For seventeen-year-old Kaelen, growing up in the floating garden-city of Aethelburg, this was the only world she—or he, or they—had ever known. Pronouns had shifted to “kai” and “kir,” a linguistic echo of wholeness. Every Fusion could, if they chose, carry a child or sire one. Puberty brought a gentle blossoming of both sets of traits, and society had rearranged itself around the simple fact of universal potential.
Kaelen’s best friend, Lior, was a builder of sky-ships, with calloused hands and a habit of humming while they worked. “You’re thinking about the old world again,” Lior said one afternoon, not looking up from a turbine casing. futaworld
Lior leaned kir head on Kaelen’s shoulder. “The Equilibrium was supposed to make a place for everyone.” For seventeen-year-old Kaelen, growing up in the floating
“Find what you were looking for?” Lior asked. Puberty brought a gentle blossoming of both sets