“Come on! That’s not a dog! You’re pulling my leg!” She said with a small shudder, blue eyes flashing between me and Calvin.

  “Hold on,” Calvin smiled and then dug into a box in the corner. He pulled out a 2025 ‘Dogs’ calendar and shoved it into Nessie’s arms. She flipped through the pages, her mouth falling open, eyes wide in shock.

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” I said. “See? These are our dogs. That’s a husky. That’s a terrier. That one is a poodle. We keep them as pets.”

  "So you're saying in your world I would've been... what? Just your pet?!" Her voice dropped to a horrified whisper.

  "Well, technically you were my grandfather's dog, but—"

  "This is insane!" Nessy jumped up, pacing the small room. "I graduated from trade school! I fixed engines! I wrote you a song! I wasn't just some... some glorified teddy bear!"

  "Actually," Calvin interjected, calmly spooning more beans into his mouth, "you were probably both of those things, just in different worlds. And now those worlds have collided." He clapped his hands together. "The question is... what are you going to do about it?"

  “What are you suggesting we do exactly?” Nessy asked.

  She looked perturbed, probably how I appeared after staring at her phone gallery photos.

  “You should… head to a time and place that both of you care about,” Calvin said. “A destination. A location.”

  “What location?” I asked.

  “A place that both of you know so well you can picture it in your mind. A location where you can make your domain and build a foundation to persist longer!”

  “Why?” Nessy asked.

  “To safely venture out of it on fetch quests and whatnot!” Calvin declared.

  “Fetch quests?” I sputtered.

  “From people and other sapient entities,” Calvin nodded. “Every adventurer needs a home base to relax between dungeon delving trips. See? Like my office. This is the best way to survive. At least that’s what the eyes show me. They haven’t deceived me so far.”

  Nessy’s eyes lit up. “Ferguson,” she said with determination. “We’re going back home. To Ferguson.”

  I eyed her.

  “What? You’d rather stay here? In… uhhhh… wait… what’s this city called again?” She asked.

  I opened my mouth and found nothing in my memories. Just a blank space. Emptiness. An unnatural void, like a missing tooth.

  “Huh. I am not sure,” Calvin scratched his beard. “I think that someone or something devoured its name recently since I cannot recall it either. That might be a big quest for me, come ‘morrow! Find the city’s name!”

  He snapped his fingers.

  “Here we go,” he said. “Got it. Excellent.”

  I blinked at him.

  “Just gave myself a Quest,” he explained. “Going to get a big reward from the System if I accomplish it. Maybe a sword that can cut through anything. Maybe a gun that can kill concepts. Something swank, I hope!”

  I turned my attention back from the potentially insane tinfoil hat man to the dog-person.

  “Can you even find the way back to Ferguson?” I asked.

  “If I can get more… Scrutiosmia points… I’m pretty sure that I can,” she said.

  “My Ferguson or yours?”

  “Probably mine,” she said. “You don’t want to go to yours, right?”

  “Not really,” I said. “There’s nobody there for me… if they’re even alive.”

  “Then we’re going to the Ferguson I remember,” she said. “I’m bringing you back home! Yay!”

  “Yay? And if there’s another Alec there?” I asked. “What then? Gonna throw me to the sapient wolves?”

  She made a ‘what the hell is wrong with you’ face at me.

  The last rays of sun flashed through the office window and the room began to grow dark.

  Calvin clapped his hands together. "Well! Sounds like you two have some things to work through. Fortunately, you have time. The mini-mart is safe—my domain, as I mentioned. Protected by my artifacts. You're welcome to stay the night or two if you wish."

  Nessy's ears perked up. "Really? That's incredibly kind of you."

  "A bit selfish," Calvin admitted with a wink. "It's quite nice to meet other Linear beings and to hear their curious tales to understand more of Systemfall. Most of what wanders by these days is... less coherent and needs to be put down." He stood up, gathering our empty bowls. "Got a storage room next door with an air mattress. Not the Ritz, but hey, it’s better than sleeping in the rubble."

  “Other than a destination… what else would you suggest that would help us survive out there?” Nessy asked.

  “Ah. Right. Those Core stats of yours you mentioned," he said. "Reconstitution at zero—that's a problem. And your Scrutiosmia is going to run out soon, dog-pal. You'll need to figure out how to refuel those if you want to survive. This is very essential stuff.”

  "How do we do that?" I asked.

  "That’s different for everyone," Calvin explained. "Core Affinities are tied to your essence—your fundamental nature. Your mojo. For some, they recharge naturally over time. Others need specific actions or substances." He tapped his tinfoil hat. "My Foresight, for instance, refuels when I meditate under moonlight while peering at reflective things."

  "Reflective things?" Nessy tilted her head. "Like... mirrors?"

  "Sometimes," Calvin nodded. "But also shiny metal, reflective tape, even water from certain puddles that reflect the sky particularly well. It has to be a new surface each time. The System has a poetic logic to it."

  I frowned. "So what would fuel Reconstitution?"

  "Maybe… something symbolic of rebirth," Calvin mused. "Death and renewal. Phoenixes, compost, seeds sprouting—that sort of thing. Or perhaps more literally, biological material you can incorporate?" He grimaced. "Though I wouldn't recommend cannibalizing others unless absolutely necessary."

  "And my Scrutiosmia?" Nessy asked, her tail swishing with interest.

  “Don’t know. You'll have to experiment." He tapped the side of his nose thoughtfully. "Oh! I know! You should construct an artifact to help you find your ‘fuel’. Or an artifact that will amplify your sniffing power in a particular direction. That’ll help you find your special magic juice for sure.”

  "Like a dream catcher but for smells?" I asked.

  Nessy's ears perked up.

  "Exactly!" Calvin beamed. "See? Now you're getting it!"

  He stood up suddenly, stretching with a series of alarming pops from his spine. "Come on, let me show you where you'll sleep tonight."

  We followed him out of the office and across the mini-mart to a door marked "STORAGE." Unlike the rest of his domain, this door lacked the sensory organ drawings, save for a single ear sketched in the corner.

  "It listens for trouble," Calvin explained, catching my questioning glance.

  The storage room was a cramped space filled with shelves of cleaning supplies, piles of boxes, broken electronics, and miscellaneous junk. In the center of the floor sat a surprisingly clean air mattress, already inflated, with two mismatched blankets folded at its foot.

  "It's not much," Calvin said, "but it's safe. The whole mini-mart is warded—nothing gets in without me knowing." He pointed to various objects around the room. "Feel free to use anything you find useful. Got hand sanitizer, some old clothes in that box, tools over there. Bathroom’s right outside. No shower though. There’s sponges and a bucket if you want to wash that blood off ya."

  Nessy was already nosing through a stack of magazines in the corner, her tail wagging with curiosity.

  "One more thing," Calvin added, his voice dropping lower. "Dreams are different now. More... tangible. If you find yourselves sharing one, stay together. The dream-spaces often connect to... elsewhere." He tapped his tinfoil hat meaningfully. “Get lost in a dream and you will never wake up. I reckon that you two are bound together for a reason. Rely on this connection, learn to wield it.”

  "Right," I said, not entirely sure what to make of that dire warning.

  "Well!" Calvin clapped his hands. "I'll leave you to get settled. There’s more pillows in that box. Drawing supplies are in that there box. This here box has sticky notes and sketchbooks if you wish to spend the evening experimenting with Artificery and Depictomancy.”

  “Thanks!” Nessy bobbed.

  “May your dreams be hearty and your slumber undisturbed by the infinite abyss!" With that peculiar blessing, he backed out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

  I looked at Nessy, who had already claimed the left side of the air mattress and was arranging the blankets into what looked suspiciously like a nest.

  "So," I said, "that happened. We… found a tinfoil hat guru.”

  "What? I think he's kind of nice. Smells honest too," Nessy replied, continuing to arrange her blanket nest with methodical precision. "And he gave us food. And shelter. And wisdom! Did you hear all that neat stuff about artifacts and domains?"

  "I'm still digesting the part where he confirmed you're from an alternate reality where animals run society and work salaried jobs," I muttered, lowering myself to sit at the edge of the air mattress.

  As Nessie procured more pillows. I pulled out the small notebook and a pencil.

  The bearded man had insisted I try my hand at "Depictomancy" as he called it. Something about visualizing concepts to better understand the System's rules.

  The pencil felt comfortable in my hand—drawing had always been a minor skill of mine, though I'd never pursued it seriously. I began with a basic eye, trying to mimic the style of Calvin's sticky note drawings. My first attempt was too detailed—a realistic human eye with shading and an iris.

  "Too much… maybe," I muttered to myself, flipping to a fresh page.

  I tried again, this time making a simpler symbol—just an oval with a circle inside it. I stared at it, waiting for... something. A flicker of power. A connection to the System. Seeing stuff through the drawing?

  Anything.

  Nothing happened.

  I tried an ear next—a curved shape with inner details. Then a nose. A mouth. Each drawing was neat, precise, and also… completely lifeless. Just graphite on paper, no matter how long I stared at them.

  "Wat'cha doing?" Nessy asked, abandoning her pillow-fort nest-building to crowd against my shoulder, her nose twitching rapidly as she leaned in to inspect the notebook.

  "Trying to understand how this artifact thing works," I replied, flipping to a new page with a sigh. "Calvin said visualization helps, but so far I'm getting nowhere. None of these feel... alive."

  I gestured to my earlier failed attempts at sensing organs before starting a new sketch, trying to visualize what Reconstitution might look like—something between roots, veins, and lightning.

  Nessy's nose dipped closer to the page, inhaling deeply as if she could somehow smell the meaning of my drawings. She shifted constantly, unable to stay still, her shoulder pressing into mine as she angled for a better position. Without warning, she circled behind me, chin coming to rest on top of my head as her paws found my shoulders, kneading unconsciously against my muscles.

  "You're pretty good at drawing," she commented, her breath warm against my scalp, nostrils flaring with each inhale. She leaned even closer, practically draping herself over my back now, a low, contented rumble vibrating from her chest. “Maybe they need to be more… personal or something?”

  “Maybe,” I sighed but didn't push her away. The weight of her against my back was strangely comforting despite the invasion of space. When I paused drawing to erase a line, her head tilted sharply, one ear brushing my cheek as she tracked the movement of my hands with intense focus.

  "Could you maybe back up a little?" I asked, continuing to sketch. "It's hard to draw with you breathing down my neck. Literally."

  "Oh. Sorry." She perked up, momentarily alert, then circled around to settle beside me.

  This lasted approximately two seconds before she began to fidget, her hip nudging mine repeatedly as she tried to get comfortable. Her nose darted forward to sniff at my hand, then the pencil, then the edge of the paper, as if cataloging each object's scent. Her tail thumped rhythmically against the mattress, creating vibrations that made my lines wobble. One paw absently batted at the corner of the notebook, seemingly fascinated by the slight movement.

  "Is this better?" she asked, stretching her neck to hover her nose directly above the drawing.

  It wasn't, but I decided to ignore it, focusing instead on my drawing.

  I'd moved on to sketching out letters, words and random symbols that I thought would have some meaning or power.

  "So," Nessy began, watching my pencil move across the paper, "when you made your companion wish, what exactly were you hoping for? I mean, before you got stuck with me instead of one of your weird four-legged doggos."

  “I told you already. I just asked for…”

  “No,” she shook her head. “I want to know your thoughts. Not just whatever you said, but what you were thinking about.”

  "I wanted something familiar," I answered honestly, not looking up from my sketch. "Someone I could really trust."

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "A pet," she translated, her voice carefully neutral.

  I paused my drawing, considering her words. "Not just a pet. A friend. Nessy—my grandfather's husky—saved my life. She was... uncomplicated. Loyal. Safe."

  "Unlike humans," Nessy observed softly.

  "Unlike humans," I agreed. “Humans have agendas and selfish needs.”

  “Look at you insulting humans, Mister human,” she teased.

  “I'm allowed to insult my own species,” I fired back. “‘Sides I'm just as selfish and miserable as the rest of 'em.”

  “Uh-huh, sure,” she said.

  “Hey, if your world doesn’t have animals as pets, then what are you imagining when I say a ‘pet’?” I wondered.

  “Insects... like spiders. Fish. Anything moist and aquatic really,” she said. “Pradavarians all evolved from land mammals and dinos. Intelligence and walking upright sorta stalled in the sea.”

  “Why?”

  “I dunno,” she shrugged. “I’m not a marine or evolution scientist. I’d google it, but my phone's got no network, so that’s that.”

  She fell silent for a moment, watching as I sketched a rough approximation of my stats window, trying to visualize how Reconstitution might recharge.

  It didn’t seem to do anything. Maybe sketching magic shit wasn’t something that I could do like Calvin due to lack of Foresight or whatever.

  "What about you?" I asked, glancing sideways at her. "You said you made a wish too, right? To find… your friend?"

  Nessy's ears twitched, and she shifted her weight, momentarily giving me some breathing room before unconsciously pressing against my side again.

  "I wished to find you," she said simply. "My best friend."

  Something in her tone made me set down my pencil and turn to face her fully. Her blue eyes held a depth of emotion that made me uncomfortable—not because it was unwelcome, but because it was directed at someone who wasn't me. Not really.

  I didn’t say anything and simply stared at her. She inhaled deep and shuddered, blinking rapidly, eyes wet.

  “I… I get it…” she sniffed. "I'm not stupid. I saw the ‘dog’ calendar... I know you're not the boy I lost," she said, her voice growing stronger. "I know we don't share childhood memories, those promises he… made." She let out with a whine. "But my nose found you, across roads that don't go anywhere, through the wreckage of reality itself. It found you… not him.”

  I sighed.

  “I…” She seemed to teeter on the precipice of a breakdown. “If I found you and not him it must mean… something. I don’t know what exactly, but… you smell exactly like him and you act like him so there’s that. You’re the Alec I remember from Ferguson and it’s driving me nuts… I’m… I’m really struggling to deal with the dissonance between what you’re saying about not knowing me and what you smell like.”

  "Tell me about him," I said. "Your… Alec."

  Nessy's tail, which had been wagging slightly, went completely rigid. She looked down at her paw-hands, flexing her claws thoughtfully.

  "He was... everything," she began, her voice soft with memory. "My anchor. We grew up together in Ferguson. Neighbors. Knew each other since I could talk. His grandfather and my parents were friends. I hung out at his grandfather's RV all the time. We went to the same schools, had the same friends. He was terrible at sports, home ec and literature… but amazing at mathematics and drawing—just like you."

  She smiled faintly at the notebook in my hands.

  "He taught me how to swim at Ferguson Quarry when we were just kids. I taught him how to track animals through Blackbirch Forest. We had this spot on Clashridge Peak where we'd go to watch meteor showers." Her voice caught slightly.

  She laughed, but the sound held more pain than humor.

  I returned to my sketching, giving her the space to continue without the intensity of eye contact. My pencil traced the outline of what might be a compass, similar to Calvin's Identifier device.

  "After graduation, he went away to university," she continued, watching my hands work. "I stayed in Ferguson, went to trade school. We promised we'd text every day, call every week, chat on the net, play online games n' stuff. And at first, we did."

  She shifted, drawing her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them in a distinctly human gesture of self-comfort.

  "Then the texts and discord messages got shorter. The calls became less frequent. I told myself he was just busy. College is demanding, right? New friends, new experiences..." She trailed off, her gaze distant. "But deep down, I knew. He was pulling away. And… and I couldn’t handle it. Tried to push harder… tried to demand time for our friendship... but that just made things worse. So much worse."

  I kept drawing, now sketching a basic, crude map, trying to visualize how one possibly might navigate between realities.

  "The last text I got from him was months ago. Just 'Sorry, can't talk now. Later?' That's it. No later ever came."

  She unfolded herself suddenly, leaning over to look at my drawing. Her fur brushed against my arm, warm and soft, but I noticed she was trembling slightly.

  "I should have known then," she whispered. "Should have accepted it was all over. Whatever we had—friendship, maybe something more—it was finished. Done. He'd moved on… found someone else, cut me off… but I refused to believe that, because I’m a big, determined idiot…"

  I added detail to my map, sketching little landmarks—Ferguson Quarry, Clashridge Peak, places she'd mentioned that existed in my world too, though in my memories, they were places I'd mostly been alone.

  "But then," she continued, her voice steadying, "the System came. The world started... changing. Breaking. Reshaping. Getting all weird and wrong. So, so wrong. And all I could think was—I have to find him. I have to know he's safe. Maybe if I find him… then I can rescue him, help him, be his best friend again, win him back by… by being a good, useful, helpful dog. Stupid, right?”

  She moved again. I glanced at her. Her eyes captured mine, intense and vulnerable all at once like a magnet pulling me in.

  "I couldn’t take it anymore. I gave up working on one of the cars at the shop, jumped into my truck and drove… roads got weird. Really weird. Like un-drivably, loopy, endless... weird. So, I got out of the car and ran… Just ran. On and on and on. God knows for how long. The clock on my phone and satnav map got really 'effed at times. I ran through landscapes that shouldn't exist. Past and away from things that wanted to consume me. I barely slept. Barely ate. Just followed your scent—a scent I would know anywhere. The scent of my best friend."

  Her paw reached out, hovering just above my hand but not quite touching, as if suddenly aware of boundaries she'd been ignoring all night.

  "And I found you. Finally found you!"

  I set the notebook aside, giving her my full attention now. The intensity in her gaze was almost uncomfortable, but I didn't look away.

  "But I'm not him," I said gently.

  "You are!” she let out. “You… you have to be!!!”

  The silence between us stretched, heavy with unspoken emotions. A tear welled in the corner of her eye, catching the light before trailing down through her fur. She didn't wipe it away.

  “I am not,” I shook my head.

  Another tear followed the first, and then another. Still, she maintained her composure, her voice steady even as her eyes betrayed her.

  "S-shut up! And I've been running so hard, for so long, holding onto this... this hope that when I found you, everything would make sense again. That I'd have an anchor, my best friend back.”

  She finally reached out, her paw-hand closing over mine with surprising gentleness. Her pads were soft against my skin, her claws carefully held away from me.

  I wanted to offer comfort, to say something that would ease her pain, but platitudes felt wrong in the face of her tears.

  "I understand," I said finally. "What it's like to hold onto someone who's already let go. My brother... abandoned me to the cartel, screwed me over."

  I shook my head, pushing away memories of him constantly asking for favours or money, broken promises, the slow realization that brotherly love wasn't enough to overcome the disparities our parents had created between us by constantly putting him on a pedestal far above me.

  "I understand," I repeated. “I get it.”

  Nessy nodded, something in her posture easing at my words. She took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to compose herself.

  “Could you just maybe... pretend?” She asked. “Humor me? Please…”

  “I really don’t like pretending to be someone I’m not,” I said.

  "And… I don't know if I can start over," she admitted, dark nostrils flaring as she took a shaky breath. "I don't know if I can let go of what I thought I was running toward. But I know I can't do this alone. Can’t go on alone. I’m so effin’ tired, so wrecked."

  Her voice broke on the last word, the last remnants of composure she'd been maintaining finally cracking. A high-pitched whine escaped her throat. She ducked her head, ears flattening completely against her skull as her shoulders hunched forward.

  "You couldn't find your Nessy either, could you?" she whispered, her voice quivering. "Because she's gone. Dead. Just like my Alec is gone... maybe dead, maybe changed over time. Gone forever from my life. Unable to be my pack... companion anymore."

  She drew her knees up, making herself smaller. Her tail, usually so expressive, lay completely still beside her.

  "I'm not like your un-talking dog from that damned calendar," she continued, her words muffled as she pressed her face into her knees. "I'm a girl. A person. I had dreams. Plans. A future I thought included him. And I… I can’t let any of it go. I just can’t. It’s stupid. I’m so stupid."

  A visible tremor ran through her body, her claws unconsciously extending and retracting against the fabric of her overalls, leaving tiny pulls in the material.

  "I'm so tired, Alec," she exhaled, her voice raw with emotion. "I've been strong for so long. Running for so long. Pushing down this fear that maybe... maybe there was a reason he stopped answering. That I wasn't enough. That I was just... just a convenient childhood friend he settled with until someone better came up.”

  Without thinking, I reached out, placing my free hand on her shoulder. Her fur was warm beneath my palm, slightly damp with nervous sweat.

  "You don't have to run anymore," I said softly. "And you're not alone."

  Something snapped in her expression then—a dam giving way to relief so profound it transformed her entire face. A sob escaped her, then another. She lurched forward suddenly, pressing her face into the crook of my neck, her cold nose seeking the pulse point beneath my jaw. Her breath came in ragged gasps against my skin, each exhale punctuated by a loud whine.

  Her arms wrapped around me, clinging with desperate strength, as if afraid I might disappear if she let go. I felt her fuzzy fingers curl into the fabric of my coveralls, bunching the material as she pressed closer, seeking comfort through contact.

  “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” She whined between tears.

  I stiffened momentarily at the invasion of space, then slowly relaxed, awkwardly patting her back as she cried. This wasn't the casual, oblivious boundary-crossing from before—this was raw need, the culmination of so much fear and exhaustion and hope deferred.

  “D-d-dont leave me again, please. Don't. I can't… I won't be able to handle it… please…” her words broke into incoherent weeping.

  "I am not the friend you lost," I insistently murmured into her ear as she trembled against me.

  She nodded against my shoulder, still not lifting her head.

  "But I can be your new friend," I continued. "The real me. And maybe... maybe that's enough. Also, I’m not going anywhere. Unless… I get eaten by something when we go outside next time. Seriously, I have no reason to abandon you. None. Nada. You’re a cool doggo, if a bit invasive.”

  “Feh! I’m an invasive species,” She let out as she pulled back finally, swiping at her eyes with the back of her paw. Her fur was matted with tears, her nose extra wet, but something in her expression had lightened, as if putting her grief into words had relieved some of its weight.

  "I… just want someone in my life… I can trust," she said, her voice hoarse. "I think... I think I need to let him go... The Alec who stopped answering. Who didn't want me in his life anymore. It’s just so ‘effing hard, you know… especially when you’re him, errr… just like him except for… minor past inconsistencies?"

  I nodded.

  She managed a watery smile, her tail giving a tentative wag. "You're just so similar... Bad at sports too, I bet."

  "Uh-huh. Definitely terrible at rugby," I confirmed, returning her smile with a small one of my own. "Almost broke my arm. But great at drowning in bathtubs, apparently."

  Her startled laugh—a weird hybrid of human chuckle and canine yip—broke the tension. She swiped at her eyes one more time, then glanced down at my abandoned notebook.

  "Your drawings are tight, but def' not alive," she commented, composure returning bit by bit. "Maybe we can make an artifact to help your Reconstitution recharge. Something like Calvin's silly hat, but less... tinfoil-y."

  "Maybe," I agreed, picking up the notebook again. "Any suggestions for what else to draw?"

  She leaned in close once more, her muzzle right next to my face, personal space once again a foreign concept to her.

  "How about a phoenix?" she suggested, pointing to the paper. "They're all about rebirth, right? Or maybe a tree—roots and branches, life from decay?"

  I began sketching, our earlier emotional intensity settling into something calmer, more comfortable. Nessy remained pressed against my side, occasionally offering suggestions, her tail thumping steadily against the mattress.

  We continued working on artifact designs, Nessy offering suggestions while I sketched. Drawing a phoenix wasn’t doing shit. The tree art didn't feel magical.

  I was getting tired and yawned.

  My attempts at more sensory organs yielded nothing—no matter how I drew them, they remained lifeless marks on paper. I tried eyes with different expressions, ears from different angles, even abstract representations that Calvin might have appreciated.

  "Maybe you're thinking too hard," Nessy suggested, scratching behind her ear. "Calvin said intent matters more than technique. Right?"

  "My intent is to make these work," I grumbled.

  Nessy shifted, stretching her legs before settling again, this time with her head resting against my knee. "Maybe draw something you care about?”

  “I tried drawing stuff from Ferguson,” I said.

  “It doesn’t sound like you care that much about Ferguson,” she said.

  I was about to argue when my pencil began moving almost of its own accord, no longer focused on System mechanics but simply drawing what was before me. With quick, confident strokes, I sketched Nessy's head from memory, also glancing at her as she rested against my leg—her pointed ears, the distinctive angel wing markings on her face, those expressive blue eyes half-closed in contentment.

  It wasn't meant to be an artifact. Just a drawing. A capture of a cute moment.

  As I added the final touches to her fur texture, I noticed something strange—the lines seemed to shimmer slightly, a barely perceptible silver gleam catching the dim light. The drawing felt... warm somehow. Alive.

  "What is it?" Nessy asked, noticing my sudden stillness.

  "Hum... I think it worked," I said, surprised. "Not the eyes or ears or any of the technical stuff, but... this." I turned the notebook to show her the sketch I'd made.

  She sat up, ears perking forward as she studied it. "Hey! It's me!"

  "It's more than that," I said, running my finger along the edge of the drawing. "It feels different from the others."

  As if in response, the sketch seemed to deepen, the lines becoming more vibrant. And with it came a strange awareness—a subtle but distinct sense of Nessy's presence, as if the drawing had created a link between us.

  "I can feel you," she said suddenly, her nose twitching rapidly. "Through the drawing. It's like... it's extending my senses somehow." She closed her eyes, concentrating. "Just the tiniest, smallest bit. Like there’s a spot there. A spot of me-ness?”

  I nodded and stared at the drawing in wonder.

  Not a technical diagram of System mechanics, not a carefully crafted sensory organ, but a simple sketch of Nessie had created my first functioning artifact.

  Was this an artifact? What was I even supposed to do with this? How would it help?

  I had no idea.

  Nessy yawned, her mouth opening wide to reveal an impressive set of canines before snapping shut with an audible click. "We should sleep," she suggested, stretching her arms overhead. "Tomorrow we can figure out… more shtuff.”

  I nodded, suddenly aware of how exhausted I was. My new body might have healed from the conceptoid's attack, but the mental fatigue of everything—dying, being reconstituted, fighting and running, meeting Nessy, and trying to understand this new System-ruled world—all of it had taken its toll.

  "Yeah, sleep sounds good," I agreed, setting the notebook on a nearby shelf and stretching out on my side of the air mattress.

  Nessy immediately began rearranging the blankets and pillows once again, circling and patting them down in a distinctly canine manner before finally settling with a contented sigh. Just when I thought she was done, she would abruptly rise and repeat the entire process, turning three more times before finally collapsing with dramatic finality.

  "Comfy yet?" I asked dryly.

  "Almost," she replied, completely missing my sarcasm as she made one final adjustment to her blanket nest. She wiggled with a satisfied grunt, curling into a surprisingly tight ball at the foot of the mattress.

  I reached over and turned off the small, battery-operated lava lamp from one of Calvin's boxes of random things, plunging the storage room into darkness broken only by thin slivers of moonlight filtering through a high, narrow window.

  The silence stretched between us, not uncomfortable but weighty with all that had been said and all that remained unspoken. I could hear Nessy's breathing, steady but not yet slowed with sleep. Occasionally, her tail would thump against the mattress, creating tiny vibrations I could feel against my feet.

  "Alec?" Her voice came softly through the darkness.

  "Yeah?"

  "I'm really glad I found you. Even if you're not... exactly my Alec, you’re the Alec I need right now. Heh. This is some Batman shit. I mean it tho..."

  She yawned.

  "Right. I'm... glad I'm not alone," I finally replied. It probably wasn't exactly what she wanted to hear, but it was honest.

  She seemed to accept this, falling silent again. Minutes passed, and I began to drift toward sleep, my consciousness growing fuzzy around the edges. I was nearly there when I felt the mattress shift and a warm weight wobble under the blanket to press against my side.

  Nessy had moved, abandoning her carefully constructed nest to curl up next to me, her chest pressed against my back. Her fur tickled my neck.

  "Why are you so close?" I mumbled, too tired to move.

  "Cold," she replied simply, sounding half-asleep.

  I should have protested, should have maintained the personal boundaries I'd been sort of trying to establish all day. Instead, I found myself adjusting slightly to accommodate her presence, my body responding to her warmth in the chilly storage room. It was then that I noticed her scent—pine cones and engine oil and something uniquely hers.

  "Fine. Just this once, you dastardly floofy space invader," I murmured.

  "Mm-hmm," she agreed, her tail giving one final wag before going still and wrapping herself even harder around me.

  Within minutes, her breathing deepened, punctuated by occasional little snuffling sounds. One of her ears twitched against my head, responding to dreams or distant sounds I couldn't perceive.

  Despite my exhaustion, sleep eluded me for a while longer. I lay there, acutely aware of Nessy's warm presence, the gentle rise and fall of her ribcage against me, the occasional twitch of her paws as she chased something in her dreams.

  It was strange how quickly she had become real to me—not just a System-generated construct or an alternate reality anomaly, but a person with her own fears, hopes, and heartbreaks. A person who, against all logic, had chosen to trust me.

  As sleep finally claimed me, my last conscious thought was a hope that I wouldn't fail her—this strange, loyal creature who had crossed worlds to find someone she'd lost, only to end up with me instead.