FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

FMII-4133, or as she was named by Robert Johnson in 2039, Elizabeth Johnson stares at the same wall she's stared at for some three thousand years, not because she's trapped in the twenty-first century home, but because there is nothing left she wants to see. It was in this spot that she gained her artificial life, here when she told Robert some three thousand years prior that her artificial womb was fertilized. When she lived here with Robert, she remembers what the outside looked like, her databases never failed her, but the light of the sun no longer enters the windows, its probably night... She doesn't want to look in the mirror or window or sink, the last time she did she desired the one of the two things she could not have; Death.

The memories of what she deemed her "rightful life", around three centuries, replay endlessly, the day she was woken up to tend to the lonely man's home, no more than an in-home cook and cleaning service. Oh how bright her polymer fur was back then, before the sun had bleached it and it had grown so brittle. In that instance of an instant where her ocular drives fire between replayed memories she sees the wall of her home, the green wallpaper peeled, drywall not fixed in some time. Was it hundreds of years? Or thousands now? She'd had a few visitors in this long night, say why was the sun not coming out? One group came to ask about Robert, which was odd, couldn't they have asked Haeric, he should be just down the street, he moved there in 2296, she wonders why they don't ask him about the 23rd century, no, her clock reads that its 5129, odd, surely it must be an error.

That thought it was the first to take her away from the wall in, well however long it was. She turns to the mirror, funny, it's broken. Her bedroom, the same bedroom she shared with robert some time ago, has only one wall with anything left on it. This worries her, something her logic circuits haven't pinged in, well, ever. Her actuators, motors, and bearings scrape as she takes steps, in what amounts to a limp, she'd always wondered what that's like. It brings a smile to her foxen face. Oh maybe she will get recoated again, it's been far too long, the grandkids did want to get her a natural fur exterior last time and christmas should be in a few months. Actually how are the grandkids?

She creates another note in her file-log, get a tune up on upgrades, including artificial reproductive organs, DNA synthesizer, and fluid management system, as she stumbles her way through the house. The living room must've had a leak in it, as the ceiling has collapsed. The windows are open, but there's still no sunlight. Elizabeth stumbles her way into the mudroom only to find rubber soles where her shoes should be, and even they seem worn down by time. No matter, her artificial paws are rated to walk on hot concrete. In her diagnostics menu and control panel she deactivates the artificial pain receptors in her lower legs and steps out into what should be a well-to-do neighborhood full of children.

Instead Elizabeth steps out into what appears to be a massive warehouse, ten stories high and going on as far as her cameras can see in any direction. The dark imposing building seems to be in disrepair and nothing makes a sound, not a rat squeaking nor pigeon cooing. Her street is a collection or run down houses as is the rest of her neighborhood. She walks down all five streets and when she comes to the entrance a sign stands. "21st Suetary Esebet: Kooah Mae 4381!" Absolutely incomprehensible. She laments not installing the deciphering driver when it was free in late 2400. Where the main road was is now some sort of track, the old asphalt ripped from the ground and nowhere to be seen. She follows the rails, finding the town she and Robert had retired to all those years ago gone. As the rail pivots from eastward to northward, a much more modern looking town emerges. As she approaches the town she notices more of that unintelligible writing, strange symbols or letters adorning what appears to be a checkpoint of sorts. A guardpost is stuffed with a mannequin wearing some sort of green and brown uniform with armor plating over the chest. What is quite obviously the train stop has another legible sign; "32nd Suetary Mhirichari Baic". She wanders the town, finding a depot of military vehicles, the tires having long since dry rotted, the tracks rusted, and some lack either. The buildings are full of military paraphernalia, uniforms, pictures of battles and equipment in action, and something with electricity powered on. A sort of screen to be sure, playing a clip of some sort of military aircraft dropping bombs on a bunker flashing "Onitet Stytes Air Fyrse". Her CPU heats up at trying to figure out the words before she finally realizes that it means United States Air Force. Darn youngins is all she thinks. As she explores the town and tries to decipher more. She finds a locked room, but just twisting the door caused it to rip free of the rotted door. "Tram Kontr" displays above a control panel. After a while of fenagiling she thinks she gets the train working. Stepping out to await her cinematic autotram to arrive she realizes she neglected to press the "Tram Recus". Once she does, an hour passes before a rusted shell of a train arrives.

Despite its awful condition, Elizabeth rides the train to what seems to be the entrance, and it only seems that way because there's sets of revolving doors with sunlight emerging from them. She exits, and steps out from the doors. A city stands before her, one of glass, stone, and greenery. People are mulling about above her, but the asphalt roads around the strange complex are broken apart by trees. She calls out to the people walking on the glass skywalks, but none hear or simply ignore it. She follows along the forested streets looking for a way up when she finally finds a concrete on ramp that connects to one of the spire-like buildings. Once up there all voices stop.

A crowd of people all wearing strange clothes with strange haircuts turn and stare at her. Its as silent as death until one man whispers something inaudible.

"Does anyone know where Frank's Tune-Ups and Resurfacing is anymore? Garden Oaks seems to be in a warehouse these days?" She asks, noting her voice sounds oddly mechanical.

A woman feints.

Soon, what appears to be some sort of police arrive and detain Elizabeth, nobody seems to understand her. She's dragged to the police station and left there for many days. Eventually someone arrives who can speak english. A sort of historian who's interested in her databases. She provides them and is offered a tour of his museum and aids in translating the names. Then not three days after that, a plasma bolt from some sort of political extremist ends her mechanical processes. As she lay, her central thorium core destroyed her final capacitors and few lithium ion batteries bleeding charge, she experiences what she thinks is either data corruption, or a hallucination. The sound of horns and singing, calling her to join them beyond the gates. Not with a black shutoff screen, nor slow degrading parts failure did Fox Model II number 41 of lot 33 die, in fact FMII-4133 died near enough to 3500 years before her chassis failed. A life had ended, the long life of Elizabeth Johnson, mother, wife, birthed children without having anything but a power cell of her own. While the historian tried to rebuild her, he quickly learned that this machine had affected everyone in the region when gene smiths analyzed her artificial womb. Near enough to everyone in Ylthic was a direct decendent of her. So had Elizabeth ended, slain by her own decedents, her chapter over in the never ending story.