Date: (?) 01/01

“Just confirm it here for me and sign."

I do as she asks without hesitation. An odd concoction of numbness, nausea and faint - ever so faint - hope passes through me.

“So, only one decision left. Have you made up your mind?"

I nod, though the very idea of making such a choice seems insane to me. It's like playing god in miniature. All of this is utterly ludicrous. And, yet, it's very real.

It's clear to me there's credence to that old saying: 'ignorance is bliss'. I mean, of course there is, otherwise I wouldn't be here.

Still playing god, I make my selection.

“Okay, great. Are you ready?"

I confirm that I am.

Everything's in order, most things have been for weeks.

A feeling I can't quite identify surges within me. Is it anxiety? Joy? Satisfaction? Fear?

Whatever it is, it doesn't matter. My course is set, it's too late to change direction now.

“Okay, let's get started. Lay back for me, and close your eyes."

I do as she says.

---

Date: (?) 01/02

It takes longer than I'd like to admit for my brain to clock that something is wrong.

I don't remember falling asleep in the middle of a field, but here I am. The sun is bright, but not blinding; at any rate, it's enough to shock me into motion.

I jolt upright and look around.

The field is all lush, long grass and wildflowers. The air is crisp and clear and carries a hint of the flowers' fragrance. Wherever this is, it's closer to an idyllic image of English countryside than to the real thing.

What happened last night? Did I get blackout drunk, or high, or?

How the hell did I end up here? And where exactly is here?

The sky is clear of clouds and glows with the soft light of dawn. The field goes on for miles in every direction bar one. Off to the right are distant hills, to the left and behind lie the beginnings of a forest, in front, and closest, is a row of buildings, probably residential, about a half-mile away.

One thing's for sure. This isn't London.

A pang of fear strikes me with the sudden violence of a viper. Where the hell am I? For all I know this is the remote depths of Wales.

I try to take stock of the situation piece by piece. I'm clothed in casual nightwear: logo shorts and a comfy top. I don't have my phone. In fact, other than my clothes I don't have anything on me at all.

None of this makes any sense.

I would panic, but this is too bizarre to take seriously, instead I dismiss its veracity out of hand. None of this is real.

I stand and take a few steps toward the buildings, examining my imagination's handiwork. It doesn't feel like a dream exactly, but maybe that's always how it goes, and when you wake up all the detail you thought was there when asleep vanishes in an instant, leaving only a shell of what once was.

A blue cat and a spotted hyena - both a little taller than me and, more to the point, wearing clothing and standing on two legs - walk right past me and I almost scream. Instead I merely let out a small shriek.

The two of them are beautiful creatures: my fantasies brought to life. They're adult, bipedal people with features falling somewhere between feral and human, both instantly recognizable as the animals they're based off and as sentient humanoids. They have gorgeous fur pelts alongside a head of more human-like hair. The cat's is silver-grey and mid length with a streak dyed white, while the hyena's is golden blond and worn up in a fauxhawk.

Okay. Definitely dreaming.

If full-on fursonas walking by wasn't enough of a clue, I can say for sure that they weren't standing behind me a few moments ago. They just sort of... appeared.

None of this is real.

Hearing my shriek they turn. The cat's ears tilt down toward me and it bobs its head. I'm struck instantly by its androgyny in both appearance and style. It wears black jeans and a jacket over a white shirt, or blouse. It has an industrial piercing in each of its oversized ears alongside a string of gold rings running down its left, giving it the even stronger impression of a fursona come to life. It's messy head hair forms a partial fringe that somewhat covers one of its large, green eyes, giving the cat the vibe of an emo-band front person gone bestial.

“Are you all right?" It asks, it's voice calm and neutral.

“Uh-" I stutter, struggling to find words.

“She's probably high or something," the hyena says, waving a paw in vague dismissal. The hyena has a couple piercings of its own - a ring through the nose and another in its right ear - and is flagrantly wearing a purple collar around its neck like some kind of forwardly furry fashion statement.

This is a strange dream. I like it though. Or, I would, if it weren't for how uncanny it is.

It feels like the anthros are really there, standing in front of me, rendered in complete detail. And I can see, I can smell, I can think, I can reason. Not exactly dreamlike, right?

Perhaps it's all a trick of the mind; maybe my reality-implying perceptions are a part of the dream itself.

“I like your designs," I say. “If only you were real."

The cat's tail flicks to one side and it looks at me with an eyebrow raised, confused and questioning.

“I'm not sure whether to be flattered or offended. I assure you that we're real." The cat says, and with a flick of its wrist it gestures broadly at itself.

“Eliot," the hyena says, addressing the cat. “She's high, or crazy, let's go."

The cat throws a final, concerned glance in my direction, then walks away side by side with the hyena.

I sigh and rub my eyes. This is definitely one of the strangest dreams I've ever had. I could try waking up I suppose, but I'll admit I'm rather curious where this is going.

I stand and watch the anthros walk away for a few seconds, then idly follow them. The grass and soil give a little under my bare feet and the suspiciously high fidelity feel of earth on skin is disconcerting, to say the least.

Can a dream really be so detailed? So precise? I don't know. This makes no sense.

It doesn't matter. I surely won't be here for long; I might as well enjoy it.

I study the anthros' bodies, their swishing tails, their gently swaying rears. God they're hot.

I'm such a thirsty bitch.

You know what? It really fucking sucks to lust after something that isn't real, let me tell you.

But, in spite of the distraction, part of me is waking up and wondering...

I mean, this has been going on for a while now. What if I'm...?

Like, am I, maybe, not actually... asleep?

I'm breathing fast, my heart is thumping.

I'm shaking off the uncertainty and blurriness of recent sleep and quickly approaching full consciousness.

This isn't like any dream I've ever had before.

I'm thinking clearly, all of my senses are functioning, my memories are intact, I'm a proper person all over again and - you know what? - all of this feels real. Even the walking, talking animal people.

I'm hyperventilating.

What the fuck is happening?

I'm still following them.

I have to do something.

I speak up, my voice is crackly and weak.

“Hey, uh, uh, Eliot, was it?"

They stop. The cat swivels to face me, the hyena follows its - or, I suppose, their - lead.

“Are you following us?"

“No, well, uh, I'm, it's- ugh. What I'm trying to say is, I don't know where I am, or how I got here, or, well, anything really."

Concern contorts the cat's features and the hyena tilts its head; thankfully, the two of them appear more curious than annoyed.

“Are you for real?" The hyena asks. I nod. “We're on D8499-R7493-C1728." I don't react, I have no idea what they mean. They furrow their brow. “Deck 8499, Row 7493, Column 1728."

I open my mouth but, finding no words, I soon close it again.

“You know, on the Cube," they add with a chuckle, as if having to clarify such a thing is a joke unto itself.

“Look," I say, the absurdity of talking to a human-shaped hyena hitting me hard. “I have no fucking clue what you're on about."

“What's the last thing you remember?" The sleek blue-grey cat, Eliot, asks.

My head hurts when I think back.

London.

England.

January 2022. The dawn of a new year.

My life had been a slog.

I hadn't moved out. My dad hated that. My mom pretended she didn't. My job was shitty. I spent most of my free time browsing furry sites and failing to learn how to draw. I loved the community, it gave me a place where I could be myself and feel accepted, but I hadn't really made any friends. I was always too scared - too anxious - to actually start conversations. It was getting to me. I wasn't happy. Fuck that, I was depressed.

But what exactly is the last thing I remember?

Yesterday...

Yesterday I had planned to do something. What was it?

I... I don't know.

It was late, I was still up, I was tired. There was something I was going to do, but...

No. I'm not sure.

I remember feeling fuzzy. I remember darkness and then...

And then I woke up here.

“I don't really- I don't know. I guess I had a pretty normal day and just... I don't know. At some point I fell asleep, and now I'm here." A pertinent question occurs to me. “What the hell is the Cube?"

The cat and hyena glance at one another, the question itself clearly marking me as the most extreme kind of oddity.

“It's where we are," the hyena says. “Where the fuck do you think you were yesterday?"

“London," I say.

The hyena stares at me blankly and shrugs. Eliot grimaces and says: “I, uh, when exactly do you think this is?"

My heart sinks.

“January," I say.

“Okay," they say, nodding. “That's something we can agree on. What year?"

“Uh, 2022."

The cat shakes its head.

“Are you serious?" The hyena butts in, wide-eyed, apparently every bit as bewildered as I am.

“I'm serious."

“It's CT2-5876."

I shake my head. “I have no idea what that means."

“Eliot, do you think she needs medical attention?"

“I, uh, I'm not sure exactly."

I dig my nails into my palms and it's a familiar pain. It's also a very real one. I repeat the date the hyena told me in my head, hoping for dream logic to jumble it up and distort it, to prove that none of this is real, but it stays the same. Any last shred of disbelief shatters.

This is real. This is fucking real.

“So, what, you're saying it's been almost four thousand years since I went to sleep?" I ask, the idea leaving me lightheaded. I consciously try to embrace the absurdity. Anything else would lead to madness.

“I guess," the hyena says.

The cat, Eliot, shakes their head.

“Her date was pre Cube Time, Zachary."

The hyena, Zachary, blinks repeatedly and runs a paw through their hair.

“Well," they say. “This is exciting." A grin spreads across their muzzle. “It's been a lot longer than four thousand years."

Fuck. I-

I'm sound of mind and body. This insanity is real. I fell asleep and woke up in the distant future. An overwhelming crush of emotion swallows me whole, but it's entirely dominated by one single feeling:

Joy.

Fuck. Yes.

A hyperactive jolt of excitement strikes. I can barely contain myself as I speak, my arms moving wildly to form exaggerated gestures.

“My name's Mei. I fell asleep in London, England, uh, on Earth, in 2022 and I woke up here, today. Maybe that sounds crazy - or maybe not, I don't know - but, either way, it's lovely to meet you both and, uh, I might need some help settling in. I don't really know where I am or what I should be doing."

“Zach," says the cat.

“Yeah, Eliot?"

“We have new plans for the day."

Zachary laughs and nods. “Agreed."

Eliot looks me up and down. “Mei, right?"

“That's right," I say, blinking, parts of my mind still waging a failing war to reject this new reality.

“Well, Mei, welcome to the Cube." The cat lifts their arms and gestures generally out and around us. “I think you'll enjoy it here."

“You know what?" I say, a giddy feeling flowing through me. “I think so too."

“So, introductions. He's Zachary." The cat says pointing at the hyena.

“And they're Eliot," the hyena says, pointing at the cat. He shifts his attention to me. “And you have no idea how you got here?"

“None at all," I say, offering a handshake. Pawshake? “I'm getting the vibe that this doesn't happen very often."

He looks at my hand and tilts his head, then says: “It might, but this is the first I've heard of it. I don't know all that much though, relatively speaking." He taps the side of his head. “I prefer it that way."

I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. I have a million questions already and every time one of them opens their muzzle I only end up with more.

“Fair enough," I say.

Zachary points at my hand.

“What are you doing?"

“I, uh, oh!" I withdraw it. “An old tradition, I suppose. Seems it hasn't lasted."

“It's been a long time," Eliot says, with a soft smile. “A lot has changed. But, you don't exactly seem devastated to have left your life behind, or your friends and mates, or the world you knew."

“I'm not," I say. “I hated my old life. I wasn't happy, the world was in a rancid state and, truthfully, I haven't left anyone behind to miss. I didn't have a romantic partner or any truly close friends. Maybe it'll hit me harder later, but right now? I'm excited. I mean I've only been here a few minutes, but meeting two friendly, furry people right away has got to be a good omen."

Eliot ejects a brief and quiet laugh. “Well I don't know much about your time, yet, but you're on the Cube now. I can only imagine this place will treat you better than your world ever did. You can do anything you want here, and you can be anyone."

“Really? Can I be a walking-talking animal like you?" I ask the ludicrous question before considering whether it might be offensive. I have no idea about Eliot and Zachary's culture, or where they're from, or who they are. Are they aliens? Evolved wild animals? Genetic experiments? I have no clue.

“Sure," Eliot says. “If you want."

My jaw drops. I visualise becoming my fursona, for real, finally, as I'd so often fantasised. I almost scream.

Instead, I say: “fuck yeah I do."

---

The throbbing, unignorable roar of confusion and ecstasy inside of me is almost impossible to contain. It leaks out as we approach the row of suspiciously non-futuristic looking buildings in the form of squeaks, shudders and little bursts of laughter. The anthros probably think I'm insane, but I don't care.

This is the best day of my life.

We talked only a little longer before moving on, collectively deciding to head back to Eliot's place before I drown the two of them in questions; they hope a more contained environment and easier access to Zed will make my settling in a little easier on us all. Who or what 'Zed' is I can't say but, with considerable effort, I bit the question back. I don't want to overwhelm them, or me, and I'd rather not make a bad first impression. Well, at least not a worse one than I've already made. Though, surprisingly, they don't seem to hate me quite yet. Zachary even seems to find my enthusiasm and naivety rather amusing. I can only hope that that impression lasts as my awe-induced silenced morphs into loud-mouthed gushing.

I have to keep telling myself that this is real, that I escaped London, that I lucked into a new life, that I'm in the motherfucking future and that I couldn't be happier.

I'm both in awe and awash with jealousy as I stare at my two new acquaintances, soaking them in my gaze. I want to be like them. All those hours designing, drawing and daydreaming of my fursona and now, here, right in front of me, are flesh and blood versions of the real thing. And they tell me my dream is not a dream, that I can be like them, that I can be whoever I want.

It's almost too much. I almost don't want to believe it. It's too perfect. No reality could be this good, could it? Even if I really can become an anthro of my own design, there will be problems, right? Setbacks? Consequences? And maybe it's expensive, maybe I'll need to save for years, maybe I'll never be able to afford it. There's so much I don't know. How does their economy work? How difficult will it be for me to get a job? Is there socialised care? Will I be okay if I struggle to integrate? Are there systems in place to help me, or people like me? My hosts seem so positive about all this that I'll admit I'm hopeful. I mean, if any sentient beings have survived this long I can only hope that they've figured out basic decency by now. I want to ask, but-

No questions. Not yet.

It's going to take time to adjust, but no matter how long it takes, or how hard it is, I'll do it. Nothing could be worse than my old life. Nothing could be worse than London. I was lonely. I was exhausted. I was depressed. I was borderline...

But now I'm here.

How the hell did I end up here?

No questions.

I fall behind a little as we rise up a grassy mound toward the line of buildings and, once again, I find myself staring where I probably shouldn't. One voice in my head is asking how the hell I can be horny now, while another is explaining that this is exactly where my crippling yiff addiction has led me. To lechery, that is; not so much the whole 'being in the future' thing.

Zachary checks back to see if I'm still following and, finding that I am, traces the path of my gaze. My cheeks go hot and I look away.

Here I am, my dreams coming true, meeting hot anthros, and the first thing I do is expose myself for the raging pervert I am. Keep your thirst in check girl.

“You're cute," Zachary says.

My heart skips. I can barely breathe.

“Uh," I try to say, but somehow I can't even manage that single syllable and all that comes out is an odd, unintelligible squeal. I shake my head, clear my throat, concentrate and say: “thanks."

“Don't mind Zachary, he's harmless," Eliot says. Then, addressing the hyena, they add: “leave the girl alone Zach, we may as well be aliens to her. Try to keep your sex drive in check for at least a few hours, alright?"

Zachary rolls his eyes. I'm still staring at him. He notices and winks.

“For what it's worth," I say, nervous but determined. “I think you're both very good looking."

“That must be a rather exotic taste for somebody from your time, surely?" Eliot remarks as we reach the crest of the gentle hill. “You seem to have a particular interest in us animal morphs."

The line of buildings is finally close enough to properly examine. They are brickwork constructions, simple and unmarked. They could've come out of any random city in England, America, or wherever. Somehow seeing them here, in this new context, in this new time, is instantly off-putting. Like, why is anything so familiar present in this far future? Maybe it's a retro aesthetic, or-

Mei, stop. No questions. Not yet.

I redirect my focus to the conversation at hand.

“Animal morphs? Well, I haven't thought in those terms but, yeah, I guess I do have a fascination with them. And, no, it wasn't exactly a common thing in my time." Some words roll around my head and I shift my jaw, uncertain. Hell. Okay, I guess I have one question to ask after all. “Do you, uh, well... Do you know what a furry is?"

As we approach the brickwork buildings I finally clock the total lack of doors and windows. Their featureless exteriors give them a rather eerie quality. I feel a chill pass through me. I'm suddenly hyper-aware that I am someplace I have never been with two people I know nothing about in a time that has little in common with my own. As much as I genuinely find excitement in my new circumstances, I also find terror.

The three of us come to a stop a few dozen paces away from the buildings. The cat, Eliot, tilts their head.

“What, like, 'furry' as a noun? I don't think so. What's that?"

“It's, well, uh, basically, it's a community - or, it was a community - of people who were enthusiasts and fans of anthropomorphic animals."

“Huh," they say. “And you're one of them?"

“Well, yeah, I mean, I was. I don't know what it would mean to be a furry in this, uh... time." I pause and hum, putting my thoughts in order. “There weren't any real animal morphs back then. At least not on Earth." I scratch the back of my head and frown. “But us furries liked to imagine what they would be like; animal morphs, I mean. We would draw them, write about them, create anthropomorphic personas for ourselves, that sort of thing. Does that make any sense?"

“Wait, time out," Zachary cuts in, waving his paws emphatically. “You actually think we might be aliens?"

“No, no!" I exclaim. “Well, I mean, maybe? I don't know."

Zachary laughs loud and hard, Eliot smiles. I feel extremely self-conscious. I've definitely just said something very stupid.

“We're humans Mei," Eliot tells me, calm and clear. “Just like you. We wanted to be morphs, so we became morphs, it's as simple as that. I suppose, if we were back in your time, we would've been furries too. But, here? We don't need to be. Instead of simply imagining anthropomorphic personas for ourselves, we became them."

“That's..." I shake my head. “You have no idea how incredible that is to hear, and to know that I could actually become my fursona. Excuse me for gushing but, oh my fucking god! This is what every furry dreams of: waking up one day as your sona in a world filled with other anthros. It's... it's... wow." I laugh at my own lexical ineptitude. “Oh and, uh, sorry about the whole 'alien' thing. I guess that was insensitive of me."

“No," Eliot says. “It's not that."

Zach, having recovered from his laughing fit places a paw on my shoulder and I swear I almost climax.

Fuck, Mei, control yourself.

“There are no aliens," he tells me.

“We still haven't found any?"

“No, it's not like that." He shakes his head.

“Then what is it like?"

“There are no aliens."

“What? How can you be so certain?"

Zachary opens his muzzle, but a tap from Eliot stops him from saying whatever he was about to say. The cat takes it on themself to speak up instead. “There's a lot you don't know, Mei. Let's take this one step at a time."

I close my mouth and nod, suppressing my questions again despite them multiplying by the second. Eliot smiles, pleased with my co-operation, then we get back to going.

I follow the anthros' lead, wondering precisely why we're approaching a bunch of brick walls. Then, as if the universe were conspiring to prove my naivety, the bricks on the nearest building move. As I watch, an entire section of the wall unwinds itself, creating an entrance; the future's equivalent of an automatic door, apparently. In spite of all I've seen and heard today, I can barely believe my eyes.

Inside is a wide, bright room, the walls are white and the floor is dark grey. There's a large circular pattern on the floor that takes up a huge portion of the room. Around the edges of the pattern are a variety of symbols and etchings that mean nothing to me. Zach and Eliot lead me to the centre of it where I stand side by side with them. For an instant I wonder whether I'm about to be sacrificed to demons.

“Oh, I should probably let you know before we use this," Eliot says in the same calm, measured tone as ever. “We're standing on a transporter. It will teleport us directly to my home." I freeze. “Are you okay with that?"

After a couple of choked starts I manage to say: “I've never teleported before. I, uh- What's it like?"

“It's easy," Eliot assures me, and for some reason I trust them. Maybe it's because I badly want all of this to be as utopian as it seems to be. Maybe I'm just overwhelmed and accepting my fate, whatever it may be. Maybe I've gone insane. Oh, fuck it.

“Let's go then."

As soon as I'm done speaking everything changes. There's a brief flash of light, then I'm somewhere else entirely. Teleporting felt like...

It felt like nothing at all.

We materialise in a spacious, well-lit living room. A large sofa spans the length of the opposite wall and a couple other smaller ones are tastefully placed to form a loose arch around a sizeable, classy coffee table. I twist to take it all in. Behind me is a massive screen that puts the biggest TV sets I've seen to shame. It covers almost the entire vertical length of the wall, and seems almost to be a part of it. It's more 'home cinema' than 'telly'. The first thing I think is: Eliot must be loaded. Other than that though the room is relatively bare, save for a console built into one of the side walls. I'm not sure precisely what it is, but there's a panel jutting out that looks like it might be an appropriate place for a keyboard and mouse yet - to my eyes - is actually flat and featureless. There's a muted, minimalist sense of style to the place which is somewhat at odds with the comically huge screen behind me.

“Here we are," Eliot says, spreading out their paws, gesturing generally at the room.

“Swanky," I say.

“You think so?" They ask, narrowing their eyes.

“I, well- I suppose I don't actually have a relevant point of context to make that assessment."

Eliot thinks, then nods.

Zachary saunters over to one of the smaller couches and collapses onto it. He puts a paw under his head, propping himself up with an elbow and looking at me. Eliot sits in the middle of the largest sofa and spreads their arms across the backrest.

“Get comfy," Zachary tells me, nodding toward the other smaller sofa opposite.

I make my way to it gingerly and sit, legs together, hands crossed on my lap.

“So," Eliot says. “Where should we start?"

I don't hesitate.

“I asked before, I'll ask again. What the hell is the Cube?"