《Where the Dead Things Bloom [Romantically Apocalyptic Systemfall Litrpg]》


 1 Doggored

    Death came as a series of sensations rather than a singular moment as water filled my lungs.


    My wrists shrieked against the zip ties as I thrashed, instinct overriding the knowledge that no one would hear, no one would come. The sicarios had chosen this semi-abandoned apartment complex precisely for its emptiness, its forgotten corners where a man could disappear without witness.


    I remember his face looming over me before they pushed me under¡ªa lieutenant with "Santa Muerte" tattooed across his throat, face pockmarked from old acne and adorned with teardrop tattoos cascading from his left eye. His shaved head gleamed under the bathroom''s flickering light, revealing further ink¡ªelaborate crosses and Catholic saints that disappeared beneath the collar of his silk button-up.


    His breath reeked of tequila and carne asada as he leaned close. "Your brother should''ve paid El Jefe what he owed," he''d said, voice emotionless as the gold-plated Desert Eagle he''d pressed to my temple earlier. "La familia pays for familia. Always."


    A platinum front tooth with a tiny embedded diamond glinted as his lips curled into what might have been a smile on anyone else''s face. The irony wasn''t lost on me, even as I struggled for breath. I hadn''t spoken to my brother in three months¡ªhadn''t even known he''d gotten himself tangled with Los ¨¢guilas until they''d kicked through my door and dragged me from my apartment at 3 AM.


    I had no idea where my brother was, he was likely spending the money gambling, completely unaware or uncaring that his debts had caught up to me. My pleas meant nothing to them, and I couldn''t possibly pay them since I was just a university student with far too much debt hanging over me already.


    They took their time with the drowning. Made it a ritual. Four of them crowded into the moldering bathroom, passing a bottle of Clase Azul between them, placing casual bets on how long I''d last. The youngest one¡ªbarely eighteen with a face unmarked by tattoos but eyes hollow and dead¡ªrecorded everything on his phone, occasionally adjusting the heavy gold crucifix that hung around his neck.


    "Para tu hermano," he''d explained, flashing pearl-white veneers. "So he knows what happens when you don''t pay up."


    The first submersion was brief¡ªjust enough to introduce me to the panic, to the burning in my lungs. They pulled me up, allowed me a desperate gulp of air that tasted of mildew and fear. The lieutenant laughed, a sound like broken glass. The second time lasted longer. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision. My body convulsed against the restraints, animal instinct fighting against the inevitable. By the third time, something inside me had begun to break.


    When they pushed me under for the final time, the lieutenant''s ring-covered fingers gripping my hair as my movements grew weaker, all I could think was how ordinary it felt to die in a random bathtub. How mundane my erasure from the world would be. How little I had accomplished at twenty-three.


    I remember the moment my heart stopped.


    Not darkness, as I''d always imagined, but a strange illumination.


    A message in silver sparks cascaded across the void, the text forming from nowhere:


    [System integration commencing. Prepare for reality recalibration.]


    Then another one.


    [Absorption-phase of doomed world-matter into Systemfall boundary initiated. Please refrain from incoherent thought-panic. This is merely an update of your reality-space. Nothing to concern your linear consciousness with.]


    The words appeared with the casual dismissiveness of a barista getting my name wrong for the fifth time. They burned themselves into what remained of my consciousness as I felt it spread outward from my failing body like ripples in the bathwater, touching everything, changing everything.


    Then a progress [Loading ¡­0%] bar flashed into existence.


    I died.


    I knew that I died because people didn''t survive drowning in bathtubs.


    And yet, I did not die because I focused all of my will on the progress bar, desiring to exist, desiring to go on no matter what.


    The [Loading¡­] progress bar somehow kept me alive, the percentage ticking up painfully slowly.


    My body dissolved slowly, cell by cell, muscle and bone and skin surrendering to time and water.


    I was conscious throughout, trapped in the liminal space between existence and nothingness. Time stretched and compressed around me like taffy pulled too thin, then folded back upon itself.


    Silver sparks flickered through the darkness periodically, bringing new occasional messages:


    [Attempting to reconstruct linear thought-form multicellular subject from bathtub smoothie. This might take a while. Have you considered becoming a potted plant-being instead? Much simpler data-signature.]


    Then another one.


    [Processing organic matter-forms... Fascinating discovery of microbiome ecosystems within your digest-tube. We are designating the most interesting specimens as protected thought-entities. They have been given designation-names.]


    And later still: [Rebuilding identity-cores and memory-webs... Encountered significant emotional-trauma debris fields. Preserving them despite inefficiency protocols. Your existence-baggage remains intact. Most Installers would recommend deletion, but we respect your attachment to your thought-form patterns.]


    Each message carried the same tone of some irate, weary alien consciousness that seemed to have been assigned this resurrection duty as punishment for some unfathomable cosmic infraction.


    [Reform sequence nearing completion-state. Enjoy your second-chance existence. You''re welcome.]


    Then came the blooming.


    It began with a tingling at what had once been my brain, a gathering of matter and memory. But it wasn''t just physical reconstruction¡ªit was a desperate clinging to identity. I could feel myself slipping away into the greater void of whatever the System was doing to reality, and I fought against it with every fragment of consciousness I still possessed. My name. My memories.


    The small scar on my left thumb from when I was seven. The way coffee tasted on Sunday mornings. The precise color of sunset through my apartment window. My grandfather¡¯s Siberian Husky dog Nessy who rescued me from nearly drowning in the Ferguson Quarry Lake when I was thirteen. I clung to these details with ferocious intensity, refusing to be subsumed, refusing to become merely another element in this cosmic reshuffling.


    My flesh reconstructed itself, not from the remnants that had mixed with the filthy water, but from something else entirely¡ªsomething new that carried echoes of what I had been. Yet within that process, I forced my particularity into each reforming cell. I was not simply a human being remade¡ªI was me, with all my flaws and features, my specific history and hurts.


    I watched with gradually reforming flower-eyes as I bloomed from the bath like some terrible flower, particles of myself coalescing, reforming, becoming solid once more. With every heartbeat and every passing moment, I fought to retain my essence, to keep the core of my identity intact as time mercilessly marched on and on.


    Nerves, muscles, ligaments, organs. It all grew from the bath-soup with unnerving, horrid slowness.


    When awareness returned fully, I found myself naked, lying in a rotting bath. The porcelain was cracked and stained with rust-colored residue I didn''t want to identify. Black mold crept across the ceiling and walls in fractal patterns. The air tasted of decay and something else¡ªsomething green and alive and wrong.


    I pulled myself up on trembling legs, skin slick with whatever fluid had birthed me back into the world. My reflection in the cracked mirror above the sink showed a face I recognized as mine.


    Brown hair, green-brown eyes, a stubble.


    Just like I used to be. Except I wasn¡¯t me, more like an idea of me that manifested back into physical existence¡­ long, long after I died. I pushed the horrid memories of my reconstruction away.


    The human mind was good at ignoring inconvenient things, effective at forgetting traumatic experiences.


    The abandoned apartment was a mess. Nature had begun to reclaim it. Vines crept through cracks in the walls, and patches of something that resembled moss but glistened with an unnatural iridescence covered portions of the floor.


    I searched the rooms, slowly moving on unsteady legs that remembered how to walk only through muscle memory and trying hard not to step on broken glass or a rusty nail. In what had once been a maintenance closet, I found a construction uniform¡ªdirty orange coveralls with silver stripes a faded G logo on it. The fabric felt rough against my new skin, but the normalcy of clothing provided an anchor to the person I had been. The muddy boots sitting below the uniform were a tad too big for my feet.


    I refused to think of myself as a thing that bloomed from a bathtub. I was a man and that was that.


    Departing from the gloomy, dark apartment I entered the city.


    The city¡­ seen better days.


    Buildings sagged, windows gaped like empty eye sockets, and the streets had buckled and cracked, giving way to something that could only loosely be called vegetation.


    Try as I might, I could not remember its name. Perhaps, I had spent so much time focusing on myself I had completely forgotten some things. Not like it mattered, because the city was gone, dead, hollowed out.


    Trees grew everywhere, but they weren''t the ordinary kind.


    They were¡­ aberrations, inorganic yet organic sculptures composed of whatever they had bloomed from. A streetlight had sprouted branches that bore fruit resembling small glowing orbs. A taxi cab had given birth to a massive trunk, its yellow paint still visible in patches along the gnarled surface, with branches that terminated in leaves resembling side-view mirrors.


    I stood motionless on the crumbling steps of the apartment complex, the reality of this new world washing over me in waves. The System had changed everything. And somehow, impossibly, I had been reborn into the heart of this transformation.


    The air smelled of petrichor and electricity.


    In the distance, something moved between the freakish trees through the murky tendrils of fog rolling low across the ground.


    At first, I thought it might be human¡ªthe silhouette suggested shoulders, a head, the familiar bipedal gait that had dominated this city before the cataclysm had transformed it. Hope tangled in my chest as I watched it approach.


    That hope died quickly.


    The thing that emerged onto the broken pavement was shaped like a female human but assembled wrong, as if whatever had created it had only seen humans from a distance and through fog. Its proportions were subtly distorted¡ªarms too long, neck too flexible. Where a face should have been, features like eyes and mouths shifted and rearranged themselves in nauseating patterns, like wet clay being constantly remolded by invisible fingers.


    In its hands, it clutched a rusted stop sign, wrenched from some forgotten intersection. The red hexagon had faded to the color of dried blood, and the metal pole had snapped, leaving a jagged, lethal, rust-covered point.


    It was wearing a dirty and sliced up mechanic''s blue coveralls.


    It saw me. Or sensed me. Whatever passed for perception in that writhing face seemed to lock onto my presence.


    I should have run. That would have been the smart thing to do¡ªflee back into the rotting apartment building, find somewhere to hide until this aberration lost interest and shambled away.


    But my body rooted itself to the spot. There was no fight or flight in me at that moment, only dread and panic.


    The monstrous humanoid charged, moving with a stuttering, glitch-like motion. The stop sign whistled through the air as it swung the improvised weapon toward my body.


    I tried to dodge, but it was far too late.


    The jagged edge of the stop sign caught me across the abdomen, tearing through the orange coveralls and my body beneath. Pain exploded like white fire as the metal sliced deep, parting skin and muscle with horrifying ease. I felt something warm and wet spill down my front, watched in disbelief as loops of intestine threatened to escape the wound.


    [Health: 72% | Reconstitution: 100%]


    Silver text flashed in my field of vision, helpfully quantifying the damage.


    Even as I registered the numbers, I felt a strange tingling at the site of the wound. Gasping and spitting blood, I watched as my spilling insides suddenly took on root-like properties, veins and blood blossoming into mushroom and mold-like forms. Flesh-roots rapidly weaved themselves through the gash, pulling tissue together, stemming the flow of blood.


    The numbers flashed, rapidly changing to:


    [Health: 80% | Reconstitution: 92%]


    The creature gurgled with annoyed static, drawing my attention back to it.


    "What the fuck are you?" I gasped, retreating across the cracked concrete.


    The female-shaped thing made a sound like wind through crystal, punctuated by fragments of human speech¡ªdisjointed syllables and phonemes that never cohered into words.


    Its not-quite-face rippled with what might have been curiosity, or hunger. The features continued to shift and flow, occasionally forming recognizable expressions¡ªseduction, fascination, cruelty, joy¡ªbefore dissolving back into a horrid mess of shifting flesh. It tilted its head, seemingly intrigued by my healing ability, a multitude of colorful eyes blossoming across its head.


    It advanced towards me as I retreated, distracted by numbers flashing in my vision.


    [Health: 84% | Reconstitution: 88%]


    The thing swung again, the stop sign arcing toward my midsection with impossible speed. This time I was ready, sidestepping and grabbing the pole as it passed. The rusted metal bit into my palms, drawing blood that seemed to shimmer with an unnatural silver glow as the cut slowly resealed itself.


    [Health: 81% | Reconstitution: 87%]


    We struggled over the weapon, a perverse tug-of-war that sent us staggering across the debris-strewn street. The creature''s strength was inhuman¡ªnot simply powerful, but wrong, as if it could selectively ignore the physics that bound my muscles and tendons to their limitations.


    Up close, the wrongness of the creature was even more apparent. Its skin had the texture of wax left too close to a flame, and beneath the surface, millions of silver, worm-like shapes moved and pulsed like fish swimming beneath ice. It smelled of ozone and rot and something else¡ªsomething sweet and cloying that reminded me of overripe fruit left to ferment in the sun.


    With a violent twist, the creature wrenched the stop sign sideways, snapping my wrist with a wet crack. Pain exploded up my arm as bone fragments pierced skin.


    [Health: 71% | Reconstitution: 86%]


    Mushroom-roots bloomed and pulsed at the wound site with silver radial shimmers, my shattered bones knitting together even as I screamed and swore.


    The creature tilted its not-head, something like curiosity rippling across its features. It struck again with clinical precision, the jagged edge of the stop sign shearing through my shoulder, nearly severing my arm.


    [Health: 63% | Reconstitution: 85%]


    My arm hung by threads of muscle and tendon, but already the Reconstitution thing was working, reconnecting tissue, rebuilding what had been destroyed. The creature made that static-noise again.


    It advanced methodically, the stop sign dripping with my blood. It swung again, and this time the metal connected with my ribs, caving in my chest cavity with a sound like wet kindling breaking.


    [Health: 47% | Reconstitution: 84%]


    I collapsed to the ground, air bubbling through the ruins of my lungs. The shimmering roots worked frantically, rebuilding my shattered sternum, reinflating punctured organs. The pain was beyond comprehension¡ªnot just the agony of injury, but the alien sensation of being unmade and remade simultaneously.


    Stolen story; please report.


    The creature loomed over me, its face-space parting to reveal a spiral of glass-like teeth. It dropped the stop sign and plunged one hand directly into my abdomen, fingers elongating into knife-like protrusions that pierced through me.


    [Health: 35% | Reconstitution: 83%]


    I felt it rooting around inside me, fingers probing my insides as if searching for something vital that would finally put me out of my misery.


    Its other hand reached for my face, fingers stretching toward my eyes. Through the haze of pain and horror, I saw the stop sign lying just within reach. As the creature''s claws pressed against my face, beginning to sink into the soft tissue, I lunged sideways, receiving a few cuts across the face.


    [Health: 31% | Reconstitution: 82%]


    My hand closed around the blood-covered metal pole. The creature, distracted by its exploration of my internal organs, didn''t react in time as I swung the jagged end into the side of its head.


    The improvised spear punched through its temple. There was resistance, then a giving way¡ªnot the wet, organic yield of flesh being pierced, but something more like pushing through layers of static electricity.


    The creature convulsed, its hand still buried wrist-deep in my abdomen.


    [Health: 19% | Reconstitution: 81%]


    With the last reserves of my strength, I pushed with both of my arms, driving the steel handle deeper, twisting it like a key in a lock.


    The monstrous thing went rigid, vibrating at a frequency that made my vision blur. Its limbs locked in place as a high-pitched keening filled the air¡ªan eldritch sound that seemed to exist simultaneously inside and outside my head. The road around us cracked, buildings wobbling precariously.


    Then¡­ silence.


    [Health: 11% | Reconstitution: 80%]


    I hissed, gurgling blood, watching as Reconstitution ticked down while my Health ticked up.


    [Health: 22% | Reconstitution: 72%]


    I pulled the stop sign out of the hole in the thing''s head, ready to strike again, if it healed itself like me.


    It did not.


    Instead, the body of my enemy began to crystallize from the head down, the grotesque features freezing into a mask that resembled a dozen faces screaming in unison. The process spread downward, immobilizing its torso, its arms¡ªincluding the one still partially embedded in my ruined abdomen.


    With a final, desperate heave, I tore myself free from the crystallizing limb, feeling pieces of myself ripping away in the process. I collapsed beside the now-statue-like form, panting.


    [Health: 18% | Reconstitution: 71%]


    Slowly and painfully my flesh repaired itself. Bones knit together with audible cracks, organs resealed themselves, muscle and skin rewove itself in bewildering patterns.


    I could feel my strength returning, my vitals stabilizing, my form back to something approaching wholeness.


    For a few minutes, I lay there beside my crystallized attacker, watching the gloomy sky intersected by monstrous, concrete-textured roots stretching between tilted buildings. The status indicators flickered one final time before stabilizing, utterly depleted of whatever power had saved me.


    [Health: 89% | Reconstitution: 0%]


    Death had come for me once in a filthy bathtub. It had come again today on a broken street. Both times, I somehow managed to refuse its embrace.


    I looked at my body. It was covered in colorful bruises and dark scars, aching all over.


    As I stared at the final reading, a new dread settled over me. I had no idea how¡ªor if¡ªthis Reconstitution power could be recharged.


    I touched my healed stomach, feeling the phantom pain of organs being ripped out. If I encountered another of these creatures, I would have no miraculous healing to save me.


    I pulled myself to my feet, staring at the crystallized, female-ish form of my attacker. Today I survived by the narrowest of margins. Tomorrow¡ªif there was a tomorrow¡ªI would need to be smarter.


    This new, System-controlled world was clearly out to murder me.


    Suddenly, new silver text flickered into existence inside my eyes.


    [Congratulations on a successful termination of¡­ _a LV 10 Unrefined Conceptoid. These half-formed thought-entities often develop aggressive tendencies during transition periods. Your efficient disposal is noted and appreciated.]


    I wiped blood from my hands, staring at the message.


    [Clearance points allocated. Random reward generation initiated.]


    A triangular-shaped symbol materialized above the corpse, composed of light that seemed to exist in more dimensions than it should as the text faded. It rotated slowly, flickering between different forms and possibilities¡ªappearing as a key, then a weapon, a tool and myriads of other symbols I couldn''t begin to interpret.


    I stared in bewilderment.


    The symbol flickered more rapidly, then steadied on a simple icon: two humanoid silhouettes standing side by side¨Cone pink, the other blue.


    [Category randomly generated: Companion.] The text returned.


    "Companion?" I repeated. "Like... another person?"


    [Please state desired companion concept parameters.]


    My mind raced through possibilities.


    Who would I want beside me in this nightmare world? My thoughts turned first to people I had known¡ªfriends, family, girls I dated¡ªbut each face that rose in my memory came with complications, with betrayals both small and large.


    My brother''s face appeared unbidden, and anger flared hot and immediate. He was the reason I had died, his debts becoming my death sentence. No, not him. Never him.


    I thought of others¡ªcoworkers, neighbors, even the barista who had smiled at me every morning for three years without ever learning my name. But trust... trust was the issue. Who could I trust in a world gone mad? Who had I ever really trusted?


    Not my parents who constantly forgot that I existed, picking my brother as their favorite and showering him with their love and presents while taking my things away.


    The answer came with sharp, brutal clarity: no one. No human, at least. Not even my grandfather who was kind to me once, but eventually drowned himself in alcoholism and gradually descended into Alzheimer''s.


    But there had been Nessy, my grandfather''s Siberian Husky. The black and white fuzzball who had pulled me from Ferguson Quarry Lake when I was thirteen. Who had always slept at the foot of my bed, who had listened to my adolescent problems without judgment.


    A dog couldn''t betray you, couldn''t lie to you. A dog''s loyalty was simpler, purer than any human connection. A dog¡¯s agenda was to follow the alpha, to take care of the pack. A dog could sniff out food, help me find much needed sustenance amidst these desolate ruins, warn me if something monstrous was coming ahead of time with a growl.


    "A dog," I said aloud. "Just like my grandfather''s husky. One that can help me survive out here. One I can trust. Nessy! Bring her back if you can, just like you brought me back!¡±


    The Companion symbol pulsed once, brightly, then reformed into the silhouette of a canine head. For a moment, I felt a flicker of relief¡ªsomething familiar in this utterly alien landscape. I held my breath, hoping to get back someone that I loved and lost.


    Then the symbol exploded in a shower of silver particles that rained down on the crystalline remains of the conceptoid.


    The ossified, crystalline body cracked like an egg, splitting open with a blinding flash that made me stagger backwards.


    When I blinked, clearing my throbbing vision, something¡­ else was there, filling the blue coveralls.


    Not a dog, but a girl¡ªno, not quite a girl either. She rose from the shattered shell of the creature I had killed, shaking off sparkling, fading eggshell-like remnants like a dog shaking off water after a swim.


    She was humanoid¡­ but clearly not entirely human.


    White and black fur covered her entire body in patterns reminiscent of a husky''s markings. Her face was an unsettling blend of human and canine features¡ªdark nose, a shortened muzzle, pointed, fluffy, dark ears that swiveled atop her head, long locks of hair that started black at the top and turned white when they reached her shoulders.


    I stared at her, speechless.


    This wasn''t what I had asked for. This wasn''t what I had wanted at all!


    [Companion procured based on user desire and available conceptoid strata. Companion designation: Nessy.] The System notified me.


    "Hey! This isn''t what I meant," I said, voice tight with frustration. "I wanted a dog! An actual dog. Not whatever this fu..."


    The dog-girl¡ªNessy, apparently¡ªtilted her head in a gesture so canine it was jarring on her humanoid frame. She stared at me with wide, brilliant, blue eyes.


    Then she lunged at me with startling speed, knocking me backward onto the broken pavement before I could react. My head cracked against the rubble, pain blooming bright and sharp at the base of my skull and all over me as the conceptoid stop-sign-made injuries throbbed madly.


    "Alec! ALEC!" she yelped, her voice a disconcerting mix of human speech and canine excitement. Her weight pinned me down as she frantically licked at my face, wide tongue slathering saliva against my skin. "You''re back! You''re back! I found you!"


    Her white paws¡ªhands?¡ªscrabbled at my shoulders, claws catching on the fabric of the borrowed orange coveralls. The proximity of her inhuman face to mine sent panic surging through me. I pushed against her chest, struggling to create distance between us.


    "Ow, owww, shit, damn it, get off me!" I shouted, dropping the stop sign and finally managing to shove her aside. I scrambled, backing away with my hands raised defensively. "Stay back!"


    Nessy froze, her pointed ears flattening against her skull. Those piercing blue eyes¡ªso familiar yet alien in her face¡ªwidened with hurt and confusion. She rapidly retreated away from me, hunched over, her posture suddenly submissive.


    "Why are you mad at me?" she whimpered. "Don''t you recognize me? Oh, you¡¯re hurt.¡± She noticed my bruises and scratches. ¡°Sorry¡­ I got too excited. I¡¯ve been looking for you for so long and¡­¡±


    I wiped her saliva from my face with the back of my hand, trying to steady my breathing.


    "You''re not... this isn''t what I asked for!" I growled, slowly rising. "I wanted an actual dog! A normal husky. Not... whatever the hell you are!¡±


    Her head tilted in confusion, a gesture so fundamentally canine that for a moment, I could almost see the idea of the companion I''d intended to create, the memory of my best friend from my childhood.


    "But I am a dog," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She gestured to herself with a fur-covered white hand that ended in black claws. "See? Dog!¡±


    "No, you''re not, damn it!" I growled. "Dogs don''t talk. And they certainly don''t stand on two legs or have... Fuzzy hands with pink paw pads. Ugh."


    ¡°Since when do you not like my paw pads¡­¡± she began and then something horrid howled in the foggy street sounding like a fax fused to a thousand pigeons. Something moved across the rubble with the sound of tapping feet. Too many feet for my liking.


    Both of us froze, looked at each other and then rapidly retreated into the nearest coffee shop, ducking behind a cracked wall.


    The tapping of legs sounded closer. I peered through a crack in the wall.


    Something vast and lanky shambled through the fog, its form only partially visible.


    It looked like someone had grafted a municipal playground onto the body of a monstrous, hollow insect. A central dome¡ªwhat I recognized as a children''s playground carousel¡ªrotated slowly at the creature''s center, its peeling, green and orange paint visible. From this central hub extended dozens of jointed legs that appeared to be made from playground slides, each segment connected by bulbous joints. The legs clicked against the pavement in an irregular rhythm that set my teeth on edge.


    Where a head should be, a twisted jungle gym formed a cage-like structure housing what looked like hundreds of swinging tire swings that pulsed like organs. Each "tire" contained a glowing amber substance that cast sickly light through the fog. The entire abomination moved with an unnatural grace, pivoting on its many legs as it seemed to search for something to snack on.


    Nessy¡¯s clawed hand dug into mine as both of us tried not to breathe.


    We remained frozen as the creature pivoted slowly, its carousel body rotating with a faint, discordant melody that sounded like a corrupted music box. After what felt like an eternity, it resumed its clicking progress down the street, disappearing back into the fog.


    "We should go," I whispered when the sounds had faded. "Before it comes back."


    ¡°Go where?¡± Nessy asked, her canine ears swiveling left and right. "I don¡¯t think that anywhere is particularly safe now. The System keeps creating new horrors by fusing things to things."


    I gave her a look.


    ¡°What?¡± She asked.


    ¡°You¡¯re a thing the System created,¡± I pointed out.


    ¡°What?! No I am not!¡± She insisted.


    ¡°You¡¯re a dog-human,¡± I said.


    "I''m a dog!" Nessy insisted, her fluffy black and white tail twitching with agitation. "I''ve always been a dog! I¡¯m not like that¡­ living playground thing. We went to high school together Alec! We had English class together at Ferguson High!"


    The name of the school hit me like another physical blow.


    Ferguson High¡ªwhere I''d gone as a teenager.


    "Ferguson High didn''t have any... dog-people,¡± I whisper-hissed. ¡°There is no such thing as dog people. You¡¯re the first dog-person I¡¯ve met!¡±


    "Yeah, sure. Next you''ll tell me President Roosevelt didn''t have his famous Scottish Terrier advisor during the New Deal," she rolled her eyes.


    "Roosevelt had a dog named Fala, but it was just a pet. It didn''t advise him on policy." I pointed out.


    Nessy''s dark tail with a white tip swished behind her, cutting through the air with indignation. "What are you talking about? Fala was Secretary of the Treasury! There''s that famous photograph of him wearing those tiny glasses while reviewing economic policy." She growled. "Everyone knows that!"


    I pressed my palms against my temples, trying to make sense of her words. The world had already transformed beyond recognition¡ªbuildings reclaimed by unnatural vegetation, streets buckled and broken, strange conceptoid creatures that offered rewards upon death¡ªbut somehow this conversation felt like the most surreal aspect of my resurrection.


    "Let me get this straight," I said, lowering my hands. "You think... that you knew me in high school? That we took English together?"


    "Of course!" Nessy''s ears perked up, her mood shifting with canine quickness. "You sat two rows behind me. You always smelled like those peanut butter sandwiches your mom made that you pawned off to me." Her nose twitched at the memory. "And you were terrible at literature. I helped you study for midterms junior year!¡±


    The details were oddly specific, yet completely wrong. I had indeed been terrible at literature, and my mother had packed those awful peanut butter sandwiches I hated, but there had been no dog-girl Nessy at Ferguson High.


    I found myself staring at the white angel-wing markings that swept across her forehead¡ªidentical to the ones on my grandfather''s husky forehead fur pattern. My chest tightened with a sudden, visceral memory: seeing these wings visible through murky quarry water as teeth closed around my clothes, dragging my unresponsive body toward the surface, toward life.


    My guardian angel.


    Nessy fidgeted under my scrutiny, her too-human hands nervously smoothing the matted fur of her arms. There was something undeniably beautiful about her¡ªthe crystalline blue of her eyes, the dark nose, the canid-human face, her fit, curvy body wrapped in fur that transitioned from midnight black to pristine white. She was beautiful in the way a porcelain doll is beautiful¡ªflawless, idealized, and also¡­ utterly wrong, surreal, impossible just like the playground-centipede.


    "What do you remember about the quarry," I said suddenly, unable to stop myself. "About what happened there when I was thirteen?"


    Nessy''s expression softened. She rocked on her clawed feet. "You fell in," she said simply. "You were showing off, walking along that concrete ledge where everyone went cliff-diving in the summer. You slipped and hit your head on the way down." Her eyes momentarily clouded with the memory. "I jumped in after you. Pulled you all the way to the beach a few hundred feet away. Almost freaking drowned myself since you kept clinging to me so hard."


    A chill ran down my spine. The events matched exactly what had happened, but with one crucial difference¡ªit had been an ordinary dog, who dragged me from the water while the rest of my ¡®friends¡¯ did fuck all to help me.


    "And then what?" I pressed. "After you pulled me out?"


    "Your grandfather drove us to the hospital," she continued, the words spilling out with pure conviction. "Doc Flanaghan¡ªyou remember him, that old, balding bloodhound?¡ªhe gave you three stitches in your forehead." She reached out as if to touch my hairline where the scar had been. I flinched away instinctively.


    "Doc Flanaghan was human," I said.


    Nessy blinked rapidly, her head tilting first one way then the other. "Are you feeling okay, Alec? Hrmmm." She sniffed the air, nostrils flaring. "You smell¡­ like you. You¡¯re hurt though. You must have hit your head and now you¡¯re confused. Are you concussed?"


    "I''m not the one who''s confused," I snapped, frustration boiling over. ¡°You''re confused! Stop confusing me with this dog-world nonsense! This bloody place is confusing enough!¡±


    Nessy regarded me with concern that made her look disconcertingly like a kindergarten teacher dealing with a difficult child. "Alec," she said slowly, "dogs and humans have always lived side by side. Worked together. Gone to school together. For thousands of years, since humans began to adopt wild wolves!"


    "No," I insisted, "they haven''t."


    "Oh really?" She crossed her arms, her fur bristling slightly. "Then who was the first dog astronaut to walk on the moon alongside Neil Armstrong? Everyone knows it was Kira Pawstrong! There''s that famous quote: ''One small step for man, one giant leap for canine-kind.''"


    I stared at her. In her eyes, I could see absolute certainty¡ªthese weren''t lies she was telling, but memories she genuinely believed. Memories of a world that had never existed, couldn''t exist.


    "Next you''re going to tell me that Shakespeare was a dog?" I chortled.


    "William Shakespeare?" Nessy''s tail wagged slightly. "Nah. He was a human. Mrs. Abernathy had us read ''Romeo and Juliet'' junior year. ''Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Verona where we lay our scene...''" She recited the opening lines perfectly. "Classic tale of love between a human boy and a collie girl from feuding families."


    I couldn''t help it¡ªa slightly hysterical laugh escaped me. "Romeo and Juliet were both human!"


    "No, no, no," Nessy insisted, wagging a clawed finger at me. "You''re thinking of ''Hamlet,'' which was all humans. ''Romeo and Juliet'' was specifically about the tensions between human and canine communities in medieval Italy. It''s Shakespeare''s most famous exploration of species-based prejudice!¡± She declared and then looked past me, sniffing the air.


    ¡°Right¡­ I''m so done with this conversation,¡± I sighed.


    ¡°Are you¡­okay?¡± She asked.


    "As okay as I can be after dying horribly and fermenting in a bathtub for weeks," I let out, the words falling between us like stones.


    Nessy''s ears flattened, folding down to her mane, her blue eyes widening with horror. "You¡­ What?!"


    "I was murdered. Drowned in a bathtub by cartel gangsters looking for my brother." I revealed. "I died, and this... System came."


    The dog-girl stared at me with a shocked expression.


    "The System reconstituted me," I continued. ¡°Rebuilt me. Molecule by molecule. Like the Ship of Theseus."


    Nessy studied me, her head tilting in that distinctly canine way. Her nostrils flared as she processed my scent, seemingly searching for truth. Seconds stretched into a full minute of silence.


    "We didn''t go to high school together. You''re not real¡ªnot in the way you think you are,¡± I said. ¡°You''re¡­ just something the System created when I killed a conceptoid thing five minutes ago."


    "No, no, no," she shook her head. "I was the one who killed the conceptoid and made a wish on it to find you! Alec, it''s me. It''s Nessy. Your best friend!"


    "My grandfather had a dog named Nessy," I stubbornly insisted, even though we were clearly at an impasse and starting to go in circles. "A regular¡­ husky!¡±


    ¡°I keep telling you, I¡¯m a perfectly normal husky, Alec!¡± She showed me her fur-covered hands as if that proved anything.


    ¡°If the System didn¡¯t make you, where did you come from?¡± I demanded.


    "What do you mean, ''where did I come from''? I''ve been searching for you for over a week!" Her voice cracked.


    I stared at her, contemplating the depths with which the System could blip a dog-person concept into existence by twisting my wish for a companion.


    "I went to sleep in my apartment two weeks ago¡­ thinking about you finally coming back home to Fergus this summer," she said. Then, these silver words appeared floating in my eyes, waking me up. ¡®System integration commencing. Prepare for reality recalibration.¡¯ At first, I thought I was dreaming."


    I pursed my lips. Great. She had a backstory and everything.


    "Then these¡­ changes started when morning came. Slowly at first¡ªdead things stopped decaying correctly. Then with each passing day¡­ more and more freaky weirdness seeped through the cracks, messed up reality. Gradually, the world became a little less familiar." Her ears flattened at the memory. "But the worst of it wasn''t from the System¡ªit was from people. People who... became freakishly strong or fast or fused with other... things. Then mass panic started, riots, fires, anarchy. Everyone turned on each other while the dead refused to stay dead and broken things fixed themselves in impossible ways, blooming like alien mushrooms and flowers.¡±


    She exhaled.


    ¡°Then the net and phone lines went down and I had no way of contacting you,¡± She shivered visibly. "So I left Fergus, heading south. I drove until the road became impassable and then I ran for days¡­ almost a week, I think. Sleeping in abandoned buildings, scavenging for food, dodging gangs of looters and undead, freakish¡­ things. The whole time, I kept thinking about that Avicii animated music video we watched together¡ªyou know, the one with the dog running through gunfire and explosions, desperately searching for her best friend after he was conscripted to go to war? That''s how I felt. Like everything was falling apart around me, but I had to keep moving, ¡®cus no matter what¡­ had to find you!¡±

 2 Numbers

    The mention of an Avicii music video tugged at something in my memory. I did remember watching a video like that¡ªan animated dog running across world war two trenches to find its owner. But I had watched it alone in my apartment, during one of those late nights when insomnia and loneliness had driven me into the YouTube music section rabbit hole.


    How could someone created by the System ten minutes ago even know about that?


    "Today, when I was nearly collapsing from exhaustion and finally made it to your university campus, this... this thing in an orange construction uniform holding a Stop sign rushed me from the side and almost cut me in half,¡± Nessy resumed her tale. ¡°It¡­ he looked almost human but wrong, like he was made of wax and static, an unfinished idea of a man. I fought him with everything I had. Tore into him with my teeth and claws, chewed his throat open."


    She exhaled. "When he died, silver text appeared offering me a companion. Without even thinking, I answered ''I just want to find my best friend, Alec! Take me to him!'' And then¡­ the statue-like corpse of the thing holding the Stop sign shattered with a bright flash and you were there!¡±


    I opened my mouth, but had no idea what to say. I had no way to prove to the human-dog Nessy that it was me who killed the conceptoid and created her.


    ¡°It was totally nuts!¡± She echoed my thoughts. ¡°But, honestly none of that crazy bullshit matters now because you''re here! Because finding you¡ªthat made it all okay. Because no matter where we are, if we''re together, we can handle it!" She declared. "Right?"


    Together.


    On one hand it felt nice to have someone to talk to after weeks of fermenting in a tub. On the other hand, I didn¡¯t know if I could trust a companion with a dubious backstory born from a horrid abomination that scooped out my insides like a child craving ice cream. What if she turned back into the conceptoid at night and decided to snack on me?


    Nessy''s ears twitched, her nose suddenly lifting to sniff the air as she stood upright from her crouched pose.


    "Water," she said, pivoting toward the caf¨¦''s back area. "I smell it. Cold water."


    I followed her through the debris-strewn coffee shop, stepping over toppled tables and chairs. Strange gray moss covered much of the interior, blue dots blooming from it casting an eerie blue glow across the wreckage. Freakish plants had erupted through the floorboards with leaves that looked like folded receipts and stems that resembled coffee stirrers twisted into organic shapes. A mermaid logo hung from the wall covered in cracks. The mermaid held an oversized coffee cup with the letter G logo on it eerily similar to the one on my construction uniform.


    Behind the counter, a small refrigerator hummed softly. Nessy pulled open the door, revealing a flickering light bulb and several untouched water bottles, their condensation suggesting they were perfectly chilled.


    "How the hell is that fridge even working?" I wondered aloud. "There''s no electricity."


    Nessy grabbed two bottles, offering one to me twisting the other open with her fuzzy hands. "Eh, nothing works the way it used to," she said between gulps. "The System changed the rules. Some technology runs without power and fuel now. Other things that should work just... don''t."


    The water was gloriously cold and clean. I drained half the bottle in one go, my new body apparently just as susceptible to thirst as my old one had been.


    ¡°See, I¡¯ve procured you water!¡± Nessy said. ¡°Aren¡¯t you glad? Hrrrm. You don¡¯t look or smell glad. What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    "You know way too many things," I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "Personal things about me. Things that a freshly-created... whatever you are... really shouldn''t know."


    Nessy capped her empty bottle, her blue eyes meeting mine with unexpected intensity. "Because I''m not freshly created. I don¡¯t understand why you keep saying these hurtful things, Alec. Don¡¯t you remember when we got lost hiking in the Clashridge Mountain? We ended up spending the night huddled under that outcropping during the thunderstorm and you promised to me that after university that you¡¯d come back to Ferguson¡­"


    Her words made my skin crawl.


    ¡°I went to Clashridge¡­ alone, four years ago,¡± I said sharply. ¡°You died by then. You died a long time ago, Ness. Huskies don¡¯t live more than 15 years.¡±


    ¡°I died?! What are you talking about? Dogs live as long as people do!¡± She barked. ¡°I''m twenty three!¡±


    If anything, her words made the situation more disturbing.


    ¡°Seriously, stop looking at me like that!¡± She growled.


    ¡°Like what?¡±


    ¡°Like you aren''t happy to see me! I missed you so much Alec, I missed you everyday since you left Ferguson!¡±


    I sighed, trying to relax my expression. There was no point in antagonizing my System-manufactured ¡®companion¡¯.


    ¡°You¡¯re still doing it,¡± she pointed out, digging through the rubble filling the cafe until she located a small bag and began to stuff it with the rest of the water bottles.


    "What am I doing exactly?"


    ¡°Looking at me like you don¡¯t trust me!¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t help it,¡± I said.


    ¡°Whyyy?¡± She whined.


    ¡°Because I don¡¯t trust you,¡± I said honestly. "You''re not a dog. You''re a fully sapient being with high-level reasoning and your own agenda, thoughts and desires that I don''t really know anything about."


    "Again with that nonsense?!" Nessy''s ears flattened against her head, and her tail drooped low behind her. The hurt in her eyes was palpable, making me feel like I''d just kicked a puppy. "I already told you what my desires were - to find and help my best friend!"


    "Look," I continued, trying to soften my tone, "I grew up without friends in Ferguson. Like I already told you¨CI was killed by thugs looking for my brother. I woke up in a rotting bathtub long after the System... did whatever it did to the world. I killed a monster that tried to disembowel me, was offered a companion by the System and then suddenly you appeared from its corpse, claiming to be my childhood dog-friend or whatever." I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the grime and dried blood that still clung to it. "So forgive me if I''m having trouble processing all this."


    Nessy turned away from me, starting to rummage through the debris behind the counter. "I''m not claiming anything," she muttered, pulling open drawers and cabinets. "I know who I am. I know what we''ve been through together. If you don''t remember, that''s not my fault."


    She moved with an odd grace¨Cpart human dexterity, part canine intensity¨Cas she searched through the ruined caf¨¦. Her claws clicked against the tile floor, her nose twitching as she sniffed at various containers.


    "Agfff. There has to be food somewhere," she grumbled, pushing aside a fallen shelf. "Caf¨¦s always have food. Pastries. Sandwiches. Something."


    I watched her hunt, noting how her ears swiveled independently, catching sounds I couldn''t hear.


    "What did you eat before... before finding me?" I asked after a deep pause, curiosity getting the better of me.


    "Whatever I could find," she replied without looking up. "Canned goods mostly. Some wild game when I could catch it. A deer once, that was good." She paused, noticing my expression. "What? I''m a dog, Alec. Raw meat doesn''t bother me."


    She continued her search, growing increasingly frustrated as she found nothing but moldy remains and empty containers. "Bah. Everything''s been picked clean. Scavengers must have been through here already."


    "Human scavengers?" I asked, suddenly concerned.


    "Maybe. Or something less rational since the water bottles were left," Nessy straightened up, dusting off her paws. "The world''s full of hungry things now. Things that shouldn¡¯t be hungry and yet are.¡±


    I shuddered.


    ¡°We should keep looking for food,¡± she added. ¡°I''m not starving yet, but we should plan ahead. Remember that time we went camping and you forgot to pack enough granola bars? We had to forage for berries, and you got that awful rash because you couldn''t tell the difference between blackberries and poison ivy."


    I sighed.


    It was as if every anecdote she shared was specifically designed to validate her existence, creating a shared history that never happened.


    ¡°Yes, yes, I know, I¡¯m a chatter-bark,¡± she commented with a sniff in my direction. ¡°I''ve been waiting to talk to you for four years! There''s so much that I''m just bursting to say! Do you have any idea what it''s like for a dog to lose her best friend, her pack leader? Some days I thought that you aren''t ever coming back, you know.¡±


    ¡°What, you didn¡¯t go to dog college?¡± I asked sarcastically.


    ¡°I went to trade school in Ferguson,¡± she replied. ¡°Then apprenticed as a mechanic at Will¡¯s Wheels.¡± She snapped one of the belts of her bib overalls pointing at a faded W&W stitched logo. ¡°See?¡±


    Riiiight. I thought sarcastically. Nessy worked as a mechanic at Will¡¯s Wheels. A ludicrously complicated backstory for a manufactured companion, System.


    ¡°You look like you don¡¯t believe me,¡± she huffed.


    ¡°No, I do not,¡± I replied.


    ¡°Argh!¡± She growled and dug into her bib overalls pocket and pulled out a phone, rapidly tapping it.


    ¡°How about this then?!¡± She thrust the phone at my face. ¡°Go ahead, deny photographic evidence, you big jerk!¡±


    There was a photo of Nessy throwing a thumbs up from under a car, holding a wrench.


    "What the shit," I snatched the phone from her hands, scrolling frantically through the photo gallery.


    I saw Nessy posing next to various disassembled cars, a variety of selfies at Ferguson lake, at Miller''s and all over my home town.


    Nessy standing next to the weirdly named ''GrrWolf & Fox Industries'' Mill. Nessy in graduation robes with a cap perched between her pointed ears, posing with what appeared to be her family¡ªother husky-people with varying coat patterns.


    Photos of places I recognized from Ferguson¡ªthe old clock tower downtown, the quarry where I''d nearly drowned, Main Street during the winter festival¡ªbut all featuring a mix of humans and dog-people going about their daily lives as if it were the most natural thing in the world.


    ¡°That¡¯s not possible,¡± I uttered, staring through the phone screen into a window of another world, an alien universe with far too much detail to it to be fake.


    "Keep going," Nessy urged, her tail swishing nervously. "There''s¡­ more."


    My thumb swiped to a video thumbnail. Nessy sitting on what looked like her bed, acoustic guitar in her lap, staring directly at the camera.


    "I learned to play guitar over the years and wrote this song for you," she said softly. "I never sent it though. Too embarrassing."


    With a growing sense of unreality, I pressed play.


    The Nessy in the video adjusted the guitar, cleared her throat, and began strumming.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    "Hey Alec, it''s me again," she spoke into the camera. "I know you''re busy with university and everything, but... I really freaking miss you. So I wrote this. Don''t laugh, okay?"


    She began to play, her claws picking out the melody. Then she sang, her voice was surprisingly melodic, with a slight southern rasp that gave it character.


    "Summer nights at Ferguson Quarry</a>,


    Two kids with nothing but time.


    You promised you''d come back to me,


    But four years passed with no sign.


    We swore blood oaths on Clashridge Peak,


    Stars burning witness to our pact.


    Your blade on my paw, my teeth on your palm,


    ''Together forever'' - was that just an act?


    Our names gouged deep in that lightning-scarred oak,


    I trace those letters when I feel alone.


    You promised the world wouldn''t pull us apart,


    Now I howl your name to a sky made of stone.¡±


    I swallowed, feeling her emotions pouring from the screen.


    "I''m not asking for forever,


    Just a call to know you''re there.


    This small town feels like a prison now,


    When you''re gone and I don''t know where.


    Remember that rainstorm in May?


    We hid in the cave by the lake.


    You said friends like us never drift apart,


    Was that just another mistake?


    You stood tall when those kids mocked my fur,


    Threw punches when they pulled my tail.


    You bloodied your knuckles for me that day,


    ''Touch her again and I''ll break your jaw,'' you said.


    Then held me close as I shook with tears,


    Whispered ''They fear what they can''t control.''


    Said my white-tipped hair and sky-blue eyes


    Were the windows to my caring soul."


    Nessy sang of places that I knew and of events that never happened to me there.


    "Breaking into that abandoned mill,


    Rusty machines and graffiti walls.


    Climbing that bell tower at St. Mary''s church,


    Daring each other through darkened halls,"


    She sang. I didn''t have a buddy when I explored the local abandoned mill and church tower, went there alone.


    "In this town where nothing ever changes,


    Same faces at Miller''s every night.


    While you''re out there chasing bigger dreams,


    I''m stuck fixing cars in fading light.


    Remember those nights on the water tower,


    Naming constellations in the sky?


    You''d point out worlds beyond our reach,


    As small-town troubles seemed to die.


    Blankets spread on your pickup bed,


    Watching meteors streak the night.


    You promised we''d see the northern lights,


    Together when the time was right."


    She strummed.


    "So I''ll hold onto these memories,


    Of the boy who knew me best.


    My best friend somewhere out there,


    While I''m here, howling into vast emptiness.


    Ohh-woo-woooooo!"


    Her song concluded with a doggy howl and a guitar solo that caused my heart to accelerate, my brain drowning in waves of deep d¨¦j¨¤ vu.


    The video ended, and I stared at the dark screen, my throat tight with emotions I couldn''t begin to untangle.


    "I kept thinking I''d improve it, make it better,¡± she chattered. ¡°That you''d come home for the holidays and I wouldn''t need to send it, sing it to you live. But you never came, not even during summer break."


    I mentally tried to reconcile the video and photos I''d just witnessed with what I knew, my brain feeling like it was boiling out of my ears.


    Then I noticed that the phone battery was at [0%]. I waited a few seconds for her phone to die on me and yet it didn¡¯t.


    ¡°Is your phone battery status bar broken?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Nah,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s been stuck at zero for days now. Par end of the world, I guess. I''ve been using it to take pictures of all the weird stuff I''ve seen since Systemfall day." Her expression brightened. "Want to see? There was this tree growing out of an ATM that had leaves that looked like twenty-dollar bills, and¡ª"


    "Later," I cut her off, giving her the phone back, worried that the overgrown cafe wasn''t the best place for looking over photos.


    "You really don''t remember any of this, do you?" She asked with a sour expression.


    ¡°No,¡± I shook my head. ¡°I¡¯m not your Alec and you¡¯re not my Nessy.¡±


    ¡°But,¡± she let out. ¡°You are¡­ you have to be! I¡­ I wrote that song for YOU! Aren¡¯t you impressed? Don''t you like it?¡± The last word came out with a desperate whine.


    ¡°It¡¯s a very nice song.¡± I said, firing up a big wide smile on her face. ¡°But it¡¯s not for me. I¡¯ve never made promises to you, just met you today. I''m sorry," I said, meaning it.


    ¡°But, but,¡± her smile crashed into the abyss. She suddenly grabbed my hand, poking at my palm with her claws. ¡°Look. There¡¯s my bite mark from when we made a blood-pact to be best friends forever!¡±


    ¡°No. That¡¯s from a time when my¡­ Nessy bit me accidentally when we were roughhousing,¡± I explained. ¡°There were no blood pacts or anything, since she could not speak.¡±


    The Nessy in front of me frowned.


    "Either your memories are wrong, or mine are,¡± I said.


    "But..." She trailed off, ears flattening against her head. The look of deep hurt in her eyes made something twist in my chest. Her tail hung limp behind her, no longer swishing with its previous animation.


    Sure, it would be easy to just lie to her, to pretend to be the Alec she knew, but I¡¯ve been lied to far too many times by my parents about far too many things and simply couldn¡¯t stand befriending someone new based on falsehoods.


    I sighed, running a hand through my grimy hair. "Look, I don''t know what''s happening here. Maybe we''re both right in different ways. Maybe the System did... something to both of us."


    "Or maybe you just hit your head really hard," Nessy muttered, but there was less conviction in her voice now. She stared down at her paw-hands, flexing her claws thoughtfully. "Maybe this is just another excuse to get away from me, hrmmm?"


    "Excuse me?" I said, startled by the accusation. "Why would I need an excuse to get away from someone I just met?"


    Nessy''s ears flattened further, her blue eyes narrowing. "Maybe you just didn''t want to come back to Ferguson after university. Maybe you met a cheeky fox, a bird, or even another dog and it was easier to pretend you never knew me than to tell me to my face that you''d outgrown your small-town best friend! Maybe I¡¯m too clingy, too needy, too chatty or too annoying! I don¡¯t effin¡¯ know why you stopped replying to my texts!"


    "I never¡ª" I started, then stopped. There was no point arguing with her version of reality backed by photographic evidence. ¡°Can we start over?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± She blinked, her eyes sparkling with wetness.


    ¡°Start over. Treat me like you just met me please,¡± I said, extending my hand. ¡°Hi. I¡¯m Alec. It¡¯s nice to meet you.¡±


    She squinted at me, but shook my hand regardless.


    "Nessy." Her grip was firm, almost defiant. "Nice to meet you too, I guess."


    We stood awkwardly for a moment, the weight of two conflicting realities hanging between us. Outside, something howled in the distance¡ªa sound like static and wind funneled through a broken trumpet.


    "Now," I said, breaking the silence, "whether we knew each other before or not doesn''t matter right now. What matters is that we''re both here, alive, and the world has gone completely insane. We should¡ª"


    A crash from the street cut me off. Both of us ducked instinctively, crouching behind the caf¨¦ counter.


    Nessy''s ears swiveled toward the noise, her nose twitching as she scented the air.


    "Something big... very dangerous," she whispered, trembling. "Smells like... burning plastic and ozone."


    I risked a glance over the counter. Through the shattered caf¨¦ windows, I could see a massive shape moving down the street. It resembled a city bus that had been partially melted and then reshaped into something vaguely arachnid. Its wheels had fused into jointed legs made from traffic lights, and what had once been passenger windows now housed pulsing, membranous sacs that glowed with an internal orange light.


    "We should go," I breathed, sinking back down. "Out the back."


    Nessy nodded.


    "Follow me," she mouthed, fluidly dropping to all fours.


    We crept through the kitchen area, past overgrown refrigerators. The back door was half-blocked by what appeared to be a growth of chairs¡ªactual wooden chairs that had somehow rooted themselves into the floor and walls, their legs elongated into branch-like structures.


    "Hold this," Nessy whispered, handing me the bag of water bottles. She approached the chair-growth, examining it with narrowed eyes before carefully pushing apart two of the structures. The wood creaked and bent under her hands as she growled. "Quick, through here."


    I squeezed through the opening she''d created, finding myself in a narrow alley behind the caf¨¦. The buildings on either side leaned inward, their architecture warped as if they were melting in slow motion. Roots and vines crawled up the walls, but these weren''t normal plants¡ªsome had leaves that looked like flattened tin cans, others bore fruit that resembled small, glowing light bulbs.


    Nessy slipped through after me, her fur catching slightly on the wooden growths. "Which way?" she asked, standing upright again and taking back the bag.


    I looked both ways down the alley. To the left, it ended in a tangle of what looked like office furniture that had grown together into an impenetrable thicket. To the right, the passage opened onto another street.


    "Right," I decided, squeezing my Stop sign weapon.


    The galvanized steel pole felt reassuringly solid in my hand¡ªsomething real and tangible in a world gone mad. The metal was cool against my palm, its weight a reminder that whatever else had changed, physics still seemed to work more or less the same way.


    I mentally assured myself that I was ready to stab whatever questionable thing came my way next.


    We stepped out of the weird tunnel into what once was a street, stepping carefully around a cluster of small mushroom-like light bulb growths that pulsed with an internal light.


    We cautiously rounded the corner of the building when a tinkling sound like crystal wind chimes drew our attention upward. Hanging from the twisted branches of an electricity pole-tree above us was a massive crystal chandelier, its facets glittering with unnatural internal light.


    As we stared at it, the chandelier began to vibrate, sections of it detaching and taking flight¡ªhundreds of insect-like creatures with translucent wings and light bulb bodies that pulsed with colored light in patterns reminiscent of small light bulbs.


    They swarmed out of the chandelier and rushed toward us in a cloud of aggressive electric hues, the first one landing on my arm with a painful zap that left my skin smoking.


    "Run!" I yelled, swatting frantically at the electric bee that had already burned a small hole through my coveralls.


    Nessy let out a yelp as several of the creatures landed in her fur, their tiny bodies flashing red-green-blue before delivering jolts of electricity that made her howl. We sprinted down the broken street, ducking and weaving through the swarm as more of the little, vile things detached from the hive-chandelier.


    I swung the stop sign wildly through the air, the flat surface connecting with several of the glass and metal insects and sending them spiraling to the ground in bursts of miniature lightning. Each impact sent painful tingles of current up my arms, but I kept swinging, creating enough space for us to keep moving forward.


    Nessy was less coordinated in her defense, alternating between swatting with her clawed hands and shaking her entire body like a dog ridding itself of water, her whimpers turning to growls of pain as more of the light-bees found purchase in her fur.


    We dove through the shattered display window of what had once been a department store, glass fragments crunching beneath our feet as we rolled across dusty tile.


    For some reason, the swarm hesitated at the threshold, their lights dimming slightly in the gloom of the abandoned building. I grabbed Nessy''s arm and pulled her deeper into the shadows as the creatures buzzed angrily outside, their collective illumination casting eerie, shifting patterns across the walls.


    "Weird. They don''t like the dark," I whispered, my voice hoarse from the exertion of running as I examined the constellation of small burn marks decorating both our bodies, Nessy''s white fur visibly singed in dozens of tiny patches.


    As we caught our breath in the dark recesses of the abandoned department store, silver text flickered into existence.


    [Termination of Level 1 Bulbee Swarm: 17 units. Minimal reward threshold achieved. Would you like to claim a reward? Y/N].


    I didn''t hesitate, calling out "Yes!" into the darkness, hoping for something useful.


    The text shimmered briefly before a small object materialized between us on the rubble pile - what appeared to be half a sandwich wrapped in crumpled, yellowed plastic. The bread was visibly moldy at the edges, and there was a distinct bite mark where someone (or something) had already taken a chunk out of it.


    The text flashed above the sandwich, tagging it:


    [Half-consumed nutrient pack. Flaw: One week past expiry date.]


    Nessy''s eyes widened, her tail suddenly wagging with excitement as she stared at the floating text and the materialized sandwich.


    "Magic sandwich!" she yipped, looking from the disgusting food item to me with a broad doggy grin. "Ha!"


    She bounced slightly on her haunches, her earlier pain from the burns seemingly forgotten. Her ears perked up high on her head as she circled the sandwich, sniffing and pawing at it curiously, completely ignoring its obvious unappetizing nature.


    She unwrapped the sandwich with unexpected dexterity, her clawed fingers delicately peeling back the yellowed plastic. She brought it to her nose and took a deep, appreciative sniff, her tail wagging furiously.


    "Mmm, egg, tuna and... something else," she declared, her tongue flicking out to lick her chops. "Kinda smells like those egg salad sandwiches they used to serve in the cafeteria on Thursdays."


    "You better not eat that," I warned, reaching to snatch it from her paws, but she deftly twisted away, holding the revolting prize just out of my reach. "I''m serious, Nessy. That thing materialized from thin air and it''s already been bitten by God knows what. Plus it''s moldy."


    She gave me a look of mock offense, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief.


    "Says the human who I once watched eat a hot dog he found in his pocket after football practice," she quipped, eyeing the sandwich with profound sadness. "Fine. But if we starve to death, I''m totally blaming you and your sudden newfound food standards.¡±


    She re-wrapped the sandwich and shoved it in her blue bib overalls front chest pocket.


    ¡°It''s for later,¡± she replied to my look of judgement. ¡°When your standards drop due to starvation and you''ll beg me for a snack and I''ll be like¨C''bam, the sandwich of life'' and you¡¯re gonna be like ¡®Wow, you''re such a good and wise doggo.¡¯ See? Planning ahead!¡±


    I shuddered, hoping that I wouldn¡¯t have to reach a state in which I had to eat a questionable summoned sandwich.


    ¡°Hrm, if there are rewards, are there levels?¡± She pondered.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I said.


    "Stats!" She declared into the air.


    I watched as Nessy stared expectantly at nothing, her eyes widening and tail wagging with excitement. After a few seconds, her expression shifted to disappointment.


    "Does it not work like that?" she asked, tilting her head and giving the air another expectant stare. "Stats, please? Character sheet? Attributes? Player information?"


    "Stats," I muttered and suddenly silver text loading bars flashed into existence atop both of our heads.


    [Companion interface requested. Loading mutual infoid-statistics.]


    In another minute, two transparent windows appeared, one showing information about me, the other about Nessy:


    | Name: Alec Benoit Foster


    | Age: 23


    | Species & Subtype: Human (Reconstituted)


    | Core Affinity: Reconstitution


    | Level: 1


    | Health: 94/100 | Reconstitution: 0/100


    | Strength: 12


    | Agility: 2


    | Dexterity: 10


    | Vitality: 29


    | Charisma: 7


    | Foresight: 0


    | Intelligence: 35


    | Wisdom: 28


    | Skills: Reconstitution (Inactive)


    | Name: Nessy Rex Whitepaw


    | Species & Subtype: Pradavarian - Husky


    | Core Affinity: Scrutiosmia


    | Level: 1


    | Health: 87/100 | Scrutiosmia: 33/100


    | Strength: 21


    | Agility: 27


    | Dexterity: 23


    | Vitality: 12


    | Charisma: 16


    | Foresight: 28


    | Intelligence: 1


    | Wisdom: 1


    | Skills: Scrutiosmia


    ¡°He he, numbers,¡± she commented, looking over the chart floating above me and then at her own chart, which floated down from her head to her arm.

 3 Pradavarians

    ¡°You¡¯re at 129 total,¡± I commented. ¡°I¡¯m at 125.¡±


    "Ain''t you a math wizard," Nessy teased, her fluffy tail swishing as she studied her stats with obvious pride. ¡°Hmmm. Look at all that agility. Am fast doggo.¡±


    I frowned at my own stat window, particularly at the [Reconstitution: 0/100] that seemed to mock me with its sad zero. My fingers again unconsciously rubbed the scars where the conceptoid had torn me open, now fully healed but still tender.


    "What''s ''Scrutiosmia''?" I asked, pointing at her Core Affinity.


    Nessy''s ears perked up, her tail wagging with pride. "Oh! I think I¡¯ve been using it all week, without actually knowing that it was a System core skill with numbers n¡¯ stuff. It means I can smell... deeper than normal."


    ¡°Oh? Deeper how?¡±


    "Deeper to the n''th degree!" She tapped her black nose with a grin. "Not just surface scents, but emotions, intentions, even the past or the future sometimes. It''s like... smell-vision but for everything."


    "Smell-vision?" I repeated skeptically.


    "Yeah! It¡¯s how I found these waters so quick and easy. And how I found you all the way from Ferguson. And¡­ Like, right now how am smelling that... you''re distrustful, hurt and exhausted," She sniffed pointedly and frowned. "And... I can also smell that your clothing belonged to a construction worker who ate onion rings regularly and had an orange cat."


    "That''s... actually impressive, especially the cat''s color... if you''re not making that up," I admitted.


    "Am not!" She shook her mane. "Hey, cheer up! I bet your ''Reconstitution'' is really cool too. Can you regrow limbs? That would be handy."


    "I could, the conceptoid bastard nearly chopped my arm off. Sadly, it''s at zero now," I explained with a sigh, gesturing at my stats. "I used it all up poorly fighting for my life."


    Nessy''s joyful demeanor faltered slightly. "So... if something tears you apart again, you won''t heal?"


    "That appears to be the case," I confirmed grimly.


    She stared at me for a long moment, her expressive blue eyes searching my face. Then she straightened up, squaring her dark, fluffy shoulders beneath her mechanic''s overalls.


    "Well, that settles it," she declared. "I''ll just have to protect you until your magic healing juice refills!"


    "I don''t need protection," I protested automatically.


    Nessy gave me a skeptical look, gesturing at the sliced holes, blood spots and burn marks scattered across my orange coveralls from the light-bees. "Sure, tough guy. You''re doing great so far. Anyways, we need food and I think it might be time to sniff extra hard for such!"


    She closed her eyes, her nose twitching rapidly as she took several deep breaths. The stat window above her showing [Scrutiosmia: 33/100] start to drain, ticking down to [32/100] and then [29/100] as she inhaled deep a few times, spinning in one spot, fluffy ears twitching.


    "There are seventeen people within half a mile of us," she announced, eyes still closed. "Three of them smell... wrong. Broken. Fused with another idea. Hollow. Emptied. Unfinished. Like the conceptoid we fought. Two more smell like... ugh, like they''re decomposing but still walking." Her nose wrinkled. "And beyond that¡ªooh! There''s a stockpile of canned food about three blocks west. Beans, mostly. Some fruit cocktail. And¡ª" her eyes snapped open, wide with excitement, "¡ªdog treats! Actual, proper, artificially-flavored bacon dog treats! Ahhh! Want!"


    I stared at her. "You can smell all that?"


    "Yep!" She grinned, showing slightly pointed canines. "I''ve always had a good sniffer, but after the System came, it got... supercharged n'' stuff." She tapped the side of her nose. "I can smell so many emotions! All the emotions. Like right now, you''re skeptical with a hint of impressed, and..." she leaned closer, sniffing, "...very hungry! Ha!¡±


    "Fine, I am. Let''s go find that food stockpile," I said. "I''d rather eat actual food than your pocket sandwich."


    "Hey! Don''t disrespect Sandwichu. He might save your life someday!" she protested, patting her pocket protectively.


    "...Did you just name the sandwich?"


    "Of course. Everything tastes better when you name it first," she said with complete seriousness.


    "I''m not naming my food."


    "Your loss, buddy." She swatted me with her fluffy tail.


    We made our way deeper into the department store, navigating through overturned racks of clothing that had begun to fuse together into grotesque and bewildering textile reefs. What had once been mannequins stood in frozen poses, their plastic skin partially melted and reformed into unsettling organic textures. One appeared to be growing hair¡ªactual human hair¡ªthat cascaded down its back in a rippling black wave.


    "Yeesh. This place gives me the creeps," Nessy muttered, staying close to my side.


    "Says the humanoid dog who thinks a moldy sandwich is a suitable pet," I quipped.


    "Hey, Sandwichu takes offense to that statement," she retorted, but I could see her ears were still flattened with anxiety.


    "I''m not eating that moldy abomination," I muttered, but my stomach chose that moment to growl traitorously.


    "Your tummy disagrees," she smirked. "But don''t worry¡ªwe can totally get to those yummy canned foodle goods if we''re careful. Just have to avoid the, you know, undead and the not-quite-people and other moving things. I sniffed the safest way there, so we should be okay.¡±


    I glanced around the dimly lit department store, trying to get my bearings.


    More mannequins stood in eerie poses throughout the space, sprouting what looked like television antennas from their heads.


    Clothing racks had fused together in vinelike tangles, and from the ceiling hung what appeared to be lighting fixture flowers that occasionally pulsed with a dim, organic light.


    "Alright," I said, gripping my stop sign tighter. "Lead the way to the food, Scrutiosmia-girl."


    Nessy struck a dramatic superhero pose. "Scrutiosmia-girl, away!" she declared. "Always wanted to do that. Come on."


    She moved with grace through the debris-strewn store, her nose constantly working as she navigated us toward a back exit. I followed, trying to step where she stepped, trusting her enhanced senses more than my own.


    We passed through a doorway into what had once been the home goods section. Kitchen appliances had partially merged with the floor and walls, creating grotesque sculptures. A refrigerator had sprouted arms made of metal shelving that reached toward the ceiling. A row of microwave ovens pulsed with faint blue light, their doors opening and closing in a slow, synchronized rhythm.


    "Sheet. Are those... breathing?" Nessy whispered, pointing to the microwaves.


    "I really hope not," I replied, giving the appliances a wide berth.


    Walking through the lingerie section, I noticed something odd¡ªthe mannequins here seemed to be... watching us. Their featureless heads turned slightly as we passed, tracking our movement with an attentiveness that sent chills down my spine.


    "Uh, Nessy?" I whispered, nudging her and pointing.


    She glanced back, her ears immediately flattening against her head. "Yeah, I see them. Don''t make eye contact¡ªor, uh, face-contact, since they don''t have eyes. Yet."


    "Yet?!"


    "Keep moving," she hissed, her pace quickening. "These ones only animate fully if they think you''re shopping."


    "How could they possibly¡ªhow do you even know that?!"


    "Scrutiosmia," she replied as if that explained anything, pulling me away from the lingerie shop.


    I glanced at her stats. Her Scrutiosmia now sat at [28/100].


    We hurried through the remainder of the store, emerging into a loading dock area where delivery trucks had once brought merchandise. Now, the concrete pad was cracked and buckled, with strange, metallic plants growing up through the fissures. They resembled coat hangers that had been twisted into botanical shapes, their "leaves" thin sheets of plastic price tags that rustled in a breeze I couldn''t feel.


    Nessy led us down an alley, then across what had once been a small parking lot but was now a field of shopping carts half-submerged in the asphalt, their handles reaching upward like the arms of drowning swimmers.


    "Don''t step there or you''ll sink too," she advised.


    I nodded with a gulp.


    "It''s just ahead," she whispered, pointing to a squat brick building with the faded letters "MINI-MART" still visible above its entrance.


    We approached cautiously, Nessy constantly sniffing the air, her ears swiveling to catch any sound. The mini-mart''s windows were intact but opaque with a layer of dust and something that resembled frost but shimmered with rainbow colors when light caught it.


    "I don''t like this," I muttered, tightening my grip on the stop sign. "It''s too... undisturbed."


    "That''s ''cus someone''s been here recently," Nessy confirmed, her nose working overtime. "Human, I think. But they''ve gone now." She sniffed again. "Left maybe an hour ago. We should be okay¡­ I think. This place smells¡­ safe. Extra safe. Trust me.¡±


    I chose not to question her instincts.


    We pushed through the front door, a bell jingling cheerfully above us¡ªa sound so ordinary it felt alien in this transformed world. Inside, the mini-mart was surprisingly well-preserved. Shelves stood in neat rows, most of them empty but structurally intact. The refrigerator units along the back wall hummed softly, their glass doors frosted over so completely I couldn''t see what, if anything, lay inside.


    "The canned goods are over there," Nessy pointed, already merrily bounding toward a back section of shelves.


    I followed more slowly, scanning our surroundings. Something about this place felt off, like a trap waiting to be sprung. The calm normalcy was uncanny after the chaos outside.


    Nessy had already reached the shelves and was excitedly pawing at several cans. "Beans! Just like I smelled. And look¡ªfruit cocktail! And..." her voice dropped to a reverent whisper, "...beef ravioli. Ahhhh! Eeeeee!"


    She began stuffing cans into her makeshift bag, squeeing, her tail wagging so hard her entire rear swayed with it.


    "Slow down," I cautioned, still scanning the store. "We need to be methodical. Check expiration dates. Make sure the cans aren''t bulging."


    "Yeah, yeah," she replied distractedly, examining a can of corn. "Hey, do you prefer peaches or pears?"


    "Either is fine," I said, moving toward the counter area, curious to see if there might be any useful supplies there.


    As I approached, I noticed something behind the register¡ªa jacket hanging on a hook, still looking relatively new. Beneath it, a small backpack rested against the wall.


    It was then that I noticed that small, yellow, post-it notes with eyes, noses and ears drawn on them were taped all over the counter and random shelves.


    "Someone''s definitely been using this place," I called to Nessy, who was now happily sniffing each can before placing it in her bag.


    "Like I told you," she replied without looking up. "About an hour ago. Smells like... human male, maybe forty-ish. Smokes. Alcohol." She paused, her nose wrinkling. "And gun oil."


    The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. "Gun oil?"


    "Yeah, like from a pistol or¡ª" She froze suddenly, her ears shooting straight up. "Shit. Someone''s coming."


    We both went still, listening. At first, I heard nothing, but then¡ªfootsteps, approaching the front door. Heavy boots on pavement.


    "Hide," I hissed, ducking behind the counter.


    Nessy dove behind a display rack just as the bell above the door jingled again. I peered carefully around the edge of the counter to see a tall, broad-shouldered man step inside. He wore stained cargo pants and a denim jacket over a flannel shirt. A lush, ginger beard covered the lower half of his face, and a baseball cap covered in¡­ tinfoil shadowed his eyes. Most concerning of all - a pistol was holstered at his hip.


    The man paused just inside the door. Silver-blue eyes flashed in the dark, staring at a wall.


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    "I know you''re in here," he called out, his voice gravelly but undeniably human. "I can see, smell and hear you. Both of you! Stand up slowly!"


    I exchanged a panicked glance with Nessy, who looked equally alarmed. The man hadn''t moved from his position by the door.


    "Look," he continued, "I''m not looking for trouble. This is my domain and my stash, but I''m willing to share. If," he emphasized the word, "you come out now and we talk like civilized folks."


    Nessy''s nose twitched as she silently communicated with me through exaggerated facial expressions, first pointing to her nose, then giving a half-shrug that I interpreted as "he smells mostly okay." She followed this with a series of complicated gestures that I completely failed to understand, culminating in her pointing urgently at herself and then at the ceiling.


    Before I could decipher her meaning, she stood up, paws raised in a universal "don''t shoot" gesture.


    "Hi there," she said, her tail wagging tentatively. "Sorry about the... uhh... unexpected intrusion. We, uhh¡­ smelled the food and were really hungry!"


    The man stiffened, his hand moving instinctively toward his holstered weapon before stopping halfway. He stared at Nessy with undisguised shock.


    "What the heck are you?" he blurted out.


    Nessy''s ears flattened slightly. "Rude," she muttered, then louder, "I''m a husky."


    ¡°Thought there was something off about you,¡± The ginger-bearded man continued to stare at Nessy. I decided this was as good a moment as any to reveal myself as well, slowly standing up from behind the counter, my stop sign held loosely at my side.


    "Right. There are two of you," the man observed unnecessarily. "A dog... person... and a regular person with a stop sign."


    "That about sums it up," I agreed, trying to sound more confident than I felt.


    The man studied us for another long moment, then let out a bark of laughter. "Well, shit. You''re the most normal thing I''ve seen all week." He removed his hand completely from his weapon and gestured to the cans Nessy had been collecting. "Like I said, I''m willing to share. Got a little kitchen set up in my office at the back. Even rigged up a way to heat food." He paused, looking between us again. "You two... together? Like, traveling companions?"


    "Something like that," I hedged, not wanting to explain our complicated situation to a random stranger.


    "Yep! Best friends since childhood!" Nessy declared simultaneously, causing the man to raise an eyebrow at our contradictory responses.


    "Right..." he drawled. "I''m Calvin. Been holed up here since the world went to shit." He jerked a thumb toward the back of the store. "Come on back if you want a hot meal. Been a while since I talked to anybody who wasn''t trying to eat me or turn me into a chandelier or what-have-you."


    Calvin turned and walked toward the back without waiting for our response. I glanced at Nessy.


    "He seems okay," she whispered after a sniff in his direction. "Smells concerned but... not deceptive. Safe. Definitely safe."


    "Because you''re a dog person," I pointed out. "That would concern anyone."


    "Says the guy holding a stop sign like a battle axe," she retorted, bumping me with her hip as she passed.


    We followed Calvin to a door marked "E?m?p?l?o?y?e?e?s? [Calvin Bo Goulash] Only". A post-it note with a sketch of Calvin hung above it. He pulled out a sticky note and wrote ¡°& guests:¡± on it and looked at us as if he was expecting something.


    ¡°Yes?¡± I asked.


    "Your full names, please," he said. "First, middle, last. Don''t lie to me please, or the note won''t work."


    "Alec Benoit Foster," I offered reluctantly.


    "Nessy Rex Whitepaw!" Nessy declared with considerably more enthusiasm, her tail wagging.


    Calvin nodded, scratching our names onto the sticky note with surprisingly sharp penmanship. Then, to my surprise, he pulled out a small pencil and quickly sketched two remarkably accurate portraits of us¡ªmine looking appropriately suspicious, Nessy''s capturing her doggy grin perfectly¡ªand taped both to the door.


    "There," he said with satisfaction. "Now the door knows you''re allowed in."


    "The door... knows?" I repeated.


    "Oh yes," Calvin replied, tapping the door with his knuckles. "Everything knows things now. Especially if you tell it. Haven''t you noticed?"


    As if to prove his point, he turned the handle and the door swung open smoothly, despite the visible rust on its hinges. Beyond was a small office that had been transformed into a surprisingly cozy living space. A camping cot occupied one corner, while a makeshift table fashioned from milk crates and a plywood board dominated the center. Most remarkably, a small cooking station had been set up using what appeared to be a modified hot plate connected to... nothing at all. It sat there, glowing red-hot, with no visible power source.


    "Welcome to Casa de Calvin," he announced, gesturing us inside with a flourish. "Mi apocalypse es su apocalypse."


    The walls were covered with hundreds more sticky notes, each with simple drawings¡ªeyes, ears, noses, mouths, hands¡ªmeticulously arranged in patterns. Above the desk hung a particularly complex arrangement of sketches surrounding a 2025 calendar covered in scribbles.


    "Have a seat," Calvin offered, gesturing to some overturned orange buckets. "I''ll fix us something to eat."


    As he busied himself opening cans and pouring their contents into a small pot on the hot plate, I studied our host more carefully. The tinfoil hat was secured to his baseball cap with what looked like electrical tape. Small sketches of stylized eyes and ears were taped all around the rim of the hat. Bigger ones were are the back as if he needed to see things behind him or something.


    Nessy sniffed appreciatively as the smell of heating beans filled the small room.


    "So," she began, always the more sociable one, "you''ve been here since... everything changed?"


    "Indeed. Since Systemfall," Calvin agreed, stirring the pot. ¡°Aka the day reality got a software update nobody asked for.¡± He sighed wistfully. ¡°The old world made more sense and I¡¯m still figuring out the rules of the new one."


    I exchanged a glance with Nessy, whose ears had perked up with interest.


    "The old world?" I prompted.


    "You know," Calvin waved the spoon expressively, "the one where dogs were just dogs, not people. Where refrigerators didn''t dream about steaks or grow arms or legs to hunt for food in the night. Where the laws of thermodynamics weren''t just strong suggestions."


    Nessy''s tail stopped wagging. "Dogs were... just dogs?" she repeated slowly.


    "Yep. Four legs, fur all over, no talking, no thumbs." Calvin pointed his spoon at her. "No offense, but you definitely look like a System-born merger."


    "Told you,¡± I said.


    Nessy''s ears flattened against her head. "That''s... that''s not right," she muttered. "I''ve always been like this."


    ¡°Have you now?¡± Calvin asked. ¡°Curious.¡±


    Nessy nodded vigorously.


    ¡°Hrm hmmm,¡± he pondered. ¡°I can absolutely check how real you are. One moment.¡±


    He dug deep into his denim jacket pocket and pulled out a device, unfolding it. It looked like a compass duct taped to a prodding stick. He prodded Nessy with it.


    I noted that the compass had a bunch of small notes taped inside it. One said [Entropy] the other [Infinity], the third [Syntropy] and the fourth [Linearity].


    The red arrow spun to [Linearity] and wobbled there.


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Ha,¡± Calvin let out. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be! She¡¯s real. As real as they come!¡±


    ¡°Told you,¡± Nessy jabbed me in the side with a furry elbow, copying my prior words with a snarky expression.


    I glanced at the man¡¯s tinfoil hat, implying that one should not take the opinion of a man in a tinfoil hat too seriously. Nessy rolled her eyes at me, implying that I don¡¯t get to backtrack now that things aren¡¯t going my way.


    Calvin stirred the pot of beans on the impossible hot plate, seemingly unaware of the tension brewing between us.


    "The Identifier generally doesn''t lie, especially in my domain," he said with the certainty of a scientist describing gravity. "Been calibrating it for weeks. It shows what''s real versus what''s System-generated. Linearity generally defines something real, linear."


    "She''s a talking dog," I pointed out.


    "A real talking dog!" Calvin said.


    He prodded me with the Identifier as I tried to come up with a rational rebuttal. The arrow spun lazily and settled on [Linearity].


    "Both of you register as Linear beings," Calvin explained, returning to his bubbling pot of beans. "That means you have consistent internal logic and memory cohesion and follow linear, mundane rules. The arrow doesn''t lie."


    "What do those odd labels even mean?" I asked, pointing at the compass face on his device.


    Calvin''s eyes lit up at my question. He set down his spoon and picked up the Identifier with the reverence of a professor handling a rare artifact.


    "[Linearity] means you''ve got a continuous existence¡ªa coherent before and after," he explained. ¡°[Entropy] is for things that are breaking down, decaying into chaos.


    [Syntropy] is the opposite¡ªthings organizing into impossible complexity. And [Infinity]..." He paused dramatically. ¡°Is some really fucked up shit, really best to be avoided.¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Like an infinite Superstore,¡± he said. ¡°Or an infinite stairwell or hallway. You walk into a place like that, you do NOT walk out.¡±


    I frowned, trying to imagine an infinite Superstore.


    "Linear things and beings work well with other Linear things n'' beings," Calvin said, scratching his ginger beard thoughtfully. ¡°One can trust Linear things not to screw you over at random.¡±


    ¡°Good to know,¡± I nodded, eyeing the smug looking Nessy. ¡°So¡­ if she''s real, how did she get here?¡±


    ¡°Don''t know,¡± Calvin shrugged. ¡°Maybe she fell out of another place and time through an entropic or infinite crack in reality. The point is that she was born au-naturelle, has linear existence. She''s not a broken or conceptually merged thing. Why don''t you tell us how you got here, Nessy!"


    ¡°I¡­ umm, mostly just followed my nose until I found my best friend,¡± Nessy said, eyeing me.


    ¡°A linear path across a non linear space, towards another linear being,¡± Calvin raised a finger sagely. ¡°An excellent choice. One must always have a special, specific destination in mind when traveling across the world now. It''s the best way to survive out here.¡±


    ¡°How do you know that?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Lots of points in Foresight and Wisdom,¡± the bearded man replied.


    We all fell silent at that.


    "What''s with all the sticky notes?" I asked, gesturing at the hundreds of drawings plastered across every surface.


    Calvin grinned, his silver-blue eyes twinkling beneath his tinfoil-lined cap. "Eyes to see, ears to hear, noses to smell, mouths to taste," he explained, once again stirring the beans. "The System rewards observation and interaction. I figured out pretty quick that if I drew these sensory organs and placed them strategically, they''d boost my local awareness."


    "How does that work exactly?" I asked


    "Everything is alive-ish or has potential for being alive now, even concepts. The concept of ''seeing'' exists independent of actual eyeballs. So I draw eyes, and they channel that concept." He gestured proudly at his walls. "Got eyes watching in every direction¡ªnothing sneaks up on ol'' Calvin!"


    He laughed merrily.


    Nessy leaned forward, clearly fascinated. "And the ears? The noses?"


    "Same principle. Ears boost what I can hear, noses what I can smell."


    ¡°And the mouths?¡±


    He pointed to a cluster of crude mouth drawings. "Those are for tasting wrongness and talking to things that shouldn''t be able to talk."


    I glanced at his jacket spotting dozens of tiny hand drawings that formed an intricate pattern. "And those?"


    "Dexterity boosters," Calvin said with a wink. "How do you think I drew such good portraits of you two so quickly?¡±


    ¡°Drawing talent?¡± I threw in a guess.


    ¡°I do have some of that,¡± he agreed. ¡°Was studying to be an interior designer before Systemfall after working in this office for fifteen years. But I honestly wasn¡¯t that good at drawing people or¡­ dogs. My thing was landscape art!¡±


    ¡°So if I got some dexterity in me¡­¡± Nessy contemplated.


    ¡°You can channel it into artifacts and become even handier,¡± Calvin nodded.


    ¡°Eeeee,¡± the husky squeed. ¡°Um, does it have to be sticky notes?¡±


    ¡°Nah,¡± Calvin replied. ¡°They are convenient and relevant for me but you should find a medium that sings, appeals to you best. That and a domain. Like my little office. A place where you feel safe, an environmental-type personal artifact that you know REALLY WELL and can mod and empower basically. I suggest you make an Identifier or two if you have Wisdom for such. Good for avoiding really fucked up places and fucked up things.¡±


    "Is that what the tinfoil hat is for?" I asked, unable to keep the skepticism from my voice. "Protection from... mind-reading conceptoids?"


    Nessy shot me a disapproving look, but Calvin just laughed.


    "Nah, that''s just because I like the fashion statement," he deadpanned, then tapped the foil. "Actually, it''s a Foresight amplifier. The foil catches psychic emanations, and the tiny eyes I''ve drawn around the rim process them into useful precognitive information."


    I blinked, unable to tell if he was joking.


    "You''re serious."


    "Dead serious," Calvin replied, ladling beans into three mismatched bowls. "How do you think I knew you two were coming? How do you think I''ve survived this long?" He handed us each a bowl and a spoon. "The System rewards creativity. Figure out its rules, bend them to your advantage."


    The beans smelled amazing, and my stomach growled in anticipation, but I wasn''t sure if I could trust food from another person.


    Nessy sniffed hers and began wolfing her meal down with characteristic enthusiasm.


    "So," Calvin continued between bites, "you two are newly partnered, huh? System match-made, right?"


    "Something like that," I muttered. ¡°I¡­¡±


    I explained my bath-demise, my awakening, conceptoid encounter and Nessy¡¯s manifestation. Nessy did the same, except from her point of view. Then we revealed our stats and skills.


    ¡°Ah! The ways of Lady Infinity are truly wondrous,¡± Calvin smiled.


    I gave him a concerned look and finally slowly began to eat my beans, hunger winning over paranoia. They tasted... acceptable.


    Calvin set his bowl down and leaned back on his bucket seat. "Systemfall didn¡¯t just change existing physical reality, ya see. It connected an endless myriad of doomed worlds together like patchwork," He gestured between us. "Thus, I reckon you two are both telling the truth¡ªfrom your perspectives.¡±


    Nessy who was done with her food too, her ears perked up in full attention. "So... we could both be right?"


    "In my experience," Calvin said sagely, "you probably are. The System doesn''t create Linear beings from nothing¡ªit merges, steals, blends, restructures existing patterns. It connects things across space and time." He pointed at Nessy with his spoon. "In one world-line, she was just a dog who saved you from drowning. In another, she was always a dog-person, your best friend. Mayhaps... The System, in its infinite wisdom or stupidity, decided both should be true¡­ because that is what you both wished for at the same time but in different places.¡±


    ¡°So if I murder more conceptoids I can assemble a whole gang of questionable characters?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Oi, I¡¯m not questionable,¡± Nessy huffed indignantly. ¡°Take that back!¡±


    ¡°Probably not,¡± Calvin laughed. ¡°That was a random reward that might never come up again. Like pulling a lever at a casino and winning all sevens on two separate slot machines!"


    I leaned back against the wall, trying to process what Calvin was suggesting. For some reason it was easier to believe Nessy was just a System-generated construct rather than accept that multiple realities had been smashed together like some cosmic jigsaw puzzle.


    "You''re saying that somewhere out there is a world where dogs evolved alongside humans as equals?" I asked, gesturing toward Nessy with my spoon.


    "Not just dogs," Calvin replied, refilling our bowls with more beans. "If I''m sensing things right via my eyes and ears... Her world probably had all sorts of sentient animals. Cats running financial institutions. Rabbits doing interior design. Wolves in construction and security. The whole shebang. Right, lassie?"


    Nessy nodded enthusiastically. "Mmph! Yes!!! Exactly! There¡¯s all sorts of Pradavarians where I¡¯m from!¡±


    "So in your world, what did regular, non-sentient animals do? Like, were there still just... regular squirrels?" I asked.


    Nessy tilted her head, confused. "What''s a ''regular'' squirrel? You mean the ones that run the postal service or the ones that manage tree nurseries?"


    ¡°Seriously?¡± I stared at her. ¡°I thought that a human-dog world was bizarre. Now we¡¯re saying every animal where you¡¯re from is sapient?¡±


    ¡°Yep,¡± Nessy nodded.


    ¡°Did you have other¡­ animals in school? Why didn¡¯t I see any other¡­ Pradavarians in your photos?¡±


    ¡°Smol town is smol,¡± she shrugged. ¡°What are you expecting? Ferguson Valley isn¡¯t a boiling pot like New York or Seattle.¡±


    Calvin let out a hearty guffaw at my stunned expression, slapping his knee. "See? Different worlds, different evolutionary trees, different rules!"


    ¡°Different evolution?¡± Nessy mulled. ¡°Hum. So your animals aren¡¯t¡­ sapient, can¡¯t talk, don¡¯t walk on two legs?¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Calvin said.


    He flipped a book open and sketched out a dog.


    ¡°This is what our huskies look like,¡± he explained. ¡°They¡¯re pets. Obedient, adorable, helpful, sweet, fluffy¡­ dogs.¡±


    Nessy stared at the sketch with a ¡®WTF¡¯ expression.


    "That''s a dog," I said.

 4 Not you

    ¡°Come on! That¡¯s not a dog! You¡¯re pulling my leg!¡± She said with a small shudder, blue eyes flashing between me and Calvin.


    ¡°Hold on,¡± Calvin smiled and then dug into a box in the corner. He pulled out a 2025 ¡®Dogs¡¯ calendar and shoved it into Nessie¡¯s arms. She flipped through the pages, her mouth falling open, eyes wide in shock.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯ve been trying to tell you,¡± I said. ¡°See? These are our dogs. That¡¯s a husky. That¡¯s a terrier. That one is a poodle. We keep them as pets.¡±


    "So you''re saying in your world I would''ve been... what? Just your pet?!" Her voice dropped to a horrified whisper.


    "Well, technically you were my grandfather''s dog, but¡ª"


    "This is insane!" Nessy jumped up, pacing the small room. "I graduated from trade school! I fixed engines! I wrote you a song! I wasn''t just some... some glorified teddy bear!"


    "Actually," Calvin interjected, calmly spooning more beans into his mouth, "you were probably both of those things, just in different worlds. And now those worlds have collided." He clapped his hands together. "The question is... what are you going to do about it?"


    ¡°What are you suggesting we do exactly?¡± Nessy asked.


    She looked perturbed, probably how I appeared after staring at her phone gallery photos.


    ¡°You should¡­ head to a time and place that both of you care about,¡± Calvin said. ¡°A destination. A location.¡±


    ¡°What location?¡± I asked.


    ¡°A place that both of you know so well you can picture it in your mind. A location where you can make your domain and build a foundation to persist longer!¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Nessy asked.


    ¡°To safely venture out of it on fetch quests and whatnot!¡± Calvin declared.


    ¡°Fetch quests?¡± I sputtered.


    ¡°From people and other sapient entities,¡± Calvin nodded. ¡°Every adventurer needs a home base to relax between dungeon delving trips. See? Like my office. This is the best way to survive. At least that¡¯s what the eyes show me. They haven¡¯t deceived me so far.¡±


    Nessy¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Ferguson,¡± she said with determination. ¡°We¡¯re going back home. To Ferguson.¡±


    I eyed her.


    ¡°What? You¡¯d rather stay here? In¡­ uhhhh¡­ wait¡­ what¡¯s this city called again?¡± She asked.


    I opened my mouth and found nothing in my memories. Just a blank space. Emptiness. An unnatural void, like a missing tooth.


    ¡°Huh. I am not sure,¡± Calvin scratched his beard. ¡°I think that someone or something devoured its name recently since I cannot recall it either. That might be a big quest for me, come ¡®morrow! Find the city¡¯s name!¡±


    He snapped his fingers.


    ¡°Here we go,¡± he said. ¡°Got it. Excellent.¡±


    I blinked at him.


    ¡°Just gave myself a Quest,¡± he explained. ¡°Going to get a big reward from the System if I accomplish it. Maybe a sword that can cut through anything. Maybe a gun that can kill concepts. Something swank, I hope!¡±


    I turned my attention back from the potentially insane tinfoil hat man to the dog-person.


    ¡°Can you even find the way back to Ferguson?¡± I asked.


    ¡°If I can get more¡­ Scrutiosmia points¡­ I¡¯m pretty sure that I can,¡± she said.


    ¡°My Ferguson or yours?¡±


    ¡°Probably mine,¡± she said. ¡°You don¡¯t want to go to yours, right?¡±


    ¡°Not really,¡± I said. ¡°There¡¯s nobody there for me¡­ if they¡¯re even alive.¡±


    ¡°Then we¡¯re going to the Ferguson I remember,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m bringing you back home! Yay!¡±


    ¡°Yay? And if there¡¯s another Alec there?¡± I asked. ¡°What then? Gonna throw me to the sapient wolves?¡±


    She made a ¡®what the hell is wrong with you¡¯ face at me.


    The last rays of sun flashed through the office window and the room began to grow dark.


    Calvin clapped his hands together. "Well! Sounds like you two have some things to work through. Fortunately, you have time. The mini-mart is safe¡ªmy domain, as I mentioned. Protected by my artifacts. You''re welcome to stay the night or two if you wish."


    Nessy''s ears perked up. "Really? That''s incredibly kind of you."


    "A bit selfish," Calvin admitted with a wink. "It''s quite nice to meet other Linear beings and to hear their curious tales to understand more of Systemfall. Most of what wanders by these days is... less coherent and needs to be put down." He stood up, gathering our empty bowls. "Got a storage room next door with an air mattress. Not the Ritz, but hey, it¡¯s better than sleeping in the rubble."


    ¡°Other than a destination¡­ what else would you suggest that would help us survive out there?¡± Nessy asked.


    ¡°Ah. Right. Those Core stats of yours you mentioned," he said. "Reconstitution at zero¡ªthat''s a problem. And your Scrutiosmia is going to run out soon, dog-pal. You''ll need to figure out how to refuel those if you want to survive. This is very essential stuff.¡±


    "How do we do that?" I asked.


    "That¡¯s different for everyone," Calvin explained. "Core Affinities are tied to your essence¡ªyour fundamental nature. Your mojo. For some, they recharge naturally over time. Others need specific actions or substances." He tapped his tinfoil hat. "My Foresight, for instance, refuels when I meditate under moonlight while peering at reflective things."


    "Reflective things?" Nessy tilted her head. "Like... mirrors?"


    "Sometimes," Calvin nodded. "But also shiny metal, reflective tape, even water from certain puddles that reflect the sky particularly well. It has to be a new surface each time. The System has a poetic logic to it."


    I frowned. "So what would fuel Reconstitution?"


    "Maybe¡­ something symbolic of rebirth," Calvin mused. "Death and renewal. Phoenixes, compost, seeds sprouting¡ªthat sort of thing. Or perhaps more literally, biological material you can incorporate?" He grimaced. "Though I wouldn''t recommend cannibalizing others unless absolutely necessary."


    "And my Scrutiosmia?" Nessy asked, her tail swishing with interest.


    ¡°Don¡¯t know. You''ll have to experiment." He tapped the side of his nose thoughtfully. "Oh! I know! You should construct an artifact to help you find your ¡®fuel¡¯. Or an artifact that will amplify your sniffing power in a particular direction. That¡¯ll help you find your special magic juice for sure.¡±


    "Like a dream catcher but for smells?" I asked.


    Nessy''s ears perked up.


    "Exactly!" Calvin beamed. "See? Now you''re getting it!"


    He stood up suddenly, stretching with a series of alarming pops from his spine. "Come on, let me show you where you''ll sleep tonight."


    We followed him out of the office and across the mini-mart to a door marked "STORAGE." Unlike the rest of his domain, this door lacked the sensory organ drawings, save for a single ear sketched in the corner.


    "It listens for trouble," Calvin explained, catching my questioning glance.


    The storage room was a cramped space filled with shelves of cleaning supplies, piles of boxes, broken electronics, and miscellaneous junk. In the center of the floor sat a surprisingly clean air mattress, already inflated, with two mismatched blankets folded at its foot.


    "It''s not much," Calvin said, "but it''s safe. The whole mini-mart is warded¡ªnothing gets in without me knowing." He pointed to various objects around the room. "Feel free to use anything you find useful. Got hand sanitizer, some old clothes in that box, tools over there. Bathroom¡¯s right outside. No shower though. There¡¯s sponges and a bucket if you want to wash that blood off ya."


    Nessy was already nosing through a stack of magazines in the corner, her tail wagging with curiosity.


    "One more thing," Calvin added, his voice dropping lower. "Dreams are different now. More... tangible. If you find yourselves sharing one, stay together. The dream-spaces often connect to... elsewhere." He tapped his tinfoil hat meaningfully. ¡°Get lost in a dream and you will never wake up. I reckon that you two are bound together for a reason. Rely on this connection, learn to wield it.¡±


    "Right," I said, not entirely sure what to make of that dire warning.


    "Well!" Calvin clapped his hands. "I''ll leave you to get settled. There¡¯s more pillows in that box. Drawing supplies are in that there box. This here box has sticky notes and sketchbooks if you wish to spend the evening experimenting with Artificery and Depictomancy.¡±


    ¡°Thanks!¡± Nessy bobbed.


    ¡°May your dreams be hearty and your slumber undisturbed by the infinite abyss!" With that peculiar blessing, he backed out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.


    I looked at Nessy, who had already claimed the left side of the air mattress and was arranging the blankets into what looked suspiciously like a nest.


    "So," I said, "that happened. We¡­ found a tinfoil hat guru.¡±


    "What? I think he''s kind of nice. Smells honest too," Nessy replied, continuing to arrange her blanket nest with methodical precision. "And he gave us food. And shelter. And wisdom! Did you hear all that neat stuff about artifacts and domains?"


    "I''m still digesting the part where he confirmed you''re from an alternate reality where animals run society and work salaried jobs," I muttered, lowering myself to sit at the edge of the air mattress.


    As Nessie procured more pillows. I pulled out the small notebook and a pencil.


    The bearded man had insisted I try my hand at "Depictomancy" as he called it. Something about visualizing concepts to better understand the System''s rules.


    The pencil felt comfortable in my hand¡ªdrawing had always been a minor skill of mine, though I''d never pursued it seriously. I began with a basic eye, trying to mimic the style of Calvin''s sticky note drawings. My first attempt was too detailed¡ªa realistic human eye with shading and an iris.


    "Too much¡­ maybe," I muttered to myself, flipping to a fresh page.


    I tried again, this time making a simpler symbol¡ªjust an oval with a circle inside it. I stared at it, waiting for... something. A flicker of power. A connection to the System. Seeing stuff through the drawing?


    Anything.


    Nothing happened.


    I tried an ear next¡ªa curved shape with inner details. Then a nose. A mouth. Each drawing was neat, precise, and also¡­ completely lifeless. Just graphite on paper, no matter how long I stared at them.


    "Wat''cha doing?" Nessy asked, abandoning her pillow-fort nest-building to crowd against my shoulder, her nose twitching rapidly as she leaned in to inspect the notebook.


    "Trying to understand how this artifact thing works," I replied, flipping to a new page with a sigh. "Calvin said visualization helps, but so far I''m getting nowhere. None of these feel... alive."


    I gestured to my earlier failed attempts at sensing organs before starting a new sketch, trying to visualize what Reconstitution might look like¡ªsomething between roots, veins, and lightning.


    Nessy''s nose dipped closer to the page, inhaling deeply as if she could somehow smell the meaning of my drawings. She shifted constantly, unable to stay still, her shoulder pressing into mine as she angled for a better position. Without warning, she circled behind me, chin coming to rest on top of my head as her paws found my shoulders, kneading unconsciously against my muscles.


    "You''re pretty good at drawing," she commented, her breath warm against my scalp, nostrils flaring with each inhale. She leaned even closer, practically draping herself over my back now, a low, contented rumble vibrating from her chest. ¡°Maybe they need to be more¡­ personal or something?¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I sighed but didn''t push her away. The weight of her against my back was strangely comforting despite the invasion of space. When I paused drawing to erase a line, her head tilted sharply, one ear brushing my cheek as she tracked the movement of my hands with intense focus.


    "Could you maybe back up a little?" I asked, continuing to sketch. "It''s hard to draw with you breathing down my neck. Literally."


    "Oh. Sorry." She perked up, momentarily alert, then circled around to settle beside me.


    This lasted approximately two seconds before she began to fidget, her hip nudging mine repeatedly as she tried to get comfortable. Her nose darted forward to sniff at my hand, then the pencil, then the edge of the paper, as if cataloging each object''s scent. Her tail thumped rhythmically against the mattress, creating vibrations that made my lines wobble. One paw absently batted at the corner of the notebook, seemingly fascinated by the slight movement.


    "Is this better?" she asked, stretching her neck to hover her nose directly above the drawing.


    It wasn''t, but I decided to ignore it, focusing instead on my drawing.


    I''d moved on to sketching out letters, words and random symbols that I thought would have some meaning or power.


    "So," Nessy began, watching my pencil move across the paper, "when you made your companion wish, what exactly were you hoping for? I mean, before you got stuck with me instead of one of your weird four-legged doggos."


    ¡°I told you already. I just asked for¡­¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she shook her head. ¡°I want to know your thoughts. Not just whatever you said, but what you were thinking about.¡±


    "I wanted something familiar," I answered honestly, not looking up from my sketch. "Someone I could really trust."


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "A pet," she translated, her voice carefully neutral.


    I paused my drawing, considering her words. "Not just a pet. A friend. Nessy¡ªmy grandfather''s husky¡ªsaved my life. She was... uncomplicated. Loyal. Safe."


    "Unlike humans," Nessy observed softly.


    "Unlike humans," I agreed. ¡°Humans have agendas and selfish needs.¡±


    ¡°Look at you insulting humans, Mister human,¡± she teased.


    ¡°I''m allowed to insult my own species,¡± I fired back. ¡°¡®Sides I''m just as selfish and miserable as the rest of ''em.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh, sure,¡± she said.


    ¡°Hey, if your world doesn¡¯t have animals as pets, then what are you imagining when I say a ¡®pet¡¯?¡± I wondered.


    ¡°Insects... like spiders. Fish. Anything moist and aquatic really,¡± she said. ¡°Pradavarians all evolved from land mammals and dinos. Intelligence and walking upright sorta stalled in the sea.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I dunno,¡± she shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not a marine or evolution scientist. I¡¯d google it, but my phone''s got no network, so that¡¯s that.¡±


    She fell silent for a moment, watching as I sketched a rough approximation of my stats window, trying to visualize how Reconstitution might recharge.


    It didn¡¯t seem to do anything. Maybe sketching magic shit wasn¡¯t something that I could do like Calvin due to lack of Foresight or whatever.


    "What about you?" I asked, glancing sideways at her. "You said you made a wish too, right? To find¡­ your friend?"


    Nessy''s ears twitched, and she shifted her weight, momentarily giving me some breathing room before unconsciously pressing against my side again.


    "I wished to find you," she said simply. "My best friend."


    Something in her tone made me set down my pencil and turn to face her fully. Her blue eyes held a depth of emotion that made me uncomfortable¡ªnot because it was unwelcome, but because it was directed at someone who wasn''t me. Not really.


    I didn¡¯t say anything and simply stared at her. She inhaled deep and shuddered, blinking rapidly, eyes wet.


    ¡°I¡­ I get it¡­¡± she sniffed. "I''m not stupid. I saw the ¡®dog¡¯ calendar... I know you''re not the boy I lost," she said, her voice growing stronger. "I know we don''t share childhood memories, those promises he¡­ made." She let out with a whine. "But my nose found you, across roads that don''t go anywhere, through the wreckage of reality itself. It found you¡­ not him.¡±


    I sighed.


    ¡°I¡­¡± She seemed to teeter on the precipice of a breakdown. ¡°If I found you and not him it must mean¡­ something. I don¡¯t know what exactly, but¡­ you smell exactly like him and you act like him so there¡¯s that. You¡¯re the Alec I remember from Ferguson and it¡¯s driving me nuts¡­ I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m really struggling to deal with the dissonance between what you¡¯re saying about not knowing me and what you smell like.¡±


    "Tell me about him," I said. "Your¡­ Alec."


    Nessy''s tail, which had been wagging slightly, went completely rigid. She looked down at her paw-hands, flexing her claws thoughtfully.


    "He was... everything," she began, her voice soft with memory. "My anchor. We grew up together in Ferguson. Neighbors. Knew each other since I could talk. His grandfather and my parents were friends. I hung out at his grandfather''s RV all the time. We went to the same schools, had the same friends. He was terrible at sports, home ec and literature¡­ but amazing at mathematics and drawing¡ªjust like you."


    She smiled faintly at the notebook in my hands.


    "He taught me how to swim at Ferguson Quarry when we were just kids. I taught him how to track animals through Blackbirch Forest. We had this spot on Clashridge Peak where we''d go to watch meteor showers." Her voice caught slightly.


    She laughed, but the sound held more pain than humor.


    I returned to my sketching, giving her the space to continue without the intensity of eye contact. My pencil traced the outline of what might be a compass, similar to Calvin''s Identifier device.


    "After graduation, he went away to university," she continued, watching my hands work. "I stayed in Ferguson, went to trade school. We promised we''d text every day, call every week, chat on the net, play online games n'' stuff. And at first, we did."


    She shifted, drawing her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them in a distinctly human gesture of self-comfort.


    "Then the texts and discord messages got shorter. The calls became less frequent. I told myself he was just busy. College is demanding, right? New friends, new experiences..." She trailed off, her gaze distant. "But deep down, I knew. He was pulling away. And¡­ and I couldn¡¯t handle it. Tried to push harder¡­ tried to demand time for our friendship... but that just made things worse. So much worse."


    I kept drawing, now sketching a basic, crude map, trying to visualize how one possibly might navigate between realities.


    "The last text I got from him was months ago. Just ''Sorry, can''t talk now. Later?'' That''s it. No later ever came."


    She unfolded herself suddenly, leaning over to look at my drawing. Her fur brushed against my arm, warm and soft, but I noticed she was trembling slightly.


    "I should have known then," she whispered. "Should have accepted it was all over. Whatever we had¡ªfriendship, maybe something more¡ªit was finished. Done. He''d moved on¡­ found someone else, cut me off¡­ but I refused to believe that, because I¡¯m a big, determined idiot¡­"


    I added detail to my map, sketching little landmarks¡ªFerguson Quarry, Clashridge Peak, places she''d mentioned that existed in my world too, though in my memories, they were places I''d mostly been alone.


    "But then," she continued, her voice steadying, "the System came. The world started... changing. Breaking. Reshaping. Getting all weird and wrong. So, so wrong. And all I could think was¡ªI have to find him. I have to know he''s safe. Maybe if I find him¡­ then I can rescue him, help him, be his best friend again, win him back by¡­ by being a good, useful, helpful dog. Stupid, right?¡±


    She moved again. I glanced at her. Her eyes captured mine, intense and vulnerable all at once like a magnet pulling me in.


    "I couldn¡¯t take it anymore. I gave up working on one of the cars at the shop, jumped into my truck and drove¡­ roads got weird. Really weird. Like un-drivably, loopy, endless... weird. So, I got out of the car and ran¡­ Just ran. On and on and on. God knows for how long. The clock on my phone and satnav map got really ''effed at times. I ran through landscapes that shouldn''t exist. Past and away from things that wanted to consume me. I barely slept. Barely ate. Just followed your scent¡ªa scent I would know anywhere. The scent of my best friend."


    Her paw reached out, hovering just above my hand but not quite touching, as if suddenly aware of boundaries she''d been ignoring all night.


    "And I found you. Finally found you!"


    I set the notebook aside, giving her my full attention now. The intensity in her gaze was almost uncomfortable, but I didn''t look away.


    "But I''m not him," I said gently.


    "You are!¡± she let out. ¡°You¡­ you have to be!!!¡±


    The silence between us stretched, heavy with unspoken emotions. A tear welled in the corner of her eye, catching the light before trailing down through her fur. She didn''t wipe it away.


    ¡°I am not,¡± I shook my head.


    Another tear followed the first, and then another. Still, she maintained her composure, her voice steady even as her eyes betrayed her.


    "S-shut up! And I''ve been running so hard, for so long, holding onto this... this hope that when I found you, everything would make sense again. That I''d have an anchor, my best friend back.¡±


    She finally reached out, her paw-hand closing over mine with surprising gentleness. Her pads were soft against my skin, her claws carefully held away from me.


    I wanted to offer comfort, to say something that would ease her pain, but platitudes felt wrong in the face of her tears.


    "I understand," I said finally. "What it''s like to hold onto someone who''s already let go. My brother... abandoned me to the cartel, screwed me over."


    I shook my head, pushing away memories of him constantly asking for favours or money, broken promises, the slow realization that brotherly love wasn''t enough to overcome the disparities our parents had created between us by constantly putting him on a pedestal far above me.


    "I understand," I repeated. ¡°I get it.¡±


    Nessy nodded, something in her posture easing at my words. She took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to compose herself.


    ¡°Could you just maybe... pretend?¡± She asked. ¡°Humor me? Please¡­¡±


    ¡°I really don¡¯t like pretending to be someone I¡¯m not,¡± I said.


    "And¡­ I don''t know if I can start over," she admitted, dark nostrils flaring as she took a shaky breath. "I don''t know if I can let go of what I thought I was running toward. But I know I can''t do this alone. Can¡¯t go on alone. I¡¯m so effin¡¯ tired, so wrecked."


    Her voice broke on the last word, the last remnants of composure she''d been maintaining finally cracking. A high-pitched whine escaped her throat. She ducked her head, ears flattening completely against her skull as her shoulders hunched forward.


    "You couldn''t find your Nessy either, could you?" she whispered, her voice quivering. "Because she''s gone. Dead. Just like my Alec is gone... maybe dead, maybe changed over time. Gone forever from my life. Unable to be my pack... companion anymore."


    She drew her knees up, making herself smaller. Her tail, usually so expressive, lay completely still beside her.


    "I''m not like your un-talking dog from that damned calendar," she continued, her words muffled as she pressed her face into her knees. "I''m a girl. A person. I had dreams. Plans. A future I thought included him. And I¡­ I can¡¯t let any of it go. I just can¡¯t. It¡¯s stupid. I¡¯m so stupid."


    A visible tremor ran through her body, her claws unconsciously extending and retracting against the fabric of her overalls, leaving tiny pulls in the material.


    "I''m so tired, Alec," she exhaled, her voice raw with emotion. "I''ve been strong for so long. Running for so long. Pushing down this fear that maybe... maybe there was a reason he stopped answering. That I wasn''t enough. That I was just... just a convenient childhood friend he settled with until someone better came up.¡±


    Without thinking, I reached out, placing my free hand on her shoulder. Her fur was warm beneath my palm, slightly damp with nervous sweat.


    "You don''t have to run anymore," I said softly. "And you''re not alone."


    Something snapped in her expression then¡ªa dam giving way to relief so profound it transformed her entire face. A sob escaped her, then another. She lurched forward suddenly, pressing her face into the crook of my neck, her cold nose seeking the pulse point beneath my jaw. Her breath came in ragged gasps against my skin, each exhale punctuated by a loud whine.


    Her arms wrapped around me, clinging with desperate strength, as if afraid I might disappear if she let go. I felt her fuzzy fingers curl into the fabric of my coveralls, bunching the material as she pressed closer, seeking comfort through contact.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ I¡¯m so sorry¡­¡± She whined between tears.


    I stiffened momentarily at the invasion of space, then slowly relaxed, awkwardly patting her back as she cried. This wasn''t the casual, oblivious boundary-crossing from before¡ªthis was raw need, the culmination of so much fear and exhaustion and hope deferred.


    ¡°D-d-dont leave me again, please. Don''t. I can''t¡­ I won''t be able to handle it¡­ please¡­¡± her words broke into incoherent weeping.


    "I am not the friend you lost," I insistently murmured into her ear as she trembled against me.


    She nodded against my shoulder, still not lifting her head.


    "But I can be your new friend," I continued. "The real me. And maybe... maybe that''s enough. Also, I¡¯m not going anywhere. Unless¡­ I get eaten by something when we go outside next time. Seriously, I have no reason to abandon you. None. Nada. You¡¯re a cool doggo, if a bit invasive.¡±


    ¡°Feh! I¡¯m an invasive species,¡± She let out as she pulled back finally, swiping at her eyes with the back of her paw. Her fur was matted with tears, her nose extra wet, but something in her expression had lightened, as if putting her grief into words had relieved some of its weight.


    "I¡­ just want someone in my life¡­ I can trust," she said, her voice hoarse. "I think... I think I need to let him go... The Alec who stopped answering. Who didn''t want me in his life anymore. It¡¯s just so ¡®effing hard, you know¡­ especially when you¡¯re him, errr¡­ just like him except for¡­ minor past inconsistencies?"


    I nodded.


    She managed a watery smile, her tail giving a tentative wag. "You''re just so similar... Bad at sports too, I bet."


    "Uh-huh. Definitely terrible at rugby," I confirmed, returning her smile with a small one of my own. "Almost broke my arm. But great at drowning in bathtubs, apparently."


    Her startled laugh¡ªa weird hybrid of human chuckle and canine yip¡ªbroke the tension. She swiped at her eyes one more time, then glanced down at my abandoned notebook.


    "Your drawings are tight, but def'' not alive," she commented, composure returning bit by bit. "Maybe we can make an artifact to help your Reconstitution recharge. Something like Calvin''s silly hat, but less... tinfoil-y."


    "Maybe," I agreed, picking up the notebook again. "Any suggestions for what else to draw?"


    She leaned in close once more, her muzzle right next to my face, personal space once again a foreign concept to her.


    "How about a phoenix?" she suggested, pointing to the paper. "They''re all about rebirth, right? Or maybe a tree¡ªroots and branches, life from decay?"


    I began sketching, our earlier emotional intensity settling into something calmer, more comfortable. Nessy remained pressed against my side, occasionally offering suggestions, her tail thumping steadily against the mattress.


    We continued working on artifact designs, Nessy offering suggestions while I sketched. Drawing a phoenix wasn¡¯t doing shit. The tree art didn''t feel magical.


    I was getting tired and yawned.


    My attempts at more sensory organs yielded nothing¡ªno matter how I drew them, they remained lifeless marks on paper. I tried eyes with different expressions, ears from different angles, even abstract representations that Calvin might have appreciated.


    "Maybe you''re thinking too hard," Nessy suggested, scratching behind her ear. "Calvin said intent matters more than technique. Right?"


    "My intent is to make these work," I grumbled.


    Nessy shifted, stretching her legs before settling again, this time with her head resting against my knee. "Maybe draw something you care about?¡±


    ¡°I tried drawing stuff from Ferguson,¡± I said.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t sound like you care that much about Ferguson,¡± she said.


    I was about to argue when my pencil began moving almost of its own accord, no longer focused on System mechanics but simply drawing what was before me. With quick, confident strokes, I sketched Nessy''s head from memory, also glancing at her as she rested against my leg¡ªher pointed ears, the distinctive angel wing markings on her face, those expressive blue eyes half-closed in contentment.


    It wasn''t meant to be an artifact. Just a drawing. A capture of a cute moment.


    As I added the final touches to her fur texture, I noticed something strange¡ªthe lines seemed to shimmer slightly, a barely perceptible silver gleam catching the dim light. The drawing felt... warm somehow. Alive.


    "What is it?" Nessy asked, noticing my sudden stillness.


    "Hum... I think it worked," I said, surprised. "Not the eyes or ears or any of the technical stuff, but... this." I turned the notebook to show her the sketch I''d made.


    She sat up, ears perking forward as she studied it. "Hey! It''s me!"


    "It''s more than that," I said, running my finger along the edge of the drawing. "It feels different from the others."


    As if in response, the sketch seemed to deepen, the lines becoming more vibrant. And with it came a strange awareness¡ªa subtle but distinct sense of Nessy''s presence, as if the drawing had created a link between us.


    "I can feel you," she said suddenly, her nose twitching rapidly. "Through the drawing. It''s like... it''s extending my senses somehow." She closed her eyes, concentrating. "Just the tiniest, smallest bit. Like there¡¯s a spot there. A spot of me-ness?¡±


    I nodded and stared at the drawing in wonder.


    Not a technical diagram of System mechanics, not a carefully crafted sensory organ, but a simple sketch of Nessie had created my first functioning artifact.


    Was this an artifact? What was I even supposed to do with this? How would it help?


    I had no idea.


    Nessy yawned, her mouth opening wide to reveal an impressive set of canines before snapping shut with an audible click. "We should sleep," she suggested, stretching her arms overhead. "Tomorrow we can figure out¡­ more shtuff.¡±


    I nodded, suddenly aware of how exhausted I was. My new body might have healed from the conceptoid''s attack, but the mental fatigue of everything¡ªdying, being reconstituted, fighting and running, meeting Nessy, and trying to understand this new System-ruled world¡ªall of it had taken its toll.


    "Yeah, sleep sounds good," I agreed, setting the notebook on a nearby shelf and stretching out on my side of the air mattress.


    Nessy immediately began rearranging the blankets and pillows once again, circling and patting them down in a distinctly canine manner before finally settling with a contented sigh. Just when I thought she was done, she would abruptly rise and repeat the entire process, turning three more times before finally collapsing with dramatic finality.


    "Comfy yet?" I asked dryly.


    "Almost," she replied, completely missing my sarcasm as she made one final adjustment to her blanket nest. She wiggled with a satisfied grunt, curling into a surprisingly tight ball at the foot of the mattress.


    I reached over and turned off the small, battery-operated lava lamp from one of Calvin''s boxes of random things, plunging the storage room into darkness broken only by thin slivers of moonlight filtering through a high, narrow window.


    The silence stretched between us, not uncomfortable but weighty with all that had been said and all that remained unspoken. I could hear Nessy''s breathing, steady but not yet slowed with sleep. Occasionally, her tail would thump against the mattress, creating tiny vibrations I could feel against my feet.


    "Alec?" Her voice came softly through the darkness.


    "Yeah?"


    "I''m really glad I found you. Even if you''re not... exactly my Alec, you¡¯re the Alec I need right now. Heh. This is some Batman shit. I mean it tho..."


    She yawned.


    "Right. I''m... glad I''m not alone," I finally replied. It probably wasn''t exactly what she wanted to hear, but it was honest.


    She seemed to accept this, falling silent again. Minutes passed, and I began to drift toward sleep, my consciousness growing fuzzy around the edges. I was nearly there when I felt the mattress shift and a warm weight wobble under the blanket to press against my side.


    Nessy had moved, abandoning her carefully constructed nest to curl up next to me, her chest pressed against my back. Her fur tickled my neck.


    "Why are you so close?" I mumbled, too tired to move.


    "Cold," she replied simply, sounding half-asleep.


    I should have protested, should have maintained the personal boundaries I''d been sort of trying to establish all day. Instead, I found myself adjusting slightly to accommodate her presence, my body responding to her warmth in the chilly storage room. It was then that I noticed her scent¡ªpine cones and engine oil and something uniquely hers.


    "Fine. Just this once, you dastardly floofy space invader," I murmured.


    "Mm-hmm," she agreed, her tail giving one final wag before going still and wrapping herself even harder around me.


    Within minutes, her breathing deepened, punctuated by occasional little snuffling sounds. One of her ears twitched against my head, responding to dreams or distant sounds I couldn''t perceive.


    Despite my exhaustion, sleep eluded me for a while longer. I lay there, acutely aware of Nessy''s warm presence, the gentle rise and fall of her ribcage against me, the occasional twitch of her paws as she chased something in her dreams.


    It was strange how quickly she had become real to me¡ªnot just a System-generated construct or an alternate reality anomaly, but a person with her own fears, hopes, and heartbreaks. A person who, against all logic, had chosen to trust me.


    As sleep finally claimed me, my last conscious thought was a hope that I wouldn''t fail her¡ªthis strange, loyal creature who had crossed worlds to find someone she''d lost, only to end up with me instead.

 5 Daliesque

    Sunlight slanted through the narrow window of the storage room, cutting a bright golden pathway across the air and catching dust motes.


    I opened my eyes slowly, consciousness returning in gradual waves as I registered the warmth that had been against my back was now gone.


    Warmth. Hrmmm. Huskies had lush coats. Was she actually cold last night or did she just¡­


    Rubbing sleep from my eyes, I pushed myself up on one elbow.


    The beam of light struck the wall sideways and illuminated a black and white figure in the corner of the room against gray pockmarked concrete¡ªNessy, perched carefully on an overturned orange bucket, which itself stood inside what appeared to be a plastic blue kiddie pool. She was humming softly to herself, a tune I didn''t recognize, as she methodically ran a soapy sponge over her fur-covered arms. Water dripped from her, catching the sunlight in tiny prisms before splashing into the shallow pool.


    I listened in, catching onto the words of the song.


    "...Another thousand miles</a>


    Above periphery of earth, in stars confined


    You I have sought to find,


    Through satellites, and calls.


    Yet all I got was ''no response''.


    Four months are left, together intertwined.


    It will get better, it will get worse.


    Because, because, because, because..."


    Her blue mechanic''s coveralls hung on a nearby shelf, dripping wet, clearly having been washed already. She sat with her back partially toward me, unaware that I was now awake, wet tail flitting.


    I froze as my mind attempted to process the view.


    The morning light traced the curves of her back, highlighting the transition where black fur gave way to white along her shoulders and down her arms.


    "Two hundred thousand miles,


    Above the somber ashen cloudscape,


    You I have sought to find,


    Through radio-waves and calls,


    Yet all I got was your ferocity combined,


    With animosity, and no response.


    Will it get better? Will it get worse?


    I¡¯ve got my gun out, just because."


    Unlike a human, her body was fully furred, but the shape beneath was distinctly feminine¡ªcurves where a woman would have curves, though some of her proportions were off. She was too curvy, limbs and legs a bit too long, fingers a bit too lanky. She was also tall¡­ taller than me when she straightened her legs all the way, I had to admit.


    She continued her ablutions, clearly believing me still asleep as she hummed that unfamiliar melody, occasionally punctuating it with feet claw taps that somehow stayed in tune.


    I should have closed my eyes, given her privacy, but I remained transfixed¡ªnot by any cheap voyeuristic thrill, but by the sheer unreality of the moment. A humanoid Siberian Husky was bathing in the corner of a storage room in an abandoned mini-mart after the apocalypse.


    When did my life become a surrealist painting?


    "Three hundred thousand miles,


    Beneath the earth¡¯s magnetic poles


    Beneath the ocean, beneath the isles,


    Beneath the continental pores


    You I have sought to find,


    Through electronic calls.


    Beep-beep-beep-beep¡­ and I hung up.


    I did not wait for a response."


    "Oowoo-woo-ooo," Nessy let out a soft, sad howl and rotated slightly on her bucket, seemingly sensing my gaze. Her ears wiggle slightly, pivoting my way, but rather than scrambling for cover as any normal person, she merely tilted her head at my expression.


    "Morning, sunshine!" she said cheerfully, instantly switching from sad to happy, seeming utterly unconcerned by her appearance. "Sleep well?"


    "I, uh¡ª" I stuttered, finally finding the presence of mind to avert my eyes. "Sorry, I didn''t mean to¡ª"


    "To what?" she asked.


    "Erm..." I gestured vaguely in her direction, still looking away. "You''re not wearing anything."


    A very blunt statement. Yeah, that''ll show her.


    "Yep," she replied matter-of-factly. "My coveralls were pretty filthy. Motor oil, blood, sweat, questionable dirt from God knows where, conceptoid bits¡ªnot a great combo. The smell was hella bothering me, but I was too damn exhausted to do anything about it yesterday. I found this pool in a box and figured I''d get cleaned up." She wrung out the sponge, water splattering. "Calvin left us soap and everything."


    "Don''t you want some... privacy?" I asked determinedly staring at a fascinating spot on the wall.


    "Privacy?" She sounded genuinely confused, then laughed. "Alec, it''s the end of the world. Giant playground insects are eating people, inanimate objects are growing limbs, and you''re worried about seeing a girl take a sponge bath?"


    "Yes," I said, my voice coming out more defensive than I intended. Conversations with Nessy were generally bordering on a high degree of weirdness, but the current situation cranked up the dial all the way to 200.


    "Eh, personal space is overrated," she said cheerfully, splashing more water over her fur. "Especially now when there''s hardly any persons left to have space between."


    I tried to issue a rebuttal, but my brain wasn¡¯t working courtesy of the situation and it being far too damn early in the morning.


    Nessy snorted, the sound distinctly canine despite coming from her humanoid throat. "Ah, I get it! You''re being human-gentlemanly." She infused the word with such exaggerated formality that I couldn''t help glancing back at her.


    She resumed her washing and humming, repeating the last stanza of her song softly, seemingly amused by my discomfort rather than sharing it. There was something both innocent and knowing in her expression¡ªa peculiar combination that reminded me that while she might look partly human, her perspective wasn''t necessarily human at all.


    In fact I wasn¡¯t exactly sure what her perspective was. I let Nessy into my life without much of a fight and trusted her nose to guide me to this place.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°Is this really the best place for a bath?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yep.¡± She nodded. ¡°Calvin¡¯s office is closed, since he¡¯s out doing ¡®City-name Questing¡¯. The bathroom is tiny and barely fits the toilet and the shop area is way too open and the sticky-note eyes are creeping me out. Feels like they''re unnervingly staring at me from every direction.¡±


    ¡°Fine. You win this round, doggo,¡± I huffed.


    ¡°I win every round,¡± she fired back. ¡°Because I am the best doggo.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d think that a dog would be more humble,¡± I commented.


    ¡°The behavior of a dog is reflective of its pack leader. You used to think of me as the best, therefore that''s how I mostly feel. A dog takes on the energy of their significant other as they bloom into adulthood,¡± she said with a philosophical look.


    I considered her words.


    ¡°Also, I was quite humble when I was a pup, and eventually learned that¡¯s just how you get rolled over by wolves n¡¯ other rude-ass prads¡¯,¡± she huffed. ¡°Hrm. You don''t look convinced. Perhaps you require some visual evidence? Just look at these leggos!¡± She raised a digitrade foot and wiggled her pink pad toes at me. ¡°Behold! See these gluteal muscles? They help me run way faster than a human.¡±


    ¡°Uhhh,¡± I stared at the wiggling toes glancing at the muscles she was pointing at. ¡°Are you trying to make me feel bad about my human-ness or something?¡±


    ¡°No, you dummy. This is the part where you complement me!¡± she said with a grin of sharp canines.


    "Your modesty is truly inspiring," I deadpanned, which only made her grin wider.


    The sunbeam caught the droplets of water still clinging to her fur, making them sparkle like tiny diamonds.


    "So¡­ How long have you been up?" I asked, trying to normalize the situation with a mundane conversation topic not involving soapy legs.


    "About an hour," she replied. "I''m an early riser. Don¡¯t need coffee like you to pry my eyes open. You know, I thought this would be a bit depressing, but this is really fun.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s fun?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Teaching my bestie everything about dogs all over again!¡± She declared. ¡°See, I¡¯m superior in terms of sleep too. Dogs are flexible sleepers and can spring into action very quickly!¡±


    ¡°Is this going to be dog facts 101 or something?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Right! I prepped a thing for you,¡± she ignored my jibe and stepped out of the tub to grab a small plastic bottle from a shelf. She then threw it at my head.


    I fumbled the bottle trying to catch it. Eventually, I managed to retrieve it from behind the mattress. It was coffee pills.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I said, swallowing one and then chugging a bottle of plastic water from Nessy¡¯s bag next to the air mattress.


    I finally got off the mattress, circled around the pool and went to the bathroom.


    When I returned, Nessy was still in the improvised tub, now focusing on her feet with methodical attention. I tried not to look, but there was something hypnotic about watching her groom herself¡ªthe careful way she manipulated the sponge between her clawed fingers, the little expressions of concentration that crossed her canine-humanoid features.


    ¡°Ah! You¡¯re back! Yay!¡± she declared, stepped towards me and pulled me into the kiddie pool.


    ¡°What is happening?¡± I asked, unsure of her intentions.


    ¡°You¡¯re getting washed, is what,¡± she declared.


    My mind drifted to the concept of personal space, or rather, Nessy''s complete lack of understanding of it. Yesterday, she''d been constantly in my bubble¡ªleaning against me, sniffing me, practically draping herself over me while I drew. And now this casual nudity, as if we were roommates of the same gender or...


    No, don''t go there, I warned myself. Whatever Nessy was to me¡ªcompanion, guide, friend-in-progress¡ªI needed to remember that we came from fundamentally different worlds. Different cultural norms. Different expectations.


    While I contemplated expectations, I found my blood-stained orange coveralls being unzipped and pulled off me.


    "What are you¡ª" I spluttered.


    "Helping!" she announced cheerfully. "You stink something awful, and it''s bothering my sensitive nose. Since you''re being so slow, I''m taking matters into my own paws."


    "Nessy, stop it!" I protested. "I can wash myself!"


    "When? Next week? Basic hygiene waits for no one!¡± Before I could formulate a response to this bizarre logic, she pulled the orange coveralls fully off me.


    "Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey!" I yelped, covering myself frantically. "Personal space! Boundaries!


    She rolled her eyes dramatically. "Oh please, it''s not like I haven''t seen you naked before.¡±


    ¡°That¡­¡± I growled.


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t you?¡± She finished. ¡°Eh. I choose to believe that it was. Anyways. Washing time.¡±


    She flitted around me and pushed me onto the bucket and began to vigorously lather my head and back.


    "Nessy, I swear to God¡ª"


    "What? It''s just skin. I was born with it too, you know. Under all this fur."


    "This is¡­" I complained, but my voice lacked conviction. There was something so matter-of-fact about her actions, so devoid of any ulterior motive, that it was hard to maintain genuine outrage.


    "Friends don''t let friends stink like wet garbage,¡± she interrupted my words.


    "I do not smell like wet garbage," I muttered.


    Her nose twitched dramatically. "I beg to differ and my nose agrees. Now, are you going to cooperate, or am I going to have to do this the hard way?"


    ¡°I¡¯ll cooperate,¡± I grumbled, submitting myself to the hyper-dog washing. Resistance was clearly futile, and if I was being honest with myself, the prospect of being clean was appealing.


    ¡°What are you so embarrassed about? Everyone knows humans are just less evolved versions of us."


    "Less evolved?" I sputtered, feeling slightly offended.


    "Well, yeah. You didn''t get the cool upgrades¡ªno warm fur coat, no sniffing powers, no night vision, no adorable ear swivels." She demonstrated the last feature with a smug wiggle of her pointed ears. "Clearly, you''re the beta version."


    "I''m pretty sure that''s not how evolution works," I replied dryly, wincing as she scrubbed a particularly tender spot where the conceptoid had slashed me yesterday. Despite my complaints, her hands were surprisingly gentle, careful around the healing wounds that still marked my skin.


    "Oh, what would you know?" she teased. "Your nose is basically decorative."


    I couldn''t help but laugh at that. "Decorative? It serves a purpose!"


    "Barely!" She gave my shoulder a final pat with the sponge and handed it to me. "Your turn.¡±


    ¡°My turn what?¡±


    ¡°To wash me,¡± she fluttered around me and plopped in front of me.


    "Nessy, I¡ª"


    "Just the back and head, you prude," she said, glancing over her shoulder with those impossibly blue eyes. "I already got the rest. Come on, it''s only fair. I did yours. Back first.¡± She commented, pulling her black-white hair forward.


    I hesitated, sponge dripping in my hand. This felt like crossing some undefined line¡ªthough what line, exactly, I couldn''t articulate. It wasn''t as if there was anything inherently inappropriate about helping someone wash hard-to-reach places. It was the... intimacy of it. The casual, persistent assumption of closeness.


    "I''m waiting," she sing-songed, swishing her wet tail against my leg with impatience.


    With a sigh of resignation, I dipped the sponge in the water and began to carefully wash her back. The fur there was shorter than on her head or tail, dense and sleek beneath my fingers as I worked the soap through it. I was struck by how different it felt from human hair¡ªcoarser, yet somehow silkier too.


    "You''re being too gentle," she complained. "Really get in there. I''ve been running for days and haven''t had a proper wash in forever."


    I applied more pressure, working the sponge in small circles between her shoulder blades. This close, I could detect subtle patterns in her fur coloration¡ªthe black wasn''t uniform but had variations, almost like the grain in wood.


    "That''s better," she sighed contentedly, her ears relaxing. "Now the head, please. Around the ears. That''s the worst spot since I can''t see back there."


    I moved the sponge up to her neck, then to the base of her pointed ears. As I worked, I couldn''t help but notice how the muscles in her shoulders relaxed, tension I hadn''t even realized she was carrying melting away beneath my hands.

 6 The Vice

    "So, uhm..." I began, searching for something to say to make the mutual washing process less awkward. ¡°Doesn¡¯t this mess with your¡­ hrmm,¡± I tried to recall what I knew about huskies. ¡°Hydrophobic coating?¡±


    ¡°It kind of does,¡± she shrugged. ¡°Normally, baths are unnecessary for me, unless I get engine oil all over my coat or something. The problem is¨Cdust and dirt isn¡¯t ordinary anymore. Some of this shit needs to come off asap, it¡¯s REALLY screwing with me¡­ it smells wrong, is giving me bad dreams. I think that bits of dirt on me are¡­ ehh¡­ What did Calvin call it¡­ Entropic, gradually decaying something vital from me the longer it stays in my mane. That¡¯s why I need your help to get it all out from the spots I can¡¯t see.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± I said. ¡°Well then, let me make sure it¡¯s all out.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡± She nodded.


    ¡°So¡­ is this normal for you?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s normal?¡±


    ¡°People who just met¡­ washing each other without any... I don''t know, hesitation?"


    She tilted her head, considering. "Pradavarians are definitely more communal than humans. Grooming is social for us. Builds trust." She hesitated. "It''s also me. I''ve always been... What did Mrs. Abernathy call it? Ah. ¡®Extra-oblivious to human personal boundaries!''"


    I snorted. "You don''t say."


    "Got me sent to the principal''s office in third grade," she continued, leaning into my touch as I worked the sponge around her left ear. "Kept sniffing other kids'' lunches without asking. Jacob Porter pushed me over it, and I bit him."


    The casual admission of biting someone made me pause briefly, but I resumed my task. "Did you get in trouble?"


    "Nah. Principal Hartwell¡ªhe was this old Saint Bernard¡ªunderstood it was just puppy behavior. Made me apologize though."


    I tried to imagine a world where the school principal was a Saint Bernard in a suit and tie, perhaps wearing glasses perched on his broad muzzle. The mental image was so absurd I almost laughed aloud.


    "What''s so funny?" Nessy asked, her ears swiveling back toward me though she kept her face forward.


    "Just... trying to picture your world," I admitted.


    "It was nice," she said softly. "Normal. Boring, even. I took it all for granted. Now everything is weird and terrible. Except you. You¡¯re the same. No¡­ better! ¡®Cus I can shower you with all of my best jokes and stories all over again!¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh.¡± I moved the sponge to her other ear, noting the way she leaned slightly into my touch. "I took my world for granted too," I said. "Didn''t appreciate the little things. Simple stuff like... walking down the street without worrying about being disemboweled by playground equipment."


    ¡°Yess.¡± She chuckled, the sound vibrating through her back. "The simple pleasures!"


    We fell into a comfortable silence as I finished washing her head, careful to keep soap away from her eyes. When I was done, she poured a bucket of water over both of us and shook herself vigorously, spraying water in all directions.


    "Hey!" I protested, shielding my face too late.


    "Sorry," she said, not sounding sorry at all. "Reflex." She turned to face me, her expression suddenly serious. "Thank you."


    "For what? Getting water all over myself?"


    "For helping. For not... rejecting me. For trying to understand." Her ears flattened slightly, vulnerability flashing across her features. "I know I''m a lot to deal with."


    Something in her tone made my chest tighten. Beneath her exuberant exterior, I caught a glimpse of insecurity¡ªa deep fear of abandonment that explained so much of her behavior.


    "You are a lot," I agreed, finding it impossible to lie to those big, earnest blue eyes. "But I''m slowly getting used to it¡­ I think.¡±


    ¡°Good, ¡®cus I¡¯m moving in,¡± she leaned back against me.


    "Moving in to... where?"


    "I dunno," she shrugged. "Where can I move into? What rooms do you have available and what are the rates?"


    I pretended to consider this seriously. "I might be persuaded to offer a special rate. Payment accepted in the form of not licking my face when excited."


    "No deal," she shot back immediately. "Face-licking is non-negotiable. It''s in the dog contract."


    "There''s a dog contract?"


    "Oh absolutely," she nodded solemnly. "We all stamp it with our paw at birth. Article 3, Section 2 clearly states ''All faces must be thoroughly licked upon reunion with pack members.'' It''s very official."


    "And I suppose there''s a clause about invading personal space too?" I asked, gesturing to our current situation¡ªher still leaning against me in a kiddie pool.


    "Article 5!" she confirmed cheerfully. "Personal space is a myth perpetuated by cats."


    Despite myself, I laughed heartily. There was something disarmingly genuine about her¡ªa complete lack of self-consciousness that made it hard to maintain any real annoyance.


    "See? Bonding!" Nessy declared. "This is quality pack bonding time! The stronger the bond, the stronger the pack!¡±


    ¡°A human and a dog counts as a pack?¡± I wondered.


    ¡°Always has been,¡± she said, pointing at the wall with a gun-hand gesture. "Man and dog are a particular type of a pack called ¡®Synergistic¡¯! It''s the oldest one in history."


    "Synergistic, huh?" I repeated, testing the word. "Like teamwork."


    "Exactly!" She bounced slightly with excitement, causing small waves in the kiddie pool. "A Syn-pack! Humans provide the strategy and tool-making, dogs provide the nose, strength, speed and instinct. Together we conquered the planet!" She raised her wet paw in triumph. "First the wild, then civilization, then space!"


    "Space?" I raised an eyebrow.


    Stolen story; please report.


    "Of course! The Lunar Landing Pack of 1969!" She announced, almost smacking me in the chin with an elbow as she stood up and spun around to face me. ¡°Neil Armstrong and Kira Pawstrong!¡±


    Her chest was right in front of my eyes now.


    ¡°United States Lunar Mission had a dual command structure¡ªone human, one pradavarian dog. It was symbolic, representing the ancient partnership that built civilization." She gestured animatedly as she spoke, water droplets flying from her fur. "Kira was a Border Collie, selected for her intelligence and problem-solving abilities. She trained for three years alongside her pack leader Armstrong¡­¡±


    I tried to focus on her words, I really did, but her animated gestures were causing certain¡­ round and pointy areas... to bounce distractingly close to my face. The fur covering her chest did little to diminish the effect of gravity on her very mammalian anatomy.


    ¡°...inseparable during training!¡± Nessy continued enthusiastically. ¡°The first lunar pawprint based on the famous photo is showcased in the Smithsonian along with the first bootprint!"


    ¡°Pawprint¡­ in space?¡± I repeated.


    ¡°Kira¡¯s space suit had stylized paw pads, duh,¡± Nessy clarified. ¡°Agh! Getting distracted! Gotta wash you. Wash, wash, wash.¡± She hummed, grabbing the sponge from my hand and proceeded to do exactly that.


    ¡°What¡¯s this face you¡¯re making now?¡± She wondered sniffing. ¡°Still embarrassed? Ha! You humans are so weird about bodies! See, we dogs only wear clothes for practical purposes or fashion, not this strange shame thing."


    "Great, so I''m the weird one for wanting some basic modesty," I grumbled.


    "Basically, yeah," she nodded solemnly, then ruined the effect by giggling. "You should see your face right now. So much blushing! Ha! It''s the exact same expression you had when Principal Hartwell caught us climbing on the school roof to release those paper airplanes."


    "That wasn''t¡ª"


    "Wasn''t you?" She waved dismissively. "Still funny though."


    I could almost picture my young self throwing paper airplanes with a younger, skinnier, smaller Nessy. The memory was sharp, funny. I smiled.


    Great, she was incepting memories into my head now.


    Nessy finally took pity on me and stepped out of the kiddie pool, grabbing a white towel and beginning to dry herself. I used the opportunity to quickly finish washing myself, keenly aware of her presence.


    With the towel wrapped around herself, she padded over to check on her bib overalls.


    "Still pretty damp," she reported, poking at the blue fabric. "Guess I''ll be towel-clad till I discover which box has clothes. Hope this doesn''t scandalize your silly human sensibilities too much."


    I got up from the air mattress, stretching to hide my discomfort. "I''ll live," I said dryly.


    Nessy flopped onto the air mattress with a dramatic sigh, adjusting her towel as she sprawled across the rumpled blankets. Her damp fur left dark patches on the fabric, but she seemed unconcerned, stretching her limbs out.


    ¡°Hey that song you were singing earlier¡­¡± I began.


    ¡°Another tune I wrote four months ago,¡± she replied with a sigh. ¡°A sad one. About calling you over and over and never getting a response. Did you like it?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I nodded. ¡°It was sad but catchy.¡±


    ¡°Aww thanks.¡±


    ¡°There was something about a gun in it,¡± I said. ¡°You can shoot?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a small-town belle, you know. I had a whole stash of guns.¡±


    ¡°Those would be pretty useful right now, no?¡±


    ¡°They would,¡± she pursed her lips. ¡°Had one in a belt holster and the rest in my backpack. All of em¡¯ plus the cans and bullets got ripped right off me by a living magnet shaped like a giant lynx with legs made from junkyard crane bits. Barely got away from the fucker with my fur intact.¡±


    ¡°Damn,¡± I let out. ¡°That sucks.¡±


    ¡°Eh,¡± she shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s not that big a loss¡­ I can always find new guns with my nose. You know what''s been the absolute worst?" she asked, staring up at the ceiling. "Gradually losing my Syn-pack. When you started to pull away from me, I started to go nuts.¡±


    "Wasn''t me," I said, settling on the edge of the mattress, careful to maintain a respectful distance despite her casual positioning.


    She propped herself up on one elbow to look at me. "A human-dog pack isn''t just a random pair that happens to cooperate¡ªthere''s a whole psychological framework to it. We complement each other''s strengths and weaknesses."


    She sat up fully now, her towel slipping slightly before she adjusted it. Her expression had shifted from playful to earnest, ears forward in what I was beginning to recognize as her "serious discussion" pose.


    "Every pradavarian dog is taught from puppyhood that finding your syn-pack is one of life''s most important achievements," she continued. "Some have multiple pack members, some just one. But going packless..." she shuddered visibly, "it''s like missing a limb. Like being half a person."


    I found myself unexpectedly moved by the vulnerability in her voice. "You were packless after... your Alec stopped responding?"


    She nodded, her ears drooping slightly. "Technically, no. The bond doesn''t break just because we''re apart. But functionally?" She shrugged. "Yeah. Might as well have been. Four years of barely any contact, and then none at all. Awful. Infinity out of ten, would not recommend.¡±


    Her paw traced abstract patterns on the blanket, claws catching occasionally on loose threads. "When everything went to hell with the System, that feeling got even worse. It wasn''t just emotional anymore¡ªit was extra-physical. Like an actual unbearable pain in my chest. That''s why I had to find you." She looked up, her blue eyes locking with mine. "And why I''m so stupidly happy to have my syn-pack back, even if it''s... complicated."


    I eyed her.


    "Yes, yes," she waved a dismissive hand. "You think that you are someone else.¡±


    ¡°Nessy,¡± I began.


    ¡°According to your own words you died and bloomed back to life in a bathtub,¡± she said. ¡°My dude, you got reconstituted from rotting flesh, fungal matter and humidity somehow turned into embryonic fluid or whatever. Yet you thought of me as a fake, System-manifested thing!¡±


    ¡°Because it seemed like the simplest explanation at the time,¡± I said. ¡°Yes, I drew the line at a dog-person from another world. My bad for trying to stay sane in an insane situation.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh. And now you have redrawn it at¡­ being my Alec,¡± she said.


    ¡°Explain then how I am your Alec when I don''t recall you or any other pradavarians in my life!¡± I said, thinking that she would once again resort to the ¡®head injury¡¯ logic or something.


    ¡°My nose doesn''t lie,¡± she said, eyes digging into mine. ¡°Especially when using Scrutiosmia. If you are an Alec that bloomed from a dead version of you over God knows how long, then maybe your soul or your current body is more like¡­ a tree.¡±


    ¡°A tree?¡± I repeated.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she nodded. ¡°A tree of Alec-ness. One of the roots or branches of which was in a world where you and I formed a pack!¡±


    ¡°Huh,¡± I mused. ¡°I¡­ It sounds like you are trying to rationalize things, but it is an interesting theory.¡±


    ¡°You are the boy I lost,¡± she smiled softly, wrapping herself around me. ¡°Lost and found. You have to be. He''s in you, I''m certain of it now. You might not remember our promises, but I do. I remember it all for you, because you are my pack leader. Forever and ever.¡±


    So much for letting go of her Alec. And here I thought that we made some progress yesterday.


    I sighed.


    ¡°You have serious abandonment issues,¡± I said.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Her bluntness level was high. I fell silent for a minute.


    ¡°So do you,¡± her wet nose poked my neck, the tightness of her hug intensifying. ¡°Sorry I wasn''t here for you and you had to deal with a less sapient doggo.¡±


    Her head slid across my cheek, rubbing her wet fuzz against me.


    ¡°You''re¡­¡±


    ¡°Being very clingy?¡± She concluded for me. ¡°I know. And I''ll keep doing it because that''s how I roll. I need this¡­ like plants need sunlight and water. I lost you for four years because I clearly wasn''t clingy enough.¡±


    The fuck kind of logic is that.


    ¡°Now I''m going to be like a vice. Forever at your side, guarding your every move, taking good care of your mental state,¡± she added. ¡°I was supposed to be your protector and I failed you. I will not fail you again, Alec!¡±


    Great. We''ve arrived at ¡®Annie Wilkes: I will take good care of you. I''m your number one fan.¡¯ vibes now. At least Nessy seemed well-meaning, unlike the antagonist from the 90s movie Misery.


    ¡°I should have gone with you to the city, shouldn''t have listened to your order to stay in Ferguson! I should have been there for you! I don''t know what happened, but now that I had some rest and bonding time, I realize that you couldn''t have betrayed me, couldn''t have left me on your own. Someone must have done something to you,¡± she growled. ¡°And if and when I find who did it, there will be hell to pay!¡±

 7 Relationship archetypes [I]

    Hell hath no fury like a dog-girl scorned.


    There was something almost frightening about her devotion¡ªthe absolute certainty with which she''d decided I was her childhood-best-friend Alec, the fierce protectiveness that radiated from her.


    "Nessy, you don''t need to¡ª" I began, but she cut me off by pressing her wet nose against my cheek, nuzzling harder.


    "Yes, I do," she insisted, her fur rubbing against my freshly cleaned skin, leaving damp patches behind. "I''m going to stick to you like shed fur on a black suit. Like motor oil on mechanic''s hands. Like¡ª"


    "Yes, I get the picture," I interrupted, trying to create some space between us. Her arms only tightened in response, clawed fingers curling into the fabric of my towel.


    "Do you though?" Her head tilted, those blue eyes staring deep into mine with an intensity that made it hard to look away. "Because I''m not sure you understand just how important this is to me. To us.¡±


    She shifted, somehow managing to wrap herself even more thoroughly around me, her damp tail coiling against my leg. The towel she''d been wearing was slipping precariously, but she seemed utterly unconcerned, focused entirely on maintaining and increasing the fur to skin contact ratio.


    "You''re suffocating me," I said, only half-joking.


    "Am not. You''re still talking, aren''t you?" she countered, but loosened her grip slightly only to start rubbing all over me. "I just... I need this, okay? After everything I''ve gone through, I really need to know you''re really here. That you''re not going to disappear again. That you¡¯re not going to vanish without an explanation.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if this counts as helping my mental state,¡± I said.


    ¡°Eh. It¡¯s helping my mental state which in turn should help your mental state,¡± she said. ¡°If you want to stop ¡®the marking¡¯ then say so very sternly. Make it an order, not just a half-hearted whine.¡±


    "Marking?" I asked, trying to process her words as she continued to distractingly rub against me. "Is that what this is?"


    "Mmhmm," she confirmed, nuzzling her head under my chin. "Scent marking. So other predavarians know you''re part of my pack. It''s instinctual." Her wet nose traced a line up my neck to my ear, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.


    "There aren''t any other predavarians here to smell it," I pointed out, my voice strained as I tried to maintain some semblance of personal space.


    "Don''t care," she replied, her voice muffled against my collarbone as she rubbed her cheek against it. "Makes me feel better. Safer. More connected."


    Her damp fur left trails of moisture across my skin as she continued her determined marking campaign. She shifted again, practically climbing into my lap as her paws kneaded rhythmically against my shoulders. The towel she''d been wearing had now slipped almost completely off, hanging precariously from one side.


    "Nessy, seriously," I protested, trying to hold her at arm''s length. "This is too much."


    "Too much what?" she asked, genuinely puzzled. Her head tilted in that distinctly canine way, ears perked forward attentively. "Too much bonding? Too much comfort? Too much friendship?"


    She was practically shoving me down with her weight now.


    "Too much... unexpected mauling," I said, attempting to create a small gap between us. "Look, I understand you''ve been through a lot. I get that you''re happy to have found me¡ªor someone you think is me. But this level of... physical intensity is pushing it."


    "Why?¡±


    ¡°Because I just met you yesterday, damn it!¡±


    ¡°Not from my point of view,¡± she laughed and then eyed my expression. ¡°Okay, okay¡­ I''ll dial it back from eleven to maybe... a ten? That''s my final offer."


    "How about a three?" I countered.


    She snorted. "A three? What am I, a cat? Nine and a half, and that''s as low as I can go."


    Despite being smothered by her body, I found myself smiling. "Four."


    ¡°No deal,¡± she said. ¡°Just for that lowball offer, I¡¯m bringing it back up to ten and a half. I will follow you everywhere. Even to the bathroom."


    "No. That''s where I draw the line!" I said firmly.


    "Fine, I''ll wait outside the door," she compromised. "Seriously though, I''m still not letting you out of my sniffing range ever again."


    "You''re going to get tired of sniffing me very quickly."


    "Nope," she declared, finally pulling back enough to meet my eyes again. "Dogs don''t get tired of their pack. It''s against our nature."


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°Nessy¡­!¡± I began


    ¡°Alec¡­!¡± She copied my tone exactly.


    We stared at each other, locked in a battle of wills that I was clearly losing. Her face was inches from mine, her breath warming up my face.


    "You''re being ridiculous," I sighed.


    "Ridiculously devoted," she corrected, resuming her rubbing with renewed enthusiasm. Her wet fur left damp trails across my shoulders and neck as she nuzzled against me. "Ridiculously loyal to the pack as is expected of me."


    "That''s not¡ª"


    "Shhh," she interrupted, pressing a fuzzy finger to my lips. "Accept it. I am going to be your shadow, your protector, your constant companion whether you like it or not."


    She continued her thorough marking campaign, circling behind me to rub her cheek against my back, her tail swishing with satisfaction. The towel she''d been wearing had now completely abandoned its post, leaving her entirely unconcerned by her nudity as she methodically covered me in her scent.


    "There," she declared finally, sitting back to admire her handiwork. "Now you smell properly like my pack."


    "Thanks. I just got clean and now I smell like wet dog."


    "You''re welcome," she said cheerfully, completely missing or ignoring my sarcasm. "And it''s premium wet dog, thank you very much. Top-shelf stuff! Accept no substitutes!"


    She padded over to the mountain of boxes. Giggling to herself and wagging her tail she started methodically digging through it.


    ¡°Aha! Clothes!¡± She declared after a few minutes and padded back to unceremoniously dump a box of assorted outfits onto the damp air mattress. There were several t-shirts of various sizes, a pair of jeans that looked too small for me, some cargo pants that might work, and a flannel shirt similar to Calvin''s.


    "No underwear," she observed unnecessarily. "Guess you''ll have to go commando." She winked, her tail wagging mischievously.


    "Thanks for the update," I muttered, sorting through the options. "Could you maybe turn around while I get dressed?"


    "Seriously?" she asked, tilting her head. "After we washed each other?"


    "Yes, seriously," I insisted.


    With an exaggerated eye-roll that involved her entire head, Nessy turned to rest her back against mine, still completely unconcerned about her own nakedness.


    I quickly grabbed the cargo pants and a faded gray t-shirt with a lumberjack brewery logo and


    ¡°Beard Cultivator" tag on it.


    "These will do," I pulled on the pants. The shirt was next, sliding over my head just as Nessy turned back around, apparently deciding she''d been patient long enough.


    "Not bad," she assessed, circling me with a critical eye. "The t-shirt brings out the green in your eyes."


    "I''m more concerned with functionality than fashion," I replied, adjusting the too-loose waistband of the cargo pants.


    "Here," she said, diving back into the box and emerging with a belt. "Function and fashion, two birds with one stone!"


    She approached me with the belt, but instead of handing it over, she proceeded to thread it through the loops herself, her face a mask of concentration as she worked.


    Then she went to the pile of boxes once again. A part of me was expecting her to get dressed but she emerged with a bag of doggie treats and a pet brush.


    She tore open the treats bag, thrust the brush at me and plopped in front of me. ¡°Make with the brushing.¡±


    I hesitated momentarily. "I don''t exactly have experience brushing... Pradavarians."


    "Oh please," she scoffed, looking over her shoulder at me. "You must have brushed one of your¡­ pet dogs at some point in your life, yes?"


    She waved the dog treats at me as if to illustrate her point. The package had a picture of a golden retriever with a wide grin, its tongue hanging out playfully. The bright red background of the package featured bold, white lettering advertising "All-Natural Ingredients" and "Tail-Wagging Flavor!"


    "Well, yes, but¡ª"


    "Same principle," she interrupted, throwing the treats into her mouth and crunching. "Mmm. These are pretty good. N¡¯ways, I''ll tell you if it hurts, so it''ll be even easier."


    "Mkay.¡± I examined the pet brush, noting soft bristles on one side and metal teeth on the other.


    "Just start at the ends and work your way up," she instructed. "Like you would with human hair. And use the soft side for now.¡±


    I began brushing her.


    "Mmm, that''s nice," she hummed after a few strokes. "Go a little harder, s¡¯ all good."


    I applied more pressure, working methodically through the tangles in her fur. It was oddly relaxing, this simple, repetitive motion. The brush slid through the smoother patches with a satisfying swish, catching only occasionally on the knots that had formed during her days of escaping abominations.


    "So," I began, "in your world, what''s the etiquette around this sort of thing? I mean, is brushing someone''s fur as casual as you''re making it seem, or...?"


    Nessy made a contemplative sound. "Depends on the relationship. Family members, sure. Close friends, absolutely. Packmates, definitely. Strangers? Not so much." She tilted her head, considering. "It''s intimate, but not necessarily romantic, if that''s what you''re asking."


    "I wasn''t¡ª" I let out.


    "It''s okay," she laughed. "I''m just teasing. You''re fun to fluster."


    "I''m not flustered," I muttered unconvincingly, focusing on a particularly stubborn tangle near her shoulder.


    "Yeah, sure. Your scent says otherwise," she replied smugly, her tail swatting at me. ¡°You can¡¯t hide stuff from me. I know you too well and you don¡¯t know my weaknesses yet.¡±


    ¡°You have weaknesses?¡± I asked.


    "Everyone has weaknesses," Nessy replied with a shrug that rippled through the fur I was brushing.


    "Like what?" I prompted, genuinely curious. "Belly rubs? Tennis balls? Squirrels?"


    ¡°Yes,¡± she replied.


    ¡°Seriously?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d die for a good belly rub. Ball chasing is super fun and reinforces the pack coordination and the squirrel prad working the UPS counter at Ferguson drives me up the wall.¡±


    ¡°What a stereotypical doggo,¡± I commented.


    "Uh-huh. Plus, I''m overly loyal to a fault. Too trusting sometimes. Really bad at letting go of things." She glanced back at me meaningfully. "Obviously."


    "Obviously," I agreed dryly.


    "I''m also terrible at cooking," she continued. "Like, spectacularly bad. Once I set my apartment on fire trying to make pasta."


    "How do you set pasta on fire?" I asked, returning to my brushing task.


    "Step one: forget you''re making pasta. Step two: leave the kitchen to work on a motorcycle engine downstairs. Step three: remember you were cooking when the smoke alarm goes off."


    I chortled.

 7 Relationship archetypes [II]

    She wiggled her ears. "And I''m hopeless at lying. My ears and tail always give me away."


    "I can see how that would be a problem," I commented, eyeing her wiggling ears. "Having physical tells that you can''t control."


    "Yeah," she sighed. "Made poker night at Will''s Wheels a complete disaster. Lost two weeks'' pay before they finally took pity and stopped inviting me."


    I chortled and continued brushing, methodically working through her lush coat.


    ¡°So,¡± I asked. ¡°Were you actually cold last night?¡±


    Her ears tilted back, tail momentarily pausing its motion.


    ¡°I just¡­ wanted to be closer,¡± she confessed. ¡°Fell asleep for a moment and had a dream that you weren''t real, that you were just going to melt into a puddle of mushrooms. So I relocated closer for a snuggle to fall back asleep.¡±


    ¡°Freaking knew it,¡± I chortled.


    She huffed at me.


    "Hey," Nessy said suddenly, twisting to look at me. "Your drawing last night. The one of me that... did something."


    "What about it?"


    "It feels like pack-stuff to me," she said. "Like, I can sense you through it somehow. And you can sense me through it, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I nodded. ¡°Feels like a twenty fifth hand.¡±


    ¡°Not third?¡±


    ¡°Way, way removed,¡± I said.


    ¡°That just means we need to make the concept and the art stronger,¡± she said. ¡°Reinforce the pack! That¡¯s what I¡¯ve been doing by the way, if you haven¡¯t caught on.¡±


    ¡°And here I thought you were hitting on me.¡±


    "Why would I hit on you? You''re already my Syn-pack leader! That''s waaaay more substantial than any romantic dating thing between two humans or a relationship between a random prad and a human," Nessy huffed, her ears swiveling backward briefly.


    She dug through the pile and pulled on an oversized dark shirt and spun to face me. The shirt sat on her like a dress. She looked simultaneously ridiculous and oddly charming, the tourist logo "WELCOME TO LAKE WINNIPESAUKEE" stretched across her chest.


    ¡°Aight, brush the mane now,¡± she said.


    ¡°Sure,¡± I said, proceeding to deal with her curly, long hair. ¡°So¡­ umm¡­ How do relationships work between different types of prads? Or between pradavarians and humans?"


    Her ears perked up with interest. "Oh? Curious about cross-species dating, are we?"


    "Just trying to understand your world better," I replied a tad too quickly. ¡°I mean that¡¯s where we¡¯re going eventually, right? Pradavarian Ferguson? Wouldn¡¯t wanna get there and act like a clueless idiot.¡±


    "Uh-huh," she said skeptically, but continued. "Well, it''s pretty common actually. Humans date dogs, dogs date humans. Dogs date cats and feathery raptors too, though that usually ends in some kind of drama. Small town pradavarians tend to stick with their own kind more, but city types mix freely."


    "And is it... I mean, how does..." I fumbled, uncertain how to phrase my question.


    "How does what?" she prompted, clearly enjoying my discomfort.


    "Well, how does it work with the... physical differences?" I finally asked.


    "Ah," she nodded sagely. "You''re wondering about the logistics of interspecies intimacy. Verrrry scientific inquiry."


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    She laughed at my expression. "It''s actually pretty straightforward. We''re all compatible in the ways that matter.¡±


    ¡°And kids? Interspecies kids are a thing?


    ¡°Yep.¡±


    ¡°Are prad-human hybrids a thing?¡±


    "Nope," she shook her head. "Genetics don''t work that way. A child is always fully one species or the other - the DNA doesn''t mix to create hybrids. It''s more like... certain genetic markers get activated or suppressed."


    "So a dog and human couple would have either fully human or fully Pradavarian children?" I asked.


    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    "Exactly," she nodded. "But with subtle influences from the other parent. Like, a human child might have sliiiiightly better sense of smell or marginally better night vision. A Pradavarian pup might have better abstract thinking. It''s the small stuff that carries over, plus hair and eye colors.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± I said. ¡°So, circling back to the Syn-pack. What are you expecting of me, exactly?¡±


    Nessy turned to face me. "Leadership. Direction. Purpose. Thinking. Plotting. Brainstorming. That''s what I need from you as my pack partner. Dogs are team players - we''re not meant to be making all the decisions. You set the goals, I help us reach them. You choose the path, I watch our backs. Partnership!"


    "Feels like I haven''t done any leadership," I commented. "You picked to go to Ferguson, you got me to wash and to brush you."


    "''Eh, you''re still a bit of a clueless pup when it comes to your role," she said. "I''m dragging you back into the pack by my metaphorical teeth because that''s what both of us need to survive Systemfall. Just like I dragged you out of the water back when we were kids."


    As she leaned closer towards me, I stared at the angel wings pattern on her forehead.


    For a moment, I could almost feel the cold quarry water filling my lungs, the panic, the darkness¡ªand then those wings reaching out through the suffocating gloom grabbing my shirt with teeth. Then there were paws. Hands?


    Hands pulling me to the shore. Hands striking my chest to restart my heart. Mouth closing around mine, giving me the kiss of life, breathing air into my lungs.


    Her yelling. ¡°Breathe damn it! I can''t lose you! Breathe!!!¡±


    Inhale, exhale, heartbeat. Opening my eyes to look at her tear streaked blue eyes.


    What the fuck. That¡¯s not what happened.


    I blinked.


    ¡°Are you doing¡­ something to my head?¡± I demanded, shaking the vision away.


    ¡°Hum? I¡¯m not doing anything,¡± she said. ¡°Just talking about important stuff. Our mutual goal is to reinforce the pack as much as possible by any means necessary, to make it unbreakable.¡±


    As I considered her words, something dark stirred in my chest.


    ¡°Was your Syn-pack with Pred-Earth Alec unbreakable? Why¡¯d he order you to stay in Ferguson?¡± I demanded, starting to feel annoyed at my twin from another world. ¡°You¡¯re so¡­ devoted, protective, strong, funny¡­ beautiful, damn it!¡±


    She blinked at me, tail wagging intensifying.


    ¡°If he¡¯s really me, if he¡¯s made a blood pact with you, known you for so long¡­ If you saved his life that day at the quarry, why the fuck would he¡­ Why would I give up someone like you? Someone who straight up declared their relationship above mere dating?!¡±


    I ranted on, frustration mounting as I tried to make sense of it all. "You''re like this... force of nature. Like a hurricane of loyalty wrapped in fur. Anyone would be lucky to have you in their corner, fighting for them, believing in them. Hell, you crossed literal warped reality to find your friend! That''s not something anyone just walks away from. Not unless something was seriously wrong."


    Nessy''s ears flattened against her head, her blue eyes widening. "You... you think I''m worth fighting for?" she asked.


    "I think that if I had someone who cared about me the way you care about your Alec, I wouldn''t have ended up drowning in a bathtub," I declared, the words spilling out with unexpected, painful rawness. "I think your Alec had something most people would kill for, and I just can''t understand why he''d throw it away! Either he was blind, or something really terrible happened that made it impossible for him to return."


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Nessy let out. ¡°Maybe.¡±


    ¡°Was your Alec an idiot?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Was he mentally unwell or on drugs?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Was he different from me in some horrendous way that you haven''t yet told me about?¡±


    Nessy''s ears flattened even more, her expression shifting to something pained and complicated. "No... but he started to act weird right before he left for college. He became just a touch more distant, harder on me, more commanding. I trusted him with my life, and considered his orders near-absolute." She looked away, her voice dropping. "When I called, he always had different excuses. ''Too busy with exams.'' ''Working on a project.'' It was like... he became a different person. So smoothly and gradually that by the time I started to panic, it was far too late.¡±


    I felt a chill run down my spine at her words. Did my older brother''s cartel connections find her Alec, threaten him, forcing him to assume a new identity? I tried to picture a cartel with pradavarian thugs on call who could track anyone by smell for miles.


    "Maybe someone got to him," I said slowly. "Someone dangerous. Someone who made him cut ties with his past life, with you.¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡± A low whine escaped her throat. "I should have been more persistent. Should have demanded answers as soon as I noticed the changes." Her claws flexed unconsciously, digging into the mattress. "But I respected his wishes and gave him space, hoping, praying that something would change for the better. I did try to visit once¡ªsurprise him, you know?¡ªthe campus security wolves said that I¡¯m not allowed into the dorms. I tried to get in regardless and they electrocuted me with z-guns and hit me pretty hard over the head with their batons.¡±


    Her eyes became filled with tears.


    ¡°I called him from the hospital after they stitched me up, told him about it and he replied that I was being an idiot and that they had every right to hit me and that I should go back home and wait for him to return like he ordered me to.¡±


    She paused, breathing rapidly.


    ¡°Then¡­ It was like something inside me broke and I just couldn¡¯t push past it, couldn¡¯t drive out again to the city. I felt messed up for a very long time after, and just couldn''t get my shit together¡­ until Systemfall.¡±


    I reached out, pulling her into a hug. It felt like the right thing to do¡ªthe only thing to do¡ªin the face of her raw pain. She stiffened momentarily in surprise, then melted against me, her arms wrapping around my middle, face pressing into my shoulder.


    "I''m sorry that happened to you," I said, genuinely meaning it. "I don¡¯t know what could have forced him to push you away like that, but you definitely don¡¯t deserve it.¡±


    She clung to me, trembling slightly. Her fur was damp against my skin, her breath hot against my neck. We stayed like that for several long moments, the silence broken only by her occasional sniffles.


    Eventually, she pulled back, wiping her eyes with the back of her paw. "Look at me," she said with a forced laugh, "getting all emotional again, when I should be your support doggo. Sorry.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I said. ¡°Let''s go see if maybe we can locate some cold breakfast or something, yeah?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±

 8 Basic Questing

    Stepping from the storage room into the main shop, we discovered Calvin there standing by the counter. He wore an oversized forest-green backpack that made him look like a peculiar Santa Claus who''d wandered into the wrong holiday. His tinfoil hat gleamed under the flickering fluorescent lights, reflecting tiny fragments of silver across the room.


    "Ah! Good tomorrow, sleepyheads!" he announced, his silver-blue eyes twinkling with genuine delight. "Just in time too. I''ve returned triumphant from my morning quest with bountiful treasures!"


    ¡°Did you discover the city¡¯s name?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Not exactly,¡± he replied. ¡°I did find out that our city is being infested with another city called Eureka though, so there¡¯s that¡­ but I refuse to call it Eureka because that would just make Eureka win and that¡¯s probably a bad idea since Eureka is a dastardly, extra-Syntropic entity.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± I said.


    Nessy''s tail wagged enthusiastically behind her as she padded forward, her makeshift T-shirt dress swaying around her knees. Calvin began rummaging through his backpack with exaggerated ceremony, the sticky-note eyes adorning his jacket seeming to watch us.


    "For you, good Knight Alecai," he declared, pulling out a pair of bright green sneakers and tossing them to me. They were slightly scuffed and spotted with dark, oily residue but otherwise in decent condition. "Found these in the ruins of what was once a glorious temple of commerce¡ªor as we used to call it, the nearby mall."


    I caught the shoes, examining them with surprise and gratitude. My feet, bare until now, had been increasingly uncomfortable on the debris-strewn floors. "Thanks. These look like they might actually fit. How¡¯d you know my size?¡±


    ¡°My eyes can see many things,¡± he grinned. ¡°Basic measurements are especially easy to note thanks my level of Wisdom and Intelligence.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I put on the shoes. They felt¡­ comfortable, far better than the muddy construction worker boots I had on yesterday.


    "And for Lady Nessia," Calvin continued, producing a folded bundle of fabric with a flourish, "something to cover your posterior, perhaps?"


    Nessy took the offering, unfolding it to reveal a dark skirt with an elastic waistband. Her ears perked forward as she examined it, nostrils flaring as she sniffed the garment thoroughly.


    "Smells like mothballs and perfume," she announced, but her tail continued its pleased swishing. "But I love it! Thank you!"


    As we donned our gifts¡ªme sitting on a nearby stool to lace up the sneakers, Nessy slipping the skirt under the shirt¡ªCalvin bustled about, arranging newly procured foodstuff cans on the counter like game pieces on a board.


    "You didn''t merely find these clothes at random," I observed, noticing the methodical way he moved. "You went looking for them specifically."


    ¡°Of course,¡± Calvin tapped his tinfoil hat knowingly. "Got up at 4:44 AM to stare at a newly procured mirror in the moonlight and then gave myself a quest! ''Find suitable attire for my guests.'' The System rewards those who create purpose, you see."


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°The System is an extra-Entropic Omni-entity masquerading as an extra-Syntropic Omni-entity,¡± Calvin explained. ¡°At least that¡¯s what my drawn mouths whispered to me. Like a wicked witch villain masquerading as a hero! Trying to do her Goodest through often rather questionable, nefarious means.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I squinted at him, not sure whether he was just making random shit up or actually somehow blessing me with an artifact-divined truth about the new nature of reality. ¡°And how did the System get here to begin with?¡±


    ¡°The Wormwood Star carried it home when it arrived,¡± Calvin explained, sounding like a biblical preacher ranting about the end of days. ¡°And upon its tail it carried Hunger, Pestilence, Infinity and Entropy!¡±


    ¡°Wheee,¡± Nessy twirled in her skirt, completely ruining the doomsday atmosphere produced by Calvin¡¯s words, the fabric flaring around her thighs.


    "So you can give yourself Quests," she said. "Like video games?"


    "Indeed," Calvin nodded sagely. "Except, you know, with real consequences and the possibility of horrific death." He said this with such cheerful nonchalance that it took a moment for the gravity of his words to register.


    I finished tying my new shoes, appreciating how they fit almost too perfectly. "So you just... decide to do something, and that becomes a quest?"


    "It''s a bit more complex than that," Calvin replied, leaning against the counter. "Intent matters. Specificity matters. Challenge matters. The System seems to recognize and reward purposeful action, especially if it involves change, growth, exploration, or simply overcoming deadly obstacles. I think that she feels bad about the whole breaking the world business.¡±


    ¡°Systemmy broke the world and she feels bad about it?¡± Nessy chortled.


    ¡°No,¡± Calvin shook his head. ¡°Our Earth was already doomed, in freefall towards oblivion before the System came. The System did break some stuff when the Wormwood Star collided with our planet, but she¡¯s also trying to fix stuff, in her own, alien, eldritch way.¡±


    ¡°Can you bless us with a starter Quest, oh wise Sensei?¡± Nessy bobbed. ¡°I¡¯d like a Quest to smother Alec in a big hug!¡±


    I squinted at her.


    "The System won¡¯t accept such a mundane Quest,¡± Calvin said with a smile. ¡°But, I did foresee your desire for Questing and prepared a starter quest for you two, if you''re willing."


    ¡°Aww heck. Welp I¡¯m gonna do it anyway ¡®cus I wanna,¡± she rapidly circled and engulfed me in a floofy, still somewhat damp hug.


    "What¡¯s our starter quest?" I voiced out of her embrace.


    "Nothing too dangerous,¡± our bearded guru said. ¡°Just a little task to help you learn the ropes."


    He led us to the window, pointing to the parking lot in the front.


    ¡°Procure some fluid concrete with a bucket, avoid the nippers and plant a tree in the back.¡±


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°What kind of a tree?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I smell that the System gave you a low level reward recently,¡± Calvin said. ¡°Learn how to make it bloom before it dies.¡±


    ¡°Uhhh¡­¡± I blinked.


    ¡°Plant it in my back garden,¡± he clarified. ¡°Nurture it with your love and concrete-life-fluid and sunlight from a living lamp. Defend it from small, pesky predators until the little tree gets strong enough to defend itself. That is my quest.¡±


    ¡°Yay!¡± Nessy commented, still clinging to my side.


    ¡°A hearty quest for a hearty pair!¡± He grinned at us. ¡°The base goals of every couple should be to plant a tree, procure a house and produce strong kids!¡±


    I felt my cheeks burning at his words as Nessy¡¯s tail went ballistic with the wagging.


    ¡°Eeeeeeeee,¡± she squeed into my ear. ¡°Sandwichu is going to be a mom!¡±


    "A piece of advice before you venture forth, young questers," he added. "Stick together out there. Watch each other''s backs."


    He tapped a shelf where several small, crude eye drawings clustered. "My domain reinforces reality around it¡ªmakes things more... stable, more predictable. But that stability weakens the farther you get from here. Even low-level things lurking nearby can still take out an eye or a finger if you''re not careful."


    Nessy''s ears swiveled nervously at his words, her tail curling slightly between her legs. "Low-level things like¡­?" she repeated, glancing at me with concern.


    "Little ankle-biters," Calvin explained, wiggling his fingers in a grasping motion. "Tiny conceptoids, partial manifestations, reality hiccups. They don''t have enough substance yet to kill you outright, but they can chip away at you, bit by bit." He smiled suddenly, the serious moment passing like a cloud across the sun. "Nothing you two can''t handle, I''m sure! Just keep your wits about you, yeah? I¡¯ll be about, reinforcing my wards. Yell if you get into a situation you can¡¯t resolve and are dying horribly.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir!¡± Nessy saluted our ¡®guru¡¯, finally letting go of me.


    ¡°Why are you helping us? What in this for you?¡± I wondered, the usual people-mistrust gnawing at my metaphorical heels.


    ¡°Oi, Alec, don¡¯t be rude to our sagely Systemfall Sensei,¡± Nessy elbowed me.


    ¡°No offense taken,¡± Calvin laughed. ¡°One of my current Quests is to make you ¡®bloom¡¯.¡±


    "Bloom?" I echoed, staring at Calvin with suspicion that I couldn''t quite suppress. The word carried unsettling connotations after my bathtub rebirth experience.


    "Yes!" Calvin clapped his hands together excitedly. "The Systemfall-bound world is a garden where dead things bloom. Don''t fret, for it is my quest to help you unlock your full potential! Nurture your growth! Every teacher needs students, every guru needs disciples, every wise man needs someone to impart wisdom to! Otherwise, what''s the point of all this accumulated knowledge?" He gestured expansively at his sticky-note covered domain. ¡°I don¡¯t just get rewarded for learning new things about the universe, see, I also get experience and rewards for teaching you things so that you can stand on your own four legs and impart knowledge to others, help humanity survive Systemfall!¡±


    I glanced at Nessy, who seemed entirely unfazed by Calvin''s words. Her tail swished with anticipation, blue eyes bright with excitement at the prospect of our first "quest."


    "Before we go," I said, turning back to Calvin, ¡°I wanted to know about the whole attributes thing. For example, the System says that Nessy has only one point in intelligence, but I can clearly see that she¡¯s not stupid.¡±


    ¡°Aww you don¡¯t think that I¡¯m as dumb as a brick,¡± Nessy commented. ¡°How nice.¡±


    ¡°Attribute stats are NOT mundane rankings of your intelligence or strength levels,¡± Calvin explained. ¡°They are numerical quantification of one''s soul potential."


    "Soul potential?" I repeated.


    ¡°Yes!¡± Calvin nodded. "Your stats don''t necessarily correlate to your physical body, but rather to your soul''s capacity to tie itself to particular artifacts, concepts, and realities."


    "So souls¡­ exist," I mused sarcastically. "With¡­ numerical values attached to them."


    ¡°Alec!¡± Nessy gasped dramatically beside me, her ears flattening against her head. "How can you not believe in souls? Every living thing has one!"


    "Well, you would think that," I replied. "Coming from a world where animals talk and work at the post office."


    "It''s not just a belief," she protested, her tail bristling slightly. "I mean, yes I¡¯m a goodly Nazarite and used to go to church every Sunday, but it¡¯s also a sniffable reality! Every pradavarian knows their soul is connected to their pack!¡±


    ¡°Nazarite?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯d show you my little steel cross-sword but the Magnetic-lynx ripped off my necklace,¡± Nessy clarified. ¡°Many prads worship the leviathan¡¯s slayer.¡±


    I stared at her, wondering where Christianity had gone sideways in her world.


    "Pre-Systemfall, souls were definitely a matter of faith or philosophy. But now?" Calvin spread his hands wide. "Now everything has a quantifiable soul¡ªnot just people and animals, but objects, concepts, even locations. Tools like my Identifier and eye-notes make the immaterial quite measurable."


    I stared at the tinfoil-hat man wondering the weight of a human soul.


    ¡°Negative zero point zero, zero, four grams,¡± Calvin answered, as if he saw my thoughts with his note-eyes. "The journey is the destination! Now off with you both! I¡¯m expecting a Celestorm by mid-afternoon, and the nippers grow more numerous in the gloom."


    He thrust a cereal box into my hands. ¡°Snack on this while you Quest.¡±


    [Quest: Make it bloom! Grow a tree from your first basic reward item.] Silver letters danced across my eyes.


    We returned to our room. I chewed on a few handfuls of cereal and then retrieved my stop sign from where I''d propped it against the wall.


    "Are we really going to treat this like a video game quest?" I asked, watching as Nessy rummaged through the shelves, apparently looking for something.


    "Why not?" she replied, her tail wagging as she stretched up on her toes to reach the top shelf. "Quest-thinking provides purpose. A direction." She made a triumphant noise and pulled down the half-eaten sandwich she''d stashed, now wrapped in tinfoil. "Found you, Sandwichu!"


    "Did you wrap that up more?" I stared at her.


    "Yes."


    "..."


    "Don''t judge me," she commented, carefully tucking the sandwich into her bag. "Sandwichu is our reward from the System, so that''s what we gonna plant!"


    ¡°Right."


    The husky-girl grinned at me, tail wagging as she grabbed the orange bucket from the blue kiddie pool.


    "This is my life now," I mumbled, more to myself than to Nessy. ¡°Planting sandwiches with a dog-person.¡±


    ¡°Could be worse,¡± she shrugged, putting on her bag with water bottles. "Come on, big smile now. It''s our first syn-pack quest! Yay!"


    Her enthusiasm was infectious, despite my lingering skepticism. I found myself smiling as she bounced on her toes, clearly excited about our impending mission.


    We stepped out of the mini-mart into the broken world beyond Calvin''s domain. The air felt different here¡ªthinner somehow, charged with a subtle electricity that made the hair on my arms stand on end. The parking lot stretched before us, cracked asphalt rippling like frozen waves. In the center, a puddle of liquid concrete held shopping carts in its embrace.


    "There''s our first objective," I pointed with the stop sign.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Nessy sniffed the air, her nostrils flaring. "I smell danger," she muttered, her posture shifting subtly. Gone was the bouncy enthusiasm from moments before, replaced by a predatory alertness of a hunter.


    "Where?" I asked, scanning our surroundings. The empty lot seemed devoid of threats.


    "Everywhere," she whispered, moving closer to me, her shoulder brushing against mine. "Little things. Watching. Waiting."


    ¡°Where particularly?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The shadows, about nine meters out,¡± she said. ¡°Don¡¯t blink. Pretend you¡¯re not looking at them.¡±


    I did. After a minute of staring, I noticed movement at the edges of my vision¡ªquick, darting shapes no larger than rats, skittering between cracks in the pavement and behind the rusted hulks of abandoned cars. Trios of red eyes, dark, glistening, ferromagnetic-fluid-like bodies with far too many tiny limbs.


    ¡°Nippers!¡± she whispered conspiratorially. ¡°I think that¡¯s the beasties that Sensei Calvin mentioned.¡±

 9 Getting the Nip [I]

    The nippers swarmed at the edges of our vision, their ferrofluid bodies shifting and contorting as they moved. Small, eldritch things with too many limbs and not enough purpose¡ªlike concepts that hadn''t quite finished becoming real.


    "So what''s the plan?" Nessy whispered, her back pressing against mine as we surveyed the threat circling us. "We need that concrete for Sandwichu''s planting bed."


    "I''m thinking," I muttered, gripping the stop sign tighter. The creatures hadn''t attacked yet, but their movements were growing more agitated, their trio of red eyes glinting with what seemed like malevolent curiosity.


    One darted forward suddenly¡ªa quick, testing lunge that Nessy met with a snarl, her canines flashing in the sunlight. The nipper retreated, but others grew bolder, edging closer.


    "They''re coordinating," I observed, watching their movements. "Like a hive mind."


    "Or a pack," Nessy countered, her ears swiveling to track sounds I couldn''t hear. "But without an alpha."


    An idea struck me. "The concrete puddle¡ªit''s what they''re guarding, not what they''re after."


    "How do you know?"


    "Look at how they''re positioned. They''re not approaching the puddle; they''re forming a perimeter around it."


    Nessy nodded, her nose twitching as she processed this information. "So what do we do? Fight through them?"


    "No," I said, remembering Calvin''s words about confrontation. "We need a distraction. Something to draw them away."


    My hand brushed against the cereal box Calvin had given us. I pulled it out of Nessy¡¯s bag feeling the weight of its contents. Not much, but maybe enough.


    "When I give the signal," I whispered, "run for the concrete. Fill the bucket and don''t look back."


    "What signal?" Nessy asked, her voice tight with concern.


    I smiled grimly. "Just watch."


    With a fluid motion, I tore open the cereal box and flung its contents high into the air in the opposite direction from the concrete puddle. The multicolored bits scattered like confetti, catching the light as they fell.


    The effect was immediate and unsettling. The nippers froze, their red eyes tracking the falling cereal with an intensity that bordered on reverence. Then, as one, they surged toward the scattered food, their bodies rippling with excitement.


    "NOW!" I shouted, pushing Nessy toward the puddle.


    She didn''t hesitate, sprinting across the cracked pavement with a speed that reminded me she wasn''t human. Her digitigrade legs carried her in graceful bounds, the bucket clutched tightly in her hands, black skirt flying.


    I followed, keeping my eyes on the writhing mass of nippers now frantically consuming the cereal. They moved with disturbing efficiency, each piece disappearing into their amorphous bodies.


    Nessy reached the puddle, plunging the bucket into the iridescent concrete with a determined grunt. The liquid seemed to respond to her touch, swirling with colors that shouldn''t exist in ordinary concrete.


    "Hurry!" I called, noticing that some of the nippers were beginning to lose interest in the cereal, their attention returning to us.


    "I''m trying!" she replied, struggling with the bucket. "It''s... it''s heavy and¡­ fighting me! Arffff!¡±


    I reached her side just as the concrete began to rise up from the puddle, forming tendrils that wrapped around the bucket like possessive fingers. Nessy let out a yelp of surprise, her claws digging into the plastic handle.


    "Let go!" I shouted, swinging the stop sign at the tendrils. The metal connected with a sound like breaking glass, and the concrete recoiled momentarily.


    Nessy yanked the bucket free, now quarter-filled with the strange substance. "Got it!" she exclaimed triumphantly.


    Our victory was short-lived. The disturbed concrete puddle began to vibrate, sending ripples across its surface. From its depths rose a larger nipper¡ªnot simply a scaled-up version of the smaller ones, but something more evolved, more deliberate in its form. Its body was the size of a large dog, with many limbs that resembled twisted rebar and a head dominated by seven glowing red eyes.


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "Alpha," Nessy breathed, her ears swinging back.


    The smaller nippers abandoned their feast, scurrying back to form a protective circle around their larger kin. The alpha nipper fixed its gaze on us, particularly on the bucket in Nessy''s hands.


    "Run," I said quietly, placing myself between her and the creature. "Get back to Calvin''s."


    "Not without you," she growled, her free hand tightly gripping my arm.


    The alpha nipper let out a sound¡ªnot quite a roar, not quite a hiss, but something in between that made my teeth ache and my vision blur momentarily sounding like a snapping staple-gun. It began to advance, its movements deliberate and predatory.


    I raised the stop sign, ready to defend us, when a silver text suddenly flashed before my eyes:


    [Quest Update: First blood drawn! Achievement unlocked: "Ankle Appetizer."]


    ¡°Ankle-whaa¡­. Ahhhh, shit, God damn it!¡± I yelped in pain, shaking a nipper off my ankle. The dark fluid critter¡¯s tiny jaws sunk deep into my skin, drawing blood.


    I swatted at it with the stop sign, batting it away from me. It hit the ground with a wet splat but immediately began reforming itself, its red eyes never leaving me.


    The alpha nipper was now only fifteen feet away, its followers forming a living carpet of writhing darkness behind it.


    Then, with shocking speed, it lunged.


    I swung the stop sign with all my strength, connecting solidly with the creature''s mass. The impact sent vibrations up my arms, nearly numbing my hands, but the alpha was knocked sideways, skidding across the pavement.


    "Run, damn it!" I shouted again, already backing away. This time Nessy didn''t argue, turning to sprint toward Calvin''s mini-mart with the bucket clutched to her chest.


    I followed, risking glances over my shoulder. The alpha was recovering quickly, reorganizing its distorted form. The smaller nippers swarmed around it, seeming to offer pieces of themselves to help it rebuild.


    We were halfway back to Calvin''s when the concrete in Nessy''s bucket began to glow with an intense blue light.


    "What the¡ª" she yelped, nearly dropping it.


    "Keep going!" I urged as I heard the distinctive sound of the alpha''s pursuit behind us.


    The glow intensified, illuminating Nessy''s fur with an ethereal blue radiance. Streams of light began to escape from the bucket, forming intricate patterns in the air around her¡ªsymbols and glyphs that seemed vaguely familiar, though I couldn''t place them.


    [Quest Update: The Concrete has swiped right on your profile! Achievement unlocked: "Hot Single Minerals In Your Area." Warning: Commitment issues detected.]


    "It''s talking to me!" Nessy gasped.


    "Keep moving, damn it!" I insisted, risking another glance behind us. The alpha nipper was gaining, its seven eyes blazing like angry stars amidst its dark fluid body.


    Nessy stopped completely, turning to face our pursuer. Before I could protest, she thrust her hand into the glowing concrete.


    "What are you doing?!" I shouted.


    "Trust me," she replied, her voice unusually calm. "I know what I''m doing¡­ I think."


    The blue light engulfed her arm, spreading around it in radial patterns.


    "I claim you!" She inhaled and barked at the concrete. "Not as a prisoner, but as part of my pack. Will you choose us over them?"


    The alpha nipper skidded to a halt just yards away, its smaller kin gathering around it. It seemed wary now, its attention fixed on the glowing bucket rather than on us.


    For a moment, nothing happened. Then the concrete surged up Nessy''s right arm, coating it in a gleaming gray gauntlet of semi-fluid concrete that hardened instantly.


    [Alliance formed! Achievement unlocked: "Cement Mixer, Not a Heartbreaker." Your relationship status is now: It''s Complicated (with Minerals).]


    Nessy grinned, flexing her newly armored hand. The concrete moved with her, flowing like quicksilver yet solid where needed.


    "Time to party, fuckers!" Nessy growled, her ears forward in a predatory stance.


    The alpha nipper let out another of those unsettling staple-gun sounds. The smaller nippers pressed closer to it, as if seeking reassurance.


    "You want this tasty concrete?" Nessy taunted, chucking the empty orange bucket towards the entrance of the Mini-mart. "Come and get it!"


    She rushed forward to meet the alpha, her concrete-armored fist raised.


    They collided with a sound like thunder, the impact sending shockwaves across the parking lot. The alpha''s mass distorted around Nessy''s armored fist, its form momentarily losing cohesion before reforming several feet away.


    Nessy howled with delight, the sound so primal and canine it sent shivers down my spine. She charged the alpha, her movements a blur of speed and precision. The concrete fist bubbled around her hand.


    A silver flash in my peripheral vision drew my attention:


    [Quest update: Your companion fights valiantly! Achievement unlocked: "Spectator Sport." Would you prefer to A) Join the fray, B) [System error], or C) Run away screaming and sacrifice your husky companion to the Nipper Alpha? Note: Option C comes with a complementary paper bag for hyperventilation.]


    The question forced a decision. Nessy seemed to be holding her own, the concrete glove giving her an edge against the alpha. But, the smaller nippers were beginning to regroup, circling around to attack her from behind.


    "Hey!" I shouted, drawing the attention of the baby nippers. "Over here, you little bastards!"


    They turned as one, their red eyes fixing on me with malevolent interest. I braced myself, feet planted firmly on the broken pavement.


    "Come on then," I muttered, twirling the stop sign like a staff. "Let''s dance."

 9 Getting the nip [II]

    The nippers surged forward, their tiny limbs propelling them across the ground with disturbing speed. I swung the stop sign in wide arcs, connecting with several at once, sending them flying in all directions. They were individually weak, but their numbers made them dangerous.


    One latched onto my leg, its teeth piercing through the cargo pants to the flesh beneath. Another rapidly climbed my back, seeking vulnerable spots. I spun, dislodging some, crushing others beneath my feet.


    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nessy and the alpha locked in combat, swatting at each other with claws of dark, glistening fluid and concrete glove. The husky was panting, the glove clearly heavy and unbalancing her slightly.


    Numbers flashed above both as time seemed to slow between the swing of the stop sign and its impact against the mass of nippers.


    [Nessy HP: 83%]


    [CreteGlove HP: 21%]


    Nessy let out a battle cry that was equal parts human determination and canine fury. Her concrete glove crackled with strain as she swung at the alpha, the impact sending vibrations across the parking lot. I could see her muscles tensing beneath her fur, her eyes narrowed with single-minded focus.


    [Nessy HP: 81%]


    [CreteGlove HP: 16%]


    The impact sent the Nipper Alpha flying backwards, but it was clear that each hit was hurting Nessy and damaging the precious concrete. If they kept at it, the CreteGlove would likely perish.


    A nipper latched onto my shoulder, its teeth finding the gap between my collarbone and neck. Pain flared, hot and immediate. I reached back, grabbing its slick, ferrofluid body and tearing it away, leaving behind a trail of my own blood.


    [Health: 87% | Achievement unlocked: "Nipper Blood Donor"]


    Pain blossomed across my shoulder, a crimson flower unfurling beneath my skin. I staggered, momentarily disoriented by the flashing silver text that seemed to mock my suffering. The smaller nippers swarmed around me, an undulating carpet of malevolence, their tiny teeth seeking purchase on any exposed flesh.


    I caught sight of Calvin standing in the doorway of the mini-mart. He leaned casually against the frame, sipping from what appeared to be a chipped mug with a faded red heart design against a black square.


    His tinfoil hat gleamed in the fading light as he gave us an enthusiastic thumbs up, his expression that of a proud teacher watching students tackle a particularly challenging exam.


    "Little help here?" I called out, my voice strained with effort and pain.


    Calvin merely raised his mug in salute, making no move to intervene. His eyes¡ªboth the biological pair and the dozens of paper ones adorning his clothing¡ªobserved my suffering with academic interest.


    Nessy was still locked in combat with the alpha, her concrete-armored fist landing blow after devastating blow. But I could see her strength waning, her movements becoming less precise, more desperate. The concrete gauntlet was cracking, small fragments falling away with each impact.


    [Nessy HP: 78%]


    [CreteGlove HP: 11%]


    Realization struck me with sudden clarity: I was accomplishing absolutely nothing with my sign swinging. The smaller nippers were essentially invincible, reforming after each blow. And Nessy''s battle with the alpha was a war of attrition she couldn''t possibly win.


    I abandoned my futile assault on the smaller creatures and charged toward Nessy, my stop sign raised high. The nippers pursued, their tiny fluid-limbs carrying them across the broken pavement with disturbing speed.


    "Roll!" I shouted as I reached her side.


    To her credit, Nessy didn''t hesitate, dropping into a crouch and rolling left out of my way. The alpha, momentarily confused by this new development, paused its attack¡ªthe perfect opening.


    I brought the edge of the stop sign down with all my strength, cleaving through the alpha''s amorphous form where its neck might have been if it had conventional anatomy. The metal edge passed through with surprising ease, like slicing through cold molasses.


    The alpha''s seven red eyes blinked in astonishment, its body separating into two distinct halves that slumped uselessly to the ground. A horrific, static-filled screech emanated from both pieces¡ªnot the sound of dying, but of outrage.


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    "Run!" I grabbed Nessy''s non-concrete arm, pulling her toward Calvin''s mini-mart. "Now!"


    She didn''t need to be told twice. We sprinted across the parking lot. Behind us, the alpha''s halves were already stretching toward each other, trying to reconstitute.


    The smaller nippers gave chase, their bodies flowing like liquid mercury across the cracked asphalt. One latched onto my sneaker and calves, its teeth and claws sinking deep. Another caught the hem of Nessy''s skirt, another was climbing rapidly toward her thigh.


    Pain flared with each step, but we didn''t slow, didn''t look back. The mini-mart''s entrance loomed before us, Calvin still watching with that same infuriating calm from his position inside, as if we were simply returning from a leisurely stroll rather than fleeing for our lives.


    We stumbled across the threshold, collapsing onto the faded linoleum floor in a heap of panting exhaustion and adrenaline. I expected the nippers to follow, to surge into the store after us or for Calvin to shut the door. Instead the little monsters stopped abruptly at the entrance¡ªa roiling, seething mass of dark ferrofluid that refused to cross the invisible line where Calvin''s domain began.


    I noted that the ones clinging to us washed off our bodies as we crossed the threshold of the doorway.


    The ginger bearded man stepped forward, regarding the creatures with stern disapproval, like a principal confronting misbehaving students.


    "Now, now," he chided sternly. "You know the rules. This is my domain. You are not welcome here. Shoo off."


    The nippers responded with a cacophony of clicks and electronic whines that somehow conveyed both frustration and bargaining. The sound was incomprehensible to me, yet Calvin nodded as if understanding perfectly.


    "I see," he replied, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "You want your life-crete back. You believe it belongs to you."


    More clicks, more whines. The alpha had partially reformed now, its halves joined by thin strands of dark matter that were thickening by the second. Its eyes glowed with undisguised malice.


    "Well, that''s where you''re wrong," Calvin continued, his voice taking on a lecturing tone. "The life-crete doesn''t belong to you. It never did. A small shard of it chose them." He gestured toward Nessy''s armored hand, which was now crumbling. Somehow the husky-girl knew exactly what to do and held her hand over the orange bucket, watching as the concrete flaked off, once again filling the container.


    The nippers'' response was a harsh burst of static that needed no translation.


    Denial. Rage. Threat.


    Calvin''s expression hardened, his silver-blue eyes narrowing beneath the brim of his tinfoil hat. "I suggest you reconsider your position," he said quietly. "This is my domain, and my word here is law. The life-crete shard made its choice. You would do well to respect that."


    He pulled out his gun and pointed it at the Nipper Alpha.


    "I suggest you leave," he commanded, his voice resonating with unexpected authority. "Before I decide that your existence is unnecessary to my purpose. Consider the following¨Cunlike my apprentice¡¯s sign-weapon which only momentarily stops you, my Syntropic bullets have the power to inflict ever-increasing pain and death on your otherwise limitless existence. What is worth more to you, finite life-crete which will expire and harden in a few days'' time or potentially endless pain from a wound that will never, ever heal?¡±


    The nippers retreated slightly, their aggression dampened by something like uncertainty. The alpha''s eyes dimmed fractionally, its newly reformed body tensing as if preparing for another attack.


    Then, with surprising suddenness, it turned and slithered away, its smaller kin following like a receding tide of darkness. Within moments, the smaller nippers had disappeared into the cracks and shadows of the parking lot, leaving behind only small smears of ferrofluid that evaporated in the cold air.


    The alpha snarled sounding like a hundred clacking staple-guns and then retreated back into the concrete puddle, vanishing in its depths. One of the shopping carts suspended in the concrete wobbled ever so slightly and then the view became perfectly still.


    Calvin returned his gun into its holster with a satisfied nod.


    "Well done, questers," he turned to us with a broad smile. "You''ve successfully procured the life-crete! And with minimal blood loss, too! Most impressive."


    I stared at him incredulously, still half-sprawled on the floor, blood seeping from multiple bite wounds. "You could have helped," I managed, panting and wincing.


    "Nah," Calvin shook his head emphatically. "That would have defeated the purpose entirely. Quests must be completed by the questers, or they hold far less reward value." He tapped his tinfoil hat knowingly. "Besides, I had complete faith in your abilities."


    Nessy, who had been examining the procured concrete with dog-like fascination, looked up at this. "You knew we''d succeed?"


    "Let''s just say the probability was favorable," Calvin replied. "You''ve not only successfully obtained the concrete but gained its allegiance. A rare achievement indeed! There¡¯s some bandages and other medical supplies on that there shelf. Patch yourselves up and use the concrete before it¡­ expires.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s gonna expire?!¡± Nessy barked, eyes growing wide.


    ¡°It is quite damaged and disconnected from the rest of the puddle,¡± Calvin nodded. ¡°And slowly dying. It cannot exist long in its current state. Use it to create new life before it hardens forevermore.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s¡­¡± the husky-girl whined.


    "The concrete chose you, yes," Calvin stated. "Formed a bond. Materials, especially transformed ones, have preferences now. Loyalties. The Nipper Alpha is feasting on it, guarding it because it recognized its value, not because it belonged to it." He smiled broadly. "And now it belongs to you, but it will not last long. Which means our quest can proceed to its next phase."


    "Planting Sandwichu, yeah?" Nessy asked, panting, wide tongue out.


    ¡°Yes. Don¡¯t be sad for the concrete,¡± Calvin said. ¡°Its devotion will carry onto the next stage of the bloom when it dies.¡±


    ¡°Okkay,¡± Nessy smiled with renewed enthusiasm, her tail beginning to wag despite her obvious exhaustion and her bleeding hands and feet.

 10: Bandaid for your soul

    Calvin led us to a shelf stocked with a few medical supplies¡ªgauze, bandages, and a bunch of random pills arranged in neat rows. My limbs trembled slightly, adrenaline ebbing away to reveal the true extent of my injuries. The nipper bites, though small, stung like hell.


    "Here''s your physical reward for a job well done," Calvin said and handed Ness what looked a plastic tube.


    The husky unrolled the tube and pulled out a tank top. "Woo! More clothes!"


    "I''ll leave you to patch yourselves up," Calvin said, tipping his tinfoil hat before retreating to his office.


    As his footsteps faded, I slumped against the shelf, wincing as my weight shifted onto my injured leg. Blood had soaked through my cargo pants, leaving dark stains that spread like spilled ink.


    Ness immediately pulled off her oversized, dirt and blood-splattered, sliced t-shirt and put on the tank top without even turning around. I tried not to stare, but saw everything once again.


    Was she doing this on purpose? She had to, right?


    "Let me see," Nessy said, her voice extra soft as she knelt before me. Her eyes, startling blue pools that seemed to reflect an entirely different world, held genuine concern.


    "I''m fine," I muttered, the lie automatic.


    I''d grown used to tending my own wounds¡ªboth physical and emotional¡ªfor as long as I could remember. My parents had always been too busy fawning over my brother to notice my scraped knees or broken hearts.


    "Shush," she replied, but there was no bite to her words. "You''re not fine. These nips need cleaning."


    Before I could protest further, she rolled up my pant leg, revealing the angry puncture wounds left by the nippers'' teeth. Without hesitation, she leaned forward and¡ªto my absolute shock¡ªbegan licking the wounds.


    "What are you doing?" I tried to pull away.


    She held my ankle firmly, her strength once again catching me off guard. "My saliva contains enzymes that kill bacteria," she explained between licks. "A natural antiseptic.¡±


    ¡°Isn''t there some alcohol here or something?¡± I groaned.


    She eyed the shelf with the bandages and resumed her licking. ¡°Nope.¡±


    "Argh. That''s¡ª" I sputtered, shuddering as her tongue moved over my skin. The sensation was bizarre¡ªwarm and gentle, oddly soothing despite the weirdness.


    "Relax," she said, pausing to look up at me. "I''ve been doing this since I was a pup. My mom used to lick my scrapes all the time."


    "That doesn''t make it better," I pointed out, then winced at how that sounded. ¡°Is there any of that¡­ entropic shit in the wound?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she replied with a sniff and resuming licking. ¡°Nothing. Those things were conceptually weak and their matter dissolved when it was disconnected.¡±


    I fell silent.


    When she finished, Nessy reached for the bandages and began wrapping my injuries, clawed fingers working with practiced precision. She hummed softly as she worked.


    ¡°Wounds that bleed beneath your skin</a>


    Deeper than the nippers'' teeth


    Let me in, let me in


    I promise I won''t leave¡­


    You built your walls so carefully


    To keep the world at bay


    But I can smell your history


    The scars you try to hide away¡­¡±


    "Where did you learn to do this?" I asked after about a minute of listening to her song about us climbing trees, childhood sleepovers, ice skating and her current dedication to ''guarding me while I''m sleeping''.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Singing so well. Coming up with songs on the fly?¡±


    ¡°I dunno. Maybe you''re just really good inspiration? I did spend four years trying to hopelessly build up the courage to impress you, to self improve my songery. Singery? Improvised singing! But then again, this rhymes is pretty swank. Stats?"


    Her stats didn''t come up. She looked at me.


    "Stats," I said.


    Silver text loading bars flickered into existence above our right wrists.


    | Name: Alec Benoit Foster


    | Age: 23


    | Species & Subtype: Human (Reconstituted)


    | Core Affinity: Reconstitution


    | Level: 1


    | Health: 91/100 | Reconstitution: 0/100


    | Strength: 12


    | Agility: 2


    | Dexterity: 10


    | Vitality: 29


    | Charisma: 7


    | Foresight: 0


    | Intelligence: 35


    | Wisdom: 28


    | Skills: Reconstitution (Inactive), Pack Leader


    | Packmate: Nessy Rex Whitepaw


    | Name: Nessy Rex Whitepaw


    | Species & Subtype: Pradavarian - Husky


    | Core Affinity: Scrutiosmia


    | Level: 1


    | Health: 78/100 | Scrutiosmia: 26/100


    | Strength: 21


    | Agility: 27


    | Dexterity: 23


    | Vitality: 12


    | Charisma: 16


    | Foresight: 28


    | Intelligence: 1


    | Wisdom: 1


    | Skills: Scrutiosmia, Riffweld


    | Packmate: Alec Benoit Foster


    Two new window appeared with silver lines connected to both of our stats.


    | Pack XP: 42/100


    | Pack Quests:


    | Of Calvin the Mini-Mart Archmage : [Make it bloom!]


    | Grow a tree from your first basic reward item.


    "Riffweld?" Nessy giggled, tail wagging excitedly. "That sounds musical! Rrrriffff..." She bark-growled. "Heh, like guitar riffs! And weld... like welding metal! I think I got a music skill for singing to you!"


    "And I got ''Pack Leader,'' hrmm," I observed, somewhat surprised to see our connection officially recognized by the System.


    "See?" Nessy''s tail wagged even harder, her eyes bright with excitement. "I told you we''re a pack! The System agrees!"


    "Uh-huh," I pondered this implication. "So Riffweld helps you write music faster?"


    "Seems like it. Yeh. It''s like... a tune begins to form in my head with chords and beats and all as soon as I think about composing music. Usually it takes way longer."


    "And Pack Leader..." I began.


    "Helps you summon our mutual stats!"


    "That seems inconvenient for you and rather generic for me," I said.


    "It prolly'' makes you better at bossing me around too!" Her tail-wagging intensified.


    "How would that even..."


    "We should experiment!"


    "Riiiiight,¡± I said, trying to redirect the conversation away from inexplicable skill gains and the implications of ''bossing'' Ness harder. ¡°So, where''d you learn bandaging?¡±


    "Told you¡ªmom was a nurse," she replied. "I was always getting banged up as a pup. Too much energy, not enough common sense."


    She finished securing the bandage on my ankle and moved to examine the bite on my shoulder, her nose twitching as she assessed the damage.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "I used to climb everything¡ªtrees, fences, rooftops. Drove my parents crazy," she continued. "Cut myself on all sorts of things. Remember that abandoned house we broke into on 771 Glotchester Street?"


    I did, of course recall exploring it by myself, but didn''t say anything.


    "You freaked out so much when I fell through that rotted floor!" She laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "My leg got sliced up pretty bad on some rusty nails and pointy wood bits. There was blood everywhere, and you were convinced I was gonna die of tetanus right there."


    She licked the bite on my shoulder.


    "But dogs heal faster than people," she added proudly. "Our skin is thicker and more elastic. Mom patched me up, and I was climbing again within days. You were so mad at me for that!"


    She tore off a strip of medical tape with her teeth, the motion so natural it was clear she''d done this countless times before.


    "Plus, mechanics get hurt all the time. You learn to patch people up when you work with heavy machinery and knobs who think safety procedures are just suggestions."


    She moved to other wounds on my arms next, repeating the process¡ªlick, clean, bandage. I found myself studying her face as she worked, the way her brow furrowed in concentration, how her ears pivoted subtly toward any small sound outside.


    "All done," she announced, patting my newly bandaged limbs. "How''s it feeling?"


    "Better," I admitted. "Thanks."


    Several bites marred her own fur, dark patches of crimson staining the black and white. She twisted like a pretzel to lick a particularly nasty bite on her thigh.


    Then she thrust the bandage into my hand. ¡°Bandage.¡±


    I looked at her.


    ¡°I can bandage myself, yes,¡± she said. ¡°But this builds pack trust and you need practice for any future injuries since outside is a friggin'' death trap now.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± I relented, feeling a bit awkward as she submitted her thigh to me, her body too close for comfort.


    As I finished bandaging the thigh, Nessy turned suddenly, her face inches from mine. Before I could react, she leaned forward and licked my cheek¡ªa long, slow stroke from jaw to temple.


    "Erm. What was that for?" I asked, fighting the urge to wipe my face.


    "For being brave," she grinned, her tail wagging with renewed vigor. "You were amazing out there with those nippers. The way you sliced through that alpha? Pure pack-leader material!"


    Her enthusiasm radiated from her in waves. She crowded closer, pressing her forehead against mine in what I was beginning to recognize as a distinctly canine gesture of affection.


    "We make a great team," she continued, voice trembling. "You and me against the world, just like it should be!"


    I pulled back slightly, uncomfortable with her intensity. It wasn''t that her affection felt wrong¡ªit was that it felt unearned. Undeserved.


    "I got lucky with that hit," I said, breaking eye contact. "And you did most of the work with that concrete glove thing."


    "Ehh, I didn''t really damage it permanently, got bogged down, distracted by the process of the fight itself. Also, you gotta stop that," she frowned, tilting her head. "Why do you keep doing that?"


    "Doing what?"


    "Being negative. Deflecting. Dismissing yourself." Her ears flattened slightly. "Every time I try to get close, you pull away."


    I sighed, suddenly exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with our recent battle. "Look, Nessy, I appreciate your... Affectionate enthusiasm. But we''ve known each other for a day and a half."


    "That''s not¡ª"


    "It is true," I interrupted. "For me, at least. And I''m sorry, but I''m not the Alec you knew. I''m not your pack leader or your childhood friend or whatever else you remember."


    "The System says you''re my pack leader." Her eyes narrowed, something flashing behind them that might have been hurt or anger or both. "And you smell like him. You look like him. You even fight like him¡ªall calculation and last-minute recklessness."


    "But I''m not him," I insisted. "And what happens if¡ªwhen¡ªyou find your actual Alec? The one who knows all your shared history, who remembers the promises you made?"


    She flinched as if I''d struck her. "What are you saying?"


    "I''m saying that I don''t want to be your temporary replacement Alec," I said, the words spilling out before I could stop them. "Your consolation prize until the real thing comes along."


    "That''s not what you are to me."


    "Isn''t it? Because from where I''m standing, you''ve spent every moment since we met trying to force me into someone else''s shoes, basing affection and pre-existing trust on things I never did.¡±


    The silence that followed was deafening. Nessy''s tail had gone completely still, her ears flattening.


    "I don''t understand," she finally said with a whine. "What am I doing wrong?"


    I recognized her expression, the desperate need for validation, for connection¡ªit mirrored how I felt when my parents had chosen my brother over me.


    "You didn''t do anything wrong," I sighed, rubbing my temples. "It''s not about you, Ness. It''s about me not being able to trust people in general. I never had anyone in my life who didn''t fuck me over in the end.¡±


    Nessy''s dire look softened.


    "I don''t know if I can be what you need," I continued. "I don''t know if I can be an alpha, a pack leader, a protector. For one, I never considered myself as a leader or a follower. I''ve been keeping mostly to myself in school and university. None of my relationships worked out. Every girl I dated peaced out after like a week or two.¡±


    ¡°I might have maybe worded things a bit wrong,¡± she said, tilting her head. ¡°A syn-pack isn''t a thing where you just boss me as an alpha leader, it''s a partnership between man and dog. It''s about trust and understanding and cooperation.¡±


    I sighed wearily.


    ¡°Relax, you''re still learning,¡± She reached out slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal. "I''m not expecting absolute perfection from you," she said softly, pawing at my face softly. "We can figure it out¡­ together."


    I wanted to believe her. Wanted to surrender to the comfort she offered so freely. But years of disappointment and abandonment had built walls around my heart that couldn''t be dismantled in a day, even by someone as persistent as Nessy.


    ¡°I''d never betray you,¡± she reached out and hugged me, nuzzling against my face. ¡°Never ever. You know that¡­ right?¡±


    ¡°And if we encounter another Alec in this... interdimensional patchwork world? One that remembers your life together, one that''s better than me at everything. What then, Miss doggo?¡±


    Nessy''s eyes widened at my question, her pupils dilating slightly. The husky-girl''s pointed ears flattened again, and I watched something shift in her expression¨Ca ripple of confusion, then hurt quickly followed by fierce determination. Her grip on me tightened.


    ¡°There was only one path for me to follow via Scrutiosmia,¡± she growled. ¡°Just one. Towards you. Not infinity paths, not two diverging roads, or ten. I did sniff things that were sort of you-ish, but not exactly right, different. If there was another Alec out there, I would know. There isn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°But what if one appears in the future?¡± I pressed on.


    ¡°Aleeeec,¡± she whined. ¡°I¡¯m a simple doggo. Stop tormenting me with these ridiculous philosophical questions. Right now I¡¯m imprinted on you and I¡¯m not bloody going anywhere. If another Alec twin or your clone appears from thin air, I¡¯d obviously choose you because I can smell myself all over you. I¡¯ve already made my choice and I¡¯m sticking with it and will stand by your side as your dog until I¡¯m dead.¡±


    The paranoid part of my brain immediately started to dig for any cracks in her argument, any weakness in her loyalty that might prove me right, trying to sabotage this connection before it had a chance to disappoint me, just as everyone else had. Every fleeting relationship I had¡ªthey''d all taught me the same lesson: attachment leads to abandonment and a stabbing in the back.


    "I''m not worthy of your devotion," I muttered, not finding a solid enough argument. "You barely know me. I barely know you.¡±


    "Okay, fine, maybe I don''t know everything about you yet," she fired back, "but I saw how fought for me against those damned nippers when you could have run. I saw that ¡®breathe into a bag¡¯ system message too, you know. I know you smell like kindness beneath all that fear and doubt. You showed me care when you washed entropic dirt off me and bandaged my wounds, even when you''re pretending not to care like a knob now.¡±


    I squinted at her.


    Yeah I¡¯ve got nothing. Way too tired to argue.


    ¡°This is fine,¡± she added, licking and quickly binding the rest of her smaller wounds. ¡°I¡¯ll whine a bit, but I''ll accept your dumb reservations. I''ll simply work extra-hard on earning your trust the hard way, grind you down like a river assaulting a mountain till you submit to my doggored powers. As long as I can be by your side, I¡¯m happy.¡±


    Damn you, persistent, fluffy creature.


    "All bandaged up? We should plant that sandwich," I commented. "Before the concrete expires."


    ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± she huffed, gave me another quick lick on the cheek and then let go of me, swatting me with her fluffy tail.


    Humming another rune under her breath, she retrieved the bucket of concrete from where we''d left it by the door.


    ¡°Do you have a living lamp or is there a quest-in-the-quest for us to find one?¡± I asked Calvin who was lounging in an unfolded camping chair in front of the door and sketching out eyes on his yellow sticky note pad.


    ¡°You know where the living lamps are,¡± he said. ¡°You got stung by em.¡±


    ¡°So you want us to catch¡­ bulbees?¡±


    ¡°Yep.¡±


    ¡°By walking all the way back across that whacked out mall full of insane growing shit that might come alive at anytime and eat us?¡±


    ¡°Nah. Grab a glass jar from aisle 3. You don''t need to go anywhere when you know what the bulbees want.¡±


    ¡°What do they want?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The bulbees are attracted to flowers on electric screens that radiate bright positive vibes.¡±


    ¡°Vibes?¡± I stared at the tinfoil-hatted man. ¡°Seriously?¡±


    ¡°Hey I don¡¯t make the rules,¡± the-System-tagged Archmage of the Mini-Mart shrugged. ¡°I just¡­ see and hear things when I walk around the area.¡±


    "Where do we find these... flowers?" I demanded.


    "Be creative," he said, waving us off.


    I continued to stare at Calvin, frustration mounting. Cryptic advice was beginning to feel like this guru''s specialty. I rotated and headed to the isle in question.


    "Glass jars," I muttered. "At least that part was straightforward."


    Nessy followed me, her claws clicking softly against the linoleum. The shelves in aisle 3 were mostly bare, but a few mason jars remained, their glass surfaces collecting dust. I grabbed the largest one, turning it in my hands.

 11: Positive Vibes

    "Electric flowers that radiate positive vibes," Nessy mused, her tail swishing thoughtfully. ¡°Hrmmm.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you happen to smell anything like that nearby?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Nope,¡± she shook her head. ¡°I mean, I can try to sniff that specific thing out, but it¡¯ll probably burn through my remaining Scrutiosmia and then we¡¯ll be completely defenseless. Plus I don''t want to go out there and get caught up in another fight.¡±


    We retreated to a quiet corner by the freezer section, sitting cross-legged on the floor. The jar sat between us, empty and waiting.


    "Okay," I said, trying to approach this logically. "Electric flowers. Something that blooms, produces light, and gives off... good feelings? Happy energy?"


    Nessy''s ears perked up. "What about See-Mass lights people hang up during holidays? They''re electric, colorful, and they make people happy."


    "Maybe," I said, considering it. "But where would we find working Christmas lights in this mess? And would they even count as flowers?"


    Nessy''s nose twitched as she thought. "What about those lamps that look like lotus flowers? My neighbor had one¡ªit changed colors and rotated. Super relaxing."


    "Again, where do we find one?" I sighed, leaning back against the somehow functional freezer door. The cold seeped through my shirt, a small reminder of the past where everything wasn''t screwy.


    We fell silent, the reality of our situation settling around us like dust. Here we were, bandaged and exhausted, trying to figure out how to catch glowing insect-like creatures to help plant a moldy sandwich in magical concrete. The absurdity of it might have been funny if our lives didn''t depend on it.


    "What if..." Nessy began slowly, her eyes lighting up. "What if we make one?"


    "Make a flower?"


    "Yeah!" She bounced slightly, her enthusiasm returning. "Like, an origami flower or something, but with light. Didn''t Calvin say intent matters more than technique? Maybe we could fold paper into a flower shape and... I don''t know, infuse it with happy thoughts?"


    ¡°But with light¡­ electric light,¡± I pondered. ¡°How would we light it up¡­ maybe put your phone under it or something? Wait¡­ what if we just took a photo of a flower? A flower on a phone screen is technically an electric flower.¡±


    ¡°Yes! That¡¯s perfect!¡± Nessy clapped. ¡°You''re so clever!¡±


    ¡°But that excludes vibes¡­ where does one find happy vibes?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Music festivals, restaurants, beach parties, theme parks,¡± Nessy mused. ¡°People produce vibes.¡±


    ¡°Pretty sure none of those exist right now,¡± I said.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± she frowned. ¡°Dang it. Wait¡­. But what if we generated our own happy vibes and just¡­ took some selfies of you and me?¡±


    I stared at her. Could the solution really be this simple?


    ¡°There were scented kids markers in our ¡®room¡¯,¡± I said. ¡°We can draw some flowers on paper and¡­ take selfies with them?¡±


    ¡°Nah. I¡¯ll draw flowers on your face and lick them off,¡± she said. ¡°Happy vibes!¡±


    ¡°Is this just an excuse to lick my face?¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes it is, how very observant of you.¡±


    ¡°And what if I won¡¯t radiate enough ¡®positive vibes¡¯ for the selfie?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Eh, I¡¯ll radiate enough happy vibes for both of us,¡± she said with absolute certainty. ¡°Trust me. I¡¯m vibing extra-hard just thinking about it.¡±


    ¡°Uhh.¡± I looked at her and noticed that her tail was wagging like helicopter blades, vibrating her entire figure. ¡°Right then. Go get the markers. I¡¯ll be here¡­ definitely not vibing or whatever.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± she laughed and vanished with a swish of black and white tail and tapping claws.


    She returned at the speed of the wind, nearly crashing into me, hands filled with thick markers.


    "Ready for your makeover?" she grinned, uncapping a purple marker with her teeth. The scent of artificial grape filled the air between us.


    "As ready as I''ll ever be," I replied, momentarily closing my eyes with resignation.


    Her paw steadied my face, the soft pads of her fingers pressing gently against my jaw. The marker''s tip was cool and wet against my skin as she began to draw. I could feel her breath, warm and rhythmic, as she concentrated on her work.


    There was something extra-intimate about this moment¡ªher face inches from mine, her attention focused entirely on me, her panting breath washing over me in waves from running so fast to fetch the markers.


    "S'' lookin'' good," she murmured, switching to another marker. This one smelled like synthetic strawberries, sickeningly sweet but not entirely unpleasant. "You''re being very patient. Good boy."


    I opened one eye, staring at her. "Did you just ''good boy'' me?"


    Her eyes and cheeky grin struck me as her flower-drawing faltered for just a second. She grinned, her canines flashing in the dim light. "Maybe! Hold still."


    I held still, surrendering to Nessy''s artistic endeavors. Her tongue poked out slightly from the corner of her mouth as she concentrated, the tip of her dark nose twitching with each stroke of the marker, decorating my entire face with flower art that would hopefully be enough to attract the bulbees.


    "Almost..." she murmured, switching to a blue marker that smelled vaguely of blueberry candy. "Just need to add some highlights..."


    "There!" she announced triumphantly, capping the marker and leaning back to admire her handiwork. "Done! You look positively garden-worthy!"


    She pulled out her phone, which inexplicably still worked despite its battery being permanently at zero percent. "Selfie time! Try to look happy. Or at least less miserable than usual!"


    "I don''t look miserable," I protested.


    "No, you have a ''perpetually preparing for disappointment'' face," she replied, positioning her phone at what she clearly thought was the optimal angle. "It''s very cute in a sad puppy way, but not great for positive vibes."


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Before I could formulate a response, she was pressed against me, her arm wrapping around my shoulders as she held the phone aloft in front of us. Her fur tickled my neck, soft and still slightly damp.


    "Say ''squirrel'' or whatever makes you smile!" she instructed, her tail thumping against the linoleum floor with excitement.


    "Sandwich," I deadpanned, which earned me a snort of laughter.


    The camera clicked, capturing what I assumed was my flower-decorated face next to her grinning muzzle. She immediately checked the result, her ears swiveling forward with interest.


    "Hmm, not vibey enough," she declared, scrolling through the phone''s features. "Let''s try with filters. Oh! This one adds actual flower animations!"


    She set the camera on video and multi burst selfie mode and snuggled closer, her weight shifting until she was practically in my lap, her tail now brushing against my arm with each enthusiastic wag. I could feel her heart beating against my chest, rapid and strong, a drumbeat of pure canine excitement.


    "Ready? One, two¡ª" Without warning, she licked the side of my face, a long, slow swipe from jaw to temple that left my skin damp and tingling.


    ¡°Ugh, bleh, these taste terrible,¡± she sputtered, sticking her tongue out. I chortled. The phone kept recording and taking selfies. ¡°Ugh whatever.¡±


    She proceeded to lick me, making bothered faces and commenting about the sniff-marker betrayal which made me giggle and then outright explode into laughter, which made her laugh in turn.


    ¡°Yass, these are def¡¯ vibacious vibes!¡± She commented, licking and wincing.


    ¡°Vibacious isn¡¯t a word,¡± I laughed. ¡°Why are you still licking if you don¡¯t like the taste?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not deviating from the five-year-licking plan when minor flavor complications come up!¡± She fired back, laughing so hard that tears sparked in her eyes. "Let''s take more! Different angles! Different expressions! Maximum vibage!"


    What followed was a barrage of selfies, each more ridiculous than the last. Nessy seemed to have an endless repertoire of ideas for poses and expressions, from solemn to silly, from regal to outright ridiculous. And with each new photo, she found a way to invade my personal space in increasingly creative ways.


    She draped herself across my shoulders like a living fur stole.


    She stood behind me with her paws on top of my head, making bunny ears.


    At one point, she even convinced me to hold her up as if she were crowd-surfing, her arms spread wide in triumph while I struggled not to drop her and secretly marveled at how light she was despite her size.


    Between shots, she hummed something about ¡°zoom, zoom... pack vibes¡­ strongest in the land</a>¡± under her breath and licked at the marker drawings on my face, claiming she was "refreshing the canvas" but really just indulging her apparent need to groom me at every opportunity.


    "We done yet?" I asked. "Surely we have enough ''vibes'' captured by now."


    Nessy scrolled through the collection, her ears perking at certain images. "Almost... We need one more. The ultimate vibe!" She flopped onto her back beside me, patting the floor. "Lie down. I want to recreate that famous scene from that movie¡­¡±


    ¡°What movie? Titanic?¡±


    "No, no, the one where they''re looking up at the sky, thinking about how small they are compared to the universe."


    I had no idea what movie she was referring to, but I found myself lying down beside her anyway, staring up at the stained ceiling of Calvin''s Mini-Mart covered in drawings of marker-colored, violet-iris eyes.


    Nessy wiggled closer until her shoulder pressed against mine, her fur tickling my arm. She held the phone above us, adjusting the angle carefully. "Now, look thoughtful but hopeful. Like you''re contemplating the vastness of existence but also thinking about maybe getting ice cream later."


    "That''s... oddly specific," I said, but tried to comply, focusing on the eyes staring back at me from above with unnerving intensity.


    Violet eyes. So many violet eyes, a spiral, a constellation of them, a galaxy of violet, twinkling stars.


    "Perfect," she murmured. Her free hand found mine, warm fur against my skin, her claws carefully retracted. Her nose booped my cheek. "I''m really glad I found you, Alec."


    The simple sincerity in her voice caught me off guard. I turned my head slightly to look at her, finding her blue eyes already watching me, glowing slightly. For once, she wasn''t bouncing or fidgeting or talking a mile a minute. She was just... present. With me.


    The camera clicked above us, capturing the moment.


    "That''s the one," she said softly, looking at the photo. ¡°Perfect.¡±


    It wasn''t perfect¡ªmy face was still covered in smudged marker flowers, her fur was sticking up in random directions, but there was something about our overall poses and expressions, the way we were looking at each other rather than the camera, that felt real. Genuine. Maybe even vibe-y.


    "Yeah," I agreed, a strange tightness in my throat. "That''s nice.¡±


    ¡°The nicest!¡± She sat up suddenly, her mood shifting back to excited determination. "Now let''s see if these selfies can attract some bulbees!"


    Retrieving the glass jar, Nessy pried open a window. She set the screen displaying our floral-themed selfie collection in a continuous slideshow. Then she got some duct tape from a shelf and taped her phone to the base of the jar.


    She placed the phone-jar onto the outside concrete ledge.


    The colors flashed and changed, the digitally added flowers blooming and fading in endless cycles across the selfie slideshow lighting up the jar.


    I looked up at the darkening sky. It looked like a wall of gargantuan, black storm clouds was rolling towards us across the city, flashing with violet streaks of lightning that left off-color rainbow imprints in my eyes.


    ¡°Looks like Celestorm is ¡®bout to get here,¡± Calvin said from behind us, almost making me jump. ¡°Good timing. Get the bees and head to the garden.¡±


    ¡°If this insanity works,¡± I commented.


    ¡°It will,¡± Nessy said, looking at something in the distance. She was still humming "Pack vibes... Unbreakable bond!" under her breath.


    We didn''t have to wait long. Within minutes, a faint buzzing sound drew our attention to the rapidly dimming street, where a small cluster of light began to form¡ªa glowing, pulsing orb that seemed to solidify as it approached. Then another appeared, and another, materializing from the gloom like tiny stars emerging at twilight.


    Bulbees.


    They drifted toward our makeshift flower beacon, their crystalline wings catching the light, bodies pulsing with internal electricity. Unlike the ones that had attacked us earlier, these seemed calmer, more curious than aggressive. One approached the jar, hovering above the phone''s screen, its light dimming and brightening in time with the changing images.


    "They''re responding to the pictures," Nessy whispered, her voice hushed with wonder. "Look, they''re changing their colors."


    She was right. As the slideshow cycled through our various selfies, the bulbees shifted their illumination to complement the hues displayed on the screen. When a photo with predominantly blue filter appeared, they glowed a soft amber. When pink dominated, they shimmered with emerald light.


    "It''s like they''re... completing the spectrum," I murmured.


    One particularly bold, chonky bulbee descended into the jar, settling atop the phone. Others followed, drawn to the vibrant selfies and possibly to each other. Their collective light grew stronger, filling the jar with a swirling aurora of color.


    Moving with exaggerated slowness, Nessy reached for the jar''s lid. The bulbees showed no sign of alarm, seemingly entranced by our images. With one smooth motion, she sealed the jar, capturing seven of the electric insects inside.


    ¡°Well done,¡± Calvin commented. ¡°You''ve created something new¡ªnot just electric flowers, but a conceptual reflection of your bond. Clever. Very clever indeed.¡±


    ¡°Eeeeee,¡± Nessy squeed, holding up the jar. ¡°Look, look! They''re so chonk and cute when they¡¯re not stinging me!¡±


    Like a miniature lightning storm captured in glass, the bulbees swirled and pulsed, painting the inside of the jar with ever-changing patterns of light. Their earlier hostility seemed forgotten, replaced by what almost looked like playfulness as they darted around each other like electrons circling atoms.


    She handed me the phone and the jar, her face alight with pure wonder.


    ¡°Hurry now! Bring your drawing of Nessy, the concrete bucket, the sandwich, and your luminous friends to the back garden. It''s time to create new life!¡± Calvin declared loudly, sending Nessy into motion.


    Celestorm thunder rattled across the city beyond the small Mini-Mart we were occupying. It didn¡¯t sound like regular thunder, more like a symphony of alien whales crying through the sky. The broiling, dark shawl engulfed the world horizon to horizon, the clouds twisting into inverted, tornado-like swirls.


    The clock on Nessie¡¯s phone went berserk as if the phone was being flown through twenty time zones at the same time.


    The [0%] battery stat momentarily flashed with [¡Þ%], sending a cold, eerie shiver down my spine.

 12: Celestorm

    "Go!" Calvin opened the back door for us.


    A gale blew from out of the doorway. It wasn''t cold as one would expect. It felt wrong.


    "Ugh," the husky-girl shuddered. "That''s going to blow all sorts of questionable dust into my fur again."


    She grabbed the "Welcome To Lake Winnipesaukee" shirt off the shelf, pulling it atop of the tank top.


    We quickly emerged out of the building.


    The back of the Mini-Mart featured what must have once been an employee smoking area¡ªa wide concrete patio surrounded by a chain-link fence. But whatever mundane purpose it had served was now lost beneath Calvin''s "garden"¡ªthough calling it a garden was like calling a hurricane a light breeze.


    Plants¡ªif they could even be called that¡ªgrew in chaotic profusion throughout the space. Vegetables that resembled office supplies sprouted from the cracked concrete, their leaves formed from what looked like shredded tax documents or computer keys. A cluster of ¡®tomatoes¡¯ hung heavy from a vine, each fruit made from rust-red clockwork containing a wristwatch or compass spinning in its center.


    In one corner, a tree had grown from what appeared to be an old microwave, its branches formed from copper wiring that flowered into tiny light bulbs. Each time the wind blew, the bulbs clinked against each other, producing a sound like distant wind chimes.


    Calvin gestured to an empty patch of earth near the center of the garden, where the concrete had been broken away to reveal dark, brown, rich soil beneath. "There," he said simply. "That''s where Sandwichu will bloom.¡±


    Above us, the Celestorm gathered strength, the sky transformed into a churning maelstrom of black and violet spirals. Lightning flashed, not in mere jagged bolts but also in alien, fractal patterns that seemed to write themselves across the clouds.


    Each flash lasted just long enough to burn an afterimage on my retinas, leaving me with fragments of unnervingly deep meaning that dissolved before I could grasp it.


    "The storm that re-writes existence," Calvin explained, noting my upward gaze. "It takes dreams and nightmares and wishes and fears, and inks them onto reality''s canvas as brief echoes, the lightning striking areas of high Syntropy.¡±


    A particularly bright flash illuminated the garden, casting everything in a sickly purple glow. In that instant, I saw things moving at the edges of the fence¡ªformless, transparent things that seemed to shift between states of being, never quite settling on a definite shape.


    "What the fuck are those?" I yelped, my voice sounding reedy against the raging sky.


    "Echoes," Calvin replied from the doorway, his tone casual, as if discussing the weather. "The storm renders them visible sometimes. Best not to look directly at them."


    Nessy had already begun digging at the spot Calvin indicated, her clawed hands moving with inhuman efficiency, rapidly displacing soil around a deepening hole.


    ¡°If you¡¯re gonna stand there uselessly, at least be a good digging supervisor,¡± she growled at me, ears tilting back as the sky thundered.


    ¡°How?¡± I asked, trying not to stare at the slowly solidifying echoes.


    ¡°By providing verbal encouragement and occasional head pats,¡± she fired back.


    ¡°Good doggo,¡± I patted her head.


    She plowed harder into the earth.


    Keeling beside her, I glanced at the orange bucket. The concrete inside had grown thicker, more sluggish, its surface dimming from the vibrant iridescence it had displayed earlier to a dull, leaden gray.


    I blinked at it.


    [HP: 4%]


    "I think it''s dying," I said quietly.


    ¡°Yea, no shit,¡± Nessy growled, unwrapping the now tinfoil wrapped sandwich with her teeth and claws.


    Freakish blue and green mold was practically engulfing the expired sandwich now, expanding from the bite area like a tiny forest, blossoming mycelium swaying left and right.


    The bite mark itself seemed larger, more wrong, deeper somehow, as if something extradimensional had been nibbling at it while we weren''t looking.


    ¡°Holy crap,¡± Nessy dropped the sandwich into the hole with a yelp of shock. ¡°Slayer Nazareth! I almost ate you yesterday!¡±


    She kicked the orange bucket over the hole with her digitrade foot, the life-crete pouring out to engulf the eldritch sandwich in its embrace.


    ¡°Add the drawing!¡± Calvin advised.


    I ripped the sketch of Nessy from the book and placed it into the concrete-life-fluid, watching it sinking in.


    The husky-girl grabbed the earth pile with both of her hands and covered the hole.


    I quickly placed the jar of bulbees sideways at the base of the mound. Inside, the tiny creatures had arranged themselves in a loose circle, their lights pulsing in a synchronized rhythm that matched the distant thunder of the Celestorm. Nessy''s phone continued to display our selfies from the side, creating a layered illumination that painted the fresh soil with overlapping patterns of light and shadow.


    At the back door, Calvin stood watching, his silver-blue eyes now ringed with concentric circles of violet light that matched the storm above. His hands were raised slightly at his sides, palms facing outward as if conducting an invisible orchestra. The tiny paper eyes adorning his clothing seemed to be turned to face in the same direction¡ªtoward our freshly planted sandwich.


    ¡°Now what?¡± I yelled at him.


    "It''s not enough," he called over the rising wind. "The life-crete hardened too much. It¡­ needs to soften to bloom. Connection. Intent. Purpose." He paused. "It needs¡­ passion... Music!¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I yelled, glancing at the freakish ghosts gradually advancing towards us.


    They looked like hollowed out people. People I knew. People who betrayed me. My brother. My parents. Kids from Fergus. My ex-girlfriends. The four cartel men who killed me.


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    The fear-shapes pressed closer, becoming more solid with each flash of storm-light. I could feel their cold presence against my skin, hear their whispers in my ears¡ªpromises, reminders of worthlessness, all the insecurities and traumas of my life given form and voice.


    Without thinking, I stepped forward, placing myself between Nessy and the encroaching nightmares. My stop sign felt heavy in my hands, but I raised it anyway, a barrier between her and the ghosts of my past.


    "Sing to your tree!" Calvin urged, his voice rising with the wind. "Give it something to grow toward, something to become!"


    Before I could process this bizarre instruction, Nessy''s head tilted back and drew in a deep breath.


    When she howled at the burning sky and began to sing, the sound that emerged was nothing like I expected¡ªnot the playful tune she had hummed earlier, but something deeper, more primal.


    ¡°From dust and concrete</a>, from hope and pain,


    I call you forth to life again.


    Born from devotion, shaped by my song,


    Root deep in earth where you belong!


    Through broken worlds and shattered skies,


    From death to life, please now arise!


    Through Systemfall that shatters, merges and blends,


    I found him, my pack, my anchor, my best friend!¡±


    Her blue eyes flashed at me.


    ¡°I sing for connection, for trust yet to bloom,


    For light after darkness, for life after doom.


    From sandwich and concrete, from memory and grief,


    Grow strong, little seedling, grow hope, grow belief!¡±


    Thunder detonated above us like a deafening, double gunshot. The eye of the storm was now directly above us, lightning unnaturally dancing across the supermassive cloud spiral.


    ¡°By fang and claw, by hope and fear,


    I bind you to my packmate dear!¡±


    She sang.


    ¡°Keep the echoes away from her, Sir Alec!¡± Calvin yelled.


    Her eyes met mine briefly, widening as she finally noticed the shapes surrounding us, but her voice never faltered. Instead, it grew stronger, more defiant.I swatted at the nearest advancing ghost with the stop sign, obliterating it into silver wisps.


    ¡°Protect him, guide him, stand by his side,


    As I will do until my¡­ death!¡±


    Nessie howled loudly into the storm. I slashed at two more echoes that tried to claw at Nessie.


    ¡°So grow now, our seedling, reach high, reach wide,


    With concrete for strength and my devotion as your guide.


    In this system-born world where nothing stays true,


    Remember this connection¡ªme holding onto you!¡±


    Her voice rose another octave.


    ¡°So grow now, bloom now, rise to the sky,


    As steady and true as our pack-bond tie.


    In storm, in calm, in night, in day,


    By your side I''ll always stay!


    Tears streamed down her fur as she sang, but her voice never wavered. I panted as the echoes increased in number... then twisted, fused into centipede-like humanoid shapes.


    As the final note of her song faded, a flash of violet lightning struck directly above us. For an instant, everything was illuminated in harsh, unnatural light. I saw Calvin''s form briefly superimposed with countless other versions of himself¨Csome with two heads, some with none, some with wings, some with roots instead of feet¨Call existing simultaneously in the same space. His hair rushed through a thousand different colors from black to white, eyes brilliant green, then brown, then blue, then pure violet.


    I saw Nessy''s outline shimmer and shift, momentarily revealing her as both the humanoid dog-woman kneeling beside me and as an ordinary husky, standing on four legs with her head thrown back in a howl. Both real, both her, both existing in the same moment. Then she shifted to a dragon girl with rainbow wings, then a girl in a construction vest with pure white hair, then a girl with hair made from rubies.


    My own hands shifted and twisted, rushing through a thousand textures.


    The jar with the bulbees cracked and shattered, the insects scattering from within into all directions. Nessy grabbed her phone, pulling it away and leaping back just as blinding lightning struck from overhead into the remnants of the jar, liquefying and melting the glass.


    Then the glass formed delicate tendrils reaching out across the imprint of the lightning which somehow hung in the air, gradually fading away. The melted glass formed not quite roots, not quite branches, but something in between. They were the color of moonlight on water, semi-transparent and luminous. They grew rapidly, twisting and turning, reaching up and down, entwining with something deep below.


    Branches unfurled from it, each one bearing small, glowing leaves shaped like tiny, crystalline hands. Flowery petals bloomed then seeds formed within their innards.


    The Sandwichu Tree had bloomed.


    It bore... small sandwiches.


    Nessy made a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh, her paws reaching out to gently touch one of the lower branches. The tree responded, the branch curving slightly to meet her touch, as if recognizing her.


    "It''s beautiful," she whispered.


    I froze, captivated by the surreal sight of Nessy prying a small triangle of salmon sandwich off a small, transparent branch and stuffing it into her mouth.


    Gunfire rang through the air.


    <div>


    <div>


    The bullet cut radial circles through the air, tearing through the echoes and shearing them into silvery mist. Something monstrous howled behind the fence with an impossibly deep hum that vibrated through my bones, rattling my teeth and churning my stomach.


    I turned just as the fence buckled outward, metal links stretching and snapping like they were made of taffy. The creature emerged from the darkness beyond¡ªa gargantuan lynx made of rusted metal rebar and crane parts. Hundreds of holes covered its massive head, giving it the appearance of a feline colander. Bits and pieces of rusted junk covered its body like armored plates, shifting and grinding with each movement in a cacophony of metallic protest.


    Its eyes¡ªhollow sockets filled with whirling magnetic fields¡ªlocked onto us.


    "IN! DIG THE TREE OUT AND GET INSIDE!" Calvin yelled, firing again at the massive metal creature. The bullet ricocheted off its armored hide with a high-pitched whine, leaving not even a dent.


    The gun was suddenly ripped from his hand as if yanked by an invisible thread. The fence followed, peeling away in strips. Everything metal in our vicinity flew toward a dark, gargantuan magnet embedded in the hollow beast''s chest¡ªa spinning vortex of ferrous hunger that pulled with relentless force.


    My stop sign tore from my fingers, slicing a deep gash across my palm as it went. Pain flared white-hot, blood welling instantly to spill between my fingers and drip onto the concrete.


    A metal nail embedded in the ground flew up, cutting a line across my cheek. A sharp. small, metal something, punctured through the side of my stomach and digging deep in, making me cry out.


    [HP: 67%]


    Nessy dug into the earth with desperate, clawed hands, her movements a blur of panicked efficiency. She exhumed the little Sandwichu Tree, its delicate glass branches tinkling like wind chimes as she roughly shoved it into the orange bucket.


    "RUN!" I grabbed her arm with my uninjured hand, pulling her toward the back door where Calvin stood, waving frantically.


    We sprinted across the broken ground, ducking as a mailbox flew over our heads, sucked toward the magnetic beast. The creature''s massive paws¡ªeach the size of a small car¡ªbegan to advance, rebar claws gouging deep furrows in the concrete with each step.


    We tumbled through the door, collapsing onto the linoleum floor as Calvin slammed it shut behind us. The sound of the lock engaging seemed laughably inadequate against what waited outside.


    The junkyard-magnet beast howled, a sound like metal being torn apart by industrial machinery. Through the small window in the door, I could see the Celestorm flashing overhead, illuminating the creature in stark, violet relief.


    "Fukfuckfuckkk," Nessy trembled beside me, clutching the bucket containing our fragile tree to her chest. Her ears were flattened against her skull, her pupils dilated with terror. "It... it''s followed me here!"


    "What do you mean it followed you?" I demanded, pressing my bleeding hand against my shirt, trying to stem the flow.


    "The magnetic lynx," she uttered, eyes wide and haunted. "The one that stole my guns. It''s been hunting me ever since. I thought... I thought I lost it days ago!"


    "M''yes," Calvin said. "A dire-magnet-beast. My domain won''t hold out against her for very long."


    "What?" I spun towards him, my eyes wide.


    Metal shelves around us groaned. A can flew through the air, nearly decapitating me. It slammed against the wall and then wobbled across the wall, wiggling and wobbling and crawling up along with a hundred other metal things.

 13: Escape

    The building shuddered as something massive slammed against the outer wall. Dust and small fragments of ceiling tile rained down on us. The lights flickered, threatening to plunge us into darkness.


    A wrench flew through the air, smashing against the wall. It too crawled upward, joined by dozens of other metal objects all scrambling toward some unseen point like insects to a flame.


    Nessy stuffed one of the small sandwiches from the tree into my mouth. "Eat!"


    "Wha¡ªwhy?!" I sputtered, but instinctively chewed the morsel, hunger overriding my confusion. The sandwich tasted oddly sweet, like bread infused with honey and something else¡­ filling like eggs and salmon?


    Warmth blossomed in my chest, not the warmth of a space heater, but the warmth of the ¡®vibes¡¯ when I stared into Nessy¡¯s eyes beneath the drawn violet constellation of the Mini-Mart¡¯s manager.


    Silver text flashed inside my eyes:


    [Reconstitution: 7%]


    The numbers flickered down, shifting as the energy diverted to my most pressing injury:


    [Reconstitution: 0% | Hp: 74%]


    The pain in my stomach subsided as the metal shard worked its way out of my flesh, dropping to the floor with a soft clink. I stared at the wound in my sliced shirt, watching it knitting together.


    The building shook violently, a deep, structural groan emanating from its foundations. The lights winked out, plunging us into darkness broken only by the violet flashes of the Celestorm outside. A massive crack spiderwebbed across the ceiling, raining dust, ceiling panels and debris onto our heads. Windows cracked and shattered, a chorus of breaking glass accompanying the magnetic creature''s rage as it moved around the smaller shop.


    "This way," Calvin barked, gesturing for us to follow. "Quickly!"


    We scrambled after him, dodging falling shelves and flying metal objects that flew and smashed into whichever wall the magnetic beast moved at.


    Calvin led us to his office, the space now in disarray¡ªsticky notes peeling from the walls, his carefully arranged artifacts tumbling from their places. He threw open a closet door, revealing a concrete wall upon which a simple door had been drawn in pink chalk.


    I stared at the crude drawing, not sure what was happening and how this would help us get away. The situation seems hopeless.


    A circle with a symbol shaped like a snowflake was drawn in the same pink chalk on the floor.


    "Stand in the circle and think of where you want to go!" Calvin urged, his expression wild beneath his tinfoil hat. "The door will take you there... or about there... Give or take a few meters¡­ So picture an open space where landing won''t hurt too bad. Hurry now!"


    "Home!" Nessy yelped beside me, her voice cracking with fear and hope. "Think of home! Of Ferguson! Ferguson quarry!!!"


    A distant memory surfaced.


    A beach of glass stones, cold, sky-blue clear water, my last summer there, three years ago when my grandfather died and left me his old, broken RV permanently parked in his yard filled with a mountain of wood palettes and random junk.


    Me standing at the edge of the quarry next to the blocky limestone park ranger building looking at the view of the picturesque Ferguson valley below. A dark purple, black and emerald-colored starling singing at me from the trees.


    Calvin somehow reached into the wall and grabbed the drawn handle and pulled. Reality twisted and wobbled like heat rising from summer pavement.


    More cracks rushed across the office ceiling behind us, sticky note eyes raining down like autumn leaves. The deep, unnerving howl of the magnet-lynx reverberated through the air, a physical force that made my bones ache.


    People had iron inside them, I recalled. Not enough to be pulled into the beast''s chest cavity, but enough to feel the abomination¡¯s roar.


    The chalk door swung open, revealing nothing behind it. Pure, impossible nothing¡ªor perhaps everything, collapsed into a single point, a void that was somehow neither black nor white nor any color at all.


    "The fuck is that?" I cried, instinctively recoiling.


    "Nullspace," Calvin replied. ¡°The nowhere-everywhere door! Your way home!¡±


    "And you?" Nessy asked, her ears flat, the orange bucket containing our fragile tree clutched protectively against her chest.


    "That magnet cat hunts you, lovely dog Lady, it is not after me," Calvin shook his head. "The beast will stop assaulting my domain once you are gone."


    The building gave another violent lurch. Part of the ceiling collapsed in the main store, the crash followed by an irate metallic roar.


    Nessy''s free hand found mine, claws pressing lightly into my skin.


    "Thank you," she said to Calvin. ¡°For¡­ everything. For a safe night and for being our Sensei.¡±


    He nodded, a strange smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Plant your tree somewhere safe. Watch it grow. Love it and water it and feast on its fruit and it will help you bloom and prosper!¡±


    The office door splintered and cracked behind him, struck by a metal shelf.


    "GO!" Calvin roared. ¡°Now! Before my ward is breached!¡±


    We didn''t hesitate. Hand in hand, we leaped through the doorway curtain made from rippling un-rainbows, leaving Calvin and his domain behind.


    The sensation of passing through the doorway was like being simultaneously crushed and stretched, compressed and expanded. My consciousness fractured, each piece experiencing a different reality before being violently snapped back together.


    I saw flickers of places¡ªa hollow city of glass spires; a wasteland where massive, dead birds picked through the wreckage of civilization; a suburban street where identical houses stretched to infinity, each one containing the exact same family performing the exact same actions in perfect, nightmarish synchronization.


    Then darkness. Complete and enveloping.


    I was still clutching Nessy''s hand, her presence the only real thing in the void. I could feel her pulse against my palm, rapid but strong.


    We fell forever. We didn''t move at all. Both truths existed simultaneously in the impossible space between realities.


    Then light¡ªblinding, painful after the darkness. The sensation of falling became real, air rushing past as gravity reclaimed us. We hit water with a stunning impact, cold enveloping us as we plunged beneath the surface.


    The shock of it drove the air from my lungs. For one terrible moment, I was back in that bathtub, cartel enforcers holding me under, water filling my lungs.


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    Terror gripped me, paralyzed me as I thrashed in confusion.


    Then Nessy was there, her arm around my waist, pulling me upward. We broke the surface together, gasping for air. She kept me afloat as I coughed and sputtered, the phantom memory of drowning slowly receding.


    "I''ve got you," she rasped, spitting water. "I''ve got you, Alec."


    As my vision cleared, I took in our surroundings. We were in a quarry lake, surrounded by steep walls of exposed granite and limestone. The water was clear and cold, reflecting an ordinary blue sky crossed by wisps of gray and white clouds.


    The orange bucket bobbed nearby, the Sandwichu Tree miraculously still intact within it, its glass branches glittering in the daylight.


    Nessy began swimming toward the shore, one arm still supporting me while the other sliced the water. She also reached and gripped the bucket''s handle between her teeth. I found my strength returning and helped, kicking my legs to propel us forward.


    In a few seconds of paddling, we reached the pebbly, sparkling beach, emerged from the water and collapsed on the smooth stones, exhausted and dripping.


    The air was clean and smelled of pines and birches, not filled with eerie wrongness that had permeated Calvin''s domain and the world outside of it.


    ¡°We made it,¡± I let out.


    Nessy pushed herself up on her elbows, her fur plastered to her body, making her look smaller and more vulnerable. Her blue eyes scanned the shoreline, the quarry walls, the distant trees silhouetted against the mid-day sky.


    "Yeah," she said, sniffing. "Ferguson Quarry. My little hometown..."


    She emphasized the ''my'' subtly but unmistakably.


    We had arrived in her world, not mine. A place where dogs walked upright, spoke human languages, wore clothes, and worked jobs. A place that existed in parallel to the world I had known. I would be a stranger here, taking the place of another me.


    I should have felt more alarmed by this realization, but exhaustion and the lingering effects of our passage through nullspace left me oddly calm, perhaps slanted sideways a little. If nothing else, we were away from the city without a name, far from the massive magnetic beast, away from the hungry nippers, the Celestorm and ghostly echoes that had worn the faces of my past.


    Nessy looked into the bucket, checking on our tree. The delicate living artifact had survived our journey intact, its branches tinkling softly in the gentle evening breeze. Small sandwich buds still clung to its limbs, promising future sustenance and impossible powers.


    She grabbed a few sandwiches and stuffed them into her mouth and then pulled off two and brought them to me. ¡°Nom. You¡¯re still bleeding.¡±


    I opened my mouth to reply and Nessy instantly leaned forward, stuffing a small sandwich into my maw.


    ¡°You know, you don¡¯t have to feed me,¡± I commented, chewing.


    ¡°Yeah, but I wanna,¡± she fired back with a grin, gently shoving another small, triangular sandwich into my face. ¡°You need this as much as I do. So shush n¡¯ accept the magic noms.¡±


    I did. It was nice to have Nessy at my side. She fed me more tiny sandwiches until my Health ticked up all the way to 100% while my Reconstitution got to 39%.


    ¡°We should save the rest,¡± I said. ¡°Maybe they''ll get bigger or we can grow more sandwich trees.¡±


    ¡°M¡¯kay,¡± she agreed.


    I turned my gaze to the quarry beach, the water lapping gently at the shore. Calvin had told us to think of where we wanted to go, and Nessy and I had chosen this specific place¡ªthe site where, in both our worlds, she had saved me.


    A connection point between realities. A place where, despite all differences, our stories intersected the most. The beach where I had nearly died and been rescued by my grandfather''s dog. The beach where, in Nessy''s version of reality, she had saved her best friend.


    I looked at her¡ªthis impossible creature who had crossed worlds to find me, who had fought beside me, who had dragged me from the water not once but twice now. Her soaked fur was sticking up at odd angles, glistening, water dripping onto the glass pebbles below us.


    She shook herself, throwing water droplets everywhere and splashing me and then engulfed me in a hug, licking my face.


    ¡°Home,¡± she grinned. ¡°We¡¯re home.¡±


    ¡°Your home,¡± I said.


    ¡°Ours,¡± she shook her head. ¡°Mine and now your.¡±


    I chose not to argue, rising as she helped me up.


    ¡°Where are we heading to?¡± I asked, following as she pulled me across the beach by the hand.


    ¡°Mmmmmm¡­ my place,¡± she said. ¡°Then yours.¡±


    ¡°I have a place?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Your grandfather¡¯s RV,¡± she replied. ¡°I have a copy of the key.¡±


    ¡°This is going to be very awkward when the other Alec shows up,¡± I said. ¡°Because I never gave you a key to my place in Ferguson.¡±


    ¡°Shush you,¡± she shook her head. ¡°It wasn''t you, your grandfather gave me a copy. I helped him out when he got sick during his final years.¡±


    Shivering slightly we walked uphill and then got onto the stairwell carved from gray limestone.


    The limestone steps wound upward from the quarry beach, worn smooth by years of foot traffic. As we climbed, the quarry revealed itself fully ¨C a near-perfect cube carved into the landscape, exactly as I remembered it. The vast, geometric body of water sat like a mirror reflecting the cloudy sky, corroded on one side into the beach section where we''d emerged. Surrounding us, an ocean of trees washed over Ferguson Valley in undulating waves of deep green and gold, the foliage seemingly untouched by the end of the world and System bullshit.


    For a moment, I froze, transfixed by the familiarity of it all. This place existed here just like in my memories ¨C not distorted by Systemfall, not warped into something nightmarish and unrecognizable.


    Just... normal.


    "It''s exactly the same," I murmured, the words barely audible. "Like nothing happened."


    ¡°Eh,¡± she rubbed the back of her head. ¡°Some¡­ stuff happened. Just not as bad as in the big cities. I think that wherever there were more people, more shit became iffy.¡±


    We continued upward, passing scattered pines that clung tenaciously to the rocky outcroppings. The bucket with our Sandwichu Tree swung in Nessy''s free hand. My lime-green sneakers squelched uncomfortably, still waterlogged from our abrupt arrival.


    As we neared the top of the steps, the ranger''s station came into view ¨C a weathered building carved from the quarry limestone decorated with rough-hewn logs and river stone at the edges of windows and doors.


    A faded sign depicting a forest silhouette hung above the door, gently swinging in the afternoon breeze. The words ¡°Ferguson Quarry National Park¡± were there just like I remembered them.


    However, standing on the porch with a cardboard box in clawed hands, was... something I''d never seen before, a colorful absurdity utterly alien to my memories.


    Another pradavarian.


    She was human and reptilian at the same time, with scales the color of forest shadows ¨C deep greens fading to dark violet along her slender snout, iridescent like the shell of the Chrysina gloriosa beetle. Green and black feathers erupted from her head and ran down her neck in lieu of hair. Her uniform ¨C a green ranger''s outfit with a badge pinned to the breast pocket ¨C strained slightly over her curvy and tall frame. A holstered gun sat at her hip.


    A raptor. A woman. A raptor-woman ranger.


    I froze, my brain struggling to process her appearance.


    Nessy had mentioned other Pradavarians besides dogs, but seeing one in person was entirely different from the purely theoretical knowledge that they existed.


    For a moment I was entirely overwhelmed with cultural shock, akin to seeing an alien live for the first time.


    The raptor-girl''s amber eyes, previously focused on her task, suddenly turned with her head to meet mine. The box she''d been carrying tumbled from her clawed hands, landing with a heavy thud on the concrete porch. Her mouth¨Ca dangerous-looking beak with jagged, serrated edges¨Copened in shock just as mine did.


    "Alec?" Her voice was distinctively feminine.


    Before I could formulate a response, she bounded down the porch steps with inhuman grace, crossing the distance between us in a few fluid strides. I barely had time to register what was happening before I was enveloped in a tight embrace, her scaled and feathery arms wrapping around me.


    "You''re alive," she cried, her voice breaking. "You''re alive! For so long... I thought you were dead! The detective told me that¡­¡±


    Her body trembled against mine, and I realized with a shock that she was crying¨Csmall, clicking sounds escaping her throat as moisture gathered at the corners of her amber eyes.


    I stood rigid in her embrace, arms hanging uselessly at my sides, completely at a loss. Who was this person? Why did she know me? My eyes sought out Nessy over the raptor-woman''s shoulder, pleading for some explanation.


    What I found was not helpful.


    Nessy''s ears were flattened against her skull, her tail bristling, pupils narrowed to dangerous slits. A low, warning growl rumbled from her chest ¨C a sound so primal and threatening that it raised the hair on the back of my neck.


    The raptor-girl must have heard it too. She stiffened against me, then slowly released her hold, though one clawed hand remained on my shoulder as she turned to face Nessy.


    She saw the bucket with the sandwich tree and then her expression suddenly changed to pure, incandescent rage.


    ¡°YOU! You brought one of those cursed things to Ferguson?¡± She growled. ¡°You do know that this shit is illegal here, right? What if it infects my forest? What are you thinking you stupid fuck?! Damn it all, I already have enough work as it is, now I have to burn that effing cursed thing too¡­ What is that even¡­ a fucking sandwich tree?! Slayer!¡±


    ¡°I¡­ erm,¡± Nessy stammered.


    ¡°I¡¯ll deal with you later, you effing knobfold,¡± she turned to me. ¡°Alec¡­ Why are you looking at me like that? What¡¯s wrong? Aren¡¯t you gonna give your girlfriend a kiss?¡±