FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

---

Unimaginably long ago, before the conception of recorded history itself, Nyaesira had preserved the balance of the cycle of life. It was the deity's chief responsibility to ensure that no species would set in motion a chain of events that could culminate in a catastrophic global event; such a disaster would raze the harmony of nature that she had sacrificed so much of her free time to nurture and maintain.

Then, the other deities would mutter jokes behind her back for eons to come. She would not allow that to happen again.

* * *

The dusty alarm clock laid at rest upon a small nightstand in the unlit bedroom, the dimmed emerald digits on its face displaying a time that lingered at 5:59 a.m. The room sheltering it was a significant hazard for one to navigate in darkness, as unorganized piles of clothes, wandering bed sheets, blankets, books and other general possessions were plentiful, and laid in wait to trip anything with legs.

All was still, excluding the lazily-rotating ceiling fan above, and the figure under the covers of the bed below that tossed and turned, churning the waves and wrinkles of the linen that concealed it. The movement quickened as the blanket seemed to reach for the clock and, while a hand-like form quickly probed and surveyed the area near it, a blast of radio static and gangsta rap shattered the silence.

The acoustic burst jolted the figure out of bed, and it caught onto the clock's power cable during its brief descent, yanking the device off the dresser to follow. It bonked the accident victim on the noggin and tumbled to the floor below, landing on its snooze button and bringing the space to a silent aftermath. Following a short period of frustrated wriggling, a svelte squirrel managed to emerge from the tangle of warm, thick cloth into the crisp, cool, early-morning air that circulated throughout her apartment.

The sky outside was the dullest of blue shades, its lighting not yet intense enough to unveil the silhouettes of the furniture and floor clutter. The woman's regularly scheduled rude awakening was followed closely by the faint, soothing hiss of lawn sprinklers outside, as well as the misty, aquatic scent and sensation that they produced. Rising to a stand, Nyaesira took on an energizing stretch, clasping her fingers and reaching for the ceiling, balancing on her fluffy toes.

The screen of a mobile phone on her dresser lit up as she retrieved her dormant electronic adversary from the floor, placed it back in its proper position, and secured its power cable in an outlet. In an effort to enforce her personal campaign against laziness, she decided that she would put her social life on hold until she finished making her bed; that decision was quickly thrown out when she noticed the contact information from the corner of her eye.

It was her boss - her mortal boss - sending her a text to come in to work early again. The message was the same old, with his usual comparison of her productivity to glacial movement and crippled turtles - she'd grant him a few weeks off work with yellow fever or malaria if she didn't find his sense of superiority so darned cute, in a world where mortal fragility could earn one's death in an instant. That, and part of her had a natural aversion to giving the proverbial touch-of-death; not even a jackass deserved to wither away and die miserably in a bed. Usually.

The automatic coffee maker in the kitchen had spread the delightful aroma of her custom blend throughout the apartment, encouraging her to hasten her appeasement text and sit down with a comforting mug of morning uplift. Would it kill that man to show some more respect? A little taste of hardship would enlighten him...

She grumbled numerous negative comments about him as she threw on a mint-green robe over her exposed vanilla fur, and shuffled into the bathroom. If she was quick enough with her morning grooming rituals, she would be able to finish preparing for work and slip out of the apartment before the door-to-door cultists began their first morning route.

Ordinarily, they were just an annoying item on her neglected to-do list - but lately they had grown bolder, searching deeper into matters that no mortal had business concerning themselves with, in an attempt to reveal_"the goddess hiding among us"_. Although it wasn't likely that they would zero in on her guise of a humble telemarketer in any meaningful time frame, it was always a possibility that one of their random, batshit crazy chain-reaction conspiracy theories would land on her true identity.

She ran fingers through her curly blonde locks as she pondered the whereabouts of one young cultist - a moose surely fresh out of his teens - which she had met on her doorstep one day.

The encounter was long before she had begun to avoid the cult altogether; she actually thought them a humorous group at one point. The representative that had visited her differed from the rest in that he stammered in his speech, showed obvious signs of bashfulness, and had hands that just couldn't keep a secure grip on his stack of propagandistic pamphlets. With difficulty, he communicated to her in hushed tones that he was just trying to earn money to progress through his education, and didn't really agree with everything the cult put on the table.

She had considered shutting the door to avoid receiving yet another daily pamphlet, but he then confessed that he had also been recruited partially from peer-pressure, and concern for his own personal safety. By the end of that visit, he had unknowingly won her favor that no other cultist had - simply because she was charmed with how exemplary he was of the classic combination of adorability, youth, and fear. Alas, she had not the time to toy with him that morning, as she had been running late for work.

She had debated with herself the demonstration of a bit of her power while he was in her presence, for the irony of such an insignificant member of the group being the only one to see her unveiled. Perhaps she could find him on an off-day and tempt him to discuss the cult's inner workings, so she could finally dispose of the nuisance permanently - and possibly have a shy new contact to chat with in her spare time.

All just another chore to contend with, she supposed. Her goal for today, however, was simply to break a lead contact follow-through rate of fifteen-plus percent, to establish a better point of leverage for poking the boss about that raise she had been chasing. It was an uphill battle for sure, considering his pouting whenever anyone got paid, but she was certain she could chip away at him with her trying spirit.

The goddess spit out a remaining mouthful of an overpowering alcohol-based mouthwash, its spicy aftereffect lasting long in her mouth.She was thinking...denims and t-shirt; she had granted herself liberty to enjoy her inconspicuous outfits, and they had even grown to be a minor hobby with her. Fortunately, she hadn't found herself in her usual state of indecision, for rays of sunlight encroached upon her bedroom window like a pervert off parole.

She had always chosen a somewhat humble bodily form over her limitless possible alternatives, despite her rank and title being anything but. Such had been her preference for so long, that even the earliest of superstitious mortal life would often depict her in their folklore as the petite form that she rocked even to this day. More sophisticated, relatively contemporary artwork fared better at capturing her prouder details - most notably her large, uniformly kempt, curled tail of golden fur, layered underneath with a mellow shade of marshmallow.

She hastily completed her hygienic procedures and clothed herself, sparing time for one final quality assurance check. Sure enough, the squirrel in the mirror had the aura of determination and perseverance that Nyaesira wanted to see every morning before heading out. All that remained to be done now was enjoy the aromatic brew that patiently awaited her company - it never had to lure her twice.

She made her way to the kitchen, managing to avoid tripping on her belongings or bumping into the many potted plants of assorted sizes that rested on the floor, or hung from the ceiling. A decorative birdhouse clock's hands warned her against getting too intimate with her cup o' joe. "Oh, what do you know, anyway? You're not in line for a raise!" Her internal comments of lunacy were usually the byproduct of her frequent bouts of euphoria, and her personification of inanimate objects arguably originated from her affinity for plants, which in her eyes were beings too, although immobile.

Armed with an ornamental mug hidden behind her back, she nonchalantly approached the chrome coffee maker, which quickly became cornered. Slowly, she placed the mug on the counter next to it, as a mafia member would do with a gun at a negotiation.

"I trust that you know what I'm here for, little one."

The digital display on the machine flashed 12:00 nervously, as Nyaesira calmly traced a fingerpad around the rim of the empty mug.

"I've given you the resources you need to produce only the best, and thus I expect nothing less; let's get started, shall we?"

The display flashed 12:00 for mercy, as the goddess gripped the handle of the pot and separated it from its base, craning it into position near the mug. "Don't you worry, I'm sure we'll both enjoy this..."

She carefully tilted the reservoir, pouring the moderately hot beverage into the ceramic cup, as the appliance's agonized blinking of 12:00 echoed silently through the kitchen. "Don't be this way, you should feel privileged to have such a responsibility. You do like providing for me, don't you?" she asked sweetly.

The appliance could only blink 12:00 in defeat, as its mistress returned the coffee container to its original position. "How generous of you..." she cooed softly, as she raised the unsweetened liquid to her eager lips. Before she could indulge in that coveted first sip, a few knocks resounded weakly from her front door. She paused, hoping the noise was simply her imagination running wild without coffee to whip it back into submission.

Unfortunately, the knock was confirmed to exist when she heard an elderly voice command, "Knock louder, boy!" The second rap on her door was less halfhearted than before, but still hesitant. Nyaesira set her mug down and glared at the coffee maker, mouthing "This isn't over yet", before moving to meet those who would dare to interrupt her special private moments.

Looking through the peephole on her door, she saw two visitors dressed in familiar, deep-purple robing: a short, raggedy, grayed ferret and, to her surprise and delight, a returning, tall, moose lad. She hastily unlocked half a dozen chains and latches, as she anticipated whatever nonsense they were pushing on the menu that day - she could use a good laugh, but the boy was more her primary motivation.

She swung the door open to an undistorted view of the two, who quickly turned their attention from each other to her. What followed was an awkward silence accentuated by distant bird chirping, as she expected them to speak, as they did of her.

"Sooo...watcha got for me, boys? Gifts, I hope!"

The ferret glared at his partner briefly before addressing her. "My apologies ma'am, this one freezes up often." He nudged the moose with an elbow, and continued. "I am Lester, and this is my apprentice, Harold. We're currently running an awareness campaign for the possible presence of higher beings in our community, or objects imbued with latent power produced by such beings. So sayeth in the subsections of Yilclupt fourth chapter, the manifestation of of all foul deed layeth within the influence of higher consciousness among humble folk who know not their place within celestial society. Only through extensive repentance, can one seek to embark on the road of spiritual recovery, and..."

As he rambled on, Nyaesira took to leaning against her doorway, arms crossed. She looked up to Harold, who quickly reacted by averting his attention to something else, like the suddenly interesting pebbles that lay unmoving near the welcome mat. He was quite tall for his age, as both Nyaesira and Lester only stood up to nearly halfway on his naturally muscular chest. His kind had developed well, she noted gladly.

"...for come vengeant dawn, the heralds of past awakening will sweep throughout our very concepts of life, well-being, and lore...and the ascension of those who have sacrificed will once again be at hand!" The preacher remained in his dramatic finishing pose, palms held high above his head and eyes pointed upward to the sky. The awkward silence befell the three once again, as Harold risked another glance at Nyaesira - for a moment, the strange twitches on her face gave him the impression that she was getting ready to cry. His assumption was short-lived, however, as she burst into a hysterical fit of laughter shortly afterward. Her disruption of the silence startled the two, causing Lester to bring his gaze back down to the squirrel, who was nearly on the verge of tears.

Her words had fought through some remaining giggles on their way from her mouth. "I-I'm sorry...I just..." She rubbed a hand down her face to help suppress her grin, but the motion was quite ineffective at doing so. "Look, I think you and your group should pursue something a little more productive, like knitting. You guys would probably like it more than walking the neighborhood in purple dresses...just a bit of thought there."

She sauntered past the now silent pair, running a quick prosperity check on the diverse garden that dominated the area along her walkway, before turning back and placing an arm over the short one's shoulders, and another around the tall one's waist. Leaning onto them, her tone of voice shifted halfway from joy to annoyance. "Wouldn't you agree, boys?"

Harold wasn't sure if she had forgotten what he had told her during his previous solo visit, but didn't want her to think he was advocating this agenda any more than he was before. To help straighten things out, he finally pushed himself to speak. "Er, well...sorry to bother you, ma'am...today..." Though he had fumbled with his word order, he pressed onward. "If you would just accept this pamphlet, then we could be on our m-merry way..." He tried a smile, but it was so manufactured that he would have been better off without it.

Nyaesira only studied his facial expression, her eyes squinted and mouth puckered in thought, as he tried to offer her a folded paper from a stack. "Hm. I still remember your last visit, little man, but what was it you were telling me back then? Something abooout..." The moose froze solid. Another cult member was present this time, and wouldn't be too happy to hear about Harold's confession of infidelity, especially when it was behind the cult's back while on duty.

His fake smile vanished, and an undoubtedly discomforted expression replaced it with mere moments in-between, as he had no option but to plead silently that she keep his secret between the two of them. The hostess' head cocked to one side as she observed his swift change of emotion. "...a_reckoning_, or something like that. I don't recall, exactly. Strange."

Harold relaxed somewhat, as relief dispelled the tension that had constricted him - she had to be messing with him, surely he wasn't that much of an open book? Either way, his haunch would remain raw, thankfully. "Oh...yeah, just...want to make sure that you keep an eye out for anything you think we should know about..." She gave him a hearty pat on his hardy back as she withdrew arms from the two and addressed Lester.

"What about you, guy?"

"Well, there isn't much left to cover that isn't in the pamphlet. I encourage you to familiarize yourself with it; everyone doing their part would be a great boon for our society. Also - we'll be hosting our first public seminar this weekend that will offer more extensive coverage on the subject matter, so you're obviously highly encouraged to attend that as well. Details inside." He began to outstretch an arm to offer the papers, but Harold quickly did it first.

"Here you are, ma'am. And don't forget to check out page two, I think it's very much worth going over..." Lester slowly retracted his own offering, surprised by his partner's sudden activity. The boy could be a bit erratic at the strangest moments, but Lester supposed it was simply something they'd have to work on over time; the discipline and lessons would certainly get through to him eventually.

"Alright, boys, bring it in." The two leaned in closer at her request, and she threw her arms around them once again, yanking them inward to her with an unprecedented strength from a being of her size. "Remember: knitting." The two staggered upon release , as she grabbed Harold's informational paper.

"I shouldn't dare to look at a clock now, because I think you boys have made me late...and I didn't even get my coffee! I'm afraid I'll have to cut this short - but hey, thanks for the stuff, I'll give it a look." She hastily retreated into her abode and shut the door, leaving no opportunity for rebuttals to surface, then began efforts to recover from her unscheduled interruption.

Tossing the pamphlet on a nearby table, she approached the now cold coffee - it was still better than nothing, she reasoned with herself. The birdhouse clock ticked patiently as though saying "Told you so", while the display on the coffee pot flashed 12:00 in a "Take that, bitch" manner. What she wasn't aware of, however, was the message hastily scribbled in small, inconspicuous handwriting on the second page of the informational paper.

"Need to meet, ASAP"

* * *

The burly polar bear, clothed in a deep-blue dress shirt and black slacks, rotated the unlit cigarette that dangled lazily from his lips, as he gave brief look-overs to the unorganized papers shuffled on the great mahogany desk before him. Some documents would receive extended attention, while others were only cast aside without a first trial. The man released a low-key grunt, as he reclined in his oversized, dark-leathered executive chair that groaned under load as he studied a page of interest.

"...These don't fully inspire confidence in me, Nyra. The stats aren't bad, don't get me wrong, but this level of performance is currently being rivaled by at least four or five other reps out there on the floor right now. I'll just need more time to see how things develop before I make final judgment on any pay increases..." The squirrel sitting on a foldy chair at the opposite side of the expansive, grained surface-top only nodded slowly, eyes lowered to the desk.

"Oh...I see. Well, I appreciate you sparing the time to check my case, Mr. Mokoa." Her positive attitude had faltered, and it was evident in her voice. "Competition breeds productivity, though, right? I can see the lesser-known benefits of having strong coworkers..!" She finished with a half-mouthed smile, hoping that a display of positivity in the face of rejection would earn her some credit toward her next push for the raise. Showing up on time could help too, she contemplated remorsefully.

The boss placed the paper back on the desktop with the rest, and slowly rose to a stand, his mass lingering in the cushions of his chair. "That's the spirit. Thanks for droppin' in, hun, but lunch is almost over and I need to step outside." He extended a large, black-padded hand across the desk to her, and she followed his action with her own. They met for a handshake, and the bear's engulfing grip rattled her whole arm - and much of her body with it. She then reciprocated and did the same with him, rather aggressively.

"Whoa, strong arm on you, lil' lady! Maybe you could pitch for my nephew's little league games someday! But hey, I joke. You finish up your break period and get out there and hit those contacts hard!" He released her hand and passed around his desk, as he drew a lighter from his breast pocket and exited the room, both hands used to steady and light the cigarette in his muzzle.

Nyaesira stood in quiet disappointment after her latest failed attempt at advancement, releasing a short huff as she began to turn and make her way out as well. She paused abruptly when curiosity struck her; never had Mr. Mokoa discussed with her in detail the information inscribed on those, apparently, administrative performance papers. Were they just printed records of the employee information that was on file in the database? If so, then she figured there would be no harm in taking a small peek to see how she stacked up overall. She leaned on her arms over the desktop to get a closer look, as her attention was captured by a strange, intricate emblem that decorated what looked like a detached cover page. She didn't have the opportunity study it for long, as a presence behind her made itself known.

"Hey Nyra, you should've eaten out with us! Someone's been stealing lunches from the freakin' break room again..."

Nyaesira whirled to face the direction from which her half-assed alias had been spoken. As she had guessed, the low, robust voice originated from the solid-bodied white tiger that stood in the doorway, clutching a lidded soft-drink cup. He wore his signature black dress pants, into which was tucked a flawless white dress shirt, sleeves folded up neatly to the same level as the small, silver clip attached halfway up his blood-red necktie. As unassuming as his attire was, it still managed to radiate from him a cool air of confidence wherever he traveled.

"Oh- was I interrupting something?" He smirked; he already had a strong idea of what went down in the minutes prior to the boss's departure. "No luck, this time, eh? Keep at it, he has_had some famous change-of-heart moments, I can tell you that one from experience. You just need to elevate your persuasive strategy, for one. Don't be afraid to get a little..._assertive; A big guy like him has a good bit of inertia."

Nyra peeked at the sturdy, black-striped arms that extended from his muscle-tightened sleeves, before bringing her eyes up to level with his. "Appreciate it, Cal, but it just doesn't feel like Mokoa wants to budge anytime soon. Says I'm on par with some other potential candidates, but you already know how hard I've worked out there! He also said he'll 'let things develop' first, for what that's worth; it's not a blunt refusal, so there might still be hope for my wandering little raise." A genuine smile formed on her muzzle following the quick recovery of her normal, cheery demeanor.

"Ah. The good ol' 'wait and see'. Yeah, if you want that treasure, then you still have a bit of digging to do, unfortunately." He sipped a blue liquid through his cup's transparent straw as the petite squirrel approached. "Don't feel like you'd be a bother if you asked me for help, Nyra. I won't tolerate that!" He mirrored her smile as she stopped right before him. "Just wanted to make sure you knew..." he stated softly.

She poked at his built chest with a finger. "Calvin Scott, if it's money you're trying to borrow from me, then I'm afraid I don't have any to spare", she joked. "But thank you, it's always such a treat to see someone so willing to help others. I'll try to keep you nearby in the coming days, and maybe...compensate you for your time." She gave him a playful push as she continued to the exit.

"Heh." He withdrew his free hand from a pocket to check his silver watch. "Yeah, we'd better get back to it before we end up meeting like this again." The tiger spared a final glance at the room before following his coworker out, leaving the documents on the desk to a silent peace.

* * *

Nyra removed her headset and massaged a sore ear, leaning back in her chair to peer down the busy isle of cubicles. The sales floor was the daily hustle and bustle of coworkers coming, going, making and taking calls, or chatting with their neighbors. She didn't find the frantic ambiance off-putting, since she enjoyed seeing a high level of mortal activity at the various forms of their gatherings - it allowed for both convenient tourism of the latest social phenomena, and a sampling of the assorted opinions regarding such phenomena, should she find herself engaged with a vibrant conversationalist.

The third-party vendor she worked for, Astrocentric Distribution Co., sold an unusually wide range of products and services including business cards, customized pencils and pens, internet access subscription plans, kitchen appliances and dinnerware sets, and even life insurance. Additionally, the company raised trained experts to provide various tiers of technical support over the phone, and dispatch technicians to houses for installation and maintenance when appropriate.

Nyra's department was responsible primarily for outbound calls that solicited the completion of post-sale product surveys. The campaign was better than her previous role of selling chainsaws and heavy-duty lawn care equipment, but not by much, if she were asked. In a few strange scenarios during her time in the garden care department, she had suspected that she was selling to a murderer the tools of slaughter; probing about it over the phone, however, would have been an unwise decision, given the boss's intolerant attitude toward acts of misconduct. Either way, she eventually grew weary of helping people with their mindless massacre of plant life for the sake of "yard tidiness".

Her judgment warned her against enjoying too long of an unscheduled respite, and given her recent rejection, she was motivated to heed it. As she turned back to her monitor to continue grinding the shift, a tap on her left shoulder requested her attention. She slowly turned a death-glare to its source from the corner of her eye, a vague idea in mind of what her goofball neighbor wanted. It was Silas, a black cat with a little too much time on his hands, despite being behind on his tasks more often than not.

"Nyra! I- hey, I thought you said you wouldn't look at me like that anymore! You pinkie swore!" He swiveled his chair away to avoid contact with her evil stare, and continued anyway. "So yeah, get this: I've finally decided to step my game up. I'll be joining you on that quest for a bonus!"

Nyra's vicious gaze faded almost immediately when she loosed a short huff of laughter. "Seriously? Silas, your shirt is inside out...I think you have more important things to worry about before you can begin to advance around here." She reached over and flicked the tag that stuck out from the collar of his black shirt.

"Oh. Well, you let me walk around like this all day, so maybe it says something your attentiveness. I think that may have been a factor in your talk with Mr. Mokoa, earlier." With arms crossed, he stuck out his tongue. "I'll let you know when I'm called in for the extra pay!" He retreated to the safety of his unorganized cubicle before she could have a chance at wrapping her fingers around his furry neck. She patiently awaited the day when she would catch him alone in a dark corridor, a cold butter knife hidden on her person; it would be glorious. For now, though, it was time to shake off those fantasies, as her dials-per-hour were dropping while she entertained the cat's tomfoolery.

She placed the cheap headset over her ears and refreshed the contact list to prevent an idle logout. Much to her chagrin, she found that she had already been kicked off the server for inactivity, and attempted to sign in again to close the ever-increasing gap between her and the productivity goal. Deft keystrokes filled in the blanks with her credentials, and she reclined in her chair after a tap of the enter key. The page hung, loading indicator frozen in time and space, while the squirrel drummed fingerpads impatiently upon the desk's surface.

A short minute or two elapsed before Nyra gave up, and resolved to escalate the issue to management. Leave it to a subpar software network to get her blamed for poor productivity... Standing up and peeking over the walls of nine-to-five oppression, she searched for a floor supervisor. Apparently her luck wasn't completely shot, as a member of the internal tech support crew was conveniently out and about on the sales floor at the time. She flagged him down when he looked in her direction.

Skipping all introductions upon his arrival, Nyra went straight to the subject before the scraggly goat's inquiry could emerge. "Dean, my login stopped working. Please tell me it's not just me..." Falling short on a stat sheet wasn't her first idea for building rapport with a boss that craved efficient work output from his subordinates; any hiccups would only steepen the lofty uphill hike set before her, but she had already learned that quite well.

The goat slipped a hand under his navy blue ballcap to scratch at the scalp buried deep underneath his greasy mop of granite-gray fur. "Well, shoot...you it's the right password you put in? Maybe they fired ya!" He broke down into a fit of giddish laughter, clapping a hand on Nyra's shoulder and giving it a shake. She certainly didn't join in on his fun, but the stifled giggling that drifted from a nearby cubicle told her that he wasn't laughing alone. "Oh, have some fun, girl. You know it helps pass the time! Gimme a sec to go reset yer stuff." He set off to a nearby supervisor's station, where progress was monitored and administrative tasks were carried out on the sales floor.

As he worked, Nyra propped her chin in a palm - while the imperfections of mortals and their creations were a necessary malfunction in life, they could induce weariness in her on days. She harbored no hatred toward the beings she allowed to exist within her domain, but in the worst of scenarios those imperfections led to misguided dreams and goals by corrupt mortals in positions of power, resulting in the unnecessary and tragic loss of life.

Oh, how she had pondered the long-term consequences of divine intervention in mankind's mass conflicts. Peace brought about by the fear of overwhelming retaliation would only fare well on its surface; in actuality, it would not be much better than the mortal tyrants that it would suppress. Such an intrusive external hand in the cycle of life would generate a great and unacceptable impurity, as mortals' actions and history were destined to shape and better their future generations.

That wasn't to say that nature had never demonstrated its remorseless wrath: plague, famine, drought, and a grim variety of brutal natural disasters have claimed countless lives and homes indirectly by Nyaesira's hand. Although she didn't fully take pleasure in raising turmoil, she had established that a scale required weight in both pans in order to achieve a balance. As a primary embodiment of this phenomenon, she had another side - a somber, dormant Nyaesira that lurked within, finding fascination in the plight of luckless creatures across nature. Special attention was often allotted to sentient beings, which could produce more varied, colorful, reactions to adversity...

"Nyra? Did the reset work, or what?"

She snapped back to reality, looking over her shoulder to the voice's source. Dean returned a quizzical expression from behind, looking from her to the monitor and back as he awaited the results of his effort. "You were drifting there fer a sec. You wanna try that login, now...?" He patiently leaned on the cubicle's divider wall, and observed.

Nyra silently complied, tapping away at the keyboard with strokes less fervent than usual, before hitting the enter key once more to initiate the login. After the screen refreshed, the site directed her to the agent support page as intended, resulting in a cheerful pat on her shoulder.

"Alright, Nyra. Get at 'em! I'll take another look at the system later to see if there's anything we can iron out over in I.T. Happy huntin', girl." The goat crudely tucked his plaid, bronze button-up back into his jeans - it was time for him to slither back to the solitude of the tech cave from which he had emerged.

Nyra sat motionless in the following moments, but shortly thereafter dragged herself back to work. The ability to adapt was among the most important in nature, and she knew better than to think it an easy quality to exercise. Still, she found herself rolling and dodging more often than she cared for lately, but as long as the return seemed worthwhile, she would keep at it.

Pay was being clocked without regard to her mood, and thus she still owed work hours to her employer. The next customer on her contact list, Thomas McNealy, had purchased quite a few appliances in a set, no doubt to complete the kitchen in a recently acquired residence. A brow raised at the sight of a utensil warmer on his purchase history; Nyra often had mixed results in her conversations with the upper-class demographic - those results were usually the norm for most subcultures, as people would say all kinds of shit over the phone.

She browsed his account while the dialer rang his number, her survey script at the ready. With a fingerpad at rest on the call-release button, she prepared to mark the call as an answering machine when an elderly, deep voice spoke slowly.

"Hello, Tom speaking."

Nyra's ears perked at the greeting. "Well hello Mr. McNealy, this is Nyra with Astrocentric Distribution! Just giving you a courtesy call today about the products you've purchased from us recently. How are you doing?"

"Hm, good...yourself?"

"I'm doing fantastic, thank you for asking! If now would be a convenient time for you, I do have a brief questionnaire that will help us gauge the performance of our partners' goods, and let them know of any potential areas of improvement. Have you a moment?"

"Sure."

"Excellent! So, I see you're the, hopefully proud, owner of a Scyclone 15 Horsepower Shredder-Blender X6, yes?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"Ah, good choice in kitchenware. I've seen it in action; that sucker can maul. Any smoothie made within it is said to draw straight from the spirit and power of the machine itself, passing that vigor and ferocity unto you. A beautiful harmony between man and machine, in my humble opinion!"

"Indeed."

"So, Mr. McNealy, what forms of nourishment have you tried to blend with the Syclone? How well did it fare at aiding you in your culinary quests?"

"..."

"Mr. McNealy?"

"Hm? Oh. Sorry, young lady, my pills are kickin' in. What were you saying about this 'warranty'?"

"Oh no, sir, this isn't about the warranty. I was calling to inquire about the machine's performance!"

"Oh...mmm...tried to juice some carrots, but I guess I didn't place the lid on beforehand. Imagine carrot...all over my ceiling!" His chuckle reverberated over the phone. "Had to get the maid to clean it, too."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that! Remember to use its specially designed Iron-Grip locking mechanism to ward against future accidents!"

"..."

"Mr. McNealy, are you there?"

Somewhere in the background, she heard the rattle of a pill bottle rolling off a surface onto the floor, while snoring began to rumble across the phone. Nyra hung her head in defeat, and recited the mandatory courtesy close verbatim script from memory, despite her slumbering audience member.

After releasing the call she prepared to engage the next contact, when a second volley of snorts and slurps reached her ears. This snooze set, however, was of a different pitch, and floated from a neighboring station. She knew who it was simply from experience; if she were quiet enough during her calls, then she would be able to finish the shift in relative peace. Silas was surely incapable of keeping up with his new, self-imposed goal of attaining the productivity bonus, but Nyra supposed that she could take advantage of this opportunity anyway by padding her stats against his ever-worsening record.

With that in mind, she took another short moment to lie back in her chair, a more relaxed position to help gather her mind and grant a temporary escape from the job. She was just about ready to call it, and shift to a lower gear of effort for the remaining duration of her work day. No one could deny the effort she so often put forth, excluding the occasional stubborn polar bear, but one would never overhear her praising her employment position, either.

* * * (To be continued) * * *