Memory Transcription Subject: Chiri, Gojid Refugee

Date [standardized human time]: November 1, 2136

Well, that was a mistake.

Not the love-making. That was a fantastic idea, and one I planned to indulge in again in the near future, often and enthusiastically.

But when the waves of euphoria faded, and my breath came back to me, a couple of logistical issues presented themselves. We were still on a beach in winter, a non-negligible walk from home. There was sand very nearly everywhere, and it was sticking to us because we were both now quite damp, because apparently humans were one of the handful of species that thermoregulated by sweating. Not a dealbreaker, but not expected, either. It was just something I’d need to adjust to, going forward. Poor David had the worst of it, frankly. Damp and furless, he was shaking from the cold as he tried to shimmy back into his clothes.

I hugged him again just because I could now. I think he appreciated the warmth as much as the affection. “You and me, buddy,” he said, smiling, as he hugged me back. “We’ll take on the world.”

“Glad to hear it,” I said, nuzzling his face. “I needed someone who shares my ambitions.”

“Hm?” said David, still too cold to pull away. “You haven’t talked about your ambitions much. The only ambitions you’ve really brought up were trying meat, and maybe hunting your own. I guess you mentioned something about a distillery?”

I nodded, which was indifferentiable from further nuzzling. “Yeah, I had a hobby interest in making new flavors of alcohol, but I wanted to make a business out of it. Original plan involved the family winery and infused spirits. New plan… I was thinking about maybe selling canned cocktails once I learn how to make them?” I pulled back just enough to look at David. “That’s not an issue, is it? Having a side hustle while I’m still working for the restaurant?”

David snorted. “It’s no worse than sleeping with your boss,” he said, chuckling. “Honestly, though, if you get a production run going, you could probably even sell them at the restaurant. I’d have to check if our liquor license covers ‘one more for the road’, though. I was planning to run for city council once the restaurant’s stable, too, so maybe I can try to broaden the ordinance.”

“Nyeheheh. Abusing political power to benefit your own private enterprise. The world will quake at our nefarious corruption,” I teased. I kissed him again, just for the fun of it, now that I knew the technique. “I’m getting hungry, though,” I said, “and I think we both need showers.”

David took a deep breath and stood. He was only a head taller than me, but the lankier human proportions made him look even taller still, compared to a Gojid. “Agreed. Shall we begin our journey?”

He held out his hand to help me up, and I took it in my paw gladly. It was pretty dark already, but we could make out the outlines of the ruined amusement park well enough to navigate through it. The weird sign with the looming toothy human face was still there, leering at me. In approval, now, maybe?

“Hey, what’s with that guy up there anyway?” I asked, pointing at the sign. Maybe David could just put the issue to rest.

David looked where I was pointing. “Who, Tillie? He’s just the mascot for the park. I think he’s supposed to be grinning with joy, but the artist was, uhh… I don’t wanna say he was bad at his job, but it was a very… bold design choice.” He laughed. “Kinda iconic, though. It’s not really Luna Park without Tillie.”

“Luna Park,” I repeated idly, looking around at the ruins we picked our way through. “What was it like?”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Oh, it’s been there forever, so all the amusement park staples. Bumper cars, roller coasters, fairway games… I liked the log flume, personally. Like a big water slide.” He smiled idly, and nodded towards a giant wheel with a visibly damaged quarter, bits of the metal struts mangled and jutting out at an angle where something had struck it. Probably bits of a building during the bombing. “The ferris wheel was pretty romantic, though, especially at night.”

“Oh?” I said, a smile blooming as I looked at it. “How so?”

“Little private cabin for two, and it’d slowly bring you up into the sky for the views. You could see for miles.” David smiled sadly. “Well, we can always picnic on the building’s roof, at least.”

“Sounds nice,” I said, staring at everything and nothing. There was something here, something about the unabashed joy of being reckless and free--my Federation model translator chip’s attempts to downplay and censor ‘bumper cars’ fought viciously with how awesome crashing cars together on purpose sounded--but I couldn’t see the details. Not clearly yet. Not through all the little shattered bits of broken dreams.

The Cropsey Carnival loomed as we approached, towering above the rubble even at a mere six stories. Such a little building had no business being among the tallest left standing. A couple of the construction cranes in the distance looked taller, frankly, so at least the city was starting to heal. Still, I glanced back towards where we’d left the boat, anxiously.

“I already brought the perishables in,” said David, smiling. “We can get the dry and canned goods tomorrow. I promised you burgers, right?”

I shrugged. “Sounds right? I’m still learning all the local food names. What’s in it?” We walked up to the side door that just went straight into the residential stairwell. David had mentioned only renting the top and bottom two floors until recently. Presumably, the people who’d rented the apartments on the middle two floors didn’t want to walk through a restaurant every time they went out for groceries. I wonder if they’d survived the bombings, too?

“Well, the way I make it, a burger is about a half pound of coarsely ground beef, formed into the shape of a flat puck, then pan-seared,” David started while fussing around for his keys. “Then I add a bunch of condiments and toppings depending on my mood, usually some cheese or some pickles or the like, and then I slice a fluffy bread bun horizontally, toast it, and then put everything else in the middle.” He unlocked the door, and we started walking in, up the endless stairs. “Now, most decent chefs are going to put a lot of effort into the quality and blend of the meat they use, which isn’t a bad idea, but the funny thing about a burger is how much each ingredient really contributes to the whole. It’s one of the few meat dishes where you can actually kinda get away with lower-quality meat--or a vegan meat replacement--if the rest of it’s dressed well.”

I nodded, breathing heavily, as I tried to keep up with him. I held my paws out in front of me, trying to visualize holding it. Again, fluffy bread buns weren’t really the style in my corner of the Cradle, but I knew of them. And then you stack it up a little higher with--

I tripped on a step.

“Ow! Fuck!” I swore, slowly climbing back upright. At least I’d already had my paws out. Landing snout-first hurt way worse.

“Shit, you okay?” said David, already backtracked back down to me.

“Yeah…” I groaned. “Stupid stairs are too fucking tall.”

“Yeah, sorry. It’s not much further,” David said, trying to help me up.

I shook my head. “No, not the staircase, I mean the individual steps.” I pointed. “They’re taller than I’m used to. Steeper. Gojid legs aren’t as long as yours. We’d build them with a bit of a shallower slope on the Cradle.”

David blinked. “Oh, shit, I never even considered that. Yeah, we probably don’t have the same building codes, do we?”

“Suppose not,” I sighed, and got back to climbing. We really were almost back to David’s loft. “I’ll get used to it eventually.”

David held the door open for me as we entered our home together. “Yeah… Been a long fuckin’ day, hasn’t it?” He chuckled. “Let’s wash up before dinner. You want the first shower, or…?”

A mischievous grin started to bloom on my face. “Say, that loofa you got for me… did you bring that up from the boat, or…?”

David blanched. “Shit, no, I, uh… wasn’t sure if you were coming back. Sorry. I can run back down and grab it?”

I put my hands behind my head, nonchalantly, which also served to demonstrate how much shorter they were than a human’s. “Gosh, you know, I just can’t really reach my own back, is the thing?” I pointed out, smirking. “So I’m either going to need a tool, or I’m going to need someone else to wash it for me.”

David laughed, but he got the hint. “Gonna be tricky to not lose a hand in there, but I’m happy to give washing your back a shot. After you?”

So anyway, we were halfway to ravenous by the time we finished in the shower.