A Matter of Survival
A modern Spontoon Island story
© 2022 by Walter Reimer
MacArran Family and the Dukes and Duchesses of Strathdern © mercmarten
Thumbnail art by rabbi-tom
One.
The MacArran J320 was only ten years old, a relative juvenile as jet airliners go, some of whom can be over thirty years old and still performing their designed task of moving people at high speed anywhere in the world. Unlike some of those jets, however, the J320 was designed to give its passengers a maximum of comfort.
The owner of MacArran Aerospace, the current Duke of Strathdern, grumbled in a conscious imitation of the company’s founder (not coincidentally his grandmother) when he exclaimed upon being presented with the first draft of the plane’s interior layout, “Christmas! If we want to cram that many people in, we should stop calling them planes – we should start calling them sardine cans!”
Let the other aircraft companies try to maximize profits by stuffing their planes. MacArran would supply quality over quantity, and the firm’s bottom line confirmed that the founder’s philosophy was the correct one.
The flight attendant walked up to the aisle seat and smiled down at the seat’s occupant. It was usually a very practiced, friendly smile, but in this case the expression was genuine. The canine – he looked like a Shar Pei, with the creases of loose skin framing his resting features - had fallen asleep shortly after the jetliner took off from Eastern Island Airport earlier that morning and had spent the entire flight from Spontoon that way.
Sometimes the feline wished all her passengers were like that. The elderly couple, returning to America from a second honeymoon, seated beside him was almost as good, being totally engrossed in their books.
She poked him on the shoulder. “Sir? Sir?”
The passenger blinked awake. “Hm?” he mumbled.
Again, she favored him with a real smile. “We’ll be landing in a few minutes.”
“Hm? Oh. Thank you, Ma’am,” he said in accented English, and she went off to look after the next row of seats.
There was a chime, audible over the whine of the jets, and the pilot said over the intercom, “Good afternoon, everyone, this is the Captain speaking. We’ll be descending to land at San Francisco in about ten minutes, so please start getting ready to land by putting your seats in their upright positions.” The intercom cut off, and the canine switched on the screen set into the back of the seat in front of him.
The weather at his destination was fairly cool and rainy, according to the local weather forecast. Well, he was wearing a suit, and if that wasn’t sufficient, his fur was denser than the standard Shar Pei coat. Being part wolf had some advantages; his muzzle was somewhat longer, and he was taller and more slightly built than his mother’s side of the family.
The plane barely bounced as its wheels touched down, and while it taxied to the international arrivals terminal the Captain said, “Welcome to San Francisco, ladies and gentlemen, and thank you for flying Golden Dragon Airways.”
He waited and finally joined the queue crowding forward to deplane and headed for Passport Control as soon as he entered the terminal. Aware of the eyes of the security officers, he moved slowly and deliberately in taking his tricolored Spontoon passport and plane ticket from his jacket pocket.
“Your passport, please,” an officious-looking ewe said, and she flipped through the small booklet while occasionally glancing up to look at him. Like all passports, everything was printed in the bearer’s native language, English, and the diplomatic lingua franca, French. “Jasper Wu?”
“That’s me, yes.”
“Business or pleasure, Mr. Wu?”
The canine smiled. “Business.”
She nodded, stamped the booklet and passed it back to him with the briefest of smiles. “Welcome to the United States. Next!” and he moved out of the way for the person waiting behind him.
After collecting the small wheeled suitcase that was his only luggage, Wu turned on his phone, waited for it to find a stable signal, and sent two texts. One went to his home, and the other to his business, and after the second was received he opened a car app that he’d recently installed before boarding the airliner.
The app announced who he was, where he was, and expressed his desire for a lift into the city. Within seconds, he received a reply, with an arrival time listed in seconds. The driver must already be here at the airport, and he stepped out to the curb.
His phone’s screen told him that the car was coming, and a fairly new Kendo sedan pulled up at the curb at the same time that the phone told him that his ride had arrived. The driver was a red panda femme who gave him a cheerful smile as she lowered the passenger-side window. “Hello! You Wu?”
The canine raised an eyebrow at her.
Slowly.
Then he said, deadpan, “Ah, Wu.”
They both started laughing. “Sorry,” the wah femme said, “I couldn’t help myself. I’m Lucy. Just the one suitcase?” she asked as she unlocked the rear door for him.
“I prefer to travel light.”
“Always a good idea when you’re flying.” He put the suitcase on the back seat, and got in up front beside her. “Where to?”
“The Wyatt.”
“Hm, swanky. Seat belt on, please,” and after he had buckled in she steered the car away from the curb, joining the shifting streams of vehicles heading out of the airport.
Her head seemed to be on gimbals, moving around freely on her neck as she tried to see everywhere at once. “Pardon me for saying, but you speak English really well. You from Hong Kong?”
“No,” Jasper said. “Spontoon.”
“Nice,” Lucy said. “My folks are from Hong Kong. Got out before the British gave it back.”
“Ah, I see. So, you were born here?”
Somehow she added an emphatic nod into her constant scanning as the car merged onto the highway. “Lived here all my life. Went to school at Berkeley.”
“I went to NPU. North Pacific University,” he amended as she glanced at him. “Seathl.”
“Oh, that explains it.” Now it was his turn to glance at her and she said, “Had a couple Spontoonie students in one of my classes. Your accent’s a little different from theirs. Rain Island?”
“Good guess,” he said, and she chuckled, switching the wipers on as it started to rain.
The skyscrapers drew nearer, and nearer still, until the sedan was with other cars at the bottom looking up. It reminded Jasper of swimming along the seabed in a kelp forest, the light filtering down around the towering signs of life and habitation.
The Shar Pei-wolf caught himself gulping involuntarily, reminding himself that this entire region was prone to earthquakes.
The Wyatt was on the waterfront facing the inner bay, and he took care to tip his driver. Lucy grinned at the amount when it showed up on her phone. “Thanks! Enjoy your stay.”
“Thank you,” and she drove off as he headed into the hotel.
Checked in and key in paw, Jasper took one of the atrium elevators to his room on the fifth floor and let himself into the room. As soon as the door closed he started sniffing, nostrils flaring as he moved from room to room and making sure that no one was in it before he unpacked his suitcase.
He plugged a small box into the hotel’s internet connection before opening up the computer tablet in the suitcase. A single light on the box flickered before settling down into a steady, cheerful green.
Good; any hacker would find his tablet and any messages he sent or received nearly impossible to intercept and decrypt. It would also make sure that any listening devices would receive only white noise. Satisfied that the room was now secure, Jasper undressed and stretched out on the bed.
He had a few hours before his appointment, so he decided he’d finish his nap before lunch.
***
Back in his suit, minus his tie, Jasper was seated at the hotel’s bar. An empty plate attested to his appetite; the banh mi had been very tasty, and his glass of water had been refilled twice.
“Excuse me?” and Jasper looked up to see a tall feline with tabby-like markings ask, “are you Jasper Wu?”
Jasper grinned and stood up. “Yes,” and he offered a paw to the li hua mau, who took it. “You must be Mr. Han. Your office described you very well. Please, sit down.”
“Thank you,” Han said, taking a seat opposite the canine. “You have already eaten?”
“Yes, but please feel free to order what you like,” Jasper said. “On me.”
Han chuckled softly. “Your company’s expense account?”
Jasper grinned. “Golden Dawn Investments recognizes the importance of maintaining good contacts with its friends here in the United States.”
“That wasn’t always the case.”
The grin faltered. “That’s true.” The canine paused as the waiter came over to their table. Han ordered an appetizer plate and a local craft lager and after the waiter withdrew he said, “But this is not June the Fourth, nor is it The Handover,” and he raised a paw placatingly as Han scowled, “and with conditions here as chaotic as they are now, we have a Heaven-sent opportunity.”
The Dragon Li patted the tips of his fingertips together as the waiter delivered his beer and refilled Wu’s ice water. “So,” he said when they were alone again, “you want us to set aside the past.”
“My grandfather said that the past was the past, and since you can’t change it, you must look to the future.”
“Hmm, yes. Your grandfather.” Han’s plate arrived, and for a while there was no further conversation as the feline ate and the canine sipped at his water, looking around at the huge atrium.
Not necessarily looking for something, while trying to see everything.
At length the feline finished his meal, and when the waiter had carried away the check and Wu’s credit card Han said, “It’s been a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“Please. The pleasure was mine.”
“I would like for you to explain your company’s ideas to my fellows on the board. Say, at three o’clock?”
Wu thought for only a moment before nodding. “Three o’clock, then. I’ll bring a detailed proposal.”
“So.” Han stood and offered a paw. “Until then.”
“Again, thank you for coming to see me,” Wu said, shaking the proffered paw. The li hua mau left, leaving the canine at his table until the waiter arrived with his receipt.
So far, so good.
<NEXT>
A modern Spontoon Island story
© 2022 by Walter Reimer
MacArran Family and the Dukes and Duchesses of Strathdern © mercmarten
Thumbnail art by rabbi-tom
One.
The MacArran J320 was only ten years old, a relative juvenile as jet airliners go, some of whom can be over thirty years old and still performing their designed task of moving people at high speed anywhere in the world. Unlike some of those jets, however, the J320 was designed to give its passengers a maximum of comfort.
The owner of MacArran Aerospace, the current Duke of Strathdern, grumbled in a conscious imitation of the company’s founder (not coincidentally his grandmother) when he exclaimed upon being presented with the first draft of the plane’s interior layout, “Christmas! If we want to cram that many people in, we should stop calling them planes – we should start calling them sardine cans!”
Let the other aircraft companies try to maximize profits by stuffing their planes. MacArran would supply quality over quantity, and the firm’s bottom line confirmed that the founder’s philosophy was the correct one.
The flight attendant walked up to the aisle seat and smiled down at the seat’s occupant. It was usually a very practiced, friendly smile, but in this case the expression was genuine. The canine – he looked like a Shar Pei, with the creases of loose skin framing his resting features - had fallen asleep shortly after the jetliner took off from Eastern Island Airport earlier that morning and had spent the entire flight from Spontoon that way.
Sometimes the feline wished all her passengers were like that. The elderly couple, returning to America from a second honeymoon, seated beside him was almost as good, being totally engrossed in their books.
She poked him on the shoulder. “Sir? Sir?”
The passenger blinked awake. “Hm?” he mumbled.
Again, she favored him with a real smile. “We’ll be landing in a few minutes.”
“Hm? Oh. Thank you, Ma’am,” he said in accented English, and she went off to look after the next row of seats.
There was a chime, audible over the whine of the jets, and the pilot said over the intercom, “Good afternoon, everyone, this is the Captain speaking. We’ll be descending to land at San Francisco in about ten minutes, so please start getting ready to land by putting your seats in their upright positions.” The intercom cut off, and the canine switched on the screen set into the back of the seat in front of him.
The weather at his destination was fairly cool and rainy, according to the local weather forecast. Well, he was wearing a suit, and if that wasn’t sufficient, his fur was denser than the standard Shar Pei coat. Being part wolf had some advantages; his muzzle was somewhat longer, and he was taller and more slightly built than his mother’s side of the family.
The plane barely bounced as its wheels touched down, and while it taxied to the international arrivals terminal the Captain said, “Welcome to San Francisco, ladies and gentlemen, and thank you for flying Golden Dragon Airways.”
He waited and finally joined the queue crowding forward to deplane and headed for Passport Control as soon as he entered the terminal. Aware of the eyes of the security officers, he moved slowly and deliberately in taking his tricolored Spontoon passport and plane ticket from his jacket pocket.
“Your passport, please,” an officious-looking ewe said, and she flipped through the small booklet while occasionally glancing up to look at him. Like all passports, everything was printed in the bearer’s native language, English, and the diplomatic lingua franca, French. “Jasper Wu?”
“That’s me, yes.”
“Business or pleasure, Mr. Wu?”
The canine smiled. “Business.”
She nodded, stamped the booklet and passed it back to him with the briefest of smiles. “Welcome to the United States. Next!” and he moved out of the way for the person waiting behind him.
After collecting the small wheeled suitcase that was his only luggage, Wu turned on his phone, waited for it to find a stable signal, and sent two texts. One went to his home, and the other to his business, and after the second was received he opened a car app that he’d recently installed before boarding the airliner.
The app announced who he was, where he was, and expressed his desire for a lift into the city. Within seconds, he received a reply, with an arrival time listed in seconds. The driver must already be here at the airport, and he stepped out to the curb.
His phone’s screen told him that the car was coming, and a fairly new Kendo sedan pulled up at the curb at the same time that the phone told him that his ride had arrived. The driver was a red panda femme who gave him a cheerful smile as she lowered the passenger-side window. “Hello! You Wu?”
The canine raised an eyebrow at her.
Slowly.
Then he said, deadpan, “Ah, Wu.”
They both started laughing. “Sorry,” the wah femme said, “I couldn’t help myself. I’m Lucy. Just the one suitcase?” she asked as she unlocked the rear door for him.
“I prefer to travel light.”
“Always a good idea when you’re flying.” He put the suitcase on the back seat, and got in up front beside her. “Where to?”
“The Wyatt.”
“Hm, swanky. Seat belt on, please,” and after he had buckled in she steered the car away from the curb, joining the shifting streams of vehicles heading out of the airport.
Her head seemed to be on gimbals, moving around freely on her neck as she tried to see everywhere at once. “Pardon me for saying, but you speak English really well. You from Hong Kong?”
“No,” Jasper said. “Spontoon.”
“Nice,” Lucy said. “My folks are from Hong Kong. Got out before the British gave it back.”
“Ah, I see. So, you were born here?”
Somehow she added an emphatic nod into her constant scanning as the car merged onto the highway. “Lived here all my life. Went to school at Berkeley.”
“I went to NPU. North Pacific University,” he amended as she glanced at him. “Seathl.”
“Oh, that explains it.” Now it was his turn to glance at her and she said, “Had a couple Spontoonie students in one of my classes. Your accent’s a little different from theirs. Rain Island?”
“Good guess,” he said, and she chuckled, switching the wipers on as it started to rain.
The skyscrapers drew nearer, and nearer still, until the sedan was with other cars at the bottom looking up. It reminded Jasper of swimming along the seabed in a kelp forest, the light filtering down around the towering signs of life and habitation.
The Shar Pei-wolf caught himself gulping involuntarily, reminding himself that this entire region was prone to earthquakes.
The Wyatt was on the waterfront facing the inner bay, and he took care to tip his driver. Lucy grinned at the amount when it showed up on her phone. “Thanks! Enjoy your stay.”
“Thank you,” and she drove off as he headed into the hotel.
Checked in and key in paw, Jasper took one of the atrium elevators to his room on the fifth floor and let himself into the room. As soon as the door closed he started sniffing, nostrils flaring as he moved from room to room and making sure that no one was in it before he unpacked his suitcase.
He plugged a small box into the hotel’s internet connection before opening up the computer tablet in the suitcase. A single light on the box flickered before settling down into a steady, cheerful green.
Good; any hacker would find his tablet and any messages he sent or received nearly impossible to intercept and decrypt. It would also make sure that any listening devices would receive only white noise. Satisfied that the room was now secure, Jasper undressed and stretched out on the bed.
He had a few hours before his appointment, so he decided he’d finish his nap before lunch.
***
Back in his suit, minus his tie, Jasper was seated at the hotel’s bar. An empty plate attested to his appetite; the banh mi had been very tasty, and his glass of water had been refilled twice.
“Excuse me?” and Jasper looked up to see a tall feline with tabby-like markings ask, “are you Jasper Wu?”
Jasper grinned and stood up. “Yes,” and he offered a paw to the li hua mau, who took it. “You must be Mr. Han. Your office described you very well. Please, sit down.”
“Thank you,” Han said, taking a seat opposite the canine. “You have already eaten?”
“Yes, but please feel free to order what you like,” Jasper said. “On me.”
Han chuckled softly. “Your company’s expense account?”
Jasper grinned. “Golden Dawn Investments recognizes the importance of maintaining good contacts with its friends here in the United States.”
“That wasn’t always the case.”
The grin faltered. “That’s true.” The canine paused as the waiter came over to their table. Han ordered an appetizer plate and a local craft lager and after the waiter withdrew he said, “But this is not June the Fourth, nor is it The Handover,” and he raised a paw placatingly as Han scowled, “and with conditions here as chaotic as they are now, we have a Heaven-sent opportunity.”
The Dragon Li patted the tips of his fingertips together as the waiter delivered his beer and refilled Wu’s ice water. “So,” he said when they were alone again, “you want us to set aside the past.”
“My grandfather said that the past was the past, and since you can’t change it, you must look to the future.”
“Hmm, yes. Your grandfather.” Han’s plate arrived, and for a while there was no further conversation as the feline ate and the canine sipped at his water, looking around at the huge atrium.
Not necessarily looking for something, while trying to see everything.
At length the feline finished his meal, and when the waiter had carried away the check and Wu’s credit card Han said, “It’s been a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“Please. The pleasure was mine.”
“I would like for you to explain your company’s ideas to my fellows on the board. Say, at three o’clock?”
Wu thought for only a moment before nodding. “Three o’clock, then. I’ll bring a detailed proposal.”
“So.” Han stood and offered a paw. “Until then.”
“Again, thank you for coming to see me,” Wu said, shaking the proffered paw. The li hua mau left, leaving the canine at his table until the waiter arrived with his receipt.
So far, so good.
<NEXT>
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Canine (Other)
Gender Male
Size 797 x 1280px
Listed in Folders
The past may limit the options for the future, but naetheless you cannot let it control you.
Hmmmm....let's see how this turns out....
You've sparked an interest though...
You've sparked an interest though...
For some reason, I think this would be a good Reed Waller comic...
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