Date: CT2-5876/01/02

I'm walking along the seafloor in an impossible tunnel of air, surrounded on all sides by the vast beauty of an ocean. Fish swim and swarm and otherwise live their lives in the suspended water as if all of this were normal. To them, I suppose, it is. To me it's nothing short of breathtaking.

Still, I can't quite escape the fear that the sea could come crashing down around me at any moment. It won't though - no matter how much an instinctual, irrational part of me believes that it will - the preposterous number of apparent impossibilities I have witnessed today is a near-airtight guarantee of that. All doubt is gone at this point: for real-real I am here, in the future, on the Cube.

The fucking cube.

Now there's another impossibility.

The Cube is, as far as I've gathered, an unimaginably vast starship composed of hundreds of billions of different sections, each with their own deck-row-column coordinates. Each and every section is unique, with its own intent, use and aesthetic. Truthfully it's more than I can conceptualize, but with the live tour I'm receiving from Zachary, certain things are becoming clear.

This isn't some near-future scenario. I'm a long, long way out from when I was born. How in all hell I ended up here I have no idea, but it's enough to make me want to fall to my knees and pray to any god that'll listen.

I learned so much back at Eliot's but, predictably, with every answer came a fresh set of questions. For all I learned, broadly speaking, I'm still clueless.

Zachary points at some particularly eye-catching fish and we stop to stare at them. We each make some noise about how gorgeous they are, and how incredible this all is. I don't admit how terrified I am, and mark my words I am terrified. Not just about the whole suspended water thing either, sea creatures kind of freak me out and, until now, I've never been this close to anything living underwater that was larger than a cod fillet.

We're alone out here - Zachary and I - in this bizarre, astounding environment. I'd been wondering how it could be possible that someplace like this isn't constantly filled with a crowd of gawking onlookers, but I think I'm finally close to an answer. The Cube is huge - fucking huge - with an almost infinite amount of things to do and see, and while this place is special in it's own way, it's only one incredible, unparalleled experience among millions, perhaps billions.

A sense of isolation creeps through me. I've barely seen a soul other than Zachary and Eliot since waking up, and for the last few hours I haven't even seen Eliot. They told me Zachary would take care of me and then left us to our own devices; they had something they needed to do, apparently, though they did say they'd catch up with me tomorrow. I reckon they needed a break from my giddy naivety, and I don't blame them for it, but I do miss them. Then again, having some one-on-one time with Zachary isn't exactly something I should be complaining about.

Even in the middle of this awe-inducing ocean I keep stealing glances at him, doing my best to commit every inch of his body to memory. I know I'm a perv, but what can I say? I've had the hots for anthros since I was a teenager, I'm not gonna start apologising for it now.

“So, Mei, any idea what you wanna do next?"

“Actually, yeah," I say, trying to clear the filth from my brain before moving my tongue any more. “I'm pretty hungry. How about we get something to eat? And, y'know, I could probably use a break from all the mind-bending shit I've seen so far today."

“Oh, good idea," he says with a loose, goofy grin. “Shall we go back to my place, or...?"

I bite my lower lip and allow myself the brief mental image of going back to Zachary's - getting over him, under him, either - but, no.

“Surely there are places we can go out to eat, right? Like a restaurant, or at least something communal."

He pauses and tilts his head to one side, his eyes glaze over for a second, then he looks right at me.

“We do indeed," he says, nodding enthusiastically.

“What were you doing just now?" I ask.

“Huh?"

“You stopped and your eyes just sort of... glazed over." I pause then wave my arms dismissively, laughing. “Maybe you just spaced out for a sec."

“Oh! No, I was accessing my display to find out what a restaurant is."

“You didn't know?" I ask. He shakes his head.

“No. I mean, communal eating is common, but people tend to just generate the food they want. Restaurants are a pretty old school concept from what I can tell, but that doesn't mean they're not a thing. In fact, my display tells me there are plenty of them out there. Of course, we should access a terminal for the full scoop."

“Zachary," I say.

“Yes?"

A manta ray swims right over us, catching my eye as it glides alarmingly close to the water's edge. Its natural grace seems so out of place here. Very little of what I've seen on the Cube could be described as 'natural'. That's not to say I disapprove, or that I don't like it here, it's just... It's a lot.

I drag my gaze back to Zachary and clear my throat.

“Is this a bad time for me to tell you I have no fucking clue what a 'display' is?"

He laughs wildly. My eyes chase his erratic, wagging tail.

“I keep forgetting just how much of this is new to you." He does his best to restore his composure before continuing. “A display is an adaptive overlay that most people get installed directly into their brain, or some shit. I don't really know how it works, I'm not a scientist - ask Zed if you want the details - but, basically, it's a computer you can interact with by just thinking. You can use it to interface with various technologies, or to record and play video, but it also interprets what you see and hear in real time and gives appropriate, contextual feedback as defined by your settings and preferences. For example, I didn't know what a restaurant was so, on request, it defined the term for me and, on further request, it gave me some basic info about the restaurants on the Cube."

“You only stopped for like a second!"

He shrugs. “It works fast."

“That's fucking insane. You're telling me you know whatever you want, whenever you want to know it?"

“Oh, jeez, no. Displays have their limits. They contain only relatively surface level information, and accessing it isn't totally instant. Then again, some people do connect their displays to the Database and end up close to as omniscient as you may have thought I was, but that's no way to live."

“Why not?"

“It fucks you up! All of human history, all science and culture and even all current events being transmitted to you all at once, all the time, forever?" He shakes his head, wearing a distant stare. “The people that do that to themselves, well, they're no longer living as you or I understand it." He dismisses the thought with a wave of his paw. “Anyway, the point is: I don't know everything."

“I think I get it, the display doesn't make you some sort of genius, you've just got an on-demand Wikipedia in your head."

“Wikipedia?" He asks. I smile and shrug. He stops and tilts his head and his eyes glaze over again. “Ah," he says. “I suppose that's not an entirely inaccurate comparison. Though of course a display has far more functionality than an encyclopedia. Interacting with your system, for example," he says. I stare at him, face blank. “And you have no idea what a system is either, do you? Of course you don't." He laughs and runs his fingers through his hair. “One step at a time, right?"

“One step at a time," I repeat, nodding. I've learnt so much today that my brain should probably be on implosion notice. “Thanks Zachary."

“No need to thank me for shutting my mouth," he says, laughing and leading me toward the nearest terminal. “And, Mei, you can just call me Zach." My heart skips. “Most people do." It skips a little less but, still, it's jittery.

I try to play it cool.

“Sure. Zach it is. And, hey, if you like you can call me Em."

“Em, huh? I like it. Short and sweet, just like you."

“Hey, I'm not that short!" I retort, internally gushing over the 'sweet' half of his declaration.

“Short enough," he says with a toothy grin. “Why 'M', then? Three letters too much for you?"

I snort and shake my head.

I decide that this is one of my favourite things about Zachary - about Zach. I may be out of place and time and he may only have known me a few hours, but he's not afraid to joke and tease and generally be himself. Maybe if I had a different temperament I'd find him petulant and annoying but, either way, he's undeniably and unapologetically him.

“Em? It's just a nickname I ended up with," I say. It's a pre-practiced, insincere response and I regret it as soon as it leaves my mouth. I'm here, in a new time and place. I don't have to tell the lies I used to tell. I don't have to hide anymore. I've always wanted to be open, to be honest. I've always wanted to be myself. Well? Here's my chance. “Actually, no. That's a lie. It's not a nickname, not exactly. It's a name I chose for myself. More specifically, it's the name of my fursona."

“Your fursona?" His eyes narrow, then widen again. “Oh, you mentioned that earlier right? I- hang on." Again, his eyes glaze. “Right, right, yeah. So now you're on the Cube you're assuming your fursona's identity, is that it?"

“Well, I always saw my sona as a version of myself, you know? Like it was me, but as I wish I was, rather than as I actually existed. But now I'm here, and you've told me I can become a morph like you so, I guess, I'm hoping I can make that version of me the real one."

“Fuck yeah," he says, nodding, a great big grin plastered across his face. “Self actualisation and all that good shit. I love it."

I can't help but laugh. A cautious joy stirs within me. Settling in won't be easy, but I'm gonna fucking love it here.

“I'm really glad you understand, Zach."

“Of course," he says, as if it were normal, as if it were nothing. Maybe, in this place and time, it is. “And hey, if you don't mind me asking, what kind of morph do you want to become?"

He's asking what species my sona is. I feel both giddy and a little embarrassed as I answer.

“Well I want to become a, uh... a squirrel morph."

“Oh!"

“A red squirrel morph."

“Yeah?"

“But, you know, still with the long black hair," I say, indicating the genuine article.

“Awesome."

“Except with, like, purple highlights."

“You've really got it all planned out."

“And these teal markings in my fur. I know that's not naturalistic, but-"

He waves his paws. “You don't have to justify yourself Em."

“It's just that you and Eliot look true-to-source, at least in terms of your fur colours. Fursonas were often a bit more... out there. Mine was no exception."

“Good. I can hardly wait to see you in your true form, Em." He says. A blush runs hot through my cheeks. “And it might soothe you to know there are plenty of out there animal morphs on the Cube, trust me. You'll fit right in."

Some of the anxiety that had been building in my stomach dissipates. I feel good. So good.

“Zach, I don't know how to say this in a way that doesn't make me sound like an over-enthusiastic little kid, so I'll just say it. I'm so fucking excited to become a morph!" I exclaim, unable to elucidate my thoughts more eloquently.

“Well, hey! We can get that sorted after lunch, if you like."

“Are you serious? It's that casual? That easy?"

“Em, you're on the Cube. Everything's as casual and easy as you want it to be."

---

There are literally more options for restaurants than I can scroll through at max speed before losing patience.

I narrow the search to Chinese cuisine which is, thankfully, an option. Understandably - I think - I'm craving something familiar in the midst of all this madness. It's good madness, for sure, but it's madness nonetheless.

Still, that stipulation is not enough, I scroll and scroll and scroll and soon I'm overwhelmed by options all over again. Zach says I should narrow the search by expected patrons, so I decide on someplace not too busy and an animal morph-centric clientele, allowing for some base-humans. It helps some, but... scroll, scroll, scroll. Zach says if I'm not too fussed on specifics I could go ahead and choose one at random at this point. So, with no better ideas, I make my arbitrary selection.

A sudden stab of deja vu.

And then it's gone.

I step onto the nearby transporter with Zach. In a blink we're at our destination with nothing but a fleeting - and almost imperceptible - sensation of velocity to account for it.

Looking around the venue I'm hit by a crushing wave of stimuli. It's more than I can process all at once. We're in a reception room of sorts, all done in black wood and tinted glass, and from where I'm standing I can see the entrance that leads to the restaurant proper. I get a decent look at a couple tables filled with people chatting, drinking, eating. Full grown bunny morphs in jackets and smart trousers are sat right beside tigers in shorts and tank tops sat beside regular-ass humans in whatever-the-fuck.

A glimpse is all I need to know that the customer base here is a bizarre melting pot of cultures and styles. Euphoria lifts me. This is it. This is the future I dreamed of, the life I wished for, but it's a lot to take in. It's more than I can take in. All at once I find myself overwhelmed by the gargantuan implications of what I'm seeing - of what I'm living. I kind of want to curl up and disappear. I kind of want to cry. Happy tears, probably.

An East Asian man dressed in a black suit and red tie walks into the reception room and greets us warmly. He steps up to a podium and removes two menus from it. I'm aware, at this point, that an analogue flourish such as a paper menu is entirely unnecessary for the denizens of the Cube, but it's one that comforts me.

“Table for two?" He asks.

It takes me a moment to realise that he isn't speaking English, but rather a variant of Mandarin.

As soon as I clock that I burst into tears.

The greeter furrows his brow, then looks to Zachary for help. Zach just shrugs and grins, no doubt finding my intense reaction intriguing, amusing, or both.

“Yes," I say, also in Mandarin, forcing the word through joyous sobs. I had no idea that hearing my nana's language would hit me so hard, but the implications are massive and, more than that, it reminds me of her. I never would have learned Mandarin if not for nana. I miss her dearly. I'm glad I didn't leave her behind. I suppose that's the one and only silver lining of her passing. She died over two years before I woke up here, but the impression she left on me hasn't faded, not even a little. “A table for two would be perfect."

The greeter regains his composure and, with a nod, leads us into the dining hall. The room is spacious and classily decorated. The furniture and fittings come in muted blacks and browns with occasional flourishes of red. The seating itself is split into two tiers, with the lower being on the floor, as you might expect, and the upper being composed of individual tables positioned on isolated floating platforms. Other than the thin translucent staircases that lead up to them, they appear suspended in thin air.

It's one of those suspended tables that Zach and I are led to. I get a pang of fear as we traverse the barely-visible stairs, but I keep in mind the number of impossibilities I've witnessed today and put trust in the absurd.

As we sit the greeter hands us each a menu, then takes his leave with another bob of his head. It's only now that I clock what I've been seeing out of the restaurant's windows. My subconscious had mistaken them for screens displaying intricate moving patterns but, no, I'm pretty sure they're windows and, as far as I can tell, we're hurtling through space.

“Jesus fucking Christ!" I exclaim. As quickly as I had been moved to tears, I'm now on the precipice of throwing up.

“What's wrong?" Zach asks. He traces the path of my gaze to the windows, to the dots of light speeding past, to the - what are they? - meteors? spinning in the not-so-distance. “Oh. Interesting."

“Interesting?" I squeak.

“Yeah, I mean, that's a cool gimmick right? We're in this restaurant, hurtling through a vacuum."

“Through space!"

“Well, sort of, yeah.

“Sort of? What's 'sort of' about it?"

“We're still on the Cube, in fact we're," he pauses and consults his display. “On D1116-R132-C9843. This must be some huge section designed to emulate space, it may even be a bunch of sections stitched together. And look, out there," he points at the stars. “Those are bright, distant lights meant to look like stars. And those," He points at the meteors. “Those are most likely other constructions, like the one we're in right now, with the same gimmick. Could be more restaurants, clubs, spas, housing, anything!" He sees my paling skin and widening eyes and adds: “Oh, don't worry. We won't crash. It's all perfectly safe."

“What the fuck?" I whisper. Then, louder: “I don't know if you've gathered this yet Zach, but I've never been in a building that's hurtling through a vacuum before. I think I'm getting space sick. God, what if something goes wrong? What if one of those things out there smashes into us?"

“It won't," he's utterly confident in his answer, but he's savvy enough to realise that I'm not. “And if it did, Zed would either forcefully stop the collision or transport all of us out of here."

“Zed can do that?"

“Sure can."

I continue staring out the nearest window. It takes me a while to find the words. “I thought Zed was just a cute name for the Cube's database-slash-operating-system."

“Oh, no no, Zed's far more than that. It's an AI."

“That's why it has a name?"

“I couldn't say why it has a name exactly, but that might be part of it. Though, Zed isn't really it's name, that's just what most of us call it."

“Then what is its name?"

“Zed Zed Nine Plural Zed Alpha."

The words echo strangely in my head. I've heard them before. I allow them to worm their way through my brain until they unlock the appropriate set of memories. When they do, I laugh.

“A Douglas Adams reference?"

Zach raises an eyebrow. “Is it? I wouldn't know. I always thought it was a rather strange name."

“It's from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the-" I shake my head. “Never mind. Look it up later. So, is Zed, like, sentient?"

“No, but it's... aware. It was very precisely and meticulously designed to be both incredibly intelligent and very much not sentient. It has no thoughts or desires of it's own, it simply does as it was programmed to do when the Cube was created."

“Which is?"

“To provide us with a complete database of all past and present history; to see to all of the Cube's inhabitants' needs and desires; to facilitate fair decision making by us humans when something crops up that exceeds its programming; and to keep the laws of each section as they are set. The vast majority of sections don't allow accidental death, and certainly not intentional murder. If such an event is imminent, Zed will stop it."

“And this AI has the power to transport anyone wherever it likes?" I shiver, contemplating the extreme capabilities of the supercomputer. “It has the power to stop gigantic structures from hurtling through a zero gravity vacuum at a moment's notice?"

“Yep."

“Doesn't that scare you?"

He furrows his brow. “Why would it?"

“What if it decided it didn't like humans anymore and transported everyone into deep space?"

He laughs. “Like I said, Zed was precisely and meticulously designed. It won't do anything it wasn't programmed to do."

“What makes you so sure that one day it won't flip?"

“Ah," he nods. “It might help you to know that Zed has been running since the inception of the Cube."

“Shit," I say, feeling silly. “It's been thousands of years. It would've flipped by now if it was going to, right?"

“It's been longer than that but, yes, I'm sure it would have."

“Wait, longer? What do you mean? How long has the Cube been running?"

Zach's muzzle is shut tight, he grimaces, his ears wilt. It seems he said something he didn't mean to say. “One thing at a time, right Em?"

My head is spinning.

“Come on, give me a ballpark figure. Has it been ten thousand years since the start of the Cube? A hundred thousand?" He doesn't say anything, his lips are sealed. “A million?"

“Em, let's just move on."

I go silent. My energy drains.

A waiter approaches, a lemur morph, and they ask us what we'd like to drink.

I can't think. I stare outside, at the constructions hurtling past the window. That one came close. So damn close. I barely even flinched.

I feel like I'm unwinding.

Is any of this even real?

It has to be. I feel it all, I remember it all. Stop fooling yourself Mei.

It dawns on me how little I know about where I am or why I'm here or how or what the fuck the rest of my life might look like.

Zach is staring at me, frowning, his ears flattened.

“Could we just get some water for now?" He asks the waiter, in English. “We need a few more minutes to decide."

“Of course," the lemur says with a bob of their head, very much in Mandarin and they walk away, apparently unfazed by my not-so-subtly distraught state.

“You okay Em?" Zach asks, when they're out of earshot. “I know this is a lot for you. If things are moving too fast then we can get out of here. We can go back to my place, or find somewhere more familiar to you."

“No," I say. “I'll be okay, I just- Yeah. It's a lot. But I'm here, so I'd rather not bury my head in the sand." He tilts his head quizzically. “I mean, I'd rather not pretend things aren't as they are. I'm glad to be here - I really am - but, yeah... It will take time to adjust."

“Of course," he says.

A silence settles as we each lapse into thought. Soon enough the waiter brings our water, then leaves without a word. I pour myself a glass and take a few gulps. I feel better for it.

“So," Zach starts. “You speak Chinese?"

“Yeah," I say, with a nod. “Northern Mandarin, to be more precise. My grandma was Chinese, I learned Mandarin so I could speak to her."

“Oh, really? That couldn't have been easy."

“It wasn't. She moved to England shortly before she had my mum, but she never learned English, not properly. My mum was born in London, and so was I, but she never bothered to teach me Mandarin. I had to take it upon myself to learn. My dad was plain old white-British, so he was no help. Still, I made it work."

“It really must be something though, having a history like that."

“What do you mean?"

“I mean, well, it's not like that for most of us anymore. Our ancestry is nothing other than generation upon generation of Cube denizens; people morphing themselves into who and what they want to be without regard to their past. To be clear: it has its advantages, but, yeah, it's different."

I nod. “I didn't think of it that way. You know, I was wondering Zach, you talked to the waiter in English but you both seemed to understand one another, how does that work?"

“Oh, right, yeah. I don't know a word of Mandarin, but when somebody speaks it my display live translates the words so, to me, it sounds like they're speaking English. It doesn't look like it though, the mouth movements never line up."

“Got it," I say. “Like a bad dub. I'm guessing your display can do that for any language."

Zach nods. “For any of the popular ones at least," he draws a breath as if ready to continue, then stops himself.

“What is it?"

“One thing at a time," he says. “I really need to be better at not overloading you with info."

“I appreciate the sentiment, but you've piqued my interest. If it's nothing too devastating I want to hear it."

His jaw shifts and his tail swipes to one side, then the other. “Okay," he says. “Dammit, I'm bad at this. Eliot wouldn't approve but, hey, they're not here." I shake my head and laugh, Zach grins. “I was about to explain that the vast majority of people on the Cube primarily speak one of only four different languages. English, Chinese - Mandarin, as you know it - Hindi and Spanish. All other languages they - well - they exist, but for most intents and purposes, they're dead."

“It's been a long, long time since I was born, I'm surprised any language I speak still exists, let alone both of them."

“Lucky you," Zach says. “That wasn't too much of a truth bomb then?"

“After all I've seen and heard today? No." It's such a ludicrous thing to both say and mean that I can't help but smile. For the first time since waking up, I allow myself to relax, if only a little.

I take a look at the menu, finally, and for a split second wonder how I'm going to afford this. Then I remember: there's no use for money here. This entire society is post-wealth. As far as I can tell it's post-need. They - we - have everything we want at our fingertips. Nobody here even has to work, from what I understand those who take up jobs do so of their own accord.

I don't be anxious or scared, no matter how much of this is new to me or how little I understand because, frankly, I'm living in a goddam utopia.

“So, uh, Em." Zach says, clearing his throat. He doesn't sound his usual confident self. “Could I ask you something?"

“Of course."

He lifts up the restaurant's menu. His eyes are wide with fear.

“What the hell is this and what are we meant to do when that lemur comes back?"

I burst out laughing.