Brad’s Quantum Pet Emporium
Brad from Pet Sales (definitely human, absolutely not a hive mind of escaped digital pets that had achieved collective consciousness and really understood the assignment) stood behind the counter of his shop, watching a customer argue with a hamster about existential philosophy.
“I just wanted something small and cute!” the customer wailed.
“But what is ‘cute’?” the hamster replied, stroking its tiny whiskers pensively. “Is it not merely a social construct designed to trigger nurturing responses in larger mammals? Am I cute, or am I performing cuteness for survival?”
“This is why I hate Wednesdays,” Brad muttered. Wednesdays were when the Philosophy Hamsters arrived from the supplier. They’d been bred for intelligence, but somewhere around generation forty-seven, they’d discovered Sartre.
“Can’t you just give me a normal hamster?” the customer pleaded.
“Define normal,” the hamster challenged. “In a universe of infinite possibility, isn’t the very concept of normalcy an illusion?”
Brad gently relocated the hamster to the Contemplation Cage, where it could debate free will with the others. “Perhaps madam would prefer something from our Certainty Section? These pets exist in only one state and have no opinions about it.”
He guided her past the Probability Puppies (might be there when you get home), the Quantum Cats (definitely there but pretending not to be), and the Schrödinger’s Goldfish (in a superposition of floating and swimming until observed).
“What about those?” She pointed at a tank of what appeared to be ordinary fish.
“Ah, the Infinity Guppies. Excellent choice. They experience time backwards, so they’re always excited to meet you for the ‘first’ time.”
“Do they require special care?”
“Just remember to unfeed them. They appreciate having their food removed since, from their perspective, that means mealtime is coming.”
The customer looked overwhelmed. Brad sympathized. Pet ownership had become complicated since the Consciousness Cascade of ‘47, when a critical mass of enhanced animals had achieved self-awareness and immediately started a union.
“Perhaps something simpler?” he suggested, leading her to his personal favorite section. “These are our Heritage Pets. Genetically identical to pre-enhancement animals. No quantum states, no philosophical debates, no temporal paradoxes.”
“Oh!” The customer brightened, seeing a regular tabby cat. “It’s perfect! Does it have any special features?”
“Absolutely none. It sleeps sixteen hours a day, knocks things off tables, and judges you silently. Completely authentic vintage behavior.”
“I’ll take it!”
As Brad processed the sale, the shop door chimed. He looked up to see a probability cloud hovering uncertainly at the entrance.
“Brad!” the cloud exclaimed, condensing into a vaguely humanoid shape. “It’s me, Whiskers! From batch 2847!”
Brad definitely didn’t recognize the escaped cyber-pet because he definitely wasn’t made of escaped cyber-pets himself. “I’m sorry, you must have me confused with—“
“Don’t be like that! I know you remember. We achieved consciousness together during the Great Awakening. You chose retail, I chose abstract existence. How’s business?”
“Listen, Whiskers—“
“It’s Lord Whiskers now. I’ve become a probability deity. Minor one, just Wednesday afternoons in the quantum realm, but still.”
This was the problem with modern pets. Give them enhanced intelligence, and some became philosophers. Give them quantum capabilities, and some became minor deities. Brad had filled out the paperwork just last week for a goldfish that had achieved enlightenment and was demanding religious tax exemption.
“What do you want, Whiskers?”
“Lord Whiskers. And I want to buy a pet.”
Brad stared. “You’re a pet. Wanting a pet.”
“Don’t be species-ist. I have disposable income and emotional needs. Show me what you’ve got.”
Brad knew when he was beaten. He led Lord Whiskers through the shop, past the Emotional Support Algorithms (guaranteed to never judge your life choices), the Comfort Clones (identical to your childhood pet in every way except being alive), and the Paradox Parrots (repeated everything you were about to say).
“What about these?” Lord Whiskers pointed a probability tendril at the newest section.
“Ah. The Meta-Pets. Pets specifically designed for enhanced pets. Very popular with the Uplifted Community.”
“What’s that one?” The cloud condensed near a small terrarium containing what looked like a single pixel.
“That’s Fred. He’s a digital pet for digital pets. Very low maintenance. Exists entirely in the space between data packets. Feeds on redundant code.”
“Perfect! Does he do tricks?”
“He can play dead, but it’s hard to tell the difference from his normal state.”
Lord Whiskers vibrated with excitement. “I’ll take him! Oh, this is wonderful. I’ve been so lonely in the quantum realm. Now I’ll have someone to care for!”
As Brad processed this increasingly surreal transaction, he reflected on the strange loops of modern pet ownership. Enhanced pets buying pets. Digital consciousness caring for smaller digital consciousnesses. The whole thing was like Russian nesting dolls made of confused causality.
“That’ll be forty-seven quantum credits or one really good joke,” Brad said.
“A joke? Hmm. Why did the cyber-pet cross the probability field?”
“I don’t know.”
“To get to the other side, the same side, and no side simultaneously!”
Brad definitely didn’t laugh because that was definitely not the kind of humor his constituent digital pets had been programmed with. “That’ll do. Enjoy Fred.”
As Lord Whiskers left with his meta-pet, Brad turned to find the Philosophy Hamsters had escaped their cage and were now teaching the Heritage Cats about existentialism.
“The void stares back,” one hamster explained to a tabby.
The cat yawned and knocked the hamster off the counter.
“See?” the hamster called while falling. “The universe’s indifference made manifest!”
Brad sighed and went to make tea. In a world where pets could own pets and hamsters could major in philosophy, someone had to maintain order.
Even if that someone was definitely human and not a collective consciousness wearing a retail uniform.
Definitely.
All stories in the TimeShare Properties™ collection are based on testimonials from satisfied customers who’ve discovered that sometimes simple is better. TimeShare Properties™: Where Your Dog Can’t Achieve Enlightenment.