The suit sighed as he emerged from the limo. He had joined Hasbio before fluffies had invaded existence, and he fucking hated them. He wanted to brainstorm toy robots, water guns, good stuff from his childhood. But now he had to spend his life analyzing the appeal of rat-sized horses that look like they were made in a lab by Germans. The money was good, though. He made his way to the entrance of the workshop and knocked. He was answered by a ginger woman, late twenties, dark purple sweater and black jeans. She looked about as withered in the soul as he was.
âYounger than I thought youâd be,â he remarked.
âThe good genetic scientists with experience are curing diseases, not customizing shitrats. come in,â she said in a monotone, tired voice.
The workshop seemed to double as a makeshift place of residence, with clothes dotting the floor and anime posters about the walls. He raised an eyebrow at one of the clothes on the floor, a maid outfit.
âWhat is-â he began.
âHad my dom over last night, hurry please.â
He let out a half-gasp of surprise, âstandoffishâ was an understatement. No matter, he wanted results and no bullshit, not professionalism. She stopped at an open room. It was an office with very sturdy crates stacked at a wall. Hasbio-brand fluffy crates, he knew them well. Made specifically for handlers who didnât want to deal with the noise the things made. Soundproofed so that only a very upset fluffy would be heard from inside. The woman had further altered them, he noticed. Sheâd replaced the clear glass on them with heavily tinted glass, he couldnât see the ones inside, and they likely couldnât see him.
âI donât know why this couldnât be a phone call,â the woman remarked, âbut hereâs my report on Project CM. Itâs shit.â
âTheyâll want elaboration,â said the suit. He wanted to get this over with as much as she did, but rules were rules.
She huffed, âFine. Giving fluffies cutie marks was easy. Giving them cutie marks kids would like is, in my opinion, impossible.â
âWhy so?â
âI doubt you watch the show, you know, My Little Pony, but in it, cutie marks appear on a pony when they discover their life purpose. An artist pony will have a paintbrush, a florist would have a flower. You canât genetically program that. I can give fluffy DNA countless cutie mark options to choose from, but them living up to the one they develop is very unlikely.â
The suit thought for a moment, âFluffies are dumb, no? Could you not make the marks cover a generalized area of natural fluffy behavior?â
The woman rolled her eyes, âMaybe a demonstration would help my point. For a personal project, I made a fluffy version of Pinkie Pie, sheâs my favorite, see. Sheâs this hyper, energetic party animal. Her cutie mark is three balloons. But-â
She took an empty yellow balloon from inside her desk drawer and blew it up with her mouth. She hid it in a cupboard and turned to one of the crates, opening it and taking out none other than a fluffy clone of Pinkie Pie. The woman set her down on the desk.
âHello, Pinkie,â she said coldly.
The little thing was hunched down, visibly nervous, trying to make herself small. She was at the halfpoint between filly and mare, and a runt at that. She looked around the room and timidly responded, âH-HewwoâŚmaâamâŚâ
The title was unnatural to her, clearly a taught response.
The suit sighed, âA shy one. Not character-accurate, I assume.â
In response, the woman simply took the balloon from the cupboard, at which the fluffy shrieked and went crazy, scrambling about and falling from the desk, further sobbing at the subsequent pain. The woman roughly grabbed her little body and tossed her into the crate, slamming it shut, muffled âhuu huuâ's coming from within.
The woman put her hands on her hips, satisfied sheâd made her point, âA shy one with globophobia. And thatâs not even mentioning the other characters. Pinkie is easy, tons of fluffies like parties. Rarity? There are fluffy fashion shows. But Fluttershy? Good luck getting one to like animals.â
The suit groaned, âA bust, then?â
âYep. I made 40 fluffies with cutie marks, 2 of them live up to them. Iâve got a colt with a paintbrush that likes drawing and a filly with a musical note that likes singing.â
âHmmm,â the suit muttered, âCanât win em all I suppose. I want those two, incinerate the rest,â he concluded, knowing full well by the womanâs subtle grin that the creaturesâ deaths would not be anywhere near that quick.
âGladly. But why do you want them? I thought you hated fluffies.â
âI do, but my kid doesnât. If I have to deal with Hasbioâs bullshit, the least they could do is give my daughter two free fluffies with accurate cutie marks.â