3G: the Glowing Green Goo

The train started slow, but accelerated surprisingly quickly. The dotters couldn’t tell what the cruise speed was, but it was certainly faster than the average light road. Noisier too; whatever was going on in the motor-wagons, the friction of the wheels and other moving parts, the occasional discussion between passengers, all combined to make a bustling ambience.

Unlike what one might presume, it wasn’t overwhelming or unpleasant. There was even a comfort to be found; feeling the living crowd around them.

They quickly crossed several bubbles, marked by their stops. Looking by the windows, the only distinction was the abundance of pink in one of them, in the buildings and the people. Not always the same pink, so it was probably not a mere matter of building material. An aesthetic choice?

They eventually reached their stop. Like the others, this station hugged the dot’s metallic wall, with a twin dais on the other side of the tracks. Like some others, there were other stations for other carriers nearby, but with a lot more options than the previous ones. It was impressive; this bubble had to be enormous.

“This bubble has one of the most extensive networks of public transport.” Their guide confirmed. “It’s a lot bigger than an average bubble, but everything is easier to reach. Decisions from past governors also made it a haven for start-up companies, and for some reason, none of the Families took it over. Adult businesses can thrive here.”

“Adult businesses? There are child businesses?” Aran picked up.

“Not exactly, it’s just…” Bathor paused, looking for the right words. “Many people start a small company specifically to be noticed by a bigger one, or a specific one, and their business are usually subsumed or disbanded when they do. If they do.”

“If not, it depends. They can keep going, thrive or fail like any other, or be sold to recoup losses and maybe try again.” Suisen completed, earning a surprised glance from his colleague.

“Exactly. They’re totally legit businesses, complete with employees on payrolls, goods or services, everything, but the quality ones don’t stay independent for long, and they were never meant to. They’re called ‘training business’, like ‘training wheels’. The others are called ‘adult business’, because adults don’t need no training wheels.”

The metaphor made them chuckle.

“That’s most activation coaches, by the way.” Suisen added. “It can easily lead to a mountain of debt, it’s one of the riskiest businesses, but it’s an opportunity to show what you’re worth, what kind of results you get, at no initial cost for the sponsor Family. It rarely works, but when it does, your future is set, and it’s still the surest way to ‘get in the circuit’, so to speak.”

Sponsor?

“I remember, Bathor told me good coaches tended to be exclusive and recluse.”

“They are.” Suisen nodded in confirmation. “This bubble is close enough to the access point to have an abundance of low mutants, but far enough to have a lot of 3G in circulation. The ideal place for an activation coach to launch their career. There are a few start-ups havens in the Circle, but this one has more wannabe-coaches than any other.”

“Which also makes it one of those with the highest spread of mutation in the population. It made a lot of noise when our appointment announced they’d stay independent. Nobody wanted to believe it, but it was an adult business from the start. The dojo we’re going to is close to a shuttle stop, but we shouldn’t be late if we just walk there. That way, we wouldn’t have to do it later, if you want to see everything.”

A vote led to them walking; all three dotters were curious.

The bubble was… not as different as expected, actually. The road was wider, with vehicles instead of magnetically levitating people. Stone was prevalent everywhere, instead of metal. Authentic trees replaced the artificial, comfort ones, but there were less than expected. They weren’t protected either, anyone could touch them. The flashy buildings were separated by ill-lit, walkable alleys, they had more floors, and generally had a larger base area than individual business units, although they often shared that space between several companies.

The most eye-catching part was the general mutations. It was a matter of course, but that didn’t make seeing it in person any less impressive. Everyone had something, even if it wasn’t always obvious. Exotic eye and hair colour were the minimum. Complete animal ears or horns were common. Eyes, less so, but Zax’s nanites still spotted some. Where dotters had fur or scales in splotches, people here had full limbs covered, complete fingers, mittens, hands, even arms.

They knew how to brandish it naturally too, without boasting. Their guide’s clothes, or lack thereof, had been a clear example, but seeing bustling streets of people with holes in their outfits, or even eschewing pieces entirely, to show furry legs or leathery arms, was another experience. Some of those clothes had not been altered to be what they were, they had been designed from scratch to highlight specific parts of the wearer’s body. Actual thought had been put to the cross-lacing around this woman’s trunk, for no other discernible reason than highlighting her still-hardly-visible stripes. It wasn’t impossible to make similar adjustments on the standard issue, but it wouldn’t be cost or time-effective.

It wasn’t hard to figure out what their horned vanguard meant by ‘spread of mutation’ either. The most mutated specimens had full paws for feet, having digits and nails were the only human traits left on their hands, not-skin reached their shoulders and thighs, and the telltale signs of deeper mutations: inhuman eyes, fangs and tongues, partial nostrils or proto-muzzles, unusual posture, body spikes... usually more than two of those. The most obvious of the less mutated passersby only had off-coloured eye or hair colour, or the normal patches of not-skin, and they wore what the dotters would consider complete outfits.

The more advanced didn’t reach Cat and Dog’s level – Vester and Ertor – but the less advanced could easily pass for dotters. The textbook example of advanced mutation and barely mutated, yet all mingled normally. They simply walked side by side, went to the same places with the same or at least similar vehicles, spent units in the same shops, played and discussed together.

Zax was too caught up in the sea of mutation to ponder if this bubble had been chosen on purpose. If he had, he would have congratulated the negotiator; it did wonders to soften his defences. Not to lower them, but he would be more receptive to what they had to say.

Instead, he was focused on pushing his nanites to the limits of their processing ability, recording and sorting more data than ever before. Advancement wasn’t the only variety; there were all kind of alterations too. He was glad he had already increased the amount of nanites in his body, it made them significantly more capable. Luckily, his recent experiments already bore fruits; without them he would have definitely been overwhelmed.

He didn’t have a monopoly over excitement either, Aran and SG kept pointing and calling to every strange or colourful shopfront they passed, which was most of them. The variety was impressive too. A small clothing shop sat next to a middle-sized general store, which included a partner seed stall for people who wanted to grow their own plants. After them, an empty building was being moved in. According to the banner along the façade, either an adult toy shop or a custom furniture maker was preparing for its grand opening, in two days. The name could be interpreted both ways, but they couldn’t tell is it was on purpose.

The global layout didn’t make sense, but that was probably because most businesses didn’t last long enough for the managers to bother organising.

“And that one?”

“Gasp!”

The two front guides couldn’t help but inhale sharply when SG extended a wing to point a nearby sports gear supplier. Even their stalwart rearguard widened his eyes in surprise, the most emotion he had shown so far.

“What?” asked Aran.

“True wings!?” The horned woman whisper-yelled.

“I thought it was a cloak or something!” Suisen added in the same tone.

“Me too!” Bator insisted.

Their target quickly folded her wings back and sunk on herself.

“Will that be a problem?” Zax and Aran defensively stepped closer to her.

The gawkers exchanged a glance, wordlessly pushing for Bathor to answer:

“Well… no, it’s just, shocking, you know? You mentioned your guests having interesting mutations, but I didn’t expect… that! Fully converted limbs are exceptional, even here. I only saw it in pictures at school.”

“And in those pictures, the rest of the body was heavily affected too.” Suisen concurred. “Enough to change their whole posture, at least. But you seem so… human in general.”

“With those conspicuous, well-formed, not stealthy at all talons?” Aran pointed out.

Their idea of what humans are like without mutations is a bit off.

“And I wasn’t talking about her.” Zax corrected.

“How did you do?” Gatoro ignored the remarks.

Everyone forgot their shock and turned towards him. It was the first time he spoke since their meeting. For some, the first time hearing his surprisingly deep and smooth voice.

“Well?” Velvety, almost.

SG stayed silent and turned her eyes away, prompting Zax to clear his throat:

“Mhm. Like every mutation, we can only theorise on the why and how. In this case, it also happens to be a sensitive topic. Please don’t insist on the question. Thank you.”

An awkward silence filled their walk for a moment, but Suisen had other ideas:

“Can you fly?” He asked. “I know it sounds crazy, but-”

“She can’t, but close enough!”

Aran pounced on the occasion to brag about her friend’s acrobatic skills. She tried showing some recordings, but as expected her bracelet frizzled three seconds after she turned it on. The smoke coming off it killed what little hope of a demonstration remained in her. The rest of the group chuckled at her expression. She had to be content with energetically miming their lessons as she described them.

Time flew, and the dojo was soon in front of them.

At first glance, it was nothing special. Among the largest buildings they had come across, but nobody was coming in or out. The wide logo above the entrance and window shop, spelling the name “Garuza’s Dojo Arcade” in eye-catching font, with the catchphrase below: “Ludic activation coaching: mutating had never been so amusing” left no doubt about what it was. It certainly attracted attention, but not more than the other places of similar size.

At second glance, the logo had some rust on the edges and at the junction with the wall. Small tufts of grass and weeds dotted the angle with the sidewalk. The wall paint was faded, which was made more obvious by the freshly tagged mural around the windows. Even that freshness was only relative to the rest of the wall.

It resulted in a building that, while clearly well-maintained and active, wasn’t shy about its own age. Quite a contrast with the surroundings, who went to great lengths to appear as brand-new as possible.

Is it on purpose?

“Dojo Arcade?” SG uncharacteristically asked aloud.

“Games and martial arts? Or sports in general?” Aran proposed.

“It would fit, but it seems mostly aimed at children.” Zax stated.

“That’s it, but I didn’t notice that many children here.” Bathor claimed as she reached the double door.

A reception desk stood behind the entrance and to the right. An opening further behind it revealed a short hallway labelled “Activation Rooms”, which revealed a door marked “staff only” and hid the rest behind a left turn. On their left was a room full of various gym equipment named “Physical”, and in the middle was a room filled with all kind of games named “Mental”.

Everything was easy to identify, just different from what could be found in the dot. None of the signs or labels were screens, just a hard material. Not metal, something softer and smoother. Everything besides the walls made at least some effort to appear wood-like, even the doors and the furniture. The lighting wasn’t the usual glowing mould on functional bulbs, but strongly glowing panels; probably a stronger variant of the strain the dotters were used to. The resulting atmosphere felt, strangely alive for something so motionless.

What wasn’t motionless was the people. While the lobby was deserted, both open rooms were quite dynamic, with metallic noise and people grunting in effort or shouting encouragements. They couldn’t be seen from the reception, and the sounds were muffled, but they couldn’t be missed.

The horned directly went to the receptionist, a barely teenage girl without obvious mutation, and introduced them:

“Hello. Bumper Mediator Services, we have an appointment to see Garuza.”

“We’ve been warned.” The young girl rummaged around papers they couldn’t see and nodded with an adequate customer service smile: “I’ll tell them you arrived. Feel free to see and test everything this floor has to offer.”

This floor?

“This floor?” Aran said aloud what others thought silently. “There are others?”

It fit with the size of the building, but that wasn’t the point:

“Yes. This floor has a great variety of standard equipment to train body and mind, on your own or in a group. From musculation to puzzles to video games, anything recognised as having an effect on the results of a 3G activation can be found here. The other floors are for more advanced or specialised services; mutation consultations, direct coaching, training programs, less-standard gear, that kind of thing.” The receptionist readily slipped in a rehearsed speech. “That’s where the boss is right now, but they should be here shortly.”

The visitors nodded their acceptance and followed the proposition. Both main rooms were similar, with various machines filling as much space as safely available. The gym side had more mechanical ones; there just weren’t many options for video games without electronics. Serious efforts had been made in that direction however; the crane games were all dials, cogs and levers.

It really was a gym and a gaming room gathered in one place. Openings in the adjacent wall let visitors move directly from one to the other. Chairs and benches were laid out along the walls, to rest between sets and sessions or to watch the users. It explained why the lobby didn’t have a waiting area; people had to see the inside to rest, it was like free advertisement. Paper posters on the side of each machines displayed a manual or game rules, ratings on how it could affect the user’s next activation, and recommendations for beginners.

Among the people milling around, Zax had expected more younglings in the arcade room and young adults in the sport room, but they were about evenly split, and none could be called children. The new visitors were discussing what to try first when they were startled by an androgynous voice behind them:

“Bumper Mediator Services, I suppose.”

They turned around, revealing a tall and muscular man, covered head to toe in dark russet fur, except for the yellowish-orange beak taking up half his face, and the similarly coloured soft scales of his talon-like hands and feet.

The imposing man glanced at each of them in turn, keeping Zax for last.

“We finally meet again.” He sounded… relieved, somehow, but that wasn’t what caught Zax’s attention. “I’m-”

“‘xX_Lil-Big-Birdie_Xx’?” The one-word question left Zax’s mouth without his input.

“… ‘123-YOLO*man-789’!?” Their long-awaited appointment answered in shock.