Sooner Than Previously Thought
The straggler fluffies were shaken to the very core of their beings.
The sights they laid their eyes on defied all that they knew to be real. The power of good and love was material and tangible in their contrived view of the world, however, at that instant in time, the survivors of the culling lacked every facility to process the sickening imagery of their family struck down so suddenly. So callously.
The impersonal character of the deed ate at the creatures, though their minds could not formulate a cohesive understanding as to why. They could not have known that a desire for acceptance from those they were meant to serve was hardwired into their very electronic souls. They could not conceive of malice being done to them from those they loved, LOVED, so purely and innocently. They could not fathom that they, with such emphasis on physical contact and affection, could be ended so swiftly from a distance. All it took was one of those handheld artifacts being pointed in their direction⌠and the monsters in the rubbery suits did not care. The visors over their eyes, gleaming coldly and unliving. In the pits of their terror it became clear to the survivors that these were not nice people.
âW-wun 'way!â A petrified fluffy managed to croak out. Just as quickly as it spoke, there was another flash of pink light, followed by an otherworldly warbling emanating from the weapon responsible. The concentration of energy struck the victim dead-center on its back, causing the fluffy to throw itself to one side and writhe in agony. The heat sizzled its hide, causing it to crackle and pop. The fluffies near to it gagged, and tried and failed to cover their noses to spare themselves from the black smoke billowing out from underneath the fallen member of the herd.
The little thing rasped to its brethren in a show of resilience, âD-donâ be dummehs! Wu-w-nnnn.â The fluffyâs eyes rolled back in their sockets and froth started to bubble up from their mouth, held apart in a silent scream of anguish. The other fluffies, contrary to its wishes, were glued in place by sorrow and fear.
The inexperienced operative took their unmarked photo-caster in both hands to inspect the tool of the trade more critically. In the blocks of instruction and practical firing qualifications, no one ever mentioned anything about⌠all of this. They made it sound so simple and mindless. âIt was just a clean up operation contained by nondisclosureâ. âPoint the laser gun at the toy and move onâ. âThe lasers donât do lasting harm to people, so itâs perfectly safe so long as eye protection is wornâ.
Nothing was said about watching this supposed âtoyâ die in ultra realistic despair and suffering. The person underneath the gear hung their head. They needed the money for school. Once they got their certifications, so many jobs would open up, and the pathways to advance in life would all come clear. After the rumination came rationalization: âitâs just a toy. One that speaks a whole lot of nothingâ.
The words did little to absolve them of the innate guilt they felt as their arm moved, almost on its own, to orient the weapon with killing intent. The antenna-like protrusion at the end of its muzzle was pointed right at the seizuring pony-synth, and then the trigger was pulled. Light. Warble. A slight distortion to the air as the heat radiating off the pencil-thin beam rippled outwards. And then the absence of struggle, which somehow made the Ubermetro bustle louder despite the thick covering of the mask over their ears. A life had been ended.
No. That fluffy was well on its way out. The second shot was a mercy to accelerate the process.
There was no confusing the matter. That strange toy pony had a modicum of life in its tiny body, and it was gone now, at the behest of a literal flick of a switch with minimal feedback. No recoil, only the drone of the laser discharge. So easy. So brainless. Point, shoot, repeat.
âNice one, kid!â The voice of the other squad member was so upbeat with encouragement. How? âI say we leave the rest to you. Really earn your pay-- remember, itâs just like a VirSim game!â The kills in a shooting game didnât usually leave an acrid sludge-smear on the pavement.
âTheyâre just toys,â the regretful member of the cleanup crew responded. Point. Pull. Move on.
An azure-pelted fluffy accented with spots and patches of navy blue had tears staining her cheeks dark. She wanted so badly to be anywhere else but here. 'Pwease take fwuffy âway. Pweasies! Pwetty pweasies! Bestest pweaâ!â
She wanted to close her eyes, but they only grew wider, purple eyes dilating to specks against a backdrop of white, as she law the pink light leap from the tool in the humanâs hand and sear the remaining few fluffies. They screamed and screeched. A voice in the azure fluffyâs head told her she was next if she didnât do something. But what to do!?
The entry hatch was in her periphery. Go back. These were not nice people, they did not love her. Go back. And so the fluffy reared onto her rear hooves, huuâing as she did so, and twisted about to flee back to the storm drain, where it was dark and didnât smell nice, but at least she would be safe again. âAm so sowwy ebyfwuffy! Too scawedy!â
âWe got a runner!â
âCome on newbie, finish it off!â
âItâs running for its life. It doesnât want to die. Thatâs not a toy! Thatâs not a toy!â The thoughts practically manifested as a force on the operativeâs forearm. Unsteadying their aim, making their whole body sway. At last, the laser was lowered and the inexperienced exterminator conceded, âI canât do it. Not even for school⌠I canââ
One of the others shoved past them and promptly brought their weapon up. The fluffyâs running was uncoordinated, desperate and awkward. It was almost at the grate, but it didnât matter. It was easy pickings for the speed of light. As quickly as the trigger was pulled, the fluffy rolled over to one side, shrieking.
âWeggy! Weggy, nu!â Images of the pony whose leg came detached in a melted, deformed ooze, flashed before her eyes. Its expressions of confusion and misery. âNu wan! Pweasies! Nu wan! Fwuffy am begginâ! Donâ noh whaâ did wong buhâ neba do 'gain! Fwuffy â fwuffy pwomise! Nu⌠weggyâŚâ The azure mare was pushing against the abrasive pavement with her remaining functional limbs in a scrambling struggle while watching the degradation of her right forelimb.
Her fur was burning away and the bare skin was coming undone. Connective tissues frayed like worn strings in layer after layer, while blood seeped up from the seams. âWeggy!â The azure mareâs breaths came in shallow pants as the wound grew more and more grievous.
Then, without any forewarning, the foreleg came right off of her body. âNu! Nuuuhuuuhuuu!â The shock was so great, the mare did not realize how close she had made it to the drain. She kept crawling backwards until she tumbled down the receptacle, much to the bewilderment of the exterminators.
âDonât worry yourself too much about that one, newbie! This job is like squishing roaches, or stomping rats. Itâs gross and you donât want to do it at first, but once you get over the hump and do it enough, you stop feeling so bad about the whole thing!â The voice over the comms was so jovial and warm⌠the inexperienced exterminator had a gut feeling that person could not be right in the head.
The azure fluffy opened her eyes again and saw the blanket of dark inside the drain. âFwuff-piwe feew weiwd! Wewe am hewd?â Not a single voice answered her. â⌠Fwends?â Silence. Her breaths caught in her throat and fresh tears began to sting her eyes. âAnyfwuffy? Pw-pweasies! Ansew fwuffy! Fwuffy neeâ â NEEâ â huuuâŚâ
â⌠WeggyâŚ?â she asked meekly. She attempted to move her right foreleg. The stinging pain was maddening. She let out her breathy exclamation. âScreeeeee! Screeeeee!â The torment was too much for her to bear. Without being conscious of it, the fluffy started chirping, pleading into the nothingness for aid and relief. Then she blacked out again.
This happened several more times over the ensuing hours. At last, at the final iteration of the loop, the fluffy said to herself, âWan⌠die.â And the loop twisted itself around into a downwards spiral. The fluffy began the arduous crawl back out to where the monsters with the light-guns were surely waiting on her.
âWan⌠die.â
The distance seemed so much longer than before.
âFwuffy⌠wan⌠die.â
The light at the end of the tunnel was getting closer, though. The pony kept crawling.
âWan⌠die.â
Breathing came difficult. Her heart was pounding in her chest. The final stretch, the upwards slope out of he grate, was the most trying trial the fluffy ever endured in her life. But that was okay, her life did not have long more to go.
âFwuffy⌠wan⌠die.â
The azure mare all but plopped out of the drainage into the daylight. Her dullen eyes scoured the area for the monsters. âWan⌠die,â she mumbled.
There was no one else around her now. The other fluffies were left where the laser smote them. Most were vaguely fluffy-shaped char and congealed black paste. Even if the mare were of sound mind, she would not recognize the remains as her family. She most certainly did not recognize them now, nor did she care. She just wanted to die.
The mare stayed in that one spot for the rest of the day, repeating the same single desire until her voice grew hoarse. Even so, the gravelly statement tore its way out of her throat as the sunlight faded and the neon glow settled in every shade.
Even later in the day, Roddenbury was cruising back to base. The segmented trailer in his tractorâs tow bobbed on its suspension system as the tires ate up the distance on the road. His rig was for all intents and purposes, a locomotive from the bygone era, reborn and put to task. Another dayâs pay well assured and secured. The multicolored signs whizzing by on the usual route seemed almost ecstatic and congratulatory. âYou did it, Rod. Another day down. How do you feel?â
âI dunno, Rod. I might want to go to space and do space-hauling and mining, since thatâs what all the people on the squawk-box keep squawking about. Honestly, I just want to go to bed. Iâve got a long day tomorrow.â
âBut Rod, every day is a long day!â
âTell me about it, dudeâŚâ