{Key: Null Symbols (Ø) Indicate Perspective Changes}

Outside the large, sloped aperture was nothing but a ream of prairie with an intermittent conveyor belt of sundry foliage. It’s that kind of atmosphere that breeds ennui and lets it fester until your head finds comfort against your knuckles. Two piercing-pallid eyes pranced about the scenery, desperately looking for something vaguely interesting – to no avail. There was absolutely nothing; nothing but somnolent, rather hypnotic spools of grass dashing his peripheral vision in a verdant flurry. What was once a nuisance was now lulling him into much needed rest, but before he could be swept away in reverie, a hand befell his shoulder – accompanied with a renegade pothole.

“Try and stay up a bit longer, kitten. We’ll be there before you know it! See, I warned you about grabbing the milk instead of the water or the complementary coffee”

“POSSAT. And I require no reprimand from you, Jayboy.”

“Really now? Could have fooled me with just how much you were purring whilst slurpin’ that milk up, kitty!” Snide and cocksure, the mephitic mischief-maker broke out into a series of guffaws, idly matting down his unkempt alabaster stripe. That abrupt bunny hop managed to throw his bangs into an ahoge, “Oh, it’s just a bit of raillery, Taha! Hey, why don’t you walk around and get that blood pumpin’! That should wake you up! And hell, this bus is certainly long enough. Run to the end and back ‘ere and I’m fairly certain that’s a mile!”

That suggestion was met with a disheartened earsplay. Though the notion of calisthenics was far from appealing, at least he could find some solace in being away from Mr. R’ent I. Witty for a while. The possat tossed his jacket at his acquaintance, whistling as he jaunted passed the first few seats. Sure, it was brusque of him, but at least it was cathartic. ‘He deserved it’, was his justification – but there’s no longer a need to dwell on juvenile antics. Tahajin made it his mission to find something worthy of his attention on the interior, since it was just a chartreuse desert out the window. Most of the rows were par for the course when it came to accordion, double decker buses: Small families pacifying their querulous children with electronics; dapper ladies and gentlemen adorned with illustrious regalia, polishing their timepieces and stifling the noise either with headphones or pure concentration on their reading material; college students sound asleep, huddled against one another or against the ledge. The farther back he ambled, the more rambunctious the passengers became. Past the accordion buffer, the air was inebriating, laden with alcohol, cigarette smoke and another odor whose origin was best left enigmatic. The invitation to join this mini-brothel by a group of stoned ungulates what was scared the ebon hybrid up the stairs – away from the cacophony of indulgence.

“What’s all this?”

The second floor was predominately empty, just a few ill occupants dotted along the seats. There were even lighting alterations – the lower floors were much better lit than this. It’s rather rare that his eyes had to dilate to see clearly on a municipal vehicle. While there wasn’t a sense of poverty on that floor, amputees deprived of modern prosthetic limbs were prevalent – most of which wore full military attire. There were also several individuals with facial depressions where eyes previously filled. Essaying his gait, making absolutely sure his presence wouldn’t impose – a child charged pass with a tear-etched visage. Female. Calico. Couldn’t be a day over eight and she was frantically wailing for her father. Something or someone in the first portion of the bus must have frightened her half to death. Dashing for the last seat on the bus, she swung her arms around a man clothed in a tattered cloak, clutching the frays for support and working herself up onto his lap. For the longest time, the possat stood there – perplexed as to why a parent wouldn’t immediately return such an embrace – until the truth hit him.

Striding down the spiral staircase, countenance taut with indignation, Tahajin morphed his hands into parapets and parted the sea of intoxicated adultolescence. Never had poignancy piqued his ire so vigorously. What was that? Why did that even exist in this day and age? With the sheer volume of technology available, why should a father… No, why should any creature be bereft of basic appendages? Still, why did they take to their own floor? Is integrating with the physically sound that humiliating? Muttering kitsch phrases under his breath, his query was answered by ways of a drunken canine that latched onto his leg, regaling him in a blubbery drawl. “’Ey, ‘ey’, ‘ey, ‘ey. You’d better go to the washroom… Yeah, yeah! So you can wipe all those freak cooties off of ya! Those freaks of nature up ‘n’ ‘ere! Ha!” To make matters worse, that oaf’s entire posse chuckled along with him. “Get off me, you deplorable rapscallion before I liberate YOUR wrist of a hand,” Burgeoning rage brought his pupils to a pinprick as the possat tore free of the drunkard and stormed for the front of the bus.

As one would expect, Jay was winding up to hurl the possat’s jacket right back at him – until his expression was visible, of course. Even if he held a vacant expression, it didn’t take physiognomy to tell with Tahajin was pissed “You look revitalized,” Jay signified.

“I don’t want to hear it, Jayboy” muttered the monochromatic hybrid, exasperated yet deadpan, “Damn drunken ignoramuses with their confectionary trolips.”

“Ah jeez, I meant the end of this half of the bus! Sorry you had to be subjected to all that noise.”

“I also went upstairs.”

“…I see…”

“Do you? Because what I saw up there was nothing short of unforgivable!”

“Tahajin, please… You’ll make a scene.”

“Damn straight I’ll make a scene! Plus, there’s a stigma on them, too! They’re just like you and me, they just have physical deformities!”

“Yes, yes. I’m well aware. I’m also aware that we’re in a public venue…”

“Oh, take your decorum and chuck it! Why are we dedicating the bulk of our advancements to ordinance and personal electronics when that still exist in mass?!”

“That’s where the money is, Taha! You can’t just…!”

“…Juggle both?! I remember seeing some of those prosthetics in textbooks from the thirties Some of them even more antiquated than the war veterans they were so tactlessly stapled to!”

“You’re letting that zeal override your reason, Taha. Simmer down! You know as well as I do that medical sector only gets the scraps off the dining room rug when it comes to funding!”

“That’s a grotesquely apt analogy…”

Fortunately, Tahajin’s vehemence had a time limit before it was replaced with pensiveness. He hung his head, holding three fingers agin his forehead – the traditional obeisance for apology. He returned to his seat and Jay draped his arm over his shoulder. A potent concoction of activism was brewing within that intrepid possat, its fumes strong enough to elicit a clenched fist. This bus had become a microcosm of the word’s standing. Billions were injected into interesting, yet ultimately superfluous technology. Interactive holograms, biometrics, security that exceeded the pneumatic lock of yesteryear… Cellular devices with the processing power of towers, cars capable of hovering and sustained stratosphere flight… The reasoning? Just about as faulty as ‘he deserved it’. Of course, that all pales in comparison to the trillions armament suppliers receive biweekly. If you develop a weapon that can snip the mortal coil of your fellow bipedal in an innovative way, prepare yourself for an efflux of cash. On the other hand, if you find a pharmaceutical breakthrough or invent something that would lessen detrimental emissions, prospective benefactors will not give a “Fuck, that’s absolutely horrendous! They did that to you when you were coming downstairs?”

“Mhm. Jay, I thought this wound was mending itself, but it’s just degrading… I’ve gotta do something about this.” Tahajin lopped his tail into his denim-sheathed lap, meticulously combing through the villi with his fingers. ‘Twas but a flimsy attempt at easing his thoughts. There was a fifteen minute coma of unnerving peace after that – extenuated by the fact that people were still glaring at the obsidian duo for the ruckus they made. Jay broke the silence with a series of deliberate ‘ahem’s and chimed up, “If you want reform, you’ve need to be big. Larger than life itself. You’re a tad on the YOUNG side for establishing a business of that caliber, but. – luckily for you, I know a guy and an event.”

“An event?”

“Think ‘globally publicized talent show’. Call your guardian and tell her we’ll be a tad late, will ya? It’s high time I introduce you to Komarov Industrial.”

***

Known as the ‘Architects of Armageddon’, Komarov Industrial is renowned for supplying warmongers and belligerent nations with ordinance capable of eradicating nations with uncanny efficiency. If you happen to be a dictator looking to imbue your personal squadron with earth-shattering weaponry or a commander in the market for an ace-in-the-hole, accept no substitutes. These nondiscriminatory supply ethics made the conglomerate loathsome, at best – and the absolute bane of any diplomacy operation. Even the very face of the company has a frighteningly denticulate countenance. His sneer alone can instill ineffable fear. “They’re a veritable vortex of destruction and you want me to visit them?” The melphit’s lackadaisical nod offered in response only served to infuriate. “Surely there must be some other way to accrue a rapport with the general public! You know, a more respectable establishment, like Attosoft!” Jay’s face did not wane. “Alright, alright – that was a bad suggestion. They wouldn’t accept an undergrad. There just has to be something else, though. Anything...”

Rapidly clawing at his cheek, Tahajin’s eyes flew from the window to the back of the bus driver’s chair. Perhaps an alternative would be embroidered on his seat, printed in one of the magazines scattered about his armrest. Maybe it was even hewn in the glass partition or written in the sky! As prospective replacements went from few to virtually nonexistent (much to Tahajin’s chagrin), the possat’s eyes dilated in dread of having to meet this enigmatic weaponsmith. He hadn’t borne witness to pictures, just stories from peers and in the media. His face was allegedly etched with scars with keloids sprouting around his jawline. His smile was as scarce as it was bone-chilling. Professional bodybuilders aspired to obtain his physique. The mental image by itself was enough to spine the possat’s fur. Exhausting all other possibilities, Tahajin let out a somber snivel afore capitulating to the truth – arms draped over the edge of the seat, hands limb in their thigh pocket abodes, his head suspended by the nape. A consolatory hand smoothed over his jacket as Jay slid into a sideways embrace. “Listen, Taha. I know how you feel. KI’s not the most appealing choice, but it’s the only business out there with an expo that’s open to the public. I know Sergei doesn’t have the best reputation – but, look around you!”

Tahajin’s head remained still in protest, sighing between clenched teeth as he was slowly coming to terms with what he’d soon need to deal with. However, his ears perked straight up and oscillated. This is all you’re getting out of me. Appreciate it. The mere mention of Komarov Industrial swept over the lower portion of the bus like an abrupt tsunami, inundating the passengers’ conversations. As expected, whenever the CEO’s name was mentioned, it was drenched in vitriol, but his subordinates secured copious amounts of praise. All of it was rather odd to overhear.

One moment, the commuters were quite literally spitting over Sergei’s name and the next, they when on to fortify the acclaim of those inventors and developers that procured podium positions in the previous expo. Accounts of winning contestants revolutionizing multiple fields of technology with their inventions permeated the upper-levels as well. One person even recounted the age-old tale of how the haptic hologram prevalent in modern telecommunications was originally affixed to the side of sniper rifle that clinched 2nd place. “Regardless of how the public views the company’s dealings, they’ll always hold victors in high esteem – most of whom break away from KI about four months after the convention’s conclusion. You’ll nab the trophy without a doubt – and, with that, you’ll be set for life, and you’ll have the respect of other potential benefactors to help ya along, should you even need the financial assistance. C’mon, ya puddle-possat…!”

“Ah’d stop try’na pressure th’ poor lad, ya goon,” erupted the hefty brogue of the ursine busman, glancing his shoulder with pulsating veins animating his forehead, “Aye, ya git yo’r fair amount of fame if ya manage to win, but notice they dinnae talk ‘bout the eig’ty-eight losers. If you win, hurrah! If ya almost win, ya get a sedated ‘hurrah’. Howeva, if you lose – don’t be expectin’ to be ken by anyone. And God help ye if you fail to reach the Top 10. You’ll be swept out like the trash into a chankin alley, returnin’ to yo’r life o’ mediocretee wit’ yo’r reputation destroyed. ‘Course, dat’s if yo’re lucky! Ah wiznae. Now I’m forced to settle for a job ferryin’ around 255 people, half of which are pished and jaked in the back o’ th’ bus and the other half too goddamned ‘shamed to load wit’ the rest o’im!” After the initial shock of their conversation being eavesdropped on, Jay found his voice amidst the awkward silence, “I-… While you do have my sympathies, I doubt Taha here will have the same problem…”

“DUN TALK MINCE, IDIOT. That bairn diznae have a snowball’s chance in Hell! It ain’t won with intelligence, it’s won wit’ experience and the ability to work a crowd o’ dobbers – not ta mention ‘ow efficacious th’ weapon is! This greenhorn cannae do that, trust me.” The grizzly’s words were disheartening at best – and Tahajin flopped against the seat, burgeoning hope crushed within milliseconds.

He’s right. Unless I draw up a blueprint for a weapon that could subjugate the inhabitants of a planetoid AND somehow beat the innovations of those far more skilled than I, I have no chance of winning.

The melphit slid closer to his companion, none too keen on the fact that they were being monitored and his derision coating his diction, “Don’t let that wad of ethnic spice get you down, Taha. He’s just pessimistic, that’s all!”

“You know better than anyone that I have no chance against someone with their doctorate in Mechanical Engineering…”

“I’ve seen the stuff you’ve made! What about your glasses? You could submit those with all the tech you broke into them!”

“And go colorblind during the presentation as a result? No way, these things are far too precious for something like this.”

“I’m sure you can come up with something that would blow the competition away!”

Tahajin throttled his fist into the front seat, eliciting an ‘Ayacunt!’ from the driver, “Face facts! This is open to the public and it’s very likely that 50 or so post-graduates are going to be there!” Burying himself into the rear cushion – arms folded, the possat wove a heavy sigh, “Not so much as ten seconds out of the gate and already my dream is of the PIPE variety.”

“You need to get out of this funk you’re in!” Gentle scritches befell the possat’s collar up to the ears. Try as he might, those ministrations kindled vigorous purring, hampering his speech. “Q-q-quit it, nyah! Quit it out! Stop! Heee! Oh, you bast-…Hehehehaha! Stop! I’m going to choke!” After about ten seconds of finger-assisted squirming, quills flourished from the possat’s forearms. His tail coiled around the offending arms, trying desperately to immobilize the melphit. Sure, it was a crude defensive mechanism – but anything would do, so long as it thwarted those incessant tickles. “Look who just became a porcupossat! Alright, alright – I’ll stop, but only because you’re smiling like a child at an amusement park. Now…AHEM…if you would be so kind as to unravel…?” Both tail and keratin withdrew and Jay bounded out of his seat, dusting off his khakis into the aisle. “The dinner cart is going to come around in about a quarter-clock. I’m going to see of the accordion is still servin’ foodstuffs since the last thing I want is that airline-quality CRAP. In the meantime, call…what’s-her-name and tell her we’ll be rather late.”

“Imani. Come on, sound it out. EE-MAWN-EE. It’s not that difficult to remember.”

• You have reached the voicemail inbox of ‘Imani and Jinjin!’. To leave a message, press 1 or wait for the tone. To leave a callback number, press 2. This unit does not require biometric authentication. If you still wish to affirm you identity, place a finger on the rear touchpad and allow two seconds for the scan to complete. This will grant your call ‘High Priority’ status. –

Yes, yes – get on with it!

“Imani? Maaaani… Mani? Mani! Come on, I know you’re there – it’s 8 PM!”

There was a long stream of garbled words and desk rapping before audible word hit the receiver.

“Yes, schedule the Neutrino Summit for this Saturday. No no, that’s fine. Understandable. Listen, I really do need to run – my son’s calling me. Yes. YES, ALRIGHT. GOODBYE,” a salutation accompanied with thunderous clunks of what sounded like plastic and an exasperated groan, “Sorry about that, sweetheart! I was in a call with the powers that be and I was struggling to tie it up during that mechanical spiel.”

“…Was that a headset you just threw? Are you seriously using a headset?”

“Yes, and…?”

“That’s a good…millennia old!”

“And it still works – unlike those new-fangled gizmos you attach to your temple. Bought one of those out of pure curiosity and it shattered the next day.”

“I’m surprised anything is even compatible with it nowadays!”

“Would you be so kind as to cease ragging on my technological bents and tell me why you called?”

“I’m going to be late. Jay’s taking me to KI.”

“The clothing outlet on the north side?”

“No, the less violent ‘KI’.”

“Ooh, Komarov Industrial! That name always peeved me. It should be INDUSTRIES.”

“So, you’re fine with that?”

“What’s with that air of disbelief? You’re with Jay, you’ll be fine! Give Sergei my regards!”

“Mani, you went to school with Sergei, right? Jay, too?”

“Indeed!”

“That darn skunk’s not going to revel anything so…could you…tell me about him?”

Not a breath. Not a click. Not a fumble. Not a stammer. Not one discernible noise. Just deafening silence. Ø

Should I tell him? Imani held the receiver behind her back, lest it pick up her chuckles. In school, Sergei was a tangential, precipitous moron – constantly flaunting his hyperactivity. He was oblivious of how creatures worked, and yet still fancied himself a Casanova. When the Graduating Class Superlatives rolled around, he was voted as ‘Most Likely to be Convicted of Sexual Harassment’…and he delighted in that title! And now that he has such a coveted position, I doubt much has changed since then. “I still remember Senior year with him,” she thought aloud with wispy nostalgia, “He used to serenade me with those stupid gun-related poems. I distinctly remember one of the couplets being ‘I swear I’ll treat you right and polish your slide all day and all night.’ Oh God, and the incident at prom! He went up to one of the jocks and drew two revolvers loaded with blanks, saying ‘Now it’s time for you to check out my guns!’ Aww, he was such a little freakazoid.”

“He’ll shoot me down with a droid?! What?! Mani? IMANI!”

Oops. “Apologies, Jinjin. I was pulled away as soon as you asked!”

“Yeah, sure you were. Now what was that about a droid?”

“I said nothing about a droid, hun! Your floofy ears are playing tricks on you.”

“Just tell me about him already…”

“And ruin the surprise? Absolutely not!”

“First you go silent for a good six minutes and then ya go from demanding and impatient to jovial? Do you have a cog loose?”

“Hehehehe…Maybe! Anyway, remember to bop Sergei for me and I’ll see you when you get back home!”

Click. Ø

Dumbstruck, Tahajin glowered at his smartphone. Perhaps he should forgo the trip and check on his guardian’s sanity. From pause to drastic moodswing, along with the barely audible murmuring, nothing was meshing properly. Before he could ruminate over what amphetamines were in the house, Jay came bouncing back with an arm-full of nosh. “I love how it’s buffet-style back there! Though, I did have to shake one of those idiots off my leg. Might have been the one that was harassing you, too! Ah well, them’s the breaks with public transportation.” In one ear, out the other. The possat was still deciding whether to be frightened or relieved. Maybe Sergei’s not so bad after all and the press had cast a disparaging light onto him. “Uhm, Taha? Earth to Taha. Come in, Taha.” While they do have a penchant for that, Sergei might be the one exception. That laughter was probably Imani pulling a bit of reverse psychology and that monolithic executive would be some kind of horror from beyond the threshold with eight arms, three heads, and a vendetta against shapeshifting folk.”Taha?” Any attempt at reaching him now was futile. Tahajin was lost in a labyrinth of thought. Blistering apprehension became a white noise of unreasonable supposition (i.e. the cadre of ‘What if…’).

What if he’s a raving megalomaniac?

What if all the rumors about him are true?

What if he’s a raving lunatic and everything around him was just an intricately planned ruse?

What if…

“Tahajin, look! Big, fluffy…mushy things with line eyes and round faces are floating past the window!”

Heart ablaze, the possat face pressed up against the glass, alabaster pupils flashing about the scenery, “WHERE?! WHERE?! I wanna see! I wanna s-…,” and then it clicked, “You bastard.” Jay rolled into Tahajin’s jab, and as the duo began to roughhouse, the ‘Fasten Seatbelt’ sign binged on – and the two collected what little composure they had left and strapped in. Two attendants, both of able construct, swept any stragglers into their seats (and rolled up their sleeves afore entering the second car). Monotone announcements advised passengers for the millionth time: The train will not be exiting Cruise Hovering. Fasten your seatbelts and ensure that all tray tables are stowed and all seats are in their upright position. With the sudden judder downwards, the bus re-entered the deceleration rail, steadily deploying wheels as the speed was radically reduced. Taxing around the predetermined path, the bus arrived on solid ground for the first time in hours into an unassuming township tenanted with small municipal buildings, closely-knit residential clichés, and sporadic high-rises to shatter the low skyline and coruscate throughout the night. Hefty and euphonious, this air of suburbia – yet twangs of autobahn-wide roads and induction rails were thrown in, interrupting the melody.

The largest structure in the town resembled that of an enclosed stadium lined with oscillating LEDs on the perimeter – and was the very same building the Aerocoach was pulling into. After the momentary coma of silence once the bus slid through the concrete ingress, squealing breaks faded to nullify the station’s commotion. Pneumatically-sealed doors hissed ajar and once the initial gathering of attendants disembarked, the tone of the bus changed dramatically – from the bourgeoisie, their families, and the intoxicated masses to businessmen and women. Clad in regulation wear with very few deviations, weighed down by carrying cases, they all began gearing up for third shift. Some remained by the entrance, scrutinizing the station’s alabaster interior and the scrolling marquee schedules. Others dashed to the nearest seat, tossing their laptop lids placing the finishing touches on whatever crucial the bus’s arrival had interrupted. Glancing over his shoulder, the ebon ursine gave a cursory inspection of the new occupants. When his eyes fell upon Jay and Tahajin, still fastened to their seat, he whipped around – downing a half-liter of caffeine, mumbling profanity between swigs. The intercom rose again, announcing in a far more masculine voice the next stops on the line. The doors gave two warning shutters before sealing shut and the bus began its crawl through rest of the station and down into the ignition pipeline – an underground incline that with specialized conveyors along the rail to bring about express acceleration. Two clamps enclosed the chassis and, quite literally, shot the bus forward until it reached cruising speed and left the tunnel.

Manila streaks of florescence broke the monotony of estate after estate, and as the bus sped by – the last vestiges of the town were a few solar arrays on the outskirts and an antiquated sign reading ‘Thanks for visiting New Cavae – the first city to combine the idyllic past and the budding future! Please come again soon!’

Stricken by boredom, Tahajin whipped out his phone once more, idly fiddling around with some of the applications and Jay craned over his shoulder, “So, did you tell Imani that we’re skipping NC and heading for KI?” the melphit asked with a dollop of distance in his voice, attention being ceased by the graphics prancing along the screen. “Hmm? Oh yeah, I told her – and let me tell you, talking with her about Sergei didn’t help matters much. In fact, I’m in a much worse frame o’ mind. Imani was adamant about keeping Sergei’s disposition a surprise and whenever she does that – it’s either something terrific of egregious,” as Jay moved closer, the possat snarled for personal space, “Considering who we’re talking about here, I highly doubt it’ll be the former.” Tahajin sunk down into his seat, twiddling his thumbs in a last stich effort to expel worry – to absolutely avail. Without his ace, Jay struggled to lift the possat’s spirits – first by playing the role of bard and then by acting as a rubbernecker, feigning intrigue at the screens careening past Tahajin’s device. If anything, the task was somnolent enough to lull the both of them into a frayed, nervy sleep.

Do monochromatic beings dreams of poor introductions?

Hours passed before the bus entered the Sprawl. The bombastic hammering of tireless industry (along with the resounding quaffs emanating from the driver’s seat at the bear took full advantage of ‘autopilot’) was enough to jar the dyad awake. Reams of rigs mounted on florescent flotillas with sporadic cracks of foliage comprised the scenery. Glowing panoramas aside, sitting in the same position for hours on end – fastened to public upholstery – was even starting to get on the melphit’s nerves. He didn’t have a hissy fit or anything of the sort, but the indignation was progressively being hewn on his brow. It wasn’t long before he blurted out, “What’s the ETA for Unity Bell Station?” Since the busman failed to respond – one of the adjacent passengers, a dust-gray and tawny lapine – to be precise, responded in regal form, “We should be arriving at around 12:15, give or take ten minutes due to traffic in system.” Jay threw up a hand in frustration, muttering something about ‘notifying Sergei’ beneath grumbles.

The hare slid out into the aisle, paw shielding a corner of his mouth, “I do not wish to pry, but where do you two gentlemen plan on going once we reach Xiphos?” Picking up on the cue, Jay whispered his response, “We’re heading over to Safeguard. My friend over here has a meeting with Sergei.” As much as he tried to retain composure, disgust flooded the hare’s expression. His eyes sped to the possat back down to the melphit and disgust yielded to disbelief, “That child has an appointment with Sergei Komarov?! Save his height, he doesn’t look a day over 10!” “He’s actually going to be 15 in a few weeks. I’d keep your voice down, though – he’s not a big fan of being referred to as a ‘child’.” Placing his hand above his heart and eyes knit shut, the rabbit offered his most sincere apologies and sat slavishly as if he was waiting for permission to speak again. When nothing came, one of his eyes unfurled, “M-may I continue?” was his meek query. Jay was still trying to adjust to the ‘spotlight’ being thrown in his direction. The apology was one thing, but this? “Ahh… Sure, dude. Go ahead.” “AHEM! Again, I do ask for your forgiveness. I shouldn’t have been so brusque! And…it seems I’ve taken leave of all my previous instruction as I’ve yet to introduce myself. Thomas Evergreen. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr…”

“Ednor. You can just call me Jay.”

“Very well then, Jay. Tell me, what business does that youth have with such a formidable executive?”

“He’s going to try and apply for the Komarov Expo. It’s a bit late, but I’m sure he’ll be able to whip something up by the deadline.”

“The Komarov Expo? That ch-…young man? You do realize that he only has two months whereas other contestants, especially the ones who have failed, have had 11.”

“Yeah, but you haven’t seen this possat in action. He’ll make it in and he’ll astound you – along with the rest of the audience!”

“You cannot ride on precociousness alone, Jay.”

“There’s more to this child than meets the eye, Mr. Evergreen.” Thomas was just about to interject, but that staunch confidence Jay radiated with stifled his vim, “If you believe so fervently in this boy, then far be it for me to say otherwise. I wish him the best of-…” Three incrementing chimes cut the hare off abruptly and signaled the start of the automated public-address. “Good evening, passengers. We are now entering Xiphos’ Metro airspace for this lines final stop and will be connecting with the appropriate rail shortly. Please take this time to prepare your identification for scanning along with returning all seats to their original position. Remember to check all overhead bins before departing and do not attempt to exit the vehicle until it has reached a complete stop. Thank you for choosing Slipstream: Eden’s #1 Aerocoach.” Thomas glanced about, anticipating another interruption before finishing his statement, “LUCK.” The front dashboard swung open and a service drone was deployed, hovering three feet off the as it took hold of the attendants ID and proceeded to scan it for forgeries – starting with the person closest to the aisle. Upon successful uptake, the drone pronounced the individual’s name and race, followed swiftly by ‘Verified’.

Thomas Evergreen. Jackrabbit. Verified.

Jay Ednor. Striped Skunk. Verified.

Tahajin Grandville. Hybrid Possat. Verified.

“GRANDVILLE?!” Thomas exclaimed in a fit of joy, extending his entire torso out into the row, “To think I would be sitting across from a Grandville! Oh, just wait until Master Burlington here’s of this!” It was that display of enthusiasm over his surname that caused Tahajin to stop feigning sleep. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t draw so much attention to something that means little to nothing.” “Little to nothing?! Being a member of such an illustrious, it must be fantast-…” Tahajin’s arm elasticated over Jay’s shoulders and up to Thomas’ mouth, placing an index finger upon his lips. “Shhh…there’s no need to be so energetic about this. My surname is Grandville. So what? Treat it as if it was any other last name. I didn’t hear Jay freak out once he found out you were part of the Evergreen linage nor did you have the same level of exhilaration when Jay told you he was of the family Ednor.” Thomas composed himself and Tahajin retracted his arm. “I do appreciate you wishing me luck, however.” “Not that you’ll need it! Had I known you were…who you were, I wouldn’t have been nearly as skeptical. Jay, you do know that the public’s going to hemorrhage excitement if this boy makes it in. This is the first time someone this young and a linage this well-respected as ever graced the grounds at the Komarov Expo.” Jay slammed his face into his palm, dragging the latter across the former’s surface, “I’m going to have to bank on you being one of the few people who know of Grandville’s history. I don’t need Taha more nervous than he already is.” Appalled, Thomas’ attention swapped from Jay to Tahajin, “Why on Earth are you nervous? Your last name alone will jettison you past the preliminary round – and, considering the track record of those born with your last name, I doubt you are a slouch in the intellectual department.”

“I’m not nervous…I’m reluctant and a bit ashamed that this is the only avenue available to me. To have to start beneath an arms dealer in order to achieve goals that are diametrically opposed.”

“Do I sense a bit of passivity in you, Mr. Grandville?”

“No, it’s not THAT. I’m not AGAINST all violence. I’m AGAINST the mass production of violence and the ignoramuses behind it. We have some of the most advanced technology compared to other continents and it continues to grow at an exponential rate. And our weapons? Puh! We could subjugate any country we wanted to with the flip of a switch or the stamp of an official-…”

“Hyperbole, but go on.”

“All this, yet we’re so reprobated that we don’t even have a cure for something as long standing as the common cold, let alone care for those maimed in accidences like the people on the top floor of this very bus?”

Withdrawing from the aisle, Thomas ran his digits along the side of his jaw, looking slightly conscience-stricken, “I understand where you are coming from, Tahajin – but you need to realize what’s more appealing nowadays: war and military might or healthcare and medicine.” “That’s exactly what I’m going to strive to change once I establish my own company with the winnings I’ll gain from the Komarov Expo,” Tahajin beat his fist into the upholstery just to coincide with this frustration. Was Jay really the only one to truly understand what it meant to initiate change? You don’t just sit there, complacent with the world’s inner-workings and meet every problem with an alteration of ‘That’s just how it is’. You identify the problem and you work to fix it. Tahajin tirade carried on for a good fifteen minutes after that. The possat grew so into his deliberation that he ended up exchanging seats with Jay so he wouldn’t have to crane his neck over the skunk’s alabaster locks. Despite the fact that he was being castigated throughout the vast majority of said discussion, Thomas eyes widened and he grew more engaged by the second. Each sentence was an epiphany and he caught himself mouthing the words ‘I never thought of it that way’ on more than one occasion. The doors hissing ajar broke the stream of politicking and as the possat and as the lapine and ebony duo collected their respective items and parted ways, Thomas lobbied for the hybrid’s attention amidst the crowd and once he obtained it – he fell to one knee, touching thumb and forefinger to the ground – the universal sign of ineffable veneration. Even the ursine was moved and as he clocked out, he hoisted his snifter in approval.

Despite the time of day, Unity Bell was still brimming with the same bustle New Cavae had at rush hour. A series of transparent escalators carried melphit and possat to the Destination Node - a pristine nexus laced with circuit-board accents and filled to bursting with clientele – not to mention holographic advertisements averaging one furlong in length. Overhead there were departure and arrival rigged to a specialized unit that could handle a multiplicity of voice commands. Upon yelling your destination, the data would either be sent to your personal device or an interactive screen would descent, displaying the times all the way up to next month. “You know, I’ve always loved how that thing’s hexagon plates undulate in accordance with the voice command – like little ripples of water,” Jay had an unhealthy fascination with technology that imitated nature, “How does it even recognize that commotion over there? It’s like a mosh pit at a black tie event!” Taking on his professoresque diction, Tahajin rose a finger and mewled the answer, “Each creature as a different oral signature. Even identical twins have very small components that differ from one another. That machine is running off of an updated version of Sound Discover that blocks out all ambient noise and takes out snippets of distinct commands. The machine then begins indexing (or undulating) in search of data regarding that command. If it’s not in the database, a message will be sent or a screen will drop requesting a repeat or it will snag the nearest sounding choice. Those who opted for voice recording on their identification have a much easier time with that, since that machine as direct access to that specific database – it being government-owned and all.” Jay wheeled around with one eyebrow arched to the side, “Is there anything you don’t know?”

“Ask me a question regarding the finer points of politics and I’ll draw a blank.”

Crisp air and a wind tunnel assisted breeze washed over the duo as they left the station – and it was a welcome relief from the muggy atmosphere of the coach. “How far is Safeguard from here, Jayboy?” rose Tahajin’s yawn-distorted question. “It’s about eleven city blocks or so. I wouldn’t work about it, really. With the pace you walk, you’ll be there in-… Awww, would you look at that view?” Jay swept his hand over Xiphos’ coruscating skyline. Most of the towers were piercing the overcast and concealed amongst the clouds, but they still remained intricately morphed megaliths garlanded in florescence alongside the interconnected pylons that linked different parts of the megalopolis. In spite of the cloudcover, one could still see the cerulean beams of the Spherical Polyhedron – the self-sustaining power source for one fourth of the city hovering above the tallest edifice in Xiphos: Quark, the electricity conglomerate. Though the crowds for public transportation were considerably large, traffic was nothing more than a pittance. While Jay felt the need to j-walk, Tahajin consistently took the far safer approach of constructing pedestrian overpasses when crossing the street (and absorbing them when he got to the other side).

“So, Imani was alright with this, correct?”

“Yup! Though, I think she was a bit preoccupied, so I’m not quite sure if it was a definite yes.”

“Could you double check with her? At this rate, we’re not going to be back in New Cavae until about…2:50 AM.”

“Oh, I texted her about that once we left the station. She didn’t respond, but at least she knows we arrived.”

The closer they came to the center of Safeguard, the less commercial the buildings began. The boxy and corporate style gave way to a more angular and chivalrous face – in fact, the XPD Main Precinct was stylized after a badge. All of those buildings paled in comparison to the looming behemoth affixed with the letters K and I. Imposing would be an understatement. In fact, it bore more gothic inspirations than anything else in the vicinity. Visible ogival, ribbed vaults, Romanesque main building with buttresses gracing the side… Anyone new to the city would have mistaken it for a slightly impoverished castle. “Believe it or not,” Jay piped up as they crossed the access road, “Sergei ordered all that grime and decay be placed on the exterior of KI. He said it gave it ‘character’ and the whole ‘unspoiled’ and ‘virginal’ motif was unbefitting of war. It might not look it, but this building’s only about…two years old? Three? Ahhh man, this dude is such a little peculiar bastard sometimes.”

The bionic guards at the front gate were dressed to the nines in anachronistic faire, yet armed to the teeth in ordinance. The first bellowed ‘Halt!’ while the second scrubbed them both down with a series of intangible scanners. Jay was immediately recognized as a ‘Confidant of Sergei’ and allowed to enter. Tahajin was permitted as well since Jay was allotted one guest, but the guards kept the possat under harsh scrutiny, even after he passed the gates. “Did we just pass through a time rift that I wasn’t aware of or something?” Question’s ridiculousness notwithstanding, Tahajin was honest. The whole setting was bewildering and Sergei was slowly but surely living up to the heinous rumors. “Sergei’s got a thing for meshing old and new – and I do mean OLD and new. Those guards are fairly advanced beneath the Renaissance get-ups, but…they’re…still in Renaissance get-ups! Your voice is trembling something fierce, too. You’re not frightened are you?”

I’m about to go have a conversation with the most sinister and iniquitous man in Eden. His malevolent reputation precedes him and regardless of how you and Imani view him, I’m still going to see this obfuscated figure exhaling brimstone. How am I meant to feel? Joyous? Oh YAY, let’s say ‘Hi’ to SATAN.

“No, it’s just light social phobia bubbling up,” Tahajin prevaricated with a straight face as they entered the nigh empty lobby with a single attendant currently using his keyboard as a pillow. The interior had a lovely je nais se quoi about it. It was ostentatious, sure – but the earthen tones made it far more affable than expected. The only thing that restored the fear were the lighting fixtures, forged out of the jawlines of various non-sentient predators. The elevator was equally disconcerting. Lined with munitions behind gorilla glass, it was a collection indicative of a loon. The final oddity to complete the trifecta was the PA. Instead of gentle, somewhat-corny muzak – specifications for weapon modules were announced. It wasn’t set up like an advertisement. It was nothing but clear, concise armament descriptions rattled off in monotone. 25 floors left until they reached Sergei’s office and Jay gave his companion one final nudge, “You ready for this, Taha?”

“I’m about to proclaim a stream of lies like some sort of…politician to this weapons manufacturing who is certainly just napping on his laurels to get a shot at helping those in need. What’s worse, if I wow him too much, I’ll probably end up forced to work here permanently. Though, I’m fairly certain the former is worse.”

“Why’s that?”

“Pride tastes disgusting.”