Avakian awoke to the sounds of birdsong. Birdsong being a generous term, the birds actually lacked much in the way of musical finesse, and as such it could be better described as 'birdnoises'.

He sat up from his reclining chair, before glancing around the room to find Andy. The bespectacled man was seated at an oaken table, with a mug of coffee, and was tapping away at some kind of device that looked like a cross between a radio and an old-world typewriter.

"Ah, Avakian, good morning!" he said happily, "found that pod of yours last night, I came back but didn't want to wake ya. Get yourself a shower; bathroom is round the corner on the right, then we can discuss your predicament over a brew."

"Ah, thanks," Avakian said awkwardly, "I might take a while to figure out the lay of things."

"Mhm, yell if you need anything."

Avakian ambled his way to the bathroom, to find a surprisingly well-furnished room, at least for a surposed log cabin. The first thing he took note of was the half-length mirror in the corner, something Avakian was interested in as he had never actually seen his reflection.

He had some idea of what he looked like from his intuited proprioception, but his idea had shifted somewhat after his meeting with Andy. He wondered if he looked young or old, grotesque or attractive. He found it hard to care either way, as he assumed others would judge mostly based on the properties of his mind rather than his physical form.

The man, or boy, Avakian was not sure which, that stood before him was quite unlike anything he was expecting. Where Andy's face was wrinkled and slightly lopsided, his was very geometrically pleasing, completely symmetrical and angular, just as Avakian liked things to be. His skin was incredibly pale to the point of translucency, with a thick mop of similiarly coloured hair. He would've thought himself albino if not for his eyes, which were coloured a ultrabright electric-blue, with a complete lack of any iris.

Overall he could pass for a human at a distance, but upon further scrutiny would probably not be recognised completely as such. Avakian thought his features similar to some of the creatures described in the novel he was reading, namely the imp or elf, both humanlike but distinct in their own ways. He remembered that Andy claimed to be an educator on social dynamics, and made a mental note to ask him what species he might pass as.

---

Avakian exited the shower humming a merry tune, having finally mastered the arcane arts required to operate the tap. He examined the remains of his wound, the large scab covering it had fallen away in the shower, to find it had all but healed. He dried and clothed himself before meandering back to the common room; Andy had seemingly given up on his typewriter-esque device and was now cooking over a stove. He seated himself at the table and mentally prepared the barrage of questions he wanted to ask the man.

"I have a few questions if you don't mind." Avakian intoned, "Mostly pertaining to the generalities of the world around us but some a bit more specific."

"Of course." Andy replied, stepping over to the table with two plates of toast and some kind of fried vegetable. "I'm quite curious as to what questions you have, several things about you are a bit inconsistent."

"Might you be inclined to elaborate?"

"Well you seem utterly ignorant on many topics, but incredibly educated on others." He confessed. "For instance I noticed you didn't know what a bear looked like, yet you speak Aeuropian like a scholar would."

"Is that the language we are talking in?" Questioned Avakian.

Stolen story; please report.

"Yep; most speak a sort of bastardised version of it, you speak it like an academic would write it."

"I will admit I'm unsure as to why that is." He confessed, "My knowledge appears to have vast gaps in it, and obviously I don't know where those gaps lie. You don't know what you don't know unfortunately."

"Do you think this could be the result of the crash? Some kind of amnesia perhaps?"

Avakian clicked his tongue for a few moments while he considered this, before shaking his head.

"No." He said resolutely, "I have memories of before the crash, I knew just as little then."

"A mystery then." Chuckled Andy, "Anyhow, sorry for waylaying you; I'm sure you have your questions."

"What species are you, and what species am I?"

Andy smiled at this, and awkwardly started scratching the back of his head. Avakian sensed he had touched upon an interesting topic, and now was even more curious.

"You certainly know how to lead with the hardest." He said, hesitating slightly before continuing. "I am what is known as baseline human, meaning I am a human whose cells have not yet adapted to the void. What this means is the closer I get to large concentrations of dark matter, my chances of suffering twisting-sickness go from maybe, to probably, to definitely."

"And me?" Quizzed Avakian.

"I both do not know and cannot say. I don't know because I do not possess any means of testing your baseline, and I can't say because it is not my right to."

"Not your right to?" He echoed.

"Mhm, there are so many different sentient species living on the Manifold, that we stopped trying to categorise all of them long ago. Instead this fold simply allows any given individual to choose whatever species they identify with most, although not all folds are as liberal with their ideals."

"So I could call myself Avakian the Avakian, or Avakian the Gray?"

"I see no reason why not." Andy shrugged. "If you visit the city you'll be sure to bump into folk who identify as all manner of species. Just try not to laugh at any of the names; some are understandably a mite touchy. I had an old colleague who identified as a 'Xorgling' and would pick a fight with anyone who even cracked a smile when he mentioned it."

"What's a Xorgling?"

Andy laughed.

"I have no idea kid, you'll have to ask him if you meet him, just make sure to do it with a straight face."

---

Avakian fired off questions for a good several hours until noon, patching up some of the gaps in his mind. They discussed every topic from mathematics to dental hygiene, to philosophy and relationships. Most topics Andy managed to impart at least some wisdom on, however some topics he could not discuss at length, citing a lack of knowledge or inability to teach the subject properly. The shape of the World they lived on was one such matter Avakian was greatly interested in, and he was disappointed Andy had little to say on it.

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? That doesn't make sense!" Declared Avakian, "You live here, how would you not know the shape of the world you live on?"

"It's a little more complicated than that." Sighed Andy, "The World we live in is called 'The Manifold World' or simply 'The Manifold', its shape is possibly the most debated discussion in history. You could ask an astrophysicist, a geographer, and an erebologist and probably get wildly different answers."

"Surely someone knows for certain though."

"That's entirely the problem, many people claim to, and they all disagree with each other. One of the few things we do know about the Manifold is it is composed of countless 'folds', thin strips of land varying in depth and width. Actually hold on a second, I have something that might help."

Andy shot up gracelessly and disappeared round a corner, Avakian heard the thump of boxes moving around before he saw the man returning, holding some kind of large sculpture. The Avant-Garde abomination looked to be about a cubic foot in size, and was constructed mostly out of pasta and glue, with pieces of wood supporting it. He set the art piece on the table before looking at Avakian expectantly.

Avakian now saw what Andy meant when he said it was 'complicated'; the structure of the world they lived on was enough to send a cartographer to an insane asylum. It looked like someone had thrown a bowl of spaghetti in the air, before freezing it as it made its zenith.

"My daughter made this for a school project over a decade ago, now obviously it isn't entirely accurate, but you see my point."

"I do indeed." Said Avakian, twirling an imaginary beard, his interest most definitely piqued.