FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

I.C.E.: Acronym: Intrusion Countermeasures Electronics: The hardware and software created by corporations to counteract hacking attempts by rogue agents.

Simon grumbled within his packet. The compression was rather tight in these confines as the data was rocketing through the web. He had no control over what was going on as he bounced from San Francisco, to Belgium, Hong Kong, Moscow, Rio de Janeiro, back up to New York before making his way towards his intended goal of Paris. The email kept getting dinged, checked, scanned and processed. He just seriously hoped that his user had insulated him well enough to get through all of this.

Finally things started to slow down, stopping his shaky journey as the mail was superheated by the company's firewalls, trying to penetrate the black box he was in. If just a little crack in the code was there, he knew he'd be deleted before even seeing the inside of a Recycle Bin. Each CPU cycle felt like an eternity, meticulously combing over the bit of mail from a semi-known source. With an unceremonious jostle, Simon was dumped into the mail server for later processing.

Ada knew what she was doing. She might be young, but that only made people underestimate her, which suited the rat just fine. There was no way the bullshit the company was feeding her was real. Her parents certainly didn't just suddenly ghost on a business trip. Certainly not leaving her.

A small pile of energy drink cans were building up next to the twelve year old's bed, her foster parents certainly the neglectful type that people assumed her parents were. Less questions the better for Ada.

Her laptop hummed along her bed as she nervously pushed another handful of cheese crackers into her mouth, stuffing them in a cheek pocket before munching on them one at a time. Her program had to make it.

When the world seemed to stop shaking all over the place, Simon took a deep, non-existent breath, engaging the self extraction command. The packet within the email opened up, dropping the glowing mouse in the middle of the TERRACORP mail server. The glowing mouse's whiskers twitched, sniffing the heavy ozone of the system. It was so different than his user's laptop.

Ada's machine was warm, didn't function all that well, but there was a charm to it. Things here moved a lot faster, the air like the cold before a blizzard. If anything, it kept Simon alert. Scurrying behind a few files, Simon made his way towards the nearest network terminal. Placing his paw on the pad, he interfaced. The lines in and out of the network became visible to him. Most firewalls were more interested in keeping outside threats from getting in, but this one was smart, it kept things inside from getting back to the net.

But no defence is perfect, not when it had to interact with the rest of the world, and Simon found a port through. Making a secure channel, Simon contacted his user.

SM0N: Package delivered. Search to begin shortly.

Simon glanced around, reaching further into the terminal before grabbing a hold of a golden, fist-sized bauble. Bringing it behind his ear, he could move around and keep in contact. From here he had to head to the archives.

The mail server was a maze to get through. For the untrained eye, it looked like a simple grid, going between packet and packet, file to file. But with each grid, it formed a tree of connected data, snaking through the system out and around. Simon could see hundreds, if not thousands of other programs making their way through the halls of the mail room.

Getting past the inter-server defences was going to take a bit of finagling. Data that was going through the network here moved freely, but it was highly scanned, processed, and judged. A foreign program was not going to last long through the network.

Ada waited and leaned back in her bed, bringing her laptop onto her lap. It was running hot, but she didn't mind a burned thigh. Things were going to finally become clearer. The rat washed down her crackers with another energy drink, making it three times the recommended intake for a creature her size, and infinitely more than the none recommended for someone her age.

This was the worst part of this, the waiting. She really wished things were like in movies that she could just slap keys fast to hack. Sadly it was just totally boring. Nothing exciting really happens in hacking.

One of the local programs moved closer to Simon. They were alone. The mouse knew this was his only opportunity. Letting two more cycles tick before he pounced upon the helpless search program. Simon's hand wrapped around the surprised ferret's mouth, keeping her from making too much noise. His other arm wrapped around her neck. He could feel her processes quicken, spamming against his body.

She did her best to counter her attacker, but the smaller mouse was out of her weasely reach. Simon kept squeezing with one arm before the search program slumped before him. She wasn't deleted, he just stopped her run counter.

Touching over the ferret's forehead, Simon pulled on her port accesses and run allowances. She'll be awake by the next server reset, but by then, Simon should be long, long gone. Grabbing the ferret's cloak, he wrapped himself up, glowing a dull red, blending in with the rest of the search programs.

Pulling a random email out of one port, Simon strode towards the network line. A second firewall to make sure whatever the first one missed would be picked up. There wasn't any outside port to act as a go-around. Everything bottlenecked towards the fibre optic rail system. Simon realized that this was going to go one of two ways. Still, if he stayed here for too long, it would end again when the active scans started to course through the server.

Simon stuffed himself in a group of other cloaked search programs milling their way out of the server. Every moment a random program gets lifted, scanned deeply, and for the most part, placed back in the line. Simon knew he couldn't pass that sort of scrutiny. The only chance he had was luck at this point.

The towers surveyed the mass of data being funnelled through, vigilant on their duties. Simon did his best not to stare at them, and not stare at the ground. There was nothing he could do now as the line of red inspection lights grew closer and closer.

Simon's glowing eyes shut instinctively as he walked closer to the line. His processes were buzzing through his form, making him glow bright orange underneath his red cloak. Simon tugged the concealment tighter around him. This wasn't going to work. He couldn't turn back, that'd get him spotted in less than a cycle. Simon took one more step forward and the light before his eyes was a bright, angry red.

The blank page on Ada's monitor reminded the rat about all the spots on the screen where it was hit by the occasional stray cough, sneeze, or speech spittle. She wiped it off with an old shirt before sighing quietly, flopping back on her mattress.

She's going to have to write a whole new infiltration program. There was no way that this was going to work out. The only thing that she hoped is that the mouth-breathers at TERRACORP hadn't traced her programs back to her. Not that she could go to real jail or anything. Just another stint in Juvenal Corrections.

As she wondered if she'd meet her old buddies at the correctional facility, the screen flickered with text.

The program standing right in front of Simon was lifted up, brought towards inspection. Simon swallowed a squeak of victory, giving a quick two step to walk past where the other program was, making his way towards the network.

While search programs were some of the most often inspected and scrutinized programs within any system, they were so overly prevalent that hopefully no one was going to notice him. Tossing aside the email message, Simon stepped aboard the cable transport, setting his sites towards the company archives.

SM0N: Entry to TERRACORP network complete.

The trip through the fibre optic system gave Simon some time to steel himself for the next phase. Not as much time as, say, a CAT5 connection, but he still had a few cycles.

4252K2020c: Search for anything on AND* TESLA and/or CYNTHIA TESLA.

Simon knew his user had to keep confidential. He wasn't going to betray her knowledge even if he was going to be deleted in the process. Still, he knew his mission, find anything about Andrew and Cynthia Tesla, most importantly, where they might be now.

Previous programs for her user had scoured the email server, it was the easiest place to search, but he had to go deeper. He had to find out more. Cooling his processes once more, he glanced towards the doors as the transfer packet completed, stepping into the electronic metropolis of the archive servers.

Simon made his way to the nearest terminal, bringing up a map of the folder trees. It was chaotic with how much everything was organized; Times, personnel, projects, clients. Simon's head was spinning with the rush of information thrown at him. Steeling himself, he started to run his User's demands upon the system, starting to run through the various areas.

Ada was sitting up cross-legged in her bed. She had her tail in her mouth, chewing on the tip slowly as she waited for her program to respond. Her heart was beating in her throat right now. Perhaps this one will finally succeed where the last ones have failed. She finally made it past the initial firewall and the preliminary scans. Maybe life will treat her right this time?

Popping the tab of another energy drink, Ada sighed, pretty sure that Murphy was not going to let her get away that easily.

As Simon pulled his hand out of the terminal, everything went red for a moment. A single cycle of monochrome. The mouse's tail curled around his ankle, peering around through his cloak to see if the system went on alert. One cycle. Ten. Fifteen.

The nothing was killing him. Returning his courage, Simon started towards the folder that he thought would be the most relevant to his User's interests. Hundreds of programs were scurrying around. The amount of activity here made the e-mail server look like a romantic getaway where two programs could make and unpack a few BAT files and make whole new programs. The few cycles Simon was standing still, he was bumped and shoved by several search programs, moving as fast as they can to hopefully avoid the wrath of the update patch.

Two crystal blue eyes opened with a slow burn. The various interfaces of the server detected a potentially foreign program poking around in the archive. Glacier slowly made its way into the server. The massive boa constrictor made its way onto the perimeter of the drive. It's frozen body starting with blocking off access to the central networking cables, preventing the programs from leaving the system.

A hunt had only just begun, and Glacier had so longed for a good hunt.

<Network Communication Lost> flashed across Ada's screen, making the young rat open her mouth to swear, but she managed to pull it into a muffled groan. While this wasn't going to plan per se, she certainly had this figured. At least her program had autonomous functionality. If it can get the information and get back, then everything should be okay.

SM0N: Request Timed Out

Request Timed Out

Request Timed Out

He was alone. Metaphorically, sadly he wasn't alone in reality as Simon kept checking around his shoulders and behind him. The antivirus programs weren't storming the place. That might mean he has enough time to find what he's looking for, and get out before things get too close.

Going through the files, Simon found the Teslas' most recent logs. That would be the best place to start, at least. It was dated a day before the two went missing.

Log 19-46-A

Work on the Flynn device continues to progress. The mathematics of atomic decompiling and recompiling remain consistent. Matter is merely a function of electrical bonds, and that can translate to data without much issue, especially when processed through a quantum computer.

While non organic matter has remained simple to decompile, living or once living tissue remains an issue. Seems that while simple blocks and boxes and the sort don't have issue with the occasional molecule realignment, biological material gets considerably finicky.

Cynthia and I will be going in to reset the machine.

Simon tucked away the packet into his cheek pouch, seemed to be a useful bit of data as he started to scramble away. Darting towards the network he stopped in his track. Icy blue scales blocked the way out fifteen feet high. The countermeasures had already started.

There had to be a back door to the server somewhere, some place the programs liked to sneak through that didn't involve the main branches. A computer that hasn't run its updates, a thermostat or oven with Wi-Fi. Something.

Making with his sprint, Simon ran along miles upon miles of the snake. The ICE had already discovered his presence here on this server, now it just needed to find him in particular.

Glacier scanned through the various programs. Nothing too special, ones that checked off to the central machine's registry of its population. Raising his mighty head he scanned the whole server, letting his piercing gaze go through folders and files.

Finally one program made itself known. A small searcher program that wasn't on any registry was searching for a way out of the server. That certainly was a goal indeed. Glacier's face curved in the kind of smile it can't perform, staring intently towards the little mouse. He was going to have fun with this one.

Simon sighed quietly, this wasn't going quite to plan. He considered burying himself in a few folders, waiting for things to die down before trying to escape. It would be the best course of action, he felt as he looked around for somewhere so innocuous that no one would look for him there.

{Quick, go over there}

A twinge in the back of his head made him look over at one folder, the Costs Payable 2003 June folder. There was no way things would look for him there. Opening up the folder, Simon moved in, closing his eyes and sighing. It would take awhile, but he was certain it would be fine. Everything would be fine here.

{No need to run, rest here awhile.}

The folder seemed to grow colder, frosting the walls as Simon stroked over his arms, glancing out of the opening as he saw the scales growing closer and closer. The folder started to get smaller, more compact, perhaps it was just zipping to make more room, that's exactly what was going on.

The walls of the folder burst open as the scaled body of the ICE pressed up against Simon, making the program squeak in surprise. His golden eyes in lock with Glacier's icy blue ones. His body wanted to run, but his mind kept telling himself this was okay. This was perfect.

Glacier slowly bobbed his body around, staring intently at Simon, tickling his face with a chilly forked tongue, watching as the mouse's yellow eyes started to fade to blue, matching into the snake's. The tongue flicked over Simon some more, trying to taste where he came from. Who he came from.

He was clean. If there was to be a back trace, it was to take a lot longer than what Glacier could do at the very moment. His coils squeezed more and more around Simon, holding him coldly. The mouse's still body occasionally squirming a bit, subprocesses trying to get him to free himself, but things weren't moving the way they should. Glacier had taken over the program, coaxing him into his own routines.

Simon felt at peace, like a fresh install on a clean drive after an OS reinstall. Things were going well for everything. Simon watched as the snake's jaws unhinged, showing off long crystal blue fangs. Icy blue drips came from the digital mouth, framing a great, black beyond in the middle of its throat, a sort of frightening sight that seemed to cause Simon to hold still, his programming telling him that everything would be okay. It was the last thought in Simon's mind before Glacier suddenly darted forward, bringing the mouse into his mouth.

It was an icy warmth, somehow cold and yet like sitting next to a firewall on a crisp winter's night. Simon felt Glacier's body rippling around his head and shoulders, choking him down. The breathing tube tickled his toes as he was pulled more and more down. A dark, heavy channel, birthing him to the inside of the Countermeasure Program.

As Simon was enveloped, the spell was broken, his processes were his own once again as he gasped out loud. He could only pound on the walls before he was deposited into a warm cell. The Users will take a look at this rogue program while he is in quarantine, and they will determine the interloper's fate. For now, Glacier slowly lifted his body, letting the programs run free once again as he wound his way back towards his den, leaving a swath of broken files and folders. It is the purpose of the other programs to repair these broken sectors. Glacier's goal is only to stamp out any unwanted foreign bodies.

After an hour of nothing, Ada sighed dejectedly, closing her laptop. It was stupid, but she couldn't help but mourn each of these programs she created that never would return. It always seemed like they operated in a slightly unpredictable way, like a living thing. She just hoped that wherever it was, that last bit of software was relatively safe.