FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The car that arrived was swish, and couldn't have looked more out of place in the shabby neighbourhood of Lower Hampstead if it tried. It was all smooth polymers, clean glass and gravitic manipulators that allow it to hover along the ground. It was also driverless, which was a bit unnerving, but Cinnamon had clambered aboard regardless and curled up on a seat designed for a creature far larger than himself.

Now it was flying amongst the glittering expanse of Upper Hampstead's sky towers, heading towards the sky-lane junction to inner London. The car skipped higher, streamed through a bank of clouds, and burst through into the sundrenched magnificence that was the heart of the Kingdom of Albia. Cloud-High Fitzrovia, Pinnacle Marylebone, The Mayfair Spires, Bloomsbury Heights. The mega towers were glittering and fantastic though the most impressive was Westminster High, an island of ancient earth buildings now floating in the sky! Beyond Westminster drifting serenely in a patch of clear sky, was Albia's Heart - the Palace of His Majesty. Cinnamon pressed himself against the windows and stared at the wonders of upper London. He had always dreamt about it. He'd stood in Regent's Park and Hyde Park before now, and looked up in wonder, but never had he thought that he would ever fly above it!

The car merged seamlessly into a line of traffic passing around an exclusion zone encompassing Westminster High. As it made its way around the zone, it rose higher towards the black and chrome edifice of Pimlico Eternity. It was the oldest, as well as one of the highest, of all of the towers. Its height made possible by the technological advances afforded to the earth with the dawning of interstellar contact. It was four miles wide at the base and rose over a mile into the sky. The upper half bloomed into six distinct towers of black glass and chrome, of which the central tower was his destination. Slipping inside a large hangar, the car settled to the ground and the door slid silently open allowing Cinnamon to clamber out carefully.

There were other cars parked in rows to either side, but his attention was drawn toward the strange creature waiting for him. They looked like a fox, but their body was quite clearly not organic. From its outwards appearance, it looked to be some sort of smooth rubber-like metal. It flowed and stretched like skin as they walked forwards, yet glistened like tempered steel. Set where their collar bone should have joined was a dark blue crystal that glowed gently, that matched the colour of their artificial eyes. Though their face was clearly inorganic, it moved into a welcoming smile as easily as his own would. They wore no clothing but then there was nothing to hide. Their smooth, metallic, rubber body was beautifully made and silent except for the gentle tap of their feet on the floor. Their stomach was smooth, black, flexible rubber. A similar black rubber made up the mobile joints of their body. The thicker, metallic-looking rubberised plates across their chest, arms, back and legs were a deep shade of navy. Their tail was long, thick and probably had a thousand functions, none of which Cinnamon could guess just by looking. The creature's muzzle was all one piece of smooth, moulded vulcanized metallic rubber. He was smooth, sleek, shiny, and bright eyed and his ears were capped closed as part of some sort of communication system. He was both very familiar looking and so outlandishly strange at the same time.

"Welcome Cinnamon, it is lovely to meet you. I am Rolls; one of the Orientation Officers here at Vulcan Headquarters. Come on inside and we can talk about your situation."

Cinnamon squeaked, peering up at the tall fox with his mismatched green and amber eyes and nodded, "I-I only said I would come to listen to your offer, nothing more."

"Of course. Come inside, my office isn't far," the rubbery robot turned smoothly and strolled into the building and Cinnamon followed obediently. It was always hard to say no to big folk. They were so tall, he felt like he had to do what they told him. The fox took him up an elevator to another floor, down a short corridor, and into a room that was really nice. The curved windows looked out over Upper-London and Rolls encouraged Cinnamon to take a seat in one of the comfortable armchairs. He served thick hot chocolate, and a plate of crackers. Cinnamon started to relax a bit as he held the big cup in his tiny paws and watched the smooth robot fox pick up a tablet.

"Can I...can I see Nutmeg, whilst I'm here?" Cinnamon asked shyly, "I've not seen him in a couple of months. I miss him lots..."

"I am not surprised you are missing him, you were raised together," Rolls murmured as he looked up from the data on his pad. "We had actually removed you from our active recruitment list after you said no last time, but he has been very worried about you."

Looking down into his drink Cinnamon squirmed, "I'm OK. I get by... I have a job and everything."

"Yet only last month, you needed to borrow six hundred pounds off of your brother," Rolls said setting the pad aside, "Your job keeps letting you go earlier, we've noticed, and you have bills stacking up with no money to pay them. It won't be long before you have more debts than you can possibly pay off."

Cinnamon's head came up and he stared at the fox, buck teeth showing, "You've been watching me?!" he squeaked, "That's not right! I thought you were good people!"

"We are, Cinnamon. We only looked into your affairs because your brother asked us too. He is very worried about you. You will listen to our offer, won't you?"

Cinnamon squirmed and leant back against his chair, nodding his head, "Yes... yes sir I will listen, just I dun' wanna be a rubber robot forever, they said this change is irreversible."

"Indeed it is. But we will come to that in a bit, we have had a long think about your situation. As a result, the Administrator has authorised me to make you a new offer," he smiled warmly at the surmelle, his eyes gleaming gently, "So shall I outline the offer?"

"Ok," Cinnamon whispered, already feeling really worried about this. Despite his reluctance, he had agreed to listen to their proposal, and he did miss Nutmeg so very much. "Would I get to work with Nutmeg?" he asked the fox.

"Indeed, you would be assigned to our security sector alongside Nutmeg, as part of our detection and scanner division. Now then - Vulcan Automata's standard employment contract guarantees you a job with us in perpetuity. The costs associated with vulcanizing your body are attached to your employment indenture."

The surmelle sat up, "What does that mean?"

Rolls smiled, "It costs us a lot of money to transform you for work, you will be indentured to us until the cost of this is paid off. In essence, Vulcan Automata owns your body. 45% of your salary each month goes toward paying off these costs, though you can increase or decrease this amount to suit." he held up a hand to forestall questions, "We are also willing to offer to clear all your current debts. Everything outstanding. Give you a 'clean slate', so to speak. This loan would be credited to your indenture contract, of course."

Cinnamon nodded his head, "That's a lot of money, a couple of thousand at least! You... you really want me to work for you that much?"

"Yes. The unique skills inherent in your genetic code are currently outside our ability to recreate. We have been able to enhance your brothers senses by a significant degree. He is now a unique and irreplaceable part of our security and administration team," Rolls turned the pad around so the Surmelle could see it, "Your salary we think is quite good for a new employee and you can see the full cost of cyberization here along with other costs."

Cinnamon stared at all the numbers, frowning a bit, numbers were not the easiest things to do in his head, "So at... 45% it'll take me fifteen years to pay off my body?"

"Yes, but it is a very specialised body. Designed with a lot of custom specialisation planned, with 15% of that payback fee going toward paying off your 'Bio-Modification' package. You are worried about being a vulcanized automata forever, you won't have to worry. Our bio-mod system is a body that can mimic a flesh and blood creature. You'd be hard pressed to tell the difference. They are incredibly expensive, normally we'd never offer one to a new employee on an indenture contract but the Administrator really wants you on staff."

Squirming in his chair, Cinnamon took a long sip of his chocolate then paused to groom the sticky sweet off his thick whiskers. "And you guarantee you aren't allowed to mess with my mind?" he said, cautiously.

"It's all here in the contract. Will and thought inhibitors are only ever used on violent employees. Even then we do not mess with your minds or have direct write access to your memories." The robo-rubber fox smiled, "They are merely suppressed. It is like going to sleep and even then it is used only in very extreme cases, which have to be independently verified by the office of the Chief Justice."

Cinnamon picked up a ginger biscuit and nibbled on it nervously, buck teeth gnawing through the hard confection as he looked at the sheet of numbers again. He peered up at the fox who simply smiled at him, not wishing to push the matter any further. The surmelle took another sip of his drink and squirmed in his seat. He pulled the pad over to him and peeked at the information on display.

"Cinnamon - Free Citizen - Kingdom of Albia"

"Position Offered: Security Sensor and Monitor Unit"

"Basic Salary: £35,000 per annum"

"Cyberisation Fee - £75,000" "Specialisation Fee - £150,000"

"Biological Mimic Unit: Species Surmelle - £230,000"

"Debt-Clearance- £4560"

"Payment Plan: Bio-Mimic Unit payback - 45% of monthly salary"

"Indenture Contract: 15 years"

"Contract & Payment Plan - Negotiable by Employee"

"Can I... uhm. I mean, well... ah"." he paused, taking a deep breath and sighing, looking down at the floor with the pad to one side. Glancing at the numbers, then back at his organic body stretching out beneath him, he closed his eyes and sighed again. He looked back up at the fox, calmer than he was moments before. "OK, I'll do it. Please. I don't want to live in squalor any more, and I want to be with Nutmeg."

"Good choice Cinnamon. Vulcana Automata will look after you, I promise. Now then," he stood up and held out a rubber-clad hand, "Shall we go look over the contracts? Then I'll take you down to basic induction."

Rolls' hand was surprisingly smooth and warm as Cinnamon held it, letting the big fox lead the way. He felt very dwarfed by the big robot , yet surprisingly safe. Perhaps he should have done this years ago, and joined Nutmeg after they got set free from the lab.

-0-

The trip from Woolwich Crown Court took an hour. It was a miserable hour of being jostled back and forth with nothing to hold onto. Whistler had spent the journey bracing himself in a corner of the prison van, though every time it juddered to a halt he almost went flying. Stop, start, stop, start - traffic in Under-London was awful. Worse still, every now and then the van would stop and someone else would be loaded inside. There was a red fox (who sneered at the otter and sat as far away from his as possible), a filthy bedraggled rat with buck teeth and a tatty old suit, and a pair of young weasels in scruffy hoodies and gang markings. A huge husky was let in at one stop, alongside a horse in a rather impeccable business suit.

The horse looked even more out of place than Whistler felt. Eventually though the doors at the back of the van were opened, and the same bailiffs who had escorted him out of the courtroom were stood there in the doorway. Several armed court guards were there as well, ushering the otter out of van along with the others. They were polite but firm, and practically marched the group across the underground car park to a small door that had no visible means of entry.

One of the bailiffs picked up a handset and held a muffled conversation, the result of which causing the door to hiss open. Whistler and the other felons were escorted into a wide lift car that rose several storeys, opening out into a plain windowless grey room. There was a line of four short pedestals, each prisoner was escorted to one of them and Whistler was one of the first brought forward. One of the bailiffs inserted a data-cube into the pedestal before the otter and the wall in front lit up with an image of Whistler and a soft female voice instructed him to place his webbed hand on a scanner embedded into the top of the pedestal. He did so, reluctantly, squeaking in shock as it made his body tingle and his fur stand on-end as his biolectric pattern was registered. The biographical detail on the wall flickered and updated itself and Whistler scowled at the new read-out.

"Whistler Uxibarae - Felon Property - Kingdom of Albia"

"Sentenced to Labour Indenture - 35 years"

30 years for Illegal Possession and Intent to sell nano-narcotics

5 years for contempt of court

Appeal - No Appeal Granted

"Basic Salary: £0"

"Cyberization Fee - £75,000 - Waived as per Indentured Workers Contract with Kingdom of Albia Justice Department"

"Specialisation Fee - £20,000 - Cost met by Felon - 3 years added to indentured contract"

"Total Indentured Servitude: 38 years"

"Contract - Non-Negotiable by Employee"

"Bioelectrical Field Pattern Registered"

"New Identity: WU-456-987 - Proceed to Basic Induction."

The image blinked out and the wall slid open revealing a short, very narrow corridor. Whistler looked behind him at the bailiffs and the lift leading out, but one of them firmly shoved him forward. He stumbled into the corridor, turning around as the walls slid closed.

"This isn't right, I don't agree to thi-"

His words were cut off as the wall snapped closed and he thumped his hand against the wall and stared up, looking for cameras or other devices, "You have to let me go! I'm innocent! You can't do this to me!"

"WU-456-987, please proceed along the corridor to the elevator car, failure to do so will be recorded on your record as insubordination."

"Is that all I am now - a number?! I thought you guys were all compassionate and noble about not forcibly converting people."

"Certainly not, your name is Whistler Uxibarae, and you have been volunteered for conversion by the legal owners of your independence. You are now the property of Vulcan Automata until such time as you have worked off your sentence to the public. For ease of processing and identification, all Indentured Workers are given a unique identifier. Now, WU-456-987, please proceed to the elevator car. Immediately."

Grumbling under his breath Whistler marched down the corridor, and got into the waiting lift. The doors swished closed, and the whole thing started to ascend. He was terribly afraid this was going to happen. No last minute stay of proceedings or rescue by his father was going to happen, he was off to be turned into a robot. Whether legal or not, very much against his will.

End Part 2: