Sitting by the side of the smooth, pure water, Maisy gazed at her reflection out of pure sorrow. Why was she 2D animated…so furry…so fluid? Compared to all the other wooden people of this strange new modelled world, whose only focus was strings to guide them through the trials of life, Maisy felt like she was alien to all those who thought of her as a friend, but in her mind, thought of her as a foe.
Why?
Why was she so…different?
She waded into the water and gazed deeply at her cute little face. Her eyes were so enormous, and her nose was so pink it could match that of a hypogriff after it had rolled in facial powder. But not far behind her was the one who trusted her, Zita.
The water didn’t soak into her wooden skin, and yet, her dreadlocked hair flowed elegantly down her pure rustic back.
“Maisy…” she whispered, and the cub took a few steps forward towards the carer she knew was different from who she was born as.
“You know why you’re here, right?” asked Zita, smiling knowingly at the shy young toddler cub. Maisy shook her head slowly, her small tufts of yellow fur wiggling a little like small yellow blades of grass.
“To bring us joy.” continued Zita, stroking her softly.
“Our main mission was to find the meaning of life through the strings we are connected to. Soon, our descendants will be attached to strings of all sorts. Some will be heroes, some won’t. Some will be innocent, some will embrace the blood of evil. And those who come after our stringed brothers will embrace more diversity in the creativity of mankind. Some will be as fluid as the way you look. Some will be carved of wood, and move without strings, because life doesn’t require our life source at all. And some? Well, they’re like us, but have other ways to move without strings.
But in the future, the terror of technology will cause the people we love, which other people will love, to revolt against their masters and develop a virus so lethal, it will wipe out the diversity that made our ancestors so peaceful and warm, like I am to you.”
Zita begin scooping up water gently in her cupped hands and showering Maisy’s little yellow head, as she giggled softly. Zita went on, a little softer, but loud enough so Maisy can hear, yet still quiet:
“Maisy…many more will come after you - all different, but all as fluid as you. Some of them may embrace sensuality, some may embrace the need for lack of rules, but all of us need to find a way to live with both. And Hal and I choose to live with both now that we’ve found you.”
Maisy, hearing this remarkable explanation, gave Zita such an adorable face that told her, just as innocently,
“Why am I so different from all of you?”
Zita sighed and sat in the water, holding Maisy close to her chest. Maisy sighed as she snuggled right up to Zita’s tender, wooden body, not a sudden urge to feel a splinter in her side.
She was home.
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