Sowell stood up from his chair stretching as he did so. “Corral them into the enclosed area; I’m going to prepare.” He said. Neager nodded and they both walked into the house. The assissant headed into the kitchen to prepare the very best bait for a fluffy.
The old man went into his bedroom, showered and dressed again with no particular hurry. The he opened an adjacent door into his study. He sighed, as he entered. Never thought I’d be taking this so seriously again. He put on a lab coat that hung behind the door. It was emblazoned on his right breast with the Hasbio Laboratories logo and his own name and title beneath it. Dr. Thomas Sowell
He pulled out his reading glasses from a pocket and approached his desk. On the wall just above it hung a portrait of the Hasbio Labs core development team in a semicircle around the first prototype.
Starting with Dr. Carpdime, a gentle but tired woman, on the left. The fluffy breed named after her were some of the most commercially successful. She never seemed to stress out about anything, not even when PETA terrorists held her at gunpoint and eventually killed her when they raided the labs. The loss of her life was only the beginning of the scandals and tragedies that followed.
It continued past Dr. Schaffer-Araks and Wolfram. These fellows always competed over everything. Sowell recalled now, realizing that they seemed to also be competing for the deepest scowls in the photo. Closer to the middle stood himself and Mcgonagall, the project leads. Sowell would have easily been the tallest in the group if not for Mcgonagall. They both had stern expressions, but while that was natural for Sowell, the older woman’s expression was tinged with frustration.
One could easily see why; the “success” before them left much to be desired. The fluffy specimen was a white alicorn and at first glance seemed like a typical fluffy, but on closer inspection the flaws became apparent. The horn was long and it curved at random. One of it’s wings was larger than the other. Most disturbing of all were its eyes. They were looking straight out of the photograph. One was the expected red of the lab strain, but the other was black, wholly black, no white to be seen at all.
That orb seemed to burn holes into the old man’s conscience. He turned away with a shudder to the last member of the team. Jellenheimer. Out of all the brilliant minds gathered there, standing slightly apart and looking away at something off-frame, Jellenheimer smiled. It was an inscrutable smile and more than a little unnerving. Sowell’s thoughts added. After the fire…he just disappeared…along with his own namesake pet projects.
The doctor decided not to dwell on that particular mystery right now. Refocused, he pulled at the frame of the photograph which swung outwards on a hidden hinge. Behind it was a number pad, and after pressing the correct combination, a bookshelf next to him swung open, revealing a short narrow stairs leading down.
At the bottom of the stairs a camera swung to face him. Welcome back Father. a robotic yet feminine voice greeted him. Sowell nodded at the camera and the glass door in front of him opened into the decontamination chamber. After the brief procedure he entered the main lab, where he was greeted more personally.
The fuzzy trotted up to him and stopped just in front of him. The old man picked up the creature and examined it. It still seemed to be in peak health. The fluffy-like creature of pure white mane and clear blue eyes looked up unconcernedly at him. After a minute more of examination, he carefully put her down. “How are you feeling?” The doctor asked. All bodily functions nominal. The fuzzy replied through the speakers on the walls linked to the computer systems which it controlled. Sowell scoffed good-naturedly. “How are you? With your real voice please.”
It seemed uncomfortable at this request, but it complied almost immediately. “Am weww fathah.” The old man chuckled a bit and turned away to examine the rest of the lab. That fuzzy was almost certainly the last of its kind given that their whole species was manufactured without the ability to meet a metabolic requirement unless they were fed Hasbio brand feed. Though the farm above was mostly for amusement, the doctor had engineered a few of the crops with genes to synthesize the necessary proteins to keep the fuzzy alive.
After ensuring that everything was in working order, the doctor approached a bank of monitors which were connected to hidden cameras on the property. He quickly scanned them until he found the pack of fluffies, still munching away. Would you like me to deal with them? The fuzzy offered. Sowell was quiet for a few moments, considering. “In a manner of speaking.” The fuzzy tilted its head, but waited patiently for an elaboration.
“Albedo.”
The fuzzy quietly looked up at its father. Yes? "Id like you to infiltrate this herd and give me the rundown. “Who’s the ‘smarty’, the ‘toughies’ and all the rest.”
Understood. Albedo said turning away to leave.
“Albedo.” Her father called her once again.
She paused and turned her head back at the doctor who’s back was still turned to the monitors. “Do not harm any of them. I will decide who lives and who dies. And when.” He threatened.
“Otay.” She replied quietly continuing on her way.