FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The arms were running on artificial neural networks that had been trained in simulation to perform the operations within given parameters. Just a year or two ago we would have had to use live pilots manipulating and controlling each arm in real-time. Had this been a year or two ago, such an operation like this wouldn't work. Surgeons, for all the talent that they hold, are still solaerens. We can do amazing, impossible things, but we have reaction times, a lack of precision in movements, and take far too long.

The two laser scalpel arms powered up and began cutting into his flesh at his shoulder joints. He couldn't move due to the restraints, but he started an ear-piercing scream through his muzzle. A biological car alarm. The sound wasn't as bad as it could have been, at least for those inside the observation room thanks to a program adapting to the sharp uptick in volume. Still was pretty bad. Bernard told the room to mute the sound coming from the operation.

Now the scene that the screens were displaying was just odd. He was writing in pain with his eyes as wide as possible but perfectly silent. The lasers continued to progress until they exited from the underside of his shoulder. Another pair of robotic arms grabbed the lifeless appendages, swung around the circular track, and deposited them in a biological disposal bin with more care than was being afforded to their owner.

The engineer manning part of the controls asked for my confirmation to continue. I chose to keep my eyes on the pup, the fur around his eyes matted down by an ocean of tears. He typed in the command for the arms to move into the next procedure when I told him to continue with the procedure.

It would take significantly more time for the cybernetics to be integrated than it took for the arms to be excised. At the very least, we didn't have to worry about blood loss. The heat generated from the laser scalpels cauterized the cut. I had Vasili glued to his console, scouring for any signs of shock in the pup. His heart rate was the highest we've seen it, sustaining its rate throughout the hour that the procedure had been underway. It was within survivable limits, however, and shouldn't create any lasting damage.

Brain activity was similarly heightened. As neuro had predicted, his brain had adapted to his pain sensors acting on overdrive for the extended period of time. His added sensitivity acted as a counter to this, however, forcing his tolerance to continue increasing. That and he seemed to be focusing his thoughts in a more controlled manner. The incessant whines, muffled howls, and crying more than demonstrated his sustained agony, though, so I doubted it was doing him much good. Just isolating the internal suffering. Reinforcing and highlighting it in the absence of everything else. The absence of any upside.

The manipulators then ejected their outermost, plastic layer for the part that grabbed the static arms, moved along the circular track, and grabbed the two prototype arms that would be fitted into the sockets. Shaped similarly to that of a solaeren's arm, the "skin" was replaced with curved, glossy, and hard polycarbonate plates. All white with some minor gold highlights to indicate electrical access.

The coupling, the joint between flesh and cybernetic at the end of the arms was angled into the shoulder. It was printed before the operation to fit the exact dimensions of the cut made by the lasers. The internal side of the coupling was lined with needle-like points of varying lengths, the longest of which extended ten centimeters. The dense forest of spears were to be the connecting points for the subject's neurons.

The arms slowly pushed the couplings into the cauterized flesh, driving the needles further and further into his body. An adhesive lining the coupling will keep it permanently connected to the subject's body, but we continued down the procedure list and sent the command to grab the rivets and screws to be sure.

A combination of the two was used to cover for additional fail points, Naturally, they were carbon based. The subject did not seem to like those being shot or drilled into his skin and muscles. His heart skipped for just a second. Of course, his sustained efforts to scream out were being hampered.

My right thigh vibrated, so I checked my phone.

Aubrey Delacroix: Pascal, can I just have two seconds of your time. I'm really sorry. Please. I'm just outside of the observation room.

The motherfucker was interrupting me at a time like this. He actually brought me out of the haze I had drifted into. Something I was only partially cognizant of. I told Bernard to take over for five minutes.

The door slid shut behind, dropping me back into those labyrinthian corridors of bone white. Delacroix was standing off to the right, fidgeting with his paws. That was when things returned back to a normal speed, though the jolt from shifting between first to sixth gear was jarring.

"Pascal. Shit, look...you guys have started it, haven't you?"

"What do you want, Aubrey? You cannot pull me out of that room whenever you need a problem fixed. That better not have been the one question you needed me to answer."

"Nevermind that. You know his body doesn't respond to anesthetic. How in the world are you going about this?"

"Normally," I said. "Just no anesthetic."

He brought his paws to his face. "Fucking hell, you knew they would do that," he mumbled to himself. "This...this is fucked up, Pascal," he said as he braced his back against the wall. "We shouldn't be doing this to him. Least of all the two of us."

"And just what the fuck are you implying?"

"Out of anyone here, you and I know him best. Spent the most time with him. Don't deny that you see him differently than the rest."

"I would begin to be very careful of what you say if I were--"

"I'm going to be out of a job after this. I know that much. I mean, I doubt I will be able to tutor him after this, let alone that being a continued priority."

"Yeah," I said.

He glanced at either end of the hallway for some apparent reason. Probably just to keep himself going. "How long is the...operation going to continue?"

"Well, if you hadn't pulled me out to feel guilty and ask me to pity you, then I would have been in there for a day and half straight."

"Damn...you don't think he will, you know, go into shock? I can't imagine..."

"His heart and organs can take it."

"Mmhmm. It's funny. We are trying to push the boundaries of the solaeren body, yet we need someone--something inhuman to accomplish it. Transhumanist cry out everywhere in anguish."

"Are we done here, Aubrey?"

"Yeah...yeah, I--I'm done. Should I just leave my letter of resignation on your desk, or...?"

"Just email it to Bernard and myself. You're lucky. You get to leave without us charging you."

"I shouldn't have to be lucky to get out with my freedom intact."

"Goodbye, Aubrey." He got the message and shut his mouth.

Once he disappeared behind a corner, I propped myself up against the wall that he was just leaning on. This is so fucked up.

The haze washed over me once more when I went back into the observation room. He was still having his cauterized shoulder indents prodded by the needles. Part of me was actually concerned that he continued to struggle and lash out, knowing that his attempts were in vain. Well over an hour into the whole ordeal and either too naïve or too broken to realize the situation at hand. The former meant we failed along the way, the latter meant he was going to be of little use to us, let alone even survive the whole thing.

It took some time for the needles to get settled in and find their marks. Slowly they punctured the charred tissue and drove deep into muscles, skin, and bone. We could see the neuron connections coming online one by one until it would feel like a natural extension of his body, once we turn it on that is. Several pairings of organic rivets and screws ensured the snug fit remained that way with a resurgence of tears accompanying them.

Procedure dictated that the arms be powered on only after the processor was operating nominally. Not like there was any precedent for these kind of cybernetics outside of Aelmerian military trials and Caskyan disability research, and even those lagged behind the toys we were working with here. More prosthetic than cybernetic.

The legs came next. The lasers cut them off further down than the arms, about down up his thighs, leaving behind actual stumps compared to the obliterated shoulder joint. The legs were similarly deposited in a biohazard box.

Each stage of the operation takes longer than the previous one. This was stage two, arms were one. Those were easy as it was a simple connection. The legs...removing the thigh would cause too much damage. It's a lot easier and more efficient to just replace the femur. Not that it would be as easy to excise as the arms and legs, but it could be done.

An incision was made lengthwise down the thighs with the remaining bone being removed along with some of the surrounding muscle. More to be set aside in biohazard containers.

The leg prototypes were positioned into the empty space in the thigh. Screws and rivets were impaled into the coxal bone, and once the top part of the cybernetic prosthetic was fully inserted, more spears were extended radially into the flesh. More connections to his nervous system. A large plate was added onto the front of the the thigh as well, covering up the connections and stretching up towards the waist.

I only afforded myself to check the clock after that part of the procedure was completed. Three additional hour elapsed. I had been so preoccupied watching the cybernetic limbs being attached that I had not looked at Casey's face during the whole thing.

He looked pretty broken for lack of a better word. Now just a head and torso, and there was still more to dismember.

I gave the order to continue onto the eyes. The surgical arms swapped to thin, snake-like tools. The overhead camera focused in on his face, namely zooming in on his left and right eye. His pupils became pinheads, shaking back and forth, quivering. The eyelids slammed shut, but the robotic snakes peeled them back. I decided for us to use local anesthetic. It would last for only a couple of seconds once it kicked in, but it would give us some time.

More snakes slid into his skull, gliding around his eyes and matching their curvature. Once they met the optic nerves, we turned their lazer tips on--

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"

"Shit shit shit shit shit," Bernard started barking, raising his volume with each successive use of the word. Looking back at Casey, his muzzle broke free of the carbon fiber restraints we encased it in. "I thought we turned off the microphones. And somebody get that fucking muzzle secure! Merde!"

Casey's howling continued, sobbing loudly.

Lieutenant Aldus Maxon, third infantry regiment, killed in action. Shot in the head during a SRG counterterror op, the hollow point bullet pierced his right eye. The bullet fragmented and broke apart within his head, sending titanium shards throughout his skull. Myself and Captain Jamie Baelstron carried him back to the medevac helicopter. His body was limp, but he refused to let up an amalgam of balling his eyes out and blasphemous screaming. The difference being that his pitch slowly faded, and by the time we loaded him into the cabin, his howls had lessened into blood-filled gurgling until falling silent in Baelstron's arms. His crimson blood stained my armor for the next couple of days. Baelstron had to go into counseling as her CO feared PTSD, but she was eventually cleared. Avoided me like the plague after the incident for a while, though.

I had tried to block memories like those for so many months. This, what we were doing, finally pulled the trigger and let them cascade forth.

This...how can I be doing this? It's wrong, and yet none of them care. So cold and detached and easily able to rationalize this in the name of profit. And Caskyans wonder why we hate them.

"NO, NO, NONONONO PLEASE! PLEA--" Casey screamed, somehow still cognizant. Likely blind now, though. One of the technicians jammed his paws onto his maw, slamming it shut. He fought hard enough that three others had to lend their own paws to keep him from shattering the glass anymore than he already had.

"Seal it shut guys!" Bernard shouted over the microphone at the five technicians bolting Casey's mouth shut. "Damn it," he cursed at me. "We need to get back on track." He turned again to the microphone, "Hurry back on up!"

"Bernard--" I almost didn't catch myself before he cut me off.

"I'm handling it, Pascal, don't worry."

"I...I know. Let's just...we just need to continue on. The night's only going to get longer." He nodded back.

The atmosphere in the room was a bit tenser until the nerve endings were fully severed along with the surrounding tissue anchoring the eyes in their respective sockets. Watching them being removed only to leave behind burt scar tissue encasing the sides of two holes in the boy's face...threw up a little in my mouth just seeing it on the monitor. Peter Montpellier's mouth slipped a couple of words out of disgust, but everyone else including myself was trying their damnedest to appear resolute and firm. My eyes--everyone's eyes in the room--were probably just as lifeless as Casey's, staring off into nothingness before being sealed in gel-filled containers.

Five hours from when the optic nerves were cut until the new cybernetic eyes were properly attached and connected to the brain. We kept them powered off and him in the dark. Kazemir and Vladimir fist bumped when we got the notice that everything was properly reattached. They even decided to turn the irises gold. Casey's hair, fur, arms, legs, and now even his eyes; all gilded for man's avarice. He became branded as their property.

The last twenty hours were the hardest on me. They were slow, dragging on and blurring together. I downed several espressos to stay alert, though they were hardly necessary for me to remain awake. No, it wasn't hard because I was growing drowsier. My mind wandered. Flashbacks, recollections, revisitations of past trauma...it was too easy to let go. I needed to stay focused; I needed to glue my eyes to the screen and see what we were doing.

One minute, forty-seven seconds. That's how long he was dead. One-point-seven-eight seconds between the removal of his brain stem and cerebellum and the attachment of the processor. It automatically detected his brain activity was gone and jump started it by itself. It recognized that his heart was silent and jolted it awake. Cheers of joy went around when the EKG came back on. One could have guessed that the Mahraqet Crisis had ended, that Taliya had taken her first steps on the moon, or that the SRG had finally been crushed--even as grand of a dream as that may be.

For the first hour after the processor was attached, brain activity was purely limited to base organ function. Blood continued to flow throughout the body, keeping tissue alive, though high-level cognition still had not yet been reinitiated. Ferrofluid was injected into the brain, solidifying via targeted radiation before we had created an intricate web of super- and semiconductors tying neurons and regions of the brain together, all coalescing in the processor.

It was astounding, magical, and nightmarish. We had increased the possible neural pathways thirty-five fold. First try, and we just created a computer more powerful than anything that would be created over the next two decades.

Then we brought Casey--the person underneath it all--back. High-level cognition returned. Then Sandrine's algorithm went to work. Muscles tensed and convulsed, his heart rate jumped up and down sporadically, neurons firing randomly within the brain and all over the body. It was chaos at first and remained like that for hours, but slowly, the neural chip began to take it all in, processing it at an exponentially faster rate with each passing second. It didn't try to test where everything went. It couldn't. The machine couldn't possibly understand the difference between a memory of reading one book or another, understand the difference between saying apple and xenophile, understand the difference was between jumping a bit and jumping a tad, but it didn't need to. It leveraged his brain, his thoughts, his memories, and it used them to train itself. In a month we might be able to recreate memories in video format, in a year we could forcibly evolve his body in real time, but right now, we had total and absolute control over him.

This just pushed up my time table. One week to enact phase Scorched Earth. Everything needs to be destroyed.

"I just want to say that I am really proud of you guys. All of you." Everyone was gathered for the first project meeting since the procedure. "It would be quite foolish of me to deny how lucrative this project has turned out for many of you, but what we have done here will outlive all of us. We have cemented our legacy amongst those who have shaped our modern understanding of science. Nobody shall know our names or who we are, but I want all of you to take pride in what we have created. To lighting the path towards enlightenment!"

"To lighting the path towards enlightenment!" They all cheered their champagne glasses. I wanted to close the speech with something impactful. Unfortunately, this wasn't, and I threw up in my mouth when I said it, but it never hurts to quote scripture. Do as they do in their homeland...

"Pascal," Bernard whispered to me from my right.

"Mmhmm?"

He knocked his champagne against my glass of water. "We did good."

"We have," I lied as I feigned an ecstatic smile. It's been eight days since that fateful event concluded. Canapés and hors d'oeuvres and champagne, they were all for successfully sending a command to his processor. One that made him instantly docile and placid in order to have his first tête-à-tête since the ordeal. He didn't even react or flinch when I came into his vision. He simply stood there meekly, eyes staring off into nothingness, and here we were, toasting to it with our multi-million solar bonuses.

"Seriously, Pascal, have a sip!" He extended his left paw and a second glass in it. "Celebrate. We just did what nobody had thought about doing for the next couple of decades! One sip for each of those bastards that we just proved wrong."

"I'm good. Honestly. Water for me."

"You know, one of these days I am going to share the experience with you."

"I just like to regulate what I put into my body, and for the foreseeable future, alcohol is to remain blacklisted."

"You know, Ariane was watching Veritas earlier this week, and they were reporting how drinking alcohol has been proven to improve your health."

"And do you believe that assessment?"

He laughed. "Fuck no! Those anchors and producers couldn't tell the difference between a prokaryote vs eukaryote, but a little debauchery and party isn't going to kill me now, and if it does, we can just bring me back to life! My heavens, we fucking did it!"

I did my most convincing and genuine-like laughter. "That we have." I brought him into a one-armed hug and lifted his phone from his front pocket. It's been so long since I've done that, I forgot how great it felt to do it without raising suspicion. "I have to check on something, but why don't you turn on some music for all everyone. Let them celebrate."

He obliged quickly, and the cacophony of electric jazz over the facility's sound system was not my favorite thing to work alongside, but it would make my job a hell of a lot easier.

I navigated the labyrinth of corridors, working my way towards the security office. Everyone was at the "party," so I didn't have to worry about any stragglers disrupting me, but I still tried to act inconspicuous and nonchalant. Reaching into my breast pocket, I pulled out a silicone mold of Bernard's finger and placed it overtop my own print. Simply touching the screen with the fingerprint unlocked the phone, though admittedly I knew all of his passwords. It was almost a joke how easy it was to get into it; just another reason why Aelmerian tech was better, at least from a security aspect.

Mail app, spam folder, and then the email I sent to his account via thousands of proxy relays. Our admin status bypassed the firewall, and within a minute every device on the facility's network had been infected by my worm. It would have been easier to just do it from my own device, but I needed to make my case like teflon or all of this would be for naught. That, and it neutralizes Bernard's connection to the network.

I got to the door a little after the worm should have finished downloading on every device, and judging by the fact that Bernard hadn't gotten an email from security saying that the system had been compromise, I felt confident in my work to hide the worm's presence.

The door opened, and the guys manning the security hubs greeted me like an old friend.

"You guys just manning the camera feeds?" I asked.

"Unfortunately so," Officer Devos responded. He beckoned me over just two days earlier, ecstatic over how his wife and daughter was doing. "Uneventfulness is just as much of a blessing as a curse."

"Better manning monitors down here than responding to those socialist riots up there, Stefan," Officer Novikov scoffed.

"In some ways, but I didn't leave the Royal Guard because I wanted to have myopia. Pay and benefits are better at least."

"Do you two really want to be broadcasting that with your boss in earshot?" I rebuked.

"Ah, we know you don't care," Novikov chided. Both of them were still glued to the wall of screens in front of us all, the back of their heads turned from me. "Do you need anything, Pascal?"

"No, just came to check in."

I grabbed Stefan's Kodiak sidearm and shot the two of them in the head, catching the shell casings before they fell to the floor. The room was sealed well enough that nobody should have heard the unsuppressed shots. Even if some did get out, the music was loud enough to negate that.