Chapter 1A Chapter by Connor ShaneDedicationI wish to dedicate this book to Nikko, Seth, Gerald, Claw, Mom, and Dad. For showing me how great a true friendship really is...
Part 1: Acts Of Friendship and the Fatal DoubtsChapter 1"I want to give it to you now because I believe it's worth it."
The anthropomorphic kangaroo girl leans against the grey wall of my school, with her eyes scanning the ground. Her tail gently swishes from side to side behind her, like a leaf in the wind. Her purple jacket sits happily over her brown body, with a few of her black stomach furs sticking out at the bottom end of it. Her hands, equal in color to her stomach, are stuffed inside of her jacket pockets, and her shadowy feet stand so lightly on the cement it's almost hard to tell if she's really making contact with the Four Earth. Her dark purple eyes are directed by eternal contemplations, ones that never cease to be on the verge of tears.
"I know that I could have waited until a better time to see you, but I happened to be near here because of a mission, and since the school was ending for the day, I figured why not?" She looks up at me, connecting our gazes together. This always makes my heart jump. I feel a tinge of awkwardness enter my mind, and I scratch the side of my furry blue head without meaning to. Why do we perform such random motions with our limbs when we're nervous? I sometimes wish I didn't, but sometimes it helps. "Fair enough. I appreciate that you've even decided to give it back to me, and I'm happy to see you!" "Really?" "You know I don't lie, Drift. I sort of wish that we could go to the same school, honestly." Why do I feel so embarrassed while saying that? She smiles and stands up straighter. A small tuft of caramel fur perfectly placed in-between her two long ears, one taller than the rest of her head fur, dips to the side ever so slightly. "I do too, so I know how you feel. But, well, that's how it is." Yeah, and I sometimes hate it! I don't think life understands how much happier it would make me if I could learn new things in the classroom with Drift by my side. But I suppose that's a small thing to let bother me. A few seconds pass and Drift sighs after seeing a message on her Connecto-Panel. The medium-sized silver screen attached to a pink leather forearm band glows as it displays a chatroom between her and someone else. Her muzzle, ringed with one black stripe, dips down toward the screen as her lips fall into a frown. "I need to head back to my school. I thought I'd get the rest of the day off, but apparently not." Her voice has a twinge of annoyance in it as if she doesn't want to leave. I feel a rock drop inside of me as my sadness crashes into my body just like usual. "Oh, well, alright. That's fair enough." My friend stretches, delaying the inevitable. We both look across the school's main area, thinking about the many thoughts that form us. Pathway tells me to say my speech to her. I'm not sure if this is a good time.
"Well, uh, you're welcome for the Connecto, and I'll talk to you later?" "Yeah, of course! Thanks again," I say. I glance at my own silver screen strapped to a light blue armband. The Connecto Panel. A gift I probably don't appreciate as much as I should. It's hard to when there's other stuff going on. I take notice of a staff member walking down a hallway. They don't see us. Yet. Other voices echo from within the school. Some people stay really late after they're supposed to have left. Drift glances at one of the school's exits and sighs. "I'll just message you about what happened during the mission," she says. "Ok. I'll be curious to know!" Silence. Neither of us moves. "I should probably get going." "Alright. I need to get going too." At least we can always use online texts to stay in contact. Another thing I barely give enough thought to. "I'll see you later, and I hope you have a nice day!" She repeats my words in her own way and leaves, walking down Building 400's lower outside hallway and out of sight. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that this is always painful, even if it is temporary. I'm never really sure how long it'll be until I can talk to them again. It can seem random. Too random.
I haphazardly rub my face and mentally tell my emotions to calm down. These things called 'feelings' are always so heavy inside my mind, and when I'm upset, they're nearly too much. I try to ignore them by gazing out at my school. I'm standing near some gum-layered dark green metal lunch tables and flickering rusted vending machines. One of the currently closed cafeterias is sitting to my far left, and the black steel main entrance gate to the standing to the school is my diagonal right. About a dozen sand-colored buildings are set up around the quad, and each other create a mini city-like silhouette onto the garbage-stained white cement. The quad has a huge circular patch of pure grass in the center, with tens of scarred brown benches and wrapper-infested green wood tables scattered around it. My school is pretty boring. It has no fancy colors or shiny art pieces to make it stand out like the rest of Core Cylon. I mean, sure, we have some neat paintings put up on the walls on some of the buildings, like the bust of MLK Jr. made out of colored stones that are on the backside of a history bungalow, but I don't feel that those things are enough to make this place look special. It doesn't help when Ilius gives his speeches about how beautiful his school's gardens are or when Ziax slips in a brief analogy related to his school's soccer statues. But I guess this place has a more important job to do.
I barely turn my attention to my Connecto-Panel. The light blue armband gleams in the sunlight, and the silver screen echoes into my eyes. I can't believe I left this at Drift's house floor two days ago. I went over there after school so we could do some studying and game playing. And dinner. Her mom makes wonderful meals. I would compare her to my own mom, but I don't think she'd like that. I guess I was so tired I ended up leaving with just my backpack and hover boots. It's annoying to me how I can remember some things but not others even though all of it matters. I'm so caught up in my thoughts that I jump at the sound of a new voice. "Hey, Similic! You ready to go diving into the depths of our school?" It's a grey wolf with some light red slinking up to his ears, rolling down his muzzle, swirling around his long fuzzy tail, and layering his forelegs and feet. His light brown eyes are bright with intrigue as he walks over and pokes my nose. "Hey, dude, I'm talking to you." I force myself out of my mental state as I respond. "Huh? Oh, yeah, hey, Harlite! I know you were. I was just thinking about something stupid I did on Wednesday." "Did it involve Drift?" "Hm? Whaddya mean?" "Remember when you told me during lunch today that you feel nervous around her?" "That's just because I have zero control over my subconscious." "Well, I've already given you pointers as to how to stop that." "I know, but it's not that easy." I sigh. Why am I always so dramatic? It kind of bothers me. "Man, if I can do it, then you can too. It's all about pushing on." His yellow and blue boots and Panel contrast so heavily with the rest of him it's hard not to stare. "Well yeah. I just wish it could be easier than that." "The amount of times you've said that is incredible." "Is it a bad thing?" "Not really. Just shows how much you-" "You guys ready?" A new voice springs into the equation. It comes from a light blue wolf that has hot yellow dominating his forelimbs, striping his long thin tail, and painting his muzzle. We look identical, except where he has yellow, I have pure white. Well, my tail is entirely white only on the underside, and my ears have white along their backsides and inside tufts. The new member of the conversation walks over to us, a quizzical expression plastered on his face. His green boots and completely tan Panel seem a bit too loose for him. "You remember that we're on a time limit, right?" "Whaddya mean, Jimson?" I ask. "The thing our Language teacher told me. He said that we need to be back with the projection machines before fifteen hundred." I look at the time on my Panel. It's fourteen forty-seven. "Huh. Well, he didn't tell us that when he first told us to do this," Harlite says. "He told me as I was walking back from the bathroom just now," Jimson says. "I still think it's odd that he can't just go down there himself and get the machines. Isn't he supposed to bring them to a truck device or something so they can be carried off?" "Yeah, the officer ordered him to. The school doesn't need them anymore since they couldn't raise enough money on their own to finish them," I say. Which is stupid because it shouldn't be that way. Most schools get great funding, so why not mine? Harlite quickly coughs into his hand and annoyingly faces the quad. "Yeah, and that's no surprise," he says. "Both the fact that the school's incompetent at making money and that our teacher is having us do his job. But regardless, we better get going." He's not wrong. We all agreed to do this. I guess they feel the same desire to help that I do. "Is Curmolae done with his make-up test?" "I think so," Jimson says.
"It's been enough time, I think." Harlite begins to say something, but I cut him off with my index finger. I point past them towards another wolf, who's hustling through the quad grass with an exasperated face. "There he is. Let's go!" I say.
Curmolae's fur is colored by a sea of black that's ringed with horizontal shiny green lines throughout his whole person. His creamy orange eyes are a glowing reflection of the sweetest personality I've ever seen. His white and blue boots and Panel remind me of those feelings again. He waits timidly in the middle of the grass for us to reach him once he sees that we're coming. Once I'm close enough, his ears perk up. "Hi, guys! Sorry about my taking a while. Chemistry is hard!" "It's only been about twenty-ish minutes," Harlite says, "so no big deal. I had to get something from my math class anyway." "Wait," I say. "Jimson, you were in the bathroom for twenty minutes?" "Yes. I had to poop, ok?" "That's a long time to do the número dos," Harlite says. "Almost as bad as the amount of time it takes Similic to eat." "I just like to enjoy my food," I say. And if I eat faster, I throw up… Curmolae chuckles. "Taking a while isn't a bad thing," he says. Harlite gives a tiny shrug. "I guess. Either way, does anyone remember how to open up the quad?" he asks. We all look expectantly at the grass, trying to remember something only one of us knows. Curmolae finds four grey pegs dug into the dirt and presses down on them softly. The ground shakes gently as a small square hole makes itself known in the center of the school.
It's never occurred to me that just anyone, the students who cross this grass every day, could easily press all four of the pegs and open up the hole. It could happen at any time, even by accident, especially by accident. I don't think it's ever happened for as long as I've been here, but it seems to me like a high enough chance to where I question why they would even have an underground storage facility. To save money on upper ground storage? I know some companies do that, but why my school? It might just be one of those weird things that actually end up working. Did the humans ever have schools as weird as we do? I hope so. My friends climb down the ladder that leads further inside the FourEarth in a very specific order: Harlite, then Jimson, then Curmolae, and then me. Why? It's our order for when we're about to enter a possibly dangerous area during a scout mission. Harlite loves to be first, just in case something bad happens, which allows him to do some sort of a cool move that gets him credit later on. What credit? I think it's just credit that he gives himself inside of his head. He doesn't get any extra scouting points from our officer for doing it, even though he sometimes says that he does. Is he lying? I'm not too sure. It doesn't matter either way, though, since it's a harmless thing he enjoys. Right? Although every time he chooses to risk himself for our sake, I feel shards of guilt. And yet I never stop him because I think it's ok. Is it really a good thing to let someone hurt themselves in place of me? I know I always want to try to help, but are those the moments when I fail? I think it is fine. It's been working out so far. I think. "Similic? Are you coming down?" Curmolae's head sticks out of the grass's top, his eyes gleaming with the feeling of maintenance. "We uh, do need your help to bring these machines back to our teacher. Are you ok?" I look at him thankfully as I let out a quick chuckle. One of the few people who actually worry for me. "I'm fine! I just think it is funny how we're going down the same way we do during missions. The same order, as always." Or almost always. I should've said that. Right? "Oh, yeah, that's true, ain't it? I didn't realize that. You're pretty observant, Similic," He smiles extra joyfully at me. I feel myself become a little hot as I awkwardly shrug. "I guess so. But yeah, I'm coming down. I've never been down here before." I begin to lower myself down to the grass. "Neither have I, so it should be interesting!" He climbs down so I can get in. I fit myself into the hole and grab onto the smooth metallic blue ladder that's embedded perfectly within the warm soil. We make our way down into the depths of our school. I'm still not sure if we should be doing this or not. Are we going to get in trouble for this? I don't think so. Are you sure? It could happen. The climb down wasn't anything special. The walls were a simple sea of brown particles, and I saw some sub-worms poking their moist heads out and watching us descend. They buried themselves back into the dirt after they lost interest in us. I wonder if it's nice to be able to dig your way through the FourEarth, not worrying about other people telling you where to go or what to do. Sometimes I wish I could know. Once we got to the bottom, we all checked to make sure that we were ok. We don't have to, but I guess it's just ingrained in us from all of our missions together. We're only level two scouts, but still. We got to be sure we're ok. I'd regret it too much otherwise. We look around, seeing the old, sagging brown walls and the small drops of water dripping down from in-between the muddy bricks and discolored ceiling lamps. This feels like some sort of an ancient mine shaft. Definitely, something that wouldn't be under a school. But here it is anyway. "Ok, so this is creepy. Do they have all of our failed tests down here or something?" Harlite asks. "I almost hope so," I say. "It'd be amazing to see what has counted as 'failure.'" We all laugh a bit. "But what exactly are we looking for? I think I forgot..." And when's the next time I'll forget something important? "The projection bases," Curmolae says. That's the uh, name of them. They're like silver lump-shaped things. I'll let you guys know once we see them." "You should lead us, then," Jimson says. "Since, you know, you know where they are, and stuff." "Oh, ok, but which direction?" Curmolae asks. We all shrug and look around again. We're standing in the middle of a long, corridor-like stretch. We can go right or left. The timeless decision. Our teacher wasn't very clear with his instructions, as usual. I think it's a specialty that most teachers have, not communicating their thoughts to their students properly.
"I'll just choose a direction, I guess." He points south, and we all nod. We agree, even though we don't actually know how or why Curmolae claims to know where the bases are. But considering our history, it seems we don't care. It's better to start somewhere than to just sit here with nothing. We walk onward down the damp hall, trusting our friend. As we go through the underground storage unit, we encounter more sub-animals. Jimson jumps and screams as three sub-spiders scramble past him on the ground. The others and I just watch the little black bugs make their way past us, hurrying towards somewhere. "Are you ok, Jimson? Those things are harmless compared to us," I say. He nods his head as he exhales heavily. "I just hate odd-looking things." And that's an aspect I've forgotten to talk to him about. Will I forget again? Do I even care? We continue on. About fifteen feet later, to Jimson's displeasure, we find five sub-moths all surrounding a singular light bulb on the ceiling that's illuminating a wide-spaced section of the corridor. At the room's opposite end is more of the corridor, leading to more rooms. Jimson stares at the brown specks as they all swish around rapidly through the air. "Can you guys go in front of me, please?" "Those won't hurt you, man," Harlite says. "I know, but just… Please?" "Alright. That's fine!" I step up past him, first, my friends following. Curmolae wondrously gazes at the sub-moths as he goes past the bulb. Jimson begins to profusely thank us as we make it to the second half of the room. We all stop, looking at what's here. I find myself amazed. The whole half of the room is filled with cartoon illusions. There are sixteen projection bases sitting about the floorboards, and they're all on. Streaks of multi-colored lights shoot out from the nozzles implanted into the fronts of the machines, creating life-size images of a variety of cartoon characters. I recognize a lot of them from when I was a small child. There is a white and brown cat with a red scarf named Chip, a grey and white cat with a blue jacket and a tired face named Katnip, a blue tiger with a blue jumpsuit on and a happy face named Koal, a 1930's-inspired black and white demon character named something I can't remember, and many others. They all stare at us, their eyes unmoving and completely fake. Their images flicker, showing the vacant walls behind them. They appear to be in some kind of a frozen state. "Goddamn! These are what the school wanted to use to teach us with?" Harlite says. He walks forward as his voice permeates the room with astonishment. He swipes at the cartoons, his ears drooping back with innocent play. Jimson and Curmolae join into the toddler entertainment, all three of them saying dramatic lines as they act out their favorite scenes. "Similic, do you want to join us?" Curmolae asks. "Similic?" He turns around to find me occupied by something on my Panel. Curmolae walks over to me as the others continue to use their fantasy as a reason to ignore their duty. Only a glance is what they give me before returning back to what they care about more right now. My name is gently called out one more time as Curmolae stops just in front of me. My now stress-induced eyes look up at him, away from Drift. "Something wrong?" I nod my head - annoyed. "It's about Katherine, again. She's not nice to drift. Again." I sigh in aggravation. Curmolae's lips dip into a small frown. "I'm not surprised, honestly. What's happening?" I sigh with added anger as I shut off my Panel. "Just the usual garbage between them. But let's get this over with. I want to meet up with her once we're done." I motion somewhat carelessly towards the machines. Curmolae briefly opens his lips, but he hides the idea away in his head. He just says ok and walks with me back into the mission. "...it is weird, but it's not the end of the world," Jimson says. He and Harlite are now having a discussion over something that has to do with soap. Once I reach them, they stop talking and ask me if I'm ok. I say I'm fine and that we should get going. Do their tones of voice actually sound like they care how I'm doing? My friends and I spend the next five minutes shutting off all the projection bases, turning the room into one of colorless stillness. Who made the mistake of leaving all these things turned on and scattered about in such an unorganized manner? And why am I not surprised, considering this was all set up by my school? My mind still seethes with the thoughts of the text conversation, but I try to ignore it. You know you can't do that. It's important to me, so don't mess it up, or you'll be a failure. We each hold four bases, allowing us to do this in one trip. Maybe that's why our teacher wanted us to go instead of him? Or it could just be our willingness to help. Either way, we have the issue of getting back up the ladder. Once we arrive back to where we started, we look up towards the surface, where the hole is sealed. "Um, is someone pranking us?" Jimson asks. "Maybe a student closed it because they thought it wasn't supposed to be open," Curmolae says. "But I don't think there are any students left on campus. At least, not at this point," I say. "What if it's…" Harlite is cut off by the sound of an adult voice calling to us from the direction we didn't go. We turn to see a shining yellow light emanating from the other end of the corridor, where a figure stands. "Hey, kids!" It's our Language teacher. His pure pink fur layered by a grey shirt and equally gray pants stick out from the light of the sun. His red Panel and boots are busy with white light ornaments. His coyote ears flick up and down, almost as if on alert. "I opened up another way for you all to get out!" "Is this an ok thing to do?" Harlite asks. "Of course it is!" The teacher says. "You're helping me!" Once we get back to the classroom, our teacher explains that he has a remote controller he got from the office that lets him open and closes both underground storage entrances. The one we came out of was a slanted upwards path that exited out onto the football field. It's a good thing we're doing this after school has ended. What would've happened if we were caught in the middle of a game? "Thank you very kindly, young men," he says as we carefully put down the projection bases on his floor. "I just really didn't feel like going down there myself since I hate the feeling that being down there gives me. It's just creepy." "I know what you mean," Jimson says. ' 'I never want to be there again." "Oh wow," our teacher proclaims. "I guess I'm not alone! How nice." He pats Jimson on the back as we say goodbye and leave the room that's basically a mini library. "This has certainly been interesting!" Harlite says. "I also need to go. My mom wants to watch a movie or something with me, and she wants to see it as soon as possible. You know what my mom does when she's angry, so I'm not about to keep her waiting any longer." "Fair enough," I say. "I still think you should talk to her about that." "I wish I could watch a movie when I get home," Jimson says. "I need to go and do homework. I'll see you guys later." We say a sadder goodbye as they head off together as normal towards our school's field-bound exit. Curmolae and I watch as they suddenly halt to read something on their Connecto Panels. Their postures shrink with irritation as they look back at us. "Scout mission!" Jimson calls. I let out a laugh. We've all gotten one during a not-so-preferred moment. It's something we can't complain about, as it's something we willingly chose to live with. How often do I complain about it regardless? They hurry away as they playfully push each other around. Pushing and shoving… I've never done that. "I guess it only involves them," I say. Curmolae and I check our emails, seeing that we don't have any instructions from our officer. Sometimes a mission only requires two or three of us instead of all four. And every time it happens, I want to go with them, but I know it's not about me. Will I ever try to be a part of a mission that isn't mine? That's not what I'd want, right? "Seems like it," Curmolae says. "But uh, do you wanna walk to the living building together?" I've noticed how sheepish he seems when he asks me questions like this. I may have an idea as to why, though I'm not sure if it's true. I don't want to really ask about it, though, since it makes me nervous. Before I respond, I receive a text on my Connecto Panel. It's from Drift. "Are we still meeting at the Synthesis Dimension?" I almost forgot about this. We planned to go together to the famous synthetic garden in Core Marcilin to pick out some flowers for Ninzurith's birthday party. At this point, we're also doing it so I can talk to her about what happened. "Yeah, of course! Sorry, I got occupied with something at school," I text her back. "That's ok! I'm waiting for you in the garden. Don't rush, though! I'm fine." "You sure? I'm heading over there right now." I look back up at Curmolae, who's studying a sub-bug hanging onto the wall. "I wish I could walk with you, but I just realized I have a second thing to do with Drift." His chest falls as his ears do so as well. "Oh, right. Ok. If you want help at all, then you know I'm here. "I definitely know, and I appreciate it! But this shouldn't be too bad, I hope." If only hope was enough. Curmolae struggles to form a quick and nervous smile. "Do you know what flowers you want?" "Not entirely, but I'll figure it out! There are plenty of good options." I turn to head towards my school's main exit.
"Anyway, I'll see you later. It's been fun, and I hope you have a nice day, Curmolae." I begin to walk away. Curmolae's voice stops me before I step down the stairs leading from the upper Language classes to the quad. "Hey um, actually, is it ok if I go with you to the train station?" I face him again. He fidgets with his arms locked together. "You want to?" "Well yeah. I just figured since, well, we could still talk and stuff then. We could hang out there for a bit, and uh…" His ears recline even more as he lowers his anxious eyes to the hard cement. "You know what, never mind, it's stupid. I'm being stupid. Just go." "Curmolae, you aren't stupid. If you wanna come with me, then that's fine!" I can see his body twitch with the doubts. He looks at me with those shining eyes. "Are you sure? I'll just leave. Forget that I said anything." "Hey, dude." I step a little closer to him. "I said that I'm ok with you coming with me, and you know I don't lie." Curmolae wipes his face hastily as he lets out a worried sigh. He seems way too flustered by the situation that he probably intended to create. After three or so seconds, he shyly says, ok. We go down the stairs together as we head towards the rest of our days. Seeing the same streets and same buildings, I end up slipping into the wormhole that is my thoughts. Our school is located in Zonarc, the Third Sector of Core Cylon, my home Core. Each of the eleven Cores has six Sectors. Well, except for Core Oracus and Core Scholas. They each have thirteen, which I suppose is a nice benefit to being structured around a volcano and a mountain range. Each Core is home to millions of furmans, the eleven humanoid hybrid species that now dominate this planet. We're the only intelligent form of life left, now that the humans are extinct from FourEarth. My ancestors decided upon that name because this current period is considered the fourth true era of humans, even though many people don't like the idea that we're connected to them. Some people like to believe it's because the United Cores has an infinite mission to 'fix and grow the planet.' I feel like the latter idea makes more sense, so I choose to believe that one. Apparently, not that many people understand that the United Cores, the place we all live in, was made in a world that didn't always belong to us. We, in a sense, inherited this planet from humans. Not that they wanted us to. They all died before they could see the fruit of their efforts. From what I understand, humans had just begun an age of fully manipulating DNA so they could splice different species' biological coding together to produce never-before-seen creatures. The biggest discovery came when they risked the idea of combining human DNA and sub-animal DNA. I say 'sub' before every natural animal's name because that's how we distinguish between ourselves and another species of nature. We say 'sub' even for animals that aren't sharing a species with one of us. Some people think it's weird, but I don't mind. I just think it's interesting they chose only eleven species. For a reason we'll never know, they selected the wolf, kangaroo, hawk, 'dragon', hyena, snake, tiger, coyote, cougar, fox, and monkey. I put quotations around 'dragon' because, as far as we know, winged dragons weren't actually a thing during the human era. They were just mythical creatures to the humans, but I guess the geneticists felt like taking a risk by trying out a completely artificial strand of DNA to mix with two of their test subjects. Each species had a heterosexual couple injected with one of the specialized animal serums, which knocked them out. The sleeping subjects were put into test tubes inside of a sealed vault that was kept so far inside the FourEarth that no one else knew about it. Why? I'd figure that someone would tell someone at some point, right? Well, school tells us it's because of World War 3. I have no reason not to believe them, so I figure the info is probably correct. A thermonuclear war broke out due to insecurities within the biggest national powers of the human world. The United States, North Korea, and China were the ones who apparently set off the first few bombs that initiated the era-terminating slaughter. From what I've learned in class, it was caused by increased tensions between the countries' governments, all suffering from immature and unable leaders. The countries apparently couldn't sustain themselves in the face of fallacy and misdemeanor as well as they thought they could. Plus, I think the power of DNA splicing was becoming too much to handle as well. What started out with the U.S. politically and periodically bullying China, North Korea, Russia, and other nations over dumb accusations such as 'abuses of friendship with the president' later on turned into a matter of a lack of control and misuse of lab-created animal species and human-plant hybrids, weaponized tyranny meant to maintain leadership, misguided attempts at stabilizing the economy, and improper law decision and execution. It seems to me like the humans weren't ready to handle the newfound power they had with DNA splicing and truly advanced weaponry, on top of everything else that was already going downhill. They were still too silly and block-headed to know how dangerous it would be to mess with powerful capabilities without having a way to control the outcomes. I'm not sure what the rest of the details entail, but I know the rest of the world had to get involved in order to either take advantage of the chaos or attempt to settle things down. What was the outcome of such a war? Every human was eradicated from this planet. The only thing left to carry on their 'legacy' is us. The original twenty-two test subjects, their bodies entirely reformed, were still alive in their containment tubes once the dust and nuclear waste had settled. Most of the natural world had survived, although just barely and with a lot of toxic infection. The Incubator Pods opened many years after they were originally supposed to, finally releasing the subjects around the year 2100. The legend has it that they spent only a couple of months wandering around the ruins of the once-mighty nation, scrounging their scraps to build a new civilization. They took advantage of the left-over technology that survived and their own brilliant minds to erect eleven new countries which they would then populate throughout the years to come. Over the past two hundred years, the eleven Cores have grown immensely, expanding all the way throughout the United States and about halfway through what was Canada and South America. Some species created Cores in areas that wouldn't be possible for their subversions to be in. The best example is the Sethmia Desert, where the kangaroos created their Core, craftily applying technology and the power of trading to maintain their personal wellbeing. Why? I guess they just prefer it that way. I mean, my species, the wolves, made their Core in what used to be the Grand Canyon, now overrun with vegetation. By modern-day, hundreds of thousands of structures dominate the entirety of every Core, with massive border walls surrounding the edges of our lands. Most people didn't use to bother with going outside of the Cores, except for the scouts or military soldiers. Nowadays, every Core has an Outer Ring, the areas of land just outside of the border walls. These Rings are legally part of a Sector, which is different for every Core, and this has allowed us to expand even more. It makes it a lot less lonely knowing there are others outside, assuming a person is close enough to a border wall for there to be civilization still. I guess that sounds dramatic, but I've seen how much of the world is still left unexplored despite our efforts since I'm a scout. Me, Jimson, Harlite, and Curmolae are a scouting team. We may not have even met if it weren't for our shared interest in the scouting business! We all went through two years of class in order to sign up and try out to be scouts. The course is rigorous and sometimes fairly stressful, but there's a reason for that. Being a scout is possibly one of the most stressful jobs a person can have. It's easy enough to apply for, but it's certainly not easy to see it all through. There are five ranks of scouting, with a person starting off as a rank one after having completed their studying and training. Once that's done, the person goes through an online process where they're given a Scout Station and an officer to work for. One of the worst parts is having to meet your new job for the first time and then having to win the mental battle of being a rank one. This period of time is spent by completing a number of training tasks set out by the SCG. In a way, being a first-rank scout is the same as being a student who's still in class, except now there are real-life consequences to the missions we embark on. It usually takes around a year and a half of at least mostly successful rank one mission completions to be eligible for rank two. It's up to your officer to choose when to level you up and mark it down. Each rank after that, up to rank five, takes longer to fulfill. I remember reading that most people don't reach rank five because of how many years are needed to acquire it. Once someone is a rank two scout, they can be given any kind of mission, even ones they aren't exactly ready for yet. The other kids in my group and I are all rank twos, as a person is usually put into a group that also consists of starters. In this sense, it allows the group to level up together, as long as they get along. I think my group is getting close to ranking up, which has me kind of excited. We've been doing missions for a while now, and once we level up, more people might actually listen to us during danger. The way a scout mission works is that our assigned station's officer gives us a task, and we have a set amount of estimated time to get the job done. Usually, they're tasks that require a good amount of mental focus and/or physical strength, like investigating a designated area to map out it or to find specific objects that have somehow been reported to be there amongst the human ruins or something more sociable like helping the police to take care of criminals or diffuse criminal activity inside or outside of the Cores. Once the objective has been completed, we finish it off with whatever's in the mission briefing, whether that be bringing outside findings to a specific company location or simply scribbling a bunch of summary info into a digital report sheet. Our officers usually get these missions from either the Core's Scouting Government or from anyone who decides to contract our station for 'special help.' The last part of any mission, assuming there are zero or little alternative goals on the sides of the scouts, is to report our success/failure to our officer via a 'private' email. The credit we earn is dependent upon those emails and the physical evidence that can be seen of our completion. Some of our missions are fairly straightforward, and they only take less than a few hours. Some of them can be seriously draining, both for the body and for the mind. I honestly like being a scout, normally, since it lets me feel like I'm doing something impactful with my life. I suppose other things I do could be 'impactful,' but scouting is the most 'official,' at least so far. It's hard to get some people to believe that creative storytelling can be an official job. Not every paying and respected job need to involve brutal labor. I often forget how thinking too much about random things can force me into a staggering mental prison. Before I drop off into the abyss of uncertainty again, Curmolae caresses me out of my headspace and places me back into reality. "It's really cute when little kids get so excited over simple things like toys." We're currently passing a bright and bubbly blue toy/video game store. A family of monkeys is walking past us on the shining white sidewalk, the two pink parents happily receiving the delighted squeals of their dark pink young daughter as she swings around a new MegaMan action figure. We're in Inpezar, the first established Sector of our Core. It's incredible how we arrived here from Zonarc in only about two or so hours. That's true, although most Sectors don't take too long to cross, thanks to our hover boots allowing us to dash through the streets at the speed of human cars fully. Some Cores are significantly larger than others, but it's usually not too bad with enough persistent movement. Sometimes we move faster than I realize. Or want. "Yeah, it's nice! It kind of takes me back to when I was about that age. How old is that girl?" I say. "No clue. Around eight, maybe?" "I feel like that might be a bit young." "Twelve?" "Probably too old." "Similic! What age do you think?" "Perhaps eight," I say. Curmolae playfully bops my nose without telling me, causing those fuzzy feelings to fly. He disconcertedly smiles while a fake feeling apology slips out of his mouth. If it wasn't him, I'd maybe tell him to please not do that again. "I can't remember the last time my parents got me a toy, without me asking," He says as we turn a corner. I'm glad he agreed to take a break from dashing for so long. The sun is fully risen in the ever viewing sky, beating down its rays onto the world. There are many people all over the place, either dashing, sitting, walking, or even running. The air feels fairly busy, which is common around this Sector. The many rows upon rows of blue and tan blocky-styled buildings flash their huge and noisy advertisements and reminders. So many companies and mental lives banking on the sales these different yet similar structures rake in. Those who maintain the highest successes dare to appear unique, which is something I love. I just wish it wasn't so overwhelming sometimes. We pass down a few more sidewalks, keeping ourselves in a generally silent state. I have a rising feeling within me that I need to say something to keep things well. It's a thought that's been implanted into my mind ever since Drift began to talk about how she suffers from it. "Have you heard about the play they're going to put on of Liberation Squadron?" My words feel randomly gooey. Curmolae's ears perk up as my idea enters his mind. He's distantly inspecting a sub-bird nest planted in a tree. One of the parents seems to have brought home food for the kids. His face doesn't leave the sight of the aviary family as he gives his answer. "No. I didn't even know that comic is still around! What's it gonna be like?" I feel a quick wave of surprise. Curmolae's fascinated by the way comics are designed, and I can't count the number of times he's quickly mentioned a comic or two during some of our chats. I'd say he finds more interest in those than in normal books. It's something I would assume Drift would love, but that's not the case. In terms of Liberation Squadron specifically, Curmolae sort of got me into the series for a while. I think it's based on a popular comic series that was a thing back during the third era of intelligent life. The last of the humans. "Uh, well, I'm not sure, really. I think it's just gonna be a live-action retelling of the first volume. They're posting online who the actors are going to be, and it's stirring up a lot of tension in the fan base." I can't help but laugh along with Curmolae at this fact. And the sub-birds seem to drop away as a candy store takes their place in our view. "That doesn't surprise me. No fan base can ever be satisfied. It's why I quit affiliating myself with any of them a long time ago. Regardless, I kinda wanna check it out. It might be cool. If it's made properly," Curmolae says. "Heh. Yeah, exactly." Silence. "Although, would you uh…" “What?” “Actually, nothing.” "What is it?" “Nothing, it's nothing. Just an idea, but I think it's stupid." His ears lower a little as he drops his gaze to the cement. Curmolae's tail is always up, no matter what. "I feel like it's not stupid, but I won't pry. You can tell me though if you want." "I know." The two of us continue towards the Cylon train station. I've always wondered where they got the name 'Cylon' from. To be honest, you could ask that about any of the Cores’ names. Maybe it would be easier if I didn't question it, but I like to do so. We decide to get back onto the streets and dash the rest of the way to the station now that we're close. The way this works fascinates me. We use our shoes, commonly called hover or dash boots because it sounds cooler, to go faster than even a sub-cheetah. The United Cores mainly uses vehicles for specific operations like supply transfers and group transportations, though I have seen some people use them in the same way the humans did. Despite this, we apparently have the same street system as the humans, following lanes and intersections and needing to perform hand turn signals and whatnot in order to prevent people from smacking into each other. Many people still die because they aren't paying attention anyway. I've heard that humans had lots of car accidents, which honestly isn't very surprising. Wearing hover boots to rapidly skate through the streets allows for not that many accidents to happen unless it's a purposeful one. I've never seen anything bad happen on the streets, but Drift, Curmolae, and a few of my other friends have told me of their experiences. I feel sorry for them in those moments. Curmolae and I zip onto a left side street, the train station morphing into a clearer image up ahead. The massive border wall looms over us just behind the bustling platform, a false marking painted by thousands of designs and depictions. A bright and vibrant reminder of our history, present, and future. There is no Core without such a feat. A few kilometers later, and we meet the sidewalk once again. We make our way up the stairs and onto the noisy platform; our eyes become engorged with the multiple rows of dark brown leather chairs sitting in front of a humble white pay station as gleaming trains sleep behind it all. A boring grey and white coyote girl sits in the pay station, reading something on her holoscreen. The purple-outlined energy projection floats over the steel counter, acting as a manifestation of her black and green Connecto Panel's screen. This is what allowed companies to sell Panels like disguised drugs. The ability to make a copy of your screen, multiple if you want, in the air, with the power to position them wherever you want within a short radius of your Panel, and still have access to the entire internet and downloadable apps. You can also do this with keyboards and gaming controllers if you buy the apps for them. It became so popular that the Connecto-Panel is now the main source for, well, everything. News, shows, books, comics, video games, websites, anything. Most people don't understand the sheer amount of potential they have with these devices. "Hey, Similic, did you bring your wallet?" Curmolae says this to me as we approach the booth. He still seems fidgety, as if this, walking with me to the train station, is a special moment for him that he doesn't want to mess up. I can't say if I feel the same or not.
"Yeah, and my credit cards in it too. Thanks." This injects a little annoyance into me. Curmolae's reminded me of obvious things that I would've forgotten otherwise more times than I would like to admit. I've mentioned it to him, and every time he says it's ok. They say it's ok, but then they always seem to ridicule me later... I pay the price of four dollars, and we sit down in two seats that are right next to a waiting train. Curmolae is to my right, reading something on his Panel, and to my left are three cougars, all of whom are the exact same sand color, all loudly discussing a recent mass shooting that took place in Sector Thetine, this Core's sixth Sector. I listen in on the details, unsure if what I'm doing is allowed or not. I barely even understand much of what they're saying anyway. The amount of Core-wide news I've consumed in my life so far is embarrassing. I rely too much on my parents to tell me what's going on. I should probably be more in charge of my own news knowledge. Maybe next year. I look at Curmolae. He's naked. This would be unusual if he were a human if he didn't have fur. It's legal for us to be 'naked' in public since we're always covered. Well, except for dragons and snakes, of course. They'd be jailed if they went naked in public. For everyone else, it's only illegal to shave off so much of your fur/feathers that your skin is showing, assuming you're showing it in public. Not that wearing clothes is an issue to anyone, especially when considering the luxury we have with the temperature nanites. Tiny mechanical beads that are interwoven through our attires' threads allow us to not die whenever the weather is imbalanced. They spit out small waves of either cold or hot air, giving us the corresponding body temperature we need to feel comfortable. Every piece of clothing has a small plate containing a series of buttons for turning the nanites on and off and setting the amount of 'coldness' or 'hotness' you want them to release. This makes the idea of clothing even more necessary for us than it was for humans, which I think is interesting. Well, at least in some places. In an area like most of Core Cylon, it's generally a decent temperature, so I don't have to wear clothes all the time if I don't want to. Some people take a lot of pride in what they wear while others only wear something if necessary and everything in-between. I guess I usually just do whatever I feel like. I tend to alternate between being clothed and not. Drift hates being without clothes. Besides the fact that I've never seen her naked, she's also mentioned a few times that fear of feeling unprotected controls her. Curmolae loves the feeling of the air on his body, of being his 'natural self,' as he tells me. When he says stuff like that, he kind of sounds like two of my other friends. People do have their similarities, after all, even if they don't want to realize it. We wait for one of the four trains to be ready to go. Each Core has eight trains that go to and from other Cores. There are four train stations at each compass end of every Core, and they're huge. The vehicles themselves look like metro subway trains from the human eras. The one right next to us is a shiny silver and blue, the yellow sunlight ricocheting off of it like a tennis ball. These are the main method of traveling 'abroad' within our society. I use quotes because, as a scout, I know how much else is out there. I'm not that high of a level, but I've seen things. There is a lot more out there that we have yet to see entirely. I wonder how long it'll take for our society to expand across the planet. Just like they did. I think we'll see it all eventually, somehow, once our governments choose to expand. As we wait, I turn on my Connecto-Panel and check if Drift has texted me through either of the apps we use to stay in contact online. She hasn't. I consider sending a message, but I don't. Even though what's going on with her shoots anxiety into me, I know I'll be seeing her soon. I still feel like texting someone, so I enter a public Comcord server. I love this app. It's based on an old app that the humans had that used a similar name. I don't know what that name is, but I do know that whoever came up with this was a pure genius. It's pretty much what Comcord is, is it's a digital application that lets you join servers that center around almost any topic in the world and talk to other people about those topics. You can text, voice chat, send images and videos, screen share, and generally form memories with the people you meet. There are thousands of servers and hundreds of thousands of users who are, for the most part, very friendly and relatable. I've been able to maintain some great friendships because of this app, Drift being a highlight, which is a lifesaver for me, since sometimes my luck can feel a bit lacking with people. The two main servers that I'm a part of currently are ones called HumanMundio, and AnimeStay. The first is one centered on a community of people who really like humans and wish that they were still real. They make art of themselves as humans, called personas, and share that art throughout the server. They talk and role play together, often using their personas to create grand stories. I don't like making art since I suck at it, but my current novel involves human characters. I think the idea is really cool, and most of the people I interact within the server are way more interesting than the kids at my school. Some of my past schoolmates have teased me about my 'human fetish,' but I try to act like they don't exist. I just think it's cool. What's wrong with that? For me, at least, nothing is. The other server is centered on anime, which started off as a human form of visual art. Certain art companies here in our society have taken up the mantle of making anime, even producing new ones that focus on furple instead of human people. I don't watch a ton of anime, but I think it can offer a great reflection of our mind's inner mechanisms. I feel like more people should watch it. Since then, they might have a better understanding of why some people are the way they are. I mean, I've mostly watched Furple-made anime, but still. Either kind offers something special. At least, that's been my experience so far.
"Dude," Curmolae says. "I made some stupid GIF the other day, and I posted them onto this server." I look over at Curmolae's Panel. On the black chatroom are displayed three short animations. Each of them is a human interacting with different objects. Drinking, eating, and sitting down. "Huh, well, that's cool, dude. I see that you used a black female person," I say. "Yeah. I haven't seen too many images of darker-skinned people on here, so I wanted to add some diversity." He waits as if he's hoping for a compliment of some kind. I know that feeling.
"Fair enough. I'm sure the others on there will like
that.” “That’s their fault, then.” “I mean, I-” A tall black and blue wolf wearing a blue and white conductor's uniform walks over to the middle of the platform. A mechanical whistle sounds, cutting off his voice. He yells that Train 3 is now ready to be filled. I look at my ticket, where 'Train 3' is printed at the top. "Alright, well, it's time." I get up from my chair. Curmolae seems a little deflated. "What's wrong?" “I uh… It’s nothing like I said.” “You sure?” I feel something crack with anxiety within me. Why is it always a puzzle to figure out what they mean? Curmolae hesitantly stands up and sighs loudly. He brushes himself off and turns to face me. His eyes are a tad darker now. Reminds me of how Drift's eyes were back at school. "I'm gonna go. My mom needs me for something, and I can't let her get upset at me for the fourth time this week. It's been fun, Similic." He tries for a warm smile. It comes off as forced and sad. "Yeah, it has been fun. Would you wanna do something later on, if we can?" His ears flip up for a second. "Sure! If you want to." "I'll want to. It's just a matter of if I can. I'll let you know."
People are beginning to fumble onto the train. I really should go. Curmolae doesn't move. He fidgets and plays with his fingers, nervously watching the train. "Curmolae, are you ok?" I ask. He fingers the side of his Connecto Panel. "Uh. Well, it's just… I've uh, e-enjoyed doing this. Coming here and sitting with you, I mean. And talking to you. I enjoy being with you." His ears slowly retract as he says this. I find myself smiling and laughing a bit. This kid is so adorable. He also makes my heart swirl. They all do. Especially ones like this. "I feel the same! I'm glad that you asked to come with me. Seriously. Thanks for keeping me company." I give an upset turn towards the train. "Have a nice one, Curmolae. Cya later." He says goodbye back to me but I don't entirely hear it. I'm busy thinking about Drift, now. I walk away from Curmolae and into the train. I sit down at the very back of the train. I think my fondness for these kinds of areas is cute. Drift and I always sit in the back of trains whenever we're together so we can talk about whatever we want without worrying about others judging us. The solitude can allow me to grow my internal power. I put my backpack down onto the floor and check the pocket of my blue hoodie to make sure that I have my wallet. I do. I look at my backpack. I've always figured that they're fairly unnecessary, given that we have our Panels. A teacher of mine once said that backpacks are still used so we can store 'special academic papers' in them. They're too important to only keep online, I guess. The train whistles again, and the doors close. The vehicle lurches forward, picking up speed as it starts its way to the next destination. Out through the window I see Curmolae standing on the platform, waving goodbye to me. I wave back while trying to smile. I feel a little embarrassed, knowing that he's waving to me specifically. It gives me the same feeling that I get from Drift whenever she does something for me. It makes me feel really tingly and soft. I like it. I hope she's ok. I can't stop worrying. At least he was here to talk to me. I gently lay back in my seat and sigh. It's a nice temperature on the train. A fuzzy coolness. I hear other people chatting and tapping on their Panels, and the faint blow of the air conditioner creates a nice background ambiance. The train doesn't bump up and down like human trains supposedly did since these ones float a few inches off their rails using magnetic repulsion and thrusters to move. I quickly get some homework done before my own Panel goes off with two notifications. One is from my dad, asking how I am. I answer that with the classic, "I'm ok. You?" The other message is more interesting. It's from Ilius.
© 2021 Connor ShaneAuthor's Note
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2 Reviews Added on August 14, 2021 Last Updated on September 28, 2021 Author
Connor ShaneSan Diego, CAAboutConnor Shane is a big writer and reader, but can’t help gaming every now and then. Besides school, his main hobby is writing, such as longer short stories, poems, and flash fiction. Other than w.. more..Writing
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