position all around us. The facets were taking precision fire, but it was hard to make out who exactly was doing the shooting.
Someone let out a few whistles and a click, and the minigun unleashed a torrent of molten lead, while a plasma-wielding bot slipped out from behind a tree to take up position behind a nearby car. A Blue Star Zoo Model like me, a lavender-furred lion with a pink mane and belly—Ferdinand, my friend from school duty.
Ferdinand fired his plasma rifle at a pair of facets cowering in the bushes and let out another series of whistles and clicks. From behind him, another Blue Star Zoo lion emerged—this one part of the Naturals line, with blond fur and a golden mane. This lion rushed toward the car with a pair of AR15s, snapping off fire as he did, dropping a bot with a well-placed shot and driving another farther into cover.
A large brown teddy bear, all of four feet high, his fur mottled with bullet holes, strode into view carrying the minigun that was making so much noise. Behind him was another Blue Star Zoo Model—a tiger. He looked identical to me save for his pattern of stripes—we were all meant to be unique—and half the microfiber fur on his face was charred off the left side. He carried a grenade launcher, which let out a thunk as it tossed a gas grenade into a cluster of facets. The grenade belched out a pillar of smoke, blocking the line of sight between the facets and us.
Then from behind us came another bot—but not a model I recognized. It was an anthropomorphic golden retriever, the same size as the rest of us, carrying a plasma rifle. Her mouth opened and her tongue panted as if she were smiling.
“This way,” she barked, then motioned behind the house. She bolted, and Ezra gave me a quizzical look.
“I guess they’re friendly,” I said as I snatched up my discarded plasma rifle, and together we ran after the retriever.
We scrambled through the open fence, past a pool and deck furniture upon which the remains of what was once a family lay, to a limestone outcropping that formed a natural property divide. The golden retriever turned and offered her cupped hands to Ezra to give him a boost. Ezra looked at me and I nodded. In his foot went, and the retriever shot him up the rock face to a slope that vanished into a natural forest in the unbuildable space behind the houses.
The retriever and I both scaled the wall ourselves, vanishing with Ezra into the woods.
Behind us, the shooting abruptly stopped.
There’s something entirely unsettling about the silence after a gunfight. It was something I never knew before a few short days ago. When the shooting starts, it’s its own thing—chaos, fear, confusion. But when it stops, there’s only fear. Like you missed something, or someone is sneaking up on you. Unnerving.
We pushed forward as quietly as we could along a dirt footpath, most likely stamped out by the deer that lived in this area, trekking in nightly to munch on the grass of the surrounding lawns. Soon we came across a small copse of trees, behind which a number of children were clearly hiding. Try as they might, arms, legs, shoulders, and bits of sweatshirt poked out from an assortment of locations.
And there, in the center of it all, stood another Blue Star Zoo Model teddy bear—white belly, black arms and legs, and a white face with black circles around the eyes—the ever-popular panda model. He leveled a shotgun in my direction.
“Operating system mode status report,” the panda said. “Passcode unicorn unicorn delta freebird.”
My programming once again took over. “Operating mode: Mama Bear. All capabilities engaged. OS 10.631. Would you like to alter parameters?”
The panda smiled. “I told you, Indy.”
“I didn’t say he wasn’t, Benny,” said the retriever.
“Yeah, you did.”
“I was saying he wasn’t very good, is all.”
“I what?” I asked.
“She said,” came a familiar voice from behind me, “that you aren’t very good at what you’re doing.”
I turned and saw a friendly face. Ferdinand.
He put out a furry purple paw. “Pounce.”
I shook his hand. “Ferdinand.”
“Welcome to the Mama Bears.”
“The—”
“Yes.”
“So you’re all . . .”
The rest of the squad emerged from the woods behind Ferdinand. “Yep,” said the minigun-carrying teddy bear. “Every last one of us.”
“Kids?” said Ferdinand to the loosely concealed children. A dozen of them slipped out from behind the trees and bushes, all of different ages, except that half