《Lemur Goes to Forash》


 Chapter One

    Thunder did its thing.


    Rakkel ducked under an awning. Xe fumbled in xir messenger bag for a poncho, grumbling, tail swishing in annoyance. This was not how xe had wanted to encounter Forash Market for the very first time.


    Objects clinked in the messenger bag: Metal rings, small pieces of ceramics, a burnt-out AR device xe''d been meaning to try to repair for weeks now. Stale clothing. Empty food wrappers, which spilled embarassingly out onto the ground. Xe put a foot down on them before they blew away, picked them up, and stuffed them back into the bag. Why, xe asked xirself, haven''t I learned yet to keep the rain gear near the top, where I can actually get at it when I need it?


    Oh, but here it was. Xe pulled it from the pack, shook it out, and donned it. The plastic crinkled noisily. It was bright, cyan blue, with a neon-pink kangaroo on the belly. The kangaroo winked at the viewer in a way that Rakkel always thought was somewhat lascivious, although that hadn''t likely been the designer''s intention. Underneath, the name of the restaurant: "Hoppy''s Harvest - Fine Eatery".


    Rakkel''s ears poked out through two holes in the hood that xe''d torn xirself.


    This was not, Rakkel would be the first to admit - happily, and at great volume - the world''s greatest poncho. It was, in fact, extremely cheaply made, as well as tasteless, and as poorly-sized as a poncho could reasonably be. But it basically worked. The plastic kept rain out. Rakkel''s fur stayed dry.


    "What''s going on out here?"


    Rakkel spun around. The awning xe''d chosen to hide under fronted a little shop or booth, currently closed, a metal shutter covering its service window. The shutter had a long, thin pane of glass in it, and a pair of eye was staring out at Rakkel through this.


    "Hi," said Rakkel, smiling xir most charming smile. "Don''t mind me, I''m just hiding from the rain." Said rain had increased from a spatter to a deluge since xe''d taken shelter here. Xe had to raise xir voice to be heard over it.


    The shutter slammed open. The man standing behind it glared suspiciously out at Rakkel, the rain, the alleyway beyond the awning, and the world in general. His eyes were piggish, and his skin, for that matter, was about as ruddy-pink as Rakkel had ever seen on a stock human. His head took a kind of frustum shape, narrowing to a little spherical hat that sat above his head as though the face were being projected downward out of it. His chin, to the extent that it existed, badly needed shaving.


    "I can go somewhere else if I''m bothering you," said Rakkel. Xe took a step backwards.


    "You one of those weirdos?" The merchant scrutinized xir. His gaze lingered on xir pointy ears, xir stripy, fluffy tail, xir snout, xir big, reddish-orange eyes, xir black and white fur.


    "I''m not sure what you mean," said Rakkel. "Weirdos?"


    The merchant snorted. "Some kinda kangaroo-person, then?" His gaze dropped to the poncho.


    "What? No!"


    "No? Eh... a bat?"


    "A bat? What? Do I look like a bat?"


    "Hey, I can''t see what''s under that poncho. Could be a big pair of leathery, flappy wings or something."


    "I''m a lemur," said Rakkel, who wasn''t entirely unused to people getting this wrong, but wasn''t at all used to them getting it quite as wrong as this.


    "Oh? What''s one of them, then?"


    "We''re primates," said Rakkel. "Kind of like monkeys."


    "Oh." The suspicious glare ran up and down Rakkel''s body again. "Like monkeys? You sure about that? Don''t really look like a monkey to me. Sure you''re not some kind of raccoon or something? Or a squirrel?"


    "Pretty sure," said Rakkel. "Er, listen, I don''t mean to bother you. I can move along."


    "Nah, nah, it''s fine. You''re not hurting nothing."


    At this point, the rain was so thick, it was difficult to make out the alley''s opposite wall. Droplets splashed all over the lower sides of the poncho, and the puddles underfoot had begun to join forces into an increasingly unstoppable-looking army. Already, it had conquered the territory around Rakkel''s bare foot-pads.


    "Listen, do wet leburs smell anything like wet dogs? Only I can''t have you stinking things up around my shopfront, or you''ll drive customers away."


    "Oh... uh... I don''t think we do, but really, it''s no trouble, I can-"


    "Maybe you''d better come in," said the man. "It''ll be much dryer in here." He moved away from the window. Rakkel heard the sound of several locks being unlocked behind the adjacent door.


    Xe ran through several phrases for turning the man''s offer down politely in xir head, trying to decide if any of them would inadvertantly cause offense. Xe debated just running away. Normally, xe didn''t have any trouble dealing with people, but now, in a strange city and with some strange stock-human who, xe thought, was being a little bit more generous than xir expectations deemed plasuible, xe wasn''t on any kind of solid footing. Somewhere around here, xe thought, there was bound to be a hostel or something. Xe should go find it. Probably xe could talk them into putting xir up for one night even without payment.


    The door opened. Apparently, the merchant had been standing on some kind of raised ledge behind the shop''s window, because in the doorway he was maybe two-thirds as tall, and much shorter than Rakkel. He had on an olive-green apron of duck cloth over a loose jacket and flared trousers, and his body followed the same frustum shape that his head implied. He had a stub where his left thumb ought to be.


    He leaned out, peered suspiciously to the left and right, then stepped back and waved for Rakkel to come in.


    "I really don''t want to impose-" said Rakkel.


    "Eh, absolutely not! Come in, come in! I insist!"


    The merchant grabbed xir arm and pulled. The grip, xe, noticed, wasn''t actually very strong. Xe could easily break free from it. And this wasn''t even the hand that lacked a thumb.


    Shrugging to xirself, xe stepped inside.


    The merchant''s store consisted, it seemed, of just the narrow space behind the shuttered window, immediately to the left of the door and up a step. Opposite that, to the right of the door, a similarly narrow staircase ran up and adjacent to the building''s outer wall. The merchant had to angle his body slightly to fit, and even Rakkel, lithe as the lemur xe was, felt cramped. A short ways up, the stairs took a hairpin turn, and doubled back to a room above the front door which was exactly as wide as both flights of stairs combined, and no wider.


    This, evidently, was where the merchant lived - obviously alone. There wasn''t room for a roommate. There was barely room for the merchant himself.


    The only furnishings were a couple of faded, threadbare beanbags on the floor, or so Rakkel thought until the merchant twisted a toggle on the righthand wall, unfolding what had seemed just another piece of wall paneling into a very narrow table.


    "Make yourself at home," said the merchant. "Dunno what lemburs eat, but I''ve got some fixins on the ground floor if you''re hungry. It''s mostly cheap vat-meat, but it''s the best cheap vat-meat this side of Forash, if I do say so meself. Normally I''d charge ya for it, but since you''re a guest, it''s on the house." He smiled. It was the first time he''d smiled since Rakkel had met him, and it only lasted a moment.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "Thanks," said Rakkel. "Famished, actually." Xe gave xir own smile, though xe wasn''t entirely feeling it. Still, any chance to show off xir fangs. Xe was proud of xir fangs. Xe thought they were one of xir cutest features.


    The merchant wasn''t even looking. "I''ll go get my other guest," he said. "Since I''m preparing food and all. The two of you can introduce yourselves. Oh!" He turned around. "Name''s Doople." He extended a hand.


    "Rakkel," said Rakkel. Xe shook it.


    "Never met a legur before. Don''t really know much in general about you lot, actually. Weirdos, I mean."


    "Weirdos?"


    "Yeah, you know. Body modders. Animal people."


    Rakkel shrugged. "We''re just people," xe said.


    Doople had gone to a ladder riveted to the wall on the far side of the room and began climbing it as he spoke. He said something else, but Rakkel couldn''t hear it, since his head was already past the ceiling. Rakkel noticed there were bags and nets hanging from every available inch of the ceiling, in amongst the light fixtures. The nets, xe could see through the holes, held all sorts of objects - candles, books, appliances, unrecognizable gewgaws. Judging from their lumpy, uneven shapes, the bags held similar.


    Rakkel still felt slightly overwhelmed. At least the merchant hadn''t pulled a gun on xir or anything. There''d been this horrifying fantasy playing in xir head in which he lured xir into some abandoned warehouse behind the shop to commit horrible acts of violence in peace and privacy. Evidently, this hadn''t been his intention. Certainly, nobody would want to commit horrible acts of violence in this apartment. There simply wasn''t enough room.


    Neither beanbag being tall enough to reach the table, Rakkel leaned against the wall at its edge. Then, self-conscious of dripping, xe took off the poncho and folded it up again, though xe didn''t put it back in the bag, just in case xe decided to leave in a hurry. Underneath, xe wore just a thin white tunic with a long v-cut neck and a short pair of trousers. Xe typically dressed light over the fur. By xir standards, this was a lot.


    Above Rakkel, on the other side of the ceiling, someone was speaking to someone else. Rakkel couldn''t make out any words. Xe wondered if the room above was wider than this one. Probably not, or else why attempt to use this room as a room at all? It barely qualified as a corridor. Some architect somewhere hadn''t been very good at planning ahead, Rakkel supposed. They''d clearly had some extra space left over on their blueprint and no idea what to do with it. Or maybe the whole building was like this - accordion folds of tiny rooms layered upon tiny rooms, an exercise in pushing the limits of human habitation.


    Doople''s feet reappeared on the ladder. They descended, revealing Doople''s prominent buttocks behind them, and then as he stepped down off the ladder, a second pair of feet appeared above his head. Hooved feet.


    Rakkel''s eyes bulged. This was the last thing xe''d expected.


    The cloven hooves proceeded downward in front of the body of a svelte, pink-skinned, elegantly-but-simply-dressed pig-person, who stepped off the ladder behind Doople, turned around, and gasped in shock. Which made two of them.


    "Two animal people in as many days," said Doople. "How about that, eh? Never seen so many weirdos in my life, and now all at once. I''ll let you two get acquainted while I go fetch dinner." He squeezed past Rakkel and descended the tiny staircase.


    Rakkel mentally re-evaluated xir description of Doople''s eyes as "piggish." Even if it wasn''t kind of offensive, it didn''t seem accurate when compared to the real things, clearly much larger and more expressive than Doople''s behind the pair of tiny, round eyeglasses. Not to mention, the newcomer''s fuzzy, cream-colored skin didn''t resemble Doople''s ruddy pink at all.


    "Hello," the newcomer said.


    "Hi," said Rakkel. Xe gave his grin again.


    "I really didn''t expect to meet another of our kind here," he said.


    Rakkel wasn''t sure xe was anybody''s kind, as such. Especially whatever kind this stranger was.


    "I''m Rakkel," xe said. "I really didn''t expect anything that''s happened to me in this city so far. Which has been rain, mostly."


    "Welton," said, evidently, Welton. "I''m a professional scribe, a collector of rare bugs, and a distant cousin of Doople."


    "Charmed," said Rakkel.


    "He tells me he brought you in out of the rain."


    "Pretty much," said Rakkel.


    "Friendly fellow, isn''t he? Behind it all, I mean. I do wish he''d stop calling me a weirdo. But nobody''d told him what I was until I showed up at his doorstep a couple days ago, and it didn''t bother him at all. I''d never even met him before."


    Rakkel said nothing.


    "Which, actually, is a refreshing change of pace. Nobody back home is happy with me at all. One of the reasons I came out here, actually. Actually, the main reason. Not that I told them that. But they were relieved to get rid of me, I think. Very traditional family."


    Rakkel continued to say nothing.


    "Thought for sure cousin Doople would be a non-stop barrage of jokes about pork and bacon and so forth. Him being in the meat trade, and all. But he hasn''t mentioned it once. Thank goodness. You should hear some of the things my siblings say back home when they think I think they think I''m out of earshot. Sorry if I''m carrying on, it''s just you don''t know how happy it makes me to meet someone else who''s, you know, one of us. I never have before, actually. I mean, there were some at the facility, of course, but they didn''t really count. And that was before I knew what it was like."


    "The facility?"


    "Yeah, you know, where I had it done. The conversion. I don''t have any regrets, of course. It''s the porcine life for me, all the way, for certain. Er. I''m sorry, I''m really overdoing it, aren''t I?"


    "No, it''s fine," said Rakkel. "I just, you know, it''s been a long day. Feeling a little overwhelmed, here."


    Welton nodded. "I take it you''re new in town?"


    "Yeah. Just got in this morning. And then it started raining."


    "Have you gotten a chance to see it yet? The market, I mean. No, of course you haven''t, not with the rain and all."


    Rakkel shook xir head.


    "It''s fantastic! I''ll show you around tomorrow, if you''d like. Assuming the rain lets up. I hope it does - Doople''s apartment is driving me crazy. I don''t understand how he can live here. It''s like being trapped in a picture frame or something."


    Rakkel blinked. "I''ve only just met you," xe said.


    "Yeah, well, you seem alright. Doople clearly thinks so, or he wouldn''t have brought you in out of the rain. And like I said, I''ve never even met someone else who-"


    Doople came up the stairs with a tray which scraped along the walls with every step he took. In the center of the tray stood a steaming bowl surrounded by three cheap-looking plastic bowls and a styrofoam container full of round buns, which also let off a little steam.


    "Dumpling stew," said Doople, proudly. "It''s not fancy, but it''ll fill ya. Best of all, nothing died for it. One hundred percent vat-grown. I can guarantee it - I was there."


    Rakkan stepped aside so he could slide the tray onto the narrow table.


    "Nobody found the stools? Welton, I know I showed them to you last night."


    "Oh, yeah," said Welton, stepping forward. "Some kind of catch over here in the corner, right?"


    "Exactly," said Doople.


    Welton reached down with slender but thick-nailed fingers and did something to the bottom of the table. Four stools unfolded from its bottom surface and extended slightly outward until they were hanging in the proper sitting position.


    Doople set out the bowls and distributed a helping of dumpling stew to each of them, then placed a couple of buns on each plate. "Help yourself to more," he said, "I don''t stand on ceremony here. Or for it. I''m just serving you now while I''m standing up so you don''t have to reach too much. Kinda awkward with this table."


    Rakkel''s stomach growled.


    "Listen," xe said, "this is way too kind of you. Way, way too kind. I don''t even know you or anything."


    Doople grinned briefly again. "Nothing whatsoever," he said. "I couldn''t let anyone stand around in that rain, weirdo or no. Dunno what you''re waiting for - sit down!"


    Rakkel sat. Rakkel ate. The food tasted, in part thanks to the urgings from Rakkel''s hungry stomach, utterly delicious, cheap street food though it was.


    As xe ate, Doople and Welton had a running conversation about some mutual relative, which they left Rakkel totally out of - to Rakkel''s surprise. Xe thought they''d have questions for xir. What was the point, after all, of having a house guest if you didn''t talk to them? But perhaps they sensed that Rakkel wasn''t in the mood to talk. Which xe wasn''t, really. Xe hadn''t know what to expect from Forash to begin with, but if xe had expected anything, this wouldn''t have been it.


    Cheap street food? The meat felt juicy and perfectly tender on xir tongue. The buns turned out to be stuffed with a meat paste, and these, also, had been baked to perfection, a thin, crisp crust over fluffy white bread, and the meat paste delicious and smooth underneath. Doople clearly knew his trade.


    "Of course I don''t object, but will there be enough room?" Welton was asking.


    "Sure. Why not? I can sleep down here. Just don''t step on my face if you wake up before me and want to come down for something."


    "Oh, alright. Then I guess that''s settled."


    "I''ve got some more sheets in one of these bags. Once we''re done eating, I''ll go remake my bunk."


    "What?" said Rakkel. "No, you can''t mean-"


    "It''s still raining," said Doople. "I''m not sending you out in that. We can clear things up with your hotel in the morning. I''m sure they''ll offer a refund."


    "I haven''t got one yet," said Rakkel. "But-"


    "No argument! You''re clearly exhausted, anyway. You''ll sleep here, and you''ll have breakfast with us in the morning, and you''ll enjoy it!"


    "But I don''t even know you! I''ve barely even met you!"


    "What, they don''t have hospitality where you''re from?"


    Rakkel''s eyes were watering, in defiance of xir lemuroid form. "Thank you," xe said. "I really didn''t expect this kindness here."


    "Truly, it''s nothing. We''re civilized here in Forash, after all. At least, most of us are." Doople looked thoughtful for a moment. "At least, I am. But you''ve got to start somewhere."


    After that, they cleared away the plates and bowls, raised the stools, refolded the table into the wall, and brought Rakkel up the ladder to a second room - just as narrow as the one below it - where a pair of vertically-layered cots were built into the far end, accessable only from the foot.


    "Welton''s got the bottom one, so you can sleep on top," said Doople. "Bathroom''s through the hatch just above the ladder. You''ll have to give the pump a few pumps if you want more than a few seconds of water, but once it''s running, it''ll keep going. Gets warmer after about half a minute, too."


    Rakkel hung the poncho up in the bathroom to drip dry. Then xe stripped, climbed into the top bunk, and fell asleep on xir messenger bag in an instant.

 Chapter Two

    Rakkel, a shameless early-riser, climbed from the bunk as carefully as xe could, so as not to wake xir bunkmate. To xir surprise, Welton was already awake and reading quietly. He looked up at xir as xe stepped down to the floor.


    "Morning," he said, quietly, and went back to his book.


    "Morning," said Rakkel. Xe pulled a new pair of pants from xir bag. Xe sniffed the shirt, decided not to bother with it, and put it back. "Is Doople awake?"


    "I shouldn''t think so," said Welton. "He''ll get there eventually. We might have to make our own breakfast, though."


    Having had a good night''s sleep, Rakkel felt refreshed and much less reluctant to lean on the unexpected hospitality xe''d found. "I''ll go down and check out his kitchen, maybe get things started," xe said.


    "Not going to just run away or something, are you?" Welton said it in a friendly, joking tone, but the way he stared at Rakkel suggested a genuine fear.


    "After last night''s dinner? Not on your life! I''ll run away after breakfast, maybe."


    "Don''t run away until after I''ve shown you the market," he said. "Seriously."


    "Aren''t you new around here yourself?"


    "I''ve been here a whole two and a half days already, so compared to you, I''m a native." He twitched his snout.


    "Ha, okay, well, we''ll see." Rakkel climbed carefully over the ladder-hole to get into the bathroom, where xe''d hung up xir poncho to dry. It was just as narrow as everything else - to get to the toilet, one had to step into the shower. Unlike the other rooms, though, this one was built like some kind of garden shed, with thin wooden walls and a roof of some thick, semiopaque plastic that formed a shell over the top, meeting the walls halfway up. Rakkel didn''t see how Doople would be able to stand using it during cold weather, but the way it let the light of morning in had a kind of charm to it, crude though the setup felt.


    Having grabbed xir poncho, Rakkel returned to the bedroom area.


    "What''s with this apartment, anyway?" xe asked Welton. "Someone was confused about which axes square footage is supposed to be measured on."


    "I honestly don''t know. It seemed a little rude to ask."


    Rakkel finished folding the poncho, stuck it into the messenger bag''s lid pouch, and went down the ladder. Xe leapt gracefully over a snoring pile of beanbags and descended to the kitchen area behind the storefront shutter.


    To xir surprise, there was another door here that xe hadn''t noticed the previous evening. It was tucked away behind a very thin refrigerator unit and led into the rear wall, in a direction that until now Doople''s apartment hadn''t shown any indication of extending.


    Xe tried the handle. Of course, it was locked.


    Shrugging to xirself, xe looked around for suitable breakfast fare. The slender fridge unit held several baggies of frozen buns that resembled the ones they''d had for dinner. Xe pulled out some of these and heated them in a toaster oven. They didn''t look as good, when xe''d finished cooking them, as the ones they''d had last night, but xe wasn''t sure what to do about this short of waking Doople to ask him what the trick was. Possibly xe should have thawed them first, or rotated them halfway through cooking, or something along those lines. But alas, the way they were, they''d merely be delicious.


    Xe carried them back up in a tray like the one from the previous night. It took some finesse to maneuver them past Doople''s nest, and then even more to make it up the ladder with a tray in one hand, but nothing Rakkel couldn''t handle.


    "Breakfast," xe said, setting the tray down next to the bunks.


    Welton looked up from his book, grabbed a bun, and went back to reading.


    Rakkel sat down on the floor on the opposite side of the tray and took a bun of xir own. Xe regarded Welton for a moment, expecting questions or conversation, but the pig seemed engrossed in his book.


    Xe took the AR device from xir messenger bag and began fiddling with it. It was an old model, from back when they''d been designed to resist attempts to repair them, but the front panel still popped right off when Rakkel hooked xir hygeine claw into the seam and pulled. This only revealed three asymmetrically-placed screw-wells, though, which looked like they held the two halves of the device together.


    Rakkel started hunting through xir bag for a screwdriver.


    "Is that a Freeview 6M?"


    "Eh?" Xe looked up. "Yeah, it is. You know anything about them?"


    "I absolutely do! I design holos."


    "I thought you said you were a bug collector or something."


    "And a scribe. A holo-scribe. Everyone wants their shop signs or their information panels or restaurant menus or whatever done in holo, but who has the skills for it?"


    "You do?"


    "I do." Welton held out a hand. "Mind if I take a look?"


    "It doesn''t work, though," said Rakkel, handing it over. "I think it has a busted cap or something."


    "Could do."


    Rakkel found the screwdriver in the bottom of the bag and handed it over. Carefully, Welton unscrewed it and pulled the pieces apart.


    "Of course," he said, "it''s a pretty old one. They can be made much smaller and lighter nowadays." He tapped the side of his eyeglasses.


    "That''s an AR unit?" Rakkel boggled. "Your glasses? It''s tiny!"


    "It wasn''t easy to get. For my profession, though... Ah, here we go. Vertex buffer unit''s come dislodged." He handed it back to xir. "Now you''ll have to let me show you around the market: I know someone who can solder it back into place for you."


    "I can solder it myself," said Rakkel.


    "Do you have the tools?"


    "Not with me, no," xe admitted.


    "There you go, then." He slipped a colorful rectangle of paper into his book and tucked it into the pocket of the jacket that hung next to the bed. "I''m happy to set out as soon as you''re ready."


    "Listen, I don''t know what you''re expecting of me, but you''re probably wrong. I''m just a person who happens to be a lemur. Where I''m from, we don''t think that much about body modding. We just do it, if we want to. So it''s not like you and I really have anything in common. Whatever it means to you isn''t what it means to me."If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "Yes we do," he insisted. "Please. I''m not saying we have to become the best of friends or something. But I''ve never ever met anyone else who wasn''t stock human, or close to it. At least, not really. I just want to hang out for the day. Get to know you a little bit." His eyes, Rakkel noticed to xir surprise, were watering, though he was trying not to let them.


    "Okay. Well. I really don''t understand why this means so much to you," xe said, "but I''ll go along, sure. I guess I don''t mind the company."


    "Thank you! Yes! I promise, you won''t regret having me along."


    "We''re sticking to my itinerary, though. I have things I need to get done. In fact, we''d better head out now." Rakkel stuffed the rest of the meat bun into xir mouth.


    "No problem." Welton grabbed a shirt from the duffel by the foot of the bed and his jacket from off the hook. He already had his trousers on. He dressed while Rakkel chewed.


    Having prepared themselves, they descended through Doople''s apartment, again without waking him.


    "Do you have everything?" asked Welton when they reached the front door. "It''ll lock behind us."


    Rakkel nodded and hefted the messenger bag. "Though I do feel bad, not thanking Doople properly."


    "He''s not going anywhere. You can come back later."


    "True enough."


    "He''d probably let you stay for as long as you want."


    "No. That I won''t do. I appreciate his hospitality, but I don''t want to be a burden. Especially not since he''s putting you up already. The first item on my itinerary today is to find a hostel or the like."


    "Very well."


    With that, they stepped out into the alleyway and the rainwashed sunshine of the morning.


    Forash - as cities do - sprawled. It sat on the landscape like the accreted block games of several generations of children left to their own devices in an otherwise-neglected nursery. Not one but two major rivers ran through it, meeting near the center in an entirely artificial and carefully architected mixing pool before separating and ultimately flowing away from the city''s outskirts in entirely perpendicular directions. The rivers were called Aeltspring and Sedgeriver, or Aelt and Sedge for short, and their own complicated history would have filled volumes. Wars had been fought.


    Naturally, the Forash Market sat right in the crotch between the two rivers, although its arms extended across several bridges and around the east side of the mixing pool, and then for a short while along the exiting bank of the Sedge.


    Doople''s vat-meat stall lurked slightly down an alleyway on the northeast periphery of the market, only a couple of blocks from the incoming Sedge and just west of the part of the city where the night-life tended to congregate; many of Doople''s best customers were drunk partiers stopping by en-route to the next bar, or half-aware wanderers stumbling from the smoke dens in search of something to satisfy their munchies before retreating back into the comforting hazes they''d emerged from.


    At this hour of the day, this part of the city was nearly silent. The bars and smoke dens hid, embarassed, from the early morning sun beneath awnings and shutters akin to Doople''s.


    Welton trotted along the red cobbled streets just ahead of Rakkel, pointing out some of the shuttered bars and smoke dens that he''d been to already.


    "That one," he said, "was very interesting. Very interesting indeed. They have live toads housed in these sorts of vertical, cylindrical, tiered terrariums. You can watch them hop around while you smoke."


    "You know, I didn''t really take you for the sort of person who''s into that sort of thing," said Rakkel. "You don''t seem like a druggie. Or a bar-hopper, even."


    "Not normally. At least, I''m not sure if I am. I''ve hardly tried any of it. I had fun the other night. Didn''t much like how I felt afterward, though. But I could never get away with going to any of these places back home. So, naturally, I had to give them a go.


    "What about you, though?" he asked, turning back to look at xir. "You sound like you disapprove."


    "Not exactly."


    "No?"


    "Do any of them do fop-tiger?"


    "Eh? What''s that?"


    "Well, it''s a drug. Of course. One you smoke." Xe spread xir arms out. "It makes big, billowing clouds that you can really, you know, get your head lost in."


    "Not sure, but I bet they might."


    "Could be they call it something different here. I don''t like anything addicting, but fop-tiger''s pretty safe if you don''t do it too often. Though there is a very, very minor risk of heart attack."


    "Oh? Eeh."


    "It''s very minor," said Rakkel.


    "If you say so."


    "If you find that uncomfortable, I''d not go back to those dens if I were you. Some drugs will do a lot worse a lot more quickly, you know."


    "Really? I always thought the, you know, all the warnings were exaggerated. My family''s big on warnings," he said. "They''re very cautious. You should have heard them go on about..." he waved a hand at his body. "Mom still thinks it''s a matter of time before I''ll forget how to talk. Every conversation we have, she ends it with some pointed comment about how she''ll have to learn to understand oinks."


    "Oof. Really?"


    "Yeah, when I had it done, I was this close to selecting ''black sheep'' instead of ''white pig.'' Just to, I don''t know, make my point."


    "Is that why you did it? To disassociate yourself from your family?"


    "No, it wasn''t that. That''d be dumb."


    "Why then? If you don''t mind my asking."


    He was silent for the rest of the block. At the intersection, he waved xir toward the correct street without saying anything.


    "You don''t have to answer that, you know," said Rakkel. "I get it."


    "Oh, no, I want to explain myself. I think if anyone will get it, you might. I''m just trying to figure out how to put it into words. Sorry."


    "Tell me later, then, once you''ve thought it through. Meanwhile, I want to ask you why you''re leading me away from the market. Thought that''s where we were headed." Xe tried not to sound suspicious as xe said it, but xir voice went a little hard towards the end.


    "All the cheap hostels are out this way. Next to the market, it''s just really expensive hotels. All the merchants who come here from far away cities stay there."


    "And how do you know that?"


    "Found out the hard way. Um, see, I didn''t go right to Doople when I got to the city. Actually, I wasn''t going to have anything to do with him, originally. If you see him again, don''t tell him I said that."


    "You weren''t planning to stay with him?"


    "Not exactly. I found a lot of hotels that I couldn''t afford, and then I found one hotel that I could afford but that I really won''t recommend for reasons I''d rather not go into, and then I couldn''t afford anything anymore. So I hunted down my cousin in desperation. Thank goodness he was so willing to take me in..."


    The street narrowed and turned into a twisting avenue between several run-down, blocky-looking buildings of concrete. Bare, dirty solar panels with dangling wiring studded the rooftops.


    "Most of the city''s hostels are around here," he said. "Don''t go to that one in particular." He pointed. That one in particular sat back from the road in a lurking sort of way. "I think there are a few closer to the waterfront, too, from some stuff I overheard. Might''ve passed them on the way in. Or else those were bars. I can take you there too, if you want, and we can find out. It might be good for me to know, too, actually, in case cousin Doople decides he can''t have me around anymore."


    "None of them look very nice," said Rakkel.


    "I don''t think they are, no."


    "No recommendations? Only an anti-recommendation?"


    "I can tell you any number of snobby hotels to avoid, too, if that helps."


    Rakkel shrugged and decided to pick one at random.


    As it turned out, it wasn''t as bad on the inside as it was on the outside. The front gate led to a little courtyard with a very basic and slightly overgrown garden and a withered old tree in the center. It could''ve been creepy, but instead it merely gave the impression that it was trying its best, and if only the soil were a little less dry, or the caretaker a little more dilligent, it would be lovely, or at least acceptably pretty.


    All around the inside of the courtyard, dirty little windows peered down from the building. Most of them had curtains.


    Just outside on the inner door on the far side of the courtyard from the front gate, a little booth sat underneath a big, plastic umbrella. A little woman sat behind the booth. She looked to be asleep.


    Rakkel cleared xir throat.


    "Yes?" said the woman without opening her eyes.


    "I''d like a room, please," said Rakkel.


    "We''re not that kind of establishment," said the woman.


    "Excuse me?" Rakkel looked down at the sign on the booth, which reiterated from the sign out front that this was "Charming Garden Hostel" and listed rates and check-in times and the like. "What kind of establishment is this, then?"


    "No couples," clarified the woman.


    "Oh! We''re not a couple. I only want a room for myself." Rakkel could feel xirself blushing under the fur.


    "We''re not that kind of establishment, either," said the woman.


    Rakkel looked around at Welton, who shrugged. "I promise I don''t shed," xe said.


    "No rooms," clarified the woman. "No rooms for individuals, anyway. It''s three to a bunk, three bunks to a bungalow. Unless you want a suite."


    "What if I want a suite?"


    "You''re out of luck. They''re all full."


    "Okay. Good thing I don''t want one, then. Give me a bunk."


    "Alright. Here''s your key. Seventh floor, end of the hall." The woman nodded toward the top of the booth without opening her eyes. A little plastic card appeared from a slot.


    Rakkel took it. "Thanks," xe said.


    "We close officially at 11:OO, but you can still use the card to get in the front gate," said the woman. Then she lay back in her chair and assumed a posture that clearly indicated the conversation was over, along with any semblance of wakefulness on her part.


    "You might want to check it out first," said Welton. "Make sure it''s clean and all that. I can wait here."


    "I''ll come back later," said Rakkel.


    "Suit yourself. Okay, then we''ll go to the market next. We can get your AR unit repaired." Welton smirked at something - Rakkel wasn''t sure what.


    Rakkel pocketed the card. "Lead on, then," xe said.

 Chapter Three

    "Do you know where I could get a bike?" asked Rakkel as they walked away from the hostel, back the way they came across the cobbled road.


    "A bike?"


    "Yeah. Or even where I could get a bike repaired."


    "Nope," said Welton, happily. "No idea. But I''ll keep an eye out for you."


    This part of the city had wide streets, short buildings, and just enough passers-by for it to not feel abandoned. The air stole crispness from the river nearby and carried its scents to Rakkel''s nose. Xe breathed deep, stretched xir lanky arms out, and relaxed. Xir fur ruffled slightly in the wind.


    The thing xe hadn''t mentioned to Rakkel yet, nor certainly to the lady to the hostel, was that xe didn''t have any money. Not a single... coin? Xe wasn''t even sure what sort of currency people used around here.


    This tension tugged at Rakkel like a helium balloon tied around xir wrist: Free-floating, far away. It made xir feel just a little bit more alive. Sure, it might cause problems in xir medium- to short-term future, but what really made it pop and sing was that it didn''t matter right now. Right now, xe was getting away with it. As opposed to earlier in the day, before the hostel, when it merely hadn''t mattered at all, and xe wasn''t getting away with anything in particular.


    "Let''s cut over a couple of blocks to the river," xe suggested to Welton. "Since we''re following it anyway."


    "Sure," said Welton. "If you''d like."


    They cut over a couple of blocks to the river. It ran roughly two meters below street level here, at the bottom of a steep concrete embankment. An occasional ladder ran down to an occasional wooden pier. On the opposite side of the street stood rows of little shops selling fishing supplies.


    "We''ll hit the market if we keep following this street to the south, right?" said Rakkel.


    "I believe so. As long as the street keeps following the river."


    "I came past here yesterday," said Rakkel, "when I first arrived in the city. Or at least, I think it was somewhere around here. I wasn''t paying much attention. I was too worried about the rain. Actually, I think that''s the bridge I went across." Xe pointed. "It''s nice to see it all properly."


    Along the river, several boats gathered into a minor flotilla. A bang resounded across the water, and the frontmost boat launched a barrage of white and orange flower petals from a pair of cannons. In sequence, the boats behind it launched their own petals, firing again and again until this part of the river was carpeted with orange and white.


    "What''s going on?" asked Rakkel.


    "I''m not sure," said Welton. "Some kind of celebration?"


    "Some kind of funeral," said a voice.


    Rakkel walked to the embankment and looked down. Below them, an old, obese man sat on a makeshift pier of old tires nailed together. His white hair went everywhere across his back and shoulders, but missed a spot right on the top of his head, where his dark skin showed through. The hat that would have covered the bald spot nestled across his drooping chest, clutched in his arms. He was extremely round, almost as wide as he was tall, and sat on the pier in the same way that Doople''s meat buns sat on their tray.


    He craned around to look up at xir.


    "Ah!" he cried, "what vision are you?"


    "Vision?"


    "A slender, halo''d angel? Here to take me at last, are you?"


    "I''m a lemur," said Rakkel. "Not an angel."


    The man squinted. "Oh. Hmm. One of those techno-fanciers. A bio-mod. Pity. You have a lovely silhouette. I bet you were quite handsome as a human."


    Rakkel frowned, but didn''t rise to the bait. Instead, xe said "what was that about a funeral?"


    "That''s what the petals are for. It''s in remembrance of someone. A local tradition. There''s a story behind it - a young gardener, a tragic romance, a motorcycle accident. The traditional line is that the petals clogged the river so thickly, no boats could get through. Except it was the other river. Not this one."


    "I see," said Rakkel, politely.


    "It''ll be me someday," said the old man. "Me who they''ll clog the river with petals for." He nodded solemnly.


    "Are you a fisherman?" asked Welton, coming up behind Rakkel.


    "Aaah!" screamed the old man, his voice suddenly full of mortal terror. "Aaaaaaaaah! Get away from me, monster! Foul monster!" He leapt to his feet as quickly as he could, which wasn''t very quickly. It took him a couple of tries.


    "Woah, woah," said Welton. "What''s wrong?"


    The old man stumbled across the tires to the end of the tiny pier, where he toppled into the water. "Get away from me!" he screamed again. "Foul monster! Demon!" His fat, wide body floated on the river, still in an upright position.


    Welton''s whole body went tense. He started to strip off his jacket, as if preparing to dive into the water after the man, though it wasn''t clear if the man could be rescued by anything less than a trained team equipped with ropes and floats and, ideally, a small raft to use as a base of operations.


    "I think he''s fine," said Rakkel.


    "Is he?"


    "At least he''s clearly not drowning." The man did look distressed, but the focus of his distress was Welton, not the river. He paddled steadily away to the river''s deeper part.


    "He''ll be carried away by the current!" insisted Welton.


    But as they watched, one of the funeral boats broke away from the procession and came for the man. Someone on the boat threw him a rope and then, after a furious negotiation, tugged him over to the river''s far bank, where he climbed ashore.


    "I wonder what his problem was?" said Welton.


    "Scared of pigs, maybe. He called me an angel."


    Welton squinted at the river''s far shore, where the old man had retreated to someplace he couldn''t be seen, then shook his head.


    "What a pointless encounter," he said.


    Rakkel resumed walking down the street. "Pointless?" xe asked.


    "Pointless. Senseless. Dismaying. The old man''s wrong in the head."


    "You''re just offended because he was scared of you."


    "I''m offended, sure. And baffled. And concerned." He hurried after. "I hope that''s not a common perspective in this city. I mean, that he was scared of me. I hope nobody else sees me that way."


    "He was looking up at an unusual angle. He said I had a halo - I think he mistook the way the light hit my fur. So maybe he saw something like that when he saw you, too. Some trick of the light."


    "Maybe."


    The streets narrowed as they approached the market outskirts, as if they were becoming more focused and businesslike. The embarkment by the river, by contrast, had relaxed itself and spread out into an expansive boardwalk. The boardwalk reached farther and farther into the water, taking greater and greater liberties with the river until, just before the place where the Sedge and the Aelt met each other, it seemed to span the river''s entire width.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    "But how do boats get across?" wondered Rakkel.


    "Let''s go and find out," said Welton.


    "Is it on our way?"


    "No, but are we in any particular hurry?"


    "No," said Rakkel.


    "There we go, then." He set off for the boardwalk.


    As they approached, a medium-sized sailboat, clearly loaded with sacks of some cargo, drew near. They stopped and watched as it drifted up to the wooden planks, then began to intersect with them, then seemed to be carried right through them by the current, as if the boardwalk wasn''t even there.


    "Huh," said Welton. "Are they pointing the way through?" He stared at something on the river just past the edge of the bridge.


    "Are what pointing the way through?"


    "The holo-signs. Big arrows floating on the water."


    "Arrows? I don''t see anything."


    "Well, you wouldn''t, would you?" said Welton. "This is why we need to get your AR visor repaired, and soon."


    "Oh," said Rakkel. "Huh. Really? Big arrows that I can''t even see?"


    "Yeah, though it beats me why they don''t just use physical signs. It''d be cheaper than keeping these things running. On the other hand, I still can''t tell what they''re pointing at. Just looks like solid boardwalk to me."


    They walked closer. They were the only people on the boardwalk, and had the distinct impression it mainly catered to the night crowd. Unlit LEDs covered all the posts and booths and fixtures around them.


    Where the sailboat had passed, they saw as they reached it, the boardwalk appeared perfectly intact and whole. Though there were no booths or fixtures in a conspicuous band across the boardwalk''s width.


    "Is it a holo-boardwalk?" wondered Welton. He pulled his glasses up to look under them.


    "Not if I can see it," said Rakkel. "Anyway, why would they make an illusion of the boardwalk?"


    All of a sudden, the boardwalk shifted and buckled in front of them. It remained stable under their feet, though nevertheless there was a shuddering rumble that made Rakkel take a step to keep xir balance, automatically, and totally unnecessarily. A few meters away, however, a whole segment of the boardwalk bowed and dipped down into the water. As it did, another boat came forward and began gliding across the channel that had formed above the submerged wood.


    Rakkel and Weaton stared as it passed. In its wake, the wooden boards rose smoothly back out of the water, little rivulets draining into the cracks between them, until it was as if nothing had happened.


    "Remarkable," sad Welton.


    "That can''t be the easiest way to do that," said Rakkel.


    "No," agreed Welton. "Totally impractical. But stylish."


    "Seems dangerous to me. What if a boat comes along while people are standing here?"


    "I think it only submerges where people aren''t," said Welton. "I''m pretty sure we''re standing right where the first boat went. But the second boat went over there. And given how the booths and things are positioned, there are at least four or five areas that could submerge if they needed to. That''s why they use holo-arrows: To direct boats toward the places where nobody''s standing."


    "Okay, but what if there are people everywhere?"


    "No idea."


    "It is pretty incredible," admitted Rakkel.


    "Must''ve taken a ton of engineering."


    "Is there one on the other river?"


    "No idea," he said again.


    They waited and watched as a third boat came through, this time farther down along the boardwalk.


    "And it happens automatically?"


    "I guess so," said Welton. "I don''t see where the sensors are, though."


    "Maybe it can tell where the pedestrians are from the weight," said Rakkel. "The boats... underwater cameras along the edges?"


    "Sure, probably."


    "Huh."


    "Yeah."


    At last, they made it to the edge of the market proper.


    What Rakkel hadn''t expected was that it''d be quite so tubular.


    Xe''d pictured tents, stalls, multitudinous throngs of people of all shapes and sizes and colors, constant shouting, haggling, strange wares brought from faraway places - all present and accounted for. But this took place in and on and among a series of giant, dayglo-colored tubes of metal or plastic or something. The tubes snaked all up and down the streets, vertically and horizontally, in lines and coils, tall enough and wide enough for several pedestrians to walk through them side by side and still have room along the edges for merchants to display their wares.


    "It''s in here," said Welton, leading the way to one opening in a tube nearby.


    "What," said Rakkel. "What is this?"


    "This is the market, obviously. Stick close to me. It''s easy to get lost."


    Rakkel took a hesitant step forward. "I should think so," xe said. "Why''s it... like this?"


    "Something to do with a more efficient use of vertical space," he said. "Or so rumor has it."


    "I''m not sure I believe that. What even are these tubes? Who built them here?"


    "Are you coming, or not?" Welton marched ahead into the tube.


    The pair of them did not travel quickly.


    Rakkel hadn''t known what to expect when entering the tubes. Xe''d thought there would be stalls along the sides, maybe, or maybe sellers would have their goods laid out on rugs and carpets. It turned out that although there was some of this, the most common arrangement was for the tubes to be built up into shops, with shelves on either side and a passage down the middle - or, often enough, a tiny maze of aisles, which they were required to squeeze through before continuing deeper into the tubes. Sometimes two of these shops would split the tube lengthwise so that they had to choose one or the other to walk through. Several built crude balconies and lofts into the upper part of the tube, with more goods stored on the second level.


    What made everything even more confusing was that the tubes themselves branched and turned unpredictably, so that sometimes what seemed like a quirk of the way a shop was laid out actually led one around an actual bend in the actual tube, making the shop seem impossibly deep.


    Occasionally, they''d find their way out through a break or opening in a tube, and stumble, blinking through sudden sunlight across an outdoor space patchworked with more merchants displaying more goods, until they reached another opening in the tubes and went back in.


    There seemed to be no method of organization. A shop selling clothing in a rugged, outdoorsy style would be located next to a shop selling fresh tubers, would be located next to a shop selling fragments of old-style automobiles, would be located next to a booth with novelty keychains on display. Every bend revealed something new. Welton kept having to double back and pull Rakkel away from a spread of fossils laid out on a rug, or a variety of glow-in-the-dark wall ornaments hung on display in front of blacklights inside a set of black curtains. In one corner of a tube, someone had carefully set up a space for customers to sit and be tattooed with animated ink. Rakkel stopped to have half a discussion with the tattoo artist about the techniques involved, and would have had the other half if xe hadn''t noticed Welton, oblivious, almost going out of sight around the next bend.


    But Welton was leading Rakkel - or so xe thought - farther and farther away from the central part of the marketplace and deeper and deeper into the maze of tubes, which had progressively become narrower and twistier and maybe even dirtier. Really? Dirtier? It wasn''t clear. Maybe Rakkel only imagined it. But xe started to become uncomfortably conscious of how little xe knew about the pig. They''d only met the previous evening, in the presence of a total stranger who also only knew Welton secondhand and had only met him in person a day or so previous to that. Sure, Welton was personable, if excessively talkative sometimes. He seemed friendly and unthreatening.


    The key word there being "seemed."


    If Welton was luring Rakkel into some kind of trap, if he intented to take xir somewhere isolated and do something unpleasant, there was absolutely nobody who knew where they were or would come to xir rescue. Doople wouldn''t be expecting to ever see xir again. Outside the city, xir closest acquaintence was hundreds of kilometers away. Xe was totally alone.


    Of course, Rakkel had intended to come here anyway. Not here exactly, in this particular junction of this particular tube with that particular stall over to the left selling artifical aquarium fish flashing garishly with RGB-cycle rainbows, but at the very least, here in this market. Which spanned a significant portion of the city and would''ve been easy to get lost in even if it hadn''t turned out, inexplicably, to be a literal maze. And which surely had its fair share of dark and dangerous areas, none of which would likely be safer to wander into alone by accident than deliberately with a guide. And if it came to it, xe thought xe could take Welton in a fight. Or at least find an opening and run away.


    But still, xir fur was starting to stand on end.


    They stopped in front of a gap between two merchants'' stalls where the tube was joined by a smaller, darker tube which stuck through a jagged hole that appeared to have been cut into its side by some third party, some time after its initial construction. A black linen curtain hung in front of the opening, stablized with a rod at the bottom. On the curtain''s front, someone had painted or printed a stylized image of a shark in electric blue.


    "We''re almost there," said Welton. "It''s just through here."


    "What''s that?" asked Rakkel, pointing at the shark. "Some kind of... of gang symbol or something?"


    "Ha, no, of course not," said Welton. "It''s just... well, I''m not sure, actually. I assumed it was just decorative."


    "All I need is to borrow an iron and some solder," said Rakkel, "right? To re-seat the... vertebrate buffer thingy?"


    "Vertex buffer unit."


    "Yeah that. So why are we going here? Isn''t there somewhere closer and friendlier that sells that stuff?"


    "Maybe. But Salmidon is an old acquaintence of mine. He''s an expert. If it''s more than just the VBU, he can help you fix it. And even if it isn''t, he might be able to help you improve it."


    "I don''t really want to improve it," said Rakkel, guardedly. "I just want it to work."


    "It''ll need a firmware update for sure, though. Or else it won''t work. Not with anything modern, anyway."


    "Okay. I''m not sure what that means."


    "Don''t worry about it. That''s the point - Salmidon can take care of everything for you."


    "I really thought it was just a bad capacitor, and I could replace it with a new one and everything would work just fine."


    "Yeah, but that''s not what it was, was it?"


    Rakkel sighed and shook xir head. "Fine, but if I wind up having my organs stolen and sold on the black market, you''re paying to replace them."


    Welton smirked. "Deal," he said. He pushed aside the shark-emblazoned curtain and went through.

 Chapter Four

    Just inside the curtain, the tube looked like an old sewer pipe that had been repurposed, or maybe just that had been drained and left otherwise as-is. It was dark, grungy, empty, and lacked the windows and air conditioner units that made the other tubes habitable. But only a few meters in, they turned through an opening in the side, pushed aside another curtain - this one made of draped, sparkling strands of fiber-optic filament - and stepped into something totally other. Rakkel''s jaw gaped. Even Welton stopped for a moment to take it in.


    The room on the other side wasn''t very large, but it looked large compared to the cramped tunnel outside. Its walls were piled with heaps and mounds of what looked like natural stone, crusted with limestone deposits. On top of this, wax candles had been adhered everywhere, slathered with frozen drips and runnels of wax. None of the candles, Rakkel noticed, were lit; the light came from somewhere else. This seemed like a missed opportunity to xir, and a pretty major one. Or was xe missing something?


    Aside from that omission, the effect was total and complete. The floor was covered in smooth, white sand. Even the air felt cool and slightly damp.


    "Good, isn''t it?" said Welton.


    "It''s pretty incredible," agreed Rakkel.


    "Salmidon loves effect. He''s expert at it."


    The white sand wound back and forth around a couple of stone outcrops before vanishing around a bend. Welton led the way deeper into the cave.


    "Come in," said a voice, unnecessarily.


    They went around the bend.


    Salmidon hung from the ceiling in the middle of his lair, a continuation of the faux-cave that spread and rose around them, bulbously. He looked at first like an octopus. This was wrong - obviously, his intention was to look like a spider, and as Rakkel took in more detail, comprehending it piece by piece, the spider came into focus and the octopus receded. Not that Salmidon had a bio mod, or at least not the same sort that Rakkel and Welton wore. His extra legs were mechanical, not biological, and made no effort to look organic. They were all metal and wires and bare circuitboard, wearing their artificiality proudly.


    In the middle, currently inverted, his upper torso hung suspended, everything supported by a network of what might very well have been real spider silk, or pale wiring, or maybe just fishing line used artfully. Whatever it was, it was clearly something strong enough to support his weight.


    He wore rectangular glasses. His short, dirty-blonde hair looked slightly unwashed. His forehead had pimples on it.


    "Hello," he said in the voice of someone who hopes the person he''s talking to is as impressed as he thinks they should be.


    "Hello," said Welton.


    Considering the two of them together, Rakkel thought Welton looked more impressive. His elegant red jacket, his soft fur, the pale cream of his face, all seemed realer than Salmidon''s ostentatious theater. And he had the audacity to be a pig, of all animals, and to make it look good. Though there was some sort of defiant energy there that Salmidon had as well - a willingness to be oneself despite everything. If xir first impression was accurate.


    Rakkel didn''t think xe had that energy. Xe was just xirself, no "despite" involved.


    As Salmidon flipped himself over and lowered himself to the ground, Rakkel saw that the mechanical legs surrounded a pair of flesh ones. The flesh ones looked weak. Almost flimsy, even. As Salmidon reached the floor, the eight spider legs gathered themselves inward and folded around the human legs, taking the weight instead of them.


    "It''s the pig," said Salmidon. "And another freak."


    "Excuse me?" said Rakkel.


    "Er, yes," said Welton. "Um. We have some business for you."


    "Not sure my services are available to freaks," said Salmidon. "And I thought I made it clear the other day, pig, that your presence is unwanted. If you abandon the human race, then the glories of human technology are not for you anymore."


    Rakkel reflected on the fact that just because someone is themself despite everything, doesn''t mean that the thing they are is particularly worth being.


    "Yeah, but I thought maybe, you know... I mean, we''re customers, now."


    "I''ll decide if you''re customers." He stepped forward toward Rakkel. The strands of whatever that had held him suspended in midair were still connected to his legs. As he walked, they jerked and twisted like puppet strings.


    "You," he said to xir. "What are you?"


    "A lemur," Rakkel almost said, and then "a traveller," and then "a person, thank you very much, who has enough self-respect not to take that kind of crap," and then "just leaving."


    What Rakkel actually said was, "I''m not sure. What are you?"


    "Turning the question back on me, are we? Hmm." He put his fingers on his chin in a very deliberate thinking sort of gesture. "What do you think I am?"


    "A human, allegedly" or "a freak, just like us" or "A total nerd" or "so far, not very polite" all went through Rakkel''s head.


    "I don''t know yet," xe said. "Maybe you could show us."


    "Huh. There''s a tack I haven''t seen before." He stepped back. "Frankly," he said, "I can''t stand you animal people. So I''m reluctant to take your business. But since you asked, I suppose I could demonstrate a bit of what I''m all about. I make things," he said, proudly. "Digital things. Magical things. I''m the wiz of gizmos. Whatever you''re looking for, I can give you something better."


    Rakkel still felt off-balance, not sure what to do about this person, or how to feel about him - other than offended, but even that was uncertain, because xe wasn''t sure xe understood what he really thought or whether xe really cared what he thought enough to be offended by it - or what xe wanted from him. He seemed grotesque to xir. And yet, he seemed like a person. Wholly, utterly a person, with all the flaws that came along with being a person. So xe couldn''t totally despise him. Not on some level.


    But even if xe could decide what xe wanted from him, xe then faced the problem of getting that, which was its own whole deal. He seemed to have some sort of complex fragile ego that needed to be carefully navigated. Xe didn''t know how to navigate it and resented needing to. Maybe xe shouldn''t even bother trying. But something had made xir hold back from saying anything to deliberately offend him a moment ago.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    "Freak," though. Really? Really?


    "We want something repaired," said Welton.


    "Repair? Nothing, pah. I can do better than repair. I can enhance, upgrade, replace." He waved his arms. "Show it to me and prepare to be amazed."


    Rakkel fished the Freeview 6M out of xir messenger bag and handed it over, thought not without some trepidation. Xe wondered if xe''d walk out of here needing to go find a new one to purchase somewhere else in the marketplace.


    He took it and carried it over to the wall, unfolding his mechanical legs again as he walked. Without the suport, his flesh legs hung limply. But the mechanical ones made him taller. He lifted himself up with them to a shelf in the wall, where he studied the device.


    "Its vertex buffer unit has come unseated," he said.


    "Exactly," said Welton.


    "And a couple of these capacitors need to be replaced. And the lenses could do with an upgrade, and the firmware is certainly out of date, and the frames are chipped here and here. It''s a piece of junk. I could repair it, but you''re better off replacing it."


    "I just want to-" said Rakkel.


    "Except that it''s a Freeview 6M," he continued, "so anything modern you could find to replace it with would be crap in comparison. They don''t make them like this anymore. They can''t. This comes from the age of luxury, when resources were more abundant. Fortunately for you, you brought it to me. I can repair it easily. And upgrade the firmware. And maybe even replace the lenses with something better."


    "Great," said Rakkel, without much emotion.


    "Come back in a little while. And be prepared to pay. My genius doesn''t come cheap."


    And here it was. Rakkel should''ve been thinking about this problem. Xe''d been distracted, though, and had forgotten it was even an issue.


    "I don''t actually have any money," xe said.


    "Of course not. Like the base animal you chose to become." He scowled. It wasn''t the sort of scowl a real person scowls. It was a stage-scowl, exaggerated so the people in the farthest seats could see it too.


    "Look, I''d rather just do this myself. I was hoping you''d let me borrow your tools for a bit-"


    "Ha! Like I''d let you get your grubby paws anywhere near them. No, it doesn''t matter. I''m committed now. You can pay with money, or you can pay with some form of menial labor, the exact nature of which we''ll determine later. Go away for five hours, and then come back. It''ll be better than new when you return."


    "Fine," said Rakkel.


    Xe left. Welton hurried after xir.


    "Where did you even meet this guy," said Rakkel as they emerged into the greater market area, "and how do you put up with him, and why did you ever think that his service is what I wanted or needed?"


    "He''s not so bad, is he? A little eccentric, I''ll grant you."


    "Eccentric? Or just abusive?"


    "Abusive?" Welton seemed honestly surprised.


    "All that business about freaks and how great humans are. You didn''t think that was abusive?"


    "It''s no worse than I usually get. I suppose he does give it his own special flavor."


    "Nobody else we''ve met today talked to us like that!"


    "How about the man who took one look at me and ran away screaming?"


    Rakkel considered this. "Well," xe said, "but he didn''t call you a ''base animal'' or anything like that."


    "Not in so many words, no. And anyway, Salmidon is a genius."


    "You really think so? You really do think so, don''t you. I didn''t see a genius. I saw a guy who wants you to think he''s a genius, because he''s so insecure."


    "You haven''t seen his actual work, though. Other than his legs. He built those himself."


    "So? I mean, they''re kind of impressive, I guess. But it''s all just... it''s something else for him to hide behind. You know?"


    "He can''t walk without them," said Welton.


    "Yeah, but he built them like that, all spidery, and then he has the gall to call us freaks."


    "Because he''s insecure," said Welton. "Like you said. He doesn''t want us to call him a freak, so he calls us freaks first."


    Rakkel thought about that.


    "Okay," xe said, "but that doesn''t make it okay for him to say it."


    "Look, I don''t know about you, but I knew what I was signing up for when I got the body mod. I knew how my family would react. I knew how everyone else would react. Even cousin Doople keeps calling me a ''weirdo,'' even if there''s no malice in it. I knew I''d need to grow a thick skin. You''re the only person I''ve ever met since then who I''ve felt I don''t need to be, by default, at least a little bit on guard around. Salmidon gives me crap, but he doesn''t mean it as a way of attacking me. He means it as a way of defending himself. Really, it''s all just about himself anyway - not about us. That''s shallow of him, but a fair sight better than some people. I''ve met folks who wanted to hurt me for it, not just insult me. Who wanted to kill me for it. I don''t know what your experience has been..."


    Rakkel looked uncomfortable. "Not like that," xe said. "I come from a family of lemurs. All three of my parents are lemurs. And everyone else in our community is something other than stock human. I got my mod when I was twelve, so I''ve practically been a lemur for longer than I''ve been a human, and even before then, I thought of myself as- are you okay?"


    "No," said Welton. "No, I''m not. I need to sit down."


    The problem with Forash Market was that although any number of people throughout its twists and turns would be all too happy to sell him a chair, the fundamental structure of the area was such that actual places to sit and rest for anyone but the merchants were few and far between. After all, anyone who sat and rested wasn''t looking at merchandise. Which flew right in the face of the whole market''s essential purpose.


    Nevertheless, he found a bare stretch of wall to slide down and squat against.


    "Why would you ever leave?" he asked xir after regaining his composure. "A whole community of people like us?"


    Rakkel felt inexplicably annoyed. "You know," xe said, "you didn''t have to get modded. You could''ve stayed stock human yourself. If having people around who are like you is such a big deal to you."


    Welton looked hurt. "No," he said, "I couldn''t have."


    "Yes, you could have! And then nobody would ever call you a freak or whatever. You''d have your community right here."


    "No! I am what I am. I had to mod, because that''s me. This is me." He touched the tip of his flat snout. "This is."


    "But you keep going on as though you did something brave," said Rakkel, "and now you''re some kind of tragic, oppressed outcast or something, and you totally brought it upon yourself."


    "You don''t understand," said Welton. "YOU don''t understand. You don''t understand?"


    "I guess not," said Rakkel.


    "I thought you understood," said Welton, his voice hollow.


    "That''s not really my fault," said Rakkel. Xe turned away. "Thanks for trying to help me, I guess," xe said, "but I think I can find my own way from here." Xe walked away, leaving Welton slumped in the dirt. He only got up again after Rakkel had left his sight.


    Welton stepped through the door into Doople''s apartment with shoulders slumped. He slammed the door behind himself. Doople hadn''t opened yet - probably just as well, Welton thought. He didn''t want to deal with anyone right now.


    "Welton? Is that you?"


    Though, of course, just because Doople hadn''t opened yet didn''t mean he wasn''t home.


    "It''s me," said Welton.


    "Good! Come up here. I have someone I want you to meet."


    Great, thought Welton. Just what he needed. Someone else to meet.


    "Grab some meat buns while you''re down there," Doople added.


    Welton grabbed some meat buns. He put then in the toaster oven, set the timer as high as he reasonably could without ruining them, and watched it tick down. As the dial turned, he took measured breaths. He''d been looking forward to taking his lousy mood up to his bunk, so he could have a good mope there for a while, but whoever Doople''s new friend was, they didn''t deserve to have Welton''s funk inflicted on them, so he''d have to get it under control.


    If he''d just been angry at Rakkel, it would''ve been easy. Rakkel was far away and therefore made for a defenseless target. Mostly, though, he was just angry at himself, and he was right here. And lonely, besides. He''d been lonely for a while, of course, but he''d gotten used to it. And then Rakkel - for just a short while - had made him feel not so lonely after all. And now... he wasn''t used to it, suddenly. And it stung. And that''s why he was angry at himself, because he''d made all kinds of bad assumptions, and he''d let his defenses down, and he shouldn''t have.


    The toaster oven startled him with its obnoxious buzzing noise. He cursed at himself. He''d meant to use the timer as a focus to calm himself down, and then he''d totally lost track of it. Now he wasn''t calmed down at all.


    Oh well. Nothing he could do about it.


    He took the buns out, put them on a tray, and brought it up the stairs.


    Then he turned the corner, saw who Doople''s guest was, and dropped them all over the floor.

 Chapter Five

    Rakkel wandered the tubes at random for an hour. Xir irritation quickly ran out: It was impossible to maintain it in the face of all the fascinating stuff that was everywhere. And along with the stuff, another thought: Rakkel needed money. Without money, xe couldn''t buy any of the fascinating things. But the merchants were making money.


    Xe''d never been a merchant before xirself. But, Rakkel figured, sometimes the best way to learn things is to do them, thereby getting the opportunity to experience firsthand all the exciting ways there are to screw up so that one can avoid them in the future. Following this principle, xe found an empty spot on the ground (after a good hour of searching,) pulled a picnic blanket from xir messenger bag, laid it out on the ground, and thereby set up a makeshift "stall." Xe didn''t have a lot of things in xir messenger bag that xe was willing to part with. Xe didn''t have a lot of things in xir messenger bag full stop. But xe''d come somewhat prepared with a collection of polished metal rings xe''d made, sized to fit average-sized fingers and inlaid with laquer and plastic in designs that Rakkel, at least, felt were quite fetching. Xe laid them out on the blanket.


    It took no time at all for xir to become completely impatient. Where, xe wondered, were all these people going in such a hurry that they couldn''t even stop and look at a humble lemur''s wares? Especially since they kept turning their heads to stare at xir anyway.


    Xe''d found a spot in a corner of a tube where a series of skylights let in some extra light. Aside from just being a more pleasant area than some of the sections xe''d passed through, xe hoped the light would help show off the rings. Xe''d tried to arrange them so that they sparkled and gleamed in it. Xe''d also tried to arrange them so that they didn''t blend into the blanket''s checkered pattern, but xe wasn''t so sure xe''d succeeded at that. Xe kept looking down at them and miscounting, thinking one had gone missing, and then hunting furiously for it for a few seconds before realizing it was right where it was supposed to be.


    Xe turned to the merchant next to xir, who seemed to be selling plastic toy mice on a wooden rack.


    "Hi," xe said.


    The merchant ignored xir. She sat on a stool with her limbs all bunched up around her, scowling and fussing with the brim of the hat she wore. Random strands of dirty blue-dyed hair poked out from under it on all sides, indiscriminately.


    "Nice day we''re having, isn''t it?" said Rakkel.


    Still nothing.


    "So, how long have you been selling things here?"


    The merchant didn''t even turn and look at xir.


    "They look like, um, mice," said Rakkel. "Except they''re flat. Um. They seem very well made, though."


    At last, the merchant turned her head slowly to face Rakkel.


    "Are you talking to me?" she asked.


    "Yeah. Uh, hi." Rakkel gave xir best friendly smile.


    "Oh."


    The merchant turned her head away again. That seemed to be the end of that.


    On the other side of Rakkel, a couple of long, thin, dark-skinned people were selling something in a cloth booth, but it wasn''t clear what. They didn''t have anything on display on the table in front of them. Also, they were both fast asleep, leaning together pressed tightly back-to-back like a couple of bookends in the library of an illiterate person.


    Rakkel sighed and sat back against the tube wall. Nobody had told xir that being a merchant would be so boring.


    "Hey," xe said to the plastic mouse seller, "can you watch my stuff? I want to get up and take a look around."


    No response.


    Rakkel, who''d been sitting there for all of fifteen minutes, decided that would have to be good enough, because xe''s long, furry legs were starting to twitch of their own accord. Xe stood up, stretched, stepped over the picnic blanket, and had made it a good meter and a half away down the tube before a potential customer walked up and peered curiously down at the rings.


    Xe sprinted back and leapt over the blanket to take up a proprietorial position behind it. "Hey!" xe said, "would you like to buy one of them?"


    "No," said the potential customer, who seemed taken aback by Rakkel''s sudden arrival, "I''m just looking." They immediately moved on.


    "They''re handmade!" Rakkel shouted after. "Unique, artistic designs! Perfect for your... um... fingers!" Xir shouts were lost in the general hubbub.


    Xe sighed and sat down again.


    "You!" cried Welton, spilt buns rolling across the floor around his cloven hooves.


    "You!" cried the figure standing across from him.


    "Eh," said Doople, "I take it you two have met?"


    "You might say that," said Welton, his fists clenching.


    Doople''s visitor slouched against the wall. His pink snout quivered. His pointy ears flopped. The collar of his leather jacket nestled up under a chin which showed all of the pudge that Welton''s didn''t, and - Welton knew without looking - his curly pink tail stuck impetuously out over the waistband of a pair of loose sweatpants that could easily have accomodated it. For some reason, this detail alone made Welton furious.


    Doople looked from one of them to the other in confusion. "I''da thought you''d be happy, Welton," he said. "Another weirdo like you."


    "Havid," said Welton, summoning all the melodramatic energy he could muster, "is nothing like me."


    "Huh," said apparently-Havid. "I should think not."


    "But he''s even the same kind as you, Welton," said Doople. "Another pig."


    "Humph," grunted Welton. "This is the last thing I need today. What''s he doing here, and what will it take to get rid of him?"


    "Delivering a load of bun dough," said Havid. "And vat-mixers. I have a truck around back. Mr. Doople here is part of my regular route. As for what it will take to get rid of me, I''m sure I''ll be out of your perfectly-creamy fur as soon as Mr. Doople signs for delivery. At least until next week. But what, I wonder, would it take to get rid of you?"


    "I''m not getting rid of Welton," said Doople. "He''s my cousin and my houseguest. What''s yer deal, anyway? I thought you two''d be pleased to meet."Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "Havid and I met at the bio-mod facility," said Welton. "We went in on a two-for-one special. Because we both wanted to be pigs. Or so I thought."


    "Just because I won''t adhere to your high-and-mighty ideals," said Havid, "you think I don''t qualify for my own species?"


    "You don''t want to be a pig," said Welton, "you want to be a caricature of a pig. A stereotype. You want to take every last dirty preconception about our kind and- and pile them up and wallow in them! You give us a bad name!"


    "How many of us do you even think there are, Welton?" He grinned sarcastically. "It''s hardly a popular morph. So the way I see it, those few of us there are can define what it means to be a pig however we want. In my case, I want to show the world I''m the sort of fellow who likes to indulge himself. I want to be fat and dirty, in a body that''s meant to be fat and dirty. That so wrong?"


    "Yes! Because that''s not what a pig is! That''s what humans think a pig is!" Welton, underneath his pale fur, was turning beet red. "And you''re just making it worse! And you''re dragging me down with you!"


    "Woah now! Woah now!" said Doople. "Welton, you need to calm down. Thought you''d want to meet this fella, and apparently not, but I have business with him regardless. So whyn''t you go take a hike while me and him finish up. Cool yer head a bit."


    "Cool my head!? I-" Welton took a deep breath, and another. "Yes," he said. "You''re right, actually. I do need to cool my head." He turned abruptly and stomped out.


    Rakkel was beginning to think that this whole "merchant" thing wasn''t all it was cracked up to be.


    Xe''d attracted exactly two customers, including the one who''d been "just looking." Xe hadn''t dared to get up since then. For all the good it''d done xir. The second customer hadn''t bought anything either, though she''d spent an uncomfortable amount of time pawing over the goods, holding each up to the skylights to examine it more clearly. Rakkel had kept xir muscles coiled the whole time, ready to spring forward and tackle her if she tried to run away with any of them, but she hadn''t been a thief, only a nuisance.


    To make matters worse, the day was approaching its midpoint, and Rakkel''s belly was growing impatient to be filled. Xe''d casually assumed by now that xe''d have made enough money to get a snack from one of the many, many food and drink vendors around the marketplace. Earlier, before xir fight with Welton, xe''d even thought there was a chance xe might end up back at Doople''s shop after all, perhaps for a late lunch. But now xe faced the prospect of going through rubbish bins or going hungry.


    To say nothing of the AR device. Xe didn''t really want to go back to get it from Salmidon the Creep. But the alternative was to, well, not go back and get it. And therefore not have it. And it was a gift from xir parents, even if it hadn''t been working even when they gave it to xir.


    Truth be told, xe''d been looking forward to trying to repair it xirself. That had been part of the gift.


    And now xe wasn''t even sure how xe''d pay for it. Xe didn''t think xe''d like whatever Salmidon decided "menial labor" would turn out to mean, but at this rate, xe wouldn''t have any other options.


    A shadow fell over the blanket.


    Rakkel looked up. A tall, slender woman stood over xir. She had on a sleek black dress and a pair of thick-soled boots, beady black eyes, a fang-filled mouth and a gray fin sticking out of her back below her angular, hairless head.


    "Hi," said Rakkel. Xe went for xir trademark charming grin, but couldn''t in the face of the shark woman''s own jagged smile.


    "Hello," said the shark woman in a voice both sweet and gutteral. The gills on the sides of her neck vibrated slightly as she spoke. "I''m interested to know more about what you have to offer." She wasn''t looking at the rings. She was staring right at Rakkel.


    "Er," said Rakkel. Xe gestured hopefully at the rings without shifting the shark woman''s gaze. "They''re handmade," xe said, "with one-of-a-kind patterns designed by yours truly. You know, they''d look quite fetching as fin-piercings, if that''s something you''ve ever considered." Silently, xe congratulated xirself for keeping xir composure and even improvising a sales pitch adapted to the unusual circumstances. Xe''d never even met anything as exotic as a fish morph before, but remembered on the spot that shark fins were cartilaginous, just like ear lobes. At least, xe was pretty sure that was true.


    "I have considered that, actually," said the woman, still staring at Rakkel. "But it''s hard to find jewelry that would look good on my dorsal fin. Most earrings are too small, or else would dangle inappropriately. But surely these are finger rings?"


    The woman''s fingers, Rakkel saw, were webbed. She couldn''t wear finger rings on them.


    "Some of them have clasps," said Rakkel, which was true. "They might be difficult to use as earrings, but you could wear them on a pierced fin without any problems, I should think."


    "Excellent. I''ll buy the lot," said the woman.


    "The lot?"


    "All of them. The whole lot. Even the ones without clasps. I''m sure I''ll find a use for those, also."


    "Oh. Okay," said Rakkel. "Sure."


    There was a pause.


    "I can pay you for them," said the shark woman, "if you tell me how much they actually cost."


    It was at this point that Rakkel realized xe hadn''t ever found out what the local currency was called, much less how much of it would be a reasonable trade for xir goods.


    "The usual amount will be fine," xe bluffed.


    "The usual amount? You''ll forgive me, but I don''t usually buy rings," said the woman. "You''ll have to tell me what that actually is.


    Rakkel wasn''t sure, but thought there was the faintest hint of laughter in the woman''s voice.


    Regardless, xe needed a number and fast. Xe tried to remember the prices of the goods xe''d looked at throughout the day. Xe hadn''t been paying any attention to that, though. It all meant nothing to xir, as long as xe didn''t have any money in the first place. Or so xe''d thought.


    Xe kicked xirself for what, in hindsight, was an obvious lapse in planning.


    "Two hundred apiece," xe said, picking a nice, round number out of thin air and hoping it wasn''t totally insane.


    "Done," said the shark woman. "Package them up for me and I''ll put it on your credit account."


    "I don''t have a credit account," said Rakkel.


    "Ah, I see. I did wonder if you were from out of town." Again, her voice had a faint edge to it that made Rakkel think xe was being laughed at. "Come with me, then, and I''ll pay you with hard currency."


    The shark woman began to walk away. Rakkel, not having anything to package the rings in - xe''d thrown the rest of the empty food wrappers away at Doople''s place - folded them up into the picnic blanket and ran after her.


    Welton agreed that he should cool his head. That didn''t mean that he actually wanted to cool his head.


    He left the apartment and walked down the alley and around the corner to the street where, as he''d hoped, he found Havid''s delivery truck. It was a narrow, low vehicle with three wheels, two to support the delivery bed in the back, and a painfully bright paint job in cherry red and tangerine orange. Isolated. Vulnerable.


    Next to the truck stood a round-bodied, dark-skinned man whose white hair fell down from under a cap across his back and shoulders.


    Welton goggled at him over the tops of his AR glasses. It was inarguably and without question the exact same man from that morning, who''d jumped into the river when he saw Welton. He hadn''t noticed Welton yet here and now, or so it seemed.


    Welton, thoughts of petty revenge forgotten for the moment, crept up to the man using the truck as cover. He wasn''t sure what to do. Should he greet the man? Would the man just scream and run away again?


    "I can see you there, you know," said the man without turning around.


    "Can you?"


    "No demon can hide from me," he said, calmly.


    "It''s just a bio mod," said Welton. "Like my friend''s. Only I''m a pig instead of a lemur."


    "I know what a bio mod is," said the man. "Have one myself, in fact. Doesn''t change the fact that you''re a demon."


    "What''s that supposed to mean, then? What makes me a demon?"


    The man finally turned to face him. "Only the fact that you are one," he said. "It''s as simple as that and as complex as that."


    "I don''t understand," said Welton.


    "I don''t expect you to understand."


    "You jumped in the river before," he said. "When you saw me."


    "I was surprised. And it hardly matters, seeing as how I can float. I''ve lived on that river all my life. I''d rather trust myself to it than to a demon."


    "I''m not a demon, though," said Welton. He wasn''t sure why it mattered what this man thought of him. Clearly, the man wasn''t entirely sane.


    "Is it possible that a demon could not know their own demonhood? I suppose it must be."


    "Look..." oh well, he thought, trailing off. What was the point in arguing? What was he even arguing about?


    "If a demon does not know its own demonhood, perhaps there is hope for it yet... Here, demon. Take this." The man pulled something out of his tweed coat and handed it to Welton.


    It was a banana peel.


    "Is this some kind of pigs-eat-slop joke?" he asked, warily.


    The man had turned away again.


    Welton threw the banana peel into the gutter, knowing that the city''s bio reclamation systems would reclaim it.


    "We won''t see each other again, I think," said the man. He started walking away.


    "Wait," said Welton.


    The man didn''t stop. "Your demonhood is in your hands," he said. "Like everything. Everything is in your hands."


    Welton waited until the man had walked out of sight, down the street and around the corner of a building.


    Then, remembering his original reason for coming out here, he used the hooflike nails at the ends of his fingers to utterly ruin the paint job on Havid''s truck. That''d teach him.

 Chapter Six

    Rakkel wondered just how wise it was, following this shark woman across the market.


    It wasn''t that she was a shark. Rakkel hadn''t a speciesist cell in xir body, or so xe assumed about xirself. It was... well, it was basically everything else about the woman. And the situation. And the particulars of the environment around xir.


    Of course, xe''d been happy enough to go walking off into a strange city with Welton, but he''d been different. Hadn''t he? Or maybe Rakkel just lacked common sense when it came to following strangers around.


    It had occured to Rakkel that the shark woman had agreed to buy the rings before asking their price. Was that strange? The whole matter of buying and selling still qualified as an unfamiliar landscape of its own, as far as Rakkel was concerned. There was something exciting about it all - it made for a peculiar sort of game, the rules of which mostly weren''t concretely defined, and the strategies for which Rakkel still hadn''t even begun to grasp but in a vague, shadowy sort of way. Stepping into the marketplace was like stepping into a sports arena, or - ah, this was it - like stepping onto the board of an enormous board game, and becoming one of its pieces.


    Rakkel''s gut told xir that this shark woman would soon turn out to be one of the players who, to veer the metaphor off into a different lane for a moment, had her initials on all the high score tables. And she''d bought all of Rakkel''s rings. Literally all of them. For a price she hadn''t asked, and which Rakkel had made up on the spot anyway. And Rakkel, noob player that xe was, didn''t have anything to package them in and was about to give away xir picnic blanket for free, which would leave xir without anything to sell xir goods on. Except, possibly, xir lap? But xe didn''t have any goods left, either, so maybe it was okay? Had this woman just made a move that forced xir out of the game? All of a sudden, xe felt shockingly, pathetically stupid. Like xe''d only begun to catch a glimpse of what this thing was, just before it was too late to continue with it.


    Xe hoped 200 monies per ring would at least be enough to get the AR device back - xe had low hopes that it would actually be fixed instead of just broken in a more complicated way, but xe preferred having it to not having it - and to pay for at least a couple of nights at the hostel and, ideally, to buy a meal or two. And xe hoped that this woman would, in fact, pay xir, and not drag xir into a dark corner and harvest xir organs for the black market or something. Which would be a pity, after Salmidon had so courteously passed on the opportunity to do so earlier. And then, once xe''d paid off xir expenses, xe''d... be back where xe started, but without the rings. Or the picnic blanket. And xir bike was still broken, if nobody''d stolen it yet.


    Xe really wasn''t playing this game well at all, xe realized. If only there were a tutorial level somewhere.


    "I''ve been here before," xe said, looking up and suddenly realizing. "I remember that stall with the rainbow fish lights."


    The woman said nothing, just kept walking. Rakkel had been staring at her tail as they walked. It swayed hypnotically behind her. The tip of the caudal fin seemed a beckoning finger with every swish. It''d been hard to take xir attention off it. But sure enough, while xe hadn''t been looking, they''d come to the same place in the same tube where the same black curtain with a neon blue shark on it hung in front of the same tiny, grungy side-tube.


    "How convenient," Rakkel added. Xe stared at the shark symbol but voiced none of xir tangled, confused suspicions.


    Xe''d been reluctant to follow Welton in there, and that was just Welton. Following this shark woman filled xir with all kinds of forboding shivers. But xe ducked under the curtain after her anyway.


    Welton decided to make himself scarce for a little while, and started walking in a random direction, away from Doople''s meat shop, the truck, and the strange man who''d called him a demon.


    Three blocks later, his molten anger had cooled down and now sat in his stomach like a misshapen lump of iron. Probably it was pig iron. He certainly felt brittle enough.


    Petty revenge, of course, had not made him feel better. At all. It had made him feel worse. No matter how much Havid stood as a mockery of his very identity.


    But underneath that guilt, a different guilt lurked.


    He found his steps curving back around toward the marketplace. Where he''d left Rakkel.


    They passed the sparkling curtain of fiber optic cables that led to Salmidon''s caves.


    They passed several other side-passages, also. They passed curtains, and hatches, and a wooden door with white paint on it, and a staircase going up, and a ladder leading downward. Everything was lit only by a series of little plastic LED diffuser disks adhered to the walls - the cheapest possible lightbulbs short of just using the LEDs bare. And then they went around a bend, and instead of those dim, cheap lights, there were bare LEDs after all, but red ones. The red light drained all other color away and made Rakkel unaccountably sleepy.


    "What is this?" asked Rakkel, "a darkroom?"


    "It''s nighttime in the cages," explained the woman.


    "The what?"


    She didn''t answer.


    At the end of this hallway, a few steps led up to another door, this one reflective steel. It reminded Rakkel of the industrial refrigerator in Doople''s shop. The woman unlocked it with a key.


    On the other side, everything was cleaner. Stepping through after the woman, xe found xirself in a wider, taller, squarer hallway with bare walls, bright lights, and even a very matter-of-fact carpet covered in a simple design of gray and black rectangles.


    "Where exactly are we going?" asked Rakkel. Xe still wondered if xe should turn and run. Although this looked less like the sort of place where xe might have xir organs extracted.


    The shark woman who''d hung back as Rakkel stepped forward, shut the door behind them and turned a key in the lock.


    Unless this was one of those really high-class organ extraction facilities, where they harvested organs for extremely important people who demanded sophisticated things like operating rooms that had actually been sterilized, and organs packed for storage in something more reliable than a picnic cooler full of ice.


    "These are my offices," explained the woman. "I think you''ve guessed by now that I''ve brought you here for more than just payment. But you''re in no danger, I promise." She patted xir head between the ears in a condescending fashion. "I have an offer for you, I think."


    "You think?"


    "I haven''t decided yet exactly. I''m assessing you as we go."


    "Assessing me for what?"


    "Suitability," she said. "Come. There''s a more comfortable room over here." She led Rakkel past several glass doors though which Rakkel could see offices and meeting rooms, all dark and with the chairs set upside down on the tables. Some of the chair bottoms had dust on them.


    "Nobody uses these rooms?" asked Rakkel.


    "Not yet, no. In here." The woman led Rakkel through another door into another room. This one was indeed more comfortable than the others. It had an L-shaped sofa in the old style, a low table, and a countertop beneath some white cabinets which held a coffepot and some little cardboard boxes full of tea bags.


    "Would you like some tea?" asked the shark woman.


    "No thank you," said Rakkel. After all, why make it too easy for her to drug xir?


    "Suit yourself. I won''t have any either." She sat down on the sofa and patted the cushion next to her, indicating Rakkel should sit there. Instead, Rakkel pulled up a chair. Xe wouldn''t have wanted to sit right next to the woman anyway, but her thick, fishy tail took up half the sofa all on its own, and xe especially didn''t want to sit on that.


    "I''m pretty sure I''m not interested," xe said. "Whatever it is you''re going to propose. I just want my money, if you''re really going to give it to me."


    "Oh, I never go back on a deal," she said. "Though I admit I brought you here under slightly false pretenses - we don''t use physical coins here in Forash. But I''ll set you up with an account."If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "You don''t use ''hard currency''? Then why did you say...?"


    "I thought you were probably from out of town. I wanted to find out how much you knew. Bold of you, to try to sell something in the marketplace without even knowing what money we use here." Her tone had a note of sarcasm in it.


    "Foolish, you mean," said Rakkel. "But sometimes the best way to learn is to try things."


    "Ah. That''s certainly true enough. Hmm. This changes my estimation of you slightly, in fact. I knew you were bold and ambitious. Now I know you''re at least not as thoughtless as you first seemed."


    This was true. Rakkel was having a thought at that very moment, which was that this was completely insane and xe needed to get out of there.


    "Look," xe said, "I don''t really care what you think of me. Can we just get this over with, whatever it is we''re doing here? Tell me what you want from me already."


    "Like I said, I''m still deciding exactly. But it''s something along the lines of a job offer. I could use someone who''s bold, ambitious, and not entirely thoughtless. I just haven''t decided what job. You thought on your feet well enough, too, under the circumstances. Hmm."


    "I''m not interested," xe said.


    "Don''t turn me down until you''ve heard what the job is!"


    "You just said you don''t even know what the job is."


    "I have a few things in mind," the woman said. "All of them are interesting. And I can pay quite well."


    "You haven''t paid me anything yet," said Rakkel. "Or even told me your name."


    "Oh? I suppose I haven''t, have I? You can call me Mme. Flore," she said, putting an accent on the last syllable.


    "Maddam Flora?"


    "''Madame'' is a title," said Mme. Flore, "and it''s ''Flor-eh,'' not ''Flor-a.''"


    "Okay," said Rakkel. "I''m Rakkel."


    "Good. Then that takes care of that."


    "Between the payment and your name," said Rakkel, "I''d rather have the payment, though."


    "All in good time. Tell me, Rakkel, how long have you had a bio mod?"


    Rakkel blinked. "Practically my whole life," xe said. "Why? How long have you had yours?"


    "So you''re accustomed to your body. Good. Some of the jobs I have in mind for you involve a component of physicality. New mods are clumsy sometimes."


    "Is that why you came up to me in the market?" asked Rakkel. "Because I''m a lemur?"


    "I like to keep an eye on all the newcomers," she said, "but yes, that did draw my attention. There are very few of us around here, after all. It takes an unusual sort of person to change their body so dramatically. Unusual people are often worth getting to know."


    "I guess so," said Rakkel. Xe felt xe''d met nothing but unusual people since arriving in town, present company included, and only some of them had been worth it. Present company excluded.


    "Tell you what," said Mme. Flore, "let''s take first things first and get you that account. Come with me." She stood up again.


    "Where are we going now?"


    "I have a terminal upstairs. We''ll get your account set up. Do you have an AR device?"


    Rakkel wasn''t sure how to answer that question. "Do I need one?" xe asked.


    "You''ll want one, if you don''t. They''re becoming increasingly popular around here. Otherwise, you''ll have to do transactions at terminals. This isn''t like the old days when you could have handfuls of computers to carry around in your pockets, and they''d talk to each other through thin air. But AR devices can do it optically, of course. You just have to sync them with your home terminal at the end of the day."


    "That does sound more convenient," said Rakkel, who didn''t have a home terminal either.


    Mme. Flore led xir out the door and up another set of stairs to a second hallway, and down this hallway to a little blue sliding door, which she slid open to reveal a sleek, black-plated computer terminal which plugged into the wall via a dozen multi-colored cables. She turned it on, then double-clicked an icon.


    "Go ahead and sit down here," said Mme. Flore. "Follow the instructions on the screen. You do know how to use one of these, don''t you?"


    Rakkel nodded.


    "Good. It''ll ask you some questions. Give it your name and a private password, which of course you''ll keep secret. It wants an email address, too - I have one you can use for this. Shows how old the system''s been around, doesn''t it? Back when it was built, those were still commonplace, ha ha."


    "I have an email address," said Rakkel.


    "You do? Really? Within the city of Forash''s computer network?"


    "Yeah. Well, not exactly. We had mainline access back home. My email account is good everywhere - at least, everywhere that isn''t totally isolated. It should work here too."


    "Really?" Mme. Flore looked utterly disconcerted, which clearly wasn''t an expression sharks had been built for, or possibly Mme. Flore either. "Are you sure? I didn''t think that was even still possible. Are you sure you wouldn''t rather use mine?"


    "Might as well use my own, right?" Xe turned back to the screen and started typing. Out of the corner of xir eye, xe saw Mme. Flore watch xir hands intensely. Probably surprised at xir ability to touch-type.


    Rakkel remembered the computer back home. It''d been a hand-crank unit, jury-rigged to an old bicycle and then to a solar-backed battery bank alongside that, upgraded repeatedly with old parts xir parents and other members of xir community had scavenged or traded for, and tethered to a satellite dish that could, on a clear day, get a ping back from several of the major telecommunications satellites that still flew. It lived on a very small bench under the rear window of the rearmost car of the Trolley, surrounded by hanging plants (though none so close that they''d pose a risk of dripping on it when watered,) and Rakkel had spent many happy days of xir youth playing with it.


    So, yes, xe could touch-type.


    That terminal hadn''t had a mouse, and this one did. Xe wasn''t sure how to use it. Xe didn''t seem to need it for anything, though, so xe didn''t worry about it.


    "Can just anyone set up an account?" xe asked as xe filled out the boxes.


    Mme. Flore hesitated. "Most people go to city hall," she said.


    "But you don''t?"


    "It''s not strictly necessary."


    Right, thought Rakkel, so that''s not too dodgy-sounding or anything. Xe had an increasing hunch that part of the point of having xir do this here, under Mme. Flore''s supervision, was so that Mme. Flore could steal or manipulate xir account somehow. But apparently, xe could go down to city hall at some point and set up a real account there. Just so long as xe could transfer the money over without too much fuss.


    "Okay," xe said, "I''ve done it. Now what?"


    "Now I''ll pay your 200 credits per ring. How many of them were there again?"


    I still have them, thought Rakkel. She made me carry them, and I wrapped them up in my blanket and put it back in my messenger bag. Surely she isn''t going to give me the credits without asking for me to hand them over?


    "Eleven," said Rakkel.


    "Are you sure? I thought I saw twelve."


    "Oh - yes, that''s right, there are twelve," said Rakkel. "I forgot," xe lied. Xe wasn''t sure what xe was testing the woman for. If she''d gone along with the number Rakkel had given, would that mean she was dishonest? Or that she genuinely hadn''t counted them? Or that she was too embarassed to correct Rakkel? Probably not that last one. She didn''t seem like the sort for that.


    "So that''s two hundred apiece, times twelve..." She looked questioningly at Rakkel.


    "Two thousand, three hundred total," said Rakkel immediately.


    Mme. Flore hesitated. "You''re testing my honesty, aren''t you?" she asked. "I admire you for it. In fact, I admire you so much, I''ll give you a bonus." She did something with the mouse and a new window appeared on the screen. Rakkel watched her type in "5000".


    "I thought you were the one testing me," said Rakkel. "By asking me to do the math for you."


    "Yes. Is this not life? We all test each other in a thousand different ways, with every word, every glance, every facet of body language. You and I know this better than most: Our very appearance is a test. One of the first things I noticed about you, in fact, is how you reacted when you suddenly looked up to see the big, toothy mouth of a shark bearing down on you from above. So I test you, and you test me, and we get to know each other that much better. Although," she added as an afterthought, "given that this is a job interview, we might both expect for the testing to be more explicit and more deliberate than usual."


    "A job interview? Really?"


    "In fact, I tell a lie. The interview is over. I''ve already hired you."


    "I haven''t agreed to anything," said Rakkel.


    "And I haven''t decided exactly what I want to do with you, either," said Mme. Flore, "so I''m putting you on retainer. See that number I typed on the terminal?"


    "It''s quite a large ''bonus'' for making a deliberate mistake with my arithmetic," said Rakkel.


    "Especially compared to how much the rings are really worth- no, I tell another lie. They are fine craftsmanship. Presented in better context, they might truly fetch the price you asked. Spread out on a rough picnic blanket as though you threw them down on the ground in disgust, I don''t think you could convince anyone to pay you a tenth of that, whatever they might deserve.


    "But I digress," she said. "The number on this screen is your retainer fee. I will continue paying it daily until I have decided what I want to do with you, at which point we can renegotiate."


    "What do you expect me to do until then?"


    "Nothing in particular. Stay in town, be available when I want to speak with you."


    "And what if I leave?"


    "Then I''ll stop paying it." She shrugged her slender, gray shoulders.


    "That''s awfully generous of you," said Rakkel. "Extremely generous. Astoundingly generous."


    "So I''m generous. Is that a problem?"


    "I haven''t actually done anything impressive," said Rakkel. Except, xe thought, refrain from running screaming from the room.


    "You will do, though," said the woman. "You have a touch of destiny about you."


    "Right," said Rakkel. "Destiny. Of course. Are we done here yet?"


    "We are. And don''t worry, I''m not offended. You''re still new in town. Perhaps you don''t even understand how much this amount of credit is worth yet. You''ll have plenty of time to figure it out before I call on you again."


    "Right," said Rakkel again. "Of course." Xe began walking back to the stairs. Mme. Flore followed at a close distance.


    They made it down the lower hallway to the door that led back out into the tunnel. Mme. Flore unlocked it. "I''ll contact you in person when I''m ready for you," she said. "You''ll forgive me if I don''t escort you back to the market tubes. It''s not complicated, though. Just keep going, turn once when the tunnel turns, and keep going again. Don''t go in any of the side corridors."


    "What''s down them, anyway?" Rakkel asked, curious despite xir strong desire to get out of there and quickly.


    "Tenants," said Mme. Flore. "Please don''t disturb their privacy."


    "You called them ''the cages'' before?"


    "I did," said Mme. Flore. She said nothing more.


    None of this satisfied Rakkel''s curiosity, but clearly it would have to do. Xe stepped through the door and started to descend the short staircase.


    "Wait just a moment," said Mme. Flore. "Aren''t you forgetting something?"


    Rakkel looked up.


    "The rings," said Mme. Flore. "You still have them."


    "Oh," said Rakkel. "Of course." Xe took the rings out of the messenger bag and handed them over, still in the blanket.


    Mme. Flore smiled with all her serrated teeth, took the blanket, and stepped back through the door. The lock clicked after a moment.

 Chapter Seven

    "It''s you again," said Salmidon.


    "Yes," said Welton, "it is."


    "I''m not done with the AR unit yet," he said. He stood, legs extended spider-like, just in the entrance to his inner cave, blocking Welton from seeing much of what lay inside. Not that he didn''t already know what it looked like.


    "I''m not here for that," said Welton. "I''m here for my companion."


    "She hasn''t been back here yet either."


    Welton hesitated. "But... she... she will be back, won''t she? I got separated from her. So now I''m going to wait here for her." Something nagged at him about this statement, but he wasn''t sure what.


    "No," said Salmidon. "You aren''t. You''re going to wait outside for her."


    "But-"


    "I can''t have distractions," said Salmidon. "Especially not from filthy beasts like yourself. Imagine, trying to get any work done over the constant oinking! Now, get. Shoo."


    "I don''t constantly oink," protested Welton.


    "Shoo!"


    He shoo''d, albeit reluctantly. He could wait for Rakkel at the shark curtain.


    Welton had first met Salmidon a couple of days earlier, at one of the smoke dens. Salmidon had boasted at great length about his skills as an electronics engineer to anyone who''d listen. Welton, not really believing the man, had played along for the sake of making friends, and because at that precise point in time, his head felt as though it were stuffed with mint-lavender meringue. It''s hard to be disagreeable when you have a head full of mint-lavender meringue. But then Salmidon had shown off his mechanical legs. And then they''d gotten to talking, and Welton said some things about holo-scribing, and Salmidon had gushed about a fancy AR project he''d been working on, which sounded terribly impressive at the time, though most of the details had gotten stuck in the meringue before they made it to Welton''s actual brain. He remembered being terribly impressed, though. And then Salmidon had invited him back to his workshop. Well, not Welton, specifically. He''d invited a whole section of the bar. Most of the bar hadn''t taken him up on it. Welton wasn''t actually sure if Salmidon realized that Welton - and only Welton - had been following him as he stumbled down the streets of Forash back to the marketplace and the artificial cave.


    There hadn''t been any complaints about oinking then. Or at least, not very many. Welton expected a bare minimum of abuse from any stock human, and tended to ignore it. Especially when he had meringue figuratively dribbling out his ears.


    When at last, in the wee hours of the morning, Welton had stumbled back out of Salmidon''s cave, he''d been convinced the two were fast friends. Certainly, whatever gadgets Salmidon had shown him, or whatever subtleties of electronic design, or whatever had happened while they''d been together, had convinced him of Salmidon''s genius.


    Even if now that he thought about it, he really couldn''t remember what any of them actually were.


    And even if, come to think of it, he''d left because Salmidon had started shouting at him to leave. At great length and with remarkable volume.


    He loitered just outside the shark curtain, anxiously scanning the crowds for Rakkel''s fuzzy, pointed ears. He was increasingly certain that he owed her an apology. He was increasingly uncertain that he''d ever see her again. Without an AR device, she couldn''t see the guide arrows that would lead her back through the marketplace to Salmidon''s workshop, so for all he knew, she''d gotten hopelessly lost. For all he knew, she''d been mugged and left for dead in some dark corner of the tubes. He wondered if he should go looking for her.


    The best thing to do, he decided, would be to wait. Give her a chance. She seemed capable enough. Sooner or later, she''d turn up, and he could apologize and pay for the AR device repairs - the least he could do - and maybe they''d wind up being friends after all. Maybe there was still hope for that.


    Hours passed, and he saw no sign of her. He felt hungry. Maybe she''d given up on the AR device. Maybe he should look for her after all.


    Maybe, at the very least, he could get some food.


    But he''d be a total idiot if he went away and she came back while he was eating, wouldn''t he? He should at least try to get Salmidon to cooperate.


    He went back into Salmidon''s cave. "Hey," he called out as he stepped through the fiber optic cables, "I promise, no oinking. I just want to say, I''m going off to get some food. If she comes by while I''m gone-"


    "She''s already been and left, dude," said Salmidon. "She took the AR device, paid in full, and left."The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    "What?"


    "Yeah. Thought you were standing right outside. I guess pigs are blind as well as fat, huh?"


    "Hey, look, don''t-"


    "Listen," said Salmidon, "I told her you were looking for her. Not sure what else I can do, here."


    "She took the AR device?"


    "Yeah."


    "And paid in full?"


    "Yeah. I guess she found some money since this morning."


    "And she left again?"


    "She isn''t here, is she?" He waved an arm around at the cave, which was full of spare electronics parts, shelves, boxes, and in one corner, a beat up old fridge that had some kind of extra bit welded onto the side, the purpose of which Welton could only guess at. But no lemurs.


    "I was standing right in front of the curtain," said Welton. "Right in front of it. There''s no way she could have gotten past me without me seeing."


    "You didn''t go anywhere this whole time?"


    He hesitated. "Not really," he said. He had paced around a bit, gone to look at some of the nearby stalls, that sort of thing. But he''d never gone far enough to lose sight of the curtain.


    "How long ago?" he asked.


    "''Bout half an hour, give or take." Salmidon smirked. "Either you''re blind, or she snuck past you deliberately. You know, I kind of like her. Menial beast though she is. She paid me extra, too."


    "You mean you overcharged her," said Welton. Had she really snuck past him deliberately? What had he been doing half an hour ago?


    "No. She volunteered it."


    "What? Why would she do that?"


    "She didn''t really say. And I didn''t really press her on it. That wouldn''t be good business. What if I made her change her mind?"


    Welton brought his attention back around to something else. There was something Salmidon had said that he couldn''t ignore.


    "I''m not fat," he said.


    "Huh?"


    "I''m not fat. Nor am I portly, husky, pudgy, stout, chubby, or overweight." He patted his trim tum. "In fact, I''d say you''ve got more of a ''front porch'' than I have. Don''t get much exercise when you walk around on mechanical limbs all the time, do you?"


    Salmidon looked confused. "You''re a pig," he said. "Pigs are fat."


    "No. Humans fatten pigs. On farms. To use as food. Or they did, before vat meat was invented. The pigs aren''t naturally fat - the humans make them that way."


    "Uh," said Salmidon, "Sure. Okay. If you insist. Fat, thin, it''s all the same to me. You''re still a beast."


    "Beast I may be, but fat I am not. Please do remember it," said Welton. He stomped out.


    Rakkel''d gone right to Salmidon''s cave after leaving Mme. Flore - why not? It was right there - and picked up the AR device. The first thing xe''d done with it was tip Salmidon the rest of the 5000 credits, after he showed xir how it worked. Xe still wasn''t sure why xe''d done that. It was a sudden impulse that had surprised xir as much as it surprised Salmidon. But it''d made xir feel better for some reason. Like a weight had been lifted. Salmidon, for his part, had been surprisingly gracious about it, and had only insulted xir three or four times; beneath the raw, unbridled anti-body-mod bigotry and the self-absorbed egotism, perhaps there was hope that he was a decent person.


    He''d told xir Welton was looking for xir. That had surprised xir, actually. Xe''d figured it was just possible, at some point in the future, xe''d bump into Welton again, maybe while walking down the street or something, and it''d be unbearably awkward. Xe''d made up xir mind to avoid him. Xe''d assumed he felt similarly.


    If he was really looking for xir...


    Xe hoped he didn''t think xe was a girl or something. That was the problem with having such a slender body shape - people tended to associate it with femininity. And xir voice, though not feminine as such, certainly wasn''t deep enough to sound masculine, either.


    It wouldn''t be the first time that someone had gotten a really, really awkward crush on xir. Rakkel''s usual strategy for dealing like this was to blush furiously under xir fur and avoid the person in question until they either got the hint or just felt so bad about not even being able to get Rakkel''s attention that they gave up in a fit of depression. Xe hoped someday xe might discover a better strategy for the situation. But since talking it through with them like an adult was clearly out of the question - xe could imagine doing something like that, as an outlandish fantasy, but didn''t believe such impossibilities could exist in the mundane reality in which xe lived - xe figured xe could only stick with what xe knew.


    Of course there was always the possibility that Welton wasn''t straight, in which case the risk was that he''d mistaken xir for a guy. That''d be more or less exactly as awkward.


    But xe didn''t really want to think about that right now anyway. There was something else pulling at xir attention: Rakkel simply had to know what the "cages" were.


    So, having re-acquired the AR device, and having shoved it more-or-less safely into the messenger bag, xe set off not for the entrance to the tunnel and the marketplace outside, but back up the tunnel towards the entrance to Mme. Flore''s building.


    There were plenty of side-tunnels down the hall. Most of them were made of the same cheap, corrugated metal as the main market tunnels, just much smaller and without the neon colors painted on them. Some had homemade signs on them made of cardboard or plywood advertising various services, none of which caught Rakkel''s attention as much as the door.


    Xe''d passed it earlier. It''d grabbed xir attention then, but only on a subconscious level. Too much of xir consciouness had its hands busy trying to figure out why it was following a shark-shaped person into the local equivalent of a dark alleyway. Now that that business had been settled, xe could slow down and sort out the other thoughts that had queued for processing during that time.


    There were two things about it that stood out: The first of these was the style. Not that the Forash markets had anything resembling a consistent architectural style, but whatever the style was that they hadn''t got, this wasn''t it. The door put Rakkel in mind of old barns, wide porches, and tornado cellars. Flat, unbroken landscapes with distant horizons. Stuff like that. It looked weatherworn. It had, for crying out loud, splinters. It simply didn''t resemble a Forash door.


    The second thing was the way the paint seemed to glow. No - xe walked up and put a paw up next to it. Light shone onto the white strands of fur around xir palm. It really did glow.


    Xe moved the paw to the doorknob, which was brass and had a slight dent in the side. Xe turned it. Xe opened the door just a crack.


    Music came out. Jazz music.


    Xe opened it wider. Smoke poured out. Rich, thick, herbal smoke, of a scent Rakkel had never smelled before.


    Xe stepped through.

 Chapter Eight

    Welton wanted bananas.


    Something had made him think of bananas, and now he craved them. He knew there was this little banana stand down along Major Big Commerce Pipe that sold artisinal bananas. They had all sorts of crazy, flavored bananas. They had bananas that tasted like peanut butter, or like beef jerky, or like cantaloupe.


    He set his AR spectacles to show the path to it.


    The arrows on the ground led him through the tubes, up and down and around the stalls and shops, until he reached the stand. He''d already been here a couple of times after stumbling across it on his first day. It stood on good territory: Right off the side of the marketplace''s major thoroughfare, or at least one of its major thoroughfares, or at least a segment of tube that would have been one of its major thoroughfares if the constant morass of foot traffic that clogged the tubes at all hours obeyed any real rules or patterns. It wasn''t large, but it didn''t need to be. The tower of striped umbrellas protruding up from the top of the booth like a unicorn''s horn attracted more than enough attention, and its reputation made up for whatever attention that would miss.


    Which meant, among other things, that there was a queue in front of it.


    Just beyond was a used bookstore, set up like so many other sellers'' areas across the entire diameter of the tunnel so that marketgoers had to walk through all of its shelves to get to wherever they really wanted to go. The bookstore had a low ceiling because there was a second floor to it, albeit tiny and rickety and made of mismatched lumber. On alternate days, the banana stand directed its customers to line up into the bookstore. The rest of the time, they lined up in the other direction, around the corner of a t-junction and past rows of tarp-covered tables on which minor merchants set up temporary displays for their knick-knacks. The minor merchants came and went, but the owner of the tables, who made a fortune renting them out, stayed. Technically, he didn''t own the space in which they were set up. That would have gone against the rules of Forash Market, which prohibited claiming space and then renting it out. Instead, he just owned the tables, which were not only very conveniently placed, but also obnoxiously heavy, so nobody who rented them bothered to move them anywhere else.


    Arguments about how the queue should snake its way through the grid of tables were not the concern of the banana stand''s proprietor. They did, however, turn violent sometimes.


    But today, the queue went through the bookstore, which Welton approved of. He squeezed his way to the back of the line and happily browsed titles while the line proceeded forward banana by banana.


    The best part of browsing titles was that it took his mind off the Rakkel situation. If there was a situation there at all anymore. Apparently, the lemur had snuck past him at the curtain, collected her AR device, and snuck out again, either by the mother of all coincidences, or - he had to assume this was the case - because she was deliberately avoiding him. Going well out of her way to avoid him, in fact. He''d mostly been camped right there, right in front of the curtain, and with nothing better to do than watch every person who walked past. And of course, Rakkel tended to stand out. Most people weren''t covered in black and white and gray fur. So she''d only have been able to get past him if she''d timed it perfectly. He imagined her lurking behind a stall, watching him carefully for who knew how long, waiting for him to leave his post so she could make her move.


    He realized he hadn''t read a single book title. He wasn''t even sure what genre this section was for.


    Why did it bother him so much? Couldn''t he just let her go? He''d only known her for, what, 24 hours tops. They''d had a couple of conversations and one walk through the city together. They''d stopped to look at a neat bridge. That was it. He''d gotten her tangled up with Salmidon, but apparently that hadn''t caused any problems for her after all. So much for the apology he owed her.


    Of course, there was also their shared status as body-modders. But though it certainly counted as something they had in common, it was also the issue they''d parted ways over. Rakkel''s experience as a lemur clearly had nothing to do whatsoever with Welton''s experience as a pig. It meant something fundamentally different to her than his identity did to him. Apparently.


    Had her parents really been lemurs too? He couldn''t even wrap his head around that one. He tried to imagine his parents as pigs. Not only couldn''t he do it, but he found he didn''t want to. It felt intrusive, or offensive. They didn''t deserve to be pigs, something like that.


    He''d never asked her, why a lemur? And partly that was because he didn''t want her or anyone else to ask him, why a pig? He couldn''t answer that. In fact, he remembered, she had asked him, and he''d tried to answer her and never did. Certainly, there were ''better'' animals to be. Wolves, cats, foxes, things like that. The facility he''d gone to had had a whole book full of pictures of werewolf-looking people - just the wolves, no other species. People would still call him a freak if he''d gone for a wolf morph, but he suspected it''d be subtly different. People liked wolves. Whereas they had a special sort of contempt for pigs.


    And then you got people like Havid, who reveled in that contempt and all the gross imagry that surrounded it. Who encouraged it. Havid didn''t want to be a pig, Welton thought. He wanted to be the thing people used pigs as a symbol of. Like someone getting an owl morph because they wanted to be seen as wise. But not, when it came down to it, because they wanted to be seen as an owl.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Welton wondered if Rakkel wanted to be a lemur, or wanted to be seen as whatever people saw lemurs as. He had no idea what people saw lemurs as. Cousin Doople hadn''t even been able to consistently remember how to pronounce the word "lemur," so if he was any indication, the answer was that people didn''t see lemurs as anything.


    And maybe that was it - the reason he wanted so especially to get to know Rakkel and have a connection with her. Not just because she was a fellow body-modder, but because she''d modded her body for the same ephemeral reason as he had, whatever that was. It wasn''t just a fashion statement for her. It was an expression of her true identity.


    Except if her parents had both been lemurs, maybe that meant she had a different reason entirely: She was just following in her parents'' footsteps. She might not have even had a real choice. Modded at the age of twelve? Was that even legal? Certainly it didn''t seem ethical, now that he gave it its due consideration. Of course she''d been a lemur. When you''re twelve, you''re still mostly just a continuation of what your parents want you to be, right? You don''t even have an identity yet. Right?


    Unless you were like Welton, whose parents were so awful, he''d been precocious in his rebelliousness. He''d already wanted nothing to do with either them, or the snotty little snob they wanted him to be. But he knew he was quite unique in that regard.


    So maybe Rakkel was the polar opposite of Welton in all respects. Everything he''d thought made them similar came from the place where they were most different. She went all the way through the "Havid" sense of identity and out the other side, where one chose a morph for no real reason at all. Her body-modder-hood was empty. Totally hollow.


    "Well?" said the banana seller. "What''ll it be?" He smirked and added, "we don''t have slop-flavored."


    Welton looked up in surprise. He''d already made it to the end of the line. Quickly, he consulted the menu.


    "I''ll have a chocolate-dipped chipotle," he said.


    Together, they partook in the sacred ritual of the marketplace: Currency was exchanged for goods. Muffled sniggering wasn''t an official part of this process, but since it didn''t technically disrupt the exchange, it was allowed to happen. No gods descended from the heavens to protect Welton''s dignity.


    He walked away in an odd mood, unsure if his negative feelings were more because of Rakkel, or Havid, or just because of the banana seller''s rudeness, or all of the above. Whatever they were, he didn''t care for them much.


    It took Rakkel the length of several heartbeats to realize that xe stood in a hallway identical to the one Mme. Flore had led xir down. The carpet was what tipped xir off: It had the same design of gray and black retangles. The bright lights, however, had been ommitted. Instead, the place fluttered restlessly through the space between ''cozy'' and ''gloomy.''


    The smoky air didn''t help. Nor did the jazz music, which sometimes hit squarely upon that mood of oh, yeah, well, that''s how it is, all right... and then twisted improvisationally away into something eerie, haunting, and frankly unjazzlike. Or so Rakkel felt, although xe''d be the first to admit xe knew next to nothing about jazz. Generally, there were saxophones in it, xe was pretty sure.


    Xe did suspect that it wasn''t being played live. The sound just wasn''t rich enough, and had a tinge of distortion to it. Compression artifacts, maybe. Xe felt mystified, but also that xe was intruding on something. Xe turned to leave.


    Then hesitated. Did xe want to find out what was happening here, or not? Did xe mean to only pretend at curiosity? To come this far and then to back out would be worse than not coming here at all.


    So xe advanced cautiously down the hallway.


    The jazz pulsed and blarted and swung and had fits. It settled into a cool, rainy blues-like mood. An occasional note of disharmony found its way in, as if to keep the listener on their toes, but otherwise Rakkel found it calming.


    Someone had put butcher paper over the insides of the windows and doors leading to the rooms on either side of the hallway. Xe tried a handle and found it was locked. Then xe found a window on which the butcher paper''s edges were curling, and peered through one of the tiny cracks. The room on the other side was unlit, save for splinters of smoky, dim light around the butcher paper''s edges, but as far as Rakkel could tell, it looked exactly the same as the one down Mme. Flore''s hallway. Same big, round table, same black deskchairs inverted on top with their wheels sticking in the air. Same dust everywhere.


    Were the hallways connected? Part of the same huge, old, long-ago-abandoned office building? Probably they were.


    But that didn''t explain the jazz, or the smoke.


    Images flashed in Rakkel''s mind of an ancient music system short-circuiting to life and spewing out the sound of its last-set playlist and the smoke of its slowly melting innards, ready to either collapse into nothing or explode into flames at any moment. But that didn''t seem realistic. Never mind that it''d be unlikely for it to both spew this thick, heavy (herbal?) smoke and actually operate correctly at the same time - what were the odds it''d just started doing that right before xe happened to decide on a whim to do a bit of light trespassing?


    The music and the smoke both grew thicker as xe proceeded down the hallway. Xe was glad for the thick, dusty carpeting, light on xir feet though xe was. Whoever was listening to the music - because there must be someone, right? Not to mention whoever was smoking the joint, or cigar, or severely mishandling the e-cigarette, or whatever was going on in there - seemed to be at the very end of the hallway. Certainly, the smoke grew thicker and the music grew louder as Rakkel got farther down it.


    The jazz took another turn, into a faster, more upbeat style. The dischordant notes came more and more often. Was it meant to go like that?


    Xe thought for a moment it was all coming from the local instance of the lounge room where xe hadn''t had any tea with Mme. Flore, but then xe passed it and still hadn''t reached a source.


    At this point, the smoke had gotten so thick xe walked with one hand over xir snout and the other outstretched. Xe stopped for a moment to pull a handkerchief out of xir messenger bag and tie it around xir face. This helped somewhat, but only somewhat. At least now xe could use both of xir arms to feel xir way forward.


    Xe couldn''t even remember what had been at the end of the hallway. Only that it hadn''t gone much farther after the lounge. They''d walked back up it towards the entrance a bit to get to the second floor. Maybe there had been just one more door on the right? Xe went over and started feeling along the right wall.


    Xe found a handle. Xe turned it.

 Chapter Nine

    The door opened.


    Xe stepped forward, shrieked, and leapt back. Something had moved straight towards xir out of the smoke.


    The music stopped.


    Xe froze into a defensive crouch. Whatever had moved towards xir was still in there. Xe waited a moment for something to happen. When nothing did - except the music had stopped, and xe was trying xir best not to break into full-blown panic - xe stepped forward again, leg trembling.


    It was a coat. A big, thick, blue business coat, hanging from a hook. It hadn''t moved towards xir after all, it''d just seemed that way in the swirling smoke. Its thick sleeve had loomed suddenly.


    Was this a coat closet?


    A voice said "Hello?" from somewhere behind her. A deep, smooth, confident voice.


    Startled out of xir mind and operating on pure instinct, xe ducked into the closet and closed the door behind xir. Two more coats, one in black and one a sort of velvety maroon that reminded xir of Welton''s red jacket, hung next to the first. None of them had dust on them.


    Muffled footsteps approached across the carpet outside the door. "Hello?" the voice said again. "Is everything okay out here?"


    Another voice said, "it must''ve been the music, Guy. It just sounded like someone shouting in the background."


    "I''ve listened to that album a thousand times," said the first voice, "and I''ve never heard a shriek like that."


    Maybe xe should reveal xirself? If xe was caught hiding in a closet, wouldn''t that look worse than if xe stepped forward and introduced xirself, boldly?


    "You think we''ve got eavesdroppers?" asked the second voice.


    "If we do," said Guy, "it won''t go well for them."


    Then again, maybe xe should stay hidden.


    "I don''t see anyone out here," said the second voice.


    "Then you''ve got better eyes than me, Phil," said Guy. "If you ask me, anyone could be lurking in this haze you''ve spewed out."


    "It''s your haze too," said Phil.


    "No, Phil. I like a good cigar. You like a minor forest fire." The footsteps came closer. Whoever made them, Rakkel thought, must be heavy. But a fat sort of heavy? Or a muscular sort of heavy?


    "Whoever it was that shrieked," said Guy, "they''re not over here unless..." the handle on the closet door began to turn. Rakkel could barely see it, but xe could hear the sound of sliding metal. Xe cowered back into the corner of the closet.


    Behind xir, xe felt a panel in the wall, like some gap in the architecture or unfinished ventilation hole had been covered up with cheap plywood. Or at least, like something had been covered up with cheap plywood. Xe took a gamble and hooked xir grooming claws around the edges, prying it off the wall as quickly as xe could.


    "You really think someone''s hiding in the coat closet, Guy?" said Phil.


    The knob stopped turning.


    "I don''t know if someone''s hiding in the coat closet, Phil," said Guy. "I mean to find out."


    "Didn''t we lock the front door, anyway? How could someone have gotten in here?"


    "Did we?"


    "Er..."


    The plywood came away. Behind it, just as Rakkel hoped, was a hole. Xe''d had a momentary vision of Guy bursting into the closet to find Rakkel standing there, awkwardly holding a wooden square in front of xir like a shield, the wall behind xir missing a patch of paint toward the floor but otherwise intact.


    If xe didn''t move quickly, though, Guy would have a momentary vision of a black and white striped tail disappearing into the wall, which was already more of xir than xe wanted him to see. There weren''t a lot of people in Forash, xe figured, running around with black and white striped tails.


    Xe didn''t waste time finishing these thoughts before xe crawled into the hole. Xe could think and crawl in parallel.


    The door came open behind xir.


    There was a heavy, pensive silence in the closet.


    "Phil, was there a hole in this wall before?"


    Rakkel couldn''t hear Phil''s response.


    "Well, there is now," said Guy.


    Another muffled response from Phil.


    "No, I don''t," said Guy. "I know what I heard. Now, there''s a possibility that it came from somewhere else, and the sound carried through that hole. But I don''t remember seeing a piece of plywood on the floor when I hung up my coat in here. I think I''d remember seeing a thing like that."


    Xe continued crawling away. Any moment, xe thought, Guy would duck down to peer into the crawlspace, and see xir after all.


    The crawlspace opened up just ahead. Xe pulled xirself forward through it and tumbled into the room on the other side.


    Xe heard a noise behind xir, in the crawlspace. Xe bent down to look back through it.


    On the other side, xe saw a pair of shining retinas. Xe stared back at them, unsure what to do and unable to see a face behind them.


    "Interesting," said the voice of Guy.


    The tapetum lucidums rose back up out of view.


    Those weren''t human eyes, Rakkel thought, followed by, why could he see me if I couldn''t see him? Or could he see me after all? Maybe he''d only seen xir own eyes glowing back at his through the darkness. That''d still qualify as "interesting," wouldn''t it? For a confused moment, xe felt relief as xe remembered xe had a handkerchief over xir face, then felt it go away again as xe realized how little that would help protect xir identity.


    "Do you know what''s behind this wall, Phil?" asked Gus.


    "No, what?" Evidently, Phil had joined Gus in the coat closet. Rakkel could hear him clearly again.


    "I don''t know either," admitted Gus. "Could be anything." There was a pause, and then the sound of shifting fabric.


    Rakkel moved away from the hole and turned to look at the room xe''d tumbled into. It was less a room, more a sort of awkward little wooden space between the walls, too small to be useful. Doople might''ve been able to live comfortably in it, but anyone else would get claustrophobic, which was probably why whoever built the place hadn''t bothered to finish it.


    Surprisingly, light came in through an extraordinarily dirty skylight set awkwardly into the top part of the sloped ceiling. Xe wondered why anyone had bothered to install a skylight into this non-room. Probably just to preserve the symmetry of the appearance from the outside or something like that.


    Seeing no other way out, Rakkel took a running start and leapt as high as xe could. Xe just managed to hook xir grooming claws into a thin gap between one wall and the ceiling. Xe dangled for a moment, fingers hurting. Lemurs were built for climbing, yes, but not like this. Xe hoped xir claws wouldn''t just snap. But there wasn''t anywhere else to gain purchase.


    "What are you doing?" said Phil.


    "I''m going after them," said Guy. "What else? Hold my vest, would you?"


    "It''s probably just rats," said Phil.


    "It''s not rats," said Guy.


    Rakkel began making xir way hand-over-hand around the wall. The crack sloped upward toward the higher part of the ceiling. Dust and wood fragments fell down every time xe shoved xir claws into the next part of the gap. Xe tried not to sneeze. Back home, xe was famous for xir cute sneezes, which at the time seemed unlikely to ever threaten to be the death of xir. At least now the handkerchief proved useful.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    The sound of crawling came from the crawlspace. Fortunately, it seemed that Guy was not a fast crawler.


    Rakkel was a very fast climber, and thank goodness. Xe finished hauling xirself up and along the sloped top of the wall, hand over hand, to the skylight. Xir nail bases screamed in pain. At least on this side, the crack became wide enough that xe could slide xir slender fingers over, relieving the two claws somewhat.


    The skylight had no latch. Of course it didn''t, xe thought. Xe began scraping furiously at the ancient paint with one grooming claw, clinging desperately to the top of the wall with the other hand. Xir palms and feet gripped tightly to the rough wood. Paint flakes fell like dandruff.


    Steady thumps and bumps came from the crawlspace, slowly drawing nearer and nearer, deep and even, resembling Rakkel''s heartbeat in no way, shape or form. Rakkel began to scrabble more desperately at the edge of the window. Xe tried to work xir other hand''s claw into it, supporting xirself only with xir legs, and almost fell before catching xirself. Xe alternated scraping the paint and simply banging against it with a fist. Guy must certainly be able to hear the banging, but there was nothing else xe could do. It had to open. It simply had to.


    Suddenly, smoothly, almost anticlimactically, the window popped open. Rakkel''s arms grabbed the sides and pulled Rakkel through before xe even realized. Xe dragged xirself onto the roof, rearranged xir body upward in a kind of automatic, keyframed transition that seemed to ignore xir actual joints, and took off away from the skylight as fast as possible, or maybe slightly faster than that.


    As xe started running, the jazz music started up again. It came out of the skylight and chased xir away across the rooftop.


    Welton couldn''t enjoy his banana.


    He got to the final bite without having tasted any of it, then stared morosely at that last bit of chocolate-coated, chipotle-flavored banana pulp.


    Years - decades - no, centuries of genetic manipulation went into the creation of this snack, he thought, and I can''t even be bothered to taste it.


    He threw the peel along with the last bite into a gutter.


    He reflected that, never mind the trials and tribulations suffered by the innocent banana throughout history, fragile monoculture that humanity had turned it into and all, there was also the matter of the amount of chocolate that he''d just wasted. In his youth, before the great Chocolate Reclaimation Project had succeeded, even that tiny amount of rich, pure, dark chocolate would''ve been a rare treasure. His own parents, who''d both been heavily involved in the project, knew the value of chocolate all too well, and would''ve scolded him and maybe even beat him for throwing it away like that.


    Welton thought chocolate was delicious. He couldn''t help that. This was a fundamental truth of chocolate, undeniable and irresistable. But now that it could be grown easily in any climate, he took a certain delight in throwing little bits of it away. Or at least, he had for a while. He thought he''d outgrown the habit. He hated his parents, sure, but he didn''t need to spite them anymore like that. He''d figured out that it didn''t help anything.


    In this case, he''d probably just done it because he was being generally moody and petulant. And as he had that thought, his petulant mood evaporated. What was the big deal, anyway? So Rakkel, a person he barely knew, wasn''t the person he imagined she was, or something like that. He really didn''t need to let it get to him this much.


    He shrugged, stretched, and took off his jacket.


    The sun felt warm, filtered though it was through the scratched, dirty glass of the market tube windows. The bustle around him felt like the bustle of life. Why worry about anything? Here he was, free, unrestrained, at large in the city of Forash. His family wouldn''t find him here, his fortune lay before him, and his future seemed bright. Rakkel could live her own life, and the best of luck to her.


    Maybe he''d just needed to eat something, he thought. It''d already reached late afternoon. The tables and stalls and ramshackle shops made weird shadows across the ridges of the tube''s insides, as the setting sun pushed them to extreme angles. He''d rushed breakfast and missed lunch. At least there''d be a delicious dinner waiting for him at Doople''s place. But he''d needed the banana to tide him over for sure.


    Ahead of him, in the crowd, he saw a fin.


    He squinted at it, perplexed. It vanished between a couple of people.


    Must''ve been some kind of novelty backpack, he thought, or maybe I just missaw it.


    No, there it was again. A definite dorsal fin coming out of someone''s back.


    Another bio-modder? He moved toward them. The crowd made it difficult here. He''d wandered to a part of the market where a lot of people had set up food stalls, and he wasn''t the only person around who''d noticed how close it was getting to dinner time. He found himself being jostled about. Occasional angry mutterings on the theme of "watch it, pig-face" echoed around him.


    He ignored them and pushed forward. Another flash of fin, this time at the end of a tail that swept along the ground past a forest of ankles. Definitely a bio mod, he thought. He grinned, in spite of the experiences of the past day.


    A break in the crowd opened up, and he saw another hint of gray flesh. He jogged forward. Whoever this was seemed to be heading south, towards the place where the two rivers met and mingled.


    There was a gap in the wall of the tube just ahead. He followed the stranger through it into a sandy clearing, where for some reason a number of lots had been roped off in which household appliances stood on display. The crowds respected the ropes: Suddenly, he saw his target clearly.


    They were a grey-fleshed, beak-faced dolphin wearing some kind of green jumpsuit. They actually did have on a backpack under the dorsal fin - it had a notch cut in its lid to make room for it. But even as he stared, the crowd carried them away again.


    Determined not to lose them, he jumped a rope and ran across one of the lots, hopscotching over solar-powered vaccuum cleaners and ignoring the yells of the vaccuum cleaner dealers. He caught a hoof on the ropes on the other side, stumbled awkwardly for a moment, then shook himself free and kept running, the edges of the lot ruined behind him.


    There they were, walking into the tube on the other side of the yard, the crowd finally thinning behind them. He hurried forward.


    "Hey!" he shouted, coming up behind the dolphin. The dolphin, confused, took a moment to turn around and look at him, which gave him just enough time to realize that he had no idea what he was going to say to them.


    "Oh," they said, "you''re a bio-modder!" Their face broke into a grin. "Hi!" they said.


    "Hi," said Welton. "Uh, yeah. I saw your tail moving through the crowd, so I thought I''d come say hello. There aren''t very many of us around here."


    "Doesn''t look like it," they agreed. "I''m new in town. Name''s Essabrou."


    "Welton," said Welton. He extended a hand. Essabrou took it in webbed, rubbery digits.


    "I''m kinda new in town myself," he added. "Just been here a couple of days."


    "I got in this morning. I''m working one of the cargo ships from upriver. We''re docked for a few days while they unload, so I thought I''d come see the sights. Was just looking for somewhere to go eat. Wanna come get food with me? I''ll treat you. I don''t meet a lot of other bio-modders."


    Good grief, thought Welton. Now he knew why Rakkel had been so reluctant to come to the market with him when they''d only just met. He''d said a handful of words to this total stranger and already they wanted to treat him to dinner. Was that right? It felt uncomfortable to him. But then again, he was the one who''d chased them down across the marketplace, not the other way around. Could he really judge?


    More importantly, did he want to get to know them better, or not? Of course he did.


    "I just had most of a banana," he said, "so I''m set for food. But I''ll walk with you."


    "I''m a porpoise, by the way," said Essabrou.


    "Eh?"


    "Not a dolphin. A porpoise. Everyone always gets it wrong, so I figure I''ll just clear that up right now and save us some awkwardness later."


    "Right," said Welton, "okay. Good to know. I''m just a pig, no gotchas."


    "Cool! Actually, no, that is really, seriously cool! I''ve never heard of anyone doing a pig morph before."


    "Ah, thanks," said Welton. "I guess there aren''t very many of us." Only one that I know of, he thought privately.


    "It looks good," they said. "Handsome."


    "Ah," said Welton. "Er, thanks."


    "I like the way you''ve done it. Very sleek. How do you feel about seafood? Oh, that''s right - you had a banana. Well, if you think you''re going to want to get some food after all and you can''t stand seafood, speak up now."


    "Just as long as it''s vat seafood," said Welton. "Not wild-caught."


    Essabrou hesitated. "Yeah," they said. "Of course."


    "I really meant it about the banana, though," he said.


    "Yeah, no worries. Just saying." They''d already turned and started walking away. Welton followed.


    Rakkel doubted Guy had followed xir onto the roof, unless he was both lighter and more athletic than he''d seemed, but xe kept running anyway.


    At the edge of the roof, xe climbed down and stopped to take a breather. This wasn''t the marketplace anymore. It was some kind of alleyway, roughly cobbled, which ran along the side of a series of long, low brick buildings. Xe guessed they were warehouses. The building xe''d just escaped from resembled it on this side, save that the windows were all boarded up, and on the other side of the building from where xe stood, it transitioned into about three stories of what had probably once been a skyscraper, its upper part covered by a huge tarpaulin from which twisted steel girders stuck at unpleasant angles. At the moment, the sun hung just behind it, turning it into an ember-limned silhouette of itself, diabolical against the skyline of bowing, cowering supplicants.


    Though this fascinated Rakkel, xe didn''t stick around to take it in. Instead, xe set off again, running down the alleyway back toward where xe thought the market was.


    Both office-lined hallways, xe figured, must''ve been part of the skyscraper. Not many skyscrapers still stood, and those that did had mostly been repurposed as vertical gardens, or solar farms, or just as housing. But the others had been dismantled, xe thought. Usually very carefully - they''d have to be, wouldn''t they? It wasn''t the sort of job one approached haphazardly.


    Maybe that''s what had happened to this one: Someone had gone to demolish it, planned poorly, and destroyed the top part. Though even if that were the case, what had they done to twist those girders so violently? Mostly the goal in skyscraper demolition projects was to reclaim as much of them as possible for other uses.


    Which, in the old days, wasn''t really the way they''d been built. They were supposed to stand forever, or something like that. Or probably the builders hadn''t even thought ahead. In the age of luxury, they had the resources not to bother with thinking about endings.


    But who were Guy and Phil? What were they doing in there? How much of xir had they seen? In retrospect, xe supposed xe''d deserved all of it, poking xir fuzzy little snout into places uninvited like that. It hadn''t been any of xir business and it still wasn''t.


    At least xe''d gotten away.


    Given the late hour, xe supposed xe''d have to skip dinner and go hunt down that hostel again. Xe was pretty sure xe remembered how to get back, once xe reached the riverside. Or maybe xe could stop by Doople''s on the way? No, xe''d given all xir money to Salmidon, and xe didn''t want to impose on Doople any more than xe already had.


    Not that xe knew where xe currently was in the city. But it couldn''t be that hard to find the riverside from here. Right?

 Chapter Ten

    "So what does a holo-scribe do?" asked Essabrou.


    "I''ll demonstrate. Do you have an AR device?"


    "Not a very good one," said Essabrou. They slipped off their pack and began hunting through it. "I''m saving up for an upgrade."


    "You should keep it somewhere handy while you''re in Forash Market," said Welton, "if it''s not the sort you can just wear." He tapped his spectacles. "I wear mine all the time," he said.


    "Is it that important?" asked Essabrou, their head buried in the backpack. They had, Welton noted with mild interest, a blowhole on the top of their head. He wondered how long they could keep their face submerged in the stuffy confines of the pack.


    "It''s quite useful," said Welton. "A lot of shops have signs and price lists and things done as holos. And more importantly, there''s a directory that can show you the way to any registered booth or stall by projecting arrows in front of you."


    Essabrou re-emerged with a pair of what looked like squarish cardboard binoculars held in front of their eyes.


    Welton whistled. He''d spent a long time after his conversion re-learning to whistle as a pig, and here it was, paying off once again. "That is a cheap one," he said. "Can I see it?"


    They handed it over.


    "You could attach a strap to it or something," he suggested, "to keep it balanced on your nose. I guess."


    "Nah," said Essabrou, "I don''t want to tear the cardboard too much. It needs to last until I can replace it."


    Welton pulled off his spectacles and peered through the cardboard apertures. "I hope you can replace it soon," he said. "You''ll want one that you can use in the rain without worrying that it''ll fall apart. What are these lenses? Good grief!"


    "That''s not entirely the device''s fault. I just throw it in my backpack, so I guess the lenses get scratched up a bit."


    He pointed it down at his menu. "Never mind the scratches, though," he said, "what''s the resolution on this? I can''t even read the holo versions of half these menu items. This isn''t augmented reality, this is... what''s an antonym of ''augmented''?"


    "What''s an ''antonym''?"


    "OR," said Welton. "Obfuscated Reality. That''s what this is."


    "Is it really that bad?"


    "What''s this blocky shape that keeps appearing in the corner? The wobbly black thing?"


    "Um," said Essabrou, "I''m not sure."


    Welton put the device down. "No, really," he said, "what is it?"


    "It came like that! I swear, I have no idea!"


    "Then why do you sound so- crap!" He threw it away from himself. "No! What''s it blocking, Essabrou? What''s it blocking? What appears there behind the black shape?"


    "Why do you sound so panicked?" Essabrou started to sound a little panicked themself. "The lady swore it was safe."


    "Swore what was safe?"


    "Look, even if the block fails, it doesn''t matter. That company''s been dead and gone for ages. You can''t even buy their product anymore. So what harm could their ad do?"


    Welton''s face went grim. "Don''t use it," he said. "Don''t use it ever. You should destroy it. If it has an adaptive ad, you should destroy it, no matter what code''s been hacked in place over the top to try to protect you from it."


    "It''s fine! I''ve been using it for a while now. No weird urges, no sudden compulsions to drink soda or whatever."


    "None that you''re conscious of," said Welton. His fur had gone damp with sweat. "That''s how they got people, you know. More than anything else. People didn''t take advertisements seriously. The big corporations put more and more time and effort into making them insidious and persuasive. And for a while, it only sort of worked. People would get advertising jingles stuck in their heads, and they''d be annoyed, and they wouldn''t really buy the product any more than they would have anyway. Subliminals didn''t work at all. But the ads were everywhere, of course, making people aware that products existed as much as possible. And people took them for granted. They faded into the background.


    "And then AI blew up in the early 2020s. All of a sudden, the secrets of the human brain were unlocked for the big corps to use and abuse. Or at least, for their AIs to use and abuse, based on whatever vague directives they''d been given. And ads became persuasive, just how all the marketing executives thought they wanted them to be."


    Essabrou was on the edge of their stool. "Is that really how it happened?" they said. "Is that how the war started?"


    "Kinda. Honestly, nobody knows for sure," said Welton. "But it''s at least part of how it started. It was one of the main goals of the counter-AI movement: Find a way to stop those ads from getting into peoples'' skulls and reprogramming them."


    "But can people really be reprogrammed like that? Just by looking at an image? That seems hard to believe. It makes for a nice story and all, but-"The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "Right," said Welton, "it does seem hard to believe. Magical pictures that brainwash you just because you looked at them? Nah, no way. But at the most basic level, images can and do change the state of your brain. That''s part of what ''seeing'' fundamentally is. And words are a special case where the act of looking at a bunch of abstract symbols causes your brain to take on whole complex states that would seem to be totally unpredictable from just the shapes of the letters. You have to learn to read first, sure, or it doesn''t work. But still."


    "Yeah, okay," said Essabrou. "I think I followed that. But we''re talking, just, images. Not even writing. And I''ve never heard of anyone killing all their loved ones and then themself just because they read a weird book."


    "Depends on the book," said Welton, darkly. "And the person. But that''s the catch, of course - everyone''s brain is different. You can''t even reliably get people to agree with you by telling them raw, hard facts, even if the evidence is right in front of them. You have to figure out how to make things make sense not just in general, but in the context of their particular worldview. That doesn''t just mean telling them the right facts, either, or telling them the right facts in the right way. They might still not listen. You have to appeal to their emotion, or catch them in the right mood, or deal with all sorts of other things that can interfere. It''s an extremely hard problem - and the answer is different for every individual person. That''s why persuasive advertising doesn''t normally work. You can''t trick different people into all believing the same thing the same way, no matter how good you are. And in order to trick any of them at all enough to rewrite their core view of the universe, especially just by showing them a glimpse of some particular image in the corner of their vision, you really have to understand them. I don''t know how it does work, but if there''s any hope it will work, the image has to be designed for them and them alone. And that''s already assuming you have some kind of algorithm to generate it that''s beyond the scope of human understanding, practically by definition. You could only do it with the kind of wild optimization power that AIs were capable of achieving."


    "So what I''m getting is, as far as my AR device is concerned, even without the block, it wouldn''t be the right image to get inside my head, or your head, or probably anybody''s head who''s still alive," said Essabrou. "Right, professor?"


    "That''s the thing, though," said Welton. "The best efforts that the AIs dreamed up affected roughly one in twelve people. Which is astoundingly good. Impossibly good, I think, for a generalized image. Maybe they had some way of injecting their own code into the devices they infected, so they could observe their victims and figure out what made them tick before generating a customized image just for them. But there''s problems with that. Not all of the infected devices had the computing power to do something like that, for one thing. I mean, it takes work to map a human brain out under the best of circumstances, right? At the very least, you need somewhere to store the map you''ve made, and a lot of the old AR devices and so forth didn''t have a fraction of enough room for that. But here''s what I figure:"


    Essabrou had eased back from their stool''s edge. "Okay," they said, "what do you figure?"


    "Maybe the image isn''t directly persuasive as such," he said. "Maybe it''s like... so when you read text, your brain does some work. You imagine something. The images you imagine aren''t part of the text, they''re what happens after your brain processes the text. So maybe the images are like little computer programs that your brain automatically runs, translating the- the payload into terms it will understand. The picture you see isn''t the one that brainwashes. It''s the picture that the picture you see makes you imagine."


    "Right," said Essabrou. "The picture that the picture you see makes you imagine. Sure."


    "But that''s just a guess," said Welton. "And obviously you''re losing interest in this."


    "Sorry, I guess I''m just not as smart as you," said Essabrou.


    "Hey, woah! If I were smart, I wouldn''t talk some poor stranger''s ear-holes off like this. Look, all I''m really trying to say is, leaving all the theory or whatever out of it, we know the images are terrible and deadly, because they were. People saw it happening. Some of them experienced it happening and survived. The old myth about the family who drank themselves to death on cheap orange soda is probably just a myth, but the stories I''ve read about what actually happened, based on firsthand accounts, are worse."


    "So?"


    "So don''t use that AR device," he finished.


    "Ugh. First you tell me it''s vital I have one just to find my way around around here, now you tell me I can''t even use the one I''ve got." They walked over and picked it up from where Welton had knocked it onto the loose wooden floorboards of the pierside restaurant.


    "Sorry," said Welton. "I dunno what else to say. It''s the truth."


    "But I really have been using it with no side-effects. Anyway, won''t the scratched-up lens ruin whatever brainwashy image might be programmed into it, even if for some reason the block doesn''t block it?"


    Welton hesitated. "Well," he said, "I guess maybe."


    "There you go, then."


    "But nobody who was infected knew they were infected," he protested. "And sometimes it didn''t manifest until a long time later. Years later, maybe. People who took extra care to avoid looking at anything that might have an AI ad embedded in it still went funny thanks to something that''d gotten in before anyone knew the AI ads existed in the first place. And when it comes down to it, nobody really even knows how it worked. So it''s hard to say if anything''s safe. Even today."


    "Yeah, but that''s just life, right?" said Essabrou. "Life''s not safe. Can''t let it stop you from living it." They said it with the smug finality of someone sure that their wisdom has trumped someone else''s intelligence.


    "Yeah, but-"


    "Hey, if you don''t want to use them, that''s fine. You have your own pair. Anyway, it''s getting pretty late. I''d better get back to my berth." They put the device back in their pack and zipped it up. "See you around, though, eh?"


    They left Welton sitting alone at the tall, round table, watching forlornly as they slapped their flippery feet down the pseudo-gangplank that led from the restaurant to the river''s shore.


    "Did I just screw up two in a row?" he asked himself.


    He raised a hand and called the waiter over.


    "Yes? What''ll it be?" said the waiter, using that superficially polite voice Welton had become accustomed to from people who weren''t totally prepared to serve an anthropomorphic pig.


    "Can I see your drinks menu?" he asked.


    Rakkel still had not found the riverside.


    This baffled xir. The river ran through the whole dang city. In fact, there were two of the things. Walk in any direction for long enough, and you were bound to hit one of them, right? That or the city''s edge.


    But xe hadn''t.


    Xe thought for sure these warehouses, at the very least, would be close to the riverside. It only made sense. That''s where all the cargo traffic went, after all. But xe''d been walking for long enough that xe felt sure xe should''ve seen it, or at least heard it. Or if not that, then the marketplace, which shouldn''t be so far away. Xe''d been in the heart of it on the other side of that building.


    Up ahead, xe saw a wall. It wasn''t a friendly wall. It had - xe thanked xir good night vision for letting xir see this, because the sun had gone quite low by this point - barbed wire along the top. Or something of the sort. It extended in both directions across the street and upward for several times xir height.


    Where the heck am I? xe thought.

 Chapter Eleven

    As xe approached the concrete wall, Rakkel caught the scent of water.


    Xir shadow stood emblazoned across the wall, giant and gangling, projected there by the sun''s last rays of light. It loomed over xir.


    "Don''t just stand there," xe told it. "Peek over the top and tell me what''s on the other side. Is it the river? It must be the river, right?"


    Xe felt so unsettled here, so out of place in this abandoned maze of warehouses and sunset, that xe almost expected the shadow to answer. It did not, of course. It didn''t do anything useful except exude a foreboding aura. Which, xe thought, the wall already did quite well on its own.


    The wall seemed misplaced, put here by accident instead of around the abandoned military complex where it belonged. Or like it was part of some surrealist''s photo-collage, pasted here deliberately to be provocative. Even the buildings next to it didn''t match: Some of the doors opened right onto it, so that they barely had room. And the street broke off suddenly, gaps in the cobblestones where the pattern didn''t line up with the wall''s edge. There were no guard booths or barriers near it. No security cameras, as far as Rakkel could see. Just a big, smooth, gray wall with coils of wire atop it. If not for that wire, it would''ve seemed unearthly. As it was, it seemed caricaturesque, grotesque, unreal without being alien.


    Xe turned to the right and began walking along it. Xe didn''t know what else to do. Eventually, xe thought, there''d be a break, or a gate, or a ladder, or even a crumbing section. Or at least a way around. Xe zigzagged from street to street, weaving in and out around the warehouses.


    It grew fully dark. The stars came out.


    Xe felt xe''d been walking for an hour or so, when xe realized there was that distinctive, ruined skyscraper again, barely visible against the stars, but on the other side of xir. As if xe''d gone around it in a half-circle. Which xe clearly had done. Which meant that this wall wasn''t enclosing something ahead of xir. It was enclosing xir, and the warehouses, and the skyscraper, and wherever xe was, whatever this section of the city was, xe most assuredly wasn''t supposed to be there.


    At least that explained why there weren''t any signs up. If there were any, they''d be on the outside of the wall, not the inside.


    Xe wondered about Guy, and Phil, and Mme. Flore. Did they know their abandoned office building was part of this walled-off, forbidden zone? Did they know why it had been walled off? Did they care?


    Not knowing what else to do, xe kept walking. Xe began to feel tired underneath a vague haze of adrenaline. There would be no rest in this place, though. Xe needed to get out. Then xe could sleep. Not before.


    Xe still smelled water, which frustrated xir. Xe''d thought when xe first approached the wall that xe was starting to get xir bearings: Here was one of the rivers. But now xe''d made a half-loop of the place, and the water had gotten no farther or closer. The river couldn''t be everywhere, could it?


    Where was xe?


    Where WAS xe? And how had xe gotten there? Xe looked up at the stars, half-expecting them to form alien constellations. Instead, xe saw the light from the city reflecting off the thin and ragged clouds, reassuringly close.


    Xe''d made three-quarters of a circle by xir estimation, and had been walking for what felt like hours and hours, before xe found the gate. It wasn''t large. Just a little concrete arch in the side of the wall, squared off, with a rusty old metal double-door set in it. Xe tried the handle: Locked, of course, or possibly locked and rusted solid. Xe knew a thing or two about locks. It was the rust that worried xir.


    Xe fished around in xir messenger bag for a small zippered case.


    It wasn''t that Rakkel went around breaking into places all the time. Not exactly. But xe did have a fondness for figuring out how things worked, and that included locks. Besides that, while on the road, xe''d been through some areas once populated but now reclaimed by nature, where xe''d found it useful to get past a lock or two to forage some long-abandoned but well-preserved foodstuffs, or to scavenge other useful materials. Which xe''d anticipated before leaving home. Which was why xe''d brought xir lock picks along.


    They weren''t fancy. Just a tension wrench, a simple rake, and a couple of basic picks for when the rake didn''t work, which wasn''t actually very often in practice. And a couple of padlock shims, though xe kept losing or breaking those and having to make new ones. Xe wasn''t any kind of expert at this. The thing about locks was, a little bit of knowledge went a long way. Most people didn''t have any idea how to pick a lock, so most locks didn''t need to be very hard to pick. This one, xe thought, might prove to be one of the exceptions - but it wasn''t. The four pins went right where xe wanted them and stayed there immediately, and the handle turned.


    And the door didn''t open.


    Xe wrenched at it to no avail. The hinges refused to budge, lock or no lock.


    Xe''d started out xir journey with a crowbar, but it''d broken and xe''d left the pieces behind, placed somewhere conspicuous in the hopes that some future traveler might find them and use them for something. Xe wished xe had even the pieces now.


    But, xe thought, there was some good news here. The door lock hadn''t been particularly sophisticated. That suggested this wall was meant to keep people out, not in. Or at least that whoever''d been in charge of setting the barricade up hadn''t been very conscientious. Either way, it meant xe had a better chance of escaping.


    Maybe xe could attack the hinges, xe thought. Xe looked and found them on the side of the door towards xir, where xe hoped they''d be. Rusted, xe thought, meant not just that they were stuck, but that they were fragile, right?


    Xe''d already clawed xir way through one old painted-over skylight today. Xir grooming claws still ached badly, though.


    Xe looked at the lock picks in xir hand. They''d been crafted to be light and supple, not durable. Xe''d cut them xirself out of very thin sheet metal using the Trolley''s big laser cutter - so xe had a good idea how much force they could and couldn''t withstand. Or at least, xe thought xe did. It probably wasn''t enough force to break apart the hinges.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    But they''d suffer a bit of poking, xe thought, wouldn''t they? At least xe could get some idea what condition the hinges were in.


    Xe selected the tension wrench, which was probably the strongest and most durable of the tools, and jabbed the topmost hinge on the left door with it.


    Whereupon the hinge crumbled and fell to the ground.


    "Oh," xe said out loud.


    Xe scraped away the remaining fragments, then took the tool against the other two hinges, which also fell right off, then tried the door again.


    It seemed to shift a little more. But something still held it to the second door.


    Xe attacked the second door''s hinges the same way. They held together a little better, but not enough to stop xir. Then xe went to the side of the doors, stuck xir claws - reluctantly - into the gap between the doors and the door frame, and pulled. Xe strained with all xir might. Finally, the doors came free and fell down. Xe jumped back as they slammed into the ground, smashing chips out of the stone cobbles and making a tremendous boom.


    On the other side, they''d been barred with a big, solid bar.


    And on the other side of the doorway, xe could see sloping rocks, and just beyond them, flowing water.


    Somewhere along the bank of the Sedgeriver, the smooth, liquid black water sprouted a pair of white ears.


    The ears rose, glistening in the moonlight, above a black-muzzled face. In turn, a slender, gray torso, fur sleek and dripping.


    Rakkel stepped up onto a little platform, then climbed up a ladder onto the street above, then collapsed onto the ground, exhausted. Xir messenger bag lay on the street beside xir in a puddle of its own devising.


    Xe closed xir eyes, then opened them again - their pupils shone in the dark like a pair of copper coins in a public fountain - then got to xir feet. Xe pulled a cyan bundle out of xir messenger bag. It crinkled. One side winked up at xir with a lascivious pink eye.


    "If you leaked," xe told it, "and ruined my newly-repaired AR device, then you and I are through. You''re a rain poncho. Keeping things dry is your one job."


    The kangaroo said nothing.


    Xe looked around. Xe thought the area looked familiar, despite the moonlight - xe''d walked down this street this morning. If xe walked back up it, xe was pretty sure xe''d recognize the turnoff towards xir hostel; it had a big tree with red bark growing at the corner of the intersection.


    Sure enough, two blocks later, there it was. And just beyond, the Charming Garden Hostel.


    Xe approached the front gate. Xe had no idea what time it was, but xe felt sure 11:00 had long since come and gone: It''d be locked by now. Xe fished in the messenger bag for the little plastic card the woman had given xir.


    A noise made xir look up.


    Something lay at the foot of the gate, snoring.


    Xe frowned at it. The something had a familiar, distinct silhouette: A flat-ended snout, a pair of ears almost as ostentatious as xir own.


    "What," xe said, "are you doing here?"


    Welton, fast asleep, didn''t answer.


    Xe sniffed and stepped closer. "What," xe amended, "are you doing here all covered in vomit?" Xe sniffed again. There was a strong smell of alcohol, and a faint whiff of chipotle peppers.


    "I''m really too tired for this," xe added. "Ugh. Couldn''t you have chosen a better evening? I don''t have the energy to carry you all the way back to Doople''s."


    Instead, xe carried him inside the hostel, and made it up two whole flights of stairs before he woke up.


    "Hgnwa," he grunted.


    "Okay, good," xe said, "you can walk now. I was about to abandon you on a landing. Even my exhaustion is exhausted, whatever that means."


    "Where?" He looked up. "Rakkel?"


    "How much did you drink?"


    "Ow," answered Welton.


    "Yeah, I bet. Get up. I don''t care how drunk you are. If you can make it to the bed, you can have it. Otherwise, it''s mine."


    "Wuss...?" He looked down at his chest. "Whose? Wuss vomit is...?"


    "Yours, obviously." Xe dragged him to his feet. "I''m sure there''s a public shower or something around here somewhere."


    "Ugh," he said.


    "Yeah, that''s what I said." Xe pulled him up the staircase as best xe could. After some difficulty determining which limbs were his legs, he began stumbling more or less on his own.


    "''levator," he said on the third floor. "''s safer."


    "There aren''t any, believe it or not."


    "I don''t... I don''t want to take the stairs. No stairs."


    "I don''t either. But it''s that or nothing."


    "Don''t let me fall. Don''t let me fall!"


    "I won''t," xe said. "Come on. Hang on to the handrail."


    On the fifth floor, he barfed again.


    "Why''m," he said, "why''m I... why do people drunk? Am I dying?"


    "You''re not dying," said Rakkel.


    "I could be. I could be dying. Maybe I''m alchegic to allergihol."


    "Allergic to alcohol?"


    "I could be," he said.


    "Pretty sure you''re just normal to alcohol," xe said.


    "Thish.. this really... is this really what drunk ish?"


    "Yep."


    He was silent until the seventh floor.


    On the seventh floor, he said, "Good... good galaxiesh... my parents!"


    "Your parents?"


    "My parentsh! Were right!"


    Whereupon he collapsed on the carpet.


    Xe left him there to scout out the floor layout. There was a loop of hallways, with doors along every wall. Xe vaguely remembered that the woman had told her xir room was at the "end of the hall," which seemed perplexing, but xe quickly found a match to the number on the key in one corner of the loop. Another door said "SHOWERS" on it. Xe went back for Welton and dragged him the last few yards to the shower room.


    "Almost there," xe told him.


    "Don''t wanna shower," he mumbled. "Just wanna sleep."


    "In vomit?"


    "Uh-huh."


    "Too bad. It stinks, and your bunkmates won''t appreciate that."


    "Uh," he said.


    Xe hoisted him up onto xir shoulder and hauled him into the shower room.


    "You oinked," xe told him as xe dragged him into one of the shower stalls. "Did you know that?"


    "Yuh," he said. "''m a pig. Pigs oink."


    "It was really more of a ''hgnwa,''" xe said.


    "Thassa oink," he agreed.


    "Just as long as you know."


    "What sound d''leemurs make?"


    Xe began stripping him, decided not to bother, and turned the water on.


    "We make all kinds of sounds," xe said. "Right now, the sound I''m making is ''next morning, you''d better be grateful I''m doing all this for you, you idiot.''"


    "''m grateful," he said. "''m grateful right now. Thanks."


    "Good," xe said. "You know, I thought it''d be awkward if we ran into each other again, but I didn''t even begin to imagine. Stay there until you''re clean." Xe stepped into the next stall over to wash off the residue from xir swim across the river.


    Once they were both good and clean, xe found some towels and toweled them both off. The shower had brought some life back to Welton; he staggered along beside xir under his own power to the room xe''d been given.


    Xe unlocked it and stepped in. Two of the three bunk beds were full of innocently sleeping bodies, but one was empty - thankfully, on both the top and bottom. Rakkel wouldn''t have thought xe had enough strength left to climb into the top bunk, but that was before xe''d carried Welton up seven flights of stairs and into a shower, so clearly xe had reserves of strength hitherto unknown - and xe didn''t want him rolling off and hurting himself. So xe pulled him into the bottom bunk and climbed into the top one xirself.


    "You and I are going to have to have a talk in the morning," xe started to say, but fell asleep three words in.

 Chapter Twelve

    Of all the screams Welton had awoken to, this was one of the less pleasant.


    Like many of the others he''d experienced, it was about him, or something he''d done, or hadn''t done, or - most often - had done wrong. According to the screamer, at least. Though unusually, this one wasn''t directed purely at him. In fact, to his delight, the real intended recipient of the scream was someone else.


    The someone else was Rakkel. Rakkel had already awoken, along with most likely everyone else on the same floor who''d still been asleep, and was blearily trying to reason with the screamer on the subject of why it was in fact okay - despite the hostel''s few explicitly stated rules - that he, Welton, was here in this room, using a bunk, and even technically sleeping in the same bed as Rakkel, although it was on the relevance of this last point that Rakkel seemed to be gaining some ground.


    What surprised Welton the most was that the sleepy little woman from the front booth had this much lung capacity, or even this much energy. She hadn''t made that impression on him earlier. She hadn''t made much of an impression at all. That''s what he mostly remembered - she''d seemed to have barely even been there. The booth had needed a body, and she technically qualified, and that was her total presence. She''d been asleep when they arrived, and she''d fallen asleep as soon as they''d left, and the time in between hadn''t seemed to make much of a difference.


    What surprised Welton the second most was her eyes: Now that she''d opened them, they turned out to be fiery red. He knew the look; he''d seen it in the bio mod facility brochures, where it came advertised as part of a package deal for a cheap strength-enhancing bio mod that he''d glanced at briefly before flipping ahead to the stuff that actually interested him. There''d been a few combo deals, pairing excitingly unnatural eye colorations with various physical enhancements. He couldn''t imagine anyone wanting anything so pedestrian.


    But apparently, he''d found their target market, and it was sleepy little hostel owners.


    "I''ll pay for him, if you''d like," Rakkel was trying to tell the woman, now that they''d moved on from the subject of whether sharing a bunk with someone constituted "sleeping with them" at any level beyond the most absolutely literal.


    "But I told you," she screamed back, "no couples! It was the first thing I said! The first thing! And what do you do? You sneak him in here! In the dead of night! When you thought I wouldn''t notice!"


    "I didn''t sneak him in here. I dragged him in here because he was passed out drunk."


    It occurred to Welton that he was probably supposed to have a hangover at this point. He wondered idly why he didn''t. He''d been looking forward to it, in a perverse sort of way. He''d never had one before, and he''d always wondered what they were like.


    Probably for the best, he thought. He wouldn''t want to have his very first hangover with all this screaming going on. It''d quite ruin the experience.


    "Excuse me," he said, then "Bleagh. Ugh. Agh."


    The woman stopped screaming to stare at him. Her mouth, when shut, squeezed into a tiny line, as if conserving all of its wide-open-ness for the next bit of shouting.


    "Sorry," he started to say, "my mouth tastes like dried vomit," but halfway through he started gagging again.


    Rakkel hung down over the edge of the bunk to stare at him as well.


    "You okay down there?" xe said.


    "Agth. Gaggghcgthg. Guggghhh."


    "Get out!" shrieked the woman. "Both of you get out! Get out get out get out!" She dragged Rakkel down from the bunk and shoved xir heavily through the door. Rakkel went flying. Welton heard a crash and a squeak of pain.


    "Ouuuuuuuut!" She grabbed Welton as well.


    "I''m getting, I''m getting!" he stammered through his own choking. She ignored his attempts to stand peacefully and threw him out the door as well. He slammed headfirst into the wall on the opposite side of the hallway.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    "Ow," he cried, raising his hands to his face, "by node!" He felt blood between his fingers.


    "Out! Out! Out!" The woman began to stomp towards them.


    Rakkel, who''d already scrambled to xir feet, ran for the stairs. Welton came close behind, still covering his face.


    "Out! Out! Out! Out! Out!" The woman, at least, for all her enhanced strength, didn''t run very fast.


    All around, curious hostel-goers stuck their heads out of rooms and watched.


    "Looks like someone''s crying ''wee wee wee'' all the way home," quipped one. Welton shot them a glare as he ran past.


    Together, Rakkel and Welton stumbled their way down seven flights of stairs. They paused for breath on the fourth, only to find that the woman was still chasing them. She chased them through the building''s tiny front hall, out the door, across the courtyard, and through the gate, and looked like she had half a mind to chase them down the street as well.


    They kept running until the hostel was out of sight.


    At last, they stopped for breath again.


    "Good morning," said Rakkel to Welton between pants. "Hope you slept well."


    "I''m so, so, so sorry-" he began to say, then saw Rakkel was grinning wildly.


    "You know," xe said, "I''d been wondering how I was going to pay for my bed. Isn''t it nice how these problems sometimes just go away on their own?"


    He grinned tentatively back at xir. "You offered to pay for me, though," he said.


    "Yes, well, I might or might not be getting five thousand credits today for doing nothing. That''d cover two of us, right?"


    "You what?"


    Xe stood up and stretched out against the wall of the building they''d hid behind. Xe was totally naked, Welton realized.


    He checked himself. No, he still had on all of his clothing, including his jacket. His memories of the previous night were still fuzzy, though the events so far this morning had covered the gist of it. The vomit stains remaining on his shirt confirmed one of the parts he''d hoped wasn''t true.


    "Are you going to put some clothes on?" he asked.


    "Don''t think so. Not until I get a chance to wash them properly. Speaking of which, if I were you, I''d take those off as well."


    "But then I''d be naked," he said.


    "And cleaner," said Rakkel. "It''s not exactly cold out, anyway. Some sunshine would do you good."


    "Yeah," he said, "but my fur is shorter than yours." And it''s a good thing for you, too, he didn''t add, that your breasts are so small.


    "So? At least take off the jacket. You''ll get blood on it."


    He felt his nose again. It wasn''t bleeding as much as he''d first thought, but it was bleeding.


    "Good grief. If the end of my nose weren''t already so flat," he said, "it would be flatter now. I think that woman had a muscle enhancement mod."


    "Did she? No wonder she could throw me like that." Rakkel pulled a handkerchief out of xir messenger bag and handed it to Welton.


    "Thanks," he said. He held it against his nose.


    "And now that we''re both awake, and we''re not running for our lives, and neither of us is a babbling drunk," said Rakkel, "do you mind telling me what you were doing here?"


    "I don''t know," he said. "Ugh. I was stupid. I met someone in the market, see, and we went and had a meal together, and I scared them off, and I realized I''d done the same thing twice. Scared them off, scared you off. Over AR devices, of all the stupid, lousy things. And then I thought I''d drink my sorrows away, the way they always do in books..."


    "You didn''t scare me off," said Rakkel.


    "Didn''t I?"


    "I was mad because that Salmidon guy irritated me, and I wasn''t sure I liked how I''d talked to him, and I thought he had my AR device for good. Or was going to break it. I kinda took it out on you, but you didn''t really deserve it."


    "I didn''t?"


    "Nah. I mean, even last night I thought maybe you did. How drunk were you that you thought it was a good idea to come and stalk me?"


    "Really drunk," he said, wincing. "Really, really drunk. I guess. I mean, I''ve never actually been drunk before. I thought it''d be fun, like the smoke dens."


    "There''s a right way to do it and a wrong way to do it," said Rakkel.


    "See, this is the sort of thing my parents never explained to me," he said, bitterly. "I bet everyone else''s parents teach you how to get drunk the right way. They don''t just go on and on about the ''evils of liquor'' or whatever. Never mind their expensive wine cellars."


    Rakkel''s parents had, in fact, taught xir how to get drunk the right way. Xe said nothing.


    "Anyway," said Welton, "I''m sorry I''m so terrible."


    "You''re not," said Rakkel. "Honestly. You''ve done nothing but try to be friendly and helpful since I met you, and I appreciate it." Although I should really tell you, xe didn''t add, that I''m not a girl. You obviously have a crush on me, right?


    "''Try'' being the operative word," he said. "I put you in an uncomfortable situation with the AR device, and I got you kicked out of your hostel, and now I''ve gotten blood all over your handkerchief."


    "But you helped me find the hostel in the first place, and Salmidon did fix the device just like he said he would. As for the handkerchief, that''s kinda what they''re for, you know?"


    "For blood?"


    "You know what I mean."


    "I can wash it at Doople''s," he said. "I should probably head over there right now, in fact. He might be worried about me."


    "Uh... mind if I tag along? I could buy breakfast from him." He probably has a terminal, too, xe thought, so I can check if that shark woman''s decided to actually give me free money or not.


    "Sure," he said. "Absolutely. Of course!"

 Chapter Thirteen

    When they got to Doople''s shop, the shutter was down and the door was shut, but Welton had a key.


    "Hello?" he called in through the door as he opened it.


    "Does he normally keep those locked?" asked Rakkel, pointing at the array of bolts and bars attached to the inside of the door.


    "I think so. I''ve seen him latch them all up. He must''ve left them open so I could get in," he said.


    "What''s he afraid of?"


    "Dunno. Burglars, I assume." He slipped inside and ran up the stairs. "Cousin Doople?" he called out, "it''s me, I''m back." He disappeared around the hairpin bend.


    Xe looked around the ground floor. It hadn''t changed in the short while since xe''d last seen it: The flight of stairs on the right, the narrow kitchen and serving area immediately to the left. The wall just opposite the door had a coat rack nailed to it, with a short, baggy raincoat xe assumed belonged to Doople. Welton hadn''t opened the door all the way to avoid catching the doorknob in its sleeve.


    Xe went over to the kitchen. Doople must spend a lot of time standing here, xe thought. All by himself. Well, all by himself aside from the customers, of course. But they''re on the other side of the serving window, in a different world. They''re customers - not people.


    Does he get bored, xe wondered? Or lonely?


    The metal door beside the refrigeration unit swung open. Startled, Rakkel leapt high enough to land next to the condiments and napkin dispenser on the service counter, if xe''d been just a little bit farther over. Instead, xe landed on the floor, spun around, raised xir arms defensively, and almost fell over.


    "Oh," said Doople, "it''s you. How''d you get in?"


    "Ah," said Rakkel, gasping for breath.


    "You aren''t here to thieve the place, are you?" He gave xir a suspicious glare.


    "Sorry, ah, you terrified me. I didn''t think anyone was down here." Xe took another breath. "Welton let me in. He''s upstairs. Looking for you."


    "Good. I''m looking for him." Doople squeezed past Rakkel and made for the stairs. Then he stopped and turned around.


    "Don''t go in there," he warned xir, pointing at the still-ajar metal door.


    "Sure," xe said. "I won''t." But he''d already started up to the second floor, not waiting for an answer.


    Xe waited for the footsteps to reach the top of the stairs before xe went to go peek through the mysterious door.


    Irritatingly, there wasn''t anything to see from the doorway. It just led to a brick-walled corridor, as narrow as the room outside it, that turned sharply to the right and ran parallel to the inside wall of the apartment. At the end, it turned back to the left and out of Rakkel''s vision. A row of bulbs hung from a ceiling, connected with thin metal conduits to each other and to a switch by the door. That was all.


    Xe wondered if xe dared go inside. Doople hadn''t seemed friendly - though he didn''t, as a general rule, right up until he suddenly decided to invite perfect strangers to eat dinner and spend the night. Or so xir experiences with him had gone so far. But it was exactly that hospitality that xe didn''t want to betray.


    On the other hand, xe felt extremely curious.


    On the other other hand, look where xir curiosity had gotten xir just yesterday. Maybe xe should take a break from walking down dark passageways where xe''d explicitly been told not to go.


    On the other other other hand, xe felt extremely, extremely curious. And xe might not get another chance.


    Sighing to xirself at xir own utter foolishness, xe slipped inside.


    Welton had expected Doople might be angry at him, or worried. He''d been gone all night without explanation or warning.


    He hadn''t expected Doople would be angry at him for this. In retrospect, he should have.


    "I don''t care," Doople said, his voice like steel ropes. "I don''t care what history the two of you had. He works for my suppliers, and I need those supplies. They''re vital to my business. Vital, you understand?"


    "But-"Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    "Did you think you wouldn''t be caught? Did you think he wouldn''t realize who''d done it? The truck was parked right outside my place. You stormed out, we all knew where you went."


    "I-"


    "I took you in, Welton. I trusted you with my home. I fed you. I let you sleep in my own bedroom."


    "Yeah, but-"


    "Had to pay for the damages out of my own pocket. He threatened to drop me from his route if he didn''t."


    "I''ll pay you back-"


    "I don''t care about that! I can afford it. I just want you to know what you''re responsible for. He drops me from his route, I have to shut down my shop. Shut down my shop, Welton. Do you understand that? Do you know how long and hard I''ve worked for this place?"


    "Yes, sir," he said, immediately hating himself for it. His father had always insisted on being called ''sir'' in these sorts of situations.


    "Don''t give me ''sir,''" said Doople. "I''m speaking to you cousin to cousin, person to person."


    There was a breath, an empty beat.


    "You''re right," said Welton.


    "Hmm? Of course I am," said Doople.


    "I mean, I''m sorry," said Welton.


    "Good. Good first step."


    "I didn''t think he''d blame you. I don''t think he should have. That was between me and him."


    "Nah, now you''re missing the point. What was between you and him? You ruined his truck''s paint. That''s all there is to it."


    "But it shouldn''t have affected you."


    "Darn right it shouldn''t have - but you shouldn''t have done it in the first place, you idiot! What''d you think you were gonna accomplish?"


    "I dunno, I-"


    "He didn''t even do anything to you!"


    "No, but-"


    "So tell you what," said Doople, "I''ll make you a deal. You find a way to make things right with him..."


    "But that''s not what-"


    "...and I''ll continue letting you live under my roof. How''s that sound?"


    "Oh," said Welton.


    "I''ve got my business to think of, but I''ve also got your character to think of. Thought you were someone else when I decided you could stay with me. Now I''m not so sure."


    "Oh," said Welton again.


    "You''ve got until sundown."


    "I''ve got unt- what!? What do you even want me to do, though? Repaint his truck for him?"


    "I don''t know. That''s between you and him. The way this works is, you keep living here if he says you can keep living here."


    "What!"


    "Seems simple to me. Heck, I''ll be generous. Forget ''you''ve got until sundown.'' You''re just not sleeping here or staying here or eating my food again until he says you can, however long that takes."


    "I see," said Welton.


    "You can collect your stuff right now. Then I want you to leave."


    "What about Rakkel?"


    "What about Rakkel? Rakkel''s got nothing to do with this. Is your nose bleeding?"


    He touched the end of his nose. "Oh," he said. "Yeah. I got hit in the face. I thought it''d stopped."


    "You can clean your nose up, then collect your stuff, then I want you to leave."


    "Okay," he said, heavily. "Will you at least tell me how I''m supposed to even find him?"


    "I''ll write down the address of the delivery company for you."


    "Thanks."


    Welton trudged to the ladder and climbed up it in slow motion. He reached the top, looked forlornly at the bunk on which his stuff was still spread out - the book he was reading, a towel, a brush for his fur - and climbed into the bathroom to deal with his nose.


    Rakkel had been wondering why Doople''s apartment was so small. Now xe thought xe had some idea: The space behind it was enormous. Xe hadn''t even realized the building was this big. But the brick tunnel opened out into a room xe felt xe could get lost in, with row upon row upon row of huge horizontal cylinders of metal, all interconnected with metal pipes. Everywhere, there was a nigh-deafening sound of bubbles and clanging metal, and a rich, fermented odor hung in the air.


    These must be the vats where he grows the vat meat, xe thought. Xe''d seen him as a simple seller of meat buns. But he obviously did a lot more. He couldn''t possibly sell all of this meat through his little alleyway food shop. Maybe one vat''s worth, xe thought, but not this. It was simply too much. He''d never use it all up.


    What else did he do with it? Xe supposed he must sell it to restaurants, or food dispensaries, or something of the sort. Unless something else was going on here.


    Xe walked over to the nearest vat. Glancing back at the doorway for a moment, xe climbed up the ladder built into the vat''s side and peered through a glass window in the end of the cylinder.


    No shocking revelations manifested. It just looked like a bubbling yellow-pink broth inside a rotating inner sleeve. There was an e-paper display set into the side of the vat, displaying some graphs and numbers meaningless to Rakkel, and hanging from the side of that, a clipboard with some unreadable notes jotted on it.


    These were bioreactors for growing meat, right? Or was xe jumping to conclusions? Could they be for something else? Xe didn''t know very much about the process. Back home, they''d done some small-scale meat growing, but xe hadn''t ever paid much attention to it.


    Xe decided not to push xir luck any farther and went back through the brick tunnel to the main apartment. Doople hadn''t returned yet. Xe pushed the door shut until it was only slightly ajar, just as Doople had left it, hoisted xirself up onto the counter, and waited for him to come back.


    To xir surprise, it was Welton who came back down the stairs, alone, carrying his duffel, and with the most miserable expression xe''d ever seen on his face.


    "Well," said Welton, heavily, "bye. I''ll see you around."


    "What? Wait, what''s happening?"


    "He''s kicking me out."


    "He''s what?"


    "I did something ill-advised," he said.


    "What did you do?"


    "I''d rather not say. But instead of coming back to bite me, it came back to bite him."


    Rakkel''s face no doubt radiated perplexion.


    "Look," he said, "thanks for helping me last night. Here''s your handkerchief back." He fished it out of his pocket. "Sorry I didn''t get a chance to wash it."


    "I don''t care, keep it. Where is he?"


    "Upstairs." Welton lifted his leg up and pushed open the door with a cloven hoof.


    "Wait, don''t just leave!"


    "I have to."


    "I''ll come with you. Where are you going?"


    "No, stay here. Get your breakfast."


    "But you don''t have anywhere else!"


    "I''ll figure something out."


    "...and neither do I. We can find another hostel together or something."


    He slammed the door behind himself.


    Rakkel stared at the door for a moment, then shook xir head.


    "First the drinking, now this. Is it just me," xe said to xirself, "or is he kind of melodramatic?"

 Chapter Fourteen

    It began to rain again.


    Rakkel watched it through Doople''s shutter. Xe stood behind his shop counter, leaning on it, picking at the remains of a dumpling stew.


    "I''ll pay," xe told Doople as he walked into the room behind xir. "I have money now." Doople had been more than happy to let xir use the terminal tucked into the far corner of the kitchen. It was an ancient, grease-stained device with a brown plastic shell and round keys that booted on the third try. Rakkel''s paws itched to cannibalize it for parts, on the grounds that they weren''t doing anything much in their present configuration. But eventually, xe''d been able to connect to the city''s network and check xir account. Sure enough, 5000 credits.


    "Rakkel," Doople said, exasperation in his voice, "I invited you to have breakfast with me. I''m not gonna charge you for it."


    "But I feel like I''m in your debt." Xe felt awkward for even having stuck around after Welton left. Like xe had no business being there without him.


    "Pay me back by being good company!" Doople said.


    So they talked. Xe''d thought they''d have nothing to talk about, but beneath his gruff exterior, Doople proved to be a shockingly good conversationalist. He had a knack for listening, xe discovered. Xe imagined him, night after night, standing here at this counter and taking orders from customers, all with that same expression on his face that said that he truly heard, comprehended, and was curious about whatever they had to say. Xe could see xirself ordering food from him just for the satisfaction of that. Maybe even staying to chat while xe ate. Was that how it went for him? Or did he give them their food and hurry them along to make room for the next customer?


    Xe found xirself telling him about xir journey from home to the city.


    It''d been tough. Tougher than xe''d expected, for all that xe''d explored the countryside around home. And the Trolley, being what it was, saw varied countryside. But xe''d never been more than a day or two away from home, and usually even then xe''d been in a small group, not all by xirself.


    Xe told him about an old, overgrown vineyard xe''d stumbled across. Grapes grew wild everywhere. Once upon a time, their ancestors had been genetically modified, and now they took on all kinds of different colors and flavors. Most sported distorted corporate logos on their sides, warped beyond legibility by crossbreeding and genetic drift into feverish, blotchy patterns of contrasting colors, almost but not quite recognizable as letters or regular shapes. None of the flavors were recognizable anymore, either, save for a pervading tang of background grapeness.


    Xe''d spent two days exploring the area, sampling all the different varieties, then filled up some bags with them and hung them on the sides of xir bike. They''d supplemented xir provisions for a while afterward.


    "And you didn''t worry they''d be poisonous?" asked Doople. "Carcinogenic, maybe?"


    "I did," said Rakkel. "But sometimes you have to take risks. Anyway, they were grapes. They were supposed to be edible. Whoever''d modified them wanted them to be edible. Even the grapes themselves wanted to be edible, from an evolutionary standpoint. They''d certainly managed not to be seedless anymore."


    "But what happened to your bike?"


    "Without going into the embarrassing details, I wrecked it," xe said. "Just outside the city. It''s hidden under a bush. Or at least, it was when I left it. I hope it''s still there."


    "You could bring it here, if you''d like," he said. "I''ll watch over it."


    "You barely have room for it! No, it''s fine."


    "You sure? I could hang it up on the ceiling. It wouldn''t be in the way."


    "Doople, we barely know each other." Xe shook xir head. "I came to this city all ready to be distrustful of strangers. Then the first person I meet - by accident - treats me like I''m family. At least Welton actually is part of your family."


    "Yeah, but not by blood," said Doople. "My momma was his da''s business partner. Listen, I just think it''s right for people to be good to each other. To help each other. You know?"


    "Well, yeah," said Rakkel. "I mean, I agree."


    "If it''d been me standing outside your door in the rain, would you turn me away?" he asked.


    "Probably not." said Rakkel. "At least, I hope I wouldn''t."


    "There you go."


    But you threw Welton out, xe didn''t say, and now he''s out there in the rain somewhere. Why?


    "I still can''t figure Welton out," xe said. "He seems very immature."


    "Ha! Yeah, I''d say so," said Doople.


    "But earnest. And lonely."


    "That''s about the size of it," said Doople. "So what can''t you figure out, then?"


    "That''s how you see him? But you threw Welton out," xe said after all, "and now he''s out there in the rain somewhere-"


    "Yunno, he''s more spoiled than he wants to be," said Doople. "I''ve heard him go on about his parents. And I think part of it is, he''s scared that he really is who he thinks they were trying to make him into. And the sad thing is, he''s kinda right."Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    "So?"


    "So the way I see it, if I can knock some of the immaturity off''f him, that''s all for the best, yeah? So I''m teaching him a lesson. He''ll be fine, I''m sure."


    "He showed up at my hostel last night," said Rakkel. "Passed out drunk at the front gate. I found him there and carried him up to my room."


    "Huh. Don''t think he has much experience drinking. I''m glad you found him."


    "He said you''d be worried about him."


    "He was right, I was." Doople shook his head. "He''s got a lot of growing up to do all at once."


    "I just think, to come back here and immediately get thrown out... you don''t think that''s a tad much?"


    Doople frowned, or at least he frowned a little bit more than his default frown. "Maybe," he said. "Guess I didn''t know about that when I did it. But that''s the thing about consequences, Rakkel: They happen when they happen. You can''t go about expecting them to wait until you''re ready to face them. Not how life works."


    "Yeah, but this particular consequence isn''t just ''life.'' It''s under your control. You have the ability to make things better," said Rakkel. "Which is the only way they ever get better. We''ve got to push back against ''life''s not fair,'' if we think fairness is worth having. Don''t you think? It''s part of people being good to each other. Why it matters."


    "I really meant it, though," said Doople. "I can''t have him ruining my business. He needs to learn this lesson if he''s going to stay with me. I think he can learn it, but there''s a difference between ''can do'' and ''has done.''"


    Rakkel boggled. "What''d he do, anyway? How could he ruin your business?"


    "If you want to know, find him and ask him. Not my place to tell you. But you never answered me. What can''t you figure out about him?"


    Rakkel thought about this, and realized what bothered xir the most. "Er... does he like women? Or men? Or...?"


    "Ah, you have a thing for him?"


    "I think he has a thing for me. Or at least, maybe he does - that''s what I can''t figure out. Not really sure how to deal with it," xe admitted.


    "You say you brought him up to your room when you found him passed-out drunk?"


    "Yeah. Fortunately, there was an empty bunk."


    "Hmm," said Doople.


    "The thing is, I''m not really a man or a woman," xe said. "And I''m not really attracted to him. I''m not really sure how attraction works, to be honest."


    "Eh? Not really a man or a woman?" Doople blinked in confusion. "Is that normal for leezurs?"


    "''Lemurs,''" corrected Rakkel. "It''s normal for people where I''m from, lemur or otherwise. Um. If you''re really good friends with someone, sometimes you go in on genders with xir, one way or another. And then you might get a bio mod so you can experience sexual attraction. Or just the latter, if you can''t really figure out a gender that works for you."


    Doople looked perplexed. "Is that so?" he said.


    "Yeah, but I''ve never really been close enough to anyone to go for that," xe said. "Got some friends back home I''ll cuddle with, of course, but that''s all."


    "Oh," said Doople. "Er... oh."


    "I know things are very different along the river cities," xe said. "More traditional."


    Doople''s brow was furrowed. "I know some folks who use bio mods to go from man to woman or woman to man," he said. "Did it myself when I was young, actually."


    "Sure," said Rakkel.


    "Seems weird to me not to be either, though."


    Rakkel shrugged. "Honestly, it''s always seemed weird to me that it''s even a thing," xe said. "Never saw the point of it. But other people seem to enjoy it, so I guess, more power to them. Some of my parents are gendered," xe added.


    "Er," said Doople again.


    "But people outside my community sometimes mistake me for a girl," xe said. "Just because I''m skinny, I guess. And I think maybe Welton''s done that. And I''m not sure how to explain that I''m not? I don''t want to hurt his feelings."


    "Wish I could help," said Doople, "but I''m having trouble with it too. So you don''t have attraction until you''ve already got a relationship?"


    "That''s what I said," said Rakkel, patiently. Xe felt a tad surprised that Doople was experiencing so much confusion over this. It seemed straightforward to xir.


    "Which bathroom do you use?" asked Doople.


    "Whichever''s closest," said Rakkel.


    "Huh," said Doople.


    "I do want to be friends with him," xe added. "I mean, he irritated me at first, but I think he''s basically okay."


    "Would you... would you ''go in on genders'' with him?"


    "What? No! I mean, ask me again after I''ve known him for years instead of days. Anyway, he''s already got a gender."


    "Would you cuddle with him?"


    "Probably, yeah. If he wanted to. But he might take it the wrong way, wouldn''t he? If he''s got some kind of crush on me, I don''t want to make things worse."


    "Huh," said Doople. "Okay. Er, would you cuddle with me?"


    "Absolutely," xe said. "You want to? This is good weather for a nice cuddle." xe reached an arm out.


    "No!" he shouted, pushing xir arm away. "No, I''d rather not."


    "Ah. Okay. It did kind of surprise me that you asked. You don''t seem like the cuddly sort."


    "Sorry," he said, "I didn''t mean I wanted to. Just curious."


    "No worries," xe said, rubbing xir arm.


    Doople sat back and cleared his throat. "Well, I already knew you were a weirdo," he said, amiably. "Guess this is just part of your weirdo-ness."


    Rakkel felt like xe should take offense at that, but didn''t. Xe''d meant it when xe''d said xe''d cuddle with Doople, and xe wasn''t willing to get that physically close with just anyone. But xe trusted him and, at this point, liked him. In fact, the ''weirdo'' thing was part of it: He might not be able to understand or appreciate some aspects of xir identity, but he didn''t let it get in the way of his basic respect for xir as a person. He was able to put it aside and not worry about it. Xe supposed he could do better than that, but he could do a whole lot worse, too. For xir, it was enough.


    "As far as Welton goes," he added, "I don''t think he knows what he likes. Does he have a thing for you? Does he just like that you''re a weirdo, like him? I don''t think there even is an answer yet. He''s still figuring it all out himself. Could go either way. But regardless, you shouldn''t be afraid of it. Help him out. Tell him what you''re about, and that''ll let him know what he can expect, or hope for, or whatever. He''s lived a very sheltered life. He needs all the help he can get."


    "If I ever see him again."


    "You''ll see him again. He''ll be back here, for sure. And I hope you will, too. I need more weirdos around. Stops me from getting complacent," he said.


    Xe pictured Welton sitting wet and miserable on a street corner somewhere, his nose still leaking blood, his ears drooping, his clothes still messy from the previous night.


    "You could''ve at least waited until the rain stopped before throwing him out," xe said.


    "Didn''t know it was going to rain," said Doople, apologetically.


    "Do you know where he went?" xe asked, thinking, I should really go after him.


    "Yeah, but I''m not telling you. This is his business. He needs to do it on his own. A little rain never killed anyone."


    There was a knock at the door.


    "Maybe that''s him," said Rakkel, jumping up.


    "I''m not letting him in if it is," said Doople, firmly. "That''d ruin everything." He beat Rakkel to the door and opened it a crack.


    "Oh," he said. "Who''re you, and what do you want?"


    "Is there a ''Rakkel'' here?" said an unfamiliar voice.


    Doople looked suspiciously back at xir, but saw xe looked totally perplexed.


    "Are you here?" he mouthed at xir.


    Xe shrugged. "Sure," xe mouthed back.


    "Yeah, there''s a ''Rakkel'' here," he said. "Come on in. Huh, at this rate I should stop selling street food and start hosting weirdo conventions." He stepped back, and in walked an anthropomorphic porpoise.

 Chapter Fifteen

    Welton knew one thing for sure: He wasn''t going to extend any sort of olive branch to Havid. He wasn''t going to go near the man. His exile from Doople''s apartment, therefore, was permanent.


    He thought this as he trudged across one of the bridges that crossed the Sedge, no particular destination in mind. Forash, he knew, had several lovely bridges which arced majestically over the water, attracting tourists from far away to come and visit each in turn, and this was none of those. It had rust all over. It bowed precariously in the middle. It rattled in the wind.


    But if it wasn''t safe, he reasoned, it''d be chained off, wouldn''t it? Or at least there would be a sign posted.


    A ripple of thunder sounded in the near distance.


    There hadn''t been any clouds earlier, he thought. They''d rolled in while Doople was chewing him out. Appropriate, he thought. How appropriate.


    What was he going to do now?


    He needed somewhere to stay, obviously. He could go back to the hostels-


    He didn''t have any money. He kept forgetting about that. He wasn''t used to it at all. Some craven part of him kept insisting it would be an easy problem to fix - he just needed to get in touch with his parents, make some apologies, debase himself a little. Promise to come home. The promise could turn out to be a lie, couldn''t it? It could turn out to be a lie or not, and he wouldn''t even have to decide yet when he said it. He could go home or not go home, his choice. He could tell them what they wanted to hear, then think things over. So it wouldn''t be like he was lying to their faces, as such. It would just be... an expression of overconfidence in a particular future. Meanwhile, they''d send him some money, easy, because it meant little to them and they''d hate to think of their son being poor.


    So the craven part of him argued.


    His pride, of course, would have none of it, and some other part as well. He had to move forward in life, not backwards. He had to figure this out for himself.


    But if he didn''t go begging to his parents for money, he had no money. And if he had no money, he had nowhere to stay. He didn''t want to sleep on the street, that was for sure.


    He racked his brain. Maybe Salmidon would put him up for a night or two? No, that was ridiculous.


    Rakkel had gotten away with staying at her hostel without paying, he thought. The lady had just handed over the key card and gone back to sleep. Of course, there was no way Welton was ever going near that particular hostel again. But maybe he could pull off the same thing at a different one. Maybe he could pull off the same thing at all of them, one by one, slinking away without paying every morning and checking into a new one when night fell.


    And then what?


    His hooves clanked on the metal grille of the bridge''s floor. One of his favorite things about being a pig was that he could go barefoot - but here it seemed treacherous. The holes in the grille caught at his hoof-tips greedily. They were the perfect size, almost, for his hoof-toes to slip right in. He imagined getting his leg stuck. He imagined tripping and breaking a bone, or getting a leg so hopelessly stuck he couldn''t remove it. He imagined lying there on top of the bridge, yammering and pleading for help as the first raindrops came down, his cries drowned out by the river.


    The first raindrops came down.


    Hadn''t he packed an umbrella somewhere in his duffel? He set it down by the side of the bridge and rooted through it.


    These were his familiar, old things: His clothes, his books, his personal possessions from across the days of his childhood. He''d gotten this umbrella - he pulled it out from under a pair of pants - many, many years ago, on a trip upriver with his family. They''d forgotten to pack him one, and then it had begun to rain. So they''d gone to this little outpost on the river, where they''d had a furious argument with the trader over nothing much in particular and then bought the fanciest, classiest umbrella available - the one with the self-repairing fabric and the reinforced handle. Welton, a mere spectator to the arrangement, had it jammed into his hands, whereupon he went outside and immediately lost it to the wind. He''d last spotted it upside down in the river, handle like a mast, drifting slowly away.


    They''d dragged Welton back into the shop to shout at him for a while, then to have another argument with the trader, and finally to purchase a replacement umbrella. Except there weren''t any fancy umbrellas left. He had a vague recollection that the fancy umbrella had been the trader''s own, personal umbrella. They''d bullied the trader into selling it after spotting it in the umbrella stand next to the door.


    So they''d bought this plain one instead. It was a simple but durable folding umbrella of pink cloth and red wood. He''d insisted on the pink one because it was the color of pigs. His parents had insisted that pink wasn''t a respectable color, but at this point, their patience had already worn thin and they gave up quickly. It''d been one of the few times he''d actually had his way over theirs.


    Over the years, he''d needed to patch it a couple of times, and to repair the folding mechanism several times. Later, he''d also sewn some photovoltaic film onto the cloth to power a little LED he''d installed in the handle as an emergency flashlight.


    It was only an umbrella, at the end of the day. But he had history with it.


    He put it up now, keeping the handle loop wrapped tightly around his wrist, as he always did. The rain dribbled onto it. He kept walking.


    He reached the other side of the bridge without incident. He did not break a leg, or trap a foot, or plunge into the river below as the bridge collapsed beneath him. Whatever awful trajectory his life was on, it didn''t point quite so steeply downwards as that. Though you never knew how things might turn out, he thought. Fantasies fleeted through his mind about toppling from the bridge, landing on a passing boat, and being taken in by a band of roving river-pirates. He imagined finding camaraderie, eventually becoming their captain, playing out his days raiding villages with his boisterous crew. Many years later, he thought, he''d look back and reflect on what his life might have been like if the bridge hadn''t chosen to collapse at that fortuitous moment.


    Except it hadn''t, and now he had to find out the hard way.


    Oh well. If nothing else, he was sure there must be someone in this city who needed the services of a holo-scribe.


    In fact, come to think of it, he knew just where to look.


    The porpoise wore a shiny yellow rain hat, a shiny yellow rain coat, a pair of shiny yellow boots, and a green backpack. They dripped on the floor. Their round grey snout, also wet with rain, looked just as shiny as the hat and the boots.


    "Hi," they said. "You''re Rakkel?"A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Rakkel nodded, confused.


    "I was paid to come here and tell you that Madame Flore wants to meet with you," they said. "And to bring you to her."


    "What, really? Already? How did she even know I was here?" Rakkel tried to remember if xe''d mentioned Doople''s shop during their conversation yesterday. Xe didn''t think xe had.


    "No idea. All I know is, I''m supposed to fetch you back to a particular location, and then I get the second half of my payment." They looked around. "This isn''t really what I was expecting," they said. "What is this place? Oh, my name''s Essabrou, by the way."


    "Charmed," said Rakkel. "It''s a meat... food... shop." Xe looked over at Doople.


    "It''s the finest late-night eatery in this half of the city," he said. "I sell vat meat buns, dumplings, meat stew, gyros, refreshing beverages, and the like." He smiled proudly for just a moment.


    "Right, that," said Rakkel.


    "An eatery?" asked the porpoise. "Do you do fish?"


    "Not my specialty, but I''ve got some. The fried cod tacos are pretty decent - that''d be my recommendation if it''s fish you''re after. Technically not open for business right now, though."


    Essabrou looked over at the empty stew bowl where Rakkel had been sitting. "Oh, no worries," they said. "That''s fine."


    "Sorry, it''s just that most of the equipment''s shut down and it takes time to cook. Rakkel''s a special guest," he added. "But you''re welcome to stay here until the rain stops."


    "No," said Essabrou, quickly. "I like the rain."


    "But Rakkel-"


    "It''s fine," said Rakkel, who''d already put on xir poncho again. "I might as well get this over with."


    Doople nodded. "Suit yourself. You''re welcome back any time, of course. And if you need a place to stay-"


    "I don''t want to take Welton''s bunk," said Rakkel.


    "Eh, you can take mine again if it comes to that," said Doople. "I don''t mind."


    Rakkel didn''t want to do that, but xe didn''t want to argue, either. Xe merely said, "Thanks," and followed Essabrou out the door.


    "Madame Flore didn''t tell me you''d be another bio modder," said Essabrou as they walked out of the alley and into the street.


    "Yup, I am," said Rakkel. Not, xe thought, that it really needed confirmation. The fluffy ears and all made it pretty obvious.


    "I''m a porpoise. Not, as most people assume, a dolphin. I like to get that out up front," they said. "There''s never a good time to bring it up naturally in conversation."


    "What''s the difference?" asked Rakkel, genuinely curious.


    "Our snouts are much blunter, for one," they said. "And our teeth are different."


    "Ah."


    "And you''re some kind of raccoon?"


    "A lemur," said Rakkel.


    "Huh. Okay."


    "Kind of like a monkey."


    "Ah," said Essabrou. "Gotcha."


    "What does she want me for?" asked Rakkel.


    "Who? Madame Flore?"


    "Yeah."


    "I don''t really know. All she told me was that she wanted me to fetch you, and that she''d pay me a thousand credits up front, a thousand on delivery. For that kind of money, I''m not so keen on being impolite and asking nosy questions."


    "Is that a lot for this sort of thing?"


    "Isn''t it?" Essabrou stared at Rakkel. "They pay me seventeen credits a day to unload cargo. Of course, they''re underpaying me, but still."


    "Interesting," said Rakkel. "She seems very ready to throw money around. She''s paying me five thousand a day to do nothing."


    "What? To do nothing?"


    "She said she might call on me later with some more specific job," clarified Rakkel. "Which is what this is, I assume."


    "What''s the job?"


    "No idea yet."


    "I mean in general."


    "Still no idea."


    Essabrou whistled. They had a strong whistle. "Maybe she''s insane," they said. "Giving away so much money for so little."


    "I don''t like her," said Rakkel. "Listen, I don''t know you or anything, but you should stay away from her. I don''t even know how she knew I was at Doople''s place. And she tried to... well, she helped me set up an account," xe said. "To keep my money in."


    "Yeah, she did one for me, too. Is that bad? She just seemed friendly to me."


    "But now she controls your account," said Rakkel.


    "Does she? Well, that''s fine, right? Makes it easier for her to deposit credits. Just as long as it links properly to my global account, I''m fine, right?"


    "Your global account?"


    "Yeah, for the other river cities. I''ve never even been to Forash before, and I''m leaving again in a couple of days, so it''s not like I need my city account for much. Just to keep the money until I transfer it over."


    "How do you get a global account?"


    "Sign up for one at any terminal connected to the River Cities Financial Network."


    "I see," said Rakkel. "Interesting. Mme. Flore didn''t mention that to me."


    "She didn''t talk about it with me, either, come to think of it," said Essabrou. "But of course I already had one from when I signed on as a stevedore. Have to collect my pay somehow."


    "Does nobody around here use coins?"


    "What''re coins?"


    Rakkel felt disappointed. Xe''d been looking forward to coins. Xe''d read all about them, and had a small collection back home. The fascinating thing about coins, xe thought, was how useless they were as objects. Just little round bits of metal, too small and too thick to serve as practical tools for almost any purpose. And the art on them! Images and text and flourishes and the portraits of famous people long dead and forgotten, all in a kind of aimless mishmash over both sides. Almost elegant in its pointlessness. It fell short of being real art, but still showed more artistry than most mundane objects. Most of the coins xe got xir paws on had become hideously corroded or worn down, so part of the fun was figuring out how to clean and restore them, or in some cases, how to even figure out what they''d originally looked like before their faces had smoothed over beyond recognition. Xe''d written a computer program just to detect minute patterns in their textures and coloration. The program helped, but one couldn''t ever be certain one had gotten it right.


    "Coins are little bits of metal used for money," xe explained.


    "Huh? Little bits of... but, why?"


    "For one thing, you don''t need to have a computer account just to have money," xe said.


    "Okay, but then how do you transfer it?"


    "Just by handing it over."


    "Oh," said Essabrou. "Right. Of course."


    They looked embarrassed, so Rakkel changed the subject. "What''s a stevedore?" xe asked.


    "A cargo handler. It''s not a great job, but it''s the only one I could find. People don''t want to hire a body modder."


    "They don''t?"


    "That''s what''s so exciting about Madame Flore! She''s one herself, so she doesn''t care. I''m hoping I can talk her into keeping me around. I could keep doing courier jobs for her. I know the rivers pretty well, so I could do courier jobs for her between cities, even."


    "Sure," agreed Rakkel, "might be fun. But there''s got to be someone else who''d hire you to do that. Doesn''t she creep you out?"


    "What, because she''s a shark?"


    "No," Rakkel began to say, but then xe wondered if that was all there was to xir suspicions. She hadn''t, when it came down to it, actually done anything malicious. Had she?


    How had she been able to find Rakkel so easily? Rakkel didn''t even know xe was going back to Doople''s xirself until earlier in the morning. And xe''d only been there for about an hour, tops.


    "Where is she meeting me, anyway?" xe asked.


    "She said a gazebo in the park. Dunno, though. It wasn''t raining then. Are you going to run away?"


    "I''d have just not gone with you in the first place," said Rakkel. "But I bet she''d keep coming after me if I did run away. I''m better off turning down her offer to her face. Whatever it winds up being."


    "Will you turn her down for sure? I don''t get what you''re worried about. She just seemed friendly to me," they said again. "Maybe she''ll have a really easy job for you that''ll pay stupid amounts of credits. If she''s willing to give out five thousand a day for nothing, who knows what she''ll give you for actual work?"


    Rakkel had to admit that having the five thousand from today did feel good, in that it meant that a lot of problems xe''d otherwise have were prematurely solved. Food, for one, and shelter. But then again, xe''d solved them anyway - admittedly through luck, and xe didn''t want to lean on Doople''s good will too hard - but it wasn''t as though xe really needed the credits for anything. Besides, it sounded as though the five thousand xe already had would go a long way if xe didn''t donate them all to a creepy AR device repair guy again. Xe didn''t need more.


    Except xe did need them as a buy-in, xe thought, remembering how xe''d felt yesterday when xe realized xe''d lost everything xe had to sell and wasn''t sure xe''d get anything in return for it. The game of the marketplace still enticed xir. Wasn''t that why xe''d come to this city to begin with? But Xe needed something new to sell, and xe didn''t see how to get that for free. With more money, xe could buy the metal to make more rings, or other jewelry, or maybe something else entirely.


    "It''s over there," said Essabrou, pointing through the rain.


    It wasn''t a large park. Just a big, triangular grassy patch in between where the streets met at an angle, and then another city block worth of grass and trees jutting out from the triangle''s side. The gazebo sat in the middle like a self-important turtle, blurred and dim, housing the possibility of a seated figure.


    A hulking, black car was parked at one edge of the grassy triangle. Rakkel hadn''t seen many cars before. Xe looked at it with interest.


    "Hurry up," added Essabrou. "She said she''d give me a bonus if I brought you back soon enough."


    Rakkel followed across the wet grass.

 Chapter Sixteen

    Mme. Flore looked up from a paperback book she''d been reading as the pair approached her. She stood, tucked the book into her purse, and adjusted the folds of her long, black dress.


    "One Rakkel for you, ma''am," said Essabrou, brightly.


    "Very good. Commendable. You''re earlier than I expected," she said. "I think that deserves a bonus." She pulled a notebook out of her purse and made a note. "Do you have an AR device? If not, I''ll have to transfer the money later, when I''m at a terminal."


    Essabrou unslung their backpack and began rooting around in it.


    "There''s no need to stand there in the rain," said Mme. Flore to Rakkel. "Come up here where it''s dry."


    Rakkel stepped hesitantly onto the first step of the gazebo.


    "I won''t bite, ha ha ha," she added, smiling all of her shark fangs at Rakkel as she said it.


    "How did you know where to find me?" asked Rakkel.


    "Oh, I have my ways," said Mme. Flore, waving her webbed fingers about in what was probably meant to be a mysterious gesture, but looked instead like she''d gotten something stuck on them and was trying to shake it off.


    "Here it is," said Essabrou, producing the brick of cardboard. They held it carefully in both hands and quickly moved under the edge of the gazebo, obviously not wanting to risk it getting too wet.


    "Oh," said Mme. Flore. "Is that all you''ve got?" She grimaced at the barebones device.


    "Yeah," said Essabrou.


    "Maybe it''s easier if I just do it later," she said. "From a terminal. It''ll be... more secure that way."


    "No way! This thing works just fine. I want my payment now."


    "You don''t trust me to do it later? I''m hurt," said Mme. Flore.


    "Listen," said Essabrou, "we''re both creatures of business, you and I. We know how the world works. I''m sure you wouldn''t walk away without payment for a job you''ve done either."


    "No," said Mme. Flore, "I''m a woman of business, and that means I''m a woman of her word. If I say I''ll pay you later, I''ll pay you later. Or else I lose something more precious and infinitely harder to acquire than money: My reputation. I don''t know," she added, "what you are. But you''ve a long way to go before you even begin to understand business." Her sneer was subtle, but it was a definite sneer.


    Essabrou''s face creased up. "I didn''t mean any offense," they said. "I''m sorry, ma''am. I just meant-"


    "I''ve already paid you the first part of your fee, haven''t I?"


    "Yes, ma''am. You have."


    "So you have no reason to doubt me."


    "No, ma''am. But..."


    "But?"


    "But I do have an AR device right here. It''s not as though you couldn''t pay me now."


    "Those cheap cardboard units barely count," she said. "For all I know, it''s loaded up with viruses or something."


    "Viruses? No! I''ve been using it for weeks now, no problem."


    "You can borrow mine, if you want," said Rakkel.


    They both looked at xir.


    "That works, doesn''t it? You should be able to sign out of my account and into yours. Right?" Xe would have to take the time to sit down with it and learn how it actually worked sooner or later. But xe was pretty sure that was possible.


    "I don''t see why everybody keeps giving me crap about the one I''ve got," said Essabrou, "but okay, I''m fine with that. Thanks."


    Rakkel handed the chunky black plastic visor over to Essabrou while Mme. Flore watched, her expression unreadable. Rakkel wondered, glancing over at her, whether she had to go out of her way even to make readable facial expressions appear on that beady-eyed torpedo of a face.


    "So, what do you want me for?" xe asked her while Essabrou fumbled with xir AR visor.


    "I''ll tell you when this one leaves," she said.


    "Might as well tell me now," xe said. "It''ll save us both some time, since I don''t think I''m going to be interested anyway."


    "You''re wrong about that," she said. "You''ll be interested in this."


    "I''ve got half a mind to walk away right now," xe said.


    "That would be a mistake."The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    "A mistake? Why would it be a mistake? Is that supposed to be some kind of threat?"


    "It would be a mistake," said Mme. Flore, "because you''d be missing out on an opportunity that I think you''ll like."


    "You''ve already been spying on me," said Rakkel. "You had me followed or something. Or else you wouldn''t have known where to send Essabrou to find me. As far as I''m concerned, that''s already threatening."


    "I''ve been doing no such thing."


    "Then how did you find me?"


    She said nothing.


    "Got it," said Essabrou. "I think." They looked up at Mme. Flore through the visor''s long, narrow lens, holding it to their face with both hands against the bits that should''ve hooked over their ears.


    Mme. Flore pulled a small, sleek, single-lensed device out of her purse, held it to her left eye, and transferred the money. From the outside, this was invisible. Rakkel wondered if xe''d be able to see anything pass between the two devices if xe had a third device to look through.


    "Oh," said Essabrou, their face falling. "I thought you said you''d give me a bonus."


    "I did," said Mme. Flore. "I never said it would be a large bonus."


    "But I brought Rakkel here so quickly, I thought-"


    "And then you proceeded to waste my time. I''m deducting the time wasted from the bonus, since I still haven''t been able to talk to him-"


    "Xir," corrected Rakkel.


    "Pardon me?"


    "I''m not a ''him,''" xe said. "I''m a ''xir.''"


    "You''re a what?"


    "I use ''xe/xir'' pronouns. Because," xe explained, "I''m neither male, nor female."


    "That doesn''t make any sense," said Mme. Flore. "How can you be neither male nor female?"


    Rakkel had no idea how to answer this question. It seemed straightforward to xir.


    "Never mind," she said, "it''s beside the point. The point is, thank you for your service, Essabrou. Now, please leave."


    Essabrou quickly handed Rakkel''s visor over to xir and backed away from the gazebo, then hesitated. "Er," they said, "I also thought, if you have anything else you might need me to do-"


    "Please leave," said Mme. Flore again.


    "It''s just, I''ll be in town for a few days still, and-"


    "Now," said Mme. Flore.


    They ran away through the rain.


    "Essabrou was very polite, fetching me," said Rakkel. "And prompt. We came directly here. Whatever it is you want me to do, you might be better off asking them to do it. They think very highly of you." Unlike me, xe almost added.


    "No," said Mme. Flore, "I want you for this. You have the right kind of spirit for it."


    "Yeah," said Rakkel, "but, see, the problem is, I don''t want to do it. I don''t really care how much you''re paying."


    "I''m not paying," said Mme. Flore. "I''m offering a partnership."


    "A what? Huh?"


    "Oh, not a full partnership," she said, laughing. "Not in my business. But I have some goods I''d like to unload at the marketplace, and I don''t have time to oversee it personally. I thought you might like to do it for me."


    "I don''t-"


    "For a cut of the profits."


    Rakkel hesitated.


    "Seeing as how I bought out your whole stock yesterday. Or do you have more rings?"


    "I don''t," admitted Rakkel.


    "But I can tell you''re interested in the marketplace. You''re interested in learning how it works."


    "But I don''t know how it works," said Rakkel. "I didn''t even know what price to set, or how to accept payment. I thought you''d pay me in physical coins."


    "And you made the sale anyway."


    "Because you took pity on me."


    "Because you impressed me with your fast thinking and bold spirit. And because I liked your product." She touched the base of her neck, right above her dorsal fin. Rakkel''s gaze followed her hand and saw that she''d pierced the fin and put one of the rings in it - the one with the red and orange band inside the silver.


    "So you don''t want me to work for you, you want me to work with you."


    "Exactly. I provide the wares. You provide the labor. This lets you build a reputation in the market. A presence. I''ll even help you register with the market authorities."


    "Register?"


    She smirked. "Yes. You''re supposed to register. I suspected when I saw you yesterday that you''d missed that step. It isn''t a terribly strict rule, but they do like to keep a database. And once you''re in the directory, you''ll get all sorts of benefits. Such as, people will actually be able to find you."


    "There''s a directory?"


    "See? You need my help. And right now, I need yours. So we help each other. We both win. That''s business."


    Rakkel hadn''t thought that anything the shark lady could possibly say would interest xir. But xe hadn''t considered this.


    "What happens after?" xe asked.


    "You give me my share of the profits," she said, "and then we part ways. No obligations. But if you''re worried about it, I do intend to keep you on retainer. Depending on how well you do."


    "Oh, so there is a catch," xe said.


    "I''m sure you''ll do fine. But if it''s a complete disaster, I''d want to cut my losses, wouldn''t I?"


    "So this is also another test."


    "Everything''s a test," said Mme. Flore. "That''s how life works."


    "But what are the goods?" xe said.


    Mme. Flore told xir.


    "Oh," xe said. "Huh. Interesting. Wow. They sell that sort of thing here?"


    Welton stood at the base of a huge tower.


    The tower stood at the end of a pier. It rose five stories and, at its top, projected a brilliant T of light across the water and across the city on its opposite side. The two beams of light rotated slowly around the tower''s crown. The heavy rain stippled them with streaks, hints of prism colors flickering along the edges of the drops.


    Forash Lighthouse stood in the crook of the Aeltspring, opposite the market''s western extremity. It dominated the city''s admittedly simple skyline. Welton had wanted an excuse to visit ever since he''d arrived, and at last, here he was.


    He goggled up at it through the shroud of rain that fell from the edges of his umbrella.


    Of course, the beams were there just as much for effect as they were to warn river boats away from the shore. Both banks of both rivers had smaller, less ostentatious lights running along them at regular intervals, which worked just fine on their own and could throw out enough lumens to cut through the thickest fogs.


    But river traffic got complicated sometimes, especially here in the great, churning lake where the waters met and then separated again. It needed to be coordinated. This was the lighthouse''s first real purpose: To provide a station for traffic coordinators to look out across the lake from a bird''s-eye view.


    Its second real purpose was to be a landmark. Every city needed one or two of those, right? Somewhere for tourists to go and see, or for people to agree to meet for a date, or to make pictures of the city immediately recognizable. It was a brand. And as a brand, as a tourist attraction, it would naturally try to make itself flashy.


    Adjusting a slider on the side of his AR spectacles, Welton brought the beam into focus. A cascade of holo-cubes swirled around the lighthouse beam in a regular helix, growing and shrinking and cycling through a spectrum of fully-saturated colors.


    Perfect, he thought. It''s amateurish, lazy, and uninteresting. I could do better. I could do a lot better.


    Somewhere in his duffel, he had a tiny portable holo-projector with his demo reel on it. He already had ideas for adopting some of the designs he''d made to look good when projected around the beams.


    He walked up to the lighthouse door and rapped on it with his thick, black fingernails.

 Chapter Seventeen

    The door opened, and a man stepped out.


    He had medium-brown skin, high cheekbones, curly hair, and to Welton''s surprise, wasn''t a pelican.


    That is to say, he gave the ineffable impression that he ought to be a pelican. Or so Welton thought. He didn''t have a pouchy neck, but it looked like he would have if only he hadn''t lost weight recently. His nose wasn''t especially large or long or anything, but it looked small and out of place in the middle of his face. Welton could imagine the man diving into the water to snatch up fish in the beak he hadn''t got.


    A badge pinned to his tweed jacket identified him as "Fleric."


    "We''re closed," he said, and shut the door again.


    Welton knocked a second time. "I''m here for the job opening," he said.


    The door opened. "What job opening?" Fleric asked.


    "The job opening you''ll have once I show you what I can do," said Welton, smugly.


    The door closed again.


    Welton knocked once more.


    "Stop bothering me," said Fleric, this time without opening it. "I''m trying to do a crossword puzzle."


    "A what?"


    "A crossword puzzle. It''s a type of puzzle," Fleric explained, "with words. A word puzzle. And the words cross each other."


    "Can you put it aside for later or something? I want to speak with you. It''s important."


    "This crossword puzzle is what''s important. I have to concentrate on it if I''m ever going to solve it. But you keep interrupting me. What do you want, anyway?"


    "I want you to hire me," said Welton, who felt he''d already made this pretty clear.


    "We''re not hiring."


    "But you will be," he said, deciding to try this line again, "once I show you what I can do."


    The expected "and what is that, exactly?" never came.


    "I''m a holo-scribe," he supplied.


    The expected "oh, a holo-scribe! Come in and show me samples of your work" also never came.


    He waited several more seconds, just in case, but there was only silence.


    Obviously, some other strategy was called for here.


    He knocked on the door yet again, then without waiting for an answer, called out "What are the clues?"


    "Pardon?"


    "To solve the word puzzle. What are the clues that help you figure out what word it is?"


    "''Food of the Gods (e.g. dark),'' nine letters. I thought it was ''chocolate,'' but it seems to start with a T. Or else this other one here isn''t ''tallyho.''"


    Welton heard the sound of a finger tapping paper, as if Fleric was pointing something out to him.


    "That''s easy," he said. "It must be-"


    "Wait! I didn''t say I wanted you to solve it for me, did I? I don''t want you to solve it. The point is that I''m supposed to solve it."


    "Okay," said Welton. "Just let me know if you give up."


    He waited.


    "Does it actually begin with a T?" Fleric asked.


    "Yes," he said. "Definitely."


    "Okay..."


    He waited again. The rain seemed to have lessened around him.


    "Is it ''tambrosia''?" Fleric asked.


    "I don''t think that''s a real word," said Welton.


    "No, no, I suppose not. Wishful thinking."


    Welton sat down on the doorstep, where it was dry. He splashed a puddle idly with his foot.


    "''Tencoffee,''" Fleric guessed. "A dark roast. But gods wouldn''t be satisfied with just one coffee, so-"


    "You''re way off," said Welton. "It''s just one word."


    "Don''t tell me! Don''t tell me!"


    "Okay, okay," said Welton.


    "How about ''tamarinds''?"


    "What are those?"


    "A kind of brown, pod-shaped tropical fruit," said Fleric. "They grow on trees. In tropical areas. I don''t know what gods have to do with them, but I don''t know everything."


    "You''re very close," said Welton.


    "I am?"


    "Sort of, yeah."


    "''Tamarisks''?"


    "Do people eat those?"


    "Uh... I''m not sure."


    "It''s wrong, anyway. I meant conceptually close. Actually, you already guessed it earlier. Technically," he added.


    "I did?"


    "Absolutely."


    "Wait, you mean I already guessed the right answer? But you didn''t tell me?"


    "No, you didn''t guess the right answer. But you did guess the right thing."


    "Huh?"


    "I''ll be right here when you''re ready to give up."


    "Are you sure it isn''t ''chocolate''?" Fleric asked. "It seems to fit the clue very well. You can have dark chocolate."


    Welton said nothing.


    Minutes passed. Welton twirled his umbrella, then splashed the puddle again, then stood up and stretched.


    "Give me a hint," said Fleric at last.


    "I''ve given you plenty of hints," said Welton.


    "Give me another one."


    "Let me in," he said, "so I can see it properly."Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    "Why do you need to see it properly if you already know the answer?"


    "It''ll help me know what''s a good hint to give you," said Welton.


    "How will it help you do that?"


    "I won''t know until I see it, will I?"


    There was an irritated sigh, and then the door opened again. This time, Fleric stepped back so Welton could enter.


    It was a round, tall room, full of little plaques and displays. Near one wall, black-framed couches with forest-green cushions surrounded a coffee table. On another wall stood a bank of elevators, dusty with disuse, next to a staircase running up to the next floor in a glorious curve. A sign in front of the stairs read "Employees Only."


    The man sat on a wooden stool immediately next to the door. He had his word puzzle spread out on a podium in front of him. Welton came around the podium to look over his shoulder.


    "Oh," said Welton, "so that''s a crossword puzzle. Do words go in all the white squares?"


    "Yes," said Fleric. "Based on these clues." He pointed at the clues. "It''s a very tricky one," he added. "For experts only."


    "Is that why you''ve only figured out ''tallyho'' so far?"


    "It''s a very, very tricky one," said Fleric.


    "What about the rest of these clues?"


    "I haven''t figured any of them out yet."


    "So if you solve some of these words, it tells you about the other words because of the way they overlap? Interesting. Maybe you should try to get more letters in this one by doing that," suggested Welton.


    "Yes," said Fleric, "that''s part of the way these puzzles are supposed to work. But I can''t figure any of the other ones out, either."


    "Oh, I know this one, too," said Welton. "''Deer pig.'' Eight letters, descending from the fifth letter of the one you can''t get. And this one next to it! ''Defender of all,'' which refers to the end of the AI wars, when-"


    "Hold on, hold on, one at a time!" said Fleric. "I said I wanted a hint."


    "Okay, uh... the fifth letter is ''b,''" said Welton.


    "That''s a very direct hint," said Fleric.


    "Is that bad? I could say something vague and tricky, but you''ve got a whole list of riddles here already. I thought maybe you''d appreciate me being a little more direct."


    "It''s not bad," said Fleric. "It''s not bad." He bent over the page, staring at it and chewing the end of his stylus. After a moment''s hesitation, he wrote in a great, big capital ''B'' in the middle of the word.


    "Okay, give me another one," he said.


    "The last letter is ''a,''" said Welton.


    He drew in the ''A'' and then stared at the paper for a while longer.


    "One more," he said.


    "After the ''t'' is an ''h,''" said Welton.


    They continued like this until Fleric had filled in an ''e'', an ''o'', an ''r'', and another ''o''.


    "Theobro-a," said Fleric. "Hmm. Hmm."


    "It''s not a very common word," said Welton.


    "I might need another hint," said Fleric.


    "Another hint? Like the last several I just gave you?"


    "Yes," he said. "Just like those. Those were very helpful."


    "I''m not sure it counts as a hint anymore at this point," said Welton. "I mean, if I give you one more letter, there''s nothing left to hint at."


    "What do you mean?" Fleric asked sharply, looking up.


    "Well, you''ll have solved it, won''t you? Or at least," he said, "it will be solved."


    "Why''s that?"


    "There only is one more letter, of course! Look, if you don''t know the word, that''s fine. The last letter is-"


    "Wait!"


    "Yes?"


    The man scrutinized the paper. "You''re right," he said after a few moments. "If you give me one more letter, there won''t be anything left to solve."


    "So you still want to solve it yourself?"


    "Yeah," said Fleric. "I do."


    "Okay," said Welton. He walked over to the coffee table and began digging through his duffel to get the AR projector.


    "Is it an ''a''?" asked Fleric.


    "Nope," said Welton.


    "Okay... is it a ''b''?"


    "Nope."


    "Er... how about a ''c''?"


    "Not that either."


    "Am I close?"


    "You''ll, er, get there at this rate, I''m sure," said Welton.


    "''d''?"


    "Nope."


    "''e''?"


    "Nope."


    "Hmm... maybe I should start at the other end of the alphabet," said Fleric. "Is it-"


    "I don''t think you should do that," interrupted Welton. "Listen, why don''t you just rattle off all the letters, and I''ll stop you when you get to the right one?"


    "Yeah?"


    "Yeah, seems like the most efficient way to do it."


    "Okay," said Fleric. "I guess. ''A'', ''B'', ''C'', ''D'', ''E''- what are you doing over there, anyway?"


    "I''ll show you in a moment," said Welton. "Keep going!"


    "If you insist," he said. "''F'', ''G'', ''H'', ''I'', ''J''- you are listening, right?"


    "I''m listening."


    "And it''s none of these?"


    "Nope. I''ll let you know when you''re there."


    "Okay, okay. ''K,'' ''L,'' ''M''-"


    "Stop!"


    "-''N''- oh, stop? It''s ''N''? Theobrona?"


    "No, go back one."


    "Oh, M. It''s Theobroma."


    "Yeah," said Welton. "You got it!"


    "Theobroma! How about that."


    "Yeah, it means-"


    "It''s a genus of plant that includes chocolate. Of course, of course. The name literally means ''food of the gods.'' I should have realized."


    Welton boggled at him. "You mean you knew the word all along?"


    "The last letter was a tricky one," he said. "I didn''t get it until I said ''M'' and you stopped me. But then it was obvious."


    "Right," said Welton. "Well, yes. It was."


    "You said you knew this other one?" Fleric asked. "Can you give me some hints for this one, too? ''A,'' ''B,'' ''C''-"


    "How about you come over here and look at this," suggested Welton. "Take your mind off the puzzle for a bit. You''ll be able to solve it more easily if you return to it with fresh eyes."


    "Will I?"


    "It certainly can''t hurt," said Welton.


    "Okay, if you''d like." The man walked over to him. "Why are you a pig?" he asked.


    "Because it''s what I am," said Welton, guardedly. "Is that a problem?"


    "That''s not much of an answer, is it? ''Because it''s what I am''?"


    "Well, why are you a human?"


    The man looked startled. "Why am I a human?" He looked down at his hands. "Why indeed?"


    "There you go, then."


    "But you''re a body modder, right? Not a real pig."


    "I''m a real pig," said Welton, "and a body modder."


    "You know what I mean. You weren''t born a pig. I mean, obviously not. Ha ha."


    "Not as such," said Welton.


    "There we go then," said Fleric. "You''re really a human."


    Welton gave him a pained smile. "Did you ever know anyone," he asked, "who was born into a female body, but then body-modded it to male when they were old enough? Or from male to female?"


    "Certainly," he said. "My own mother, for one. Why?"


    "Would you say your own mother was really a man?"


    "Of course not! Don''t be ridiculous."


    "So why would you say I''m really a human?"


    "Huh? I don''t understand how that''s relevant," he said. "We''re talking about two completely different things, here."


    "Are we?"


    "Yes, obviously."


    "So if I did a body mod to become a woman," said Welton, "you''d say I was a woman."


    "Yes."


    "But the fact that I''ve done a body mod to become a pig," said Welton, "doesn''t mean you''ll say I''m a pig."


    "Now, hold on," said Fleric, "it''s not that I don''t understand what you''re saying. It''s just that sex and gender really are a whole separate matter. You say you''re a pig, but you''re standing on two legs, wearing clothes, and speaking to me. You''re a creature of higher reasoning. You have opposable thumbs. No true pig could solve any part of a crossword puzzle. That''s why I insist you''re a human."


    Welton went silent. The truth was, he didn''t really have a counterargument to all that. He knew what he was in his heart. He knew he wasn''t a human, and that it was fine that he stood on two legs instead of four, and that this man was wrong. But he didn''t have the words to argue his point of view. He wasn''t entirely sure he could explain it to himself.


    "Listen," he finally said, "I didn''t come here to argue about this. I came here to show you something." He hesitated for a moment, then added, "I''d like to show it to whoever''s in charge around here, too, if they''re available."


    "I''m in charge around here," said Fleric.


    "I mean, whoever has the authority to spend your budget."


    "That''s me," he agreed.


    "Oh. Okay. Is there anyone else around at all? They might want to see this too."


    "No. I''m here alone. Head of River Traffic, and Assistant Lighthouse Keeper."


    "Assistant?"


    "There''s no Head Lighthouse Keeper," Fleric said. "There hasn''t been one for decades."


    "No?" asked Welton, politely.


    "The way the story goes, the old Head Lighthouse Keeper is still around, as a ghost. She gets angry when someone else is given her title."


    "Really?"


    "And then the murders start," said Fleric. He smiled. "It''s a good story, isn''t it? It gives the place so much extra flavor and tradition. I tell it to all the visitors during the tour."


    "Wait, murders? Really?"


    "Yes! Don''t worry, it hasn''t happened for several years. And of course, there aren''t really such things as ghosts, so the murders must''ve been done by someone else. Some actual person. Not, in fact, a ghost."


    "So you''re telling me that instead of a ghost, all I have to worry about is that there might be a serial killer lurking around? Okay, good. That''s very reassuring." An uncomfortable thought occurred to him. "Incidentally," he asked, "how long have you been working here?"


    "Seven years," said Fleric. "Since just before the last batch of murders, actually."


    "I see," said Welton. "What a coincidence."


    "Fortunately, I was away at the time. Visiting my mother. She lives downriver, outside the city, but I try to visit her at least once or twice a year."


    "That''s very dutiful of you," said Welton.


    "And it means I couldn''t possibly have done the murders myself, despite what the investigative team thought." He smiled again.


    "Oh," said Welton. "Did they?"


    "I don''t blame them! I was, after all, the only member of the lighthouse staff to survive. But they couldn''t prove anything. Because, of course, it wasn''t me. So there was nothing to prove," he said.


    Welton wished he hadn''t gone over to the coffee table to unpack his equipment, because now there was a sofa between him and the door. Or Fleric himself, depending on the angle.


    "In any case," said Fleric, "it''s just me here. Just me in the whole building. Well, and you, too, right now."


    "It''s just occurred to me," said Welton, quickly, "that I''ve gone and left the power charger for my holo-projector back at my hotel room. Silly me! I''d better go and fetch it." He threw the projector back into the duffel and stood up, ready to make for the door.


    "Oh, a holo-projector? You''re going to do a holo show? I love those!"


    "Yes, but since I don''t have my charger-"


    "Isn''t that it right there?" Fleric pointed into the still-open duffel.


    "So it is," said Welton, glumly. "Well spotted."

 Chapter Eighteen

    Rakkel watched the car drive away with interest. Xe liked the way the car''s headlights made cones in the rain, and the way the wheels sprayed droplets like sparks from grindstones. It made strange, exciting noises, and moved with a sleek acceleration xe''d never seen before. The Trolley certainly didn''t move like that - it went slowly, ponderously, with a sort of impending thoughtfulness.


    Mme. Flore had offered to give xir a ride somewhere, but xe''d declined, curious about her vehicle though xe was. Xe may have agreed to work with her in this one instance, but that didn''t mean xe trusted her.


    Tomorrow, xe thought, would be interesting. But today xe needed to figure out where xe was going to spend the night.


    A fleeting plan to put on a phony disguise and return to the Charming Garden Hostel was formed and quickly discarded.


    Still, there were plenty of other hostels. A whole block of them. Xe''d chosen the Charming Garden because it happened to be closest. Maybe xe should go check out the others. They were bound to be friendlier. Xe set off to the north.


    "No animals," said the man, grinning nastily. "We have a rule." He pointed at a sign.


    "Right," said Rakkel, wearily. "Sure. No animals. That''s quite reasonable." Xe''d had five arguments already which had ended on a variation of "we have the right to reserve service to anyone, for any reason." Xe didn''t have the patience to rehash all of xir careful arguments about xir status as a living, breathing person, and how this kind of discrimination served nobody, really, and how the fundamental dignity of-


    By that point, they''d generally stopped listening entirely.


    Of course, the majority of the hostels had turned xir away because the woman from the Charming Garden Hostel had, it seemed, gone around to all her neighbors just to warn them about xir. Xe was easy enough to describe: "Hey, you''re the dirty-looking mouse thing with the stripey tail," they''d all said. They''d recognized xir instantly.


    This hostel had been the last one. Rather, Rakkel thought there might be more hostels nearby, down a block or something, but this one was the last one xe had patience for.


    At the very least, the rain had stopped.


    Xe turned around and walked back down the block for, xe hoped, the very last time. Xe''d had quite enough of hostels.


    But where else could xe go? Welton had warned xir about the hotels, xe thought as xe put distance between xirself and the hostel district. But now xe had enough money for them. Probably. Maybe xe could try those. At the very least, they might turn xir away more politely. At the very, very least, xe doubted they''d call xir a "dirty-looking mouse."


    Xe wasn''t sure where to find the hotels, though. Welton had said they were "near the marketplace," as xe recalled, but that didn''t narrow it down very well. Half the city was near the marketplace, and most of what remained wasn''t near the marketplace because it was, itself, the marketplace. Still, xe knew how to get to the marketplace from here, whether it was the right part of the marketplace or not. Xe decided to walk back over to it and see what there was to see along the way.


    Just south of the hostels and east of the Sedge, xe found a residential district. The streets here twisted and curved their way around rings of two story apartment buildings, painted in cheery colors and, like the hostels, had old-fashioned solar panels bolted in a mishmash across their rooftops, though these lacked the dirt and ill-maintained wiring that the others had. The road itself, however, had been attacked viciously: Gardens and parks extended down from the front porches of the buildings to encroach onto the street, where whole sections of cobble had been torn up to accommodate them, leaving a very narrow strip down the middle for bicyclists and pedestrians.


    Rakkel attracted stares as xe walked down the strip. Xe still wasn''t used to that. It didn''t bother xir, though, so much as it amused xir. Xe made a game of seeking out the most hostile, disgusted, or just plain surprised of the staring faces and waving and smiling at them in particular. Most of them didn''t react.


    "Are you a bear, mister?"


    Xe''d been so busy smiling and waving furiously at one particularly grumpy scowl that xe hadn''t seen the child approach from the other side of the street. They were young, perhaps seven or eight, and wore a red and white striped shirt with purple popsicle stains all down the side.


    "I''m a lemur," said Rakkel. "Are your parents here?"


    "You look like a bear," they said.


    "Bears have brown fur," said Rakkel. "Mine is grey, see?" Xe held out xir arm for the child to inspect. "Why don''t you go ask your parents about bears," xe added. "I bet they know a lot."


    "I meant a panda bear," said the child. "Panda bears have black fur and white fur. Just like that." They grabbed xir tail. "See? Black, white. Black, white." They walked their fingers through it.


    "Please don''t," xe said, pulling xir tail away. "You know, it''s very impolite to grab someone''s tail."


    Xe''d meant to say it in a friendly tone, but it came out harshly; xe''d noticed the sticky popsicle residue all over the child''s hand at just the wrong time, too late to stop the irritation from getting into xir voice. The child stumbled back, looking confused and hurt.


    "What are you doing to my child?"


    A mother came hurrying up. Rakkel could tell from her face that she was a mother: She wore that universal expression of motherly concern. Beneath it, she also wore an off-white shirt of some light material and off-white, baggy pants to match. The pants showed the stains of garden work.


    "Just saying hello," said Rakkel. Xe stuck a hand out. "My name''s Rakkel. I think your child is curious about me."


    The mother took it automatically, but shook it unenthusiastically.


    "I really think," she said, "that you should be more careful, shouldn''t you? At least cover up. There are lots of children around here."


    "Cover up?"


    "Yes. Your fur is showing. And your... what do you call this?"


    "I call it a ''tail,''" said Rakkel, bemused.


    "Right. You should really tuck it into your pants. Or just don''t wear it out."


    "I can''t ''not wear it out,''" said Rakkel. "It''s attached to my body."


    "Well, whatever. Just don''t leave it where children can see it. Don''t get me wrong," said the woman, "I don''t have any problem with your type. I think people should be able to have whatever bodies they want. But please don''t do it in public, okay? The kids might get ideas."


    Rakkel was sure they''d get ideas. When Rakkel was young, xe''d gotten lots of ideas from all the other body modders walking around. Xe''d taken notes in a journal about the different kinds of body xe could have, carefully considering the pros and cons of each. A lot of it was informed by observation: Xe''d spent a year, for instance, absolutely certain that xe''d wanted a big colorful frill down xir back until xe met someone with that exact modification and learned that it would become impossible to lie down in the grass with it. Xe liked lying down in the grass and staring up at the sky more than xe liked the thought of having a colorful frill.


    Ultimately, xe''d thrown it all out and become a lemur, like xir parents. But at least xe felt confident that it''d been a well-considered decision.


    "I was just explaining," xe said, "that I''m not a bear."


    "Panda bear," insisted the child.


    "Shh," said the mother, "no, dear. This lady is a human. She''s just... she''s just wearing a funny suit, is all." She glared at Rakkel in a worried sort of way, both daring xir to correct her and pleading that xe wouldn''t.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "I''m not a ''lady,''" said Rakkel.


    "It''s not a suit!" protested the child. "I felt it! It felt like Maddy!" Maddy, Rakkel supposed, was some sort of pet.


    Some of the worry went out of the mother''s glare.


    Rakkel knew better than to try to explain that it wasn''t xir idea for the child to touch xir fur. Instead, xe hurried away without another word.


    The mother didn''t quite conceal her relief.


    At the end of the avenue, Rakkel turned west toward the river, not wanting to stay in the residential area any longer. But as xe left the apartments behind, xe decided not to go all the way back to the water. Xe''d walked up and down the riverfront street a few times now, and xe wanted to see something new.


    That''s why xe found it.


    "It" was a bookshop. Not one of the teetering, makeshift constructions of the market, but a proper bookshop, albeit a small one. It huddled in between two larger buildings which were joined by a balcony across their second floors, like a pair of folk dancers holding their arms in an arch for the smaller building to promenade beneath.


    A book in the corner of the front window caught xir eye. It was one of those big, floppy, glossy-covered nonfiction books that has a big photograph of something exciting on the front to make up for the matter-of-fact title. In this case, the title was "Forash Rebellion: An Aftermath" and the photo - Rakkel came right up to the glass and pressed xir face against it to be sure, but though sunlight had bleached it over time, xe could recognize it without a doubt - was the ruined skyscraper from the walled-off island, silhouetted against a setting sun just as Rakkel had seen it.


    Xe looked up at the sign hanging in front of the bookshop''s door. It read "Deep Reading Bookshop" in extremely plain letters. Xe saw a symbol in one corner of the otherwise unadorned sign that looked familiar. Xe''d noticed it around the city in a few places without really thinking about it: A sort of stylized wireframe box with a knot of curvy lines in the middle.


    Obviously, it indicates membership in some sort of secret society, xe thought. A Fraternal Order of Booksellers, Hostelers, and Other Assorted Professions. Oh, and Late Night Eateries - it''d been on Doople''s sign as well.


    Actually, come to think of it, Doople''s shop wasn''t even the first place xe''d seen it. The first place xe''d seen it had been Welton''s duffel. Xe hadn''t taken a good look at Doople''s shop sign until later. So it was a Fraternal Order of Booksellers, Hostelers, Late Night Eateries, Welton, and Other Assorted... no, xe had to admit to xirself, something about this didn''t quite hang together conceptually.


    Shrugging, xe went back to the window and peered through it again. There hadn''t been any prices listed on the sign over the door, which was where Rakkel''s limited experience suggested they might be. Xe supposed they could also be on display somewhere inside the shop, but the glare from the sunlight made it hard to see anything. Xe cupped xir hands around xir eyes and pressed xir face closer to the glass.


    The front door of the shop opened, making a sonorous electronic chiming noise.


    Rakkel yelped, jumped up and whirled around to face the door.


    "Hello?" The woman who stood there wore a kimono covered in embroidered images of fish. She had cherry-flavored hair, and large, plump cheeks surrounding a round mouth. The circular frames of her eyeglasses made her look even more surprised than she was.


    "Hello," said Rakkel, warily.


    "Can I help you?" said the woman.


    "I''m interested in this book," xe said. Xe pointed through the glass.


    "Certainly," she said, "but I''d appreciate if you didn''t leave marks on my window. You''re welcome to come inside, you know."


    Rakkel opened xir mouth to protest that xe wasn''t leaving marks, then noticed the perfect little nose print on the glass.


    "Oh," xe said. "Sorry. Um, I can clean it off for you." Xe dug into xir messenger bag for xir handkerchief, then remembered xe''d lent it to Welton.


    "It''s okay," said the woman. "I''ll get it later." She went inside. Rakkel followed.


    "That one''s been sitting in the window for a long time now," she said, walking over to the inside of the display. "I always thought the dramatic image on the cover would attract attention. I''m not sure it ever did, though."


    "Woah," said Rakkel.


    The woman looked up at xir. "Oh," she said, smiling. "You''ve noticed the aquariums."


    Most of the space inside the shop was taken up by bookshelves, but what wasn''t was taken up by aquariums. They covered every exposed inch of wall and the tops of all the shelves, and even in some cases even served as bookends for the books. Brilliant fish lit by shifting lights filled every one.


    "They''re incredible," said Rakkel.


    "Thank you," said the woman. "One of my two hobbies. I''m sure you can guess the other one, as well." When she wasn''t staring in surprise, her whole face cooperated to support her tiny, beaming smile. The cheeks curved up around it in a joyful caress.


    Rakkel went to the nearest tank to get a better look. In this particular tank, all the fish were orange. Aside from the color, however, no two were alike. Xe saw big fish, small fish, long fish, wide fish, round fish, flat fish...


    "Are these modded?" xe asked.


    "Most of them, yes. I collect modded fish. I don''t mod them myself - I think there''s something cruel about that. Even if they''re typically modded in the egg, so they never know another life. But other people mod them all the time, in batches, and then find out once the eggs have hatched that they''ve gotten something subtly wrong, or simply change their mind about wanting the fish in the first place."


    "So you take them," said Rakkel.


    "Usually, they''re killed," said the woman. "There are strict rules about throwing them into natural water sources. Not that that stops everyone, but it''s not hard to trace them back to the source, since the genes are automatically tagged. Occasionally, though, I find out that someone has some modded fish they don''t want in time to intervene. I have enough contacts in the right circles by now that people know to clue me in."


    "That''s good of you," said Rakkel.


    The woman handed xir the book. "It''s selfish, really," she said. "I like to think I''m doing a good deed, but I suspect it only encourages people to make more. They know they can foist them off on me if things go wrong."


    "It matters to these fish, though," xe pointed out.


    "That''s true!" She laughed. "Something I try not to forget."


    Rakkel pointed at the book''s cover. "What''s this about?" xe asked. "Rebellion? What could this city possibly need to rebel against?"


    "Read it and find out. It''s one and a half credits, but if you don''t want to buy it, I have some reading chairs back there." She pointed farther into the maze of shelves. "Over next to the shark tank."


    "Shark tank?"


    "Believe it or not, yes." Her eyes sparkled. "It takes work to maintain, let me tell you."


    "I bet," said Rakkel.


    Xe knew xe could easily afford the one and a half credits, and xe still needed to find a place to spend the night. But something in the woman''s face, somewhere behind the enormous tiny smile, suggested that she wanted xir to stay. And xe certainly couldn''t leave without looking at the sharks.


    "I''m going to be honest," said the woman, following Rakkel as xe began walking back towards the reading chairs, "I''ve met any number of bio modded fish, but never a bio modded person. It''s a lemur mod, isn''t it?"


    "Yeah," said Rakkel. "I''m a lemur. You know, I think you''re the first person I''ve met in this city who''s gotten it right?"


    "Really? What else could you even be? There aren''t a lot of animals that look quite like lemurs."


    "Apparently, there are," said Rakkel.


    "Raccoons, maybe."


    "Yeah, I get that one a lot." Xe shrugged. "It doesn''t bother me all that much, really."


    "Doesn''t it?"


    Xe didn''t say anything to that. And then xe went around the corner and saw the sharks.


    The shark tank, compared to the other tanks in the shop, was huge. It rose from floor to ceiling, and appeared to extend some distance above and below them as well. It measured a good eight to ten meters in diameter. Inside, sharks and rays swam in stately circles around a towering column of rough, coral-covered stone.


    But what sharks and rays! None were the gray color xe expected. Instead, they rippled with rainbow shades in stripes along their sides, or flashed with neon greens and bright, violent purples, or sported plaid fins welded to an argyle body. One large, square-finned skate was covered in rows of fine calligraphy across its otherwise pale white scales.


    As xe watched, a sleepy-looking cuttlefish drifted out from behind a rock, stared at xir for a few moments, then pushed itself back into hiding with a tentacle. The cuttlefish, alone among the sharks and rays, looked like a normal cuttlefish. Which was to say, more bizarre than the rest of the creatures in the tank combined.


    "This is fantastic," said Rakkel.


    "Put your ear up to the glass," said the woman.


    "I''ll smudge it."


    "It''s fine. I do it myself all the time."


    Rakkel put xir big, fluffy ear against the glass. At first, the hum and whirr of the aquarium''s filters almost drowned it out, but then xir ear began to register something else. Once xe knew what xe was listening for, it became easier and easier to pick it out: A deep, bassy chime, which pulsed several times and then extended into a strange, echoing music.


    "It''s that one," said the woman, pointing at one of the larger sharks, swimming near the bottom of the tank. Its scales shone with a pale, crystalline sheen, and its fins were semitransparent. "Only one of his kind," she said. "They couldn''t get most of them to survive long past hatching."


    "It''s beautiful," xe said.


    "Isn''t it?"


    "Is there a story behind the cuttlefish?"


    "Oh, that''s just Edward," she said. "He helps keep them in line." Her eyes sparkled.


    "You really shouldn''t have put the reading chairs here," said Rakkel. "I don''t see how anyone could possibly get any reading done with this nearby to distract them. I could stare for hours."


    "Ah, but see, that''s the trick," said the woman. "Anyone who''s too distracted to read will have to buy the book and take it home with them."


    Despite this, Rakkel sat down in the nearest armchair with the book.


    "Let me know if you need anything," said the woman as she moved back toward the front of the store.


    "One thing," said Rakkel.


    "Yes?"


    "What''s your name?"


    "Larilyn," she said. "You can call me Larry for short."


    "I''m Rakkel," said Rakkel.


    "Pleased to meet you, Rakkel."


    "My pronouns are xe/xir," xe added, realizing that xe probably needed to start telling people that up front if xe wanted them to get it right, like how Essabrou had pointed out that they were a porpoise instead of a dolphin.


    "Sure," said Larry, "I''ll remember that. Mine are she/her."


    Xe felt a little awkward bringing it up. Back home, pronouns weren''t generally a problem, and xe wasn''t used to making a big deal about them. But Larry had taken it in perfect stride.


    "Thanks," xe said.


    Xe opened the book, tore xir wandering gaze back from the shark tank, and began reading.

 Chapter Nineteen

    "There''s an extra room upstairs you can sleep in, if you''d like," said Larry.


    Rakkel looked up with a start. The whole bookstore, xe realized uncomfortably, had grown dark around xir, save for the aquarium lights and the occasional phosphorescent fish.


    "Oh no," xe said, "is the bookstore closed?"


    "It''s been closed for a couple of hours," said Larry, cheerfully. "It''s okay, you''re welcome to stay here. I didn''t want to disturb you. You seemed quite absorbed."


    "It''s confusing," xe said, waving the book. "And the writing is very dry. I''m having trouble making sense of it."


    "Not what you hoped for?"


    "The fact that it exists at all," xe said, "is more than I hoped for or expected. I''ll buy it."


    "Unfortunately, you''ll have to buy it in the morning. I already shut down my terminal."


    "Oh. Right."


    "Like I said, you''re welcome to spend the night in the room upstairs. It''s unfinished, but there''s a mattress, and I can bring some extra sheets up. I''m planning to rent it out. But nobody''s renting it yet, so you''re free to use it."


    Rakkel shook xir head. "You know what? I''ll do you one better: I''ll rent it myself."


    "Oh? Really? You haven''t even seen it."


    "The thing is, I need a place. I was on my way to check out the local hotels when I noticed your bookstore. But I think I''ll be staying in this city for a while, so I should really have something more long-term, I think. And you seem like a good person. I like your bookshop," xe said. "It doesn''t have to be a fancy room, anyway. I just need somewhere to sleep and take meals."


    "Okay..." Larry looked pensive. "I generally prefer to do a background check before letting people rent it, though," she said. "Do you have any references?"


    "Not really, I''ve only been in this city for a couple of- oh, you know what? I do. Doople would vouch for me."


    "Who''s Doople?"


    "He runs a late-night meat bun stand. It''s a ways south of here, just outside the market area."


    "Does he know you well?"


    Rakkel hesitated. "Nobody in this city knows me well yet," xe said, "but he knows me as well as anyone around here does. I spent my first night here in his apartment. He gave up his bunk so I''d have somewhere to sleep."


    "Really? Hmm. Okay, tell you what," she said, "you can have the room tonight for free, like I said, and I''ll check with this ''Doople'' fellow in the morning. But I also need to know that you can afford it."


    "Oh, yeah. I should probably ask how much it is," said Rakkel.


    "I was surprised you didn''t," said Larry. "You don''t seem like the sort of person who can just rent rooms without worrying about the cost, if you''ll forgive my saying so."


    Rakkel shrugged. "Probably not," xe said. "To be honest, we don''t really do the whole ''money'' thing where I''m from. I''m still getting used to how it works."


    "Really? You don''t use money? What do you do instead?"


    "We don''t really do anything instead, I guess." Xe shrugged.


    "Huh. Well, I was planning on charging 380 credits a month," said Larry.


    "Okay," said Rakkel.


    "You can afford that?"


    "Yeah, no problem."


    "For more than a month?"


    "For several months. I never said that I didn''t have any money, just that I''m not used to using it."


    "I see," she said, scanning Rakkel''s bones with xir vision.


    "Someone''s been giving me money," xe explained. "She''s sort of my business partner, I guess."


    "I see," said Larry again. "What business?"


    Rakkel hesitated, not totally sure what the answer was xirself. "As of tomorrow," xe said, "we''ll be selling market goods together."


    Larry fiddled with the belt of her fish kimono. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but hesitated.


    "You think I''m being taken advantage of," said Rakkel.


    "That''s one of the things I''m thinking," she said.


    "The situation''s a little complicated," said Rakkel, "but she''s already put money in my account. So even if the business relationship doesn''t work out, I''m still good for rent."


    "Can I talk to her tomorrow?" asked Larry.


    "I guess so," said Rakkel. "I''ll introduce you to her and Doople both-" xe yawned as xe spoke. Xe had a habit of drawing back xir lips when yawning to show off xir fangies. Though the gesture was perhaps lost on Larry.


    "We''ll talk about it in the morning," said Larry, hurriedly. "You need sleep. Here, I''ll show you where it is." She led Rakkel through the shelves to a door in the back.


    Rakkel barely had time to take in xir surroundings before xe collapsed on the mattress. Xe woke up briefly a few minutes later so that Larry could put sheets on it.


    Welton''s holo demonstration went well, despite his suspicion that Fleric would knife him at any moment. Fleric watched it through an AR device that he held to his face like a pair of thin binoculars, while Welton monitored it through his own AR spectacles. He showed off the warp tunnel, the snake-fireworks, a segment of the monster maze, the selection of snippets he called his "potpourri", and to end it all, his trademark flying pigs.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    In truth, it didn''t take him very long to forget his worries about Fleric''s potential status as a mass murderer. The man hadn''t done anything actually threatening, after all. And on the other hand, Welton had wanted an opportunity like this for years. He''d done commission work before, but it was all just basic floating text and scrolling menus, with the occasional simple embellishment. He''d never gotten the chance to show off his real stuff. Not until now. This was the stuff he''d built in private, kept secret from his parents and his nosy siblings, using every last clever trick he could think of to bedazzle the viewer and push the art of holo-display to its very limits.


    And Fleric appreciated it! He gasped, he cheered, he leaned back and forth when the warp tunnel twisted and turned, recoiled when the monsters jumped out of the maze. And then the pigs flew off into the sunset, and he put down his AR device and said, "brilliant! Splendid! The best I''ve ever seen!"


    The best he''d ever seen! Welton felt like he might soar off into the sunset himself.


    "I''m glad you like it," he said, as humbly as he could manage under the circumstances.


    "You know, we put on holo-shows here sometimes," said Fleric. "That is to say, I do. Since we have so many holo projectors to help manage river traffic. I''ve downloaded everything available off the city''s network, but there''s nothing like what you just showed me."


    "I saw the cubes around the lighthouse beams," said Welton.


    "Yes, I keep a little something running at all times. To attract interest."


    "What I thought," said Welton, "was that maybe you''d be interested in hiring me. Or if it''s more convenient, I could work on commission. I''ll produce holo-shows for the lighthouse, you pay me, everybody wins."


    "Tempting," said Fleric. "Very tempting."


    That wasn''t a yes, Welton noticed.


    "The problem," he said, "is that I don''t have much of a budget these days."


    "Oh? I thought you used to have lots of people working here."


    "A few. But after they were all murdered, it became evident that they were superfluous. One man can run this thing all by himself."


    "But the profits from the holo-shows-"


    "They don''t make very much profit," said Fleric. "The thing is, it''s hard to charge people for watching something they can see for free anywhere along this part of the river."


    "Ah," said Welton. "Yes."


    "Still... how much would it cost for a simple one? Not a full-fledged show, just a simple looping animation for the beams. To replace what''s currently running."


    "One hundred and seventy credits?" hazarded Welton. It was a higher rate than he''d set for the few projects he''d taken on in the past. But he was more experienced now, he figured. And anyway, he needed it to be enough to live on for at least a little while.


    "I probably couldn''t afford more than a hundred and twenty five," said Fleric, with a tone of slightly theatrical sadness.


    Of course, Welton reflected, if they were going to haggle over it, he should''ve started higher.


    "I appreciate your budget is limited," he said. "But I''m a professional. I need to charge what my efforts are worth. I couldn''t justify going lower than one hundred and fifty."


    "That''s still out of my range. It''s the city, really. Town hall sets my budget. I could maybe make some cuts and free up a hundred and thirty, but no more than that."


    "Deal," said Welton. Next time, he thought to himself, I''ll go higher.


    "Excellent. I''ll write up a contract. I''m good at writing contracts," said Fleric. "Come back tomorrow and we can sign it. One hundred thirty credits for a holo-show to decorate the lighthouse beams. How long do you think it will take you, incidentally?"


    "I can have it done in a week," he said. He probably could, couldn''t he? If he focused. It normally took longer than that to make the sort of thing he had in mind, but he normally wasn''t being paid for it. He figured that would help him avoid procrastination. Certainly, he''d learned his lesson from the last time. He wouldn''t make those same mistakes again.


    He turned and went for the door, then remembered something.


    "I''ll need some payment up front," he said.


    "Oh? I''ll have that ready for you tomorrow as well, then. How much?"


    "Er... I was hoping I could walk out of here with the credits, actually."


    "That''s not likely to happen, I''m afraid. There''s paperwork."


    "Then how about I borrow some money from you? Look, the thing is, I''m new around here, and my situation''s kind of precarious. My, er, funds are tied up at the moment. And I don''t have a place to stay."


    "I''m not a moneylender," said Fleric. "I''m a lighthouse keeper."


    "But the city''s financial software can automatically-"


    "No, I''m sorry, it''s just not something I''m willing to do," he said. "There are moneylenders in the marketplace, of course."


    Welton''s parents had a lot to say about usury, none of it positive. They reserved most of their scorn for the borrowers, too, who obviously deserved to be taken advantage of by cleverer sorts. Still, that was their perspective. They had plenty of money. He doubted they''d once in their lives faced the prospect of sleeping out in the street.


    Besides, he''d already decided to make it a general policy of his to do the opposite of whatever they expected of him. He''d vowed it to himself when he left home.


    "Fine," he said. "That''s fine. I''ll go to them, then."


    Anyway, he had work now. He''d make the money back right away. He only needed to borrow enough to get a roof over his head for tonight.


    As he made his way into the marketplace, the sky was a collage of sunset red, and orange clouds.


    He stopped to buy a bowl of noodle soup at a table just outside one of the tube entrances. It was served in one of those cheap, biodegradable mycelium bowls, he noticed. The kind that didn''t last more than a day outside of its packaging. He couldn''t tell if the mushroomy taste came from the bowl, or if the soup was supposed to be that way. It didn''t taste bad, regardless.


    On his way here from the lighthouse, he''d begun to have second thoughts about his plan to take out a loan on the spur of the moment from some random, shady moneylender. He''d begun to suspect it resembled his plan from the previous night to get stinking drunk, in that his best reason for doing it - not his only reason, but his favorite one, the one he found most compelling - was that his parents had told him not to.


    It''d be different if he had other reasons for doing it, and the fact that his parents had told him not to was just a delicious bonus. But he had to admit to himself that if it came to it, spending the night in a park somewhere, sleeping on the grass, would be very tolerable on a warm night like tonight. Whereas he''d heard horror stories about what loan sharks did to people who couldn''t pay off their debts.


    But there was no way that''d actually happen to him. Those stories were exaggerated, right? The common case had to be that people took out a loan, used the money sparingly for something they needed, then paid it back with the required interest as soon as they could, and that was the end of it. Right?


    In any case, this was all part of experiencing the parts of life he''d so far been sheltered from. These sorts of exciting complications were what he wanted, right? Problems to solve, a chance to prove himself, all of that.


    The problem, he supposed, with getting drunk the way he had, was that he''d done too much all at once. If he''d only gotten a little drunk, maybe he could have worked his way up. So maybe he should learn from his mistakes. Take out a small loan and work his way up, sort of thing.


    A thought struck him: What if he borrowed money from someone he actually knew? Just because Fleric wouldn''t do it didn''t mean nobody else would.


    The only friends he had in the city, he realized, were Doople and Rakkel. The former wasn''t having anything to do with him anymore, and the latter probably didn''t have enough money of her own (he paused for a moment on "her," not knowing why his own thoughts felt a bit off to him, then moved on) to lend him any.


    No, wait, that wasn''t quite true. He had Salmidon, too.


    Was Salmidon really his friend?


    Okay, no, not really, but they were acquaintances at least.


    Would Salmidon lend him money?


    Probably not.


    He slurped up another snoutful of noodles and chewed them thoughtfully.


    Would it hurt to ask Salmidon to lend him money? Also probably not. And if Salmidon refused, he could still go find one of the many, many moneylenders around the marketplace.


    In fact, maybe Salmidon even knew of a reputable one. Maybe Salmidon could point him in the direction of the trustworthy moneylenders, with the low interest rates. That sounded reasonable.


    Feeling better about his plan, he gulped the last of the broth from the bowl, complimented the cook (which was something else his parents would never do,) and threw the bowl in the gutter.

 Chapter Twenty

    Rakkel had never heard such a deafening chorus of oinkings. Nor had xe smelled such a concentrated smell of... well, it involved manure, whatever else was in it.


    Lemurs do not emit the same scents that humans do. Rakkel, no exception to this rule xirself, had grown up among a palette of smells most stock humans would find unusual, if not necessarily objectionable; xe was used to, speaking broadly, animal smells. But xe was not used to this.


    The pigs filled the lot between the market tubes, a churning and grunting sea of pigflesh. Metal fences marked out paths through the morass so that pedestrians could cross the area, but most took one look at the seething horde and chose another route.


    In the very middle of it all, Rakkel sat at a booth with a fancy e-paper tablet containing data on all the pigs and a registry of customers. Mme. Flore had shown xir how to select a pig from the database and use xir AR device to display a floating indicator over it so xe could pick it out from the others. Xe wore the device now. Its blocky visor covered xir whole vision, but showed a clear image of the world around xir, captured from the long, narrow lens in its front. Selecting different filters from the tablet would highlight different sets of pigs. Xe played around with this while waiting to make sales.


    Rakkel had a little bit of experience handling livestock: Back on the Trolley, there were a few people who kept goats. Xe had no experience whatsoever with livestock on this scale, however. Mme. Flore had contributed a couple of hired hands to help with the physical part of the job, for which xe was very thankful.


    Xe had to admire the respect Mme. Flore commanded. Neither of the hired hands had given xir so much as a startled look for being what xe was, much less the cracks and insults xe''d started to become used to from the non-modded. Though Mme. Flore being modded herself no doubt helped with that. More impressive still was the way she''d swept in and taken over the lot - she''d officially registered it, sure, but Rakkel had still anticipated a series of tedious arguments with the handful of hopeful merchants who''d set up shop in the lot early that morning. Instead, Mme. Flore had barely said a word to them, and they''d cleared right out.


    The greatest shock of all had come when the pigs arrived in the lot -  from above. Rakkel hadn''t realized any helicopters remained in good repair from the old days, much less that anyone could obtain enough fuel to use them. The helicopters had that same electric-blue shark image from the curtain in front of Mme. Flore''s tunnel emblazoned on their tails. And suddenly, her willingness to pay out five thousand credits a day for Rakkel to do nothing in particular made more sense. Clearly, she had so much money that five thousand credits a day didn''t matter to her.


    Rakkel wondered if this was xir own goal: To become that rich. Xe thought it would be exciting to own helicopters. But something about it seemed mildly obscene to xir, too, though xe couldn''t put xir finger on exactly what. Maybe just that the helicopters burned dirty fuel. Maybe it went deeper than that - not just the helicopters themselves, but something to do with Mme. Flore herself.


    Selling pigs, at least, seemed to be going well. It wasn''t hard. Xe''d been all ready to practice xir marketplace skills, but the only skill xe''d needed to use so far was xir experience with making xirself comfortable in chairs that hadn''t been built to accommodate tail-havers.


    All of the pigs were listed with prices in the database. Customers would arrive, look at the pigs, ask xir some questions which xe could only answer by looking things up on the tablet, and register themselves for one or another that they''d chosen based on some criteria entirely invisible to Rakkel. Xe''d haggled vaguely with them at first, found that most of them knew the value of their selected stock far better than xe did, and eventually gave up. Then the hired hands came and sorted the pig out from the others using snares and big plastic boards, driving it either to the gate, where it was handed over to the new owner on a lead, or to a stall erected at the far end of the lot for those who''d make arrangements to pick it up later.


    Rakkel barely felt involved. Xe wondered if xe was even needed here at all. But xe had an agreement with Mme. Flore, so xe stayed.


    Xe''d brought the book from the bookshop along. When xe wasn''t fiddling with xir AR device and the tablet, xe read it. Xe''d almost sorted out the main threads of the tangled history it told, xe thought. Although the author didn''t seem to wholly understand it either. At least, xe got the impression that a lot of what they''d written was filler, intended to hide the holes in their own knowledge and pad out the book. Sometimes it seemed even more confused than that. They''d written multiple, contradictory versions of the same events in some cases, or devolved into such incoherence as to resemble glossolalia. Or so it seemed to xir. Sometimes, xe thought it was xir own lack of knowledge in the face of the author''s excessively erudite vocabulary that made things confusing; when xe got back to the bookstore, xe intended to pick up a dictionary.


    But at the very least, xe was beginning to understand what the island in the center of the rivers had been. Once upon a time, an AI had lived there. Its servers - if xe understood correctly - were housed in the skyscraper. Then, things had gone wrong - Rakkel was still vague on absolutely all of the details here, and "things had gone wrong" was the best summary xe could manage - and the people of Forash had destroyed the tower and walled off the area around it.


    And then, and this was the part most shocking to xir, they''d redirected the course of the Sedgeriver so that it and the Aeltspring formed a moat around the walled-off area.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Xe''d known that the courses of the two rivers had been altered in the past. Xe''d never known exactly why, though. Xe''d had some romantic notion of merchant cities fighting ruthlessly and cleverly over the path of commerce, forcing river traffic through one city or another depending on whose geoengineers had been most successful most recently. Maybe there had been some of that, too, in the city''s more distant past. Though xe''d always known deep down that it was a fanciful idea, not a realistic one.


    Buried in the book as xe was, xe didn''t see Welton approach until he was right next to xir.


    "So," said Welton, "what exactly is going on here?" He stood in front of the booth, leaning on one elbow that rested aggressively on the surface in front of xir and tapping his thick-nailed fingers with the other hand.


    Rakkel yelped and almost flung the tablet in the air.


    "I thought I was imagining things when I heard oinking from down the tunnel," he continued. "I should have realized I''d never mistake anything else for the call of my people. But I would never have guessed that the chief perpetrator of this grotesquery would be none other than the lemur of Forash herself."


    "You startled me," said Rakkel, belatedly.


    "Did I? A guilty conscience, perhaps?"


    Rakkel looked from Welton''s eyes glaring through his spectacles, to his ears, to the smirk on his snout. Xe couldn''t tell how serious he was being.


    "I''m not a ''herself,''" xe said.


    "Don''t change the subject. I want to know where you got these pigs, who they''re being sold to, and why."


    "Madame Flore, assorted customers whose privacy I have no right to violate, and I have no idea," xe said. "Is that a problem?"


    "Are they being mistreated?"


    "No worse than I am."


    "Hmm," said Welton.


    "Actually," said Rakkel, "they''ve been given water, and I haven''t."


    "Who''s Madame Flore?"


    "Did I not mention her to you earlier? She''s..." And then xe hesitated, realizing xe wasn''t sure how to describe her. "She''s a local businesswoman," xe finished.


    "What''s that even supposed to mean?"


    "Look, I don''t know." Rakkel pulled Welton closer, shooting a glare at the hired help, who were now pointing at Welton from some distance away and snickering in exactly the way they hadn''t when Mme. Flore had introduced xir to them. "I think she''s into some heavy stuff," said Rakkel, quietly. "I''ve been reading this book, and I think the skyscraper she''s-"


    "Like what, black market organ-growing?"


    "Huh?"


    Welton pulled back. "What do you think people are using these pigs for after they buy them? Pets?"


    "No, obviously not. I mean, I hadn''t really thought about it. They''re livestock."


    "''Livestock'' doesn''t mean anything. Why are people buying them? Think about it."


    "I know some people back home who keep goats," said Rakkel. "For the milk. And they shave their fur to make-"


    "Who drinks pig milk?"


    "Huh?"


    "Who," said Welton, "drinks pig milk?"


    "I don''t know. I''ve never heard of anyone drinking pig milk."


    "Exactly. We''re difficult creatures to milk, and humans don''t like the taste anyway."


    "A lot of these pigs are male, anyway," admitted Rakkel. "Hey, how about you, then? Do you like the taste of pig milk?"


    "I''m an adult. I don''t drink milk," said Welton.


    "Of course."


    "Anyway, no, I don''t. It''s gross. But this is all beside the point. These aren''t pet pigs. They aren''t dairy pigs, because that''s not a thing. Certainly, nobody''s going to shear them for their fur. So what''s left?"


    "They aren''t being used for meat, either," said Rakkel. "People eat vat meat around here, right?"


    "Do they?"


    "Don''t they?" Rakkel looked troubled. "Doesn''t Doople-"


    "-complain sometimes about how people still insist that ''real'' meat is tastier than the stuff he grows, even when his is chemically and structurally identical? Or that vat meat is ''unnatural'' and therefore bad? Yes. Anyway," said Welton, "I''d rather not talk about Doople right now."


    "Oh," said Rakkel. "Yeah. I take it you still haven''t reconciled with him, or passed his test, or whatever. How are you holding up?"


    "Don''t change the subject," said Welton again. "I''m fine."


    "But, look," said Rakkel, "Doople complaining is one thing, and people saying dumb stuff about the food they''re buying from him hardly means much. It''s quite another to say that people are buying these innocent pigs - in broad daylight in the middle of the market, no less - to kill them all for their meat. I don''t think I can believe that."


    "Maybe not," agreed Welton, "although it sounds to me like you''re used to this stuff being more taboo than it actually is around here. People in Forash eat slaughter meat. My parents ate meat from dead animals all the time. And there are plenty of places around the market where you can buy live animals, no questions asked, for whatever purpose you''d like. Though not usually on the scale of whatever this is." He waved a hand around at the pigs. "But let''s say you''re right, and most of these pigs aren''t being sold as meat. What then?"


    "I guess I don''t know," said Rakkel.


    "Black market organ transport," said Welton.


    "Oh, come on! That''s ridiculous. Nobody''s done that sort of thing since-"


    "Bio modding is expensive," said Welton, "and some of the parts for the equipment are scarce, being made of non-renewables. On the other hand, the technology for growing custom organs inside a pig''s body is well-established. Or if you''re doing some ethically questionable bio-experimenting and you want to keep it alive and secret, it''s easy to implant in a pig."


    "Ridiculous," insisted Rakkel. "Ridiculous and totally baseless. Do you see any weird bio-experiments, or extra kidneys?" Xe waved a paw at the pigs. "No. You just see pigs. Because that''s all there is to see. Anything else is jumping to conclusions."


    "Then what are the pigs for?" asked Welton. "What are people buying them for?"


    "It''s none of my business," said Rakkel. "I''m here to sell goods, not interrogate people. But I''m sure it''s fine. Most people wouldn''t do anything nasty to innocent animals like these."


    "You just don''t want to admit it to yourself. But you know I''m right. Would you sell me to one of these precious customers of yours, if they wanted to buy me and had the money? Since you''re so sure these pigs aren''t being mistreated."


    "Of course not! But that''s different. You''re not really- oh, hello."


    Welton stepped to one side and turned to see what was casting the shadow over him.


    "Hello," said the newcomer. "I''m here for numbers 43, 44 and 45."


    Rakkel said nothing.


    Welton looked over at xir. As soon as the person had spoken, xe''d become frozen with shock, xir eyes bulging and xir mouth agape.

 Chapter Twenty-one

    Welton turned around, following the gaze of Rakkel''s shocked, staring eyes to the man who''d spoken. He had to admit, this person looked intimidating.


    The customer was another body modder. He had a whiskered muzzle sporting a set of hefty, carnivorous tusks, and his forehead rose to a strange crest that ran down the back of his head. His body was covered in thick, golden fur, although on top of that it was covered with an extremely well-tailored business coat. It must''ve been expensive, thought Welton. The man''s wide-shouldered, looming frame would''ve required extra work and extra material.


    What puzzled Welton was that he couldn''t place the species. A saber-toothed tiger? Or some kind of bear, maybe? Were there bears with golden fur? Not that customization was impossible - but it took some real effort to engineer viable changes. By his understanding, nobody had yet managed to create a novel species from scratch. Even the most radically-altered morphs started from a single base species. Anyway, whatever this was, it looked like a real creature, not an invention. He wasn''t sure what made him think that, but it did. Something about the way the tiny details fit together.


    One benefit of being a pig, he thought, was that everyone knew what a pig was.


    "I don''t mean to be impolite," said the man, "but I have other things to do today. I don''t mind being stared at. I take it as a compliment. You can stare while you get me my pigs."


    Rakkel finally snapped out of it. "Right," xe said. "Certainly. Right away."


    "It''s unusual to see other body modders in this city," he said, conversationally.


    "Yeah," said Rakkel. "It is." Xir tone sounded unusually flat to Welton.


    "Lemurs are nocturnal, aren''t they? I hope this sun isn''t bothering you too much."


    "My kind are diurnal," xe said. "Which numbers did you say?"


    "43, 44 and 45."


    "Would you like to examine them?"


    "That won''t be necessary. I have some associates here who will take them." He waved a hand at a pair of women who''d followed him into the lot. Welton hadn''t even noticed them behind the man. They were heavily built, wore dirty overalls, and carried leads. Their hair was dreadlocked. He wondered if they were twins, given how similar even their faces appeared.


    "What name should I put down?" asked Rakkel.


    "Arctocyon," said the man.


    "I''ll need a first name, too," said Rakkel, staring him in the eye through xir visor''s long and narrow lens.


    "Guy. Guy Arctocyon."


    Rakkel typed it in.


    "That will be four hundred and seventy-five credits," xe said.


    "The price has gone up."


    "They''re fine pigs," xe said. "Good meat on them."


    Welton winced.


    Guy laughed. "I''m not buying them for the meat," he said. "But I think you might know that." He waved a hand. "Here''s your payment."


    "Received," said Rakkel.


    Welton stared at him, puzzled. The man didn''t seem to be wearing an AR device, so how had he transferred funds?


    "Do me a favor," he said. "Take that visor off for a moment. When I meet new people, I like to be able to look them in the eye. Just to get a sense for who they really are."


    "I''d rather not," said Rakkel.


    Guy hesitated, then said, "suit yourself." Behind him, the pig handlers were already handing three leashes over to the two women.


    "Excuse me," said Welton.


    Guy looked over at him as if seeing him for the first time. "My goodness," he said. "Two body modders in one day. I hope you''re not for sale?" he chuckled.


    "You''re going to treat them well?" asked Welton, indicating the three pigs.


    "As well as I''m able," he said. "I prefer to avoid cruelty when possible. Of course, it''s not always convenient."


    To Welton''s surprise, Guy suddenly reached out and poked him sharply in the side a couple of times.


    "Good muscle," said Guy, "if I''m any judge of pigflesh. But nevertheless, you don''t seem like the athletic sort."


    "Excuse me?" said Welton.


    "I beg your pardon," said Guy. "I was merely considering something." He turned back to Rakkel. "It''s been a pleasure doing business with you, mister...?"


    "I''m not a ''mister,''" xe said.


    "Oh, my mistake. I apologize for assuming."


    He waited a moment, but Rakkel said nothing more. He gave xir one last long, calculating look, then turned and walked away. The two women leading the pigs fell into step behind him.


    "Give my regards to Madame Flore," he said as he stepped out of the open lot and into the nearest market tube.


    "''Pigflesh''!?" said Welton.


    "That was him," said Rakkel, tensely. "Even before I got his name, I recognized his voice. And I think he figured out that it was me, too."


    "Huh? Who was he?"


    "Or at least he suspects." Xe shook xir head. "Someday, I''ll learn not to poke my snout where it doesn''t belong."The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "What are you talking about?"


    "I have to finish up here," xe said. "But let''s meet this evening. I''ll tell you about it."


    "You don''t, though," he said. "Have to finish up here, I mean."


    "I have an agreement with Mme. Flore," xe said.


    "So? Just walk away. Doesn''t seem to me like you''re doing all that much here anyway. Those guys are doing all the real work." He pointed at the handlers.


    "Look, the pigs will be fine," xe said. "You heard Guy. He''s not using them for meat."


    "That''s part of what he said," agreed Welton.


    "Do they look to you like they''ve been mistreated so far?" xe asked.


    "Not as such." He''d been watching them carefully, looking for bruises or signs of malnutrition or the like.


    "There you go, then."


    "Fine," said Welton. "If I can''t change your mind, I can''t change your mind."


    "Sorry," xe said, "it''s just that I need some way in. I don''t really trust Mme. Flore. But this opportunity fell into my lap, so..."


    "Into what?"


    "Into, you know, the market. I want to learn this game. In order to learn it, I have to play it."


    "I don''t have any idea what you''re talking about," he said. "Whatever, I don''t care. Do what you like."


    "Where should we meet after?"


    "Are we going to meet after?"


    Rakkel looked so hurt that he immediately felt sorry. "There''s a restaurant near here I''ve been meaning to try," he amended. "Damien''s Delight. They''re supposed to do an excellent stir fry."


    "Alright," said Rakkel. "I''ll see you there, then."


    "Seven-ish," suggested Welton.


    "Seven-ish," agreed Rakkel. "Er, is there a clock around here?"


    "Look up there through your AR device." He pointed into the sky. "You might have to register the market''s base scene if you haven''t already."


    Rakkel looked where he was pointing. "It''s asking for permission," xe said.


    "Yeah. Grant it."


    "Okay. Now I see a giant clock floating in the sky. Woah."


    "There you go," said Welton. "Should be a menu somewhere where you can tap into the market registries to get directions to the registered stalls and things, too. Damien''s is on there. I checked."


    "Got it," said Rakkel. "Huh. I need to use this thing more. I still barely know what I''m doing with it."


    "Something else to talk about at dinner," Welton agreed. "Okay. I still think you''re making a mistake here, but I''ll drop it for now. See you later." He walked away.


    "Hey," called out Rakkel, "are you sure you don''t want to stay and keep me company?"


    "I don''t want anything to do with this," he said, and turned the corner.


    Before he''d heard the pigs and found Rakkel, Welton had been on his way to a lounge Salmidon had recommended to him. Apparently, it was a popular hangout spot for various tech enthusiasts, and - so Welton hoped - a good place for him to work on the lighthouse project: The right vibes, the strong kind of coffee, an opportunity to meet other local holo-scribes.


    But now he felt soured on that. Seeing all those pigs crammed into those pens, and arguing with Rakkel - of all people! - about them had drained him. He decided to go back to his hotel room.


    He''d found the least snobby of the hotels, or so he supposed. It called itself The Menagerie, and it had an animal theme. Maybe that was why they hadn''t given him the same crap that he''d gotten at the other hotels. He kind of hoped it wasn''t. Frankly, he didn''t care for the "theme hotel" ambiance, which struck him as cheesy and tasteless.


    Nevertheless, he''d gotten himself a fancy suite. He could afford it easily with the money he''d borrowed. And once he finished his project, he''d be able to pay off the loan - and then take out another one, if he needed to at that point. He hoped he wouldn''t need to. But it was all temporary, after all.


    The hotel suite had been done up in a forest theme. The bed was a huge bird''s nest, the hot tub made to look like a natural hot spring, the bar area took the form of a fallen log conveniently full of liquor bottles next to a row of toadstool bar stools, and so on. During the night he''d kept feeling like something was peeking out at him from behind the trees printed on the wallpaper, and hadn''t slept well as a result. As of this morning, he was seriously considering downgrading to a regular room.


    But he hadn''t even tried the hot tub yet.


    His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of oinking. More oinking? He''d left the pig lot far behind.


    Ahead of him, he saw a heavyset figure hunched over a table, examining some of the tobacco pipes on display there. Beside the figure stood a pig on a leash. The pig looked uncomfortable and kept trying to hide under the table, though the leash was so short, she couldn''t make it all the way.


    Welton sighed and shook his head. "Poor little gal," he said to himself. She looked smaller and daintier than the ones Rakkel had been selling. Or maybe it was just his imagination? He couldn''t tell for sure.


    The figure holding the leash stood up, and Welton did a double take.


    "Havid!" he shouted.


    Havid spun around. "You!" he shouted back. "Do you know what you''ve done? I''m in big trouble at work over what happened to that truck. I''d be out of a job if Doople hadn''t given me money."


    "Good," said Welton. "I wish he hadn''t."


    Around them, people began to stare, but Welton ignored them.


    "What are you doing with her?" Welton asked, pointing at the pig on the leash, who was now hiding behind Havid, wrapping the leash around his ankles.


    "Her name''s Daisy," said Havid, with what Welton thought was a leer, "and she''s going to be my pet."


    "That''s grotesque," said Welton.


    "Why, are you jealous? Do you wish you could be my pet?" If that hadn''t been a leer, this definitely was.


    "You''re sick! I should hire an enforcement team on you. I''m sure someone around here specializes in animal abuse."


    "Animal abuse?" Havid went from leering to shouting. "I ought to abuse you! Don''t you dare threaten to take Daisy away from me! She''s mine!" He walked towards Welton, fists raised.


    By now, a crowd had formed around them. "Pig fight! Pig fight!" shouted someone.


    "She''s a living creature!" said Welton.


    "Yeah, and what''s your point? You''re about to not be one!" said Havid.


    "Pig fight! Pig fight!" More people took up the chant as the crowd thickened. If anyone in the crowd did not think a pig fight was a good idea, they''d already wandered away to make room for someone who did.


    "I don''t want to fight," said Welton, hurriedly. Havid had almost made it within striking range.


    "Why? You scared?"


    Yes. Yes he was scared. He''d never been in any sort of actual fight before, and whether or not Havid knew how to fight, the man''s sheer extra mass would probably decide the fight all by itself.


    He stumbled backward and collided with the crowd around them. Someone pushed him back towards Havid. "Pig fight! Pig fight!" they shouted.


    Welton, seeing no other choice, put his fists up.


    "You know, Doople told me something very interesting," said Havid as they circled each other. "He says I get to decide whether or not you get to keep living in his apartment or not."


    "Don''t worry about it," said Welton. "I already moved out. However you were planning on lording that over me, you can forget it."


    "Oh? Disappointing," said Havid, throwing a punch along with the second ''p''.


    Welton dodged it. The crowd cheered, though he doubted they were cheering for him, as such. They just wanted action.


    "Someone forgot to secure the leash they were holding," he said, looking at the table behind Havid.


    "Don''t be an idiot. I looped it around the table leg. She won''t get free of that."


    "Won''t she? Pigs are smart animals," said Welton. "Unlike you."


    "Yeah? I''d be stupid indeed if I fell for this obvious trick."


    "Suit yourself. Your new toy''s gone two and a half times around the table leg already, and she''ll be booking it down the tube in a couple of seconds."


    "Ugh," said Havid. He took a step back and risked a quick look behind himself, fists held ready to defend against any surprise attack.


    It wasn''t an opening. But it wasn''t supposed to be. Welton wasn''t trying to distract Havid, he was trying to distract his real enemy: The crowd.


    As they craned their necks trying to see if there really was a pig on a leash about to escape, or stared at Havid''s fists, wondering if he''d be able to react in time to stop Welton''s inevitable attack, Welton plunged through the thinnest part of the wall of people and high-tailed it away.


    As the crowd started yelling, he heard a mighty porcine squeal, and then Havid''s voice shouting "Hey! Come back!"


    But not to him.


    He''d exaggerated how close Daisy had come to freeing herself from the table leg. But fundamentally, it hadn''t been a bluff.


    He pumped his fist in the air as he ran, congratulating Daisy on her escape. Though he had to admit, whatever Havid intended for her, it probably wasn''t all that much worse than life on the streets of Forash as a feral pig.


    Maybe she''d make it out of the city and into the nearby forests. Or maybe he could track her down later and find a better home for her. Though Havid was just as likely to find her as he was.

 Chapter Twenty-two

    Damien''s Delight didn''t look like much: A small, short shopfront in a row of buildings just across the street from the edge of the market. In front of it hung an extremely plain sign with, Rakkel was interested to see, that same mysterious symbol again that xe''d noticed on the bookstore sign.


    On the other side of the windows, some unexciting plastic chairs and tables were crammed into an uncomfortably small space. Most were unoccupied.


    Xe stepped inside and looked around. There was no sign of Welton yet.


    Immediately behind xir, the door opened and shut again. A person in an overcoat and a severely simple hat walked in behind xir and took a seat at a table. Xe followed their example, pulling out a chair from under one of the smaller tables in the corners of the restaurant.


    Xe wasn''t sure what to do now. How did one order food here? Presumably, Welton knew. Maybe xe should just wait for him.


    But after a long day of watching people buy pigs, xe felt extremely hungry.


    Xe looked around at the person who''d followed xir into the restaurant, hoping xe could copy what they were doing, but they weren''t doing anything in particular.


    At the far side of the restaurant, in the wall opposite the door, xe spotted a little window at waist height. Xe stood up from xir chair and walked over to it.


    As xe approached, a pair of hands emerged from it and set down a plastic platter containing two steaming bowls of rice and vegetables. "Chartles," called a voice. The hands disappeared again.


    Behind xir, someone got up from their chair and walked over. They pushed past Rakkel, said "excuse me," took the platter, and walked back to their seat with it.


    "Hello?" called Rakkel through the opening. "I''d like to order some food."


    The hand emerged again, pointed at something on the wall nearby, then withdrew.


    Xe looked over at the thing on the wall. It was a little circular hole covered in black glass, or possibly translucent plastic. Below it was a plaque with that same symbol again: The wireframe cube with the glyph in the center. Xe stared at it, puzzled.


    The door opened, and Welton walked in. He looked disheveled and exhausted.


    Rakkel ran over. "Are you okay?" xe asked.


    "Fine. I ran into an old, er, enemy," he said. "But he didn''t manage to land a punch."


    "What!"


    "Ha, I''m joking," said Welton. "It got a little heated, but then I left. Sorry I''m late."


    "I didn''t realize you were late," xe said. "It''s about the right time still, isn''t it?"


    "Sure," said Welton. "Do you have a table?"


    Rakkel led him to xir table and they both sat down.


    "I haven''t been here yet," he said, "but I hear they''re good. Let''s see the menu." He stared at the wall and fiddled with his glasses. Then he looked down at the thin air between his hands.


    "Hmm," he said. "This is going to be a tough choice. These all look good."


    Rakkel gave him a confused look. But after a moment''s thought, xe realized it was pretty obvious: There was a holo-menu, not a physical one. Xe pulled xir augmented reality visor out of xir messenger bag and turned around to look at the wall.


    The glyph under the little circle of black glass lit up through the visor''s lens. Xe stared at it. A circle appeared, grew bigger, then vanished. A moment later, xir vision filled with light and color.


    Previously, the room had been plain. Now, holo-shapes danced and spun across the walls. Glowing ferns unfolded themselves from neon vases in the corners. Candles hovered above all the tables, their flames softly shifting across a spectrum of pastel shades as they flickered. Lanterns hung on strings draped across the ceiling.


    "Woah," xe said.


    "Ah, good," said Welton. "You''ve figured it out. I was about to explain it to you."


    Xe looked down at the menu that now floated in front of xir above the table''s surface. It listed an array of dishes, little three-dimensional images of them floating in boxes next to their names and prices.


    "You can scroll around with gestures," said Welton. "The visor should be tracking the positions of your hands. If not, you might need to calibrate it. Once you''ve made your selection, tap it with a finger, then look over at the wall again to confirm and send payment."


    "Neat," said Rakkel. "So is that what that symbol means?"


    "What symbol?"


    "The one on the wall that looks like the edges of a little box."


    "Oh, yeah. That''s to let you know there''s AR content. If you see a symbol like that, look at it through your AR device to activate it."


    "I saw it on your duffel bag," said Rakkel.


    "Sure. Dang, I wish I had it with me. I have a cool effect on it," he said. "Remind me to show you some time."


    "No wonder all these shop signs look so dull," xe realized. "They aren''t dull, they''re just, uh, holo. Or however you say it."


    "Augmented," said Welton. "Yeah. That''s what I do as a holo-scribe. More or less."


    "Cool! This is actually really neat. I don''t know why we don''t do more of this back home. I should bring some extra AR devices with me when I return there," Rakkel said.


    Xe looked back at the menu. The dishes all looked delicious. Xe waved a paw experimentally and found that not only did the menu expand and contract to reveal more options, but also that if xe touched the images of the dishes, they''d grow to life size so xe could see them properly.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    "This is a big menu," said Welton. "I guess I''m going to have to come back here more than once. If it''s as good as it''s supposed to be." He touched his own menu and looked over at the wall.


    "What''d you get?" xe asked him.


    "The banana rice. I''ve been craving bananas for some reason," he said.


    "Banana rice?"


    "They''re savory bananas, not sweet ones. I assume."


    Seeing a footnote assuring customers that the restaurant only used vat meats, xe selected a bowl of brown rice and meatballs in a honey mustard sauce. Xe looked over at the wall, and when xe looked back, the menu had vanished.


    "What''d you get?" he asked xir back.


    Xe told him. "I was going to select a drink, though," xe said. "But I forgot. Now the menu''s gone."


    "Look back at the wall and it''ll give you some options. You can usually interact with option menus by staring at the option you want for a couple of seconds."


    "What if I want to read it, though?"


    "Stare near it, not at it."


    Xe turned back to the wall. Sure enough, the wall produced a little box with some options in it, including one to bring the menu back. Xe selected the option and watched the menu re-manifest in front of xir.


    "So, spill it," said Welton. "I''ve been curious all afternoon. Who was that guy?"


    "Oh boy, I''m not even sure where to start. Let''s see... I guess, at the beginning, right?"


    "Good place to start," agreed Welton.


    "Okay, so on my very first day here, after you and I parted ways, I went to go try my hand at market selling..." Xe recounted meeting Madame Flore, selling her the rings, following her to the office building, and leaving again.


    "But what does this have to do with that Guy guy?" asked Welton, interrupting.


    "I''m about to get to that. I went to Salmidon''s to get my AR device, since I had money for it now. But then I decided to turn around and go back up the tunnel-"


    "Ah! That''s how you got past me!"


    "Huh?"


    "I was looking for you. I thought if I stood in front of that curtain with the shark on it, you''d be bound to come back there. But then I finally went back in and Salmidon told me you''d already been and gone." He laughed. "I thought you were deliberately avoiding me! I thought you''d somehow snuck past when my back was turned!"


    "Wait, you were looking for me? Why?"


    "I wanted to apologize, actually."


    "For what?" asked Rakkel. "I was the one who was being a pain in the butt over nothing."


    "Maybe we both were," said Welton. "To be honest, I''d gotten kind of wrapped up in some sort of vision of you. I thought you were, I dunno, ''of my kind'' in some fundamental way that most people aren''t."


    "Yeah, I got that impression." Rakkel shrugged. "I''m just me, though. Not any more or less than that."


    "Sure. I think I''m over it now," he said. "Honestly, I''ve led kind of a lonely life. Maybe I''m a little desperate for something. Some kind of companionship or something. Some kind of intimacy. I''ve never had, you know..." he blushed.


    "Oh? Me neither. It''s not that big a deal, really."


    "What? Really? You''ve never had friends before either?"


    There was an awkward pause.


    "That," said Rakkel, "is not what I thought you were talking about."


    "Um, right," said Welton, still blushing. "I meant friends. Not, you know, that other thing."


    "Sex," Rakkel helpfully supplied.


    "Yeah, that one."


    "I''ve definitely had friends before," xe said.


    "Of course."


    "That''s good, though," said Rakkel. "I really can''t help you with the sex. Friends, though, is easy: You''re my friend. There, I''ve said it. Now you have one."


    "Right," said Welton. "Great. Okay. I''m happy, or at least I will be once this conversation stops being so unbearably awkward."


    "You''ve seriously never had any friends before at all?" asked Rakkel.


    "I had... siblings. And I wish I hadn''t."


    "Who did you play with growing up?"


    "Myself," he said, and winced.


    "Yikes." Xe graciously ignored the double-entendre. "And you don''t have any friends even as an adult? How old are you, anyway?"


    "Thirty-three."


    "Wait, seriously? No way you''re that old. That''s, like, a decade older than me! I thought you were mid twenties, tops."


    Welton winced. "Look," he said, "this is all a wonderfully uncomfortable way for us to get to know each other better, but maybe we can get back to your story now."


    "That''s probably for the best," xe agreed. "Where were we? Oh, yeah. So I went back up the tunnel, and-" Xe felt silent.


    "And?"


    Xir voice went into a whisper. "Don''t look now," xe said, "but did you notice that person in the big coat sitting at that table over there? Don''t look!"


    "Huh? No, I didn''t notice anyone."


    "They followed me in. But they still haven''t ordered anything."


    "Maybe they''re indecisive."


    "They keep staring at me when they think I''m not looking." Something occurred to xir. "I put my name in when I paid for my food," xe said. "The server''s going to call it out."


    "So?"


    "I think this person''s following me because of Guy."


    "Why would Guy have someone follow you?"


    "To find out if it''s really me, I guess. Or to find out who I am. Anyway, I don''t want him to learn my name."


    "They''re staring at you because you''re a lemur," said Welton. "They''re probably staring at me, too. Lots of people do that. I try to ignore them."


    "This is different. How do I cancel my order?"


    "Cancel it? I don''t think you can. They''ve already started making the food, I expect." He squinted at the wall menu. "I don''t see an option for cancelling orders," he added. "Just for adding to them."


    Rakkel stood up. "Only one thing to do then," xe said. Xe walked over to the serving window.


    "Hi," xe said through it. "I have an order under the name ''Rakkel.''"


    "It''s coming up in about seven minutes," replied an irritated voice. "Just wait."


    "That''s fine, but can you change the name?"


    "Huh? Why? I don''t think I can edit it once it''s in the system."


    "Just call out a different name," xe said.


    "But why?"


    "Can you just do it?"


    "I guess so. What name?"


    "I don''t know. Anything."


    "You have to know, or how will you know it''s your food? Listen, we''re all very busy back here. We don''t have time to play games for people."


    "Call me ''Franzis,''" xe said, making up a name at random. "And my friend is, I dunno, ''Zarry.''"


    "What''s your friend''s actual name?"


    "Welton. But now he''s ''Zarry.''"


    "Okay," said the voice, sighing. "I''ll try to remember that. Franzis and Zarry. Anything else?"


    "Thanks," xe said. "I appreciate it."


    Xe went back to xir seat.


    "Let''s eat quickly," xe said, "and talk once we''re outside. If that person follows us, we''ll have to figure out how to lose them first."


    "This is ridiculous," said Welton. "It''s just some random restaurant customer."


    "Maybe," xe said. "I don''t care. I''m not risking it."


    "What did you even do?"


    "Until we''re out of that person''s earshot, I did nothing ever in my life."


    "Should we get the food to go?"


    "What''s that?"


    "What do you mean, ''what''s that''?" he asked. "Like, ordering to go. You know."


    "Never heard of it," xe said. "I don''t go to a lot of restaurants."


    "Huh. Okay. Well, most restaurants have boxes they can put your food in so you can take it away," he said. "Without stealing their plates."


    "Oh yeah? Perfect!" Xe stood up to go back to the window.


    "No, wait, you can do it from the menu," he said.


    "Oh. Right. That''s better." Xe looked over at the menu.


    "It''s under ''carryout,''" Welton added.


    Xe selected ''carryout.''


    A few minutes later, the voice called out "Zilly and Zanzibar" in a slightly exasperated tone of voice. Rakkel ran up, grabbed the two mycelium containers, and ran back to Welton.


    "Let''s go," xe said.


    "Zilly and Zanzibar?"


    "Those aren''t the names I gave," xe said, "I gave much better ones." Xe pulled at his arm.


    Sighing, he got up and followed xir out of the restaurant.


    Shortly afterward, the person in the overcoat stood up and followed.


    In the kitchen, a burly woman wearing dreadlocks turned away from the serving window where she''d just left a pair of food containers. A second burly woman wearing dreadlocks walked over to her. They both wore aprons. The latter held a long-handled spoon, still coated in bits of the fried vegetables she''d been stirring.


    "Rakkel and Welton," the first one said to the second. "Those are their names."