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Salt Lake City.

It's the 2070's. My name is Robert Deckard. Just call me Robby. So, you think my town is all happy go lucky? No crime in the streets? The veritable image of those old 2D sitcoms like Leave it to Beaver, Father Knows Best, and The Andy Griffith Show? You would like to think that, wouldn't you?

Well, let me tell you, everything here in Salt Lake City, the crime and the seediness, is all underground. Me? I'm Robert Deckard, one of those "Magicians" you hear about. Don't worry, I don't do anything magical. Anything I do that is remotely magical is my mind and my intelligence asserting itself on the world around me. Yes, I'm a psion, and I graduated with a Master's Degree in Applied Quantum Mechanics from Brigham Young University to prove it. Although, I prefer the term: "Shaper."

I'm a seeker of truth. Truly, I am. And in my seeking the Truth of all things, I have come across things that you wouldn't believe. There are truths out there that are light and fluffy and easy to take in. Like a roll of cotton candy. Others are like the red, red rose. Beautiful and full of life. But then their are dark truths that can cut you like a sword. They are hard to take, they are sharp, jagged, and terrible.

In light of the Awakening that happened about sixty years ago, those of my tradition believed that it would be a true awakening to lead mankind into the Age of Aquarius. No more war, no more greed, and every child would have a book to read. My predecessors felt sure that mankind would be led into the future with peace and love. With the knowledge we gained about ourselves, we could finally escape all Superstition and be led by Mystics and Scientists into a new golden age.

Then Daniel Howling Coyote happened and his Great Ghost Dance. And everything changed. People stopped listening to us and started turning to these spirits for their magical knoweledge. Spiritual magic is a crutch, an opiate. But Daniel Howling Coyote turned everything upside down and led Mankind into a new era of Magic and Supersitition in this new Age of Aquarius. But still we persevere. Still, we of the psionic tradition still have hold of several of the prestigious universities in UCAS, England, Austria, and here in the Pueblo Corporate Council, the Salish-Sidhe Council, and Hawai'i. Our tradition will live, and persevere until Mankind realizes that "Magic" and "Spirits" are just naught but superstitious nonsense.

However, that is not my story. My story begins in September of 2070. At 12:01 in the Afternoon, on a Friday; in fact. It began when my roommate wanted me to do something. My roommate and I are outside, and he -- being this tough ork, works for the local police department.

"So, what are you doing?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said. "I thought I'd take in the sights on my day off. Visit Brother Brigham's grave, go to Temple Square, have dinner at the Lion House, that sort of thing."

My roommate then said, "You do that every day."

"It's the only way I can stay balanced. You know my work. I spend a lot of time at the lab working on new applications for particle physics. Right now, we are working on neutrinos and how our desires affect them . . . "

"Yeah, so, how you would you like to do something different?" he asked.

"In what context?" I said.

My roommate took my shoulder in his arm and said, "Robby, Robby, Robby, how would you like to do some undercover work."

"Me?"

"We are looking for a civilian to do some undercover work at an Escort Service which we suspect is operating illegally. And we've chosen you."

"What?"

"It's simple, you go in dressed to the nines, and check out their auctions. Buy something, and record everything for us."

"I'm not a policeman!"

"Which makes you perfect for this job. Think of it, excitement, danger, a little shadowrunning for the Salt Lake Police . . . "

"I'm not a Shadowrunner, Mike," I retorted.

"Okay, okay, but we need someone who isn't connected to the police on this job," said Michael. "So we chose you."

I moaned. I didn't like the idea of going into an escort service and playing for the Police Department. It seemed so dangerous. What if the escort service wasn't on the up and up? It seemed scary, after all why wouldn't the undercover cops work this beat? "Why me? Why not a real undercover cop?" I asked.

Mike then said, "Because you're conspicuous. And you'll play the part that we need. A normal, everyday man off the street looking for companionship. Remember, your serving your city's interests for this."

I just groaned. I was so used to breaking my own routine. If I wanted to break my routine, I'd do it on my own time. Still, Mike, my friend since Elementary school, asked. "Alright, alright. I'll humor you. I'll do it."

"Good man," Mike grinned. "I knew you wouldn't let me down."

"I have a feeling that I'm going to regret this."

"Nonsense," Mike said.

***********

There I was, standing outside this warehouse, in the rain. Yes, it was raining, and I had to wear a coat over my work clothes. I typically wear a light colored jacket, but in this case. Mike told me to wear a black raincoat. I typically wore white, but black? I went along with it.

So I'm standing outside of this warehouse on 5600 West near California Avenue. And Mike said over my commlink, "Okay, Robby, showtime. Walk in and introduce yourself."

"Mike, did I mention that I have some misgivings about walking into a house of prostitution?"

"You'll be fine."

I walked towards the door. Walking in a natural gait, even though my heart was blazing with all the nervousness I felt. I opened the door and walked right in. A secretary walked and noticed me.

"Ah, hello sir," said the secretary. "Are you here for the special auction?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, right this way, sir," she smiled. "I'm pretty sure you will enjoy it."

"Excuse me, are we buying the services of a good escort girl?" I asked.

"In a way, yes," she explained.

I was led into a room full of suits. They all were dressed up in business suits, wearing dark colors, dress shirts, and ties. They were of all ages. Some looked like they were controllers of corporations, others looked like middlemen. The secretary took my coat, and there I was, looking like a nerd in my out of style pinstriped business suit with my dress shirt open and my tie not pushed up to my neck. Nervous, I took my seat. The lights go dim and I waited, still nervous. I wondered if any mages that work for this establishment could use abilities that registered emotions. I hoped not.

An older woman took the stage, as the spotlights light her up. "Gentlemen, we are about to begin," she said. As she said so, I started up my recording device. It was a miniature trideo recording device, nothing fancy like a simsense recording.

"We have for you a good selection of exotic girls who will fit your needs," she started. The curtains drew back and I was surprised at what I was seeing. The first girl to be led on stage was a changeling. She was covered in scales, green scales, and wore very little except for ropes and a gag. She looked so unhappy. She looked down, never blinking. I was, to say, surprised that this was going on in the city of light. Her tail, long and sinewy, just waved unhappily. Slavery, that's what it looked like. The changeling was enslaved. I couldn't bear the shock.

"Here, I have a lizzan," she said. "Guaranteed to make you feel special. I will start the bid at one thousand nuyen."

Mike's voice was equally surprised. "A slave ring," he chirpped.

"Keep it down, you didn't tell me if this connection is secure or not," I said.

Mike said confidently, "Don't worry, I have my best hacker working to make sure this matrix channel is secure."

"Just keep it down, will you?" I whispered.

The men around me were in a bidding frenzy. Soon, the lizzan was sold at twenty-five thousand nuyen. I lost my nervousness as it turned to disgust. Changelings were humans that changed into something else during the Year of the Comet. The phenomenon known was known as Sudden Unexplained Regressive Genetic Expression. Some humans and meta-humans, if you want to call them that, suddenly expressed themselves with animal traits. There are type I changelings who looked more or less human with some kind of animal trait, then there are type II changelings which looked human but had some obivious human traits, and those that survived it -- Type III -- which are derogatorily called "Furries."

Some changelings of Type III sometimes called themselves Wildlians, and said that the SURGE allowed them to express who they really are. Animals in human bodies. However, other Changelings didn't get the luck of the draw and with a planet of close to 5 billion human beings; most simply became hated for what they are and some others found work producing porn for those who were into that sort of thing.

I just sat there for two hours, as various human beings who looked like some kind of synthesis of man and animal were auctioned off like animals. Sometimes, men were auctioned off. One was a particularly strong dog-morph who had the head and look of a wolf. Another was a male crocodillian. Soon, my disgust turned to anger.

"Alright, mike," I whispered. "I'm going to bid on the next one."

"Finally."

"This is illegal, but I'm going to bid."

"Just becareful, okay?"

"I will."

"Part of the plan is that you will bid."

"I just hope that I don't get someone who likes it."

"That will take a lot of visits to the shrink, Robby. Be careful. You might get a mouth to feed for the rest of your life."

"Don't remind me," I replied. I can always have her read the Book of Mormon_._

The woman took the stage. "Alright, I have a special one for you," said this woman. The curtains parted to reveal a dog-morph. Just not any dog morph, but a husky. It was a she, and she had the markings of a dog-morph, copper fur on top white down her front with a white muzzle, well, she was muzzled. She was also tied up and naked, she had these blue eyes that wouldn't quit. Her breasts were not tied up but fell neatly between the rope. They were furred, except for the areola and the nipple. And they were nicely shaped too . . . What am I thinking? I'm bidding because I'm angry, not because I am admiring a girl that just happened to be auctioned off as a slave. I promised myself that I would bid, this time. And win.

"This is Silvara," the woman said. "As you can see, this is a siberian husky sled dog morph. And we saved the best for last, she is guaranteed, one hundred percent pure. We will start the bidding at fifteen thousand."

One, a Ute elf business man raised his hand. "Ah, fifteen thousand, do I hear sixteen?"

I raised my hand.

"Ah, sixteen to the gentleman in the pinstriped suit. Do I hear seventeen?"

The Ute raised his hand again. "Seventeen thousand," the auctioneer said.

"Twenty thousand nuyen," I blurted.

"Twenty thousand from the man in the pinstriped suit. Do I hear twenty one?"

"Twenty five thousand," the Ute elf again. Man, does this guy have a furry fetish or what? The Ute elf bought a male lizzan who had a Komodo dragon head and a sculpted body, and a wolf woman. Who is this guy to buy such exotic changelings? Nevertheless, I was determined to have this girl not be a slave to anyone.

"Thirty thousand."

"Thirty five," said the Ute elf. The tied up girl couldn't hardly believe her eyes. Two men were bidding for her. Her sky blue eyes just went big.

"Forty thousand," I said.

"Fifty thousand nuyen!" said the elf.

"Fifty thousand going once . . ."

"I'll pay sixty thousand nuyen," I announced. The Ute elf sat down. I apparently went what he was willing to pay. I looked all proud that at least, I can save one girl from slavery.

"Sixty thousand going once, going twice, sold to the gentleman in the pinstripped suit!" she hit her gavel, meaning that the last "escort girl" was bought and paid for.

The girl was led off the stage. I looked so happy and so proud to have bought the freedom of one changeling. Then all at once reality hit me. Sixty thousand . . . thats like most of my bank account! I held my head in my right hand as the ennormity of the price hit me like a tonne of bricks.

"Whoa, Robby, that's no small change," said Mike, impressed. "You must have liked the girl you bidded on."

"Shut up, Mike," I retorted. I left the room and headed over accounting to pick up my new girl. I have to make the transaction, I don't want to be in debt just to get a girl out of slavery. And they called this an escort service, good grief. I wondered why I had to make a bid out of anger and pride. Now I'm saddled with a husky girl worth sixty thousand nuyen.

*****

Interesting first start, yes?

There's no yiff in this first story, but I hoped you enjoyed it. I think you know what to do. And there are "furries" in Shadowrun. Just read page 58 of the Runner's Companion.