FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Note: The grammar is _the way it is on purpose, I swear -.- _

---

those without Value have no place in this world.

that is what we were told. every morning before Work, every evening before sleep, our Nurturers would instil within us this fact. like everyone else, i believed them, and so i Worked as hard as i could, always fearing the ever-reaching Grade of Value.

i still live under that system, no matter how i try to shake it. the fear of losing Value keeps me awake at night, even up here on the surface.

night...something i'm still not used to. in the Farm there is no darkness--darkness is inconvenient, hazardous, unProductive. the Shepherds keep everything bright. life runs in shifts; twelve hours Work; four hours recreation; eight hours sleep. no longer at the mercy of natural cycles, employees live alternating shifts so Harvest never ceases.

'mornin' ro', comes a voice from next to me. i don't turn my head, don't want her to see my tired expression. it's been months but i'm still not used to sleeping naturally. a paw touches my cheek, soft pad and gentle fur, but it's firm when it moves my head around to face the kangaroo lying next to me. her eyes are coal black, but their cool, calming colourlessness soothes me. her voice cracks with morning haze as she asks, 'how're you feeling? did you sleep any better?'

i can't help (no, she's been through this with me over and over again. self is important... I can't help. I...) but identify her unnecessary words. greetings are wasteful. one question would've sufficed. 'how long did you sleep?'six seconds for what could've taken one. in the Farm, six seconds could cost millions. instinctively I look at my wrist before remembering it's bare.

paluk grabs at the sheets when I sit up. 'hey! I wanna snuggle more. do you have to go now?'

'yes'. I rise and dress. paluk props herself up on her elbow, looking at me with something between frustration and pity. her nose twitches.

'we can start work later, the sun's barely up', she tries.

'I want to be Valuable', I say.

'you're Valuable to me', she says.

'that's not enough', I say.

I'm at the door when I hesitate, something I haven't done many times before. I turn, look at her. 'sorry. it's difficult.'

her voice is soft like her fur, like her paws and her eyes and her manner. 'I know. it's fine, I... I'll come out later. don't overdo it now. I love you.'

she smiles but I can't return it. four seconds wasted. should've been: 'accepted. I'll help later.'

I berate myself for getting irritated with her as I run down the stairs.

even as a child I never enjoyed sleeping. paluk told me her parents read bedtime stories when she was young, sang soft melodies and brought her warm things to drink. my own Nurturers would recite the Harvest Policy until I was old enough to drink the tonic.

once, I didn't drink it. I'm not sure why--some fragment of rebellion, or perhaps frustration at having barely made it above the Grade of Value the previous quarter. it was horrible, sleeping naturally; I barely managed it at all, feeling restless through the clamour of the third shift's Harvest. my parents knew immediately what I'd done when they saw my tired face and reported me to their Supervisors for intervention. I'd been lucky to make it out with only one black mark against my record and a dock in my wages--I'm certain the penalties would have been much worse had I not been a pup.

of course I wasn't mad at my Nurturers. they were simply doing their Job, and indeed what was Best for me: love is not a factor in raising a Future employee. instead, it was I who felt guilt, knowing it reflected badly on their record. Nurturing is one of the most challenging occupations in the Farm, and I didn't want to jeopardise their Prospects by turning out to be a bad Investment.

_I often wonder what they think of me now.

_

the air is already hot and dry when I get outside, and though I hate how the sun pricks at my skin beneath my ruddy coat, I like the way it wakes me up. paluk (no, P_aluk,_ names are important too) told me my kind used to thrive up here in the bush, and my fur certainly matches that of the red-stained earth, but I suppose generations spent in controlled temperate humidity change an animal's acclimatisation.

I wave away some flies and head to the maintenance Building for today's list of Daily Tasks. Working up here on the surface is as much for my own benefit as the settlement we live in: the Farm's schedules are Perfected, refined by billions of algorithmic checks and balances and managed by an infallible board of Shepherds and Supervisors, and the sudden shock of removing myself from that ecosystem was almost crippling. without Work I'd lose all Value, and without Value I'd have no place in this world, and so for me and the six other ex-employees living up here, the Daily Tasks are our lifeline. even though we're sometimes just given idle busywork by the old brumby running the maintenance Building, it's enough to keep us going. or most of us, anyway.

when I get there I see cyan two-twenty-two and Administrator yellow fifteen already waiting. cyan is visibly distressed, and I want to talk to him, but I don't. neither does yellow fifteen.

they haven't taken surface names yet. I probably wouldn't have either, but Paluk made one up for me. she'd tried a few out until she'd found one that stuck. Robin. I'd thought it strange she'd name me after an animal that had apparently once lived in the skies. She tells me it's a tribute to them, and that it fits because I'm always moving about the place. I don't think the latter part is a compliment.

names don't exist in the Farm. names lead to ego, ego leads to selfishness and selfishness leads to unProductivity. instead, an employee's id denotes their crop, then their plot, and finally their individual Worker number. since we do not interact with employees outside of our crop, we simply used the latter number when we talk during meals and recreation.

_for a long time, my closest associate was fifty-two, born just minutes after me. we shared many things in common; we were only a number apart, we both worked as sorters, we were both constantly in danger of falling below the Grade of Value, and we both liked eating protein option 1 over 2 and 3. Paluk tells me he must have been my friend--a word she herself only recently taught me. I think she must be right, because I felt an emotion I'd never experienced before when he disappeared from the Roster--sadness. _

terror, too. I was only thirteen when it happened. the next quarter, I worked harder than ever before.

'...and here's your list, fifteen. all you've got to do is make sure there's no holes in each of the nets and the rain shields still work', I hear Waargyl say.

Administrator yellow fifteen follows the pad's instructions, heading for the youcka crops.

Waargyl is the unspoken mayor of the settlement. he's a chestnut-furred brumby with a limp and a crooked ear, but I've never heard him complain about it. in fact, the only time I've seen him act anything other than jolly was after he told me he was named after the colourful serpent that carved out the riverbeds and valleys of our land, and I replied that he was wrong, that rain and erosion did that. Paluk later told me that sometimes things are more nuanced than that, and I told her she was wrong too.

'Robin! just as early as always. how's the fair lady?'

'I think I upset her.'

'...right. not on purpose, I hope?'

'she wanted me to stay in bed.'

'well, yes, I suppose she did.' the aging equine sorts through his collection of datapads. I have to crane my neck to see up to his face. 'how do you feel about that?'

'about her wanting me to stay in bed?'

'about upsetting her.'

I mull it over. 'also upset.'

Waargyl gives me a look. He has a pad in his hand, but after a moment of consideration he swaps it out for another and gives that to me instead. 'the filters on the purslane sprinklers could do with a clean. it's a fair walk--I'm afraid the cycles are all booked out.'

'it's fine. thank you.'

'and Robin?'

I turn back to him.

'Paluk loves you.' --something about that brings a twang to my chest-- 'and I don't know if you're capable of returning that. but I know you like being around her at least, so... make sure she knows, alright? cherish her.'

I nod, but can't meet his eye.

different Farms use different means to prevent employees from entering relationships with each other. some put severe penalties in place, others use pills or preventative castration. my own Farm, Progress, uses a tonic to supress unwanted desires. but while the methods of enforcement vary, one Rule is absolute; love is against Policy.

despite this, or perhaps because of it, Breeder has become one of the most prestigious occupations available to employees. Potential candidates must exhibit high Standards of physical and intellectual ability, and after fifty-two's disappearance and my subsequent quarters of intensely hard work, my own Value had increased enough by the time I turned sixteen to meet those standards. I was taken into a room and had a coil of wires attached between my ears, while a screen was set up in front of me and a tape set to play. this was to be the first test of three, and I was excited at the chance to serve such an honourable role, even if I knew nothing about its workings.

but within four minutes I was rejected and sent back to work as a sorter.

I could never understand what happened until Paluk asked which of the two on the screen I'd been watching. recalling Farm Policy, I realised that Progress was perhaps less Progressive than its name would suggest, and I was just glad my 'affliction' of orientation hadn't left a black mark on my record.

'you're taking a while on those filters.'

I jump. Paluk is getting off a cycle, the electric engines silent. she powers it down and walks over, tail dragging through the dirt. 'I only just got here', I tell her, then nod to the cycle. 'Waargyl told me those were all booked out.'

'they were. one of them for me.'

I finish cleaning the dust off one of the copper mesh filters and fit it back into place. 'how'd you know my location?'

she shrugs, then drawls, 'you certainly seem pleased to see me. I can go if you want.'

'I want you to stay.'

a small smile. she comes up and slips an arm around me as I clean the second filter. I find myself pushing back into her. even when she isn't around, Paluk is always on my mind, distracting me. I certainly don't agree with Farm Policy, but I can see why they gave us the pills. I'm getting less productive by the month.

'what else is on the big list o' Jobs for obedient dingoes? gotta do some surveying, or fix some machinery or sweep some paths?' 'do you have more Tasks?' more time wasted.

'nothing.' there's a pause and then Paluk lets go of me. I fit the second filter back in and turn to see the kangaroo now standing with her arms crossed, tail thwacking the dirt. I add, 'this was my only task.' when she still doesn't say anything, I try to stop my claws clicking against each other and elaborate. 'Waargyl doesn't have any more Tasks for me, so I have the rest of the day off.'

Paluk smiles and pats me on the cheek. 'good Job, you're becoming quite the conversationalist.' she perches on one of the limestone walls bordering the crop of flowers and pulls me down next to her. 'remember when we were here last?'

I think. 'we had sex for the first time.'

she snorts. 'no, we kissed for the first time.'

I don't see the difference. it all feels as wonderful as the rest.

'and you weren't very good at it either, but I can forgive you for that. and you've definitely Improved.' She leans in and I instinctively meet her. our muzzles aren't exactly compatible, but her lips feel nice against mine and her tongue laps me playfully.

suddenly she pulls away. 'Ro! you're... what's that?' she points behind me. I stand up, turn around, don't see anything. then my tail bats her face and she squeals and falls backward into the crop, squashing flowers beneath her. I try and help her back up but she grabs the neck of my tanktop and pulls me on top of her, laughing all the while.

'I'm sorry', I say, 'I--'

'your tail! you're literally wagging it! have you ever seen anyone else do that before?'

'no. get up, you're damaging the purslane.'

she doesn't let me go. 'oh leave it. I knew I was fixing you! before long you'll be barking too.' I don't move, trying not to let us squash any more flowers. their yellow petals are strikingly bright, as luminescent as Paluk's playful gaze. she runs a finger along my lips, pushing them open slightly to touch my teeth. she shivers. 'I know it's stupid, but these things still freak me out a little. how don't you bite yourself whenever you chew?'

I shrug. she shrugs too, with great exaggeration. I sigh. 'it's biology. they're important for chewing tough meat. when I first saw your teeth, I wondered how they fit in your mouth.'

'oh, well, that's charming.' she reaches behind her and, ignoring the glare I'm shooting her, plucks one of the purslane flowers and pops it into her mouth. 'mmn, yummy. much better than gross, wobbly protein cubes.'

my stomach growls.

I hadn't been lying about her teeth. despite the wide range of shapes, sizes and colourings of the animals working in the Farm, we all have one thing in common; sharp canines. seeing Paluk's big, flat teeth had been far more surprising to me than her heavy tail, or the way she can take great bounding leaps when she runs, or even the soft, furry pouch on her front that I'd seen the first night we'd slept together.

I often wonder why, when Paluk told me what those flat, broad teeth meant, I wasn't angry. why I didn't shove her, or hit her, or even bite her. after all, it's the diet of her kind that keep us down there, forever working. vegetation can't grow on the surface anymore, at least not in the quantities needed by an ever-expanding herbivore population, and they need strong, hardy, agile animals to grow it. quolls, dunnarts, foxes, bats, dingoes like me... we fit the bill and were barely making a living, and the Shepherd's saw their opportunity and took it.

perhaps I'm being ungrateful. Working in the Farms keeps us fed, sheltered and paid, meagre as it may be. it's not like we'd ever be accepted for surface Jobs.

and in a way, I envy Paluk's diet. her meals cannot think, cannot dream or feel pain.

_I sometimes wonder if, down there in the cool, tiled dining halls, I ever ate fifty-two.

_

Paluk has eaten even more flowers now. it should bother me more, but for some reason it doesn't. I pluck one of the flowers for myself, twirl it between the pads of my digits. purslane are native flowers, growing here long before even Waargyl's kind arrived. I wonder if that's the reason it's able to grow in this inhospitable atmosphere, when all the other crops failed.

'what do you do with these?' I ask.

Paluk gives me a look. I haven't asked her a question like this before, one not related to any Task or desire. 'lots of things. see those little black seeds inside? we can make flour with those if we ground them up, for damper. the stems hold a lot of water too, so they're good to take on long trips. and the petals we can steam or boil, if we're feeling fancy. but I like them just fine raw.'

I sniff it. it gives off a sweet scent, not unlike Paluk's fur. I know she buys expensive things to wash herself with when she takes her trips into the city, which I never saw the point of. but I think I'm beginning to like it.

I open my mouth and pop the flower in. one bite later and a horrible sourness bursts out and I spit the bedraggled petals out in disgust. 'I don't like it.'

'I can tell. gotta keep trying stuff though. I'm sure one day I'll find something you like eating more than recycled ding--er... meat.'

'maybe I could find something in the city.'

Paluk gives me a pitying look. 'I don't... like I've said, it's best you stay here. I know it isn't... like, illegal for you to be up here, but... well, you know what some animals are like. there's a reason we're out where we are, after all.'

actually, it is illegal. the terms of my employment Contract, signed when I turned twelve, are very clear about that. but the farm was hardly about to come up here and drag back six wayward employees from a staff of several hundred thousand.

_F_arm, I correct myself, seeing the word in my mind. Farm, with a Capital F.

Literacy is an important part of Farm curriculum. Maximising Output from a minimal number of words; ensuring language is pro-Industry; and, most vital of all, Capitals. 'Capitalisation lends a word importance, dignity, and Respect', we're told. 'without it, we cannot know what it good.'

Currency, no matter where it originates, is always Capitalised. important occupational titles are too, for they denote Contribution to Industry. so are words like Work, Cooperation, Success and Value.

Names are not Capitalised, of course. And competing companies' titles aren't either, although many get around this by branding themselves as existing Capitalised words. my own Farm, Progress, being one such example.

when I described this to Paluk one night she was appalled. she said it takes away our individuality, turns us into faceless Workers, makes us share everything and prevents us thinking for ourselves. when I told her that out here everyone wears identical rain-proof jackets, share their food and resources with others and has to work to make a living, she told me it wasn't the same and turned to the other side of the bed.

_but perhaps she's right. perhaps focusing on these Capitals is preventing me from seeing the true Value in things. I should stop it, or at least try.

_

'Cyan left this morning', Paluk says quietly. We're sitting on the limestone wall again, looking out over the barren plains of dust, grey towers muddying the distant horizon beyond. I nod.

'He told me his intentions.'

She lifts her head as if surprised, seems to think, then sighs and rests against me again. Her paw touches my cheek. 'You didn't try and stop him?'

'He misses it.'

'You really think they're going to let him in again?'

'No.'

Paluk's fingers run through my hair. It hasn't been cut since I left. Her grip grows tight and I try to disentangle her paws but she pulls my muzzle close to hers and whispers, 'do you miss it?'

A long moment of quiet. Then, 'About a third', I say, the best I can quantify it. I hear Paluk gulp.

'...Do you want to go back?' she whispers.

'No.'

'Why not?'

'You're here.'

I still remember turning back to look at Nurturers yellow eighty-two and eighty-eight the day the dining hall wall exploded. They hadn't tried to stop me leaving with the intruders--they were no longer my parental unit after all, having taken up a new Future employee. I don't know what I'd been expecting to see... disappointment, or encouragement?

There was nothing. They appeared completely unmoved as they watched me standing at the threshold of escape. I was conflicted, worried leaving might damage their Prospects, like when I hadn't taken my tonic--and their lack of care hurt me, another new feeling.

Already builders were calling for materials and making plans to patch up the gaping hole in the wall. One of the intruders was grabbing my arm, urging me to come, but I was desperate for _something from my old parents. I ran to them, ignoring the pain of shattered tiles underfoot, and asked if I should stay._

'No', eighty-two had said without doubt.

'Explain', I'd said.

'You've demonstrated a defect.'

I'd looked at her. She'd looked at me. And then I'd turned, sprinted for the hole. A sheet of carbon was already being set up, had nearly covered the exit. For a moment it seemed I'd missed my chance but an arm stuck out, held the sheet open just enough to let me dive in. As the hole sealed shut behind us, I saw only five others of the six hundred in the dining hall had chosen to come.

The arm that had kept the hole open was attached to a kangaroo. A kangaroo with soft fur, gentle black eyes, and big, flat teeth. She'd helped me up, held my paw for just a little longer than necessary, then led the way to the support shaft through which her group had come.

As we'd clambered up through the tight shaft, Paluk had noticed the smile on my face, asked what was so funny.

'My Nurturer said I demonstrated a defect', I'd told her.

Paluk had looked confused at that, but I couldn't stop smiling. Perhaps a Nurturer could love after all. There was no other reason she would suggest I leave except to prevent me being fired. She'd saved my life.

_It wasn't the only love I found that day.

_

'I should head back. Waargyl might have another task for me, and I should give him his pad back.' I stand up and stretch, then see Paluk is grinning.

'Why not 'I will return for more Tasks'? That's, what, a full three seconds you could've saved?'

I hesitate. She's right, and she knows it.

'Besides, you told me you were done for the day. Why don't we go back home? I could do with some air conditioning.' She steps close behind me, arms curling around my middle. I relax into her and she nuzzles my neck. 'Plus, you really need a shower.'

'So do you', I tell her, though I'm not sure if she actually does.

'...And saving water is important, even if it's been refiltered several thousand times, so we should definitely have it together.' One paw slides up further, graces my breast. I sigh happily, another feeling I hadn't experienced until I met Paluk.

'That sounds nice.'

I follow her to the cycle and this time it's my turn to put my arms around her. As she powers it up and starts us down the hill toward the settlement, I pull myself as close against her as I can. 'I love you', I tell her.

'What?' Paluk shouts over rushing wind.

She didn't hear me, but I don't mind. I'm excited--I can say it! Say it truthfully! I love her. _L_ove her. And she Loves me back.

And I decide maybe that's more important to me than any quantifiable measure of value.