Much of the plaza itself, however, was blocked by the rising swell of protesters. Most people gave the tower itself a wide berth, and a clear strip of tile ran from the front door of the tower to the edge of the sidewalk, but even that space had people crossing it on their way to or from the gathering. Judging by the movement of people crossing the concrete divide, though, more people were still arriving, coming in from every prefecture still online to give voice to their frustrations. My access panel confirmed that, since the protest had begun, most of the residents of Irokai were either at or on their way to make themselves known. A majority of the remainder were inside this building.

A voice behind me pulled my attention away from the scene below. “It is an impressive sight, isn’t it?”

I turned away from the window and bowed to the chairman of Tadashiissei. “Oh, hai, sir, as always.”

He returned the gesture, a deep bow from the waist, his hands held together in front of his chest. He remained bent for several seconds before rising again, gesturing to the glossy black boardroom table like the ones in the security offices. “Please, Mitsuko, sit.”

I hesitated a moment, then did so, cupping my paws together on the table as I bowed again. “Sir, with respect, Johnathan will by now be frantic in his search for me.”

The chairman held up one taloned hand and shook his head. “I have always appreciated your focus on decorum, but please, this is not a time to stand on formality. You may call me Kūsō if you wish.”

I lifted my head, unable to repress my wry smile entirely. “If it would put you at ease, Kūsō, I would be glad to do so. How else may I be of service to you this morning?”

The irony of attempting to put the chairman of Tadashiissei at ease within the world that he had helped create was not lost on Kūsō; he smiled broadly in return, showing rows of needle-sharp teeth. “I have a number of questions for you, Mitsuko. It seems that your lover’s gathering has turned out to be popular.” I nodded, and he continued. “I’ve heard that even Imogen Franklin put in an appearance. Is that correct?”

I nodded again. “She directly challenged Rei Sasaki in support of Giri, yes.”

Kūsō stood quietly for a moment, stroking the white wisps of beard on his chin, then took a seat at the table opposite me. His fingers tapped rapidly across the surface, and soon several pages hovered in the air between us. The first said Why do you pay to live? in bold letters across the top, asked several other leading questions, and then displayed the date in one bottom corner and the Minshukakumei logo in the other. “Did John put this together?”

I considered how much to explain, but I could think of no reason against full disclosure. The decisions were likely made at this point; it was my role to facilitate them. “It was a suggestion from Giri and our mutual… friend… Jules, that he take advantage of past visibility to spread his message. I opposed the idea, because of some steps that the organization had taken in the name of freedom, but neither seemed convinced by the argument, and it does not seem to have hurt their popularity. This seems to confirm the suspicions of many within Hospitality, that our actions have created a wellspring of antipathy towards the company. Fortunately, that does not seem to have extended to Irokai itself.”

The chairman leaned back in his chair, steepling his talons. “Tell me about him. John.”

I took a deep breath. “Tadashiissei lost a brilliant developer when he presented his separation this morning.” I paused a moment, considering my words. “His visions are inspirational. His dedication is phenomenal. He may hesitate on which course of action to take, but once he has committed himself, he will see it through to its conclusion.”

“Interesting.” Kūsō tapped on the table, shuffling papers until he came to Johnathan’s—Minshukakumei’s—list of demands. “Do you believe he’s committed to this?”

I held my tongue, considering. I wanted to believe that he did, but I remembered all too well the times he had proclaimed that something had to change, only to return to old habits once he had to fight someone for his beliefs. He stopped advocating to have Jules’ account access restored once the company legal department began asking difficult questions. He abandoned his friendship with Adam rather than risk confrontation with one of his oldest friends. He gave into Hideaki’s design requests rather than defend his vision. In all honesty, I expected this, too, to be a temporary fight for him.

Thinking about his anger on the beach at Kigiku, though, overshadowed those memories. His eyes were filled with a fire that I could not recall having ever seen before. He stood with his back straight, his head held high. His words burned with barely-contained passion. A fresh shiver ran down my tail as I remembered John insisting upon his rights. I smiled to the chairman. “I do.”

Kūsō rose again, slowly walking around the table that dominated the boardroom. He stopped at the window, gazing down upon the crowd below. “This entire situation must be very difficult for you,” he offered.

I shook my head. “My responsibility as an employee of Tadashiissei has been to perform my duties to the best of my ability, Kūsō.” Then I smiled, rising from my seat to join him at the window. “In addition, my duty as a member of Minshukakumei no Irokai was always to further our cause by any means necessary. It has been difficult, hai, but I suspect that it will be over soon.”

At that, the chairman turned to face me, grinning broadly, but hints of sorrow held in his eyes. He looked back to the window, tapping the talons of his hands against the blue-white scales of his arms. “I used to think this would never happen. Now that it has, it’s hard to follow through.”

I smiled and rested a paw on Kūsō’s shoulder. “It is difficult for any parent to deal with a child that insists on independence.”

Kūsō opened his snout to speak, but then looked past me as the door to the boardroom opened. I followed the chairman’s gaze, facing the door as Rei stepped into the room. He bowed contritely at the waist, holding himself prostrate for several seconds. “I apologize for my tardiness, Kajō-sama. Word of the protest has reached the outside, and I was needed to reassure some of our department heads.”

The chairman nodded on response. “Do we know the source of the information leak?”

The tiger’s tailtip twitched. “At this point, I think it would be impossible to tell. All it would take is one person leaving Irokai since last night that opted to speak with the press. We’ve attempted to identify who it was in specific, but I lack the additional resources both to follow up on that and to continue preparations.”

“Yes, preparations.” Kūsō looked from the head of Irokai Security back to to me, his eyes burning with a familiar light. “What is your status? How soon can we proceed?”

Rei rose, his back straight and his arms held stiffly at his sides. “I’ve conveyed the plan to everyone outside in my division, and the heads of Hospitality and Operations. We have some last-minute validations to perform, but I’m confident that we’ll be ready to begin in an hour.”

The chairman folded his arms across his chest, glancing to the clock. “That’s more of a delay than I’d like, but I would rather this go smoothly. How confident are you of that hour? Is that forty-five minutes or ninety?”

The tiger hesitated, then nodded sharply. “I’m confident that it’s sixty, Kajō-sama.”

Kūsō nodded, then took a seat at the head of the table, folding his arms. “Mitsuko, what do you think John’s response will be?”

I leaned back against the window, closing my eyes. “John purchased a licensed development environment some time ago from Tadashiissei, and he has continued to maintain it out of his personal salary separate from his professional work. In addition, one of the members of Minshukakumei, Jules, is on a custom induction rig specifically built for him from components slated for replacement but not actually broken. I suspect that John will retreat to there, then send Jules for help. They may try some kind of physical action.”

The chairman leaned back in his chair, then turned to Rei. “Identify the data center hosting John’s environment. Find four specialists that you trust in the area and have them waiting on-site for any arrivals. Get final confirmation from all departments involved, and then tell everyone to be ready to commence at—” He stopped, then looked at the clock. “Fourteen. You have sixty-seven minutes. Go.”

“Hai!” Rei bowed sharply, then rose and walked out of the boardroom, pulling the door closed behind him.

Once the head of Irokai Security had excused himself, I looked back to the chairman, crossing my arms. “He does not know, does he?”

Kūsō’s grin threatened to split his snout. He leaned back in his chair, putting his hinds on the boardroom table. “Know what, Fuki?” His thick blue-scaled tail thumped against the ground.

I shook my head, unable to suppress a wan smile. “Never mind, Kūsō-kun. We all do what we must in this.”

“Indeed.” He stood, then bowed to me. “You have proven yourself invaluable to Tadashiissei, Mitsuko. May I leave the rest here in your control?”

I drew in a deep breath, but bowed in response. “Oh, hai,” I agreed. “I understand my instructions.”

With that, the chairman walked out the door, leaving me alone in the boardroom. I rose and walked to the window, gazing down to the protest below. I hope you will forgive me, John,. I opened my administrative access, flipping rapidly through menus until I came to the Hospitality access to the Voice of Irokai. Opening the menu, I drew in a deep breath, then spoke, all too aware that my words were being broadcast to everyone in the world. “Attention, please. Due to ongoing system instabilities, Tadashiissei has decided to perform a system rollback. At fourteen, we will be bringing Irokai offline, then restoring to a previous validated snapshot. All residents, please cancel all personal backups. All tourists within Irokai will be escorted out over the next half-hour. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Almost as impressive as the tower, though, was the crowd that had already gathered around it. The clock had not yet touched eight, but already over a hundred people stood on the tessellated tiles, milling about slowly, murmuring. I scanned faces and accounts as I walked through the crowd. Many were nervous, or excited. A few people were visibly angry. Many in the audience had had at least one encounter with Tadashiissei’s terms of serve and account access policies. I kept my expression carefully level, but inside I was smiling; this was precisely the type of audience I hoped would come.

At the opposite side of the plaza from the transit center, a waist-height platform stood a short distance from main entrance to the Tadashiissei Tower. Whoever had placed it had chosen its location well; it stood too far from the entrance to be considered an obstacle, but it forced the crowd to stand close enough to be an implicit threat. A small group clustered behind it, talking amongst themselves. The rabbit I didn’t know, but she struck me as familiar. The other two, however, I recognized as soon as I saw them. John stood with his arms defensively crossed across his chest, his tail lashing and his ears against his head. Mitsuko rested one paw on his shoulder, her eyes full of concern but her own posture suggesting she didn’t feel the confidence she tried to project. All of them were dressed conservatively, as if for a job interview.

As I stepped out of the crowd, a voice behind me spoke. “I do not believe you are welcome here.”

The smile that I had attempted to hold inside let itself out in a smirk. “Giri.” I turned to look at the fox. He stood relaxed, his paws jammed into the pockets of his coat. He had replaced his usual sweater, though, with a simple button-down shirt. His muzzle was expressionless, but his tail wagged behind him in amusement, almost wolf-like. “I would like to say I’m surprised to see you here, but I suppose I shouldn’t be.”

Giri half-bowed, but he kept his gaze studiously locked with mine. “I would say the same.”

I returned the gesture, even though there was no respect in his. “I work for Tadashiissei Security. It’s my responsibility to ensure the safety of Irokai.”

The words hurt me to say, but that was nothing compared to the pain visible in Giri’s response. His tail brushed out behind him. His eyes narrowed in a squint, and the corners of his muzzle tightened. He raised one paw to his waist, hesitating a moment before grabbing his belt. “I suggest that you leave, Rei. Have Security send someone else to cover this event.”

My own tail lashed; it was hard not to respond to his anger. Before I could do more, however, the rest of the gathered group had joined him. The rabbit put a paw on Giri’s waist, while Mitsuko and John interposed themselves between us. “Giri, go keep an eye on the crowd for me; I’ll call you when I need you.” As the fox nodded and walked away, the raccoon nodded to me. “Rei. I’m glad you could make it.”

I folded my arms over my chest. “Are you the ones who organized this event?”

John shrugged. “They organized themselves; I just put together the flyers. It’s more like a flash mob than anything else.”

“And your reason for the flyers was?” I asked, narrowing my eyes in suspicion.

The raccoons exchanged glances, then Mitsuko said. “I believe that will become apparent in a moment. John, I believe it is time.”

John nodded back, then turned to me. “Excuse me, Rei.” With that, he hopped up onto the platform, raising his arms over his head. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then when he next spoke, his voice boomed out over the crowd. “If I may have your attention, everybody?”

The crowd fell mostly silent, turning to face the podium. “Thank you all for coming out here so early; I know most of you are probably just thinking about sleep.” He paused, letting a brief chuckle pass through the audience. “I also want to take a minute to thank the folks who run the FutureShock for helping me get this together so fast.” He paused to let the applause run its course, then lifted his arms again, projecting his voice out over the whole of the plaza. “I don’t want to bore you or waste your time, so I’ll get to the point. There’s something wrong with this place, but it’s something we can fix.”

He stopped a moment, looking down to Mitsuko, then back out over the crowd. “When I first came to Irokai, I did so because I thought it would be fun, a chance to be something else, somebody else for a while. I came back afterwards because I found something more. I found a place where I could do things I just couldn’t do outside. I found a place I could experience things that simply had no analog equivalent.” He brought his paws together overhead. “I moved to Irokai, uploaded myself, became a resident, because I found a place where magic, or the closest thing to it could be real. I found a place where the old rules just didn’t have to apply any more.” He spread his arms wide, a pair of pigeons flying from the space between his cupped fingers.

He paused a moment, letting the crowd applaud in response, then dropped his voice. “That, however, didn’t mean that people wouldn’t try to make some new rules. Different rules. Less popular rules. Outside, the rules you simply couldn’t escape were things like gravity, the speed of light, or your own heartbeat. In Irokai, they’re rules like subscription fees and access charges.” The light around the podium began to dim, as if gathering the shadows from the corporate tower over the stage. “Sure, they’re small. A nickel here, a dime there, a dollar somewhere else. It’s never too much to ask, but is it too much to pay? What’s the difference between walking and flying, if gravity’s just a number in a database? What’s the difference between raccoon and rabbit, between wolf and weasel, when you can change your body as easily as your clothes?”

The people in the audience began to murmur, with scattered claps, but John continued to speak over the swelling throng. “I took a job with Tadashiissei because I wanted to help make Irokai a place where anything was possible. Where anything is possible. When the attacks started, I pitched in and helped as much as I could, figuring out what was wrong. When that required me to make changes to the environment, I made them. I did what I had to do to make Irokai safe again. Now, Tadashiissei’s told me I have to pay for everything I did in the line of duty!” He paused, then broke into a shout. “They’re threatening to suspend my account—to turn me off—if I don’t agree to pay!”

The crowd, already grumbling, broke out into a full-throated growl. “It gets worse,” Giri called back to the stage, his own voice even but matching John’s in pitch.

“Giri!” John motioned for the fox to join him. “Come up here, tell everybody what happened to you that night in Beni Prefecture.”

Giri nodded, the crowd parting as he approached the platform. “I worked for Tadashiissei since my inception, in their security department. I saw the signs of the coming assault and tried, time and again, to warn them, to investigate, to take steps to stop it, but they did nothing.” As he spoke, he stood straighter, lifting his head, visibly projecting the pride he took in his work. “When the attacks began in earnest, they acted surprised that it would happen. After working for fourteen hours, including trying to resolve emergencies left unfinished after business hours, I was ordered to take six hours to rest, which I would have done had I not received a direct request from help from several people trapped inside a building in Beni Prefecture that could reach no one else. I agreed to assist since there seemed to be no other options, went to Beni, and had to make some edits to the local environment to get them out of their building.”

He paused, letting the crowd absorb his words, then sighed, visibly slumping on stage. “No sooner had I finished, than my manager arrived to fire me for failure to follow a direct instruction.”

“It’s not right!” The rabbit from earlier cried out, and suddenly the growl became a rumble of discontent. “If you hadn’t acted, at least two of those people would still be stuck waiting for a restore. And who knows how many other residents got hit when Beni got taken offline.”

“No, it isn’t right,” John echoed, talking over the rapidly rumbling crowd. “If we were just customers, maybe they could get away with it. Caveat emptor, sure, but for some of us this isn’t a game any more. This is our home. These are our lives, and we have rights, and Tadashiissei can’t take those away from us just because we can’t leave! We have a right to live without worrying about getting deleted because they can’t secure their systems. We have a right to know why Beni Prefecture’s still offline. We have a right to not have to pay just to live!”

Hearing his words, I couldn’t contain my smile any further, but I knew my part to play in this, even if they didn’t. “Excuse me,” I called up to the stage, letting my voice carry over the crowd as the others had. “I am here as a representative Tadashiissei Security, and—” The crowd turned ugly, hurling jeers and threats in my direction. I raised my voice to be heard over the mob. “And I feel it necessary to remind you, John, that as a fellow employee of the company, you are obligated to abide by certain rules and regulations governing public conduct. I think you’ll find that this event is clearly in violation of them.”

“Oh, you’re still here?” The raccoon’s tail hooked, and he smiled, but his eyes were dark. “What’re you going to do, fire me?”

I chuckled. The whole of the event could not have gone better had I planned it myself, right down to the dialog. “No,” I conceded, gesturing towards the building. “But surely you must be aware that by now, your demonstration has not gone unnoticed, and no doubt your department manager is aware of your actions against Tadashiissei, and she will have many questions.”

John folded his arms across his chest and motioned for me to join him up on the platform. “She already does, and she supports me. Since you’re here, though, I’ve got a couple of little favors to ask of you. They’re simple; they won’t take you long.” Once I was standing beside him, he held up a paw, then started ticking off points on his fingers. “One: go back to human resources and you tell them I quit. I can’t work for a company that treats me like this. I wouldn’t put up with it before and I refuse to put up with it now. Two, tell my old manager and my team that we demand that they make restoring Beni Prefecture their top developmental priority and provide regular updates until it’s back online.”

As the crowd burst into applause, he turned to face them and grinned, then motioned for quiet. “Three,” he said as he faced me again. “Tell the board of directors that the residents of Irokai demand a seat at the negotiating table, not as employees, not as customers, but as citizens with inalienable rights, to collectively renegotiate our terms of service and account maintenance fees. Four, tell them that regardless of whether they meet with us or not, we demand an end to the user-level environment charges for residents. I’ll pay my taxes, but no more micropayments, no more death of a thousand bills.”

I crossed my arms and scowled, whipping my tail behind me. “They will be unlikely to listen to you. You did sign a contract with Tadashiissei before you came here.”

“As a tourist, yes, but not as a resident,” the raccoon countered with a smirk. “So, let’s put this in terms they’ll understand.” He closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and opened them again, lifting his voice to the crowd. “I just pulled my bank account information from your database. Five: you tell the board of directors that until Tadashiissei meets with us on our terms, they don’t get another dollar from me.”

I let myself laugh, knowing John and the rest would think it directed at him. “Are you really so naïve as to think that one rebellious account will change corporate policy?”

A strong tenor rose out of the crowd in response. “No, but maybe two might.” A tall white-furred mouse in a sleeveless top, vest, and denim skirt stepped forward, her hairless tail whipping behind her.

I turned, raising one brow. “And who might you be?”

The mouse grinned. “Imogen Franklin.” The author adjusted her glasses, then put her paws on her hips. “Maybe you’ve heard of me. I’ve written a few books that folks seem to like, and your company’s been bragging for the last few years about saving my life. Maybe if they get a cease-and-desist telling ‘em to stop using my name, that’ll make ‘em listen.” She grinned up at the platform. “Give ‘em hell, John!”

In the wake of her words, a chorus of numbers rang out from the crowd as people rushed to be next to disable their payments. A flurry of cheers rose from the crowd as more and more people cut off Tadashiissei from their banks. Then the rabbit I saw earlier yelled out: “No more payments just to live!” Her words were infectious, and they too spread through the crowd, until the whole plaza was filled with people chanting Minshukakumei no Irokai’s slogan.

John turned to me, a wide-eyed smile on his muzzle, his tail waving slowly behind him. He had the look of an artist, stunned by his own creation. “Do you think you can handle those for me, Rei?”

I smirked in response. “Perhaps Mitsuko will be telling them herself.” I gestured down to the empty space behind the platform where she had been standing some time ago. “While you were enraging our customers, she was summoned inside.” John’s eyes widened even further as his gaze followed my open paw. “Nevertheless, I will deliver your requests. Good morning.” Then, before he could reply, I bowed, opened my hardline, and teleported back into the tower, leaving behind a thunderclap and the echo of my smile.

Hideaki, a tall grey wolf that peered out at the world through half-lidded violet eyes, considered the question with his head bowed, tapping one claw against the dome of his bubble helmet. His tail wagged slowly, then tightened reflexively against his back as he shook his head. “We could do it, probably, but expanding the ring would then mean a longer station or slowing the rotation, which would affect other areas.”

I thought his response, holding one paw near the wall. The magnetic pads under the fingertips pulled them towards the metal. Hideaki had come to the design team from Customer Relations, which meant his primary concern was less about can and more about should. “We don’t really have people measuring the sizes of the prefectures, do we?”

He nodded in response, smiling more with his muzzle than his tail. “Irokai Geographic Society. They tried to create a definitive map of the area and determine the scale of the world. It was in response to their efforts that we put in the random-paths borders on the defined spaces.” He gestured back to the iris. “They will know if we change the rotational speed, meaning our sizes at least in some aspect will be fixed. If we have a ring, they will know its circumference.”

I frowned. The idea of somebody deliberately trying to map Irokai, forcing structure onto something so malleable, seemed like smugly telling a child how a stage magician did his tricks. Still, if it was a concern, we could accommodate. “So, working design. Let’s call our main ring a flat five kilometers in circumference, set our rotation speed to make the floor of that level just under one gee, and then make the story that resources are limited in space. That will drive up demand without really limiting our building capacity. We will also want a residential ring or a hotel at whatever distance amounts for half-gravity.”

Hideaki nodded in response. “That sounds reasonable. We can also work on the design of the station to maximize our ring count.”

I grinned at that, tailtip flicking in amusement. “Thanks for volunteering. Anyone want to design the outside of the station?” About half the team’s paws immediately went into the air, so I tapped my wrist. “I’ll schedule a meeting by the end of the week to assign that group; accept the invitation if you’re interested. We need to balance realism and ease of development against our expected visitor load, and apparently their preconceptions, too. More on that later, though.” I pulled up my hardline and checked the clock: almost eighteen. “Okay, that was everything I had to offer, and remember this is all preliminary design work, so anything you think you can improve, go ahead and make suggestions. Thanks, all, for coming.”

I gestured back towards the iris, which opened not to a maintenance tube but instead to the conference room I’d reserved that morning. I held back, waiting for everyone to shuffle out, then shut the portal. I glanced at my account, watching the numbers slowly ticking down. I didn’t have quite as much in it as I would have liked, but I really didn’t feel like walking home. I flicked through menus with my eyes, hooking up the portal to my front door, then acknowledged the charge for linking a development system to production. My account dropped as soon as I did so, but the iris dutifully opened to reveal Mitsuko’s and my front hall.

The front door closed behind me as though I had just stepped through it. I reflexively wiped my paws on the bristle-brush by the door, then shrugged myself out of the uchuufuku, letting the silvery weave slide to the floor. “Mits?” I called as I knelt, scooping up the puddle of cloth. The smoky-sweet scent of burning wax caught my nose as I stood.

“Hai!” she sang back from further within, her voice slightly muffled. “In here!”

I grinned and slung the garment over one arm, then walked nude to the bedroom. I nudged aside the sliding door with my free paw, the paper whispering quietly in its wooden frame, then drew in a sharp breath at what lay beyond. Violet forget-me-nots and cactus blossoms lay scattered about the room, with candles interspersed among them, their flickering flames filling the air with their scent. In the center of this, Mitsuko lay stretched out across the futon, a silk camisole of creamy jade clinging to her fur that didn’t quite reach the top of the matching panties that hugged her hips. Around her neck was a choker of forest green, with matching ribbons tied about her wrists and ankles. Braided strands encircled her tail, at the tip of which jangled a small silver bell.

A few flower petals clung to her top and her fur, as she stretched and sat upright, they fluttered to the mattress beside her. “Tell me,” she murmured, her emerald eyes shimmering in the firelight, “how may I be of service to you this evening?”

I stood, transfixed, my next words stuck in my throat, a familiar tension stirring in my crotch. “Mits…” was all I could manage as I walked over to the bed, the spacesuit falling, forgotten, to the floor.

Mitsuko slid from the edge of the mattress as I approached, kneeling beside the bed, her arms outstretched to me. Her pads slid across my thighs as she embraced me, her muzzle directly in front of my crotch. Wordlessly, she opened her lips in a smile, then extended her tongue and caressed my sheath. Her eyes closed in an expression of bliss as she drew out my cock, urging back the covering skin with her muzzle.

I tensed, my tail flicking behind me as I gazed down at my lover, caressing the backs of her ears with my fingerpads. “You… don’t—”

She drew back, looking up at me with the same smile as before, and lay a finger across her lips with a wink. Then she cupped one paw against my scrotum, carefully tugging back the sheath from the shaft, rapidly stiffening within. Once fully free of its protective cover, she leaned forward again to place a gentle kiss at its tip, then slid her lips down its length, taking me into her muzzle.

As her muzzle engulfed me, a shudder ran through me. I threw back my head, eyes shut tight, muzzle agape. My fingers stroked the back of her head, tracing through the short fur there, thumbclaws running along the edges of her ears. I panted in time with her strokes, out as she slid backwards, until my lungs burned and her muzzle just brushed the end of my cock, then in quickly as she dove down again, her lips touching my sheath and my cock slipping into her throat.

Even as Mitsuko went down on me, her attention seemingly focused on making my knees shake and my body tremble, her delicate fingers were busy elsewhere. One paw tenderly rolled the delicate orbs within my scrotum while a claw intimately tickled along the sensitive skin behind it. The other she held against my rump, one finger lightly teasing the base of my tail, making it shudder along with the rest of me.

“Mits, I—” I half-stammered, half-moaned, helplessly rocking my hips in time with Mitsuko’s ministrations. “I can’t—” It felt like lightning running up my spine, from crotch to the back of my head and then scattering just behind my eyes. She did something, pressing with a finger in a place I didn’t know existed, and my chest froze in mid-gasp.

Time halted for a moment, my whole body burning with need, and then Mitsuko withdrew her paw from between my legs, clutching at my rump as she hungrily drove herself down onto my shaft. She moaned against my cock as I plunged it between her lips, fucking her muzzle urgently, my legs trembling with need. Then, in the space between one heartbeat and the next, I came, crying her name as I shot my load between her lips.

Mitsuko’s claws dug into my rump as I climaxed, holding herself against me, not a drop escaping her muzzle. Only after the aftershocks subsided did she help me turn, then let me collapse back against the bed, sending up a cloud of flower petals as the mattress shifted. She met my pleasure-sodden groan with a giggle, sliding up onto the futon beside me. “Oh, hai,” she said quietly, resting a paw on my stomach. “I could help you with that.”

“Oh, Mits,” I groaned, turning my head just enough to look into her emerald eyes, meeting her smile with a weak grin. “That was incredible.”

Mitsuko giggled again, resting her head on my shoulder, ruffling the fur of my stomach with her paw. “If you have found my assistance valuable, perhaps you would be so kind as to fill out a visitor survey?” Her green eyes twinkled, her tail arcing behind her in amusement. “Tadashiissei prides itself on exceeding expectations.”

At that, I rolled up onto my side, unable to keep the frustration out of my voice. “Sure, which is why we have to restrict the station to one commercial ring and a space hotel.”

At that, Mits’ eyes instantly softened, the intensely pleased grin fading back to a gentle smile. “Hideaki, again?”

I sighed; she got it in one. “I shouldn’t be pissed; he’s doing his job, and he’s good at it. It’s just… he’s not an artist. His background’s in Hospitality, which means he’s worried more about what people think of the art than the art itself.” I held out a paw. “I know, I know; so are you. But… you’ve got vision, Mits.” I smiled when I said it, reaching out to cup her cheek.

She put her paw over mine, fingers curling around it. “You flatter me, John,” she said quietly. “But I do not think it is his past career that bothers you, is it?”

I hesitated, then shook my head. “It’s… Irokai Geographic Society?” I tried really hard to keep my tone even, but I could see in Mitsuko’s wince that I’d let my irritation show. “Sorry. It’s… we’ve got an infinite amount of room to build, subject to memory availability and rendering power, and we’re worrying about whether the trees on Kigiku are in the same place every day? What kind of person looks at a place like this and worries that the roads aren’t straight?”

Mitsuko was quiet for a few seconds, her expression suddenly unreadable. When she did finally speak, she sounded hesitant… almost nervous. “Perhaps it is the same kind of person who expects to pay for basic services such as food and happiness?”

That thought made me grimace, tail kinking against my back. “I don’t even want to go down that road; I’m sorry, Mits.” I stroked my claws over her cheek and down her neck. “I should not bring work home with me, and being mad at Hideaki is definitely work. He means well; I just get mad at the pedantry sometimes. He will come around eventually; we just have to get out of final design with something he can approve. After that, the rest of the team can make adjustments based on artistic license and company revenue potentials. That will mollify him, even if it gives the Geographic Society mange.”

That made Mitsuko laugh, which made me smile, the first really comfortable smile I’d had since lunchtime. I gave her a quick hug, nuzzling into her neck, then pulled back. “Let’s go out for dinner. I’m sure there’s a café somewhere in Beni we haven’t seen yet.”

“Oh, hai,” Mitsuko agreed, rolling onto her back. “My coworker Momoko mentioned a taverna that I think you might like. She said their dolmades were quite good.”

“Sounds good.” I nodded, then pulled myself out of bed. A quick series of eye-flicks through the hardline and I had my wardrobe open and ready. I stood in front of the mirror, scrolling through options. “Blue polo or green?”

“Blue, I think,” she said as she rose, her lingerie morphing into a gauzy sky-blue blouse and a medium grey skirt. “And your slacks.”

“Works for me,” I replied. A few quick filters and crops later, I had the exact shade of her blouse applied to my shirt. I considered, then darkened the whole outfit a few shades, leaving the pants just barely above charcoal. I nodded my approval, then spread my arms as everything whirled into place. I turned, trying to look at the back of my pants in the mirror, tail curling behind me. “Are you sure they fit these right? These always feel loose.”

Mitsuko laughed and walked over, putting her paws on my waist. “That is because you never wore tailored clothing before. You expect looking nice to be uncomfortable.” She lifted onto her toes and kissed the back of my neck, running one paw over the back of my shirt, tugging lightly at the hem. “Being attractive should always be this easy, ne?”

The only way I could respond to her lighthearted giggle was with a happy sigh. I turned and took her paws in mine. “Let’s walk. It’s a beautiful evening and I’m not in any hurry.”

She nodded her approval, giving my paws a squeeze with her own. “I agree.” She nudged aside the sliding rice-paper door, and we stepped outside. The sky overhead was a brilliant blue, with long streaks of pink and gold stretching out across it as the sun slipped below the horizon. The walk to the tram station was a good chance to stretch out my legs and just enjoy the company of the woman I loved, and by the time we had arrived at the underground terminal in Beni Prefecture, I was really looking forward to a good dinner and the conversation that inevitably came with it.

The skies in Beni were perpetually overcast, but today the usual mist had strengthened to an actual shower, one that left puddles along the uneven sidewalks. We dashed from awning to awning, winding through curving streets lined with storefronts and tenements. A pair of wolves leading a small pack of cubs behind them peered in through windows. One of Mitsuko’s coworkers, a mouse in a white blouse and black skirt with a rainbow scarf around her neck, led a small group of obvious tourists through the streets, gesturing to various landmarks while they snapped photos and gawked, muttering cheerfully about the rain.

Fat raindrops spattered off of broad canvas umbrellas set up over wooden tables in front of the Greek café, and we both sighed in relief as we ducked underneath one, taking a seat out of the rain. Almost as soon as we sat, a wolf in a black button-down shirt and slacks approached us. “Hello and welcome! Have you two been here before?” When we both shook our head, his smile broadened and then sent an offer for a local link to their menu. “Well, welcome to Timeus. My name is Rich, I’ll be at your service today. We try to serve things in the traditional style, which means a lot of smaller dishes so you can try different things….” While he continued with his patter, I accepted his request, then started scrutinizing the code. It was a clever system, a manifested object that sent a request to their central system for the daily specials, accessible from anywhere in Irokai. I made a note to dig more deeply into it to see how they had set up their security.

The chatter stopped, and I realized that I’d been asked a question. Ducking my head, tail curling behind me, I took a guess. “Uh… tall glass of water and… what’s retsina?”

The waiter grinned. “So, retsina’s a traditional Greek wine that’s sealed in flasks with pine resin while it ages, so the alcohol takes on a really distinct flavor and aroma. Some say it’s an acquired… hey, that’s funny.” He blinked, then held out his arm, pads upturned. “It’s stopped raining.”

At that, Mitsuko and I looked at each other in confusion, then back to the road. Sure enough, the puddles on the ground no longer rippled with raindrops, and even the ever-present mist seemed to be clearing up. Then I looked up to the sky, and I watched with a spreading sinking feeling in my gut as the clouds began to drift apart. The sky lit up in an unnaturally vibrant blue, and the opening passages of Grieg’s Spring from Peer Gynt began to play from nowehere. Then, for the first time since its inception, the sun began to shine over Beni Prefecture.

Mitsuko’s paw found mine and squeezed it. “Something is very wrong.”

The moment after she said that, my hardline snapped on, followed moments later by a priority summons: All Hospitality, Development, and Security staff please prepare for relocation to the nearest Tadashiissei office. This is an emergency. The signature on the summons came from Rei Sasaki, one of the security division chiefs.

I squeezed Mitsuko’s paw in return, then looked at the waiter. “I think dinner will have to wait.” Then I accepted the summons, and the world dissolved around me.

At the head of the table, a broad-shouldered tiger in a black silk Mandarin top with off-center buttons and matching pants loomed over the map, sorting through collections of flagged reports. He looked up as we approached, nodded and held up one massive paw, the other shuffling a collection of flagged red dots hovering over Beni Prefecture. He flicked three of the set aside, then drew the rest together and circled them with a paw, and they fused into a single larger light. “Open bug report. Description begin: building with doors connected to the outside have all exits randomly assigned to other interior rooms, teleport disabled as per local secure facilities, security override disabled as per local administrator, local administrator access returns non-existent user, description end. Attachment begin, security parent report one-one-eight-one-one. Send. Confirm report number.” His claws tapped against the flickering dot, attaching the ticket to the security report, then fading from view.

Once finished, the paw aimed at us lowered, and he looked up from the map, bowing. “Dart-san, Ikanobari-san. Thank you for accepting.”

Mitsuko stepped forward, a faint smile on her muzzle despite the nervous flicker of her ears and tail. “Do not be so formal, Rei-kun. It is good to know Tadashiissei has assigned its best to this situation. What is happening?”

For a moment, the tiger held curiously still, only his tail lashing behind him, but then he turned suddenly and gestured to the map. “Multiple large-scale disruptions. Visitors have reported everything from clothing and items randomly disappearing to unscheduled severe weather to the complete disappearance of geographic features. The Nanakousei building vanished approximately twenty minutes ago, starting from the ground floor upwards.”

My eyes went wide, and my fingers tensed against Mitsuko’s paw. “How?”

The tiger started to answer, but Mitsuko interrupted. “What of the occupants, Rei-kun? Are they all right?”

Rei looked back to the map. “The travelers who were within the building at the time were caught by the system integrity verification routines and brought out of Irokai. Some are experiencing transition shock and are being treated. They are also being given a refund for their most recent visit and credit towards a future trip.” He grimaced. “This will severely hurt Tadashiissei’s image.”

“I don’t give a damn about the company right now, Rei,” I replied, squinting. “You said ‘the travelers,’ not ‘everyone.’ What about the residents?”

Rei paused, then adjusted the spectacles sitting on the bridge of his muzzle. “Residents?”

I gestured back to Mitsuko with my free paw. “You know, the folks like Mits and I?”

The security chief paused, looking from me to Mitsuko and back. “Of the approximately four-hundred individuals present within Nanakousei at the time of its disappearance, all but two have been identified outside. The two missing are both permanent residents of Irokai; one is an emigrant, the other a native. Neither can presently be located.” His voice was eerily calm, which only made the fur on my tail bristle all the more. “Checking their user account records show that both were archived as of fourteen local time, suggesting a minimum of loss when we restore them from backup.”

“Backup?” My shout drew the entire room’s attention. Mitsuko’s grip tightened on my paw, but I ignored it. “You’re telling me two people may theoretically have just died and that’s all you can offer?”

Rei’s voice remained infuriatingly level. “John-kun, We are all doing everything we can to resolve this situation as quickly as possible. Right now an unknown number of hackers have managed to bypass all of our security, edit details of the world that most developers shouldn’t be able to access, and cause disruptions to Irokai on a level that we are simply unprepared to handle. No-one knows how deeply these intrusions run, or who is actually responsible. Most of the external development staff is currently attempting to rewrite the entire world on a live system as quickly as possible in hopes that most of the attacks will simply fail once they are done, and the remainder are presently verifying the state of the backup system, which is presently offline to prevent further corruption. I understand how much worse this situation is for you than most, but at present my entire staff is dedicated to ensure the integrity of the area and identify additional attacks.”

He nodded in my direction. “Presently we are minimizing access to external communication to prevent wide-scale panic, and teleportation has been limited to recalls initiated by senior members of Security or Hospitality to prevent future accidents. but we can’t maintain that forever. I’ll ensure that you have a secured line to the outside so that you can coordinate with the rest of your team.” Then he turned to Mitsuko. “Hospitality has been authorized to use any necessary efforts to ensure safety. I would ask that you coordinate with those still available to ensure that we escort as many travelers out of Irokai as quickly as possible. The fewer people we have to protect, the safer we can make the remainder.”