Chapter Text
On Earth, the leading universities could be split in two between city universities, spread out across a medium-sized historic city or a section of a major metropolitan area, and campus universities, situated on a large expanse of land owned and usually solely used by the university. The University of New New York tries to have the best of both. Despite its name, it is practically a city in its own right, with large semi-managed open expanses and a dedicated light-rail transport network. In its most urban sections, narrow winding streets are shaded by six-storey stone buildings draped with vining plants. The university has a million students from a thousand planets, and its economy supports another two million residents. There is no typical person on these streets. Mammalian, reptilian, avian, piscine, creatures beyond any Earthly classification of biology, organic, mechanical, and everything in between – the university welcomes them all.
Bill Potts was walking down one of these streets when she heard someone call her name. She turned and almost collided with an elephantine man with two dextrous trunks who was engrossed in conversation with a tiny ostrich-like creature perched on one of his tusks. Bill deftly sidestepped him, but collided with a group of bipedal bats waddling in the opposite direction, sending two of them, and herself, skittling to the floor.
“Sorry, sorry,” said Bill, as the bats flapped their vestigial wings in instinctive panic. Their friends helped them back to their feet. Bill scrambled upright, and a man grabbed her elbow. An actual human man. His skin was a slightly darker shade of brown than Bill’s. He wore a bright floral jacket over a white robe which Bill recognised as… Arabic? Except his head wasn’t covered. Maybe more African, then? And his face…
“Has anyone ever told you that you look a lot like the guy from Twelve Years a Slave?” Bill asked him.
He laughed. “Chiwetel Ejiofor,” he said. “Yes, I get that a lot. It’s quite uncanny really. Although when we first met, you would always tell me how much I looked like Malcolm Tucker.”
Bill blinked. “Doctor?”
“Hello, Bill. History is under attack. I need your help.”