and went over and picked up the emerald in one gloved hand.‭ ‬I tucked it under my elbow before grabbing Shadow by the scruff of his neck,‭ ‬holding him out in front of me and shaking him.

‎“‏I don’t remember why this blasted gem is so important.‭ ‬But I remember I used to be human.‭” ‬Somehow,‭ ‬I couldn’t look at my friend while I said that.‭ “‬Tell me what’s happened to me‭!”

“ …‎ ‏hwah‭?” ‬It looked like he was cross-eyed.‭ ‬He tried to rub his face with both hands,‭ ‬but his movements were slow and sluggish.

‎“‏Tell me what’s going on‭!‬” I screamed it at him.‭ ‬I hadn’t realized how mad I was,‭ ‬or how scared.

He just giggled,‭ ‬drunkenly,‭ ‬and made a clumsy attempt to reach for the emerald in my other arm.‭ ‬I threw him over the consoles,‭ ‬and he smacked into the floor next to the window.‭ ‬Then I stood there fuming,‭ ‬still unable to face my friend,‭ ‬still unable to so much as remember his name.‭ ‬After a long moment of this I realized I was clutching the gem in both arms and hugging it like a plushie,‭ ‬but I didn’t care.

‎“‏He thinks he’s Chaos,‭” ‬said a quiet voice.‭ ‬I looked over to see Tachyon next to the door,‭ ‬one wingtip pressed to the edge like he was getting ready to leave.

‎“ ‏…‎ ‏and he isn’t‭?” ‬I wasn’t sure where he was going with this.

‎“‏Chaos,‭” ‬Tachyon repeated.‭ “‬The God of Destruction.‭” ‬He said it like this was supposed to clear things up.

I gave him a long,‭ ‬annoyed look.‭ ‬He gulped audibly,‭ ‬and tried to explain,‭ ‬looking away and edging closer to the door.‭ “‬Shadow believes that he’s Chaos reborn.‭ ‬There are legends‭ ‬…‭ ‬and things‭ ‬…‭ ” ‬A sweatdrop had formed on his feathers.‭ “‬He was trying to fulfill them.‭ ‬He thought he’d assume his true form.‭”

“What‎ ‘‏true form‭?’”

Tachyon brought his eyes up from the floor,‭ ‬and gave me a long,‭ ‬meaningful look.‭ ‬And my face turned red beneath my new fur,‭ ‬as‭ ‬I realized what he meant. I had become this Chaos that they were obsessed with. That Shadow had thought he was.

It felt like I’d just been told I was on a hidden-camera show.‭ ‬Everything I’d done up to that point,‭ ‬everything since I’d fallen from the sky,‭ ‬all of it was living out this cat’s dreams.‭ ‬My friend had been used,‭ ‬I had been‭ ‬killed,‭ ‬and the only reason they were taking me seriously now was because I wasn’t‭ ‬me anymore.‭ ‬I was‭ ‬…

But wait.‭ ‬Hadn’t he said‭ ‘‬true form‭’? ‬Then that would explain why everything came so naturally‭ ‬…‭ ‬and why my memories were so hazy.‭ ‬It wasn’t like normal amnesia,‭ ‬it was more like I’d just woken up from a dream.‭ ‬And the dream world was starting to fade,‭ ‬as I remembered the waking world.

In that case,‭ ‬this‭ was what‬ I’d always been,‭ ‬before I’d fallen asleep somehow.‭ ‬And these jerks had some kind of whole stupid belief system where I was an icon to them.‭ ‬Because I couldn’t care less if that cat didn’t get to live out his precious power fantasies,‭ ‬and pretend to be me‭ ‬–‭ ‬or try to become me‭ ‬–‭ ‬and hurt people like my friend.‭ ‬I just wanted to get him out of there,‭ ‬and wait for my head to clear and my memories to return before I decided what to do next.

God of Destruction‭? ‬If I met any more people like that cat,‭ ‬I’d show‭ ‬them a God of Destruction.

I gave the falcon a cold glare,‭ ‬and he cringed,‭ ‬literally hugging the edge of the doorway and trying to shield himself from me.

‎“‏Tell me the quickest way off of this station,‭” ‬I told him.

‎“‏C-‭” ‬He coughed.‭ “‬Chaos‭’ ‬Control‭?”

“Which is‎?”

He cringed even further,‭ ‬as though unable to speak.‭ ‬But his eyes locked on the emerald, and memories of how to use it came back to me.‭ ‬“Okay,‭” ‬I said.‭ “‬Get out of here.‭”

He stumbled around the corner and fled,‭ ‬claws clicking.‭ ‬Then I turned around,‭ ‬and looked down at the cage that my friend the otter was crouched in.‭ “‬Hey,‭” ‬I said.

‎“ ‏…‎ ‏Justin‭?” ‬His eyes were wide.

‎“‏Kinda.‭” ‬I made the scythe appear again,‭ ‬and he jumped back.‭ ‬But I just used it to cut off the padlock,‭ ‬then tossed it away and pulled open the door before helping my friend out.‭ ‬He was a little taller than I was,‭ ‬and his fur was ragged and unwashed.‭ ‬I hugged him anyway,‭ ‬and while I could feel his heart racing it seemed to have settled down a bit by the time that I let go.

‎“‏W-what happened to you‭?” ‬he asked.

‎“‏I don’t know,‭ ‬and I don’t care.‭ ‬Now,‭ ‬hold still.‭ ‬We’re getting out of here.‭”

I held the gem up in one hand,‭ ‬and took his hand in the other.‭ ‬The cat started moaning again,‭ ‬and I turned to glare at him for a second before closing my eyes‭ ‬…

…‎ ‏and vanishing.

A blue light turns on, on its rim. Then its glass front lights up, and on top of its menu of apps an overlay reads “1 NEW MESSAGE” next to an envelope icon. After a moment it blanks, and the blue light pulses softly as rain continues to pour outside.

I did not want to get up that morning.

Yes, I heard that one tiger going around the camp shouting for everyone to get up. That’s what woke me up in the first place. I’ve always been a light sleeper, and he has a good set of lungs besides. I just didn’t want to climb out of my sleeping bag. Because I was still groggy, and because I’d been having the most amazing dream.

I was an anthro in my dream, but I wasn’t an anthro animal. I was an anthro dragon. As in golden scales, leathery wings … that kind of dragon. I was flying over a bay somewhere, right up next to the water’s surface, getting the spray in my face. Dipping my clawtips into the water as I flew past it, feeling my wingtips touch it as they beat. I took a deep breath and breathed fire in front of me, an enormous jet like a flamethrower, and I inhaled the mist that it kicked up and felt it on my scales.

I remember I was flying towards a city across the bay, someplace huge with a lot of lights. Then I was inside the city, and these people were trying to catch me for some reason. But I instinctively used some kind of magic powers, shooting these things like ball lightning at them and leaping so high I could clear traffic lights. I still remember the rush from jumping up so high, and then coming back down and touching the pavement.

They were still on my trail somehow, so I used some other ability to make myself blend in with the crowd, even though I still looked like a dragon to myself. I remember my pursuers pushed past me, looking for me, and I just grinned at them-

“GET UP!”

He was right outside my tent that time. I jumped, entangling myself in my sleeping bag, then flopped back down and groaned. My heart was racing and my hair was frazzled, but my eyes did not want to open.

I fumbled around for my glasses, putting them on and trying to straighten my hair out. Then I stepped outside of my sleeping bag, and into a puddle right next to the door. Moaning, I dug in my pack for a towel while trying to keep my foot still, so as not to get anything else wet. I put the towel down and used my foot to push it around a little, trying to dry my toes off …

That’s when I noticed the light on my phone was on.

A minute later I ran out of there, rushing to finish my morning routine and get breakfast. I didn’t think about the pancakes I was eating, the sun in my eyes, or the inchworm crawling up the bench next to me. And it didn’t even bother me to have to sit next to Ann and Aisha. The two coyotes were gabbing on like they always were, but my eyes were on the phone’s screen, thumb scrolling through text as I ate there on autopilot.

Aisha’s hairbeads jangled as she turned her head to look down at me. “What’re you looking at?” she asked.

I immediately locked my phone, the screen blanking. “Stuff,” I said.

“What kind of stuff?” Ann asked, from around her.

“Just stuff,” I said, even though it wasn’t just anything. I was speaking on auto too, my mind still on the message.

“I bet it’s his SpaceBook page.” Aisha nudged Ann. “He got a new girlfriend online, and now that’s all he can think about.”

They squealed, and started talking about who she might be and what she must be like. I finished the rest of my breakfast quickly, and put my dishes into the bin where that one deer was scrubbing them before walking to a safe distance. I quickly read the message, remembering the time before It had happened.

I remembered the homeschool group my mom used to have me in. She taught me at home, so my only classmates were my brother and sisters. But every few weeks we’d get together with the kids from the other families in our group, and do something like bowling or roller skating.

I know the stereotype of the homeschooled kid is that he doesn’t know how to socialize. But a lot of the kids there were friendly and outgoing. I was the odd one out because of how shy I was and because of my interests. And I remembered the girls that I’d wanted to talk to — the ones who’d occasionally taken pity on me, and asked me to dance or asked what I was working on — and wondered which one had emailed me. She’d remembered what group we’d been in, but she hadn’t mentioned her name. Not that I remembered any of their names; I’m horrible with things like that.

Work began as usual soon after breakfast. The horses and bears and other big anthros chopped wood, lugged things around, and drew plows through the muddy fields. I heard gunshots echo through the woods, as that tiger and his brother brought down their new kills. And I got soaked with sweat and with condensation, dragging coolers and ice around and biking them out to the fields where the anthros were working. A couple times I had to turn back around, because I was so lost in my thoughts I just about rode out of camp.

What would I say to her? I wondered. How would I answer each question? I mean, I knew why I wasn’t an anthro yet — the kinds that were easy to get didn’t appeal to me, and the tougher ones didn’t make sense. All the species I actually liked were too hard for me to get, and I liked being human, besides. I wouldn’t trade it for dragging a plow through the mud like the cattle were, at any rate, and living in close proximity to members of the other local species had taken away much of their appeal. I didn’t know what I wanted … I just knew that I wasn’t ready yet.

My legs were sore from biking through mud, as I walked my bike up the hill for lunchtime. I kicked off some of the crud on the tires and tied my bike to a post before walking to Alvin’s trailer to get my phone back from him, shielding my eyes from the glare on his solar panels. My phone had recharged, and I knew I would need it at lunch.

For lunch I sat next to Melinda, the big cow anthro who runs the camp and sews half of everyone’s clothing. She was talking to her husband while eating, and I kind of pushed around my mac and cheese while thinking about what to say. I kept scrolling through words on the screen, writing and rewriting answers in my head but not ready to put them down yet.

Before I knew it, Melinda was stacking her dishes and getting up. “Zach?” she asked.

I looked up, my face blank and my mind elsewhere.

“Zach, finish and put up your dishes. You can play with your phone later.”

That was Melinda … everyone’s mom. But there was no arguing with her. I put my phone up and kept thinking about what to say while I ate.

The rest of the day’s chores took way too long. I kept checking the time on my watch. Every now and then I would steal away and try to type something out, but someone would always catch me and ask me to help them with something. I’d gotten a reputation last year for tiring easily and taking breaks to play games on my phone, so I got teased about that a lot that afternoon. I just ignored them, lost in my thoughts.

Dinner was yet another outdoor meal, since there were no signs of rainclouds. I ate slowly, tired and worn out, and tried to focus my brain on the message. But it wouldn’t, and I knew that I’d have to just finish and sit down someplace quiet. I put up my dishes and wandered off, knowing that I would miss out on dessert. Knowing I needed some time to myself to think.

I sat down on the big stump that they use for chopping wood. Then I leaned back on it and looked up at the sky. I lay there for a long time, long enough to notice it start to get dark.

Finally, I sat up and wrote.

“Hello!

“And no, I’m still a human … don’t want to be one of the horses or oxen (ugh), don’t like the other local species that much.”

I paused for a moment, thumbs poised above the glass screen, thinking. Remembering my dream from last night.

“If I had the choice I’d go with something like ‘dragon’. Wouldn’t that be awesome? Seriously.

“– Zach”

I tapped “Send,” and looked up at the sky. It was dark, and I could see the first stars now. It occurred to me I was chilly.

People shouted to each other in a friendly way, from the fire way back at the camp. I waited another long moment before pocketing my phone and heading back there, hoping they still had some homemade marshmallows.

That night, Zach has the dream again, the one where he is a dragon. This is the fourth time now that he’s had it. His pursuers still haven’t caught him, and he’s learned even more abilities.

“How would you like to become a dragon?”

Crickets chirped. Owls hooted. Mosquitoes buzzed next to my ears.

I shooed them away, then straightened out my headset and made sure it was attached to my phone correctly before laying back down on the stump. I could see the full moon overhead, but it only disgusted me. The full moon was supposed to be good for transformations, but nothing had happened last night.

I sighed. “This hasn’t been working … ”

“It will,” said Laura, over my headset. Her voice sounded older and more determined than mine.

“This is the third time you’ve tried to walk me through this.”

“Practice makes perfect.”

I didn’t argue. I didn’t want to argue. I didn’t have any energy left. I’d spent all day hauling ice water back and forth, and had been up late two nights in a row already, trying to do this. I finally just groaned and let my body go limp, sprawling out across the wide stump and trying to get comfortable. Another mosquito buzzed at my ear, but I was too drowsy to care.

“Okay,” she said. “Close your eyes, and take five deep breaths.”

I counted them, exhaling right next to the microphone. One … two … three … four … five.

“Let your body go limp, and relax.”

I’d already done so most of the way. Now I withdrew all of my energy from it, controlling nothing except for my breathing.

She spoke, setting the stage … making it seem like I was someplace else, a place where anything could happen. Then describing the changes; skin turning to scales, fingertips becoming claws. Wings sprouting. Face elongating.

It was the same routine as the last couple of nights. The same hypnotic suggestions. But something different happened this time. I actually felt it. Not in the hazy way that you feel things in dreams, either. I mean my skin was crawling, my breath was racing, and I was excited but scared because something was happening to me. I gripped the edge of the stump with my hands and felt claws dig into it, as wings unfolded where I lay and spread to either side of me.

I think she could tell what was happening to me, because her voice seemed more confident than last night. “Now, stand,” she commanded. And I obeyed, slowly, not wanting to break the spell.

Looking back on it, that’s when things started to get murky. I mean, the feelings were all there, of having tight scales and claws and new limbs. But my muzzle was blurry in front of me, and while I could see golden scales on bare arms in the moonlight I couldn’t focus on them.

Laura asked me a question. I don’t remember what it was. I was still exploring these new feelings, my wings folding and tail swishing behind me. Worried that talking, or moving my muzzle, would make everything go away.

She asked me another question, but I still wasn’t listening. There was something I had to do, despite how fragile everything was … something I needed to know.

I got out my phone, the screen blanked to save power during a call. I turned around slowly, until the moon could shine on its glass face. Then I tilted it in my hand until I could see my reflection.

My eyes met with a dark, shapeless mass.

That’s when the world fell apart. It was like my new body shattered; like all my scales were torn off. I writhed on the grass clutching my ears and my arms. Everything, from the soft grass to my clothes, stung and burned where it touched my skin. I cried out in pain.

“What’s wrong?” Laura asked. But her voice seemed a million times louder. I tore off the headset and threw it aside, still attached to my cellphone. Then I started whimpering, still rocking back and forth, in so much pain that I was starting to grow numb.

I should’ve known, I thought. I should’ve known.

They found me the next day. I’d spent the whole night in agony, surging and waning as I tried in vain to ignore it. By sunrise it had mostly gone away, but every time that one tiger shouted I had to clutch my ears, even through it was a long way away.

I was completely useless that day. I tried to curl up in my tent, but I couldn’t get back to sleep. The sunlight was too bright, the inside of my sleeping bag was too warm, and every sound was too piercing. I alternated between covering my eyes and ears until my arm muscles got sore, wishing that I had earplugs, or a real bed, or even a snack. But I couldn’t make myself get up. I had no energy. I felt terrible.

The worst part was I was so tired that the whole world seemed like a dream. I could remember that wonderful dream, could remember the feelings I’d had last night, but I couldn’t make them come back. Why couldn’t I? The world seemed so unfair.

I thought of all of the anthros out there in the camp … bigger, stronger, and seemingly more important than me. I thought of them all, and I wished that I could be a dragon.

That evening I finally caught a few hours of dreamless sleep. I staggered out while everyone was gathered around the firepit, and managed to get leftovers out of the coolers. I wasn’t as hungry as I’d thought I was, but it’d been awhile. I didn’t go anywhere near the fire because it was so bright and the people around it were so loud.

Finally, it occurred to me to check my email and voice mail. I hesitated at first, because of what’d happened last night. But I had one new voice message, so I finally put on my headset, turned the volume almost all the way down, and listened.

“Hi, Zach,” said Laura’s voice. “I don’t know what happened last night, but it sounded like you got hurt. I hope you’re okay.

“I wanted to make sure that you’re one of my kind before telling you about this. That’s why I asked about your dreams, and why I used the ancient rituals to awaken your dragon side. You can put it to sleep again, just like it’s been sleeping your whole life and living in dreams. I won’t blame you if you do. But if you don’t, then please come with me. I need your help.”

There was a pause. I could hear her breathing, and feel sweat dripping down my sides.

“Don’t tell the humans,” she warned. “Or the animals they’ve become. Because if you do, I’ll come back here as a dragon, and I’ll kill you myself.”

There was a click, and the voice mail ended.

I sat there limp, leaning up against the outer wall of the shed, feeling as scared and powerless as I had last night.

Feeling afraid of her. And feeling afraid of myself.

Somewhere in between the camp and the city, a red-haired young woman curses, and throws her smartphone into her pack. “Argh, I’m so stupid!” she shouts. “Why did I tell him that? Why did I say all of it? No one would ever believe me!”

Finally she sits down on her sleeping bag, digs out her smartphone and starts playing a game to distract herself. It’s going to be a long night.

“Melinda?”

“Yes?” She looked up from her knitting. Her husband was apparently getting ready for bed or something; she was one of the only ones left at the fire.

I hesitated for a long moment, not sure how to go about this. But she was still looking down at me, so I tried to swallow my fear. “Um … have you ever heard of anyone becoming a mythical creature anthro?”

“A mythical creature? Like what?”

“Well, like a dragon … ” I sweated harder as I spoke the word. “Or like a phoenix, or gryphon, or something,” I quickly added.

“I’ve seen a gryphon before,” she said, resuming her knitting. “She was a cross of a hawk and a mountain lion. Sort of like how Mark got a coyote-deer soulgem.”

“Well, yeah … but what about dragons?” I hated having to say it again. It felt like I was giving myself away. And looking up at her, taller than me even while sitting down on a log, I felt like I was talking to a dragon … or something equally powerful. I felt so small and afraid.

Melinda just kept clicking her needles around the rug she was making. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one,” she said. “I’ve heard rumors, but they’re from so far away that they could have been monitor lizards.”

What she said next startled me: “Not that I’d rule it out, mind. The world is a different place now.”

My heart skipped a beat at that, and I tried to calm myself down. I was still tired, still in shock … knowing that what Laura had told me was unbelievable, but feeling deep down that it wasn’t. The world didn’t seem quite real at that moment.

It was a while before I could speak again. I coughed to clear my throat, and said “D-do you think … ”

Melinda looked down at me, concerned.

I hurried to finish. “Do you think it’s possible that some people are meant to be a certain kind of animal? Or mythical creature,” I hastily added.

“I wouldn’t know,” she said, still looking down at me. “I’d hope not. It would be sad to get stuck as an anthro you weren’t meant to be.”

I fidgeted.

“Why?” she asked. “Do you feel you’re a dragon inside?”

My face turned red, and I began sweating all over. I looked away from her, trying to think of a response, but I couldn’t come up with one.

“Zach?”

I just stood there, dumb and unable to speak, feeling like she could see right through me and knew what had happened and everything. And knew how I felt inside. I couldn’t deal with it … I just turned and walked away, feeling her eyes on me as I did so.

I tried to make sure no one was following me as I went back out to the stump. No one usually paid much attention to me, but after what had happened I was paranoid, and scared that I’d given myself away. It didn’t help that anthros could be so stealthy that I’d never see one if it were there.

Shaking, I used my phone as a flashlight, shining it all around the clearing where the stump was and trying to check around trees at the edges. I knew that it’d do me no good, since I was so slow and so obvious, but it’s like my brain wouldn’t let me not do it. I spent five or ten minutes checking like that before finally sitting down on the stump, putting on my headset with shaking hands and dialing Laura’s voice number.

“Zach?” she asked, and it startled me.

“Yes,” I whispered, shaking.

“Have you, uh, given any thought to my offer?”

“I felt it … ” I was still whispering.

“Hm?”

“Somehow, it worked. I could feel it, all of it. But then I tried to look at my reflection, and something went wrong … ” I explained as best as I could, leaving out the part where I’d tried to talk to Melinda about it.

“Ah … I’m sorry. The ancient powers can be … unpredictable like that.” She sounded uncomfortable.

“I believe you,” I told her, and swallowed to moisten my mouth. “I believe that you’re a dragon. And it scares me, but I believe that I am too.”

“You do?” Laura sounded like she was caught off-guard by that. “I mean … that’s good, that you do.” She coughed. “So what are you going to do now?”

“Why can’t they tell?” I asked. “When they look at each other through soulgems. When they look at me. Why can’t they tell that I’m not human?”

“Well, you know that the word ‘soulgem’ is a misnomer.” She sounded like she’d expected to have to answer this question. “They don’t see your actual spirit when they look at you through them, and they can’t use them to absorb animals’ spirits, either. All soulgems can detect or absorb is a sort of spiritual residue that’s given off by living bodies.”

“Ah, and since my body is human … ”

“You’re giving off human energy, correct.”

“So I guess that it wouldn’t do you any good to kill me and absorb my energy, then.”

“Huh?” She laughed, nervously. “Oh, no, no … ”

“Okay, then.” I was nervous, too.

“So … ” There was a pause. “I guess you need some time to think about it?”

“No, I’m coming with you.” I rushed to explain. “Those were the most amazing feelings I’ve ever had. It just felt right to be a dragon. I’ve always known that most animals weren’t for me, but I didn’t know what I was until last night. Now I know, and I want it. And if you’re a dragon inside too, then I want to help you as well.”

” … okay, then!” She let out her breath, seeming relieved. “Here’s what we have to do … ”

The next day is another busy one. The spring sowing still needs to be done, and the big, important anthros are moving about, calling out to each other and hauling loads back and forth. They notice when they don’t have ice water, and they think it’s because that scatterbrained kid is playing his video games again. They don’t ask what he was up to when he returns. They just chastise him and drink thirstily.

An hour later she thanks him for his help, and he nods quickly and departs. First at a brisk walk, then at a run. There’s so much he still needs to do to get ready, and he’s already late.

It was a long hike into the city. A couple years ago I wouldn’t have been able to manage it, but after spending those last few months running and biking around camp I was in better shape than I’d ever been. Which was good, because if I hadn’t had that “runner’s high” from walking so fast I would’ve been scared to death, trying to pass through the suburbs. There were fires in the distance and the shadows were long, and I didn’t dare turn on my flashlight.

I knew that I was no match for an anthro. Fortunately, I’d brought a secret weapon. I just hoped I’d have the time to use it if things came to that.

There was no traffic, downtown. There were no insects, or other people around. Cars had been swept to the sides of the street, or crumpled to bits by things that had rolled over them. It was my first time in Chicago since It’d happened, and it felt like I was in an ancient, petrified forest. If there was any life here, it was either hiding or moving fast, trying not to be seen. Sort of like me.

I caught up with Laura around 7 AM, four breaks and three energy bars after setting out. (My sleep schedule was still messed up from staying awake the whole night that one time, so it felt more like late evening.) I saw her downtown from a ways off, and called her on my phone to make sure it was her. When the tiny figure in the parking lot answered her phone, I stepped up the pace.

“What took you so long?” she asked, over my headset. She sounded upset.

“I was kept after dinner,” I said, short of breath as I hurried to meet up with her. “Plus I’m not used to this. Sorry.”

“I stayed up here all night, and I almost fell asleep … ”

I let her rant, and concentrated on maintaining my pace and breathing rate. I would’ve been upset too, to be left out here … I could sense fear under her words. “Why didn’t you call?” she asked.

“You didn’t pick up,” I said. “Did you leave it on silent?”

There was no answer. I hurried the rest of the way up to her, hanging up my phone as I did so.

I would’ve been more nervous about meeting her in person if I hadn’t been so exhausted. As it was, catching up to her was a relief. She was a bit shorter than I was and dressed all in black … not exactly a professional catburglar, but trying her darndest. Her face was lined with stress, and didn’t look much older than mine.

There was one thing that confused me, though. “Did you dye your hair?” I asked.

She blinked at me. “Huh?”

“It’s bright red,” I told her. “I don’t remember any redheads in our group.”

“Oh, um, yes … ” She coughed. “And you’ve grown a lot, haven’t you!”

We both stood there awkwardly, for a moment.

“So … ” she said. “Are you ready to go now?”

I sat down on the curb, wincing, and stretched my legs. “Give me a few minutes to rest … ”

“Okay, then.”

I was still sore when we set out the rest of the way. But she assured me it wouldn’t be dangerous. She hoped.

As they walk, they come to a part of the city that looks more rundown … and torn down. Skyscrapers have toppled over or crumbled in half, crushing smaller buildings beneath. The top of one of them is blocking the street, and the two squeeze around it, careful of the broken glass.

The sun rises over the buildings behind them. And the crystal shines, its rays lighting the streets and the buildings around it in a strange, transcendent glow.

My stomach had tightened in knots, and my legs had just given out. I was slumped down next to the wall, gasping for breath, while Laura did the same on the opposite site of the alley. It was awhile before either of us could say anything.

“I thought … ” I was still trying to catch my breath. “I thought we weren’t going to make it.”

She just nodded, too worn-out to say anything else.

More long minutes passed. I turned my head and saw the street we’d just left shining, walls and windows seeming to sparkle.

On instinct I turned away from it. I wanted to look, but it was more dangerous than staring at the sun. Instead I looked up at Laura, who was starting to get to her feet.

“It’s right down here,” she said. “Come on. Help me move the generator.”

” … the generator?”

It turned out to be an old gas-powered generator, with a blanket and things piled on top of it to disguise it from view. The rags around it smelled like gasoline, and the smell got to my head and made me dizzy.

After what we’d just been through we could only move it a few feet at a time, and it seemed like it took forever to get it to where we were going … even though it was just around the corner, an unmarked door in the side of the alley. The steps leading up to it almost killed my back.

Finally we set the thing down just outside the door, and she fumbled with lockpicks. “You’ve got fuel for this,” I said. “Right?”

“Enough.” She opened the door.

The lights were off, inside. It smelled hollow and cavernous; cold and damp. All I could see for awhile was the floor pattern, as we hauled the generator inside. Then Laura shut the door, and I could see tiny pinpricks of light … and hear running computers, inside.

“Wait … ” I said. “This place has power already? Then why do we need-”

Laura turned on a flashlight, and I squinted and looked where it was pointing. “That’s where they’re keeping them,” she said.

It looked like a blast door … solid metal, heavy and big. There were dents and scrapes all over its surface, especially around the seams and the edges. And there were places where it looked like a blowtorch had been taken to it. Not that it’d done a lot.

There was a computer terminal of some kind, in the wall right next to it. It looked like it’d been cut out and then hastily crammed back in, and its lights and the screen were dead. A panel beneath it was open, and cables and drywall were spilled out beneath.

“This place is running on emergency power,” Laura said. “It’s been this way since It happened.” She started hauling the generator again, and I picked up the other end. “I tried to … hack the terminal,” she grunted, “but it didn’t work.” We set the generator down next to it, and she looked up at me. “I just ended up cutting the power to it.”

“So, wait … ” I was trying to catch my breath, too. “You just needed me to help you haul this thing in here? Or … ”

She didn’t answer.

I watched her work with the cables beneath the terminal. They were a mess, but it looked like she knew what she was doing. Pretty soon she had them spliced around some kind of adapter, and plugged it into the generator.

“Cover your ears,” she said.

I did so, just in time. The generator was loud, especially in that enclosed space. It gave off smoke like car exhaust, and I found myself wondering how long we’d have before we got carbon monoxide poisoning.

I was looking away when she gestured to me. I looked back and she was pointing at the terminal, while looking at me. She tried to say something, but I couldn’t hear it over the noise.

I gave her a confused look. She gave me an irritated look and said something again, still pointing at the terminal.

I pointed at myself and shook my head, helplessly. What’d she want me to do? I thought. Hack into the terminal? Everyone back at camp thought I was good with smartphones, but that was just because they didn’t know how to use them.

Laura rolled her eyes, and stepped over and pulled me by the hand over to the terminal. Then she held my face up to it.

I didn’t struggle, because I figured she knew what she was doing. But I was confused. And my eyes were so close to the screen and the cameras right over it that I couldn’t see anything … except for a scan line tracing down it, along with a 3d picture of my face, as Laura held the flashlight on me.

Finally a green light came on, and she pulled me back. “DR. ASHCROFT — VERIFIED,” the screen said. And it showed my picture, in stereoscopic 3d, next to … another stereoscopic picture of me, this time wearing a white lab coat.

Huh?

I stared at Laura, but she wasn’t looking at me. Instead, she was looking up at the door.

It was opening.

I held my breath. What was inside? Vials of DNA samples? Unhatched eggs? An entire, underground kingdom of living-

I saw Laura recoil first. Then the stench hit me, too. It smelled like rotten eggs and rancid milk, and it was almost overpowering. I found myself leaning against the generator to steady myself, but the way it was vibrating was not helping my stomach any. I felt so sick I didn’t have anything left to be heartbroken with.

Laura went inside, and a moment later I followed, holding my breath before I went in.

I could feel the cold and the stench on my face as I entered, like walking into a clammy mist. There were row upon row of industrial freezers, some of them with their glass doors open and fluids spilling out from mysterious containers. Also eggs, cracked open and rotten and smashed on the floor. Some were smaller than hens’ eggs, others were bigger than ostriches’.

All were smashed, or warm and decaying. All of them … except one.

We both saw it at the same time. It was on the shelf in the last operational freezer, the only one with a light on in front. Laura nodded to it, urgently, and I hurried to the door and opened it. The inside was like a meat locker; the air smelled fresh, but it burned my lungs it was so cold.

The egg was one of the larger ones. I tried to pick it up, but my fingers almost stuck to it, scraping a layer of frost as they did. Thinking quickly, I took off my coat and wrapped it around the egg, then took it in both arms and hurried out of the room.

Laura turned off the generator and left it there, then held the front door open for me. I ran outside and gasped for breath, then looked around just in time to see Laura throw up over the stair railing. I looked away fast, and tried not to think about it as my own stomach lurched.

Finally, she finished, although she looked and sounded queasy. “This way,” she said, and hurried down an alleyway, clutching her stomach. I followed her.

We sat on opposite sides of the fire she’d started beneath an emergency stairwell, the egg bundled in my coat like a nest. Water dripped down its outside.

“Turn it around,” Laura said, without looking up.

I rotated it. The side that was facing the fire was burning hot. “Are you trying to cook it?” I asked, incredulous.

“I’m trying to let it thaw.”

I moved it farther away from the fire.

She sat there, motionless, arms wrapped around her knees. Looking down at the fire. I looked up at the sky and the roofs of buildings, and my gaze lingered on the sparkling shine of the concrete edges above for a long moment. Then I looked back down at the egg.

It was awhile before either of us said anything.

“I guess a printout didn’t cut it?” I asked.

“Huh?” She looked up.

“For the biometric security. A printout of his face wouldn’t work because the scanner was stereoscopic.”

“Laura” looked back down at the fire, and shivered.

“How long did it take you to find me?” I asked. “To find someone who looked enough like him?”

She hesitated a moment before admitting “Three days.” She didn’t look up as she spoke. “There were a half-dozen matches online, but most of them had disappeared. When I found you, and you lived so close to Chicago, I … I thought it was a sign.”

“From whom? The ancient dragons?”

She sighed, and then nodded.

“Bull.”

“Zach-”

“What story would you have used if I hadn’t bought that one? Would you have tried to tell me there were jewels in there? Shown me a treasure map? Told me you’d found my parents!?” My voice got more shrill until I was screaming at her. It echoed.

“When you had that dream, I thought it was a sign too … ”

“So you lied to me.”

She looked up. “I was trying to help-”

“You lied to me. You made everything up. You made it all up as you went, and didn’t bother to say you were playing pretend.” I turned the egg over, again. “So what’s this from, then? An emu? A roc?”

“Laura” stood, suddenly furious. “You listen to me, boy. That egg is a dragon egg. And I don’t know about you, but I am a dragon inside.” She pointed at herself. “I’ve had those dreams almost every night since before It happened. I saw dragon civilization. I lived it. Those filthy humans took it away from me, and I want it back.”

I shook my head slowly, feigning sadness. “You’re so good at lying, you’ve managed to lie to yourself.”

“What did you say?”

I just looked up at her, calmly. It was a while before she spoke.

“Give me the egg,” she finally said.

“Fine.” I unwrapped my coat from it, and slung my coat over one shoulder before picking the egg up and handing it to her.

She took it and smashed it against the wall.

“What did you do that for?” I shouted.

“What, you think I can raise one of these things? It would just suffer and die, if it even hatched. The only reason I came here was so I can do this.” She took out a clear soulgem, and held it over the remains. And I looked down, down at …

It looked like a blur at first, and it reminded me of the blur in my screen when I looked at my reflection. The shape that didn’t make sense … that didn’t match to anything I could recognize. For a long moment, I worried that she was right.

Then it’s like something clicked, in my brain, and I started to recognize what I was seeing. The teeth, claws, pebbled scales slick with half-frozen slime … the eyes squeezed shut, forever. And I realized what I was looking at.

“That’s not a dragon!” I exclaimed.

“Yes, it is!” Laura hissed.

“No, it’s not!” I shouted back at her, as the mists swirled in her crystal to create a true soulgem. “It’s a dinosaur! That was some kind of genetics lab!”

“Of course it was! And where do you think dragon stories come from, anyway? Huh?” Laura snapped.

“So, wait.” I folded my arms. “Did you have dreams of being a dragon dragon or a dinosaur dragon? Because I was the kind that flies and breathes fire.”

She didn’t answer, but just looked down at her soulgem.

“How much of this did you make up? Do you even know where the line between your pretend games and the real world is, anymore? How do you-”

“I know what the humans did to me!” she yelled.

I watched her clenching and unlenching her fists, like she was trying to say something else but couldn’t. “I know what they took,” she finished.

On another day, I would’ve felt sorry for her. At the time, though, I couldn’t care less.

“From you or the ‘dragons?’” I asked, making air quotes.

“Both.”

“You know humans supposedly weren’t around at the same time as the dinosaurs.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Her voice became growl-y and snarling. “That’s all you creatures ever do. You take and take and destroy everything, and you kill what you can’t take.”

I glanced down at the egg. “Well, then it looks like you finished our job for us. I hope you’re happy.”

She screamed, and shattered the soulgem at her feet.

That’s when I took off running.

Back at the camp just outside the city, people are starting to notice that Zach is missing. No one can find him or his smartphone, and they get an error message when they try to call.

Meanwhile, someone in a shed is opening a lockbox, and counting the dim soulgems slotted into the top, held tight to the foam padding by elastic bands. One of the loops in the middle hangs slack, empty. The label taped to the foam rubber behind it reads “Six-Lined Racerunner.”

I’d never used a soulgem before, not even the “dim” kind that didn’t cause permanent change. I’d been given the chance once, but I was too shy.

Right now I didn’t have time to worry, or even to think about it. I threw the gem down as I ran, jumping through the cloud and trying to keep running in the couple of seconds it took me to change. I stumbled a moment, scraping my hands on the ground, but they healed over as they became slick and leathery. My glasses fell off as I ran, but my eyesight and vision changed at about the same time that I grew a whiplike lizard tail. And after that I took off like nobody’s business, running out of the alley and turning right down the street.

A minute ago I’d been exhausted. Now I felt full of energy, more alive than ever, air rushing past my earholes as I ran faster than I’d ever biked. I wondered if this was what it was like for other anthros, and couldn’t believe that I hadn’t done this sooner.

I looked back just in time to see something run out of the alley and crash into an abandoned car, kicking off of it and stumbling after me. It was shaped sort of like her and wearing her clothes, but it had a long rigid tail, and was leaning almost all the way forward as it ran. Its arms were spread out like pincers, and its bare feet had huge sickle-claws like curved daggers.

I was still disoriented by having my eyes on the sides of my head, but I could see rows of sharp teeth, and a murderous face that I remembered from countless dinosaur movies and games. It was catching up alarmingly fast now that we were both on a straight track, even though I was in Racerunner form. I remembered phrases like “cheetah speed,” from the dinosaur movies and games, and realized that I needed to do something fast.

Up ahead of me, a skyscraper had fallen over, and crushed the buildings on the other side. I took a deep breath and sprinted towards it, changing lanes before running up the back of a car and jumping from it to the van in front; then leaping up to the open windowframe and grabbing on, pulling myself through the part that wasn’t rimmed with broken glass.

Because of the angle the building was at, it didn’t look like a structure at all to me. Just an obstacle course, with parts that were shaped vaguely like furniture. I took a half-second to get my bearings before running through the first open, side-tilted door that I saw, using my tail and my hands to steady myself and push off of things. When I got to a stairwell I started climbing on the sideways bars. I’d never been good at climbing, but when I heard her crash into the room I’d come in at I took off up that rail like nobody’s business.

A moment later I saw her much closer as she tore into the stairwell, clawing drywall and wood framing aside. “Come back here!” she shouted up at me.

“Heck no,” I breathed, panting with exertion as I tried to climb. I saw a doorway above me and started making for it.

“Stupid human mess,” she said to herself, surveying the landscape, before climbing the railing behind me. Her sickle-claws had wallpaper stuck to them, and kept clanging on metal and getting stuck in the rails. “I’m glad I’m not human anymore!” she called out, while trying to untangle her feet. “The world doesn’t need you! You’re an endangered species, and you’re going to die out!”

I paused, hands on the edge of the doorway above me and feet on the railing, and looked down at her. “The world needs humans,” I growled, just loud enough that she could hear me. Then I pulled myself up through the doorway.

I’m still not sure what I meant by that. Did I mean “humans” as in the species, or “humans” as in people? I was kind of going on instinct at the time. Either way, it sure got her mad. Her hiss echoed across the stairwell, and the sounds of claws clanking on metal sped up.

More rooms, more furniture. It didn’t take me long to get to the end, not with adrenaline pushing me. It occurred to me, as I pried open the window on “top” of the building and pulled myself through, that I shouldn’t be trying to goad her; I should be trying to lose her. Oh well, I thought, too late for that. Then I set both feet on the rough stone outside, and looked up.

The fallen skyscraper was tilted at a shallow angle, and there were only two ways I could go: down or up. I looked down first, but only saw a steep dropoff and sharp-looking wreckage beneath. So I took off running the other way, hoping I’d find some cover to take. I looked at windows as I passed by them, trying to find one that was open.

By now I was starting to tire, and by that I mean that even through the adrenaline rush I was becoming shaky. My breathing was getting ragged, and my legs were threatening to give out. But then she jumped through the window that I’d come out of, landing lightly on her feet and shaking herself off before looking up at me. That gave me the burst of fear that I needed to run even faster.

Where to go? I thought. But I started to realize there was no place to go, and that even if I found someplace to dive into she’d be on me before I could get inside. So I just put everything into running a straight track between windows, hoping that something would happen.

I passed out of shadow and into the Glare from the crater, and for a moment I thought This is it; at least it will be less painful. But then I remembered I was an anthro at the moment, and the air and concrete seemed to sparkle around me but I was unaffected. The next thing that came to my mind was those nature documentaries where the predator leaps on their prey, and I didn’t look behind me but I knew that was going to happen. My heart rate sped up, and I squinted through tears.

I looked up just in time to see the edge of the building, and for a split-second my brain said Jump! But I stopped just in time, dropping to my knees and scraping to a halt right in front of it.

Right then, two things happened.

First, Laura jumped … and went right over me.

Second, I reached out and caught her hand.

What!? my lizard brain thought, just as I smacked into the side of the building, pushed flat against it by her weight. My arm felt like it was being pulled from its socket, claws dug sharply into my wrist, and I heard more claws scrape on the flat concrete roof. Starting to scrape and slide across the wall, I grabbed onto the edge of a window and tried to hold myself in place, my own claws digging in and scraping across the rough stone.

My shoulder hung over dead air, and my arms were about to give as her weight pulled me towards the edge. Then her claws found purchase on something and she jumped, landing next to me and yanking me up with her. We tumbled for a second and landed in a heap next to each other, plastered to the side of the building and gasping over and over again.

It was probably five or ten minutes before either of us said anything. I could feel my legs, arms, and shoulders cramping up, and could feel the raw skin and the cuts on my hand sting, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I was spent.

Finally she looked up at me. “Why … ” She swallowed, and gasped again. “Why did you do that?”

I wanted to give her a reason, but I couldn’t. I’d done it on instinct, when I saw her flying over the edge. So I just said “The world needs dragons, too.”

Then I fell asleep, the Glare shining off of my scales.

People are starting to get worried. They haven’t seen Zach all day. Nobody knows where he’s gone. Most of them don’t know him personally, but word starts to spread that a human kid disappeared.

It’s not until late evening that somebody notices a figure walking slowly up to camp, from the road that leads to the city. The spotter does a double-take, when he sees what species she is. And he does another when he sees who she’s carrying in both arms.

I barely remembered being carried back up to the camp. I’d slept through most of that day, and was groggy and incoherent for most of the trip back. I slept through all of the next day too, and when I woke up I didn’t know what time of day it was. I just knew the sun was getting in my eyes.

I moaned and reached up to rub my eyelids, and then I saw that my hands had claws and scales. I stared for a long moment before remembering. After that my long tail started to get cramped up, so I staggered out of my tent and stretched drowsily.

The sun was beginning to set. I could hear the fire crackling and smell the food cooking, and it smelled more delicious than ever. I wondered how long I would stay this way, as I went to get ready for dinner. I also wondered what’d happened to “Laura.”

It was a little while before I got my answer. Someone tapped me on the shoulder while I was finishing eating, and I looked up and jumped. Melinda was standing behind me.

She handed me a crumpled sheet of paper, and said “The girl who brought you here left you this.”

“Huh … ” I took it in one hand and looked over it, holding it to the side because of how my head was now shaped. The writing was hard to make out, and kept trailing off into squiggles as though she’d slipped and lost hold of the pen.

“Everyone thought you’d been kidnapped,” Melinda said. “We had people searching the woods for you.”

“Er, sorry … ”

“You can tell us what happened whenever you’re ready.” She walked off.

I looked more closely at the paper, and read it from the beginning:

“I wish you hadn’t said what you did. Not the last part; the part that got me angry at you.

” — Maya”

I paced back and forth in front of the fire long after the others had gone to bed, my tail casting a shadow behind me. I kept thinking of what to say, writing long, rambling letters in my head. I wanted to comfort her; I wanted to chastise her; I wanted to make her problems go away and make her feel guilty at the same time. A couple of times I started to type something in awkwardly, trying to press the onscreen keys around my clawtips, then deleted it.

Finally, I wrote this.

“Hi maya

“Thanks for taking me back. Sorry to here what happened to you. I hope things turn out well”

I paused for a long moment, frustrated with my phone’s spelling corrections, before taking a deep breath and continuing.

“You are a dragon now. The world needs you in it. Don’t get hung up on what happens tomorrow. Just be yourself.

” — Zach”

I pressed “Send.” Then I banked the fire and poured water on it, and left to get ready for bed.

That night Zach has the dream again. Except this time, he’s not a dragon. He’s the lizard that he became, using the soulgem, and he’s using his speed to escape his pursuers. The feeling of running seems real, but this time he’s not scared. He’s confident and full of energy, and they’re not. He taunts them the way he did Maya, and they make amusing mistakes.

He’s going to become a Racerunner. And he’s going to be the fastest thing in the camp.

The police were just figureheads by this point, Francisco was sure of that much. It presented a darkly amusing contrast, seeing their primitive shotguns and kevlar next to the full-body, face-covering armor of the aliens.

He wished they would just go away. There seemed to be a feeling of mutual discomfort between him and the aliens. Most of the normal people would stare in awe at the Federation soldiers, even if just for a few seconds, as if it were an instinctual reaction. Something about them drew the gaze of every human around them.

Except for him, it seemed. He’d tried to fake that reaction, of course. But there was just something missing, a level of respect or fear he simply didn’t have. And they noticed, he was sure of it. He could feel their stares beneath their helmets as he passed by.

And that was all the more reason to go straight home. A break from his classes was much welcomed, and he didn’t want to waste a moment of it.

He passed through a street filled with performance artists. Wincing at the cacophony of noise, he picked up his pace, weaving through the crowd of dancers, singers, musicians, and observers.

He was nearly in the clear when something caught the corner of his eye. Maybe it was because he hadn’t gotten enough sleep last night, maybe it was just a trick of the light. But he was sure he saw some sort of bird-human thing, sitting upon a blanket and playing a guitar.

He did a double-take. His eyes must have been fooling him, because there was just a normal person sitting there. The musician, noting the sudden attention, glanced up expectantly at him, his eyes briefly flicking down to a hat set out in front of him. It was empty, barring a few coins.

Francisco fished out a few bills and dropped them in his hat. And when he looked up again, he was staring at a pitch-black bird. “Thanks, man.” Somehow Francisco got the impression he was grinning at him, despite the fact he had a beak.

He blinked. And there was a human once again. “Y-yeah. No problem.”

The tips of claws plucked away at guitar strings, the strings somehow keeping intact. “Enjoying the festival?”

He smiled nervously. “Not really.” He heard the familiar soft clinking of Federation-issued armor. “I mean, not that I don’t like it, I was just heading home.”

The guitarist shrugged. “You don’t have to sound guilty. I’m just here to play. Gotta eat somehow.” A passerby tossed a coin into his hat without even a sidelong glance. “Doing pretty well so far. I’ve already got enough for dinner tonight.”

Francisco stared at his tail, which was fading in and out of view. “That’s good.”

“Anyway,” the musician waved his hand at him, “don’t let me keep you. I’ll be taking a break soon.”

“Yeah.” He felt a strange sense of familiarity looking at him, the same he got from meeting a distant relative he hadn’t seen in years.

The musician arched an eyebrow. “You alright?”

Francisco broke his gaze as a dull pain struck at the back of his head. “I’m fine. Just a headache. I, uh…” He tried to concoct a way of asking ‘do you ever look half-human, half-animal?’ without sounding as if he had lost his mind. He failed. “Um, bye.”

He rushed away before the crow-man could give any kind of farewell, wanting to take the incident out of his mind altogether.

He was nearly home when he heard the crackle of a voice synthesizer coming to life. He slowly turned around to face a trio of Federation soldiers, mere feet away from him.

“This area is off limits.” The one in the center said in a robotic voice.

The street ahead was oddly empty, come to think of it. Only a few soldiers walking around, but no humans. And they looked even more armed than usual.

The soldiers exchanged glances with each other. “Leave now. This area is off-limits.” It repeated.

“You could take them.” A tiny and probably insane voice in the back of his head said. But the dull whir of their energy weapons charging up quickly disabused him of that notion. “But my apartment is that way.”

He felt a strange presence in his mind, one which evoked the same kind of feeling he got whenever somebody was staring over his shoulder at his computer monitor while he was in the middle of an IM conversation. And then, without any warning, it was simply gone.

Even if their faces weren’t visible, he could tell the aliens were becoming agitated. One of them started tapping frantically at a device on its wrist.

He started feeling a very strong compulsion to run away, for he was certain nothing good could come of this. And before he could make himself consider what an incredibly bad idea running was, he did. He was not an especially athletic person, and a broken nose that had never quite healed properly made it difficult for him to breathe, but he was beyond caring about that for he was sure that it would be far worse on him to stay. And he didn’t dare look behind them, but he could hear their synthesized voices commanding him to stop. And perhaps it was the work of an overactive imagination, but he thought he heard them firing off a warning shot. That just made him run faster despite the burning in his lungs, and to take more turns through the streets in a desperate attempt to lose them, hoping all the way he wouldn’t end up trapping himself in some dead-end alleyway.

He ran blindly until he couldn’t see them anymore, or hear their demands for him to stop. When he finally did come to a halt, it was just outside a plaza, filled with market stalls and people milling about.

“Perfect.” He breathed a sigh of relief and tried to catch his breath. “Maybe hiding in plain sight will work.” His stomach growled. “And it’s not like I’ll be able to go home anytime soon…” Then the reality of his situation sunk in. “I can’t go home. I don’t know when I’ll be able to go home again. The Federation probably thinks I did some kind of horrible crime and if they catch me they’ll probably lock me away forever in a spaceship or something and I’ll never be able to escape and it’s not like I could prove them wrong even if I wanted to because I can’t afford a lawyer and my life is over.” He would have sunk to his knees if it wouldn’t have been so conspicuous.

“Calm down.” The insane side of him said. “Your life obviously isn’t over if you’re still standing here. But it will be if you don’t get something to eat.” And the smell of food was very tantalizing.

He went for the very first stall he saw without much of a line. “Wait. I can’t let anyone get a good look at my face.” He pulled the hood of his jacket further over his head, grabbed a candy bar, half-threw a few bills at the cashier, told him to keep the change, and found a tree to sit under.

The midday sun had been painfully bright, and so the shade was a welcome break. The candy bar was even more welcome, and probably had enough sugar to keep him going for another two hours. And with his blood sugar up, he was feeling better– though that wasn’t saying much.

He reclined back against the tree, looked up towards the sky, and daydreamed about flying away. He’d never liked mundane life as far back as he could remember, not that he’d let anyone know. But the nagging feeling that there was so much more to it than trudging through a school and going through the motions of social activity with people he had nearly nothing in common with was always there, and it had been getting worse lately. And it was accompanied by half-remembered dreams of somewhere far away, so painfully beautiful it made him want to cry, but these dreams eluded his grasp despite his best efforts to recall them in detail.

He knew what his family would say, that he needed to get his head out of the clouds and face reality. But it couldn’t hurt to dream just a little, could it? If he couldn’t get joy out of living in the real world, finding it in a dream world was better than nothing. And though he’d always dreamed of adventure and being a hero, this mess wasn’t quite the adventure he’d been hoping for.

His thoughts were interrupted, as that same peculiar feeling of being invaded he’d had earlier that day struck him again. He jerked his head up, and started walking if only because it seemed like the sensible thing to do. He couldn’t afford to stay still for too long, after all– the more he moved around, the less likely he was to be found.

“Citizen Francisco Gonzales.”

His blood froze in his veins, but he forced himself to keep going. He tilted his head just enough to see a squad of Federation soldiers, and found himself walking faster. It was a common enough name, after all. All he had to do was blend in, and everything would be alright. They’d never even know.

“Citizen, you are ordered to come with us.”

But now the crowd he was in wasn’t moving anymore. They were completely frozen in place, like human statues. And he had little choice but to freeze with them.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see them circling around their human flock. He felt the gaze of one of the soldiers on him. Unable to take the pressure, he ran, trying and failing not to shove the people in his way. The people he did push simply fell over like ragdolls.

He thought he was making good time until pain lanced through his shoulder. He crumpled to the ground, and try as he might to force himself to move, he couldn’t.

The aliens seemed incredibly tall up close, and even more intimidating. One of them effortlessly picked him up, and he got a very good view of the group of humans. Their blank stares were fixed on him.

His heart hammered in his chest. “Why won’t they do something? Why won’t anyone help me?“ He drew in a ragged breath, wanting nothing more than to make something move under his own power. “Why can’t I do anything?”

In that moment of desperation, he felt something growing inside of him, like a tiny spark becoming a flame.

Or maybe even a dragon spreading its wings.

Whatever it was, it caused him to surge back against his captor, kicking it away. And whatever part of him that was not reeling from shock realized that, somehow, he was flying now, and furthermore for the first time since he was a child, he was able to breathe clearly. That part of him then had to go from that to figuring out that it wasn’t in his best interests to question his fortune and that flying away would be a capital idea. Therefore, it took him a couple seconds and at least one energy blast before he finally tried.

The fourth realization was that flying was difficult, especially when you were being shot at. The energy blasts might not have been paralyzing anymore, but they still stung, even though he was covered in some kind of blue, chitinous plating. He flailed around in mid-air, panicked even more when he lost altitude, and dropped like a rock.

On the bright side, he at least landed on a soldier. Even if it wasn’t the most graceful of landings, it did break his fall and he had the comfort of taking one of his pursuers with him. But through the stars dancing in his eyes, he saw the others advancing on him. He stumbled to his feet, and backed up. His tail thudded straight into a wall, and if he hadn’t had more pressing concerns he’d have wondered when he’d gotten a tail. The soldiers were closing in on him, and the one he’d fallen on was now getting up. He got the impression from the way they moved they weren’t afraid of him in the slightest. Amused, perhaps, but certainly not afraid.

His eyes darted about, searching for an escape, but they had formed a half-circle around him. “Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.” That left fighting back as his only option, and he had nothing to use against them.

The tallest soldier in the group leveled his gun at Francisco. He bared his fangs, for what little good it would do him. But he’d made up his mind to go down fighting. He lunged at the alien, his claws scraping uselessly against the armor. The squad immediately opened fire on him, but he dove to the ground, taking the soldier with him, and the energy bolts skimmed over him. He grappled with the soldier, knocking its gun out of its hands. He felt the tiniest surge of hope until something stabbed into him. The very tip of a blade was poking through his arm, dark blue smoke seeping out of the wound instead of blood.

He reflexively jerked back, though he wasn’t in that much pain. Somehow, he’d figured getting stabbed would hurt a lot more than that. He couldn’t help but stare at the hole clean through his arm with the same morbid fascination one might experience from looking at a car crash. And while he was distracted, the alien, now with a blade protruding from its wrist, kicked him in the chest, knocking the breath out of him. He staggered back, and clenched his fists.

It felt as if he was holding something. He stole a quick glance at his hand, and saw a sword, the same blue color as his armor-like skin. “Come on,” he urged himself, “use it!” He pointed the sword at the nearest alien’s throat. “B-back off!” Now the soldiers seemed more hesitant. Encouraged, he continued on. “Or I’ll…”

They opened fire on him. He dove to the ground in a desperate attempt to avoid the first volley, and it mostly worked. A few shots clipped through his shoulder, but he could still count himself among the living for now. There was a low whining sound as the guns recharged. With that tiny interval of opportunity, he scrambled to his feet, gashed through one of the aliens with the sword– peculiarly, it left no sign of injury, even though he was sure it’d gone right through the armor– and trampled over it as it fell to the street.

He jumped up, trying to fly again, only to find he couldn’t. And for the umpteenth time that day, he ran for his life, smoke trailing behind him. He could hear thunderous noises behind him. As his mind was clouded with terror, it took him a moment to work out what they were. Gunshots, the kind that used bullets and not energy bolts. And since when had anyone used those? Weren’t they illegal or something?

On top of that, he could hear shouting now. And howling, and roars. “That can’t be the aliens.” He could hear shuffling footsteps, though they were headed in the opposite direction of him. Something whooshed past him– he could have sworn it had spots. Or that could just be the dots swimming around in his field of vision. He’d been hit pretty hard, after all.

“Can’t stop now.” He was so close to the outskirts of the city, and didn’t hear any armor clinking behind him, maybe they’d finally decided to leave him alone. Meanwhile, there were other things rushing past him now– things that walked like humans, but had tails, fur and claws. And they were carrying guns.

The few humans left in the part of the city he was in were breaking out of the trance that the Federation aliens usually put them in. In fact, they were downright panicked, and an outright riot of animal-people, humans, and aliens was forming. One of the aliens took aim at the crowd mobbing him, but the instant it was about to fire, a tawny-furred feline creature bludgeoned it over the head with her gun. The soldier staggered back, and the cat-person tackled him, tearing at his armor with her claws in search for a weak point.

Most of the crowd scattered, revealing another scuffle going on– a much more one-sided one. Another soldier had a human by the throat in one hand, and a blade in the other.

Francisco didn’t dare hesitate– there wasn’t enough time for that. He charged at the soldier, shouting “Hey!” as loudly as he could. The alien had just enough time to see who was attacking it before his sword cut through its helmeted head. The soldier crumpled to the ground. Peculiarly, it still was breathing after what should have been a fatal blow, though he was still too giddy with his own successes to think too much on the properties of his new weapon.

“What did you just do?” The human he saved asked, a shrill edge to his voice.

It took a few moments for Francisco to recognize who he’d just saved– the guitarist. “I remember you!” He threw open his arms for a hug, but the guitarist jerked back.

Francisco blinked and tilted his head. It wasn’t quite the heroic welcome he’d been hoping for. But a cursory glance at his outstretched arms explained why.

“Sorry.” He sheepishly withdrew his sword-bearing hand. “I forgot I had this.” He unclenched his hand, but the sword remained levitating just above his palm. “Um.” He shook his hand around, but the sword refused to budge. “Aaaah, how do I make it go away?” He flailed around wildly while the guitarist gave him a look of utter disbelief. He ceased moving. “Don’t you remem– oh.” He tapped his rock-solid skin with his free hand. “Um, I know I don’t look like it, but you know me. Sort of. I mean, we met earlier today. I was just different then. I gave you some change…”

Francisco thought he saw a brief flash of familiarity in the man’s eyes, but then it was gone. “No.” The guitarist said under his breath. “No way.”

“Look, I know this seems crazy, but it’s true!”

“Crazy, that’s it. I’m going crazy.”

“No, that’s not it either, it’s just…” Francisco trailed off. On second thought, insanity did seem like a likely explanation for all this, especially since he didn’t have another one. But insanity didn’t explain his wounds. “Well, I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure?” His volume rose with each syllable until he was shouting at the very end. “Doesn’t anyone have a clue about what’s going on here?”

“I know as much as you do!” Francisco grabbed his hand and dragged him along behind him. “But the Federation is after us! Now let’s go!”

Though he wanted to get both of them as far away as he could from the Federation soldiers, his injuries were finally starting to catch up with him, adrenaline was draining from his body, and he was getting incredibly tired. His steps grew gradually slower and slower, then he couldn’t move at all despite his best efforts to the contrary, and the world around him grew dark.

The next sensation Francisco was aware of was pain, and the next thought he had was “OWOWOWOW oh hey I’m alive?” He opened his eyes– he was well away from the city, in a small forest of some kind. And his sword was finally gone.

“Welcome back to the world of the living.” It was the guitarist’s voice. “Not that I’m sure I want to be right now.”

He turned his head to face his companion with what he hoped looked like a smile. The bird’s image seemed to be stable now, instead of flickering from human to crow. “You…”

“Yes, me.” He said. “And I have a name, you know. Though I guess we weren’t ever properly introduced. I’m Gabriel.”

“Francisco.” He paused. “Have you noticed that…well…”

“This?” Gabriel pointed to his beak. “Yeah, it’s kind of hard to miss. You were out when it happened. But you’re not looking quite right yourself.”

Francisco stared at his claw-tipped feet. “How bad is it?”

“Just…” Gabriel pulled a compact mirror out of his pocket.. “See for yourself.”

For a moment, he didn’t recognize himself in the mirror. But it had to be him, the thing in the mirror was making all the same movements he did. He looked reptilian now, with deep blue scales that covered his body in plates like the shell of a beetle, though it was pockmarked with holes where he’d been shot. And the longer he looked at his new self, the less unusual it seemed, like this had been what he was all along and he just hadn’t known up until now. He flexed his muscles and grinned. There was something oddly handsome about his new self too, in an otherworldly sort of way.

“You’re not taking this seriously!” The guitarist hissed. “I mean…what are you? What am I?”

“I’m not really sure.” He dropped his arms to his side. “And I don’t really think it matters. Whatever we are, we can help people now.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re about to say we can overthrow the Federation.” He sighed.

Francisco deflated a bit. “Well, maybe we can find other people to help us? I mean, it can’t be just us. I saw others back in the city, I’m sure of it!”

“I did too, but there weren’t that many of them.” He ran his hand through his feathers. “And the Federation outnumbers humankind, and if they outnumber humans they probably outnumber…whatever we are.”

“But we’re able to resist them.” He protested. “There are no coincidences. We must be like this for a reason, and we can’t let what we have go to waste.”

“That doesn’t mean we should go charging off blindly, though.”

“Exactly!” Francisco nodded. For a moment, Gabriel looked relieved. And then Francisco continued. “We need to find the people who were fighting them back in the city.”

“The crazy ones doing all the howling and screaming and waving guns around?”

“They were probably just trying to look scary. I don’t think they’re bad people.”

“How can you even tell?”

“I saw one of them saving a group of people from the Federation,” he said quietly. “She attacked a soldier when they were about to get shot.”

He fell quiet for a few moments. “You’re probably right. This is…” Gabriel sighed again. “I just can’t believe everything that’s happened. Weird doesn’t even cover it.”

“Maybe they know what’s going on. Look,” he pointed back to the city, which now had a few spaceships hovering over it, “it’s not like we can go back now. It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”

He was silent for a painfully long time. And then… “Fine. I just want answers, though.”

“Great!” Francisco sat straight up, and immediately regretted it. “Owww…”

“You’ve still got holes in you, you know.” He deadpanned in the way that only someone who’d seen considerably stranger things in a very short period of time could say. “We should be staying the night, at least.”

Francisco shook his head. “We shouldn’t. What if the Federation finds us?”

“Okay, point taken. But you’re still hurt.”

He examined his skin– there was no longer blue smoke coming out of him. “I’m not bleeding.” He ventured. “I think. And I can still move.”

“But we don’t even know how to find these other…people, or whatever they are!”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem.” Francisco said cheerfully. “They stand out.”

“Fine.” He threw up his hands. “If you’re crazy enough to do this, let’s go. But if you faint again, we’re stopping.”

“I’ll be fine!” He hopped off the tree root he’d been resting against. “Let’s go! There’s not a moment to lose!”

This had been more of the adventure Francisco had been hoping for– even if the odds were impossible, he had a purpose now, and at last he was no longer alone.

To be continued…

Not five minutes of sleep. I wasn’t unconscious. Just five minutes of laying there, not feeling my arms or my legs or being able to see anything.

When I explain it to people, they think it’s terrible. But it’s not. It’s actually kind of refreshing. It feels genuine somehow, like meditation or introspection. I always “wake up” wishing that I didn’t have to.

I used to enjoy physical activity. Not so much anymore.

I’m sitting in my dad’s chair, at his desk. To one side is the closed door. To the other are floor-to-ceiling windows. The sun is rising, and light plays off of the zen rock garden and black-and-white paintings. Waves are crashing against the coast. It’s high tide.

The computer in front of me looks like a screen that is floating in midair. It’s not, but they made it look that way. My dad was very proud of it. It’s got his company’s logo, on the metal frame at the bottom.

I look at it, and correct myself. Not his company … my company. The one I own a majority stake in, now. The one that made almost everything that I use in my daily life. My phone … my computer, both hardware and software …

My body.

The screen fades to black, since I haven’t touched it in awhile. It’s glossy and reflective, and I can see myself in it almost like I could in a mirror. There I am … can you see me? The gem, set into my bracelet. The one that doesn’t come off. The gem is deep blue, and if you turn off the lights and cup your hand over it you can just barely see it glow.

That’s me. That’s my soulcrystal. It’s all that I need to think, feel, and remember. Which is good, because it’s all there was left of me after the plane crash.

I still fit into all my old clothes. They’re loose on me now, because I was starting to gain weight from being at college. And I still look like I always did … just more stylized. More plastic. Like a girl crossed with an iPom.

I’d make a great dancing silhouette. I just wouldn’t be able to feel the movement. Not like I could before. Nothing feels right. I didn’t notice it when I stepped on a rock, but five minutes of using the mouse and I couldn’t stand it anymore. It was the same with using the keyboard. I had to adjust the sensitivity, and now I ixxasional

Um.

I occasionally make typos. Because my hands don’t feel the keyboard that well. And my sense of balance works, more or less, but there’s a hair’s-breadth delay between when I lean to one side and when I feel the new direction of gravity. It’s just long enough that it feels “off.”

There are all kinds of other things like that. Maybe they’ll fix them in the next model. Maybe they’ll fix me. They’d better.

I’m going to have to have a new model built for me, because I don’t like how this one looks. Not liking how you look … that’s something all girls can relate to, right? And that’s how I felt while I was designing this one, back when I still had a flesh-and-blood body. I had this long list of things that I didn’t like about myself. My nose was too pointy, my hair was too messy, my toes were crooked …

My toes! Can you believe it? I had flesh-and-blood toes, the only set that I’ve ever had, and I couldn’t stand them because they were off-kilter a fraction of an inch. And this was a big deal, because if a guy saw me with flip-flops on he’d think “Wow, she’s genetically flawed. I’d better pass her up as a potential romantic partner.” Or something like that. If I sound bitter, it’s because I am.

So now I have perfect toes, and perfect skin, and a perfect face. And I look at the reflection in the blank, shiny screen, and I don’t recognize myself.

I look like an anime character.

I look like an action figure.

I look like a doll.

Has it ever occurred to you how creepy dolls are?

My brow furrows, and that looks genuine. But it’s not my face. I’m doing that, but it’s not me. It’s like I’m remote-controlling someone. Someone with a giant plastic hair ornament, and bracelets that don’t come off. They have to be there, and I have to have this cord plugged into the side of this thing’s neck so that I won’t have to recharge.

I’d normally have to recharge for a couple of hours each day. But I haven’t for the past week. Because I’ve been sitting here the whole time on the Internet.

I remember what it was like to get uncomfortable with how I was seated. I remember needing to get up and get snacks and things. But I don’t anymore. And you know what? I don’t care. I’m rich now. I can do whatever I want. I can spend an entire day watching cartoon hamsters if I feel like it. Boy, can those things dance.

I want to dance.

I stand up and unplug the power cord. There’s no rush of blood from my head, and barely any disorientation. One second I’m seated, the next I’m not.

As I’m setting the cord on the desk, I notice it’s covered in dust. Then I notice my arm is covered in dust too. And my bracelets, and my hair, and that thing on the back of my head. I run my finger over it and I can’t feel much, because I turned fingertip sensitivity down. But I bring my hand back in front of my face and the tip of my finger is gray.

Has it really been only a week? How long have I been in here?

I feel like I just crawled out of a grave. I jump away from the desk and shake myself vigorously, running my hands through my hair, dusting off my shoulders and arms, trying to get this stuff off of me. I’m scared and weirded out at the same time, and-

I fall over.

Too much delay, I guess. Too much lag. I couldn’t feel which way was up in time to stabilize myself. Now I’m sitting here on the floor watching dust settle around me, the sun at my back, and thinking how otherworldly it is. The whole room is silent. No breathing … no heartbeat.

You know that sound that you hear when there’s no other sound? That high-pitched whine? I can’t even hear that.

I’m so weirded out that I don’t want to think about it. Instead I get up, reach for the phone on my desk, brush the dust off of the glass screen and touch the on-screen controls. There’s an external speaker on this thing … I want to hear some music.

I put on one of my favorite songs, one that I’ve always loved dancing to. The kind of dancing you only do when there’s nobody else around. And I try to dance, I really do. But I stumble and stagger and fall, just like last time.

I try to adjust my rhythm. I slow myself down. I swing myself more deliberately, more consciously, trying to feel the movement. But I can’t. The feelings just aren’t the same. It’s like eating an unsalted corn chip, or drinking watered-down juice. I don’t know how to explain it. There’s no rush of movement … there’s just movement.

I sigh, but even that isn’t satisfying. And I’m leaning against the wall, but I’m neither worn out nor excited.

I go to pick up my phone, and it occurs to me that the screen is all fogged up. How can that be? I touch the screen to unlock it, and watch the fog melt around my fingertip …

Wait. I think I get it.

My phone runs hotter than my (or my dad’s) computer does because it’s smaller.

The fog is melting around my fingertip because it’s heated too. It has to be … PomPhones have a capacitive touchscreen. That means that they detect body heat. My body is made by the same company, so I have to have warmth in my fingertips in order to use one of our phones. But aside from that, I don’t have any internal warmth. My body temperature is the same as room temperature.

I’m standing here in a freezing room in probably late autumn, and I only just now realized it.

I feel an almost physical chill. As though I walked into a room with a dead body in it. Except this is worse, because it’s my own.

I walk over to the window. There are no birds outside. There are no animals. There’s just sand, and rocks, and a sunrise over the sea. There is a tree, but it’s dead.

I take a deep breath — my first in awhile — and exhale onto the window. Nothing. No fog.

No heat. No life.

Just a room full of objects.

I want to cry, but I can’t.

I sit, motionless, on the backless couch in the foyer. My hands are clasped in my lap.

I can’t hear anything except the clock ticking. I can barely feel my clothes or my weight pressed into the seat. I’m not uncomfortable. I don’t want to fidget. My nose doesn’t need scratched. I blink, but it’s automatic. Besides that, I’m perfectly still.

I’m mentally retreated way inside my own head … or soulcrystal, anyway. I’ve disassociated myself from the person-shaped object that I’m attached to. It’s carrying me around, but it’s not me and it’s not alive. I’ve accepted that. It’s taken me a few hours, and they’re going to need to replace the upstairs windows now, but I think I’ve accepted that.

My hands and knees are still scratched up. I hope that my friends don’t notice.

The clock ticks.

I hear an electric car outside, softly prowling up the curving driveway to stop in front of the porch. Car doors open and shut, and flip-flops crunch gravel beneath them, then step on the stones leading up to the house.

Somehow I can’t bring myself to get up, even though my friends are here now. I just want to sit here. I’m not sure why.

The doorbell rings.

The servant’s shoes click, louder and louder, then she walks past and opens the front door towards me. I can’t see through it.

“Come in,” she says. I hear flip-flops slapping inside.

My old roommates step into view, and I feel like I’m physically tensing up inside. How is that possible? Is it like the feelings you’d have from a phantom limb? Either way, I can’t bring myself to look up at them. My eyes find the floor and their flip-flops, and my hands start to fidget with nervousness. What do they see me as?

I feel a hand on my shoulder. The tension leaves my body … or at least my spirit.

“Are you okay, Claris?” Lena asks.

“I think so,” I say.

I stand up and look at her. She’s a bit shorter than I remember her. She and Sam are both wearing loose shirts and knee-length shorts, but she’s dressed in light colors to compliment her hair. Her aquamarine soulcrystal hangs on a pendant around her neck, and unlike mine it glows visibly.

Sam’s wearing a band t-shirt, and her soulcrystal is nowhere to be seen. She brushes her unkempt black hair out of her eyes, before handing me a gift-wrapped box. “Got you something.”

“Um … ” My eyes flick around, at the marble floor and the black and white modern art on the wall. Then I see Sam’s impassive face, and I know that she knows what I’m thinking. It must be something that money can’t buy.

I take the box from her and open it up, the glossy wrapping paper squeaking and crinkling under my fingers. Inside is a dome-shaped hat, like a cold weather cap, with faux fox ears sewn onto it. It has no tag.

It’s whimsical. It’s silly. It’s also hand-made, and the kind of present we used to exchange when we were rooming together. I take it in my hands, setting the box aside, and it feels soft and organic and real. Then I put it on, and I look in the mirror that spans the wall behind the couch. I like it.

“Thank you,” I say, and glance at her face in the mirror.

“Welcome,” she says, and examines the couch. Sam never was much for speaking.

I look back at myself. Something about the sight of this object wearing a hat is starting to seem a bit off.

“Your house is nice,” Lena says, grasping at straws conversationally.

“It was my dad’s house.”

“Ah yes, I’m sorry … ”

“It’s okay.” I’m still looking in the mirror. Lena’s face is nervous, but mine is impassive as I try to figure out what doesn’t look right. It’s not the hat, I decide. It’s this robot body, and its undetachable accessories and the way my old clothes look different on it. The hat is the kind of thing I always used to wear … it’s very me. But this thing it’s on top of is not.

Looking in the mirror, my appearance matters to me in a way that it hasn’t since high school. But this time, I’m not worried about what others think. I’m worried about what I think. I want to feel comfortable with my appearance. Seeing this thing that looks like me but isn’t makes me uncomfortable.

My friends are uncomfortable too, because I’m staring into the mirror with a blank expression on my face. Out of the corner of my eye, Lena coughs. “So, well, um, you invited us here … ”

“Yes. I did.”

“What would you like to do?”

I look at the doll that my self is attached to, for another long second. Then I decide. “Let’s go shopping.”

Lena is taken aback. “Shopping? We, um … ”

“I’ll pay.”

“Are you sure this is such a … ”

“Heck yeah.” I give my fox-eared self an annoyed look. “Let’s go.”

“Our car or yours?” Sam looks up.

“Yours. I shouldn’t be driving right now.”

We walk out to Lena’s sedan, and I glance around at brown grass and dead trees, and at the rocks of the curving shoreline. Wind blows past my ears, and I watch my roommates shiver before climbing in the back seat, remembering what moist, salt air smells like.

For a second there’s this terrible pang that almost makes me double over, as I realize I’ll never feel that again. I choke it down, though, because I don’t want to have to deal with it right now. Instead, I shut the door and look out at it, and remember.

My friends climb in next, and shut the doors and buckle their seatbelts. With the doors shut, the crashing of the waves is as muffled as my physical feelings are.

We spend the next half-hour driving. At first I feel nervous, because of what I am and because this is the first time I’ve spoken with my friends in awhile. But Lena can tell what I’m going through, and distracts me like the good friend she is. Pretty soon we’re talking about her vegan cooking experiments, and Sam’s crush on the lead singer of this new indie band, and that one crazy professor we all love to hate.

“He wears his soulcrystal in his class ring!” Lena exclaims, while driving. “It’s like the school is his life or something.”

“I think you could say that he has no life,” Sam chips in, from the seat next to me.

“I’m not even alive anymore, and I have more of a life than he does,” I say.

They laugh, and they aren’t self-conscious about it. It makes me feel like myself again, just a little. I’m glad for that, but I still feel uncomfortable with my robot appearance. I’m hoping that this shopping trip will help with that.

They go on talking about something else. But right now I’m looking out the window, at the buildings and cars and people everywhere. We’re headed to a downtown mall, and there’s a lot of traffic and there are a lot of stops and starts. Swarms of pedestrians cross the street at each red light, and the sun glints off of windows and worn soulcrystals. I rub my finger across mine, and remind myself that as long as I-

Huh. That’s odd.

Two of the people out there crossing the street are wearing cat or fox ears, like I am. And I think one of them’s wearing a tail. Is there an anime convention in town and I missed it?

We drive past, and I look back at that one. Yep, he’s wearing a tail.

Something inside me feels lighter, as we turn to pull into the parking garage. I may not feel like myself, looking like this, but something tells me I won’t feel out of place.

As it turns out, I do.

When I get out of the car, I stand there watching a woman getting something out of the trunk of her car beside us. And she glances up at me, then does a very quick double-take because I’m watching her. After that she won’t look in my direction, and her hands are shaking with nervousness.

Sam gets her cellphone out of her messenger bag and checks the time on it, and Lena arranges her purse and shuts the car door. “Alright,” she says, “let’s go.”

We walk past the woman and her baby’s stroller, and I look back at her. She was watching me go, and she turns back to face her trunk, embarrassed.

“Did anyone see that?” I say, quietly.

“See what?” Sam asks.

“Never mind.”

We get inside, and the two of them go to freshen up while I stand there at the directory. I fold my arms, feeling awkward. And while people are still coming in and out of the building, I have the directory to myself the whole time. I guess everyone else knows where everything is already?

I know that I’m not imagining it when we go into the first store, and the clerk there ignores me. She’s talking to both of my friends, laughing with them, but she doesn’t look in my direction even when Lena introduces me. She just sort of nods her head at me. Is this what it’s like to be a member of a minority race? Or wheelchair-bound, or autistic. To be aware of yourself and your surroundings, but ignored by everyone else around you, except when they’re glancing nervously at you.

My friends take me by the hand and smile at me, and we head out into the racks of clothes. But I am still thinking about that, and I’m quiet because of it. And they hold up different items of clothing next to me, and talk and laugh with each other about it, but all I can think of is children playing with dolls.

I don’t want you to get the wrong impression of them. I’ve always been like this. Sometimes I go quiet for seemingly no reason. I’m glad they didn’t try to prod me to talk to them, or start to act uncomfortable that I wasn’t. Some people do that because they’re oblivious, but they do that because they are comfortable with my presence, even when I’m not talking to them.

I’m not really depressed, anyway. Just sort of resigned. And standing here now in the changing room, trying on all these clothes, I feel like I’m playing with dolls myself. It’s like I’m the biggest, most expensive doll ever.

If I disassociate myself from the object I see in the mirror, it’s actually kind of fun. But it’s fun in a horribly depersonalizing way. And in the end I just stand there staring at myself again, and not thinking anything. Detached from my body, detached from myself, detached from the world around me. A non-person, inside and out.

I remember the ocean floor, and wonder if it might not have been better for me to have just stayed there.

A knock on the door. “Claris, are you okay in there?” It’s Lena’s voice.

I don’t say anything.

“You should come show us how you look,” she says, nervousness in her voice.

At that I start changing clothes again, putting back on the things I was already wearing. When I come out, I hand her the pile of things they picked out, and she takes it all, confused.

“This was a bad idea,” I say. “Sorry.”

Then I walk out, and stop in front of the store, waiting for them to put everything back and apologize to the clerk. I’d feel bad for them if I weren’t overwhelmed by-

That guy walked right past me wearing a tail and ears. And his girlfriend was wearing them too.

I look after them, and way out down the walkway I see what looks like someone wearing one of those sports mascot-style costumes. It looks interesting. Why can’t my eyesight zoom in on things? I’m a robot, aren’t I?

I want to go look, but I’m waiting here for my friends. Either way, I’m fascinated by it. Something is definitely up.

“Sorry,” Lena says, hurrying out with Sam to come join me. “I-”

“Does anyone know if there’s, like, an anime convention in town?” I’m not looking at her, but am watching to see if that suited person will come out from behind a kiosk.

“No, why?”

Sam coughs.

I glance over at her. “Yes?”

She seems awkward, and looks away. “There’s, um, this thing, for like, artists and costumers and stuff … ” Her voice trails off.

I’m looking at her expectantly. “Yes?”

She stumbles over her words. “They, like, draw people as animals, and dress up as them … ”

Lena’s eyes light up. “Is this that furry thing you were talking about?”

“Yes.” Her face turns red.

“What’s that?” I say.

“It’s a convention Sam wanted to go to,” Lena says. “But you called us and asked us to come over there, and we hadn’t heard from you in over a month.”

Sam kicks at something on the floor.

I glance back over my shoulder, briefly, trying to see the costumed person. Then I look back at Sam. “Did you want to go to it?” I ask.

Sam coughs, and this time she sounds a bit more confident, even though she’s not looking at me. “No, I’d like to spend time with you.”

“I’ll come,” I said.

She makes a sound like she’s choking. “Er, what?”

“Sounds like fun!” Lena says. “Can we go get something to eat first, though?”

“Sure thing,” I say.

Lena leads the way, and Sam looks like she’s in a daze. I find myself wondering why.

Piles of fried noodles and vegetables behind glass, and a woman’s accented voice asking people to take free samples. I can smell grease and sauces, but it seems dry and distant without being able to feel the warm, wet steam inside my nostrils.

Sam and Lena are hesitant about getting in line. “You don’t have to wait here while we’re eating,” Lena says.

“It’s okay,” I tell her. “I wanted to look at something, but I’ll come back once you’re sitting down.”

“Okay,” Lena says.

I walk back towards the entrance to the food court, around packed tables and people carrying trays of food, trying to find a place to sit. Most of the people are my age, and a lot of them are wearing ears and a tail or some other animal-themed accessory.

I reach up to the top of my head, and feel the ears-hat as best as I can with these fingers. I look like I’m here for the convention, I realize, even though I’m not a “furry.” And I don’t have one of the badges these people have, with the illustrations on them, but it’s plausible that I could be hiding mine somewhere.

Can an object be a furry, I wonder? What do these people think of me?

I look out at an emptier spot in the main corridor, near the information booth and the motorized cart pool. There’s a person there wearing a gray wolf … no, fox suit. And he’s hugging people and doing a pantomime routine for them. There’s a girl standing nearby him, watching, and I wonder if they’re some kind of duo. Like how they have the buddy system for outdoor activities.

I stand there watching for some time, from far enough away that they don’t notice me. There’s a strange feeling inside me as I watch, and I’m not sure what it is. The sight just seems fantastic, in the literal sense … like something straight out of fantasy.

How is that, I wonder? How come it feels real … how come these fabric suits and accessories seem so magical? Is it just because I don’t normally see people wearing them? Or is it because somehow, it’s just close enough that it feels like it would in real life, to be around such characters? Even though they’re not really real … they’re just people wearing an object-

Something clicks.

This robot shell has been driving me crazy, because it does such a bad job of pretending to be human. But I don’t have to pretend to be human.

People are scared of me because I’m handicapped. I’m scared and nervous and frustrated with myself, because I’m handicapped. My body’s an inferior copy of a real human one, in so many ways that it’s aggravating. And imagining going through life like this is driving me to despair.

But I don’t have to do that.

I don’t have to be less than what I was. I can just accept that I’m different.

And for the first time, I’m starting to see how being different could be very, very fun.

They’re starting to walk away now. Without thinking, I stride towards them, trying to catch up.

“Excuse me … ” I say, within about ten feet. They don’t hear me.

I step around them, towards the girl that the suiter is with. “Excuse me,” I say.

She’s a little surprised, and he feigns shock, acting like he’s taken aback and putting one paw over his muzzle. “Yes?” she asks, smiling at me.

“I, um … ” I can barely look at them, I’m so nervous.

The costumer gestures with his hand-paws, to invite me in a cheerful way to continue. I take my hat off and clutch it to my chest, wringing it in my hands as the words spill out. “I was, um, in a bad accident recently … as you can tell … ”

He puts both paws to his muzzle, as though he’s sorry to hear that.

“And I’m not really a furry, and I’m not even going to the convention that you are, but I thought … I, um … ”

“Yes?” the girl asks.

I close my eyes, and force myself to hold still. “It’s so frustrating not being human anymore. I want to cry sometimes, and I can’t even do that. But I’m looking at the costumes that people are wearing here, and … ”

“You want to get your own fursuit?” she asks.

“No.” I shake my head, and look up at her. “I want to … I … ”

Now, I know my new body can’t cry. But I must have sounded like I was about to tear up, because the fursuiter spread his arms wide just then.

I hugged him tight, pressing my face into his shoulder and imagining myself crying on it.

Sort of like how he was imagining being a fox …

But for me, and for him, and for the people around watching us, that was enough.

I have a tail. I can feel it behind me, laying on the same hard surface I’m sitting on.

But I don’t have a head. It’s a little disorienting.

I kick my feet and swish my tail experimentally, and I feel my tail brush up against things. I swing it more vigorously, and I feel them being knocked away and sent flying. This is fun! I keep doing it for a few seconds until something raps on my knee, and it occurrs to me that I’m making a mess. I hold still.

I feel something lower onto my neck, and a second later there are hands on my shoulders, holding me in place as something locks onto me and is tightened. Then-

*blink*

I’m inside Sam’s parents’ basement. There are stone walls, and windows up near the ceiling. I can see Lena’s arm holding me still, and Sam standing there holding a tool of some kind, and wearing overalls. She’s folding her arms, and giving me an unamused look.

“Welcome back!” Lena says, just outside of my field of vision.

“Thanks,” I say, and swish my tail happily. It knocks something off the table and onto the floor, rattling and clanging.

“Stop with the tail!” Sam exclaims, and goes to pick up the thing I knocked off.

I put one hand behind me so I can turn around and look, careful not to bump my tail. I can see my muzzle in front of my field of vision, but it’s blurry because I’m not focusing on it. I blink twice while looking at the jar of tiny nails that Sam sets back on the table, and there’s a rushing, disorienting sensation as my eyesight zooms in until I can read the label.

I blink once to go back to normal vision, with another rush of false movement, and shake my head to clear it. “I think the zoom lenses need to be calibrated,” I say.

“Feels like you’re accelerating?” Sam asks, tapping controls on her tablet.

“Yes,” I say, and nod.

“That isn’t hardware-related.” She looks up for a second. “It’s ghost sensations from your soulcrystal. You’re used to being inside a body that feels that way when it accelerates, so even though your accelerometer stays still your core thinks you’re whooshing forward.”

“Interesting … ”

Lena steps back and looks at me. I feel a little self-conscious, and start kicking my legs off the edge of the table again. I want to see what I look like, but I haven’t been offered a mirror yet, and I’m too nervous to just look down.

There are interesting displays along the edge of my field of vision, though. (I asked for them this time around, because I wanted to see what was going on with my hardware instead of having it isolated from me.) One of them looks like a gauge, and this red line is rising on it.

“Um … ” I look over at Sam. “I think I’m starting to overheat.”

“That’s because you’re a gaming PC on stilts wrapped in a fursuit, and I haven’t turned on your cooling systems yet.” She taps the screen on her tablet with what looks like a pen. “Engaging air cooling … ”

I’m startled by a sudden rush of breath, as air comes pouring in through my nostrils.

” … and now, liquid cooling.”

I hear a gurgle of flowing liquid, and look around to see where it’s coming from, finally taking hold of the tube that’s plugged into my back along with the cables. A moment later I feel the extra weight, and the cold flow of liquids inside me. It feels like drinking a glass of ice water, after a day in the sun.

“When it gets too hot, it’ll evaporate out through your fur and your breath,” Sam tells me. “You’ll need to refill it with bottles of liquid coolant, although water will do in a pinch.”

“How do I refill it?” I ask, in between breaths.

“I’ll set up the external tank in your house, and show you how to use it. If you’re out and about, though, you can just drink it. Carry a bottle with you, so you don’t have to-”

She goes on about galvanic corrosion and tap water, but I’m just sitting there kicking my feet and swishing my tail a little, and grinning like an idiot. I know all the parts that went into me; I paid for them myself. There’s nothing special about them. But sitting here feeling my chest rise and fall with each breath as delicious, cold fluid pumps through me, I feel something that I haven’t in months.

I feel alive.

And I have a tail now. I run my hand over it, and feel how fluffy it is. I’m not going to get over that anytime soon.

“Would you like to see yourself in the mirror?” Lena asks.

I nod to her, and Sam unplugs me from the coolant tank and her PC. Then they both help me down, and I try to walk on unsteady legs. It feels like I’m walking on the very tips of my toes, and my brain- well, my soulcrystal thinks they can’t possibly support my weight. I stumble and catch myself on the table, and Lena catches my elbow and helps me back upright. But then I take the leap of faith, balancing on digitigrade feet as my tail swishes behind me, and it works just fine.

I walk, slowly and carefully, around the table to the full-length mirror, as my friends follow behind me. Then I stop right in front of it, hesitating even though I’ve already seen my new hardware from outside. It was so beautiful, and the thought of facing the fact that I am that now makes me nervous.

“Go ahead,” Lena says.

I hold my breath, and step in front of the mirror.

There I am, looking for all the world like a bluish-gray fox fursuiter. One with a swishing tail, and twitching ears, and eyes that track what they’re looking at. Artificial fur covers me from head to toe, soft and luxuriant, except for my pawpads and the soulcrystal set into my chest. I suddenly want to hug myself.

I turn around every which way, staring at myself in awe, admiring the craftsmanship and unable to get over how it moves when I do. The realism is stunning … I lean in close and stare at my face in the mirror, watching my eyes track and muzzle drop open. I look almost like a real animal. But what I resemble most is a life-sized, very high-quality plush toy. I’m safely outside of Uncanny Valley.

“Is it to your liking?” Lena asks.

“One second … ” I take a deep breath, and then exhale on the mirror.

It fogs up.

I want to cry now, but I still can’t do that. So instead I just hug them both. “Thank you,” I say.

It feels like hugging an enormous plushie, and is the best feeling I’ve ever had. Because this time I’m the plushie, and I can’t think of anything else that I’d rather be.