Chapter 7 Pets
Maggie walked merrily down the street. Or at least as much as a deific cosmic entity could be ‘merry.’ Joe was, for once, not by her side. Apparently he, Benny, Cullen, and two more of their mutual online friends had signed up to participate in some massive gaming tournament about half a year ago. The big event was coming up in twenty days and their team needed to practice, but Joe couldn’t focus on doing that while also entertaining Maggie. As such, he had made the difficult decision to honor his promise to the people he had known for over a decade, and asked that Maggie entertain herself for a while.
To his great surprise, the girl had agreed with absolutely no complaints. From her perspective, Joe had agreed to a social contract, and striving to uphold the terms of it was commendable. Furthermore, she had learned enough about human society to venture out into the mega-city by herself without causing any major incidents. It also helped that she had recently figured out how this ‘wi-fi’ thing worked, which allowed her to look up any information she might have needed from various online resources. That same wireless connection had also come in handy when she played a little prank on that spying government agent several days ago.
Maggie was, of course, completely aware she was being monitored. Her mind had a capacity for processing information that rivaled that of quantum computers, and she usually allocated most of that capacity to constantly taking in her surroundings. It wasn’t difficult for her to notice a few questionable data streams here and some suspicious camera movements there. She honestly thought it was adorable that the humans thought they could spy on The Observer without being found out. Maggie could have retaliated in some way, or perhaps obfuscated her movements, but she saw no need to do so. It wasn’t hubris or pride, but logic that had driven her to this conclusion.
After all, the more one strove to hide something, the harder humans tried to unearth it.
That said, she still had a few secrets she would rather remain unknown to the humans. One of those was that Joe was her psychic anchor. If something were to happen to him, then Maggie would lose the ability to manifest her otherworldly power and grow weakened enough to be banished to whence she came. Conversely, so long as Joe remained, it was nigh-impossible for her to be forced out of this reality. She quite liked this realm and all of its novelties, like matter and gravity. She really didn’t want to leave until she had experienced its vastness in its entirety. It was therefore vital that she ensured that no harm would come to Joe during her solo excursion.
That was where his favorite machine came in. Back when Maggie had ‘upgraded’ the Full Immersion Pod 3,000™ she had done so by infusing it with the essence of one of her familiars, a shoggoth. It was a Class-1 cosmic entity whose defining features were great strength, immense durability, and doornail-level intellect. That last one made their psychic footprint practically nonexistent while also rendering them ridiculously easy to control. The elder ones usually used them as grunts or slaves, but Maggie had spent the better part of two centuries training hers to be more… subtle. Admittedly it was still a work in progress, but it had served its purpose flawlessly thus far. She therefore felt confident in entrusting Joe’s safety to the possessed pod. It would, at the very least, buy enough time for her to rush to the man’s defense should he come under attack while she was away.
As Maggie walked down the street and thought about said shoggoth, she came to realize something. She hadn’t actually seen any living creatures other than humans ever since her arrival at mega-city Dave-156. No birds, no rats, not even a single cockroach was to be found anywhere within a three hundred meter radius. This lack of fauna puzzled Maggie immensely. It wasn’t as if the atmosphere was poisoned to the point where it couldn’t sustain life. If anything the air was almost completely devoid of pollution. Without any obvious answers to her queries, Maggie decided to challenge herself to figure out where she might find some animals, if at all.
Of course, the girl could have speed-read several online articles about the subject with very little effort, but she refused to do so. Unravelling mysteries and studying unknown phenomena was Maggie’s idea of fun, and simply looking up the answer would ruin it for her. It was one of those ‘the journey mattered more than the destination’ type of deals. The first step was as tricky as always, however. Maggie wondered where and how to start her investigation when she recalled that Edith Mandrake, Joe’s next-door-neighbor, had mentioned something about a ‘pupper.’ Based on the context of that conversation, she deduced that this term most likely referred to an animal, likely a type of pet, which made it as good a topic as any to kick things off.
Having barred herself from getting easy answers, the girl employed the ancient art of asking random people on the street. Pedestrians were, of course, taken aback when someone as oddly alluring as Maggie randomly spoke to them, and even more so when she started asking about something that should have been common knowledge. Still, the people of Dave-156 proved to be reasonable and friendly enough and kindly provided Maggie with some relevant information.
Apparently a pupper was a type of quadrupedal mammal characterized by its friendly nature, soft fur, floppy ears, cold nose, and expressive tail movements. As far as the girl could tell, it was a genetic offshoot of the canine species represented in some of Joe’s games. Unfortunately, finding one was going to be extremely difficult. Puppers were expensive creatures that required all sorts of permits and upkeep, so only those blessed with employment could afford to keep one. Edith Mandrake had mentioned they were quite uncommon, but Maggie hadn’t suspected that the key reasons for that would be financial in nature.
The astral girl was not easily dissuaded, of course, and maintained her search for those rare puppers. After about forty hours and nearly five hundred street interviews, she learned of the location of an exotic pet shop that supposedly had them in stock. Unfortunately, it was about eighty kilometers away, in a completely different part of mega-city Dave-156. This was far more distance than she was willing to place between herself and Joe, and she couldn’t make him accompany her since she had agreed to let him hone his gaming skills undisturbed. Maggie was understandably disheartened, but her search hadn’t been for naught.
She had learned that pet shops were a thing. Therefore, while the mythical pupper seemed beyond her reach at the moment, she had found a new venue of completing her objective of finding an animal. She resumed questioning pedestrians about where she might find a more local place - one that was within a five kilometer radius of Joe’s place. This proved even more difficult than her earlier attempts, as there genuinely didn’t seem to be an establishment that fit her criteria. She had the idea of asking those food stalls where they got their meat from, but that was a dead end. Those places were staffed by androids that merely mimicked human behavior. They had no free will, and were therefore incapable of responding to topics they weren’t programmed to handle.
“Excuse me, miss?”
Maggie had been on the third day of her search when a stranger approached her of his own volition. It was an older gentleman in his forties or fifties, though his age was difficult to gauge because of the nasty burn marks on his face. This immediately struck Maggie as odd since it was the first scarred human she had encountered, discounting virtual avatars. His clothes were rather peculiar as well. Rather than light garments meant to keep one cool in the relatively warm weather, this man was wearing an old dusty trench coat, a red woolen beanie, and a predominantly gray plaid scarf.
“Yes?” she replied with a smile.
“I was told by one of my associates that a lovely young lady fitting your description had been searching the area for a pet. Would that happen to be you?”
“Indeed.”
“Wonderful! My name is Mr. Charles and I own a small independent firm called Lyfe Haxx, spelled with a ‘y’ and double ‘x.’ To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?”
“You may call me Mags. Just Mags.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
He stretched his hand out, but Maggie made a point of not shaking it.
“… Right, to the point, then,” he pulled it back in. “I believe my firm has the sort of merchandise you’re looking for. I’d be more than willing to show you the way, if you’re interested.”
“Curious. I was informed by the locals that there were no pet shops in the vicinity.”
“We’re not a pet shop, exactly. More of a general store that happens to have a few cuddly critters in our inventory at the moment.”
“As I understand, it is generally accepted practice for the buyer to approach the seller, not the other way around,” she pointed out.
“Haha, that is indeed true. However, our business is still taking off at the moment and our ability to post advertisements is limited, so we have to seek out potential customers ourselves. I assumed, given the exotic nature of your gene-mods, that you are an individual of considerable means. I therefore thought it prudent to reach out to you in the hope of forming a lasting business relationship.”
As a seeker of truth and knowledge, Maggie did not particularly care for the whole gene-mod misunderstanding that kept happening. She tolerated it because it was a convenient and hassle-free way of explaining her celebrity-like appearance, the swirling pits of darkness she had for eyes, and her strangely serpentine coils of black hair. It also helped that the assumption wasn’t entirely wrong since her fleshy vessel was technically a genetic modification of the baseline homo sapiens species. Alternatively she could have made herself look completely human instead of only mostly so. By now she had gathered more than enough data on the fleshlings’ sense of aesthetics to flawlessly blend in with them.
However, Maggie had grown quite fond of her singularly unique appearance, so she refused to alter it unless it was absolutely necessary.
“I comprehend,” she nodded. “I assent to your request and will accompany you to your place of business.”
“Oh, excellent!” Mr. Charles smiled. “I am confident you will not be disappointed! Right this way, miss.”
The man led her across the street and into a residential building before taking the elevator all the way down.
What the locals referred to as ‘street level’ was actually about eighty stories off the ground. It was necessary to do so since the hyper-scrapers had about two hundred floors in total. That was a lot of height that a lot of people had to cover with a very limited number of elevators that couldn’t go too fast lest they injure their passengers. At some point folks realized the easiest way to alleviate this issue was to just raise what was considered the ground floor, so they started doing that. This eventually led to most mega-cities developing a vertically tiered street system.
Dave-156 was no different. The main street that Joe primarily used was actually the third out of four layers. The one where Mr. Charles led Maggie was the lowest, which was commonly referred to as ‘undertown.’ The astral girl had never been there per-se, but she had spied on it through her exceptional perception. Interestingly enough, it really wasn’t all that different in terms of appearance from the upper levels. The most noticeable change was that the air felt stuffier, chillier, and carried the faint scent of burning tires.
Following her temporary guide, Maggie eventually arrived at a three-story storefront built within the space between two hyper-scrapers. The construction seemed sturdy enough and it was by no means small, though it looked like a tiny shack compared to the feats of engineering on either side of it. It was also a very recent addition if the uncharacteristically fresh white paint was any indication. A big red holographic sign that said ‘Lyfe Haxx™’ hovered in the air just above the entrance.
“Here we are, miss,” Mr. Charles happily announced. “Step right this way!”
The automatic front door slid open at his approach, allowing entry to him and his guest. The interior was very orderly and spacious, with plenty of rafters and shelves to show off a wide variety of goods. That said, there wasn’t much on display at that particular moment. There were things like self-propelled ashtrays, automatic back scratchers, a machine that did nothing except turn itself off when switched on, and other novelty items. The most practical article on offer was a pair of running shoes that made quacking noises every third step.
“Apologies for the mess,” the owner said merrily. “As I said we’ve only just started up and I’m still getting everything in order. If you’ll follow me in the back I can show you our collection of easily affordable pets.”
Maggie did so, and was led into a large warehouse. Seven forklift-like cargo robots were hard at work organizing the mountainous pile of crates and boxes in the back. Among the packages were a series of smaller plastic containers with small holes in them, from which emanated the telltale sounds of animal life. Maggie had to try extra hard to keep herself from peeking inside, as she didn’t want to ruin the big reveal just as she was on the cusp of achieving victory. She waited eagerly for Mr. Charles to start showing them off, which he did with minimal delay.
On the whole, there were eight critters on offer. The first three were mammals - a snow-white rabbit, a primarily orange miniature giant space hamster, and a baby hedgehog. The next two were reptiles consisting of a black gecko with yellow spots and a coiled up snake with golden and brown markings. Pet number six was a tarantula boasting an exceptionally vibrant blue-and-yellow coloration. The final pair were a slightly obnoxious but nevertheless colorful parrot and an over-excited budgie.
“What do you think, miss? Cute little buggers, aren’t they?”
Indeed, even Maggie could tell each of these critters was exceptionally adorable in their own way. This wasn’t just her opinion, but a deduction based on hard data. Color, size, shape, behavior, and other observable factors suggested that 96% of humans would find an appealing companion within this selection. It was, of course, impossible to account for personal taste, but Maggie’s unbiased analysis declared that, from a purely scientific standpoint, the hamster was the cutest.
With her primary objective well and fully completed, the girl decided to inquire about her failed endeavor to locate a specific organism.
“You do not have puppers in stock?”
“Puppers?!” the owner’s eyes went wide. “Heavens no, miss. They’re high-maintenance animals that are unsuited for common apartments. Even if I were able to get one, I’d never sell it down here.”
“Why are common apartments considered inadequate for puppers?”
“Their size is the issue. Some of them can grow as big as a person, and they need plenty of real-world exercise to remain healthy. You can’t adequately care for those in a standard four-by-five room, so you’d never get a permit to raise one. In contrast, these little buggers can be kept in cages and terrariums that take up hardly any space.”
“I comprehend.”
Mr. Charles was momentarily taken aback when the girl’s eyes flashed blue, but he just chalked it up to whatever strange gene-mod she was using.
“So, what do you say, miss Mags? Just five hundred poundingtons each. The price includes all the things you’d need to keep them healthy and happy, including a digital manual on animal care and a year’s supply of feed.”
Maggie had come this far, so she figured she might as well see this through to the end and decided to obtain one of these pets for no particular reason. However, there was a rather substantial issue with fulfilling her whim through legal methods.
“I regret to inform you that I do not possess any poundingtons at this time.”
The currency in question was exclusively digital, which meant that Maggie was incapable of having any to her name without a Plug-n-Pay chip implant. She could ‘deposit’ it into other people’s accounts, of course. If she did that, she could either directly inflate Mr. Charles’ balance or borrow Joe for a bit in order to have him make the purchase on her behalf. However, Maggie was currently on an adventure of sorts, so she wanted to see how people normally handled these situations. It was a learning experience she was looking forward to partaking in.
“Oh. That’s… rather disappointing,” the man’s smile vanished. “At the risk of sounding rude, young lady, if you’re incapable of making a purchase then you should say so at the start. Otherwise you waste both your time and mine.”
“I offer apologies. I was focused on my desire to observe the domesticated animals and did not consider my lack of financial means until presently.”
“I suppose I can’t blame you for getting excited. I am curious, though, are you perhaps visiting Butterpond-4 from elsewhere? Your accent and manner of speech would suggest as much.”
“This is an accurate assessment.”
“Hm. I see. I think I understand your dilemma.”
The 3rd British Empire was the only government in the Milky Way that employed the poundington as their primary currency. Nobody was quite sure why the brits insisted on doing so when considering that literally all other space-faring civilizations traded using standard galactic credits, often abbreviated to ‘creds.’ This caused all sorts of trouble whenever foreigners visited a 3BE system. Not only did the value of the credit fluctuate in relation to the poundington, but the former were most commonly exchanged via physical denomination. It was common for visitors and tourists to find themselves incapable of paying for anything because they didn’t think to convert their creds to poundingtons beforehand.
Mr. Charles felt confident that the girl in his shop was one such case. He could think of no other reasonable explanation for how a foreigner with such fancy gene-mods would be effectively broke. The only way to rectify this was for her to get a PnP implant and open a bank account in her name. The medical procedures and bureaucratic processes required to do that were far too time-consuming. As things stood, Mr. Charles was incapable of selling Maggie anything, but he didn’t have the heart to just turn her away.
Thankfully, he was a savvy individual and was able to come up with an alternative.
“Miss Mags, I think we may be able to work out a trade. Er, nothing immoral, I assure you,” he was quick to add.
“I’m all ears,” she proudly used the very first idiom Joe had taught her.
“As you can see, my place of business is still in disarray and I’ve yet to gain a steady customer base. If you can help me get it off the ground, I will be willing to offer you one of my pets as recompense.”
She nearly questioned whether it was a good idea to lift the building off of its foundation, but then realized from the context that he probably didn’t mean that literally.
“What exactly would I need to do?” Maggie asked instead.
“Allow me to explain. My store carries a variety of items aimed at impulsive youngsters, things that are easily affordable with a fifty poundington allowance. My plan is to get them to show up every month to try out whatever new fad had cropped up since their last visit.”
“This appears to be a sound business strategy when it comes to securing long-term profits.”
“I am glad you think so. Nevertheless, it’s difficult for an old geezer like myself to appeal to my target demographic’s youthful spirit. You, on the other hand, have an exotic appearance, are soft spoken, well-mannered, and decently quirky. I am certain you have no trouble attracting attention to yourself. All you would need to do is tactfully redirect it towards my shop. What do you say?”
“This is permissible. How many customers would I need to secure to fulfil my side of this agreement?”
“Oh. Uh, hm. Just a moment, please.”
Mr. Charles closed his eyes and furrowed his brow as he tapped into his Instaccounting implant in order to run the numbers.
“I believe twenty five paying customers would be sufficient to cover one of my pet-care packages. Do you think you can manage that?”
“It is well within my abilities,” she nodded. “Is it possible to have this agreement recorded in written form?”
Maggie didn’t actually need the deal documented, but her observations had led her to believe that mortals were fond of committing such things to physical storage, so to speak.
“Oh, dear. That puts me in a bit of a pickle,” the owner was troubled. “I don’t think I can prepare a formal contract right this instant.”
“It is of no consequence. I shall accommodate.”
Maggie’s eyes briefly glowed, and she produced an ominous-looking parchment out of thin air. Mr. Charles’ proposal was written out on it in cursive handwriting and slightly glowing red ink. She presented this to the befuddled store owner, who felt a sudden chill run down his spine when he grabbed the suspicious document. He was overcome with the overwhelming sensation that this went beyond mere theatrics and was an actual soul-binding contract straight out of some horror story.
Ultimately the old man decided to trust his reason over his startlingly accurate intuition and gave Maggie the benefit of the doubt that this was a bizarre misunderstanding.
“Young lady, I’m not sure what you expect to accomplish with these parlor tricks, but if all you want is a promissory note then I can write one out for you.”
He handed the parchment back to her, only to have it burst into flames and disappear in a puff of smoke the instant Maggie touched it.
“This is an acceptable alternative,” she calmly declared.
Mr. Charles shook his head and muttered something about ‘bloody foreigners’ under his breath as he stepped up to his office. The promissory note was quickly written up, stamped, and signed. The gentleman graciously ignored Maggie’s declaration about pacts being sealed and told her to get busy. The girl then grabbed a catalogue of his wares and left promptly. Frankly speaking, he was having second thoughts about the whole thing, as he realized this endeavor could backfire immensely. Mags was so strange she could easily give his store a bad reputation instead of a good one, but he decided to trust in the terrifying power that cute girls had over lonely youngsters.
Mr. Charles then found out he was sorely underestimating his temporary business partner. Within two hours of Maggie leaving, the Lyfe Haxx office had been visited by over seventy potential customers, at least half of whom had bought something. Mr. Charles was utterly flabbergasted at this inexplicable influx of people, though he certainly wasn’t complaining. As for the girl-shaped cosmic horror, she had fulfilled her obligations with unexpected ease. She hadn’t even resorted to any particularly nefarious or unethical means in order to do so. All she had done was passively monitor people’s subconscious desires and approach those whose whims could be fulfilled by Mr. Charles’ merchandise. Her alien charms had handled the rest.
In the end, the customers were happy with their purchases, the store got the boost its owner wanted, and Maggie had earned herself a cute little pet. It was basically the ideal ‘everyone wins’ outcome. Mr. Charles profusely thanked Maggie and even offered to hire her full-time as an assistant manager. She recognized that it was a tremendous honor to be offered employment for someone of her apparent age, but had no desire to accept the position. She politely refused the old man, grabbed her prize, and headed off towards Joe’s place with a triumphant smile on her face. As for her choice in pet, she ended up picking the small gold-and-brown-scaled serpent that she would later bestow upon the name of Azgod’Kalar the Calm.
Yes, the miniature giant space hamster might have been the cutest from a scientific standpoint, but that snake was absolutely precious as far as Maggie was concerned.
