[ WP ] You have been chosen to ride the first ever manmade time machine . The trip was successful , except for one problem . Dogs have become the dominant species on Earth , replacing humans .

'Human, step forward.' 
 
 I nervously take a step, trying not to look at Mr. Prince's wagging tail. He seems quite sensitive about staring. We are standing in a long hall with high arches - much like an old fashioned royal court. Enormous dogs, many the height of a small human, line the sides of the hall in various phases of sitting, scratching and... cleaning. Mr. Prince sits on a large red pillow at the center of the aisle just beneath a large window. He looks to be the giant descendant of a Golden Retriever. 
 
'I, Mr. Prince the Second, Goodest of Boys, Keeper of the Smells, welcome you to our home, Sit. It has been many, many years since this world has seen a human.' 
 
 He pauses to scratch momentarily. I take the chance to ask a question. 
 
'How many years, exactly?' 
 
'Hmm?' he pauses mid-scratch, leg still raised above his head, and looks at me. 
 
'Since you've seen humans - or even, what year is it?' 
 
'Ah - you are a time traveler. That explains it. Well, in Dog-years, which are of course the current standard, it has been 20,000 years since the human extinction event, my dear Sit.' 
 
'And in human years?' I ask. What did he call me? 
 
 Mr. Prince, having apparently lost interest in scratching, looks over his shoulder towards a large German Shepherd wearing a white lab coat and spectacles. 
 
'Mr. Doctor?' 
 
 Mr. Doctor coughs nervously and shuffles his paws.'Ahem, yes, sire, I'm afraid we have n't quite figured out human years. The whole human-to-dog-years conversion does n't appear to have ever been based on anything... logical. We only have Dog-years, which - of course - are counted as one-seventh of an Earth orbit around the sun.' 
 
'Indeed, indeed.' confirms Mr. Prince'Well, I am sorry, Sit. It seems even our top scholars have n't cracked that one yet. Another seven years and we'll have it by Birthday - I guarantee you.' 
 
 I have so many questions I am not sure where to start. I take a breath, try not to stare at the German Shepherd adjusting his spectacles and ask: 
'Why do you keep calling me Sit? When is Birthday?' 
 
 Again, Mr. Prince looks - this time more pointedly - over his shoulder at Mr. Doctor, who repeats the nervous shuffle before speaking. 
 
'Stepping forward in time to such an advanced society can be quite overwhelimg, I am sure. I will do my best to answer your questions. Our archaeologists established that every human was named Sit, or it was some self proclaimed title. Admittedly, there was some debate over how this would work in any functioning society, but the transcripts of late-human speech are very compelling. The word'Sit' is just far too common to be anything but a name or title, and... quite frankly, no self-respecting Dog would ever have such a ludicrous one.' 
 
 Mr. Prince nods in solemn agreement at this. 
 
'Ok...' I'm beginning to wonder what they teach at the Dog Universities,'but, Birthday?' 
 
'Birthday is a celebration passed down from our ancestors which takes place only once every seven years. We're not entirely sure where this tradition came from, but we think it has something to do with the sun.' 
 
'Thank you, Mr. Doctor' says Mr. Prince,'I am sure our guest will have many more questions - but all in due time. Sit- excuse me, what is your name?' 
 
'Brent' 
 
'Interesting. Well, Brent, please walk with me. I have some questions for you that I would rather ask in private.' 
 
 Mr. Prince stands and walks out through a door to the rear of the royal pillow. I hesitate for just a moment, conscious of the number of other dogs watching. We walk slowly down a corridor lined with small windows. Through them I can just make out a green cityscape - it appears to be mostly parks- dotted with blue rivers and lakes. We reach a large window and Mr. Prince stops, at first staring out the wndow, then letting his head drop. He speaks in a low tone. 
 
'All you see is under my command. I make sure there is enough space for everyone to walk and do their business. I chase the birds away when they threaten our territory. I fetch the inanimate objects when they fly past me at great speed. This is why I have the titles, the position I have. I was born into it. But... sometimes I wonder... is it real? Do I deserve this? Am I really `` the goodest boy''? What about the others? We fear the answers to these questions may have been lost with the humans - so I implore you, Brent, speak.' 
 
 I pause, finally understanding why - through some cosmic coincidence - this is where I landed. I gently reach out my hand and place it on Mr. Prince's shoulder, staring out the window with him at the busy town below. 
 
'Mr. Prince, if there's one lesson I learned in my time - it's that they're all good Dogs. All of them.' 

