"Even your grandpaw's book makes more sense than my dreams! And that book has angry snowflakes that are actually dimensions or something!"

"Fractals," my grandfather corrected wearily.

"Bless you!" Nessy responded. "Is that German? It sounds German. Everything sounds German if you say it angry enough. FRACTALZH!" She barked it gutturally. "See? Totally German."

"Fractals prove the holographic nature of reality," my grandfather quoted.

"Why would you want to know that reality's fake?" Nessy huffed.

"So that you could escape to actual reality," Grandad replied.

"That's like a sadge thing. Massive sadge. Alec, just so you know I don't care if reality's fake, 'cus you're gonna be my bestie no matter what." Nessy bobbed. "What's your real reality anyway Mr. Foster? Is it that game, Plants Versus Prads? Cus the main character there is also named Dan?"

My grandfather made a bothered noise.

"Escaping reality sounds passe," Nessy commented as I opened the door cautiously expecting a face-full of dog. No Nessy-glompage followed. The husky had her dark nose inside of grandpa's book. "Is there a way to bind someone to yourself?"

"What are you binding to what?" My grandfather asked.

"I'd like to bind the idea of myself to the idea of Alec," Nessy pursed her dark lips. "Forever. Across everywhere. So he can't escape my fuzzy clutches."

"I already can't escape your clutches," I pointed out.

"You can't escape physically. Sometimes." Nessy stated. "But, like, what if souls are real and you fall off a cliff again and break your neck?"

"I only fell off a cliff once," I huffed.

"And I heroically rescued your butt," Nessy puffed up like a pigeon. "But what if I wasn't around due to… reasons?"

"Let me see here." Grandfather flipped through the book. "Ah! Here we go. Dagaz. Infinity. Number Eight. This can divide something away from something like a sword that slices through anything or bind something like a soul together."

"Ohhh yeah, that'll do nicely," Nessy grinned, staring at the book page. Then she looked at me like I was the most delicious pie in the universe. Then she asked, "Wait, what's hologfractal mean?"

"Holofractal, no G there. It means our reality is mathematically most likely just a projection from a higher dimension," Grandfather explained with the patience of a saint or someone who'd simply given up.

"Like a movie?"

"Sort of, but—"

"WE'RE IN A MOVIE!" Nessy shrieked with delight. "Quick! Everyone look attractive! Oh wait, I always look attractive. Alec! Look attractive! Do something with your hair!"

"My hair is fine," I voiced.

"LIES! I gotta fix your hair stat in case future us are watching the present us through a magic cinema that projects the past into their minds!" The hurricane-girl flashed to my side and began licking her paws and my hair, trying to fix up the dark mop atop of my head.

"Nessy, come on," I protested. "We're not watching ourselves from the future…"

"There! Good enough. Hi future Ness, I hope that you succeed at everything we set out to do!"

She waved at nobody in particular and started to hop around the RV sniffing things.

"Is this new?" She pulled out an old-looking leather book from one of the book-stuffed shelves. "Smells new. Well, new old. Old but new to this locale."

"Yes," my grandad said.

"Look, look," Nessy waved the book in front of my face. "It's like Frankenstein but prad. I bet a prad author wrote it."

I looked at the leather-bound tome Nessy wave shoving into my direction.

"Frankenstein and The Modern Calypso, hmm?" I considered the title and the drawing of a pradi-ish girl on the cover.

"Yus," Nessy said. "We should read it together... under a bigly willow tree. 'Cus gothic romanticism is best theme for reading under willow trees!"

"Is it though?" I arched an eyebrow. "They forced us to read The Sorrows of Young Werther in English class last year and that was horrible."

"Yeah but not all gothic romanticism is like that," Nessy huffed. "Some of it like Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Seas is, like, amazeballs. Many feels! Much Romanticism of the ocean science! Werther had some feels, yes, but not the right kind of feels. Dude cried a lot over a girl he could not have for like every chapter," Nessy dismissed the German classic with a careless wave of her hand. "Crying is an ineffective approach. Doing stuff is how you get... things done."

"Riiiight."

"This book is clearly about doing stuff," Nessy stated.

"Stuff?"

"Sewing stuff to stuff!" Nessy pointed at the cover. "See, the monster's a human with many animal parts sewn to her. Like... jellyfish, shark, dog and cat!"

"That sounds uncomfortable," I noted. "How would that even work?"

"I dunno." Nessy shrugged. "1790 Science?"

"1790 science isn't any better at attaching animal parts to people than modern medicine. Also, I don't recall Victor Frankenstein making a... cat girl," I said.

"That's your boring ass human book," the husky stated. "By Mary Shelly or whatever. This is written by..." She squinted at the author's name. "N. Six! Sounds like a pseudonym of a prad. Bet Six is a dog like me! Dogs write best human-prad fics!"

"Uh-huh."

She sniffed the book and then stared at me. "According to the synopsis here, Victor didn't run away and embraced his creation! 'Das a gold star for parenting! You do not run from the shark-tiger-lady. You give her head pats and snacks!"

I chortled.

"Oh! And listen to this part! Victor teams up with Napoleon! The little angry French guy! They make a pact to subjugate all nations! World domination via shark girls! To reach the stars! Alec! We need to reach the stars via monster girl team assembly! Is basically our life goals!"

"Since when is world domination our life goal?"

"Since always! We just lack a Napoleon. And a budget. And a Victor." She licked the cover affectionately. "Mmmm... 1790 French commune flavor with hints of revolution."

"Out," my grandfather said abruptly, snatching the Frankenstein & Calypso book from Nessy.

He pointed a calloused finger toward the RV door. "Take your revolution and book licking elsewhere. I require peace to contemplate the fractal nature of the universe."

"But Mr. Foster! We haven't even discussed the ethical implications of fusing sea creatures with people!"

"OUT."

"Okay okay! We are going!" Nessy grabbed my wrist with a grip that could crush walnuts. "Come on, Alec! The mall awaits! We must secure the perimeter and get there before all the good smells are taken!"

"Smells can't be taken, they're—"

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

"ANYTHING CAN BE STOLEN IF YOU'RE GRABBY ENOUGH!"

She started pulling me toward the door. "Come on! Infinite possibilities! Finite budget! Theoretical fun! Practical nonsense! Let's go go go go go!"

"At least let me put on shoes—"

"Ughh, you humans and your shoes," she lamented.

"Would you rather I be a prad?" I asked.

"No way, there's already a prad here," she pointed at her chest. "Moi. Uno prad. No other prads allowed."

"Cus you'd murder them all?"

"Quite possibly. I don't trust other prads."

"Hmrmm. What if they're your clones?" I finished pulling my shoes on, grabbed my ratty backpack and opened the door.

"Clones are boring," Nessy huffed. "That would reduce my uniqueness levels."

"Okay, fine," I conceded. "What if they're copies of a single… soul in different girl prad bodies?"

"That is the dumbest thing I heard," Nessy declared. "Aren't you supposed to be a nerd? How would that even happen?"

"I dunno," I shrugged. "Just imagining cool stuff."

"Oi, imagine your harem somewhere else," Nessy huffed. "I'm a Goodly Nazarite. None of whatever you're imagining is mathematically or physically possible."

Somewhere else? Wait. I caught onto her words. Finally, a way to stop my best friend from smothering me with her husky ways. I put my fingers to my temples.

"What are you doing? What's with the constipated face?"

"I'm imagining my future harem."

"No! Stop it!"

"Not gonna. You can't control my thoughts."

"DON'T WORRY! YOUR GRANDSON WILL BE RETURNED MOSTLY INTACT!" Nessy called into the trailer before slamming the door shut.

Mostly intact? That didn't bode well.

I decided that it was time to run.

I didn't get very far, as Nessy pounced on me with a growl.

We went tumbling across patchy grass, the husky trying to pin me down while I desperately attempted to shield my face from her aggressive grooming attempts.

"Stop! Imagining! Harems!" She punctuated each word with a lick to my head, making my hair stick up in increasingly ridiculous directions.

"Never!" I wheezed, trying to roll away. "I'm imagining... a whole pack... of pretty prad girls!"

"LIES AND SLANDER!" Nessy shrieked. She was laughing too hard to maintain her grip. "Fine! You know what? I have imaginary friends too! Better ones! 'Cus they don't imagine harems!"

She released me and bounced to her feet, tail wagging triumphantly. I sat up, spitting out grass and trying to flatten my now thoroughly cowlicked hair.

"Imaginary friends who don't imagine imaginary harems?" I asked, brushing dirt off my jeans. "What are you, five?"

"Imagination has no age limit!" She declared, already bounding toward the sidewalk. "Come on! I'll tell you about them on the way to the mall! Wait, no, I gotta imagine them first, damn it. Ughhh… effort."

I chortled as I exhumed my old, slightly rusted mountain bike from the precariously leaning junk pile.

The husky practically vibrated down the street, occasionally stopping to sniff particularly interesting fire hydrants or chase a butterfly for three seconds before getting distracted by something else.

"Got it! No… that's lame," I heard her mutter as she scrunched her nose. She seemed extra-dedicated to imagining her imaginary best friends now.

We went through town, then the mountain tunnel lit by flickering orange lights, then got onto the winding Ferguson Valley road. Soon enough, Dimsdale Avenue exit sign appeared in view.

In another ten minutes, I dismounted from the bike. Nessy, panting furiously, climbed into the metal trash bin and began to furiously dig through it.

"Seriously?" I asked.

"What?" She stuck her black and white mane from the trash bin. "One person's trash is another husky's treasure. I'm not made of infinite money."

There was clanking, a triumphant "HAH!", then the sound of someone bonking her skull. "Ow. Worth it!"

She popped out, raccoon-chic, holding a stub of battered pink sidewalk chalk like she'd pulled Excalibur from a landfill. "Behold! The wishstick."

"That's chalk."

"Shush. It's destiny compressed into a pentagon! Five sides for five BFFs!"

"Five BFFs?" I stepped back to avoid the odours emanating from the husky. "That's a lot of BFFs." I momentarily imagined four Nessies twirling around me, burying me in four times as much attention.

A most horrible fate.

"Shush," Nessy chided me. "A group of five is the perfect amount of BFFs to form a dungeon delving party."

"Where are you gonna find dungeons to delve in?" I wondered.

"Don't know," she shrugged. "Dungeons are prolly SUPERRRR common in the future. Quality BFFs? Now those are hella rare. First we need to manifest our future best friends. Step one is imagining them."

"Did you imagine them already?"

"Duh. Behold!"

She fluttered to the back, gray concrete wall of the Superstore.

Nessy planted her feet, tongue out in concentration, and went to work.

First: broad pink arcs. "Raptor," she narrated, sketching talons, a long tail, the suggestion of feathers and a lopsided expression that somehow looked smug. "This is Kristi, except she's nice."

"Kristi is nice," I said. "She gave me a bento box that one time I forgot lunch."

"No!" Nessy declared. "That's just clever girl raptor lies. She's only acting nice to you to steal you from my paws."

"Riiiight."

Second figure emerged from Nessy's chalk-wall-artistry: sharp ears, floofy tail, sly grin. "Fox. She steals corporate secrets but only from corporations that deserve it."

"So all of them?"

"Correct." Nessy flicked her wrist, added a tiny heart-shaped nose. "Hrm. She needs a magic power."

"How about gluing stuff to stuff?"

Nessy stared at me.

"What?"

"That's dumb. I'm vetoing your ideas forever."

I rolled my eyes.

"Reported for expression-slander. Put those eyes down."

The third sketch began.

"Cheetah?" I guessed.

"How'd you do that?" Nessy spun around, squinting at me.

"I dunno," I shrugged. "Educated guess?"

"Hrmmm, sneaky hobbitssses, reading my mind," Nessy spun back to the wall, drawing a jacket with a ridiculous number of studs. "Cheetah, yes. She's like super mean but' stronk."

"Why?"

"I dunno."

"Maybe her family's mean?" I suggested.

"Ughhhh, stop ruining my imaginary future besties with gritty realism. Nobody likes gritty realism, Alec. She's mean cus…" Nessy pursed her lips. "Cus' she's a badass girrrrl with a heart of gold. There."

"Is she in a biker gang too?"

"No. Stop violating my imaginary friends with your gritty realism. Draw your own besties."

"Maybe I will."

"Good, go do that. Shooo."

I realised that I didn't have a chalk to draw with, but asking Nessy to split the chalk meant making a concession to her.

"So? Why aren't you drawing?" She asked.

"Corrupting your ideas is more fun," I grinned.

"Mean. I should unfriend you forever on Pradstagram."

"Who would you harass with dog memes if you unfriend me?"

"Ughhh, fine, you win this round you dastardly human," the husky growl-laughed, focusing on her wall art. She scribbled a tiny speech bubble near the cheetah: "NO WEAK SAUCE. I CLAIM U, TATER!" Then, humming, she started the last figure.

At first I thought she was doodling me: lanky human, dumb hair, hoodie. Then she drew some kind of mess. Inside the chest. A snowflake or something. Then branches rising up through the ribs, splitting and curling, peeking out above the head like antlers. She added one, two, three crude little circles on the right hand.

"Okay," I said. "So that's your Wendigo best friend."

She stopped, looking scandalized. "Excuse me?"

"You literally gave him antlers."

"These aren't antlers. They're branches. Antlers say 'headbutt'!" She flashed from the wall to headbutt me from the side. "Branches say 'photosynthesis, baby'. Entirely different vibe." She dabbed four more circles on the hand.

"What are those?"

"Extra eyeballs. In case of seeing more stuff."

"Right." I folded my arms. "And who, exactly, is Tree Antler Boy?"

She squinted at me like I'd failed the world's easiest riddle. "Obviously you."

"I don't have antlers."

"Branches."

"I don't have branches."

"You have metaphoric branches," she declared. "Inside bones. Secretly. In case of emotional weather."

"That's not a thing."

"It's going to be a thing when I make it a thing." She stood back, proud, hands on hips. The four chalk figures lined the wall like a team poster for some kind of illegal sport. "Pack."

"Pack?"

"Yeah!" She pointed from raptor to fox to cheetah. "Friends. Then pointed both thumbs at the branch-headed human. "Anchor."

"Why do I get to be the anchor?"

"Because you're so dense."

"Wow. Remind me again why we're friends?"

"It's 'cause you're stubborn like a tree. And because when things go weird, you don't run. You… plant. Then the rest of us will tie ourselves to you so we don't get blown away by winds of entropy."

"Winds of entropy? Sounds like a metal band," I laughed. "Are you done with this nonsense? Because I want breakfast. Superstore's gonna open soon."

Nessy stared at the wall. "Damn it. I forgot to draw myself."

"You're not your own imaginary best friend." I pointed out.

"Shush. This is future Nessy," she quickly drew herself hugging the antlered Alec. "There. She's less me but also me. Cus… fractals."

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