“Zeke, you should really give your major some consideration before the semester begins in earnest,” Cina sighed, sitting back in her seat and tapping her fingers together. Just ten more minutes to the end of the day. Not a big deal, the raccoon woman knew. Just ten more minutes to the weekend.
The ferret — black-footed, must be from west of the green line — rubbed the furred palm of his left hand with the thumb of his right absentmindedly, looking up and off to the side in thought. “Well, uhm. I’m good with computers. I think AI is pretty neat. I don’t know how to use it, though. I always wondered how those old computers stored stuff on audio cassettes, you know? Dad got a computer at an auction that had one of those and it was really cool, the…”
Fate preserve me, he won’t start talking until you get him started, then he won’t shut up.
“Well, Mr. Riss…ah, Zeke,” she corrected herself when the ferret opened his muzzle to correct her. No no don’t get started again! “I think you’d be perfect for the Data Archeology program.”
“What’s that?”
She picked a catalog off the shelf and flicked through it. “Well, let’s see, it’s pretty interesting, I’ll find the description for you. Just a second now,” she prattled, filling dead air to keep the boy from getting started again…despite the fact that he was looking at her with quiet attentiveness, ears perked in curiosity. “Ah, here we go. The undergraduate Data Archeology program is provided by the College of Computer Science, and provides a working background in digital signal processing, digital encoding techniques, computer programming, algorithm design, and a basic overview of computer architecture. Recommended minors are Computer Science or Electrical Engineering. CS would give you career prospects as a programmer, EE would open up opportunities in telecommunications. Not that you’d need them: data archeology is a growing field, and the stuff inside those old computers people keep digging up is valuable.”
Zeke blinked, “It is? But it’s so old.”
The raccoon snapped the book closed, “Maybe they’re old, but the people that left them lying around were way ahead of us in some ways. There’s some good federal jobs in data archeology; Middle America’s running behind the rest of the WAFN, but we’ve got our own stockpiles of ancient hardware. The thing that could make one of the Cities into the next Veridas could be hiding in one of those machines.”
“Wow, okay. Data Archeology sounds really cool. Uh…I don’t know what to do for a minor, though. Which would you recommend?”
Sigh. “CS will be more useful to you if you become a DA.”
“Okay, I guess I’ll do that then. The, uh, Data Archeology and Computer Science one.”
“Excellent, I’ll put that in for you.”
“…so, uhm, what classes should I take?”
Sigh. “Well, let’s take a look at the requirements…”
***
Zeke pushed open the door and fished his khaki cadet cap out of his shorts’ cargo pocket, giving it a little flick to pop it into shape — more or less — before slotting it into place atop his head until the band nestled against the bases of his ears. Okay, so, that went pretty well! I thought finding a major would be harder than that. I haven’t even been in town a full day and I’ve already got that decision all sorted out, he thought. Pulling his com from his pocket, he flicked it open. I made my interCity E-rail to metro connection, I got lunch. Oh, right, I was supposed to check in and get my dorm stuff figured out before I came down to do the advising stuff. Thaaaat’s why I’ve still got my backpack with me. I guess it’s gonna be one of those days. He sighed, shrugged, and pulled up the campus map on his com.
Man, this place is huge. MAUB is half the size of Little Bowl, I can’t even wrap my head around how big Bliss is. I guess there’s a reason the Cities made it the capitol, the ferret mused to himself as he walked the path, attention drifting from his map to the campus grounds. “I just can’t get over how green it is here.”
“Shit, you think it’s green here? You should see Cascadia, man. You’d lose your mind,” an amused, feminine voice responded from beside him.
Zeke started at the and glanced to the side, blinking once at the sight of the opossum girl that had managed to sneak up on him. She was a head under his five-foot eleven, and her light gray and white fur contrasted with her black ears in a way that his own tan and dark brown markings didn’t match…never mind the contrast between his brown hair and her own brilliantly crimson-dyed pixie cut. Ice-blue eyes peeked up to match the honey-brown of his own, and that grin…well, the number of teeth and their sharpness made it hard to mistake her for a rat, that was for sure. Holy crap, I didn’t know they made pants that tight.
“Thanks, you’re cute too, but maybe bring the eyes up here ‘til we trade names, bud,” the opossum said, her grin widening.
“Huh? Oh, fu…uh, I’m really sorry, I, just, I, uh…” his eyes snapped upwards and he could feel his ears burning as he rubbed the back of his neck and gave a half-grin, shifting one shoulder in a shrug. “No excuse. Apologies, really. I’m Zeke. Uhm. Zeke Riss,” he said, before — a beat too late to be smooth about it -- he remembered to offer the girl a dark-furred paw to shake. “Class of 7009,” he added.
“Hey, I’m 7009, too! Rosalyn McIntyre. And don’t worry about it, I didn’t realize hip-huggers weren’t a thing down here until I got off the plane and I was getting stared at,” the possum admitted with a laugh and a shrug of her own. She slipped her slim, pink fingers into Zeke’s paw and gave it a squeeze and a shake. She glanced down, paused, then uttered a soft “huh,” glancing back up at him past her bangs. “Aren’t you guys rare? You’re black-footed, right?”
“Yeah, I am,” he said with the barest hint of his own grin. “I mean, we’re kinda rare, I guess. We mostly stick to the area around Little Bowl and the Sandhills to the north. It’s not like we’re dying out or anything, even if the news crews remember we exist every couple of years and come by to feel bad for us ‘cause we aren’t blotting out the sun with our babies,” the ferret said, his half-grin spreading into full bloom. “We’re too stubborn to disappear, though. BFFs Forever, y’know?”
The opossum’s eyes widened. “Oh. My stars. That’s what those pins mean? The ones with the little dancing ferrets on them?” Rosalyn laughed, “We give those to each other up north. We thought it meant ‘Best Friends Forever!’”
“Nah. That’d be silly. Why would we put ‘forever’ twice? It’s great that people outside the Cities buy ‘em, though. Really helps out the community.”
“…shit, it would be two forevers. I gotta tell the girls about that. Hey,” she grinned up at him, “can I get a selfie with you? They won’t believe me otherwise.”
“Sure,” the ferret said, turning around and leaning down and in. After a moment of awkwardness trying to figure out what to do with his arm, Rosalyn rolled her eyes and reached up to grab his paw, putting it on her shoulder. “Chill and pop a grin for the camera, alright?”
Flushing, Zeke gave a sheepish grin and a nod, looking to the camera on Ros’s com as she snapped the photo. He stood up and retrieved his arm with an embarrassed cough as she started to tap at her com with her thumbs. “So, uh. I guess I’m here for Data Archeology. Just saw the adviser. You?”
“Undecided,” the possum said without looking up, “but I’m probably gonna do CompSci with an Aviation minor. My dream job would be payload engineer on, like, suborbital freight hoppers, but I’m flexible. What do you wanna do when you’re out of school?”
“I dunno.”
“Wait, really?” she glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye, “like, no idea at all?”
The ferret flushed and shrugged a shoulder, “Not really? I’m pretty good with computers and I learn fast. I’m, uh, here on scholarship. Like, because of grades, not a species thing. I’m kinda hoping I’ll figure out what I like to do when I’m here.”
“Well shit. You help me with studying and I’ll help you figure out what you wanna do. Deal?”
“Deal! Hey, you wanna get something to eat?”
“Asking me out already? You’re confident, aren’t ya?”
The ferret’s eyes widened. “Oh, fate, no!” As the opossum’s ears laid back, he stammered, “Er, I mean, I would, but…I mean, okay, so, I barely know you and I don’t wanna be weird or creepy or y’know anything like that but uh so you’re really attractive and I mean if you- but I don’t wanna pressure and it’d be unfair to-”
Rosalyn laughed and playfully planted her hand against Zeke’s sternum, giving a little shove. “I’m messing with you.”
“…o-okay, whew,” the ferret said, shoulders slumping. He plucked his cap off his head and ran his fingers through it, “I was just, y’know, in the advisor’s office and it’s six-thirty and I haven’t had supper yet. I don’t even know where the cafeteria is. I had lunch at the rail station.”
The opossum blinked once, then grinned and turned, motioning for him to follow. “Shit, you should have said something earlier, the student union’s this way. There’s a big, like, food-court style cafeteria that takes up most of the second floor,” she said, leading the way with — Zeke couldn’t help but notice — a swish in her hips that countered the sway of her tail. “I am single, though, just so you know.”
It took Zeke a moment for his jaw to click closed, and it took a moment longer before he had the presence of mind to scramble to catch up with her.
The Federated Cities of Middle America is a relatively poor WAFN member that encompasses parts of Nebraska, Wyoming, and the Dakotas.
The city of Bliss is based on the RL city of Omaha, and is in the same location.
Places in the FCMA rarely have their ancient, human names. For various reasons which may be explored later in the story, the area had tribal society until fairly recently (in historical terms), and the tribal names for things have stuck: you may hear a foreign academic talk about "Omaha" or the "Platte" or "Missouri" rivers, but to locals those will always be "Bliss", the "Tea", and the "Maiden" respectively.
