EvilCat · Forest Friends (pilot) [voice by 11.ai]

It was a lucky day for the loner: he found a nest with an egg! The egg was just lying there, in a bed of moss, completely unattended. An easy target, totally legal to claim. He didn’t care what some absentee junglefowl would think of the empty nest. He carefully picked up the egg between his jaws and took it away, knowing not to break the shell to preserve its full value.

But even just bringing an egg to the closest intake couldn’t be uncomplicated for him. Nothing was anymore. Halfway, he was joined by another wolf.

“Hey,” that wolf said. He was a stranger with the coat of murky brown and smelling of a long plain trek. His voicebox was brown on a black collar—clearly not from around here.

“Hey,” Hash said. His voicebox was dark-blue on a yellow collar, and of a different shape. Reckless! The stranger shouldn’t have left his original forest. If his voicebox would break, there would be no repairing it here. And nobody who cared to repair it.

“Take me to the nearest intake? I see you’re going there anyway,” the stranger said.

Hash wasn’t happy about the distraction, and he felt his dark hackles rise. He could take the egg on a day’s journey and not break it with his teeth, but talking to the stranger made him want to growl and snap. They loped in silence for a little while, as Hash was counting back from 4.

One forepaw, two forepaws, one hindleg, two hindlegs…

“The intake’s encoded. You need a login,” he finally answered.

“Ah, sorry for that, I’m Willy!” the stranger introduced himself. He proceeded to look at Hash expectantly. This was confusing.

Ah, he thinks his previous login, ‘Willy’, would work here! it finally occurred to Hash. The loner felt the strange tingling in his eyes, a need to roll them, recurring in situations like this. But of course wolves couldn’t do that. He once saw an orangutan do it. It was validating.

image [https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/4e2c64fe-5fa7-4e98-bb61-dafc8f27c54c/dh0evt3-371a000c-c6bd-4a31-8d0e-c3338f9eb155.png?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzRlMmM2NGZlLTVmYTctNGU5OC1iYjYxLWRhZmM4ZjI3YzU0Y1wvZGgwZXZ0My0zNzFhMDAwYy1jNmJkLTRhMzEtOGQwZS1jMzMzOGY5ZWIxNTUucG5nIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.Zo-FuhcdgygspJYvl_viLSI1J9kDKOcrBncmMkH0www]

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They were nearing the sole obstacle on the way to the local intake: the lake. The trail ended on the shore at a gap in the reeds. Willy looked in both directions and located the interface on a small pillar to the left of the trail. At least he knew to do that. He then pawed the screen. Then pawed it again. To no effect.

“Um, it’s voice activated . . .” Hash said in a rising tone of a question that really wasn’t. He decided to put the new guy out of his misery and commanded: “Okay Ef-Ef-Control, it’s Ef-Ef-Seven-Ampersand-Hash here, a passage for me and one more Friend.”

“Identity confirmed,” a disembodied voice echoed from the interface. “The passage is open for two Friends.”

The murky water of the lake rushed to the sides of a rising bridge. The structure was smooth and buckled to prevent mud and silt from clinging to it. But some still got caught on the railing supports. A catfish slid down from the bridge’s midpoint into the lake, looking daggers at the wolves, but not having said anything. Whatever it wanted to say, it probably got censored by its voicebox.

“It had no business occupying the communal infrastructure anyway,” Hash commented, which his voicebox sounded in full volume.

“So, Hash . . . You said we’re friends?” Willy asked suddenly.

“You’re going to be one if you plan to stay,” Hash explained as he stepped carefully onto the bridge. Just like mud, he had trouble clinging to it. The trick was to walk exactly down the middle while watching your own center of mass very carefully. Well, that’s if you wanted to look dignified: another way was to lean on the railing. Some of it had algae.

That’s why most Friends who didn’t live in or by the lake used another intake farther away, where the forest began its ascent up the mountain. But Hash preferred this one. He hated standing in lines.

“Since we’re friends, can you set me up with a farm here?” Willy asked, testing his forepaw on the bridge.

That request shocked Hash right out of his balance, and he slid sideways only to bump into the railing. The algae immediately stuck to his dark coat, tinting it green. The egg was still perfect and intact between his jaws.

“You’re a farmer?!” he could finally say, incredulous.

“We were getting by,” Willy said, which was all the answer Hash needed.

“Uh-huh . . . Go on . . .“ he nodded.

“Well, after an unlucky year there were no crops anymore,” Willy admitted, “but we learned a lot. Next time--”

“What kind of a data-starved forest are you from?” Hash interrupted. “Farms don’t work. There’s a whole chapter on that in History.”

“You don’t understand,” Willy became agitated. They were making quick progress over the bridge, now that they had no dignity to lose and could lean on the railing for balance. “The Precursors farmed all the time. They had farms bigger than forests.”

“Farms don’t work anymore,” Hash corrected, putting his paws on the firm ground of the island. The huge silvery funnel of the intake comprised most of the island. A terminal stood next to it. The screen turned on once the wolves approached.

“This is the only way that works,” Hash said, dropping the egg into the intake. He had no idea why it mattered that the egg was intact—surely it broke when it hit whatever processing machinery waited down there.

A disembodied voice spoke:

“The contribution from Ef-Ef-Seven-Ampersand-Hash accepted. Thank you, Friend. Your bonus for a viable egg is 14 offsets. Your total balance is 10 offsets. The shop is unlocked.”

Hash used his nose to navigate to Organics and activated the three-month protein subscription.

Willy watched all of it.

“So yours doesn't have fertilizers too, huh,” he noted.

“What?” Hash turned to the newcomer, jolted from his daydream of next protein delivery.

“Doesn’t matter,” Willy sighed, disappointed. “I bet your gardening section is just like ours. It was so hard handling those awkward tools. Sometimes I think that the Precursors weren’t wolves at all.”