Author Notes: I am addressing here a concern that has developed recently with my stories. Specifically, I want to talk about my lack of reviews. I have received only three reviews for this story so far, and yet I know you're all out there because it's gotten 59 hits! The reason I write is to get reviews. I want to know how people react to what I write. So please, don't just read my stories, tell me what you think of them!

It was nine fifteen at night, or so it was in 625s head, but he was never wrong about those kinds of things. Everything was dark, too dark for most species, though he could still see the silhouettes of the various oversized mechanisms scattered about the room.

625 still sat in that giant chair, his body utterly limp and lifeless, and his eyes half closed. Some amount of orange soda had dried against his hip and leg, matting his fur. Still, he paid no attention. Distant sounds permiated the atmosphere. Ducts clanged and whispered all throughout the ship. Electrical circuits whistled far out the hearing range of the land whale in the other room, and just out of the hearing range of humans. 625 though, could make it out in complete detail. Every minute change in pitch, tone and volume from every direction told him exactly where the circuit pathways were, how strong they were, whether or not the were insulate, what direction the current flowed, as well as every last flaw that could be found. The entire power grip of the ship was mapped out in his mind just from listening to that hum. It was pouring down rain outside, which made a very peculiar sound when beating down against ship's metal hull. An occasional metallic rattling could be heard from somewhere. It couldn't be told exactly what that was, possibly swinging chains or an open locker swaying about. 625 noticed all of these sounds, but paid attention to none of them.

He stared into space with his half open eyes, so still, breathing so shallow that anyone who didn't know better might think he was dead. A slight trail of saliva ran down the side of his mouth. He zoned out entirely, not quite awake but not quite asleep either. He observed nothing. He thought nothing. He felt nothing. He was good at that. Then again he'd had plenty of practice.

One sound in particular would eventually catch his attention though. It was a constant clicking. It was different from any of the others because it had no discernable rhythm, no pattern. It was starting to get annoying.

625 couldn't take it any longer. He focused. The sound was coming from the adjacent room, as was a slight grumbling. 625 was very familiar with that sound, and he didn't like it in the least. However, the force of irritability had thus far not overcome the force of lethargy, until now. Perhaps it was because of the mood he was in, what he had been reminded of not twenty minutes ago that he actually wanted to go in there and stop that noise. It wasn't because he was actually motivated to do anything now, but rather because he knew that if he went into that room he would be further reminded of his days of greatness so long ago. He didn't want to be reminded for the most part, but a very small piece of him did, and that was enough to make him lean forward and stand up.

625 wiped the saliva from his lip and chin and hopped down off the massive chair. He left it still littered with breadcrumbs, dried soda and its empty can. The slight clicking and shifting continued, as did the grumbling. 625 walked over to the large automatic door at the end of the room. He shifted his weight on the floorboard beneath his feet and the slit down the middle of the door whined just before the two halves slid in opposite directions into the wall.

625 squinted as the light from the room shone in his eyes. It was just a lamp, but so long in total dark had made them sensitive. It was less than a second before they were readjusted, and he relaxed again.

Gantu lay in his huge ovoid bed propped up and leaning against the wall behind it. He was growling Tantalog obscenities under his breath while fumbling with a tiny block in his hands. 625 knew what it was since Gantu had been struggling for the past month with it. It was some kind of human puzzle device. It was a block made of smaller interconnected blocks in such a way that the entire thing could be contorted and rearranged within itself. You were supposed to reorganize the block so that each face showed only one color. Gantu called it a Rubix Cube, as per the human tradition.

"It's been over a month and you still haven't gotten anywhere on that thing?" 625 spoke up.

Gantu growled and threw the cube to the ground. It bounced once and rolled toward the door. 625 followed the device with his eyes

"I'd like to see you do any better." Gantu spat daringly.

"Hmm." Grunted 625 as he put his fists to his hips.

25 took a few steps toward the cube and picked it up. He tumbled it about in his hands. The thin was an unintelligible mess, but in 625's brain geometry began to unravel. He closed his eyes to give himself a darkness to better focused on the shapes he was crunching in his head. Everything fell together in an instant. With his eyes still closed, he emptied his brain and just let his hands do what they would. Gantu's eyes and mouth opened wide and he leaned forward. 625's hands were a blur of motion. In a little over five seconds, he opened his eyes and looked down at his cube, now with only a single color covering each face.

"How did you do that?" Gantu asked.

"Hmm." 625 grunted. "That's nothing compared to what Jumba would make me do back in the lab."

Before Gantu go out another word, 625 had turned around and headed back out the door with cube in hand. It shut behind him. 625 faltered back over to the chair and jumped up on top of it. He slouched down against the back and held the Rubix Cude out in front of him. His eyes had already adjusted back to the darkness. He saw each side in a perfect uniform color from only five seconds of effort.

"Puzzles." 625 whispered to himself. "It started with puzzles, then it went to physique. That's how I got to know her."

He sat on a cushy chair. It was cushy! It was so unlike anything he'd ever felt before. He ran the bare parts of his paw against the seat. Even the bed he slept in last night wasn't like this. It was soft yes, much unlike the hard metal surfaces he was used to before, but this was still different. The bed, its pillows and its blankets were soft, unlike metal, but they were smooth, like metal. This was soft, and the opposite of smooth. It was fuzzy. After thinking about it for a moment, 625 decided that this is what fur might feel like if it were trimmed extremely short.

That was enough of that then. There were more important things to attend to at the moment, such as what was in front of his face. It was a small plate with an assortment of foods on it. There were fruits and vegetables of all kinds on it, some cooked, some not. There were a couple different meats in radically different colors. A few sauces for dipping. The plate was generally disorganized.

It was curious to 625 how smelling all those different foods made his mouth flood with saliva. That effect filled him with a desire to stick those foods in his mouth, and he wasn't one to say no to desire. 625 extended his claw and stabbed a piece of meat, but there was still room. He stabbed a vegetable, then a fruit, and then dunked the concoction into one of the more brightly colored sauces. The flavors were intense. But there was something wrong. They didn't quite agree with each other. The blend of so many good flavors produced a hybrid flavor that wasn't so good. 625 grimaced and then swallowed. He should be more careful about what flavor combinations he would choose in the future, which was bound to occur in just a few seconds.

625 closed his eyes and smelled. There were so many different smells, fruity, citrus, spicy, meaty, and smoky. 625 decided that meaty, spicy, and smoky would probably go well together. He skewered a dark chocolate colored piece of meat, along with a flat, disc shaped green fruit, and with another hand, poured a solid black sauce over it. He shoved it into his mouth. Those flavors agreed with each other. 625 closed his eyes again and chewed contently, and kept chewing, until there was nothing more of the flavor or the texture, and then he swallowed. He wanted to try another combination. Fruity, citrus, and spicy sounded good. He was about to stab another thing on the plate when someone sat down next to him.

"First time eating hmm?"

625 turned around. Another experiment sat next to him giving his a rather odd look. It spoke in Tantalog, not a language he ever spoke before, but he knew it nonetheless.

The room was a rather large cafeteria with a buffet line at the end. A few experiments sat at several tables, mostly in groups of two or three. 625 had counted nine in all. He knew what they were from asking Jumba so many questions the previous night. They were Jumba's creations and former attempts at producing biological weapons. Everyone there lived in a massive laboratory complex funded by Galaxy Defense Industries, a large corporation owned by some sniffling narcissistic rodent like thing who never did anything except complain about everything. All the experiments were separated into small groups so no one knew more than a handful of others. Jumba said it was safer that way, though the exact details were still sketchy.

625 had taken a bold step to open the door to the cafeteria and have his very first meal. But striking a conversation with one of the other experiments was going a bit too far. He decided to wait and see if one of them would approach him, and this one did.

The experiment looked a lot like him, only it seemed to be missing parts. It only had one pair of arms, but its back was bare, devoid of defensive quills. It had antennae though, but boy were those things long. They had to stretch all the way down to its feet when it stood up. It was generally slimmer than him as well, and more rounded. The color was also different, a very, very light red.

There was something enticing about this experiment and how it looked at 625. It was something he couldn't put his finger on, something that made his heart beat a little faster. It was probably just anxiety for the first interaction outside of Jumba. It was nothing that attention should be paid to.

"Yeah… it is." 625 answered back in Tantalog.

"It might take some time to figure out what's good and what isn't." The experiment spoke again. Its voice was much lighter in tone than his, and something about its inflection gave 625 a slight tingling sensation in his lungs.

The light red experiment dropped its eyes from 625's face, looking down at his body for just a moment before bringing them back up. That move made the fur on the back of 625's neck stand on end. That feeling was more than just social anxiety. But it was best to ignore it until he found out from Jumba exactly what that was, lest he might do something uncalled for.

Food was at least something 625 was familiar with, so he decided to take up the light red experiment on its offer. 625 glanced down at the plate in front of the light green experiment. It was a world of tidiness compared to his. Several kinds of meat, grilled slices of fruit and vegetable, and two different types of sauce were placed in a perfect short column between two slices of crimson bread. It was a testament to precision.

"What's that?" 625 asked, motioning toward the stack.

"Oh this?" the red experiment answered, looking down at it. "It's just a sandwich it's nothing special."

625 looked at his own plate, seeing if he had the ingredients to recreate such a device himself. They were all there, meat, vegetable, fruit, sauce, and that same crimson bread to be placed outside. Now all that was left was a good flavor combination. That wasn't difficult, his nose guided hi the entire way.

It was done, 625's very own sandwich. It didn't look quite as orderly as the other, but it still seemed appetizing. 625 picked it up and took a bite. It was wonderful. Who knew that so many distinct flavors could be combined and still taste so good, and in such a convenient package no less!

The other experiment giggled. 625 didn't know why, but that made him feel good. But this perfect moment just had to be interrupted.

Over the speakerphone on the cafeteria came Jumba's voice.

"Experiment 625, please being reporting to my office at once for evaluations."

625 knew what that meant. It had been explained to him yesterday. Jumba was going to put 625 through a series of tests to determine if he could really do what he was built for.

625 grumbled, dropped the sandwich back on his plate, and walked out the door of the cafeteria. As he left, he could almost feel the strange light red experiment staring at him the entire way.

625 sat in a cushy chair, his favorite, built just the right size and shape for him. He was in a darkened room, though with his enhanced vision he could tell it was very large and had a very high ceiling. The floor was cushioned with a kind of hardened foam, possibly this room was meant to expend physical energy in, and the padding was to prevent injury. In front of him was a large oval monitor. It clicked and flicked on, spilling a light blue glow over his face.

The screen showed a random smattering of thin segments of lines all of equal length. Every segment was connected to at least one other segment somewhere in its body. The whole thing looked like garbled line static, with no rhyme or reason anywhere. If chaos could be displayed on a monitor, this would be it.

"First is to be testing mental acuity." Jumba's voice echoed through the chamber. "Despite appearances to contrary, pattern in front of you is being of highly organized pattern. Is being fractal pattern. However, is also being incorporating self with second, incompatible fractal, polluting overall design and making whole thing unintelligible, nonsensing mess."

Two more monitors dropped down from above and took their places on either side of the first, facing slightly inward toward 625. They both turned on. One was an incoherent mass of numbers and mathematical symbols, the other was a blank slate with control bars spanning the top and left side. A forth object rose from the floor. It was a control panel of some kind. Even though 625 had never seen it before, he was familiar with it. In fact he was already intimately familiar with the entire form of computer in front of him, just one part of the vast library of knowledge imbued into his head before his first waking moments.

"To right is being many pages long formula representing central pattern as whole. To left is being basic number processing program. Your task is for to decipher two original fractals based on right representation of resulting polluted pattern.
"You are having eighty seconds. Beginning."

625 looked at the mass of numbers to his right. He instantly saw how every number and symbol related to some line, connection, and position in the center screen. He could now have recreated the central pattern without having ever looked at it. But somewhere behind those numbers were two much simpler equations that, when put together and solved, would create mindless heap before him. He started to crunch mathematics in his brain. Some parts he expanded, some he simplified. He cut out whole section and deduced new ones that seemed as if they should be there. He rearranged the pieces until something distinct finally began to emerge. He tinkered some more in his head, and two definite sides of an equation started to appear. Soon, those two sides turned into two separate equations. That was it! They were there, all that was left now was to simplify them into their smallest possible forms, and that was a snap.

625 turned to the control panel and punched two rather small fractal equations into the screen on the left. He hit execute and the right and center screens cleared, replaced by two ever branching patterns, though 625 already knew exactly what they would be before they appeared. One was a simple tree like design, while the other was a golden spiral made from a helix shape.

"Eleven point seven two two seconds. Is being even faster than I!" Jumba's voice roared out through the room. "Now we are moving on to more polluted fractals. Each one will be being progressively harder than last. Each one will be giving of eighty seconds to solve, but accuracy is important, not speed. We will be seeing how difficult is for to making you take longer than allowed time period."

Another pattern emerged, even more convoluted than the last, and to the right another giant formula, making even less sense than the one before. 625 went to work. It took him a little over eighteen seconds to solve this one. The two fractals were both a bit more complex this time. The next one took twenty four seconds, and consisted had three fractals! It went on, until the eleventh pattern he wasn't able to solve in the eighty seconds allowed, though the one before it consisted of three different advanced neuropathic fractals, and one to predict the patterns of rock erosion by acid rain.

"Congratulations 625!" Jumba's voice bellowed. "You have exceeded my wildest expectations. You have been achieving in less than twenty minutes what would be taking me over five hours. In pure mathematical prowess, you are far surpassing even me."

625 was better at math than his very creator? He grinned as his body filled with a warm ambitious feeling. He searched his massive database of a head for what that feeling was called, and he found it. It was ego. Sure, there were many different types of intelligence other than mathematical, and such mathematical prowess still took creativity to apply it, but 625 felt that his ego was, at least for the moment, justified.

"Now for being physique testing."

This was when Jumba was going to test just how strong, agile, and tough he was. 625 was ready for anything Jumba could throw at him.

The monitors retracted into the ceiling, and the control panel retracted into the floor. The lights turned on revealing the huge room with its padded floor and metallic walls and ceiling. A small menagerie of wicked looking gadgets were sprawled about.

"Please be stepping on large metallic platform." Jumba's voice commanded.

As it said, there was a large metal platform on the floor, with another above it connected to the ceiling by many thick bars. 625 hopped out of his seat and walked over onto the platform.

"You are standing inside of hydraulic press." Jumba's voice said. "It will crush down on you with ten times your weight, and pressure will gradually increase. Be holding it up as long as possible, when knees finally give way, pressure will be reversing, sucking press back into ceiling."

He was ready. He lifted all four of his arms into the air, palms up, and the press came down on him. Holding it up was a snap. He could feel it getting heavier by the moment, but so far, he did not exude any effort it holding it up.

"Now reaching one hundred times weight."

625 now needed to exert some energy to keep up this pressure. But something else caught his attention. A figure loomed in the distant shadows. It stared at him with eyes glazed over in want and a smiling mouth parted in the center. It was the light red experiment from before. 625 wondered why it would be staring at him like that, but whatever reason, the attention gave him the uncomfortable sensation of being without gravity. Surely if it knew he could see it, than would leave. Maybe it didn't know just how sensitive his eyes really were. 625 would not lead on that he knew someone was there, for however physically uncomfortable the feeling he got from this experiment was, he found it somewhat enjoyable. He pushed up against the hydraulic press.

"Now reaching five hundred times weight."

625 had to put noticeable effort into what he was doing now. He clenched his jaw and bent his knees slightly to give himself a better hold.

"Now reaching one thousand times weight."

Now it was starting to hurt. He noticed his palms moistening and his arms beginning to shiver. His arms started to sting. 625 noticed the weight he held up wasn't even on all paws. A quick adjustment and they felt a little better. His legs were starting to shiver.

"Two thousand times weight."

He was definitely feeling it now. His arms and legs were burning and shaking. His heart was pounding. Tears streamed down his eyes from the pain. But he had to persist. He had to show Jumba just how extraordinary of a creation he was. And for some strange reason he couldn't fathom, he felt he also had to show that to his visitor.

"Three thousand times weight."

His hands and feet were totally numb. His arms, legs and chest were on fire. He wailed out in pain, and then, his strength met its mach. His knees collapse from under him and he fell down, curled into a ball and shivering. The hydraulic press retracted back into the roof.

"Final result, three thousand and four point two one six times weight supported." Jumba's voice rang through the room. "Is over double of what I have been anticipating. You are truly exceeding all expectations 625."

The pain went away faster than 625 thought it was possible. It must've been another of his extraordinary abilities. 625 stood up as soon as the pain became manageable, and once he regained his balance it was gone entirely.

"Moving in front of large cannon."

625 eye the room. The experiment from before still gave him that tantalizing stare. He found the cannon attached to a swing arm hanging down from the ceiling. It didn't look like much. It was a yellow cylinder with a concave end leading to a hole in the center.

"This cannon is firing oversized bolts of relatively cool plasma." Jumba said. "Your task is for to catch one bolt and be holding it in hands for until pain become unbearable."

625 put his arms out in front of him waiting for the blast to come with a smirk. The cannon charged, and a glob of glowing dark brown gel flew from the central hole of the cannon. 625 caught it with ease. It burned immediately, but the pain was manageable. For many minutes he stood there holding the dripping glob. It got more and more painful with each passing moment. 625 winced and writhed, and then something strange happened. It started to become less painful. After he could open his eyes again, he looked down to see the plasma had become a shade darker. He held it for so long it was loosing its heat.

"I think this test is over." 625 said.

"Explaining."

"The plasma's cooling down, at this rate I can keep holding it forever."

"Absolutely incredible." Jumba's voice whispered. "Alright, be discarding plasma."

625 tossed the glob behind him. It landed and poured out thick red smoke, triggering fans to suck it away from the room.

"Now be heading over to smaller array of cannons." Jumba's voice commanded.

625 looked around. His guest was still there, and still mesmerized. A little ways away was an array of three much smaller guns, also hanging from the ceiling by swing arms. 625 stepped in the middle of the guns ready for anything they could dish out, but a small face mask with no eyeholes touching his foot caught his attention.

"Smaller cannons will be firing harmless ball bearing, harmless to you that is. You are to be dodging them for as long as possible. But being warn-ed, rate of fire will increase with time. Also, you cannot b relying on sight for this test. Please be putting on mask. Remember, you are to be dodging, not blocking"

625 reached down and slipped the mask over his face. Its smell was that of gold and copper so even if he changed his sight method he still couldn't see through it.

The first ball bearing was fired. The sound gave away a perfect trajectory, as did the shift of air against his fur. A quick side step and the ball went past him. Another one fired from a different angle, and was just as easy to dodge. Two more shot in rapid succession. A single twist was able to dodge them both. This time three, which required a little bit of twisting on 625's part. Two at once, both could just be ducked. The firing got more intense, but the level of difficulty in dodging the ball bearings only became moderately more difficult as time passed. Eventually, all three cannons were firing automatically at him. He flew and spun through the air like a fly evading each and every one of them. Now it was becoming hard, keeping track of so many moving objects just by sound and feel, and making sure none of them touched you. 625 swung and swayed and whisked his body through the air, passing between each and every ball bearing that came his way. Soon enough it would become too much for him, and there would be nowhere else to turn. That moment came later than 625 had anticipated, but it came nonetheless. A ball bearing hit him in the side of the arm, knocking him off balance. He fell to the ground and was pelted by the entire barrage. Though against his robust body it all felt like little more than soft pats.

The guns stopped and 625 stood up. The entire room was littered with ball bearings.

"Amazing!" Jumba's voice sounded throughout the room. "Simply amazing! 625, you are beyond everything I had ever dreamed of!"

The tests were over. 625 took off his mask and glanced around. Jumba stood in the doorway, the familiar experiment, also knowing the tests were over it seemed, hopped into a nearby air vent and disappeared. Today was a very good day.

625 lay on a polymer table in a small office while Jumba busily typed the results of his tests and its implications into his laptop just above 625's head. He thought back throughout the day. He had learned all of the finder details of where he came from and why. He had learned just how vast his abilities truly spanned. He had learned of the pleasures of eating, and of a new way of arranging food that would quickly become his favorite. But the thing that he pondered the most was what he hadn't learned. Who was that mysterious light red experiment? Why did it seem so interested in him? And why did that interest seem so alluring?

"Hey Jumba?" 625 asked.

"Yes?" Jumba answered.

"There was this one experiment who really seemed to want to get to know me. He also snuck into the gym and watched me the entire time I was training."

Jumba stopped typing and blinked a few times before turning to 625.

"Be describing experiment." Jumba said.

"Well he's allot like me but only one pair of arms, no quills, really long antennae, and really light red. I mean so light that I think they should have a separate name just for that color."

Jumba chuckled under his breath. He knew exactly what was going on, and 625 didn't have a clue.

"They are having separate name for color." Jumba said. "Is pink."

"Pink." 625 whispered to himself. "I like it. It sounds classy."

"And experiment is being she not he."

"She?"

625 had no idea what that word meant.

"Is experiment 624," Jumba continued. "and is female."

Female... That wasn't a word 625 immediately recognized. Somewhere in that vast storehouse of injected knowledge he possessed surely there must be the word female in it somewhere.

He found it, female, and everything that meant and every related term and implication.

"Female." 625 whispered. "So that's a female."

No wonder her attention made him feel so exited.

"625 is insurance policy experiment." Jumba began to lecture. "In case any experiment were to becoming pacifistic, 624 can be turning them right back to their original purposes as biological weapons using acoustic hypnosis."

"In other words she sings to make you evil?" 625 asked.

"Exactly." Jumba answered. "And it is appearing that she is attempting for to fraternizing with you."

"Really…" 625 responded.

Those words right there made his day. If she wanted him, than getting her should be easy, but all that could be considered tomorrow. Right now it was late, and he was tired.

"I'm going to bed." 625 muttered as he rolled off the desk, quickly righting himself and walking out the door.

The door slid open to 625's little form. It was just a small rectangular space with a bed immediately on entrance. At the other side was a little desk with a laptop. Walking further along you'd find a sink and a mini fridge, a few cupboards, and a door leading to a little stall/shower combo. It was all designed small to accommodate 625 specifically. Though by chance it also accommodated another experiment earlier in the day.

625 looked to his bed to find a plate with a fresh new sandwich on it. He gazed over the sandwich and found a small piece of paper tossed on top of it, sprawled with Tantalog writing.

I see you like sandwiches.
I like sandwiches too.
Meet me tomorrow evening in the south storage room. We'll talk.
624

It seemed 624 was bold enough to make the first move. 625 didn't know if that was a good thing or not. On one hand, this meant he didn't have to make the first move. On he other, it meant that he'd have to make the second, which had to top the first in every conceivable way.

He picked up the sandwich and took a bite out of it. It was even better than the one he made that morning. Though that didn't surprise him. 624 probably had a lot more experience in sandwich making than he did, but that wouldn't last.

625 grabbed his laptop with one and smacked the plate off his bed with another. He hopped up onto his bed and set his laptop down on his stomach, at the same time just finishing off his new sandwich.

"Computer," 625 whispered. "display all known research files on sandwiches sequentially."

Documents began to scroll across the screen on the oval laptop. Recipes, historical manuscripts, important figures, variations through cultures, there were all kinds of documents. 625's eyes read them all instantly, at least compared to the speed they were being displayed at.

"Show them faster."

The documents started to scroll at double their previous speed. But it wasn't enough. He could still read them too quickly.

"Faster." He said.

"Faster." Again.

"Faster dammit!"

Each document flew across the screen now leaving only a fraction of a fraction of a second to absorb and consider them. It was finally a comfortable pace for 625's research.

After an hour or so of reading all about sandwiches at blinding speeds, it all became too much for 625 to handle, and he fell asleep with the laptop still flashing in front of him.

Today was indeed a good day. But tomorrow could only be better.