The three of us entered and treaded through a narrow stone hall: Nash first, then me and Joyce.​ It soon widened to an area with a low ceiling lit by torches. A large wooden orange door with a black handle stood before us ominously. To our right a tight staircase curved up and away.

​"Do you think Val is here?" Nash asked me.

"I do," I said, and motioned for my companions to follow me up the stairs. As we quietly ascended, I noticed a low humming building in intensity. It was coming from a window up ahead pointing towards the core of the mountain. The window was a small and frameless, in the shape of a circle with two pointy ears. I glanced at Joyce, who was scratching her armpit nonchalantly, and peeked in.

Through the window I saw the enormous inner chamber of the mountain. It was bigger than most shopping malls. In the center of it, larger than could be believed, stood Garfield. Or, at least, his instantly recognizable body. His giant feet and tail provided a mighty base support for his plump little belly, while his thin arms and legs proved far more disturbing to perceive in this realm than in the daily strips. His head was missing though, and I saw far above me that his squat body disappeared directly into the flat ceiling at the top of the room. Below him, thronging around the feet, humming and swaying in unison, were hundreds of what looked like ravers or kinksters. There was very little clothing to be seen, save for bits of leather or nylon here and there. Facepaint and accessories were in abundance though, and from my vantage point just a few dozen feet off the ground I could make out at least a few people in fursuits. Some appeared to be orgying. Everyone seemed to be staring up towards Garfield or at each other's naughty bits but I quickly ducked my head back down anyways in case anyone were to turn around and spot  me.

"Is Val there?" Nash asked desperately.

"I don't think so," I said, "And there's way too many people down there anyway. We gotta keep climbing."

"But what if she is down there? Shouldn't we at least check?"

"It's like a thousand people down there, girl." said Joyce, grabbing Nash's beefy shoulder with one of her tiny hands. "And they're probably cultists. I don't wanna fucking die today."

Nash closed her mouth and we continued our ascent of the spiral staircase around the huge chamber. More humming and chants of "PAPA OOH MA MEOW MEOW" echoed from the windows every hundred steps or so. It took much longer than climbing the mountain from the outside would have, and even though it was warmer I felt like I was going insane by the time we finally stepped out onto a landing.

From the landing the staircase continued to the right, while to the left was another wooden door, this one with windows to either side instead of torches. Once again, I approached the left window to sneak a peek, but was toppled by Nash as she shoulder bumped me in her haste to do the same. Joyce and I gave her some space by sharing the view offered by the right window.

Val was inside, curled up on the floor in front of Garfield's gaping mouth. His huge sarcastic eyes stared her down as he might stare at Nermal before offering a biting and humorous rejoinder. Directly above his eyes was a black ceiling, with a few circuits and pipes jutting out in places. Val appeared to be asleep on a bed of tattered rags. Around her neck was a pink collar with a bell on it. Her long black hair was messy and slightly damp, with black cat ears peeking out from it. Her tights were torn. Nash seemed like she was about to break.

"Hold on, Nash," I whispered.

​There were six figures surrounding Val, all shrouded in black robes. They all had tails poking out, lifting the back of the robes and exposing some pretty awesome behinds. Three of them were sitting at a large blue console on the left side of the room, watching monitors and pushing buttons. One was monitoring Val- this figure held a spray bottle in one hand. The fifth figure had a microphone, and kept repeating "papa ooh ma mow mow" into it. The final figure was tending to something inside Garfield's mouth, the size of which easily doubled their height. When they left the mouth I saw who remained: it was Jim Davis. He was suspended above the ground, his body consumed by a mass of tendril-like wires connected to the back of Garfield's mouth. His head rolled to the side, but his eyes were still open. He looked old, though not as old as I had expected. There was no long gray beard, just the same white hair hanging on to the back of his balding head. There was a pain behind those eyes that betrayed the truth of his age.

I pulled my head away from the window and the disturbing scene it contained. I reached slowly for Nash's shoulder. She slapped my hand away hard.

"No! I'm not leaving her!" she yell-whispered.

"Come on- there's more stairs!" I whispered back, "Besides, whatever they're doing to her is no worse than how I like to spend a typical Wednesday evening."

"That's true... weird. She was always so vanilla."

"Uh, yeah, whatever! Come on, let's go up one more floor! We'll come right back."

"No, Riese. I'm staying here." Nash responded, staring at me with dead seriousness.

​"Okay, okay- just go in yet! Seriously, Nash- wait until me and Joyce come back."

​Nash nodded and planted her face back in the window. I hoped no one would see her sharp narrow face mad-dogging them through their black hoods while we were gone. Joyce grabbed my hand and lead me toward the staircase, and we climbed up together. Halfway up we came to a small gate, like the ones installed to keep babies safe. It had a tiny monitor by the lock mechanism. It flickered on and flashed the words single file across the display: Which Video Game Babe Is Hotter? Candy Kong or Lara Croft?

I considered my decision carefully- was whoever crafting it looking for the traditional answer, or were they a renegade like me? I recalled that we were inside the peak of a hollowed-out mountain right now and felt I had my answer. I pushed the button on the left and the display flashed green. The lock opened and the monitor displayed another message: Ah-a Femoid of Taste, I See! I pushed the gate open and climbed the final steps with Joyce.
​
We came up directly into the topmost chamber, where the ceiling ended in a point encased by the mountain's peak. It was half the size of the last chamber, and exponentially smaller than the first. A song by the legendary trans dreamgirl SOPHIE played from three speakers around the peak of the ceiling. The bulk of the floor was taken up by the top of Garfield's head. In front of his great ears, a hole was carved into the fat cat's head, revealing the squishy pinkness within. Sat in the hole was a girl wearing a pink sweatshirt and jeans. She was squatting in her seat, her head peering between her knees at a small monitor and keyboard poking out the edge of her hole. Her hair was short and white with messy bangs, and slightly longer in the back. Her winged eyeliner was impressively pointy- more so than I had ever managed to make my own. She had black lipstick too, and a spiked dog collar around her neck.

The girl turned around in her little brain hole and regarded us slyly. She pouted her lip in a show of mock despair.

"Oh no someone got in! And it's a human girl and her high-res friend!" said the comfily-dressed woman, "You found my hidden gamer pad! No one else has ever made it past the gate. Well, there's not much I can do- I cut off all communication with those annoying cat people downstairs."

"Who are you? And why are you in Garfield's head?" I asked.

​"My name's Ashe," said Ashe, "And that's how I control the biggest Mecha in the Pacific Northwest! Hahahaha!"

I braced myself for annihilation, wincing and silently bemoaning my deferred dreams. Who would stop the plague of buff nerds from doing vague untold evil? Who would write the great American novel? Who would suck the most dicks at Dick's Dick-Suckin Sundays in Sacramento? It was not for me to know. Annihilation missed its due date at this juncture, though, and I opened my eyes to see Ashe still laughing. Joyce looked pretty pissed off.

"Ahaha! I was just kidding. This is actually how I play games- the statue can interface with God's Computer outside. There are some really great games on that thing- wanna see?"

"No, our friend's downstairs," I said, "Look, I don't know what's going on here, but there's no way you're up here just playing video games all the time. They got fucking Jim Davis all wired up down there! Show me what else you can access on that computer."

Ashe stuck her lower lip out and pouted at me again.

"Please?" I added.

"Okay," she said, "Let me bring up the spreadsheet."

The snow-haired gamer girl pressed a hotkey on her keyboard and brought up said document. Rows and rows of names appeared, along with their IQs, BMIs, High Scores and Zodiac signs. Ashe scrolled down and I saw there were thousands of names, comprising of what could be the entire remaining population of North America for all I knew. 

"What is this?" I asked.

"Oh, there's a company called Permanent Solutions over in the City that I've been doing some contract work for. Just while I'm stuck in lobby queues in-game. They developed an algorithm that'll use God's Computer to restructure the population. I'm just managing the data and converting it to GCL. And the data the algorithm uses to make its decisions is all in this spreadsheet."

"Wow, what the fuck is wrong with you? This is going to kill people based on bullshit pseudoscience! And also Zodiac signs, but still that's fucked up!"

​"Yeah," said Joyce, "I was the one who added those. Sorry."

"Well, it's not like I'm saying all Geminis need to die- and they won't!" said Ashe, "The algorithm makes that call, and it uses all the determinants on a weighed scale. So, ethically, I mean- yeah it's gonna kill some people, but I'm not deciding who! It could kill me for all I know- except my IQ is 179. What have people done for me? Ever? Even when I had to scrounge for estrogen vials like you two- nothing! I didn't need them then and I definitely don't need them now! I'm doing fine here and I have everything I need!"

"Great, I'm glad you're doing so well," I said.

"No, seriously- the people who are going to get weeded out by the program- an OBJECTIVE program, by the way- are the ones who started all this crap in the first place. Once we delete them we'll be able to build society back up again! Things are going to be way better for you, believe me. I know! I had to make it on my own when the Internet fell! I didn't have friends, guns, I didn't have shit! I know how fucked up it still is out there. Thing will get a lot better when we weed out the SCUM, the Reich, the Arbuckles, those gullible idiots downstairs- all these stupid violent factions who can only think about the past. Not the future we should be headed towards! You, lady-" Joyce pointed at me, "You made it here! That means you must be better than them- a woman of the future. You'll do great."

Ashe turned around to close the spreadsheet on her monitor then turned turned back to me. She grabbed the sides of the hole in Garfield's head she was occupying and started pushing herself up and out of it. In a flash, Joyce was there before her on the head. She stepped on Ashe's thigh with her black vinyl boots, pushing her down and preventing her from leaving. 

"I'm gonna need you to transfer that data directly to me," said Joyce, "All of it."

"Even if your program could handle a file that size," said Ashe, "I can't afford to lose this job. He would find out, believe me, and I'd be sacked. Also, I don't want to."

From downstairs, I heard a door creak loudly open, and then some shouting. Some of it sounded like Nash. Then came a silence which was even more worrying.

"Joyce- can you handle this?" I asked.

"Yeah, you can go," she said.

I left her there with her foot pressing down on Ashe's thigh, eliciting some grunting and a lot of wiggling beneath her leg's weight. Joyce's eyes didn't leave Ashe for a second, and had the icy glow I remembered from the first night we shared together back when she was a human and not a computer program made flesh. I had very little time to think about any of this as I sped toward the stairs and down into the dark of the mountain staircase, plunging once more into the chamber in which Jim Davis spent his tortured days.

Chapter One || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

"I hope Young is okay," Nash sighed wearily, "Stills is terrible with kids. She's got that chaotic bisexual energy- one time I caught her posting a thirst trap while Young was in the bath alone. Poor kid was freezing. And as for Cosby-"

"Yeah, yeah, can we not talk about Cosby?" I interjected, "I like your stories, I'm just hoping you could tell some that, like, don't have Cosby in them at all."

Nash fell silent, and I sighed in the tense quiet. We were camped out in the mountains, far north of the City. Nash had set up a tent and a fire, over which were skewered a couple large pizza rolls that were still thawing. She had lent me her Patagonia jacket, leggings, and boots. I was definitely wishing that clinic hadn't burned down before I could get my SRS and implant, it would have made leggings much more comfortable.

It had been a long and arduous journey and my relationship with Nash had been strained. At the beginning she had flirted with me, giving as good as she got. But the closer we came to finding Jim Davis the more worried she became about Val's fate. It had already been a week- neither of us wanted to say it, but there was every chance she was dead. Still, she couldn't go on without finding out, and I didn't stand a chance against Stanley's benefactors without the help of Val's friends.

Without saying a word, Nash crawled back into the tent. I waited a few minutes then joined her. I bundled myself under the flannel covers and turned on my side, facing the front flap. Nash murmured and wrapped her arm around my waist, pulling me back towards her. I was confused at first but soon succumbed to her warm embrace.

​The next day Nash and I climbed another mountain. I lost my balance every few dozen paces in the deep powdery snow, often tumbling in face first and relying on Nash to come help me up. At the top we finally rested to look out over our surroundings. Before us at the base of the nearest mountain was a great stone structure comprised of two ivory tablets, each the size and shape of a gas station awning. Vines stretched from the tablets up into the trees on the side of the mountain. A part in the clouds overhead shined sunlight on the clearing, distinguishing it from the surrounding wintery dark. 

​Nash gave me a hopeful look and I, looking down at the steep downward slope, gave her a scared one. She sighed and got down on one knee. I could hardly contain my excitement until I saw her motion towards her back. I still relished the opportunity to ride her down the mountain, despite my disappointment. I wrapped my arms around her neck and my legs around her waist and squeezed tight, feeling the weight of my emaciated body be supported easily by Nash's strong and sinewy muscles. She didn't slow down one iota, and descended quickly and smoothly. 

When we came upon the great tablets Nash and I noticed hieroglyphs upon both of their surfaces. One was laid back against the great mountain, which was uncommonly smooth and gray; its peak remained untouched by snow. The symbols upon it were too far away to distinguish individually but seemed to paint a large intricate picture when viewed from afar. Perhaps of a figure leading some great force against a foe? The other tablet spread out across the ground- it, too, untouched by snow. Among the hieroglyphs there I could make out a cat, different humanoids, a heart, and a rock or lump of coal. This last one, a carving of a little lump with a flat base, was glowing an anomalous green. I lowered myself off Nash's back and approached it. Cautiously, I laid my hand upon the glowing symbol.

The spot beneath my hand went dark just as a cloud overhead cast a shade over the clearing. Some of the symbols on the vertical tablet began to light up and glow that same green. I withdrew quickly and gripped Nash's hand tight as the glowing increased and tinted her face green as if we were watching the aurora borealis. A large cluster of the bright green symbols seemed to change shape and swirl together on the surface of the ivory tablet. They coalesced into a humanoid silhouette and I couldn't hold back a gasp of recognition. Nash turned away from the incredible display and lowered her eyebrows at me. From her green outline on the giant computer, Joyce emerged. She was alive once more.

The glowing stopped quickly and all was still and dark. I breathed heavily and regarded Joyce. She didn't move for a moment, but then turned slowly towards me. She stumbled a bit and I worried there was something wrong with her. What if it wasn't even Joyce at all? Then the clouds parted again and I saw something in her that told me it was my old friend and domme. I ran towards her and when she saw me she started laughing and embraced me. Her smell and the grip of her arms took me back mentally to the joyful times when she would hold my bruised and lacerated body against hers and whisper sweet things in my ear. I nearly fell to the earth, quickly as my body yearned to melt in those soft but powerful arms.

​"Riese! Oh my god-" Joyce laughed uncontrollably, "-it worked! Thank you so much!"

"How-" I sniffed, smiling and crying, "-how are you back?"

"It's thanks to that code I had you enter! Michael's old desktop connects to THIS!" she slammed her fist on the white stone structure, "THIS, God's Computer!"

"What?" I asked, but it already made sense as I looked up at the tablet and the mountain that bore its weight. I turned around to see Nash sunk to the ground, our gear strewn around her, sobbing silently.

"Nash? What's wrong? This is Joyce, she's my friend! I thought she was dead! She can help us, probably!" I said.

"Sure, I ain't got nothing better to do" said Joyce, shrugging.

"I don't care!" cried Nash, "This doesn't have anything to do with Jim Davis, Riese! It's got nothing to do with Val either! Where the hell does this pipe even go? There's no symbol for it on God's Fucking Computer! Those locals were full of shit! There's nothing here!"

"...Well I think God's Fucking Computer is pretty cool, bitch, but alright..." Joyce mumbled.

I approached Nash with some vague notion that I should comfort her. I reached my hand out towards her shoulder but then withdrew it. I looked to Joyce for advice but she was already retreating behind the Computer.

"Nash..." I said. 

Before I could decide what to say Nash hugged my knees forcefully, nearly toppling me. I regained my footing and patted her head, marveling at the texture of her short brown hair. I wiped a tear from her cheek with my thumb and winced at the tenderness of my companion who had been so resolute and determined.

"We'll keep looking for her, Nash," I said, "We'll 'interrogate' those locals again if we have to- I know how much you liked that. Joyce can help too! She's really sadistic- you'll love her. We'll find Val together. You're a good partner, you deserve to see her again. And at this point I really wanna find her just so I can start getting some attention from you, too."

Nash nodded faintly and started crying much louder. I was a little uncomfortable but as it continued I tried my best to connect to her pain. There was my usual longing to feel her pain so as to connect with her better, yes, but there was also a deep sadness from seeing a woman I respected so torn apart. I knew this all connected back to Stanley and my hate surged anew. It was beginning to turn into something really powerful.

"Hey!" Joyce shouted from behind God's Computer, "Come check out this little hole!"

I blushed, embarrassed that Joyce would call me by my nickname in public, then realized that wasn't what had happened. I ran back behind the computer, into the dark gap between the Computer and the mountain where the vines which slithered across the clearing disappeared into the mountainside. Joyce did indeed have her hand in a hole- but it was the mountain's!

​"Nash!" I yelled, "Come here! Bring the pipe!"

Nash came with the pipe, which fit the divot perfectly. It locked in place and the mountain opened itself to the three of us.

Chapter One || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

​I strode out onto the street and ducked into the nearest alley. From behind a dumpster I watched Stanley's window for any sign of movement. There wasn't much to see there beyond the flicker of fluorescent lighting in the darkness of midnight that encased the city. I breathed a sigh of relief and laid down in the sewage. I hope this strange fluid doesn't soak through my shorts and make me pregnant, I thought to myself, then remembered how the clinic had burnt down before my appointment. As much as I dug scrounging around for estrogen vials and spare implants, I really did miss the medical infrastructure of society when it was decaying and not destroyed.

Wasn't Stanley talking about rebuilding society? I thought. The plan, it seemed, would involve eugenics. I wasn't too fond of the idea, and guessed that the rest of his plan probably involved even more ideas that I wasn't a fan of. I thought maybe somebody should stop him. Looking around towards the industrial zone, I remembered those lovely ladies with their iron tools and developed musculatures. They would likely have few problems stopping the grand designs of a couple of nerds. 

I began running through the blocks of rubble and past the small tent sanctuaries where neo-urbanites still dwelled. I was soon in the industrial zone but I heard no machinery whirring. There were no friendly butch faces either. The only face I saw peeking out from behind a steel press was a very femme raccoon. She dodged my questions and ran away to gossip about me with her friends. I came upon the site where I had received the suppository aid which just saved me from a life of IT work. The table I had dined at was laid bare, and the campfire was out. Smoke still wafted wearily across the scene.

At the far end of the campground, separated only by a thin metal fence from the worksite, was the iron worker's dormitory, made from plywood with a baby blue paintjob that looked barely dried. I stepped in to find the dorm room experience any aging lesbian would be happy to have had. Three of the friendliest cats I'd ever seen came up to greet me by rubbing their backs on my legs. There was plenty of natural light and plants at every window. The floor was varnished and smelled great. I peeked in one of the rooms and saw posters of Sheryl Crow and Aimee Mann. The beds were all messy. The floors were littered with denim, plaid, athletic wear and boxer brief harnesses. The place was too wonderfully chaotic to search for clues as to my gay guardian angels' whereabouts. There was no time.

I felt my mind scrape at the walls of my skull as my face grew red and my stomach churned. I felt the stinging in my eyes that precipitated the flow of tears. No water sprang forth, as I was at that moment distracted by an ominous creaking from around the corner at the end of the hall. I grabbed the nearest armament- a blue 8-inch toy with a bumpy head that Erika Moen had given a good review before queers from the fractured revolution had cancelled her permanently.  Cautiously, I approached the corner, silent as a trans woman in a public restroom. I leaped out into the kitchen, wielding the phallic apparatus like a sword.

"Oh, hey Riese," said Nash from below the kitchen sink. She was dressed even butcher than the other day, in torn blue jeans and a dirty wife pleaser shirt. She barely glanced at me before turning back around on her knees and continuing her assault of the pipe with her wrench. Her strong arms worked with a confident ease and her steady but intriguing face seemed focused on the task at hand though I could sense her watching me in her periphery. I didn't move from my peculiar position one inch.

"Stop pointing that thing at me or I'll have to use it on you," she said without looking back at me, "And we both know you'd like that way too much."

"W-what are you doing here?" I asked.

​"I was supposed to visit my partner Val this weekend. But something's wrong. She should be here! I'm guessing you don't know anything..."

"No. I met Val though. She makes a damn good milkshake!"

"Careful with the references, kid. Her disappearance might've been the work of the Quentin Containment Force for all we know. Then we'd really be fucked."

"Kid? I'm probably older than-" I began, when the pipe finally fell loose and a ring fell onto the floor. It rolled a bit than stopped next to a promotional accent area Carol rug. Nash picked it up and examined it. I kneeled down next to her and gave her a hopeful look.

"Sorry, kid. Not much of a clue. Unless we're investigating lesbian marital drama, and Val doesn't believe in marriage."

"What I wanna know," I said fussily, "Is where the hell everybody went!"

"Yeah no shit Shelock," said Nash, "Why don't you look for clues too?"

I attempted to search the area, placing a tentative finger against my pursed lips and looking from the sink to the counter to the floor. I quickly made the rather startling deduction that I had no affinity for detective work whatsoever, and would be better employed as a cat masseuese or a reviewer of fine peaches found on countertops. I was especially adept at eating said peaches in a way that demonstrated no capability for performing cunnilingus and only my ability to make disgusting slurping noises that made Nash visibly shudder. While I snacked I leaned back over the promotional Carol rug and murmured happily at Cate Blanchett's tender and loving smile. The image of Rooney Mara stared out at me blankly, leaving no strong impression. Something about her face, however, stuck out.

"Hey, Nash, what about this? Is this a clue?" I said, pointing at the rug. Upon Mara's face was a thin black moustache. Not the image of one, but a real moustache laying on the rug.

"That isn't a clue," said Nash, "It's part of my costume for my drag character, Graham Cocks. I just put it there because I didn't want it getting wet."

"Well, best laid plans, am I right?" I teased.

"Riese I don't have time to have sex with you right now. I just want to find my partner."

"Oh of course I totally get it! I mean I totally ship you two! But unrelatedly, would you like to check my tits for any cancerous growths or the like?"

Nash groaned and turned to give me an unimpressed look. She then looked back at the rug and suddenly her eyes lit up.

"Wait a second," she cried, "Since when does Cate Blanchett smoke a pipe? I don't remember that from the press tour!"

The two of us kneeled down and she picked the pipe up off the rug, turning it in her hand to my awe. It was wooden, dyed purple and varnished, with a thin bit and a huge bowl. I could see that it was decades old if not more. 

"There's only ever been one pipe like this, Riese," Nash spoke slowly.

Of course that was true. I knew exactly where I had seen this pipe. It was from a comic strip published in 1978. The strip attracted very little public attention for many years, and it wasn't until 2017 that the meaning of "The Pipe Strip" was uncovered, on some dark corner of the internet. The pipe was a symbol- religious, political, sexual, and economic, and the ones smoking it had been doing so without our consent for centuries. These "Fat Cats" controlled everything, even public perception of who was being wronged and how. Racists, anti-Semites, homophobes and the like all had their ideas but their eyes were opened when the truth began to spread like wildfire. Not everyone believed in its message, but those who came to trust in the strip formed a political force that couldn't be ignored, or even catered to. The only satisfaction the Arbuckles ever received was through bloody conflict. This was right as society fractured, and there was no faction they wouldn't fight: the QCF, the True Scum, the Sixth Reich, the Himbos, and most of all the Cat Men and Women.

"Riese," Nash continued, "Tell me now: is Jim Davis alive?"

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter