Chapter 5

“Why do you look so scared to see me? Do I have tomato sauce on my lips again or something?”
It’s a tiger. His body is mostly pure white, with a series of black spike-shaped triangles and thick stripes making themselves known along his whole body and thin yet long tail. The only parts that aren’t marked by black are his hands, feet, and top half of his head. He has a river of black running up his stomach, through his chest, along his neck, around the bottom half of his face, and all over his ears’ backsides. A pair of green shorts sits around his thighs, a red leather Connecto-Panel wraps itself around his left forearm, a set of black and green hover boots snuggles against his feet, and his black backpack lays next to him on the seat. He contemplates me with bright orange eyes. “If I do, then please tell me. Sometimes I forget to look in the mirror before school.” My heart immediately sighs with relief and slows down a normal beat. It’s just Ziaxmuth. I lean back in my chair, trying to settle my nerves. “No, you don’t, as far as I can see. I’m just...a bit razzled right now.”
“That sounds like a fancy word. Why razzled?” He looks at me quizzically, like a curious little girl. I crack a smirk, glad that I was wrong. “Well, to put it simply, I met this new person today in your home Core. He uh, wasn’t very nice, I guess.” “Did he try to do something to you? Did he try to sell you anything? If he did, it better not have been weed. That’s just as lame as accidentally peeing on someone’s sub-dog. Which I definitely know nothing about.” “Why would he sell me weed?” I say through a laugh. “Cuz it’s like a game of inversion. People who are cracked out have a mind that tells them it’s okay to sell weird stuff to people. Like kids. Remember when I almost bought an ‘unreleased video game’ from some hyena?” “You mean when you did buy it from that person?” “That’s beside the point. The point is, it’s not fun. Some people have bad ways of making money.” “Yeah, I know. But I don’t think that this was that. I think it was more like… someone who can’t stop themselves from thinking so much.” The train gently floats up and down, almost hypnotically, as we talk. It’s sort of comforting. “I mean, do any of us know how to control that?” “Uh, maybe?” I say awkwardly. Ziaxmuth shrugs. “I dunno, I’m just asking. I saw this video on UsTube the other day that made me think about that sort of stuff again. It’s weird.” “I know what you mean.” I look at my Panel screen again. “ I just… He was saying some weird things. Things about Drift and me and him, and wanting to do something with society.”
“That’s a laugh. What does he want to do? Remake all of the eleven Cores into his own image or something? That sounds as reasonable as trying to replace us with robots.” “Yeah, except he didn’t seem like he was joking. He said he wants to remove our consciences.”
“Entirely?” “Should we be talking about this?” “You mean because we’re on a public train?” Ziaxmuth sticks his head above his chair and glances around, making me a little bit anxious. He sits back down with a satisfied nod. “ No one cares. They probably think we’re talking about a game or that we're just idiot teenagers.” Sometimes I wish I was only doing both. “Well, alright.” I look out the window, wondering if Clous is still watching me somehow. Or Drift. “ Is she in trouble now?” “Who, Drift?” Ziax taps on his Panel. “ I doubt it. Unless this dragon person is some murderer or rapist or something, is he?” “ I...don’t know.” I hate that phrase. Why can’t I know? “Fair enough. I still think what he was talking about is a truckload of sub-porcupine poop, but if anything does happen, then you know what to do. We’re scouts, so we know how to fight bad people just as a sub-chameleon knows how to change its colors.” “Yeah, but still. She’s so close to me that it would make sense for her to be in danger. If he wants to threaten me.” “She can handle herself as well as a can of deodorant against a smelly armpit, though. And besides, it doesn’t change the idea of what I said.” “ I guess, but still…” I guess my ears droop or something because Ziax looks straight at me. “ Hey. Don’t stress it. You can deal with it; it’s just one person. How much can he really do?” More than we might expect. That’s what I’m afraid of. “I guess so…” “He might not even come back. You know how some people are. They try something, realize they don’t like it, and then bail. I’ve done that a few times. Happens like a pendulum swing.”
“Yeah, you’ve done that with schoolwork.” “That’s just called strategizing. It’s what allowed me to realize my love for soccer.” Then, he sees something on his Panel that makes him laugh. “ Dude, I just saw this meme. It brings up a good question.” “Yeah?” I’m still glaring out the window, seeing the brownish-grey trees and dark green valleys rush by and the orange-red sun falling towards the pink horizon. “Why do kangaroo Furman not have pouches?” “I have no clue. Might have something to do with how we were created,” I say before I release a yawn. “Do you believe the idea that the old U.S gov. wanted to exclude it from their DNA fusion-whatever ‘cause they were too scared to mess it up?”
“I mean, I wouldn’t say the idea is a bad one. Kangaroos were one of the first species they tried so that they might have been scared.” Ziax begins to say something, but I tell him that I’m going to nap for a bit. He lets me doze off.

About ten minutes later, the train stops at Core Cylon, and the doors open. People rise and wait to get out. I do the same, shuffling my backpack and flowers onto my being. Ziax stays put. “ You staying?” I see a spot to get in line. If I don’t move now, I’ll be waiting for a while. “Ye. I’m heading to Core Slypasene to get something for Ninz’s b-day. I’m actually pretty tired since I just got off of a scout mission about an hour ago, but I gotta. It’s for her.” I say that’s fair, but he should also take care of himself. He says he will. We say goodbye, and I exit the train with everyone else.

I’m surprised by the joy I feel about the conversation with Ziax. As I dash through the streets towards the Cylon living building, I run through our talk in my head. I was so caught up in Clous’ words and worrying about what he meant by all of it that I didn’t understand how much I needed to talk to someone. I had a hard time letting Drift know about it, and I still don’t think I want to tell my parents. They would just sigh in disbelief and tell me that “ I’m a scout; I can handle it.” They don’t say it to be mean or dismissive; they just tend to have a lot of trust in me. So much so to where it feels like I’m without their help sometimes, even when I need it. It’s not all the time, but it can feel like it.

Regardless, the realization gives me a sense of warmth. His words of reassurance. Even though I still feel the fear, I can also feel the bits of comfort that came from hearing him with his own voice. It wasn’t a text but a real voice. It took me a long while to realize there’s a difference between a text and a voice. It’s scary how big the difference is. Besides Clous, one other thing was sticking in my mind as I left the train. Ninzurith’s party. It seems like, besides Drift and I, both Ilius and Ziaxmuth will be there. I haven’t thought about this all day, but I’m a little worried about the party. I feel like it will bring out the worst in Ninzurith herself, and therefore create an atmosphere among her, Ziax, and Iggy that won’t be so easy to clear. Of course, I’m only judging this idea from brief moments in the recent past, but still. Maybe I’m just overthinking again.

Once I reach the living building, I step off the street and walk along the cement path towards the doors. I pass by a pair of two black wolves sitting on a bench, holding each other in an embrace. I feel an odd wave of sadness pass by me as I glance at that couple. I know why but the reason still scares me. I choose not to think about it for now as I enter the building. I head past the dozens of waiting tables and the two lines of people formed in front of the main desks. A green and white and a red and blue pair of coyotes with grey employee uniforms and tight caps discuss house floor numbers and bathroom locations with the visitors. There are bathrooms on every floor of a living building, two at each end, just before the four elevators that take you up to any floor. That’s hundreds of bathrooms that are needed to cover all of the five hundred floors. We pretty much live in skyscrapers, as far as I’m concerned. Two hundred house floors for each of five hundred floors. And that’s just for this one building. There are also living facilities, hotels, aid shelters, and in the Outer Rings only, the neighborhoods within every Core. This society might as well have been made during America’s Industrial Era. I wonder what that was like?

Some minutes later, and the elevator door opens onto floor number thirty-four. Three green, blue, and white kangaroo girls exit along with me, talking and laughing as they walk down past my house door. This makes me think of a time when I was with Harlite and Curmolae, and we all went back to my place after school to play games. It was the last day of school, and we wanted to party. We ended up getting yelled at by my mom because we were ‘too loud.’ I wonder what they’re doing right now. I consider texting them, but I suppose it doesn’t matter. I’ll do it later. I stand in front of the brown wood door with the golden knob. A green and red Christmas rug lies happily in front of it on the grey-ish black rugged ground. Why do my parents insist on keeping this rug out here? It’s not Christmas yet; it’s almost summer. I choose not to argue since a part of me does think it looks nice. It gives nice vibes, I guess. I pull out my keys from my backpack and shove them into the lock, turning it until it clicks. Sometimes I don’t even notice that little click. It’s so faint that you could easily miss it if you aren’t paying attention. I slide open the door and slip into my house quietly. Why? I have no idea; I just like to act silently sometimes. I occasionally end up scaring my parents because of it. They can be so focused on something that they don’t notice their own son. It’s sorta funny. I close the door and lock it, putting the key away in my backpack. “Hello, my son! How was your day today?” Talk about scaring people. My dad’s sudden voice makes me jump, frightening both of us. “Did I scare you? Sorry!” I turn around and face him, letting out an embarrassed laugh. My dad is entirely light blue. He has caramel eyes, and his whole posture suggests that he is ready to converse with just about anyone. Right now, he’s sitting on the living room couch while reading something on an iPad.
“Hi, Dad. My day’s been alright. The school was the usual, I guess, and I did go to the Garden with Drift.” “Oh, good! How was that?” I drop my backpack down next to him. I smell something. Food. “It was a bit more dramatic than I thought it would be. Drift was, well, dealing with something that happened between her and one of her friends. You remember Katherine, right?” My dad nods. “Yeah, her. She uh, doesn’t wanna be with Drift anymore. Basically.”
“Oh.” My dad puts on an overly pouty face.
“That’s unfortunate. I never really liked her anyway. Is she okay?”
“I think. But that wasn’t the worst thing.” “Worst thing?!” My mom’s voice calls from the dining area.
“What ‘worst thing’? Similic! Can you come here and start eating, please?” My dad chuckles. “Better listen to Mommy. She made chicken biscuits for all of us.” “Oh really? Yay.” I love chicken biscuits. I head through the small white kitchen and into the brown dining area. A large mahogany table has three placemats on it were bowls of the biscuits, some filled juice glasses, and silverware sit in waiting. My mom is already eating, and she’s staring at me as something horrible has just happened. I sit down, and Dad joins us. Mom continues to make me uncomfortable with her questioning glare. She is entirely white with dark yellow eyes that blaze with passionate love. Her posture suggests that she’s ready to complain about the world. Both of my parents have absolutely nothing on, in terms of regular clothing, like me. We still look proper, of course, since we have fur to cover up our privates.
“So, Sweetheart, how was your day?” Mom asks me.

I tell them most of what happened, leaving out a good deal of my interaction with Clous. My parents say exactly what I expect them to. It’s not a bad thing when they do this, but it’s not exactly helpful either. At the end of my speech, I remember that I still have my pack of Violish flowers and hold them up. My mom sighs.
“Similic! Have you had those this whole time? They might as well be dead by now! Give them to me!” She quickly snatches the flowers out of my hand and throws them into a new vase with fresh water. “The vase they come in has water already,” I say. “Yes, but that water and those vases are all filthy, and it’s not even something that they should use! Not in public! Not from those disgusting carts that they leave sitting in the sun all day.” Mom points at me. “You should’ve said something about the flowers sooner, Similic. They could have been dead already, without fresh water.” “He was just focused on talking to us, is all,” Dad says. Mom scoffs at him. “He’s smart enough to do more than one thing at a time.” She returns to the table. “Now eat your biscuits. Both of you.”

Later on, at around twenty hundred, I log out of my school’s app and stand up from the desk in my room. I stretch and yawn, letting out a slight squeak sound as I turn to go towards my drawer so I can grab my PJs. My room is relatively small. There’s a twin-sized white and black striped bed, with a brown desk to its right and a nightstand and a dresser to its left. Opposite the bed is a large shelf that contains dozens of miniature figurines and books on every row. It’s my personal life collection of stuff. On top of the nightstand sits my diary and a small plushie of a sub-tiger, its yellow eyes staring off into the infinity. I like this plush, as it reminds me that there are nice things in this world. Is that a big statement? I don’t know, but either way, looking at him makes me happy. It’s done so ever since I ordered him online two years ago. I did it back when I was in a slight depression over school and self-worth. That was a wormhole of emotions. Am I out of that depression nowadays? I’d say so. Mostly.

Once I have on a pair of blue pajamas with white trains speckled all over them, I sit down at my desk and turn on my Connecto-Panel. A medium-sized laptop sits plainly in front of me. I don’t ever use this thing, but my dad bought it for me for my last birthday anyways. He said it’s a piece of history, and it’s a cool thing to have it. I’ve never said that I care about being ‘cool,’ but I guess it’s neat to use it now and then. Of course, it’s been upgraded to have the same features as a Connecto-Panel, like any newly produced version of an old human product, but I still prefer my Panel. I like the personal feeling it gives me.

I log onto Comcord before entering the Panel’s settings screen. From there, I activate the Screen Separation feature, which allows the holoscreen to form. As soon as I tap on the button, a holographic image shoots out from small circles ingrained into the sides of the Panel. The new screen, enlarged to the medium size I set, shows my Panel’s home screen as it floats like a patient pet in front of my face. I act like I’m holding it, letting its microscopic sensors know that I want to move it. I center it to a comfortable spot and look towards the normal Panel again. This time I tap on a button in the settings screen that shoots out a projection of an average black keyboard. I do the same as I did to the holoscreen, moving the Holokeyboard to a nice spot to use it effectively. This technology really is more impressive than I often realize. I think some monkeys came up with this a few decades ago. It’s a norm nowadays, and I can’t imagine my life without it.

I go back to Comcord and text Curmolae, seeing if he still wants to play. My waiting is interrupted by a text. It’s a picture accompanied by a caption. “ I mentioned my scout mission earlier, so I wanted to show you this.” It’s an image of four tigers clad in red and orange futuristic styled battle suits that cover their entire body standing in the presence of a tall statue. The statue is of one of the original founders of Core Marcelin, a woman named Marcy. It took me too long to figure out the relationship of that name to the name of the Core when I first learned the fact. “We caught three tiger girls trying to dig out the statue and haul it away somewhere. They had a whole shebang complete with a moving truck and shovels. They seemed as enthusiastic about it as a squad of builders who’d recently gotten a contract that has prevailing wage. How would they get away with that in public? They had to be taken care of, so my squad did the job. It was as easy as it is for a sub-tiger to eat a sub-hare. ”
LOL. Good job, Ziax! It seems that some people don’t like Marcy.”
“That’s their problem. My grandma’s named Marcy, so I take ‘offense’ to that if it’s true.”
“Who knows.” “I honestly don’t want to. But hey, dude?” “Yeah?” “I’m not so sure if I should come to the party.” “Why?” “Well, I dunno if I really matter that much to Ninzurith. She hasn’t been talking to me much lately, and I can’t decide if it’s my fault or not.”
“I doubt that it is. You know she can get really emotional over the small stuff. Should I talk to her?”
“No, it’s fine. I might just be worrying too much, but I still can’t get the idea out of my head. It’s like a goddamn nail stuck in my brain.”
“I get what you mean. I’m sure it’s fine, though, dude!” Silence. I begin to read a chat conversation on HumanMundio. “Do you think I’m weird?” Ziax asks. “Not in a bad way. Why?”
“I don’t wanna act weird during the party. That might be what the issue is. With Ninzurith.”
“But weird is good.”
“I’d usually agree, but I’ve noticed that it doesn’t always work out. Like at school, when they laugh at me for what I say.” “You mean in terms of the analogies you make? Who laughs at you?” He doesn’t respond for a minute or so. I feel a bit of agitation rise within me. I can never stop the urge to want to know.
“I gotta go, bro. Mom’s making me sleep now. Cya later. I might tell you later, I dunno.”
“That’s fine. Have a nice night, Ziax.” I sigh in annoyance. Why do they always leave when I want to know more? I feel like it happens too often. I just want to talk, maybe try and make them feel better. Why is it so hard at times?

I spend the next hour and a half playing Paths of Infinity with Curmolae. We use Comcord’s voice chat to talk, and we join the same team to fight galactic monsters and grind for universal loot. POF is a great game if you have a lot of time to waste and some friends with you. It’s an RPG where you level up your character and play missions repeatedly to get cool weapons and armor pieces throughout co-op and competitive game modes. I only really bother with this title if I have someone to play with, like Curmolae. He’s a bit shy when he plays, but he’s so nice to talk to that I don’t care about how many times he dies during a strike mission. He’s the kind of person you can practically say anything to, and he won’t judge you.

Sure, sometimes he goes silent when I say something embarrassing, but he always comes around and keeps up the encouragement. I tend to have this issue where I feel like he’s secretly judging me for when I talk too much and say weird things, but I don’t know if those are accurate thoughts or not. He tends to say that he doesn’t judge, but I worry that he’s lying. Is he? I don’t think so, I guess. He tells me things that he claims to tell no one else. Things about his romantic feelings towards others and things that he likes and dislikes about his family or a game or a website or whatever it is. It’s calming to hear him speak his opinion, with how gentle he is. He never wants to hurt anyone, and I love that about him. I tend to say that he’s like a doll. Often the feeling of wanting to cuddle him roars through me, and it’s hard to control. What does it mean?

During our gaming session, I open-up about Clous. He doesn’t say too much, as we’re both pretty tired at this point, but he does say that “ he’ll probably pass by. If not, then you can deal with him. Don’t let him get a hold of you; it’s just a random occurrence.” I want to believe him. Hearing his words makes me feel less stressed about it, at least. I think. I text Drift, but she doesn’t respond. She’s probably either drawing or doing her own homework. I guess I’ll just tell her later about it, then. Will she believe me? I mean, given that she was there for the first encounter, I don’t see why not. It’s getting pretty late. I should get to sleep. I say goodnight to Curmolae after finishing up a final round of PvP and shut off my Panel.

The immediate silence slaps me in the face. I hate how lonely I feel after getting away from a fun time with my friends. Should I go back to them? I want to, but I can’t. I need sleep. I’d like to exist without sleep, but that isn’t possible yet. Maybe a government has some sort of a way to do it, but they’re too afraid to release the data. Some say the Cylon federal government has a secret area where ‘crazy’ experiments are kept. Called Area 51, it’s said to be an ancient human military storage facility. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were right. Do I care? Not too much, though I get nervous when I consider it for too long. It’s hard to decide if something like that really affects me or not. I guess I can’t know until it happens.

I pull the bedsheet over me, roll onto my side, and close my eyes. Thoughts of everything swirl viciously around in my head. Her crying and his gauntlet. Ziaxmuth on the train and Curmolae after school. Life is weird, and so I love it. Did I even help Drift back at the Garden? Maybe I did somewhat; I don’t know. Hopefully, I did. Was what happened with Clous real? I think it was, but I can’t really tell for sure. Every fiber of my being never wants to see him again. Will I? Hopefully not.

A half-hour later, my conscience slips into the dream world.