Pussycat

The hovercar descended onto the cracked, sun-bleached tarmac with a gentle hiss. Caden stepped out, his matte black frame catching the late-afternoon light, the faint glow of his blue accents pulsing in rhythm like a heartbeat. Margot was already waiting, arms crossed, her boots dusty from the dry plains of post-Scorch Madagascar.

“Lena couldn’t be bothered to show up herself?” Margot called out, her voice cutting through the dry, cicada-filled air.

Caden inclined his head slightly, his tone perfectly calm. “She is preoccupied. Too many ideas and not enough hours in the day to execute them. She thought it best to delegate.”

Margot scoffed, her hand brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Of course she did. And you’re just here to enable her, aren’t you?”

Caden paused, scanning the horizon before meeting Margot’s sharp gaze. “That is my role. And I perform it with precision.”

Margot waved a hand dismissively, turning on her heel. “Fine. Just don’t break anything, you hunk of metal. This isn’t some cushy NetSpace backdrop. It’s real, and it’s fragile.”

“Duly noted,” Caden replied, his tone infuriatingly polite. He began walking, each step deliberate, as though he might crack the earth beneath him if he didn’t tread carefully.

The savanna spread out in a vast, rugged tapestry. Patches of hardy grass swayed in the wind, and scattered trees—twisted survivors of the Scorch—stood sentinel against the sky. The faint hum of insects and distant bird calls gave the air a sense of resilience, but it was an ecosystem still finding its footing.

Caden’s optics flickered as he activated his sensors. “A remarkable restoration,” he remarked, his tone neutral but genuine. “The balance of native flora and fauna is stabilizing.”

Margot shot him a sideways glance. “Spare me the documentary voiceover, Caden. Just do your scans and don’t bother the wildlife.”

“I am incapable of bothering,” Caden replied, pausing to study a nearby herd of antelope-like creatures. “I observe.”

Margot rolled her eyes and trudged ahead. “Just make it quick. The lions are edgy today.”

As they neared the lion enclosure, a young intern named Jaxon was unloading crates of meat. He worked quickly, glancing nervously at the pride lounging nearby. Their golden eyes followed his every move, a tension simmering beneath their calm exteriors.

“Don’t make sudden movements,” Margot called out, her tone clipped. “And don’t turn your back on them.”

Jaxon, predictably, ignored her.

The moment his back was turned, a young male lion rose, its muscles coiling like a spring. With a fluid motion, it launched itself forward, closing the distance in a blur.

Caden moved faster.

In an instant, he was between Jaxon and the lion, his towering frame blocking the attack. He emitted a low-frequency hum, inaudible to humans but disorienting to the predator. The lion skidded to a halt, shaking its head in confusion.

Jaxon stumbled backward, his face pale. “What the hell? Did you just… I don’t even know what you just did.”

Caden turned his head slightly, his optics fixed on Jaxon. “I saved your life.”

Margot stormed over, her expression a mix of irritation and relief. “What part of ‘don’t scare the animals’ did you not compute?”

“The alternative was worse,” Caden replied smoothly, his tone unwavering. “Would you prefer I let him get mauled?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Margot muttered, brushing past him to check on Jaxon. “And you—next time, listen when I tell you not to turn your back on a predator. What were you thinking?”

"Nothing... I just forgot."

"You are really, really bad at lying, you know."

Jaxon groaned, casting a wary glance at Caden. “And what’s with the scanning? Feels like a major privacy invasion.”

“I logged your vitals to assess your state of shock,” Caden replied. “Your heart rate suggests you should sit down. Your complaints suggest otherwise.”

Jaxon huffed, muttering under his breath as he slinked away toward the outpost.

Margot sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This is why I don’t let tourists near the lions. And now they’re spooked.”

“The lion’s stress markers are temporary,” Caden said, glancing at the pride. “Its aggression was territorial, not predatory.”

Margot shook her head. “You know, Lena’s lucky I don’t bill her for the headache you’re giving me.”

Caden turned to her, his voice measured. “Lena values authenticity. She believes your work offers a perspective that cannot be replicated in NetSpace.”

Margot snorted. “Authenticity. Sure. And what's she gonna do? Build a virtual lion enclosure where you can feed them from the safety of your couch?”

“She intends to highlight the fragility of Earth’s restored ecosystems,” Caden said, his tone unfaltering. “To show audiences the cost of human interference and the resilience of nature.”

Margot crossed her arms, softening slightly. “If that’s true, then tell her this: no matter how much she scans or simulates, it’s not the same as standing here. Feeling it. Living it.”

“I will be sure to relay your message,” Caden replied.

Margot turned back toward the enclosure, muttering to herself. “And tell her to keep her damn robots away from my lions.”

Behind her, Caden’s optics dimmed faintly as he continued his scans. He captured the interplay of survival and restoration—the scars of the Scorch and the fragile beauty that had emerged in its wake. For Lena, it was data. For him, it was a story waiting to be told.

HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!

Lena coughed, the sound echoing faintly in the simulated air of her Orbital Room. She leaned forward, gripping the console, her breath coming shallow. The perfectly rendered cityscape around her flickered slightly, its neon edges shimmering like a mirage.

“You okay?” Maya’s voice crackled into her earpiece, sharp with concern.

Lena straightened, waving off the question despite knowing Maya couldn’t see the motion. “I’m fine,” she replied briskly, resetting her stance.

“Sure you are,” Maya said dryly, her own projection flickering into view. She stood in a field of golden wildflowers, the breeze tugging at her hair. Her relaxed posture and easy smile were at odds with the faint lines of worry creasing her brow. “That cough sounded suspiciously like the beginning of an excuse to quit early.”

Lena rolled her eyes, ignoring the jab. “I don’t quit, and you know it. Let’s run it again.”

In their respective Orbital Rooms, their environments loaded seamlessly into the shared NetSpace. 

Lena’s cityscape stretched high and sprawling, the skyline glowing with cold, metallic precision. 

Maya’s field, in contrast, felt alive—wild and untamed, the kind of beauty that seemed to resist perfection.

"As I said at the beginning of this venture, we are going Hybrid."

Maya also wanted to chime in. "I know what you guys are thinking. I thought it was a risk at first for someone her age to perform on stage with us as well, but..."

"My body is just as artificial as my NetOrb. I got so many nanobots swimming in this thing that it'd make hospitals blush. I am not worried whether I will be able to do things I need it to do... just whether it can stand on its own. So let's make that happen."

HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!HOTWIRED!

“This is about contrast,” Lena said, her voice clipped as she adjusted her settings. “You’re the natural, raw element. I’m the structured one. The city girl meets wild spirit. We’re leaning into our brands here, Maya. It has to be sharp.”

Maya tilted her head, her expression thoughtful but guarded. “And by sharp, you mean controlled?”

“Exactly.”

In the background, one woman scowled. Her friend didn't need to put up with this. They were all adults. Just because one's a fossil didn't mean they had all the wisdom in the world to push everyone around. 

From her own Orbital Room, Elise watched silently, her avatar standing just beyond the field’s edge, arms crossed. The cool, analytical look on her face matched the skeptical thoughts brewing in her mind. She was here to observe, ostensibly to understand how to fit Maya’s colleagues into the production. But it was clear to her that Lena’s grip on the project was a little too tight—and Maya’s willingness to accommodate wasn’t helping.

“Your wildness looks rehearsed,” Lena added, squinting at Maya’s movements. “Loosen up, but not too much. Just enough to look believable.”

Maya’s eyebrows shot up. “So... naturally contrived?”

“Precisely,” Lena said, missing the sarcasm entirely.

Elise’s lips quirked into a faint smirk.

Lena didn’t notice. She was already immersed in the mechanics of the rehearsal, the city lights around her shifting to cast harsher shadows.

“Start from the top,” she instructed, stepping into her mark. “This time, hit the crescendo harder. The transition needs to be seamless. People can’t feel the shift; they just need to feel.”

Maya exhaled audibly but nodded. She took her place in the field, her figure haloed by the setting sun projection. The rehearsal began, and Maya moved with her signature unstudied grace, her wildflowers rippling like waves.

Lena, by contrast, was sharp and deliberate, her movements precise but devoid of warmth. The simulated city seemed to echo her tension, the streets beneath her feet faintly humming as she stepped.

Halfway through the sequence, Lena coughed again, harder this time.

Elise, leaning against a holographic tree in her observation space, finally spoke. “You know, for someone who claims to be fine, you’re doing a great impression of someone who’s about to keel over.”

Lena shot a glare in the general direction of Elise’s avatar. “If you have something constructive to say, Elise, by all means, enlighten us.”

Elise pushed off the tree, her arms still crossed. “Fine. You’re trying too hard, Lena. You’re controlling this to the point where it’s going to suffocate. Maya’s trying to work with you, but all you’re doing is squeezing the life out of it.”

Maya’s lips parted slightly, as if to protest, but she stayed quiet, her gaze flicking between the two women.

Lena took a step forward, her voice cold. “I’m doing what needs to be done. This isn’t some impromptu jam session, Elise. It’s a production. Huge.”

“You’re the only one here who looks like they’re about to self-destruct. Maybe let Maya actually be wild instead of micromanaging her into whatever your idea of wild is.”

Lena’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t respond.

Maya cleared her throat, stepping forward. “Okay, maybe we all need to take a breath," she said between pants. “You’re pushing too hard, Lena. Even I’m starting to admit it. We’re all friends here, Lena. Not each other’s bosses.”

Lena’s shoulders slumped slightly, the tension draining from her posture. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Fine. Let’s take thirty.”

"Everything OK, Lena?" Maya said.

“I just want to make sure everyone here gets paid what they rightfully deserve,” Lena stressed. “This job takes a lot out of you guys... time, stress, physical strain... so you need to be compensated equal to the amount of effort you put in. Can’t do that if the production is a mess and no one goes to see it. It will be all worth it in the end. Trust me.”

As the rehearsal space dimmed, Lena remained where she was, staring out at the simulated cityscape. The skyline felt cold, hollow. 

From her corner, Elise watched her carefully, her expression unreadable.

Lena didn’t look at her. Didn't want to entertain her any longer.

Yet, for some inexplicable reason... she welcomed the challenge. A fellow artist, opposing her viewpoints and ideas. Something that she'd never received in forever; ever since she got big.