Unfamiliar was not the word for it. My new sensory organs opened as if by reflex in combination with my consciousness. I looked.

It was odd. I understood the concept of visual sensing, and my body seemed familiar with it, but I couldn’t have even imagined the idea of sensing my surroundings by reflected light. There were these things, colors my expanded vocabulary supplied, which somewhat resembled the stylized aural flows I was familiar with, albeit much more immediately and with much higher resolution than I was used to.

Both my hearing and smell were much weaker than I was used to. Sounds seemed incredibly muted and I was receiving virtually no stereoscopic information from my ears. I could detect approximate strength and distance from noises, but almost no mental image of my surroundings. There was a low roar as if from badly-shielded machinery in the near distance, but even clicking experimentally did not produce the aura-enhanced mental images I was used to. My aura sensing was similarly subdued, although I could still make out the grayish auras of nonliving materials around me.

But sight, sight more than made up the difference. Without even touching it or smelling any scent markers, from far away, I could discern the surface textures of some kind of stone wall with ease. The stones were closely-set, with a wasteful band of mortar both between each stone and between individual offset layers. Bricks my mind supplied the word, the deep coloration, red, providing the clues I needed to identify the material. Each jagged imperfection in these bricks was clearly reflected, and the effect of so much texture being detectable at a range of several feet away was… beautiful.

The system that controlled the Game of War was not perfect, despite its incredible depth of information on those things which were connected to the game. A species and a world that had not interfaced directly with the system, such as this one, was limited by whatever technology was used in the initial scans of the world, by my own species’ drones. Our own survey software, absorbed into the system’s database, had to have made an error of some sort during this world’s classification. There was no way a species of despotic warlords were capable of the kind of artistic beauty and organization this… wall possessed. Especially not for something so obviously utilitarian.

Reassured that these creatures were at least minimally civilized, I was also slightly disappointed. Obviously, a species of builders and artists was less ideal than the barely-sapient agricultural gatherers and cultivators I had envisioned, as they would clearly be less capable of the kind of exposure to danger than I had hoped for. The counterfactor was that I would likely be far more comfortable here than in the savage society that I had envisioned, and their natural gift would make them capable of quickly becoming a powerful defensive force against the invaders. At the very least they could be contained for the length of a comfortable lifespan, and then I could disperse with the knowledge that my new species understood the threat they would be stopping in the future.

Speaking of which I appeared to be prone, as my viewpoint was set at an angle for any species with a local vertical, which these air-breathers clearly were. I could feel the almost indetectable gas entering my breathing apparatus, and reflexively faster breathing quickly overcharged my breathing apparatus. This led to dizziness as my body compensated until I lowered my breathing to a comfortable level. Without thinking about it too hard, my body’s breathing settled into a normal rhythm, and I intended to allow this trend to continue in the future to avoid further bouts of disorientation.

There was an odd sensation along my body where I was laying. The ground was uncomfortably hard and… cold, against my fleshy and exposed endoskeletal appendages. The floppy exterior was partially covered by a sort of thin cloth covering that did little to ward off the ground’s chill, especially with the large exposed areas around where a thorax should be. I only had two walking appendages and knew I would soon need to learn how to use my mobility appendages. They were less sensitive than the upper appendages which I held out in front of me to inspect.

Hands my human brain supplied helpfully. The outer flesh was somewhat disgusting and was clearly far more delicate and easily harmed than smoothly-curved pedipalps and chelate manipulators, but at the same time, they were incredibly delicate, highly sensitive, and flexible fingers pairing well with their flexible minds, proving that these creatures were not only talented artists but accomplished and possibly brilliant tool users. The appendages were flecked with some sort of reddish-brown substance, that was not easily removed.

I tried to regain my equilibrium, rising on my curiously small abdomen to support my weight while the two mobility appendages remained stretched out before me, thick and ungainly body parts coated with a sort of blue and heavily-worn fabric similarly decorated with small red-brown contaminants. My abdomen was clearly designed to support such a position, however, the appendages slightly bent with thick balance pads at each end. Feet, My brain supplied, as some of the discomfort of lying on the hard, cold surface was eased.

Several unfamiliar sensations flooded through me. Each more uncomfortable than the one before. My brain supplied the word, pain. The pain I was somewhat familiar with, and it must be caused by the absurdly unprotected musculature and nervous system. It seemed to be the strongest close to my head, and I raised one of my hands to test delicately at the location.

Touching it seemed to hurt far more than leaving it alone, and it felt like there was some kind of fluid gathered around some kind of penetration. I was immediately gripped by fear. Pain among my people generally meant something was horribly wrong, possibly crippling or even deadly, but as I drew the appendage back there was a coating of a reddish fluid that seemed to resemble a hydrated version of the powdery brown contaminant. Among my people, leaking fluids from some places like the head were deadly, as it indicated an exposed circulatory system and broken exoskeleton, an accidental situation that frequently led to death as your internal pressure was released.

In this case, however, such wounds must be common with an exposed circulatory system, so perhaps this painful breach was not immediately deadly. The pain must be a side effect, not an immediate indicator of a deadly wound. The system had indicated that I was wounded to the point where this being’s soul vacated its physical body, but its living processes had not ceased. Apparently, it had affected minimal repairs to allow my soul to inhabit this new vessel.

It HURT, though, and I gingerly cradled my head while I peered around the alley. This was my new body, my old race was extinct. I had to learn to embrace it and its capabilities instead of criticizing what I perceived to be inefficient design. This creature somehow survived on a 5 G world in an ocean of acid I could no longer detect, and despite its short lifespan, it was supposedly amazingly capable.

My hands encountered a soft, slippery mane of a dark brown color that apparently depended from my head. Many races had vestigial fur from their evolutionary forebears, but this seemed rather extreme. It was matted with blood, on one side, but it extended down to my lower thorax in a surprisingly pleasant fall. Perhaps, as a female, rulership potential was determined by the length of one’s hair? It would probably frequently interfere with many labor jobs, and so maintaining it at a length this long must be quite a chore, indicating more leisure time among the upper classes or more intellectually-oriented pursuits. More clues as to what I could expect on my rise to the top of this primitive, yet oddly beautiful world.

Our own structures tended to be intricate complexes. We would trace the interior of our nests with easily-tracked scent traces to indicate location but generally chose not to waste time on details that would not be apparent unless very close, like smoothed passages or any sort of artistic pursuits in public spaces. Every member of our species was perfectly capable of exuding a sort of thick mucus from our spinnarets, which, upon continued exposure to our liquid Boron environment, hardened into nearly indestructible building materials.

Without vision, our aesthetics tended towards complicated broad shapes that retained refined aura easily, delicate sensory smell, and sonar webs that pleased our own artistic sensibilities, although humans, with their highly developed sight, might consider them ugly and monochromatic if they could actually see through the thick dark brown fluid that made up our atmosphere. Our sonar webs might also be considered an unpleasant humming to their poorly-developed ears.

My ears, I reminded myself, trying to stagger to a locomotive position. It was not easy, and I could understand why they required a balance attribute as I staggered, uncoordinated, trying to find my feet and leaning against the marvelously decorated wall of bricks. Perhaps it would be easier if I used all four limbs? After all, the feet things had manipulative digits just like the hands, albeit vastly less sensitive and facile. But no, the system said ‘bipedal’ which must mean they travel exclusively on the two walking digits.

I would not commit the social faux pas of traveling using the most comfortably familiar method, even if I risked falling in this disastrously high and dangerous gravity without any of the support of warm liquid that I was used to. I looked around, enjoying the sight again, as I tried to gather clues from the environment around me.

Nearby there was what looked like a carrying pouch of some sort, with objects spilling from its mouth. Since it looked inappropriate for the area between buildings where I stood, and there was no one else around to claim the objects, I had to assume that they were tools for the being I currently resided in. Several feet away there was also what looked like a small book, with various plastic pages scattered around it, one of which was a picture that had a mane that matched my own. Perhaps some sort of authorization badge? I quickly collected all of the objects and placed them within the work bag, and realized it had a long strap convenient for placing over the top joint of my arm. At the height, it provided easy access for my hand to retrieve objects from the bag with minimal effort, which could be convenient.

I noticed there was a long, low vehicle, with actual wheels, at the mouth of the topless squared-off city tunnel where I was standing, trying to get my bearings. A woman emerged from the vehicle, which was decorated with white and blue stripes and had the words ‘Chicago Police Department’ printed on the sides. I realized that the local language was sound-based rather than scent-based, and the sign meant that they were in charge of keeping things organized and clean.

The woman was dressed in a blue outfit that matched very closely and had several tools attached, like a uniform. She had short hair, but another residual mane in front of the fleshy hole that she used for communicating and perhaps for food intake. She was much larger than me, built considerably less slender with a more attractively rounded abdomen, and based on my own musculature, hers seemed dramatically larger and covered with an almost undetectable layer of fine fur visible on the bare outer covering of her muscular arms.

Her voice, once I recognized it, was deep and authoritative. Clearly the name has something to do with authority, as hers occupied pride of place squarely in the middle of her face. Despite its short and neatly-trimmed appearance, it was thick and lush and clearly required enormous amounts of care.

“Ma’am. If you could please come to the end of the alley, we would like to check on you and see if you are okay. There were reports of screaming coming from here a few minutes ago, and a white woman fleeing between the buildings followed by some well-known local gangbangers.”

Her voice certainly conveyed authority, but she used an honorific in calling me Ma’am. Obviously, that meant that despite her authority, I was at least slightly higher in status, so I stepped forward confidently, not realizing that the shoes this body had donned dramatically reduced any natural dexterity she might have had as I fell forward and slapped hard, at 5 G’s into the unforgiving stone floor.

Pain erupted from my arm and hand, where I had reflexively slapped while I fell, and an odd noise came from my mouth. Even more oddly, strange liquid… water? Started dripping from my visual sensors as the pain seemed to overwhelm me for a moment.

The woman cried, “Oh shit!” As I very nearly re-injured the wound on my head, I was terrified that I would immediately lose my life, again. The pain was horrifying, but an urge deep within me was screaming that losing my life, either willingly or accidentally, was unacceptable.

She dived forward and put her large, muscular hand on my shoulder, and turned to another, even taller woman with curiously dark skin, who emerged from the vehicle beneath the flashing, colored lights. “What is it?” the Dark woman asked. She had virtually no fur on her head at all, but a similar, although shorter and more curly, adornment on her face as the first, rounder woman. Perhaps among the cleaning and maintenance staff, the facial fur was a status symbol rather than the long hair of the ruling class?

Something about the woman’s scent, although acrid and slightly unpleasant, was oddly soothing. A bit like males in a nest. There was a reason males were invited into a family despite their obvious handicaps. Their pheromones tended to have the effect of encouraging females, even after their first fertility, to produce more eggs. The first fertility was the property of the species, but later production could be assigned to the birthing pools of individual families.

Some families sought breeding for certain talents and keeping the breeding within those families often assured that those talents were present in later generations as well. Inbreeding had led certain elite families to dominate entire subsets of production, leadership, and even artistry. I had hoped that my peculiar talents in agility and survival would allow me to found a new family of potential warriors, despite our inability to create a soul. Immortality might have someday had a different form. Obviously not.

“I think we are going to need an ambulance. She looks like she got pretty fucked up.” the woman said, reaching forward and lifting my chin, a small light, much brighter than the surrounding alley, momentarily blinded me. “Her eyes ain’t blown, so hopefully she don't have a concussion.” she looked at me closely, “You a call girl? You got any identification?” and she turned to the other woman and said “She looks like her head is pretty messed up. There’s blood all over the place.”

The other woman was speaking into some sort of a device that had a speaker on her collar that led to a mechanical box at her waist while she searched the alley. I finally identified the rank insignia on her face. Moustache, my brain supplied. There was something about it, that I couldn’t quite grasp, but with its neatness, I wondered if she was of a higher rank than the one in front of me. It could be important to quickly grasp the local hierarchy.

Oddly, the painful response that led to my eyes leaking also seemed to affect the breathing holes in the center of my face, making them slightly tender and leak slightly as well. The entire reaction was slightly disgusting, and I worked hard trying to reduce the instinctive response to pain, which was making me sniffle. The pain was less intense as I sat there, and I wondered if I had any identification in the bag.

“I think I have been called, yes. My Identity is… Tracy Nutock.” I supplied as she started inspecting the wound with his light production device. I wondered if it was some sort of medical scanner.

She suddenly turned a little, “Hey Nichols, I think… I think there’s some brain in there.” she said, his pale pinkish outer covering turning paler with an almost greenish cast beneath it. I wondered what she was signaling with the color change. There was brain matter in the gooey mess that covered the side of my head? Was that the injury that had caused the soul in this body to flee?”

“There’s brains?” I asked, noting that my own terror was starting to rise again. My own hand started to pale slightly as well, and I realized that it was an instinctive reaction to nausea. Whatever was in my new body was trying to react to the sensation with regurgitation, but I assumed that it would only add to the mess and so tried to prevent it from occurring.

She nodded, “There might be. You seem to be handling things okay. What happened to you? You have a nasty gash on your head, but I don’t see a broken skull. Was someone else murdered here?”

I started to shake my head at her questions, and then rethought the pain. “I don’t know.” I answered. “I had some sort of accident. I believe those are my belongings, but I didn’t see any debris or anything that could be responsible for my injury. I also didn’t see any other…” and my mind suddenly blanked. Murdered. The intentional ending of another being’s life for a reason other than self or species survival.

They had a word for that? A single word?

“I don’t understand?” I said, “I obviously had an accident…”

The other dark woman said, “No, there was something here. We should get the CSI’s out here. There’s a bunch of blood, some bits of what could be brain, and a bunch of footsteps in the blood. I can’t tell much, but we need to rope this off. It looks like someone got knocked into the wall hard enough to smash their head in. We need to collect her purse for evidence.”

They had an actual word for an individual that willingly ends the life of another without provocation. I was surprised I didn’t instantly discorporate. What kind of insane place had I landed in? I could hardly breathe.