FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"Bye mom, see you when I get home," I whispered to the slumbering woman passed out on the couch. She rolled over and grumbled something that barely resembled human speech. It wasn't surprising; working the graveyard shift at a busy hospital would do that to the best of people. I closed the front door as quietly as possible and began to make my way to school.

I shivered as the frigid December winds cut through my thin jacket like a knife. Even though Southern California is known for its seeming imperviousness to the winter chill most other places endure, there are still those days where you can walk outside and tell Jack Frost is playing hard ball with the local meteorologist.

I hiked up my jacket and readjusted my backpack as I picked up the pace and hurried to the school gates. I trudged my way up the sidewalk, hoping to just get through another day at this damned place.

_ I could just skip again; no one would notice. Then again, I'd rather not end up as truant. Mom doesn't need that on her plate now._ I sighed; this was what it always came down to: risking my mom's crumbling sanity for something as petty as a few cold shoulders in the classroom or suffering through another day of frigid stares and indifference. Why did it even matter? I was there to learn, not to make friends.

I still had another half hour until the bell rang for class, and it looked like I was the only one here. Not much of a surprise considering over half the kids rode public buses to get here, and the others that came by car, bike, or whatever didn't arrive until just before the first bell. The sidewalk and parking lot were covered in trees, barren in the winter chill. The only cars present were those belonging to the teachers and administrative staff.

I was alone, again. But alone was just the way I liked it. Moving from place to place, I learned to become well acquainted with silence and solitude. No annoying pleasantries and half-witted conversations with the general public.

_ Nobody to talk to either._ I shook the thought off.

_ Just me, the wind, and the few winter birds here for the next few months. Yep, just us and -_

"Good morning young man. Can you tell us where the administrative office is?" a voice behind me asked.

_ So much for the serenity of solitude,_ I thought half-heartedly, as I busied myself with my locker, keeping my back to the intruder.

"It's just around the corner on your left, big double doors with a ridiculously large painting of a musketeer on the ground in front of it. You can't miss it," I said dismissively, thinking I could return to relative silence and enjoy a few peaceful moments before I was again surrounded by the drone of other people who go about their days oblivious to the lonely shell amongst them.

"Thanks kid, what's your name?" the voice continued. I took a moment to register how deep the voice was and swore I could make out the slightest lisp behind those words. The accent didn't match the typical SoCal "bro speech," as I liked to call it; even the adults here were plagued with it.

Now, slightly curious, and honestly, aching for a decent conversation, I turned around. Now, I've been described as stoic one or two times before, and I consider it a point of pride that I don't wear my emotions on my sleeve like some people. So, I think it was to my credit that my jaw didn't hit the floor like an imbecile at what I saw, though that was damn near what happened; my lack of interpersonal communication skills admittedly helped with my lack of facial expression this time.

Standing before me were three people who were definitely capable of eliciting a jaw-drop reaction. The one closest to me, the one I assumed was talking to me, was a huge...bear. LITERALLY! I mean, he had to be almost eight feet tall, complete with a honey brown coat of fur, black claws, slight paunch, and a square muzzle. Okay, the blue eyes weren't exactly what I was expecting, but hey, was I really going to let that be the thing I puzzled over? Answer: maybe. He was as big around as two full-grown men and what little part of him wasn't covered in muscle was insulated by a healthy amount of fat, giving him a warm yet intimidating aura.

My eyes flicked briefly to the left behind him in the direction of a lithe leopard, who was considerably shorter than the bear, maybe only six feet or so. He had predominately black fur covered in paint-like smatterings of dark gray spots. Fluorescent yellow eyes struck a sharp contrast with his dark body and could have undoubtedly held a myriad of expression, if they hadn't been exuding boredom like mist around a stagnant pool. His tail, with only a single spot halfway up it, was twitching in impatience. He was as svelte as the bear was broad, almost bordering on feminine.

The third member of their group caught my eye for far longer - he was...stunning. He was a wolf with arctic white fur and smoky gray shadows on the tips of his ears. His eyes were a liquid gold with flecks of bronze caught up in the infinite aureate currents. He was about seven feet tall, putting him right between the bear and leopard in terms of height. There wasn't a trace of fat on him anywhere, giving him a hard, cold appearance. I looked at his face and felt a strange tingling up my back as he openly stared at me with his mouth hanging open ever so slightly. I was wondering what about me could cause such a response, when he suddenly whispered something under his breath that just barely escaped my range of hearing. Almost immediately, his face donned a steel mask of hostile indifference. Startled, I looked away.

Our exchange only took a few moments but was long enough to generate an awkward silence. Snapping my head back, I noticed the bear's outstretched paw and friendly smile. I awkwardly put my hand out and tried not to wince as his completely enveloped mine and part of my wrist. I forced the wolf's look out of my mind before I replied.

"M-my name's Aaron," I finally squeaked out, managing a slightly awkward smile that could have possibly been considered quirky under better circumstances.

"Pleased to meet ya; the name's Cain," he replied, a slight Southern drawl becoming noticeable as he began speaking at length. "My associates and I," he continued, indicating himself and the two behind him, "are here as representatives from the ASO." He pulled out a badge to make his point ­ an unnecessary gesture. Why else would three anthros decide to show up in a small Californian suburb? The sun gleamed off of the gold insignia, a hoof print with 5 claw digits around it and 'ASO' written in scripted lettering.

Somewhere in the corner of my mind, I remembered my capacity for speech again. "Pleased to meet you as well, Cain. Is there anything else I can help you with?" I asked, hoping the answer would be no, so I would be able to collect my thoughts and stop the nervous shudder that was the result of the icy glare the wolf was now shooting my way.

_ Liar, you know you want to keep talking to them._

As cool as it would have been to have the chance to talk and get to know the three, I knew their time was important and they had things they probably needed to get done.

"Nope, that should be it. Thanks ki­...Aaron." Cain said as the trio took their leave. I watched them disappear around a corner and let out a shaky breath.

_ So much for a quiet day,_ I thought to myself a little sadly. With those three here, I'll be surprised if anyone can focus on anything other than the giant beast-men walking around.

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"He's a nice kid. Did either of you two get a chance to scan his lucem?" Cain asked.

The wolf barely managed to bring his attention back to the present. Cain sighed as he saw the blank mask melting away to a pained, longing look. Fenrir was, no doubt, thinking of Trent again; especially with that kid, who could blame him?

"There's not much to think; his lucem doesn't have much movement to it and only has a slight difference to the normal color of those who aren't awakened...which could be chalked up to a number of things. Though I guess there is something a bit off-putting about it," the wolf replied measuredly.

The leopard grunted noncommittally. Aaron clearly hadn't made too much of an impression on the big cat.

"Fenrir, be a bit less critical; very few people are ever fully awake and alert at times like this, especially when they are alone with their own thoughts," Cain reminded the wolf.

Fenrir growled lightly. "I wasn't being critical, I was saying what I scanned and that's that. Now bug off."

Cain acquiesced. "Sorry, just try to keep an open mind about this. I know it's your first time back in the field since-"

Fenrir's hackles rose in rage. "Don't you dare say it, Cain! Trent has nothing to do with this situation."

The leopard cleared his throat to get the attention of the other two and pointed to a few cars pulling into the parking lot and a bus unloading students across the street. "This conversation would probably be better had in private," he said. "At any rate, the day is still young, and we haven't even begun scouting. Let's look around. We can include him, seeing as he's already been pinged on the radar. It's just like Fenrir said; his color is a bit off. Let's see if we can find out any other surprises to be had here."

"Well said Jet," Cain agreed. Maybe the feline was paying more attention than he gave him credit for.

They fell into silence as they entered the main office.

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I took my seat for first hour, already hearing the excited chattering of my classmates as the news spread like wildfire. Everyone was eager to hear about the ASO reps and even more so about the prospect of meeting them. It wasn't surprising; everyone had heard of the ASO in one way or another. Every child had dreamed at least once of the day where they might be chosen to join the illusive organization. Adults looked back and silently wished that they had made the cut before returning to their everyday lives.

The ASO, or Anthropomorphic Special Ops, was a government-run outfit for anthros and humans with special talents. That's all the government would say officially. Reports and leaks of psychic powers and the like circulated through the media, though admittedly these were the same "credible" sources that spawned reports of UFO sightings and crop circles. I didn't bother speculating on those kinds of things because they had nothing to do with me, and the slightly reclusive part of me preferred it to stay that way.

Every four years or so, the ASO sent out representatives to every high school in the country to scout for new recruits. They were highly selective in terms of age; anyone chosen, without fail, was between the ages of 14-18. There was some speculation as to why: some said it was because of the mental development that goes on at that stage of life, but no one really knew for sure. I, being 17, had pretty much given up my ASO fantasies, choosing to focus on more realistic life goals.

_ Riiight...and what were those, again, exactly?_

There wasn't anything unique about me. I was a mostly A/B student who ran track more as a hobby than for the spirit of competition, much to the dismay of my coaches. Other than that, the best word to describe me was 'average,' and I was okay with that. I was not someone who particularly enjoyed the spotlight or attention, a good thing considering how often I was overlooked. My looks perfectly reflected my average nature; typical brown hair, short on the sides and only slightly longer on top; white skin that was a shade too light to actually blend into the California scene, and blue/green eyes that changed depending on the light. I was 5'9" and roughly 130 lbs; almost perfectly average.

I was certainly not ASO material, if I had to say so myself. So I just bit the inside of my cheek and hoped to ride out the wave of excitement that was coursing through the school.

"Aaron!" Mr. Baker yelled for what was probably the millionth time, judging by his tone and the throbbing vein on his neck.

I sat up straight in my seat, a little upset with myself that I had let my attention slip. "Yes sir?"

He let out an exasperated sigh. "Just pay attention, if you would be so kind. James, can you please explain the quote on the board?" Mr. Baker grumbled, probably wishing he could go back to the military instead of dealing with this generation's adolescents.

I looked over the quote to catch up with what was happening and smiled inwardly. It was the famous 'I think, therefore I am' quote by Descartes.

James cleared his throat before he spoke. "The quote is a philosophy about self-awareness. Descartes is capable of thought and perception; so therefore, he must exist, while those around him are a mystery, and there is no way to prove whether others are truly there or are just estranged figments of his imagination."

Mr. Baker took a breath to answer but was interrupted by a knock at the classroom door. Naturally, the class took this as an opportunity to talk amongst themselves. I wasn't paying as much attention as I should, considering what I had just gotten in trouble for, but hey I had a lot on my mind. That immediately changed when a sudden and complete cessation of mindless noise fell upon the room like a thick blanket. I shyly turned my head to the source of the disruption and nearly sheared off my tongue with my teeth as a shadow of black fur and gray spots slipped into the room.

_ Seriously? Out of the hundred rooms on the entire campus, one of THREE distractions_ randomly comes to the one I'm in. I don't buy it, I thought to myself, cringing in anticipation of a surge of noise as I heard the near-synchronized inhale of the room; each student in turn thinking of anything and everything to say all at once. Before they got a chance, however, Mr. Baker hushed them with a glare.

To Mr. Baker's credit, he was staying composed remarkably well. He asked the leopard ? Jet, as he introduced himself ? if he needed anything; to which Jet replied he was just there to observe. Mr. Baker turned back to the class and resumed the lesson.

"Very good, James. What are your thoughts on this quote? How does it make you feel, or what does it make you think about?" he asked, back on track.

James looked back to the quote a bit longer, his gaze now shifting nervously between the words on the board, Mr. Baker, and Jet. He licked his lips, took another quick breath, and swallowed hard before he proceeded. "Um, I think the quote is sad. The words depict something like depression. The quote is, in my opinion, very...I don't know. The idea behind it is, for lack of a better word, valid. During that time, and even now, a person's own identity is one of the few things that we can base most situations off of," he stuttered out the end before falling into silence.

_ Poor guy; can't say I blame him, though. It can't be easy having the attention of the entire room on you with such unusual circumstances, and then to be pegged as the first one to speak? Forget it._

A few more people were called on, and they all invariably delivered similar answers, saying how depressed Descartes must have been and how he could only count on his own identity to maintain any semblance of sanity.

_ If only they knew what depression really was, they wouldn't throw the term around so flippantly._

Mr. Baker cut off someone in mid-explanation. "Does anyone have a different opinion on the quote? Anyone at all?" he barked.

I slowly lifted my hand. Put it back down, you know they'll just mock you. Hoping that no one noticed me, I immediately pulled it back down. For a second, it looked like my aborted attempt went unnoticed ­ that is, until a certain spotted feline opened his mouth.

"Mr. Baker, it looks like there is someone in the back row with an answer," Jet said, vaguely looking in my direction.

I shot the leopard a look, mentally pleading for him to say "never mind," as my teacher turned around. Jet just smiled lazily, and surveyed the room, as if I were little more than a mild amusement.

"Well, let's hear it Aaron; what's your take on this quote?" Mr. Baker asked, seemingly in a hurry to get on with the lesson plan.

I tried my best to ignore everyone in the room but the teacher, as the bottom of my stomach fell out. Pretending it was just a casual one-on-one conversation should have been easy, but I had to fight a nauseating bundle of nerves in my stomach, which threatened to engulf me in a wave of stage fright. I clenched my fists hoping to stop the shaking. Gulping past the knot in my throat, I began. "I don't think depression is the driving force behind the quote. I see it as more desperate than anything else; not for a matter of identity, but for companionship. He alone is aware of the authenticity of his existence. He must have known he was not entirely alone, or else he wouldn't exist in the first place. But how could he be sure who else inhabited the same plane as him, and at what moment they might've stopped being people, because of things like death, and became parts of his imagination due to his inability to truly accept how lonely he would be if he were allowed to see just how few people were truly around him? Simply put, I think he was desperate, perhaps on an unconscious level, to prove that he was not alone. There's also the possibility he was only mildly curious as to the state of existence for beings other than himself, and we are all making mountains out of mole hills," I concluded, still focusing on Mr. Baker and attempting to end on a lighter note.

I let out a breath and allowed the room to come back into focus and noticed one or two people looking at me quizzically. I knew it. I shrugged, glad to be done with the awkward moment. Though, talking about this quote just worsened my mood_._

Mr. Baker grunted in approval and began to move on when Jet, still managing to look only semi-interested, murmured, "If I may?"

_ No you may not!_

"? how do you believe ideas like this can possibly relate to modern life?" His yellow eyes simply stared at me, unblinking and expressionless.

I did my best to give him a withering glance, to at least communicate the quality of mental distress he was inflicting, but I'm not sure how effective it was. I didn't care who he was at that point; he must've known on some level how uncomfortable this made me.

I swallowed around the lump in my throat, feeling not too much different than James had. As before, I excluded everyone else from my attention and focused solely on the person I was talking to, supplanting the fear with a mounting irritation.

"Well... Let's use an example of a man stranded on an island. After a while, that man cannot deal with the complete and utter solitude imposed upon him. So, he begins to see or hear things and perhaps befriends the local vegetation in an attempt to ease the loneliness that is slowly eating away at his sanity. Even in domestic situations like a school, there are defensive barriers and delusions we cloak ourselves in to keep loneliness at bay. We associate ourselves with others and create bonds with people, all part of the subconscious need for companionship, whether that companionship is healthy or detrimental, real or fictional." I stopped, cutting of the next string of words before they could escape into the world.

Suddenly, what had previously been one or two stares, was now twenty. But the uneasiness of "spotlight" attention was second only to the dread of what Jet's reaction might be. Mockery was one thing that I couldn't take, and especially in this situation, I would never live it down.

_ Good thing I stopped when I did. There's a bit more to it than that_, I thought_, but I'll keep that to myself for now._

Those feline eyes didn't look so bored anymore, and they narrowed just a bit, as Jet appeared to really focus on me for the first time since he got here. I wasn't sure if I should've been nervous or proud. I felt like prey.

Jet glided up to my desk, leaned down, and with an eerily soft voice close to my ear asked, "Are you holding something back? Go ahead and say it." I could feel his whiskers against my skin, and I shivered.

_ How did he..? Maybe there's more to the whole psychic thing than I thought._

_ *Damn straight!*_

I jumped in my desk, but immediately shook it off. Jet's expression hadn't changed.

_ I must be hearing things._ All that aside, I bit my lip. "Fear," I spat the word out like the poison it was, looking the leopard in the eye, his muzzle just inches from my face. "For some, to be completely and utterly alone is akin to oblivion. To them, being alone is worse than a death sentence. It's a fear so absolute that even the presence of evil is better than no presence at all. It's a fear that kills with a numbing pain."

He smiled sadly and, without another word, returned to stand beside Mr. Baker. The eyes of the class followed him, leaving me unseen and unnoticed once again. I slouched in my seat, the tension leaving me. I sighed, my eyes burning with the unshed tears welling in them, all too aware of how crippling solitude really is, but completely ignorant of how to amend it.

Something caught the light, and I glanced at my desk. Sitting on it was a coin the size of a poker chip, with a hoof print at the center and five claw prints around the top. The message was clear enough, I suppose. I had passed some kind of test, or at least caught someone's attention; even if that someone was an annoying leopard with a penchant for making me uncomfortable.

I blinked away the burn of salt, a tear falling on the coin, unable to hold back the slight smile that touched my lips. I let it linger a bit before quickly wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, composing my expression into the visage of just another bored student.

_ Maybe the solution's easier than I thought._