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What if? It's a question that leads to great freedom and greater destruction. What if there was a cure for cancer? What if unicorns were real? What if there were a way to reverse climate change? What then? What now? Define "pre-industry," will ya? Ya?

Yeah. I get it.

But honestly, I prefer colder. Subarctic is my jam. After a century of bravery I believe I have started a movement; a counterattack against the red menace. Red fox, orange, light brown? Ha!

I am now the first peach fox! Look at me! Just look at my fur! Ha!

"The last transmission that we know of, ma'am. That's the last thing we know of Captain Troubleshoot..."

And on and on and on and blah blah blah, but honestly, this stuff is great! I feel more powerful, happy, naked and freer than ever before, baby!

I even noticed my fur color changing. White? No! I look like a peachy fox now! A touch of sweet in tha land of bitter! Now, if only I knew where I was on this big, crazy planet.

-Captain Troubleshoot.

Last known whereabouts: near Baxter, Minnesota, United States. 1961-10-08T00:07-06:00.

Last status: unknown.

"Oh my God," said Valerie Thrash, looking at the case file, handing it back to the clerk at the historical society. I may have found her, or it, or whoever they are!

The winged fennec wore a heavy fur coat that day. Faux fur, I assure you. She was in a wheelchair. It wasnt taboo for people to just take one at this point. Many traumas led the world to where it is now. Some more will follow. Such is life.

Strange but familiar, as usual.

People didn't really care what time it was anymore. The entire day was broken up into sliding sixths, in various color-coded periods of light and dark. The top of the clocks were always solar zenith. The bottom nadir. Another ring around them also showed the moon position relative to Earth. Zenith is full. Nadir is new.

Things were not perfect, but getting really close. All that was left was to find the captain. Surely Captain Troubleshoot didnt go down.

The world is their ship at this point.

Chapter One: Take Yer Seat

"We knew the world would not be the same? Let me know when it is and I'll sell ya our bridge! Yaknow?"

"Fear my Southern wrath, greyduck!"

"Uh, can somebody help me find a McDonald's or a place ta eat?"

Random noises, all of which can't be heard at MSP skyport by Lynn. It was not yer usual skyport, ya know?

It was born this way fer what was ta come. Fireproofing even on the frozen tundra that is, well, a special district. Carpet everywhere. No echo except in the restrooms. Signs that are made entirely of color e-ink that don't need to charged for at least a month.

These three terminals do not have a government beyond those appointed to run it. The Cities Team in private, the Metropolitan Council to everyone else. A hub and spoke model within another. Neither Minneapolis nor St. Paul can claim it as theirs, only the State of Minnesota, turboencabulated by design.

All parts of a whole system. At a distance it all looks like grains of sand and dirt grinding thorough a machine. Obviously, it was way more than that.

They were cells. Living, breathing organisms ready ta take off in machines. Machines that could think and feel, just like us. Carbon meeting carbon, hydrogen kisses. That was the Minnesota way, as it is to this day.

This was not yer usual skyport. It

Stall. Stall. Too low, terrain! Too low, terrain!

Now she remembered. It was all coming back ta her. Perfect timing?

She flipped the switch.

"Brace! Brace! Brace! Head down! Stay down!" Even in First Class on this flight.

The masks were down. The hydraulics, if any, made there way back.

She pulled the yoke up one last time.