Nemo's Story
Nemo Spriggan had nothing left. She had a car — a restored and repeatedly repaired 1989 Toyota Tercel in metallic blue — packed with water, food, her various medications, and books in every available nook and cranny. Stowed in the backseat was a travel bag full of her clothes and a sizable toolbox, alongside the other bric-a-brac of her life. On her person, she carried a wallet and a smartphone with a slowly dying battery in her jacket pocket. A folding utility knife and pepper spray sat in the other pocket, along with her car keys. Besides these things, her life was empty.
She had just gotten a phone call from an elderly neighbor of her parents. Her mother had died two months earlier. That was her last surviving immediate family member. She would not have attended the funeral even if she had known; apparently, it had taken the neighbor all that time just to get in touch with her. It was a sweet gesture, Nemo thought, but not a worthwhile one. She never wanted to see her family again, and now she never would.
She stood next to her car while it was parked on a bluff off the highway. She kicked the metal guardrail. Nemo had no job — she had worked at a gym for several months and was asked to leave after she talked back to her oaf of a boss, the type of man for whom used car dealerships were a little too sophisticated. To her, it was long overdue. She was tired.
Nemo had been sleeping in the car for two weeks now, after failing to make rent. That wasn’t an easy feat in a small Japanese economy car, but Nemo had figured out ways to fold her scrawny, long-limbed body into tighter spaces before. The Arizona nights at this time of year were far too cold for her other solution, which was to just find an unobtrusive spot and camp out for a while. Maybe she’d keep driving until she found a warmer climate, or her money ran out.
With no destination in mind, Nemo drove. The highways and guardrails and concrete overpasses blended with the harsh sun and high moon until she stopped reading roadsigns at all. She stopped to eat fast food twice and then decided to go further. She stopped for gas, filling her tank, and drove on again. She turned, and turned again. She left the highway and aimless drove through a maze of side streets and small towns with signs for businesses that had been long abandoned, frozen in time. She never stopped. Had it been days or weeks? She hadn’t eaten a proper meal in too long.
She pulled back onto the highway and drove into a bank of fog. Perfect, she thought. If I can’t see what’s in front of me, I won’t have to avoid looking at it. She drove. She drove more. Her stomach gurgled. Maybe it was time to stop, she thought. She realized the fog had been unusually thick and resilient for some time, and her stomach churned with fear in addition to hunger. She drove.
When the fog broke, it took her several minutes to notice the lack of highway signs. The road was paved, but in place of yellow highway line was a single strip of glittery, luminescent paint. Her car chugged slightly, and she realized she was driving uphill. Where was this? What state was she in? An altered state, she thought. Pretty good joke. Everybody laughs.
Instead of turning around, she just drove. Might as well get to the top of the hill. Maybe here was a place she could make camp and be ignored, since there was no around, it seemed. She started to realize that her two-lane highway had metamorphosed into a single winding mountain road. She was still going up, up, up. Now, she was a little concerned. She’d either taken a wrong turn, one that placed her in an unfamiliar mountain range — that had no visible signage, and no other cars on the road — or, she was fully hallucinating. Maybe starving and delirious in a Wendy’s parking lot somewhere.
Either way, she continued. There was nowhere to turn around. Physically, or psychologically. She drove and drove and finally, reached a similar bluff to the one where her journey had started. A highway guardrail, just like the one she’d parked in front of at the start of this journey, marked the edge of a sort of plateau at the top of whatever this godforsaken hill was. She stopped the car.
Instead of a typical Arizona highway, she saw something incredible. Before her was a landscape from an airbrushed painting you would be more likely to see on the side of a van or in the back of a comic book store. Even that comparison could not do justice to the strange sights before her.
She saw an enormous tower in the distance with black stormclouds swirling around it in a spiral pattern. She saw what was clearly a Japanese castle of the Sengoku period, but much taller — like three Himeji Castles stacked atop one another. Enormous birds were flying up and down the length of it. Closer to her, she could see what looked like a medieval town or the simulacrum of one you’d see at a renaissance fair, except it was surrounded by what was unmistakably a racetrack. Dazed, Nemo looked up and noticed that what she at first thought was a cloud was some kind of floating city, silver and gold and shimmering. What looked like boats with white, feathery wings on their sides were approaching it.
The entire landscape was criss-crossed with roads, paths, and railroad tracks, done in an almost random pattern. The chaos on display would give any city planner a heart attack, and probably delight fans of transportation infrastructure who could only imagine such fanciful modes of transit. She could not believe what she was seeing. Her first thought was that she had been dosed or drugged in some way. She reached into her pocket for her vape pen and looked at it, as if she had missed a “contains psilocybin” warning label on it.
“Nice view, huh?” said a sawdust-coarse voice behind her. Nemo spun around to see a man chained to a rock directly behind her car. He had long white beard and hair to match. His physique looked malnourished, but he was, nevertheless, huge. His arms and legs were thick with muscle, and his skin was a pointillist painting of scars. His stomach, in particular, had a massive pink fleshy scar that looked raw and wet to the touch. It looked to Nemo like he’d recently had a very invasive surgery.
“Who— what the fuck— what the fuck? What?” she said. “I’m going insane. This is what people mean when they say ‘psychotic break,’ right?”
“You’re asking me? If I were a hallucination…” the chained-up man said. Nemo leaned against the car and put her face in her hands, hoping that when she came up again, the world would be back to normal, or she’d wake up in whatever ditch she’d ended up in, in the real world. When she opened her eyes, nothing had changed.
“OK. What is this?” she said. “I’ll humor you.”
“This is Spiral Mountain, in the Western region of Denshon. That’s in the nation of Greenglow on the Narrenar continent. But you probably mean the bigger picture. This world, we call it Logos” the man said. “Where your mythology comes from… and where it goes. Every story you’ve ever heard, every myth, folk tale, fairy tale, they’re all from here, in one way or another. It’s a world of stories.”
Nemo’s eyebrows shot up at that description. “So I wandered into a fantasy land like one of those stupid anime? Come on,” she said.
People come here all the time. They leave, too. People, creatures, gods, spirits. Sometimes you’re needed here, sometimes there. If you’re here, I’m guessing you didn’t have many attachments in your life. Maybe you lost someone recently. A lot of people end up here when they have nowhere else to go,” the man said.
“Yeah? So what’s your story? You pissed off the wrong guy in a back alley?” Nemo said. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. She began to pace back and forth, nervous energy buzzing in her legs.
The man laughed a big, boisterous laugh. “Honestly, that’s not too far off. I’m from here originally. My name is Prometheus,” he said.
“Oh, come on,” Nemo said.
“So you know the story,” Prometheus said. “Or part of it, at least. You would know why I’m chained up, if you knew the rest.”
“Uhh… you pissed off Zeus because the Titans fought the gods in a war. That was in some video game,” she said. “This is your punishment. So what, you’ve been chilling here chained up for thousands of years?”
“Hardly,” Prometheus said. “I said, it’s a world of stories. Things go in cycles. We play our part, and then, eventually, we do it again. Sometimes it’s a little different. Sometimes we die and come back. Sometimes—“
Nemo interrupted. “OK, OK. I don’t know if I can handle these details. I mean, what am I supposed to do? Just live here now?” she said.
“Well—“ Prometheus started to say, before he was interrupted again. The cry of a bird of prey echoed from the sky like a thunderclap. Nemo instinctively turned in the direction it came from, and felt a gust of hot wind. Then, swooping out of the sky, came an eagle, resplendent in brown and gold. Nemo had only seen birds like this in person at the zoo. Unlike those, the one in front of her was the size of a mountain lion. The gigantic bird landed smoothly on the rocky surface and looked curiously at Nemo for a moment before turning away. It toddled over to Prometheus.
“Don’t look,” he said, gravely. Nemo should have listened. After letting out another vocalization of some kind, the raptor reared up and plunged its talons into Prometheus’s torso. Nemo watched as blood — not just red, but gold, blue, white, and other shades, gushed out of his body and pooled on the ground. After a few scratches, the bird got back on its feet and pushed its beak right into the scarred fleshy spot Nemo had noticed a moment earlier. More gore sprayed and splashed in all directions before the eagle pulled its head back and seemed to look upward, a mass of flesh in its beak. It shook off some of the blood, and flew away.
Nemo couldn’t speak, just watching the bizarre inhuman flesh and blood ooze all around her, pooling on the rocks and running in little rivulets that looked like they’d been carved by erosion of exactly this type.
“Every day,” Prometheus said. “That bastard Zeus sends his eagle to devour my liver. Just like the last dozen times. Then, it grows back. And we go on and on like this. The very first time, Hercules freed me. I haven’t seen him in quite some time.”
“Wait, wait— you’re telling me that this happens every day? But also that it’s happened… cycles,” Nemo said. She stared for a moment at the hideous display in front of her, and had an idea.
“You wanna get out of here, dude?” she said.
Prometheus looked surprised, and then laughed. “What a marvelous idea. I think I should know my rescuer’s name, though,” he said.
“Nemo. My name is Nemo Spriggan,” she said. “She/they. Do you guys do that?”
“Sometimes,” Prometheus said. “He/him. I tried it another way for a while but it didn’t stick. If you ever meet Tiresias…” Nemo ignored Prometheus as he continued to talk. She dug through the back of the car for a big bulky toolbox, and pulled out a pair of bolt cutters. Useful for breaking down fences and doors and things if you were ever squatting, a position she’d been in a few times.
It took intense effort to gain purchase against the massive rock and clamp down on Prometheus’ chains with the bolt cutters. She needed all the strength in her skinny arms to get through, and the pain was almost unbearable. Her stomach tightened as she went back to cut the chain away from his other wrist. She felt her hunger acutely in this moment.
Freed, Prometheus stood, and Nemo saw he was absolutely enormous. He had to be almost seven feet tall, with broad shoulders and tree trunk limbs. He could blot out the sun if he chose to. He groaned as he stretched uncared-for limbs, cracked his back first one way, then the other, turned his neck over in his hands. His body was a mass of aches and stiffness slowly popping itself back into place. He wiped away some of the blood and viscera that stained his rags.
Nemo was panting and sweating, and her smelly armpits were especially noticeable in the loose tank top she wore. She wasn’t in particularly good spirits before, and appearing in the land of Oz was doing her no favors.
“I need to go to sleep,” she said. She rested on the edge of the car and slowly caught her breath. Prometheus just looked at her, and continue stretching. His popped the joints on his fingers and toes, rolled his shoulders, and finally spoke.
“Why don’t we take a ride into town? You’ve got a set of wheels here,” he said, tapping the Tercel’s roof gently. “There’s a nice town down there. At least, I think it’s nice. ” He pointed with his thumb to the racetrack town Nemo had spotted.
“Do you have any money?” Nemo said.
“I think I can work something out,” Prometheus said. Nemo just shrugged, unable to come up with a reply, They drove, slowly, down the winding mountain road. Prometheus barely fit into the car’s front seat, to the point where Nemo wanted to ask if changing size was one of the perks of being a titan. She had many questions for him.
She wanted to know if Prometheus had really “designed” humans. What did that mean? She was pretty sure the theory of evolution was true, and the laws of physics seemed to be pretty accurate. Obviously, there was more to it than that. If titans and gods were real, what else was? In the last few minutes, she had already caught a few glimpses of things totally outside her experience and knowledge. And here she was, driving in a car with a character from Greek mythology, who she’d seen instantly heal from a grievous wound that bled multicolored blood. Skepticism seemed less than prudent.
She chose not to ask, but Prometheus seemed to sense her apprehensions. He spoke up after a noticeable silence. “I know destiny can be an anchor, and I have no wish to weigh you down, Nemo. But if you’re here, it’s for a reason. You should prepare to see things that will seem unlikely, impossible, or dangerous. You’ll end up in scenarios you’ve never had a chance to anticipate before,” he said. “Be prepared.”
Nemo looked over at him, hands gripping the steering wheel tighter. “What do I have to lose at this point? My life is… nothing,” she said.
“No one’s life is nothing,” he said. “Here or anywhere. I don’t know your future, but I can promise you that you are going to encounter extraordinary people, and often.” Nemo chose not to reply.
The road was paved all the way down the mountain, but she didn’t see a single car. There were a few travelers on the side of the road who gave the car a curious look. No panic or even much surprise, just a cocked eyebrow or two. The feeling was mutual. Whenever Nemo would notice something familiar — roadsigns, architecture, animals — it revealed stranger and stranger details the closer she got. Nothing was quite as it had been.
After finally reaching the bottom of the mountain and turning onto a flat surface, Nemo saw a scrawny farmer with a colossal beard walking what looked like a baby hippo with feathers along the side of the road. Just as they passed, he tossed a bright purple fruit into its mouth. Signs in English, what looked like Russian, and in unrecognizable glyphs marked the edges of roads now. Buildings looked generally old Europe in style, but the chrome finish and emphasis on triangular shapes evoked for Nemo the space age, or a 1950s-style diner.
“Even ordinary people here might seem extraordinary to you,” Prometheus started to say. “In fact… here comes one now.” Nemo leaned forward to get a look, and saw a tall and muscular man wading knee-deep in the river. He was bald, totally hairless in fact, with bulging bicep muscles. His most notable feature was his skin: it was green, the shade of a slightly underripe lime. He was evidently fishing or otherwise gathering forage from the riverbed, and didn’t react as the car went by.
“You have green guys,” Nemo said in a practiced monotone. Sure, it was strange, but how could she be surprised anymore?
Prometheus just laughed. “Well, perhaps I don’t need to worry about you, after all. You’ve got the basic idea. Humanity here has just been tweaked a little more compared to what you’re used to. We have all the same diversity you do, and then a little more. Just remember, we call them orcs — the ‘green guys’ — and elves and vampires and so on, but they are, at the end of the day, humans. They have a few extra traits, they may congregate in their own way, or have an unfamiliar, even alien, culture. But all they really are, is people. And even those groups who don’t see themselves as human, I think you’ll do your best just treating them as you would anyone else,” he said.
Nemo wanted to take a longer look at the fisherman — the orc — but she kept driving. Prometheus was in good spirits, but it was obvious how uncomfortable he was. It would probably be an all-day affair just getting him cleaned up and presentable, she thought.
“I saw from up top, this village has a— I mean I’d call it a racetrack,” she said.
“That’s exactly what it is,” Prometheus said. “Sports and competition are very popular around here. The technology isn’t too different from where you come from, it just comes around in fits and starts. The folks here will be impressed by your car.”
“An orc town where they’ll love my weird little Japanese economy car,” Nemo said, as if just stating the concept plainly would reveal a sensible core to it. She couldn’t quite comprehend it, but for some reason, she believed it. What else was there to do but believe?
Prometheus pointed to a parking garage complex just on the outside of town. It was hidden by trees and built into what looked like a natural hill, or maybe it was excavated dirt from where the town had been built. It practically blended into the mountain and the other hills nearby. Inside, it looked like a big parking garage you’d see in any city. Actually, it looked like four of them bolted together. For a town that looked humble and easygoing, there were an awful lot of cars.
As she drove around looking for a spot, she studied what she saw. Some of them were familiar cars just like hers, American license plats and all. But most of them looked more like something out of Mad Max, customized, armored, built to last, and made out of whatever material one could get.
“Is this free, by the way?” Nemo said.
Prometheus laughed that hearty laugh of his. “You must be American,” he said. “That’s the first thing any American notices. ‘What about money?’ You’ll figure it out. This is just space. They love cars but they want their town to be walkable and peaceful and quiet, outside of race day. Giving it away ‘for free’ encourages people to use it, which is the purpose. Not making money.”
“Right…” Nemo said, slightly shamed by her own Protestant work ethic coming through.
“Currency is different all over, and you can get by just offering labor, or a song, or whatever your skill set is,” he said. “But I’ll stop by the bank beforehand.” He turned and looked at Nemo as she, deep in the corner of the third level up, found a spot.
“Will you be okay on your own? I know this must be difficult,” he said.
“It is, but so was life before. I feel safer doing this than I did driving before I met you. All I really want right now is some food and a place to sleep. I’m only ninety-nine percent sure this is real, right now,” she said.
“I’ll get us two rooms at an inn and set up a tab with the tavernkeeper there. You can sleep and eat to your heart’s content while I, ah, am refreshed,” he said. He tapped his raw pink muscular patch of scars and distended tissue. Taking a longer look, Nemo realized how hideous of a thing it really was. If he got that cleared up and cut his hair into something reasonable, he’d actually be pretty hot. That thought made her blush.
“Shall we?” he said. She really, truly, had nowhere else to go.
They walked in silence, and Nemo took the chance to soak in a whole lot of new information. First, there was the enormous ornately carved wooden sign, flanked by huge sculptures. The statues were orcs with idealized musculature, a man and a woman. The woman on the right in shabbier clothes with a wrench, and on the left, a man in a jumpsuit and helmet. Nemo could even read the signage underneath, which was in a mix of languages that included English. It said:
"CZONKAPPUTT — City of the Moving Wheel”
The city opened up just beyond the sign, as if they walked right into downtown. The fusion of architectural styles only got stranger near the heart of town. Czonkaputt looked like a combination of a Renaissance fair, old west town, and walkable urban center. For every building that emphasized the chrome-and-fins style, there were as many that looked like leather bars and biker hangouts. The buildings were packed tightly together, most having three or four stories, but some as many as eight. Based on the varied signage, they were packed full of businesses, apartments, and offices of all kinds. All the structures were wound around each other, like tree roots spread into and splitting apart ancient rock. To Nemo, the entire town looked like a cluster of miniature mazes.
Having gotten used to the basics, Nemo finally noticed that the roads, sidewalks, and buildings were all curved. Finding a straight horizontal line was nearly impossible. But the curves were subtle enough that it became a natural part of the rhythm and structure of the city itself.. There were no self-conscious zigzags, just smooth, even curves that rounded into neat circles if you walked long enough. Spiral staircases were common, and some doors and signage were even built into the city’s natural curve.
For a city designed to keep cars out, they were everywhere. Not on the streets, but on signs, in art, and worked into the architecture and the designs of the buildings. Nemo noticed hubcaps hung above doors like horseshoes, and stylized engine blocks were a recurring motif.
Close to where they came into town was a church. The outside was coated in gears, chrome, flashy paint, and lights. It looked like an old-school muscle car with outrageous fins in the form of a cathedral. New Speedster’s Holy Place, said the sign. The name was accompanied by a softly beautiful painting of a family of orcs, praying in front of a car Nemo recognized as a Pontiac Firebird. Next to that was a schedule of upcoming community events. If not for the surrounding aesthetics, it would look like any other church schedule. Food drive, CPR classes, community outreach.
The citizenry stood out as well. Nemo usually felt short anyway, but here, she was tiny. This was a city built for people much bigger than her, although Prometheus still stood out as tall. He and Nemo must have seemed a very mismatched pair. They got a few unusual looks, but nothing approaching judgment or scorn. She’d gotten nastier responses just from walking down the street in an American suburb as herself. Plenty of people here smiled big “good for her” smiles, and made reassuring eye contact. A little condescending maybe, but she’d take it.
The people she saw were every color of the rainbow and more. They ran the entire spectrum of human skin tones and many, many more. Mostly green, but she also saw purple, blue, gray, even bronze people of various shapes and sizes. There were a few other people around her size, but mostly, it was orcs, bigger and more muscular with sharp nails, teeth, and sometimes horns. She had to remind herself not to stare, at times, just because it was so new for her. She didn’t even go in for fantasy stuff, so she had no idea if what she was seeing had any basis in the literature. If what Prometheus had said was true, it was the opposite: she wondered if the literature had gotten anything right.
At the bank, Prometheus was almost turned away until he dropped his name. After that revelation, the manager came out and quickly dealt with the issue. Prometheus came back with a literal treasure chest full of gold coins and bills under his arm.
“This is really how they do money?” she said.
“Oh, they do it all sorts of ways. I just like this. I’m going to spend most of it, don’t worry. Here,” he said. He opened the case and handed Nemo a fold of bills and a small sack of coins, which she attached to her belt.
“That’s for you. I made arrangements with the Sleeping Iguana Inn down the street,” he said. “Give them this and you’ll have a room.” He handed her a card with a reflective sigil on it. “I’ll be around shortly. Give your phone a try, by the way. They do have the internet here, it’s just a little different. I’ll be in touch, but… I think you need a little rest and a little fun. You’ve been barely surviving, my dear girl. Time to live. For now, that’s why you’re here. So says I.”
Nemo laughed. He was sweet. It was nice to interact with a gregarious, big-hearted guy and feel totally secure that he wasn’t being a creep towards her. She indicated her agreement and walked off. As she turned a corner out of the bank, she thought, I should have given him a hug.
At the Sleeping Iguana, the desk clerk, a short orc with a bald head dotted with a crown of small horns, helped her to her room and gave her a list of places she might get any needed supplies. Like others, he didn’t seem terribly bothered that she was a human.
Nemo momentarily lost track of what she needed to say as she watched the face of the orc clerk. His horns appeared to be polished pearl, neatly arranged like the pips on a six-sided die. His skin was a dark chlorophyl green, and he had pointy ears and a compact nose. To Nemo, he looked like a boxer, with a handsome face not ruined but sculpted by time and abuse. He had the slightest underbite and vertical ridges on his chin. He wore a kimono-like robe outfit with short sleeves and bands around his wrists, showing off his thick and muscular arms. If Nemo stared, it was because he was striking and unique, not because he was an orc, she thought.
He smiled at her. “Never met an orc before,” he said, pointing in her direction. He smiled, and Nemo was embarrassed. “It’s okay. I like you portal kids. Ah, that’s one of the things we call people from your world.”
“Sounds like an insult,” Nemo said. “But I like when you say it.” The clerk smiled back at her with a mouth full of sharp, round teeth. The first thing it brought to mind for Nemo was a fossilized dinosaur skull. The second thing she thought of was what it must feel like to get bit by teeth like that.
The clerk kept her eyes for a moment more than was necessary. “If you need anything, ask for Krade, okay?” he said. He smiled a warm smile at her and walked off. The people here were shockingly nice sometimes, and Nemo was not used to it at all.
The room itself was nice. Familiar hotel-style accommodations, with warmer lights and more wood, like a ski lodge or a cabin. There was a table, with a wicker chair by a fake fireplace — a glowing panel with lights behind it. Then, there was the TV. It didn’t look old as an object, but it was cube-shaped with smooth panels, a curved screen, and even some control knobs neatly incorporated along the side. Was it faux-retro or was a big chunky square TV still the norm over here? Every new piece of information raised more questions.
She drew the heavy blackout curtains closed and let the fake fireplace act as the only light source. It was called an “ambient glower,” she found out from the label on the complicated multi-system remote control on the nightstand. She turned up the brightness slightly and cranked the color temperature and tone in different directions until the room was bathed in a dark blue-purple, for a sort of gentle aquarium look.
Nemo stood in front of the full length mirror. She looked at her body, studying her frame. She thought of herself as scrawny, although she’d gotten a little bigger, the last few years. A little muscle, and a little fat. Long, thin limbs, sprouting from a soft but solid torso. Without thinking, she got undressed, fully naked. It had been a while since she’d been alone in a safe, comfortable room like this. It was nice, freeing. Even the hum of street sounds coming from outside — despite Nemo’s current asynchronous feeling, it was the middle of the afternoon — was relaxing.
By now, she liked her body. She’d had a long time to come to terms with it as it had come to her, and as she’d shaped it. She gazed at herself plainly and honestly. Her shoulders were slightly stronger these days, probably from lifting all her meager belongings again and again as she moved from place to place. Her left arm had a large tattoo sleeve that ran all the way from her shoulder down to just before her wrist. She had an array of flowers: irises, lilies, hydrangea, and others, all filled in, in full color. It was the most expensive single “thing” she’d ever spent money on her life, over the course of many years. Even the car was cheaper despite all the repairs.
Her tattoos were her connection to nature, to her body. This was her only ink, apart from a stick-and-poke ring design on one finger of her other hand, done as a favor for a roommate who needed the practice. That one was just a cute little flourish. Her floral sleeve was like a conduit to nature for her, a reminder of her status as a living thing, precious, vulnerable, and lovely. Something beautiful.
She cupped both of her breasts, and the gesture made her laugh. She’d always wanted implants when she was younger, to fill out the scrawny body she originally had, but a little ordinary weight gain had done a decent job for her. She had lovely small breasts that did have the slightest heft to them. They came along with a rounder belly that at first she’d hated, but had grown used to and appreciative of. A full belly meant she was eating, living, and thriving. It also meant that instead of being all bones and elbows, she had a few curves now. She liked that. She felt up her belly and shook it, watching the jiggling with some amusement.
Turning around, she had a nice enough ass, too. Her legs were nice, although not long and elegant how she wished. They were cute in their stubbiness, she decided, and her thighs were pleasingly chubby. Her arms were disproportionate to the length of her legs in a way that she decided made her look unique.
Her penis, meanwhile, was smallish and cute. Uncircumcised, and rarely hard these days, but still a source of pleasure and stimulation. She’d never had insurance or mental health care long enough to ever even think about surgery, and whether by psychological necessity or luck, she didn’t have any desire for it. She liked how it felt, she liked using it, when she could, and she even liked, for lack of a better way of thinking about it, showing it off. Some people found a woman with a penis, especially a confident one who relished sexual attention, to be an incredible turn-on. That wasn’t always accompanied by respect for her, respect for other trans women, or kindness, which were also requirements for being with Nemo. She closed her eyes as her mind cycled through former partners, good and bad.
“The past is the past,” she said to herself, reminding herself of a mantra she’d had to use a few times just to find small comforts during times rife with pain and trauma. Now wasn’t the time to revisit old, dark memories. If anything, this was a time for a new start. She may have just stumbled into the chance of a lifetime. It felt like a dream. That thought, and the deep reservoir of emotions in her that was running dry, compelled her to rest. Without getting dressed, she crawled into the bed, cocooned herself in the clean linens, and slept.
When she awoke, she didn’t entirely remember where she was or what had happened. She certainly didn’t know how long it had been. A look at her phone told her she’d been asleep for about fourteen hours. Supposing she needed it, she didn’t feel bad. She almost turned the TV on just for background noise, but upon remembering the nature of the place she’d ended up, thought better of it. Fantasy world TV was probably going to break her brain, a bad idea while she was still reassembling herself.
Feeling a little self-conscious without clean clothes, she decided to go out and buy some. Her clerk friend Krade suggested a store and even some styles she might like. She was wondering if his suggestions were purely professional. Either way, she liked the attention.
Czonkaputt was really not a bad town, as far as she could tell. Nice people, interesting culture, beautiful architecture. The initial shock of strangeness of that aspect of the place had begun to wear off, and Nemo was starting to understand the overall structure of the city. What looked mazelike to her upon first her initial arrival revealed itself to be an intricate series of wheels, within wheels.
She took a map of the city with her from the hotel, and seeing the layout of the city from above was clarifying. The map revealed that the entire city, much like the roads, was circular in shape. In fact, the city itself was just one circle of three surrounded by a circular highway so big, it dwarfed the racetrack she’d seen from above. From that distance, she hadn’t even been able to tell it was a road and not just a boundary.
There was the main city of Czonkaputt, where she was, then the rural and agricultural sector, called Motorrbronc, and finally, the primary racetrack that she had originally seen, known as the Verzen. They were all of approximately equal size, which made for nice symmetry. Somewhat confusingly, Czonkaputt was also used to refer to the entire three-circle district surrounded by what was called the Chamaboko, the “Forever Highway”. It wasn’t actually infinite, clearly, but she could understand it feeling that way when seen from her current perspective. It was a lot to take in, but somehow, Nemo felt safe here. It remained to be seen if Czonkaputt was exceptional in its safety, diversity, and richness of culture. She wondered how many adventures one could have just within the limits of the district.
That would have to wait. For now, she went on a simple adventure to find an outfit. She settled on a jacket and skirt combo that reminded her of some probably historically-inaccurate outfits she’d seen female ninjas wear in movies, but she liked it. She had some kicky, colorful go-go-like boots to go with it. Apparently, Prometheus had plenty of money to spare, because she’d barely made a dent in it after buying an entire new outfit plus accessories. With that in mind, she wanted to sample some of the local delicacies.
She went back to her hotel room, showered, shaved her legs, and generally did her best to look nice. She’d bought some rudimentary makeup along with her outfit. She wasn’t even that experienced with it at home, so here, it was even more difficult. But she thought she looked pretty good. If Krade was still at the desk, she’d give him a little show as she walked by.
Leaving her map behind, she walked until she found what looked enough like a bar to her to feel comfortable. Nemo loved to be surrounded by low, warm lighting, wood and dark metal, and the unmistakable smell of alcohol. No matter where she was, it felt like home.
She spent a few hours tucked into the bar’s corner, gradually sipping at various drinks, some unusual and different, some very familiar. Orcs liked strong brown liquors and vodka, it seemed. The cocktails leaned towards rich and smokey flavors more than sweetness. The food was mostly familiar, with occasional ingredients she didn’t recognize. She didn’t know if this was an unusually good kitchen or if the food here was just incredibly delicious.
It not only tasted good, it made her feel good. Better than she had in a long time. In fact, it seemed to have as strong an effect on her as the alcohol did. Not in the same way. Rather than intoxicating, it was more like a clarifying effect, a refinement of everything that was already there. She felt soothed, enhanced, satisfied. She felt healthy, somehow. The only thing she could really compare it to was how it felt after she started hormone replacement therapy over a decade ago. Was this how everyone here felt, or was it because she was an outsider?
While she contemplated that, a stranger — they were all strangers, she supposed — came up to the bar and leaned forward on two elbows. Nemo couldn’t help but look. She was an orc woman with green skin like avocado flesh. She was taller than Nemo and wearing black leather head to toe, and had a massive mane of raven-black hair. She had black leather gloves, studded bracelets and belt, and boots that probably gave her an extra half-inch in height. She had two shiny black horns emerging from her forehead, and pointy ears that stuck out from behind her hair. Her chin had a few slight vertical ridges. Her muscles, curves, and large breasts were clear from just a glance. She was, also, unbelievably gorgeous. Nemo felt her heart drop from her throat to her stomach as she looked at this woman.
“Hey stranger,” she said, looking back at Nemo. No shyness, no hesitation, pure will. “You come here often? I’m from out of town.”
Nemo found it very difficult to speak. “Uh. Out of town… me too,” she said. She sounded like she’d just been unfrozen. How humiliating.
The orc woman smiled, bearing just a few sharp teeth. “You must come from a society of poets. Nice of you to visit the gearheads,” she said. Nemo had by this point put it together, without being told directly, that Czonkaputt was a city devoted to cars and specifically car racing. Life revolved around races, and there was a big one coming up, it seemed. So that comment was a little mean — insulting her diction and making her sound pretentious, somehow at the same time. But that made her more attractive, not less.
Nemo turned to face her. “I’m Nemo,” she said. “I’m from a lot further away than that, actually. It seems like I’m here for the long haul, though.”
“Zonk?” the stranger said, using the abbreviation for the city that was apparently popular. “Or…?”
“Everywhere. Well, I don’t know. Should I stay here in town or go adventuring?” Nemo said.
Her companion looked away for a moment and thoughtfully considered. The bartender stopped by and took her order. The bartender had a little bit of a satisfied smile on his face, and Nemo wasn’t sure why. Maybe this was a regular customer.
“I’m only here a few times a year, but it’s always eventful,” she said. “Call me Shagrah.” She put a hand out, and Nemo lightly shook her hand. She must have been touch-starved, because she felt a little buzz of electricity go from her fingers all the way down her body.
“Shagrah,” Nemo repeated. It was a beautiful name, and felt good on her lips. “So you’re here for the race.”
Shagrah tilted her head and smiled again. “Yes, you could say that. You really are from… elsewhere, aren’t you?” she said. “Sometimes people lie about that, just to get a fresh start. People take pity on you, think of you as an interesting little curiosity. I would say your average person has met more fakers than real travelers. But you seem like the real thing.”
As if trying to prove it, Nemo pulled out her wallet and showed off her Arizona driver’s license. Shagrah inspected it and looked amused.
“No points on your license? Maybe I can teach you how to be a real driver,” she said. “Although knowing you guys, you’d probably just plow into some schoolkids instead of doing proper driving. Sorry, Americans are—“
“No need to apologize, I get it. I didn’t even know I was going to end up here, and I have no reason to go back,” Nemo said.
“Heh. Well, I’ll let you in on something that’s only a secret to you,” she said, and Nemo was detecting the slightest accent. Almost Australian? She couldn’t quite tell. She leaned in a little closer to Nemo and suddenly it was obvious that she had an unusually long tongue. She clicked and enunciated each syllable with delicate, deadly precision. “I’m a driver in that race you mentioned. In fact, a couple of years ago, I won it.”
She gestured behind the bar to a newspaper clipping, and Nemo read it. As usual, it was in English. “Shagrah Bessh Dominates In Fiery, Violent Telos Circuit” the headline read. That must be the name of tomorrow’s race. Without any prompting on Nemo’s part, she pulled off one of her leather gloves and showed a bright silver ring on her left hand, almost chrome. It had a series of striations parallel to the band.
“You get one of these when you win the thing. I’ve got two more at home, but I’m too classy to wear all three,” she said. Nemo touched her own fingers, feeling self-conscious about her own jewelry, which was inexpensive, handmade, and had no significance to match that. She did notice that Shagrah carefully folded the glove up and put it in a pouch on her belt, rather than put it back on her hand.
“Could I…? Um, see it?” Nemo said, lifting her hand palm up. Where did that come from? Was the alcohol impairing her judgment so much that she’d ask to inspect a strange woman’s hand? Surprisingly, Shagrah didn’t seem put out. If anything, Nemo thought she detected a slight smile. The other woman placed her bare hand into Nemo’s palm delicately.
What a strange experience. First, there was her first close-up experience with orc nails. Much like when she noticed Krade’s teeth, Nemo’s mind began to drift. Shagrah had very nice, neat, trimmed, and filed nails, painted a simple pearl white. But they were also noticeably thicker and sharper than even theatrical human nails. They probably came in handy for opening cans, she thought. There was still a regular human fingertip underneath, so they weren’t claws, but they curved and hooked downward slightly to accommodate their increased size.
The ring was beautifully crafted, and surprisingly cold to the touch. Surprising, because Shagrah’s hand was warm, soft, and slightly sweaty from being in her glove. For some reason, Nemo didn’t want to let go. She gently touched the ring itself with her other hand, and then, feeling bolder still, traced her finger back over Shagrah’s hand all the way to the rest.
“It’s no surprise you’re such an excellent driver, with such strong hands,” she said. What a stupid thing to say, she thought.
Shagrah didn’t seem to think so. “You’re from Earth, or whatever, right? Do they have the same cliches we do? Because if you look closely…” Nemo looked down, studying her hand and her fingers. Because her nails were so different from what she was used to, she had failed to notice something: the nails on Shagrah’s index and middle fingers were filed down noticeably shorter, rounder, and softer than the other three. “… you might see that my hands are good for plenty besides just driving.”
The way she said that didn’t leave much room for interpretation. Her skin was soft, even moreso from wearing a tight leather glove on a summer day. The feeling of it was wonderful under Nemo’s fingertips, and she allowed herself to imagine Shagrah’s entire body feeling this way, freed from her outfit, sweat lightly dappled across green skin. Green skin stretched taut over thick, knotty muscle. Shagrah leaned so close, Nemo felt her breath.
“We… um. Yeah, I know what you mean. But I don’t—“ she started, and then actually bit her lip, like a true cliche. She didn’t know how or if to say it. Shagrah leaned even closer. She spoke into Nemo’s ear.
“I know,” she said. “I didn’t at first. You should look down.”
Confused, Nemo cast a glance downward, and saw, immediately, a tent pitched in her skirt, poking upward. She had been so overwhelmed with feeling that she hadn’t even noticed. All the stranger, because this was not something that happened often: estrogen usually put a stop to erections.
“It’s probably the food. It has interesting effects, especially if you’re not used to it.,” Shagrah said. Nemo, blushing, was trying to shrink into her chair and hopefully disappear. In her mild panic, though, she noticed that Shagrah had draped her jacket between their two barstools and hid the evidence of Nemo’s arousal from anyone who might notice. God, that was so sweet, and considerate.
Nemo struggled to find words. Her mind and her hear pulled, inexorably, in one direction. She stopped, to see if she could resist. She couldn’t. “Could we… I know this is forward, but, I, it’s…”
“My hotel room is upstairs. I’ll give you some time, if you need it. Take the stairs up a few levels and turn left and you’ll find the Desert Bandit Inn tower.” She dashed three numbers onto a bar receipt. She touched Nemo’s chin, with the bare hand that Nemo had been so lovingly stroking. “I would really like to see you, if it’s something you want.” The gesture left Nemo a puddle of incoherence.
Nemo quickly and quietly paid her bill, and sat at the bar waiting for her tumescence to relax. She freshened up in the bathroom, adjusting her makeup, cleaning her glasses, washing her hands, and so on. She wasn’t entirely sure this wasn’t some kind of prank, but the bartender had shot her a sympathetic smile that made it seem like this was a common sort of thing with Shagrah. Nemo wondered if it made her a racing groupie. She did like cars, but she wasn’t sure what kind of race this Telos Circuit was. Maybe she could ask Shagrah, if she had the chance. If their mouths weren’t preoccupied.
As with many buildings in Czonkaputt, inside the simple round tower lay a mazelike interior. Various parts of different business abutted each other at angles that would confuse even those with the most agile spatial reasoning. Perhaps that came naturally easier to orcs. Or, the people of this city just had ample time and experience getting used to it. Either way, walking from the British-style pub to modern conference room type hallways and finally into a plush, carpeted hotel with a vague “desert” theme. It was funny, in a city of entirely round buildings, to find an indoor pyramid as a decoration.
Rather than bother asking for help, Nemo “acted as if” and went straight for the elevator. They had these here too, despite the predominance of, what else, spiral staircases. She wondered what Prometheus would think. She was supposed to see him later. He’d left a message with the front desk for her to meet tomorrow and watch the race’s opening ceremonies on the bar TV before discussing their next steps. That would have to wait. Everything had to wait.
She found room 505. It was in a nice part of the hotel and was clearly a big room, based on how deeply tucked into a hallway it was. Nemo knocked on the door, knowing there was a chance she was about to be laughed at. Instead, it just opened, and there was Shagrah, still in most of her leather gear, sans jacket and boots. “Hello Nemo,” she said, simply, seductively, and Nemo felt her whole body react with a shiver. “You can come in.”
The blinds were drawn but there was the slightest flicker of orange light — an ambient glower was a feature common to most hotel rooms, it seemed. Actually, based on the patterns of light shifting along the floors and ceilings, Shagrah’s room, a suite, must have had two. “I don’t— this isn’t something I—“ Nemo tried to say, words failing.
“Come here, sit with me,” she said. She drew Nemo over to the couch in the main area of the suite. Even though the blackout curtains blocked all the natural light, it distinctly “felt” like daytime. She could feel warmth from the sun and could hear the faint sounds of mid-day activity outside. Shagrah had carved out a little space for them. Somewhere warm and safe. Nemo sat curled slightly inward on one end, while Shagrah sat upright on the other side. These couches were designed for orc bodies, so Nemo practically sank into the cushions.
Shagrah just looked over at her and smiled. “Nemo. Do you prefer giving compliments, or receiving them?” she said.
“Right now, um. Receiving. Cause I lose my words when I look at you,” Nemo said.
With a laugh, Shagrah touched Nemo’s arm. Her thick, sharp nails brushed roughly over Nemo’s inked skin. “I think that counts as giving a compliment. Very tricky of you,” she said. “But very well… I would like to indulge you. I think you are absolutely delectable. The way you look at me, it makes me want to just devour you.”
“Is that a compliment?” Nemo said, trying to play it cool, unbelievably turned on.
“Don’t you want to be a delicious meal for me? I would think you’d relish the chance to be… bitten into,” Shagrah said.
“Hey, you know I’m new around here. For all I know, you’re not just speaking in metaphor,” Nemo said.
Shagrah laughed, sharp as steel. “I promise, I’ll only break the skin if you ask,” she said.
Nemo, taking the cue, nudged herself a little closer on the couch. She presented her arm to Shagrah like a waitress delivering an appetizer to a customer with a ferocious appetite. “Let’s keep it bloodless, for now, but…”
Shagrah held Nemo’s arm in both hands from underneath. She kissed the back of Nemo’s hand (leading to a sudden gasp from Nemo) and then up her arm. “Here… here’s the perfect spot to begin,” she said. She licked, with her unusually long tongue by human standards, around the fatty part of Nemo’s upper arm. It felt like a surgeon prepping an incision with iodine. Then, Shagrah bit down. Not roughly or overly painfully, just an easy, effortless sink. Her teeth were sharp, but even more, they were big. Broad, toothy smiles were the norm among orcs. Their teeth were very effective at grinding down meat and bones and other food. They must be good for self-defense, too, Nemo thought. Among other things.
It was painful, but Shagrah was being gentle, clamping down only lightly. Nemo decided she was ready for more. “Harder. Please, Shagrah. I can take it,” she said.
Shagrah kissed and licked over Nemo’s arm. Nemo started to realize that her tongue was not only long, but had a slightly rough, calloused texture with distinct bumps. There was so much about orc anatomy she had to learn about, and perhaps, Shagrah would be an excellent teacher. “Oh, dear Nemo, you’ll have to be careful what you ask for,” she said. “But don’t worry… I intend to oblige your every request.” With that, she chomped down and growled against Nemo’s skin, teeth poking into flesh and gripping hard onto muscle and bone. Nemo yelped.
“Ah fuck… don’t let go,” she said. She was wincing and moaning together, trying to fully comprehend the feeling. She loved, most of all, the sheer attention she was getting. The desire that Shagrah showed, the urge, to taste, touch, and devour her. The way her teeth sank in and refused to be moved, like she was going to permanently moor herself to Nemo, anchor dropping into thick clay.
The pain was exquisite, fire in her muscles, like being squeezed in a vice or between two grooved gears as they began to grind away. But, surprisingly, her skin didn’t feel like it was being shredded. Either she had gotten less sensitive to that type of pain, or Shagrah’s saliva acted as a local anesthetic.
Nemo spoke through breaths and noises. “You probably shouldn’t draw blood, but, um. can you do the other arm?” she said. Finally, Shagrah released her grip. Nemo’s arm felt like fire for a second, and then Shagrah licked the wound. The way her long, textured tongue slowly brushed over the deep impressions left by her teeth was incredibly arousing. Nemo realized she was hard, again, pointing upward like a divining rod.
“Could I get naked?” she said. “These clothes are kinda restrictive and. Um. I wanna show you what I look like. Is that weird?”
“It would only be weird if it was just you. May I?”
“God yes. You’re so fucking hot,” Nemo said, unable to hold herself back from blatant pronouncements at this point. “I want to kiss you…”
“What the fuck are you waiting for?” Shagrah said. Nemo understood that, and she practically tackled the other woman, diving forward across the couch, grabbing Shagrah’s shirt with both hands, and kissing her passionately. The two of them didn’t have time for more formality, for they were hungry. Starving, in fact. Nemo made short work of her own clothes, shoving her skirt down and pulling her vest open. Shagrah’s clothes were slightly more complicated, but only slightly. Working together, the two of them unclasped all her buttons and snaps and pulled off her leather tunic and trousers.
Immediately, she noticed that Shagrah wore no underwear. Her leather outfit was thick and well-built, so perhaps it simply wasn’t needed. At the same time, now that she was actually looking directly at them, Nemo realized that Shagrah’s breasts were among the biggest she’d ever seen this close. Her nipples were a dark green, and perky. All over her body, her skin had the slightly sweaty and soft quality that she’d found so captivating in Shagrah’s hand earlier, at the bar.
Nemo’s arousal had not abated, but now she was just studying her partner’s body. Seeing her like this, the muscles were obvious. She was actually bigger than many of the men she’d seen, including Krade, her friend at the front desk. Her thighs were enormous, and her biceps made her look strong enough to punch out God. She had muscle definition everywhere Nemo could see. It was enough to make her feel self-conscious about her own soft body, with its flesh and flab, and long, straight limbs.
Seeing her up close, Nemo also noticed for the first time the long grooved lines that marked her skin. They ran along her arms and legs in even, equidistant, seemingly never-ending patterns. It had an effect almost like a woodcut drawing, giving her body a distinct and very pleasing texture. They ran from each limb, over her torso, and all lead into her spine, it seemed. Nemo had no way of knowing if they were natural or a body modification, or specific to Shagrah or a universal thing among orcs. She speculated in her mind that perhaps they were like a tree’s rings, and more were added as an orc aged.
“God damn holy fuck,” Nemo said. She had just been staring at Shagrah for long enough that it was noticeable, but Nemo was still caught in the trance.
“I recall you saying you were going to get naked,” Shagrah said. She pulled on Nemo’s bra strap. “Can we please lose these foolish things?”
“Yes,” Nemo said. She didn’t need to be asked twice, and removed her bra in a flash. She had to stand up to take her panties off. Out of everything they’d done so far, this was the moment she found most intimidating.
“I know you know, but… sometimes when people see it… and look, I like it. I like using it. I want— as long as you want it, I want to fuck you with it. Be inside you. God damn, I want that. But sometimes people think they’ll like it, and then—“
With one of those massive, strong arms, Shagrah reached up and put a finger over Nemo’s lips. “Hush. I want to see you. All of you. I want to see all of you, because I want all of you,” she said.
Just nodding, Nemo pulled down her panties and stepped out of them. She held her hands at her sides, awkward, but wanting Shagrah to see everything. Shagrah pushed herself up to get a better view, and just that movement made Nemo’s cock twitch, a little bounce in her direction. Rather than words, Shagrah just released a low, satisfied hum of a moan.
“Darling, can I please take you to bed? If you don’t mind, I’ll even carry you,” she said.
Nemo almost cried at the intimacy of a gesture like that, but held back. This wouldn’t be the moment. Shagrah was not just attractive and interesting and new, she was very special, Nemo realized -- and she was sooner or later going to break Nemo’s heart, even if she didn’t mean to. Nemo was ready to fall in love and fall hard, even when it wasn’t a good idea. But all that could wait. For now, there was just this.
“Please,” Nemo said.
In the bedroom of Shagrah’s suite, both women were loud, enthusiastic, and loving. Shagrah had theatrically kicked the door open, Nemo nestled in her arms, and tossed her onto the big, soft hotel bed. They had kissed over every inch of each other, Nemo taking more time to familiarize herself with this unusual, to her, body. Shagrah seemed to relish the attention, the compliments, the kisses. She certainly enjoyed the extended period of time Nemo spent in between her legs, face held firmly in place.
The most surprising part of the afternoon was exploring penetrative sex. Nemo certainly enjoyed it, especially when her body was reacting with such ease, something it had not done in a long time. If it really was some property of the food or of being here, she might not want to leave. It made it easy to try new positions and new techniques because getting hard wasn’t such a long and difficult process. Another thing that helped that was Shagrah’s strength.
“You see this?” Shagrah said at one point, tapping one of her thick thighs. “This is all muscle. I don’t think it’s possible for you to hurt me, to ‘go too hard’ when you’re inside me. Gentle is wonderful. But if you want to… you can go as hard as you like.”
Naturally, Nemo obliged. At first, the feeling was overwhelming. the sensations were so intense, it was as though she was having sex for the first time. Each new position and new round of action only spurred them on to continue. The new sensations were incredible, and they only improved as they became familiar, again, and again.
Hours passed, and they had thoroughly worn each other out and fallen peacefully asleep. It took so long that by now, the sun was setting. They had both freshened up a few times and now Nemo was looking out the hotel window in Shagrah’s suite’s bedroom.
“Is it okay? I mean… I took up so much of your time right before this huge race, I feel a little…” Nemo said.
From the bed, Shagrah replied. “You have nothing to feel guilty about. The race starts tomorrow but it’s all ceremonial and preliminary stuff. I know you don’t know all about that just yet. I won’t actually be racing for about 36 hours from now.” Too bad we can’t spend it all together, they both, independently, thought, and were too embarrassed to say aloud.
Nemo turned around. “Oh, good… so I don’t have to, um, go, right?” she said.
Shagrah looked sympathetic. “Of course not,” she said. “I would very much like you to stay the night if you wanted.”
“Yeah. Um… not to be too… but after that, it’s. You probably have to move on and everything, right?” Nemo said.
“Do we have to talk about that?” Shagrah said.
“Yes,” Nemo said. “It’s okay if you need to move on. If I know now, I can just process it and appreciate what time we do have.
“After the race… I don’t know where I’ll be mentally. It might not be good to be around me. And my life is complicated. I travel all year long. I have another race two weeks after this one ends, and people I need to see in between. I can’t promise we’ll see each other again,” Shagrah said. To Nemo’s ears, she sounded sad and reluctant to admit what was an obvious truth.
Nemo turned around and leaned down over the bed. “How about I make it so goddamn memorable tonight that you’re aching for me? And you’ll make some time,” she said.
Shagrah reached up and gently scraped Nemo’s neck with her long, sharp nails. “And I’ll leave one too many bite marks, so the next chick you’re with knows where you’ve been.”
The next morning, Nemo departed with a flurry of goodbye kisses. Shagrah had given her a detailed list of ways to contact her along with things Nemo would need to do to stay in touch with people while in Logos. It was a good, reliable, practical guide. Prometheus might not even have this kind of information, since he was a little bit untouchable in that way “highly important people” sometimes are.
She thought of Prometheus because, with her unexpected detour concluded, she had one last item on her itinerary: meeting him to watch the race opening ceremonies at one of the local taverns.
After going back to her hotel to change, choosing some sensible jeans and a plaid shirt this time, she made her way downtown. There, on the ground floor of one of the many chunky round buildings in this part of town, lay her destination. Unusually for Czonkaputt, each floor of the building was cleanly divided, even painted differently, and marked with a sign for a different business. There was no visible means of entrance besides the front door, because there was instead a spiral staircase that ran through the entire tower. It actually started in the basement, for those who didn’t want to enter a slightly disreputable bar, Nemo thought.
The Pickled Primate was a somewhat unusual place. It was what Nemo would call a sports bar — in Czonkaputt, of course, there was only one type of sport people were interested in. The outside of the building featured a lush painting of a gorilla, with a cigar in its mouth, lowering itself into a frosty beer mug as if it were a hot tub. That must be why Prometheus had picked this place — “You can’t miss it. It has a painting of a gorilla sitting in a beer mug,” he had said, and somehow, Nemo was still surprised when she saw it.
The bar itself was made up of two half-circles with a divider in the middle. On one side, the bar patrons sat on the outside of the circle, and on the other, they sat on the inside. The bartenders moved between locations via a circular walkway that was built into the floor. They couldn’t do things simply here, could they? Rather than brave the inner circle, Nemo found a small tucked-away table. She didn’t need to do anything else, because Prometheus found her. He was dressed slickly, in a white and taupe suit. His hair and beard had been cut, clearly he’d healed up significantly and even started to work on his nutrition. To Nemo, he looked like a professional wrestler attending a wedding. And he was pretty handsome, too.
“So. You’ve had a chance to experience a small taste of Logos. What do you think you’re going to do?” he said.
Nemo took a moment to think. “I’m going to stay. I’d like to get to know this place… better,” she said.
“Good! You’re free to make your own choices, but if it’s not too presumptuous, I thought perhaps we could travel together for a little while. This is just one city. There is so much for you to see. And for me to see again, through your eyes, if you’ll allow it,” he said.
Nemo smiled softly. “Yeah. But you gotta let me drive,” she said.
Prometheus laughed, softly at first and then growing into a boisterous cackle. “Of course! God damn. Let’s have a few beers and watch these cars go vroom vroom around a track, please!” he said. He clapped his huge hands together and joined the entire bar in cheers — the race was on every TV in the place. They were just about ready to begin, showing a lineup of drivers and their support crew.
Some of them had their hands locked and their heads bowed in prayer. Some were anointing their cars with oils and other substances. A few, really surprising Nemo, were kissing their partners — or someone, at any rate — passionately and furiously right there on live TV. Then, on screen was a tall orc woman with prominent muscles, beautiful green skin, and a black leather racing suit. Her hair was tied behind her head and a heavy helmet was under her arm. She was one of the most beautiful women Nemo had ever seen, again.
After the long ceremony kicked off, the initial ceremonial laps the racers took, and a few other flourishes, the initial round of actual racing began. Just as Shagrah had said, she wasn’t a part of it, so, after a few minutes, Nemo excused herself and headed back to the Sleeping Iguana. It was time for her to take a little time to herself. She had to start figuring out what daily life would be like here, where she might want to go, and consider, as much as possible, just what the future might hold. Most people didn’t get second chances like this, she thought.
As she passed the front desk, she noticed someone — Krade, the helpful clerk with the big beautiful teeth, strong jawline, and kind eyes. It was time for her to live, was it? She had an idea of where to start. With her elbows on the desk, she leaned over to him and smiled wickedly.
“Krade, when do you get done with work? I need your help with something in my room. But you’re going to have to be off the clock to handle it,” she said.
© Jessica Umbra, 2025
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