Mr. Adams’ Guide to Practical Fluffs - Part 10 – The Beginning (of fluffies)
by Oculus
Featuring art by Mixermike622, Carpdime, and Art-Anon
You remember that, when you were a young lad, you wanted a pet fluffy. You cannot remember what encouraged the desire in your mind, if it was the storybooks written by the scientist known as Squeakyfriend, or the My Little Fluffy cartoon. What you do remember was being ecstatic when your parents brought you to a huge building. The building was of a bizarre shape, as it was arched in such a way that it was a helix. This building rested on its twin that was curved in a similar manner, with both buildings combining to mimic the look of the double helix of human DNA from afar. You remember being at the basement of one of these buildings, and it was there that there was a store, filled with fluffies. The Carpdimes were cute, but you really wanted to get yourself a Buwwito, which you did.
In time, you came to learn that the mart where you bought your fluffy was at the first floor of Hasbio Incorporated. As you got older, the topic of fluffy rights became a big issue, as fluffies were eventually deemed as animals, and thus, were deserving of rights. Numerous scandals came to light of various malpractices within Hasbio, and many had predicted that the company was going to fall, sooner or later. But you never forgot that building, as it was the place where you bought your beloved Buwwito.
But in the place of where that Hasbio Headquarters was, there is now only a crater.
“It was like, like, lightning. One moment, the building was there, and the next, it was just, gone.”
The eyewitness was a fat man wearing cut jeans and a T-shirt with the words “BBQ, Beer and Fluffies” emblazoned on it. In his right hand, he was holding a beer can, and in his left, a leash, tied to a loyal Waggytail fluffy, his tongue sticking out while panting excitedly. The man had been walking his fluffy when he bore witness to the incident.
“You didn’t see anything approach the building?”
“Like I said man. One moment it was there, and next it was just, gone. Like as though it never existed.”
The audio cuts off, as the voice of the female reporter returns over stock footage of an office building. A seal with a bald eagle on it can be seen on its front, along with the designation of the building as the location for the United States Patent and Trademark Office.
“In addition to the complete vanishing of the building, all traces and remnants of Hasbio’s work had been deleted, even from the Patent office,” states the reporter, as her voice is then passed on to an executive at the Patent Office.
“Whoever did it was very thorough. All the blueprints, all the patents for various fluffy breeds held by Hasbio themselves, gone. There was no break-in or forced entry, and our security picked up nothing.”
“In the meantime, the only remaining fluffy breeds that can be purchased now are the independent breeds produced on regulated mills. A representative from Carpdime Farms and Muffin Co. have stated that they have not reported any break-in and will try their best to meet the demands of fluffy enthusiasts.”
~
You love fluffies.
But for the first time in your life, you fear the very real possibility that they may end up disappearing.
As you sit speechless in the hospital bed, Sam laments, “I had been aware of his past attacks on other universes, but never to this level.”
You turn to Sam, as you ask, “If he can do something like this, why hasn’t he done it before?”
“I think, just to pull off this level of erasure required a tremendous logistics and foreplanning. He may have access to what we call the impractical breeds, but over-utilizing them or mistreating them brings its own set of problems. I think you yourself know this.”
You grimly nod. The events of that day with the Fluffsplosion, Fillialcacophony and InkiepIe breeds are still fresh in your mind.
“How bad is it?”
“Most of the breeds I introduced to you in the past year seem to be safe so far. The fluffy shelter with the Coalhearts is safe. But almost every other breed is gone. Vanished. It may take forever to track down every remaining breed that he removed.”
As you stare at the screen, flabbergasted at the incredulity of the situation, you blankly ask the biggest question.
“Why did he even do this?”
“That’s what I’m wondering. Did he mention anything to you, when you saw him last time?”
There was that one line from Hasbio Sam that he said to you, that you repeat, this time for the ‘real’ Sam.
“He’s terrified of them. He said that they’re not supposed to be developing superpowers. But I find that ludicrous, given that he has a Fillialcacophony fluffy.”
Sam ponders for a moment, reaching the only possible conclusion. “Something must have happened in his universe. Before, the most he would do was disrupt Hasbio’s work in another universe. But to abduct entire breeds, I think, something from ‘our’ side must have posed an existential threat to ‘his’ universe. And the only way he could preserve the existence of his reality was to severely affect ours.”
Remembering what the Sam from the topsy-turvy world told you, you ventured a guess.
“It’s me.”
“Don’t be preposterous” Sam scoffs, “you only visited his world once. And I think he only recently was aware of your capabilities.”
As Sam says that word, your own suspicion had been confirmed.
“So, you also know I got a superpower?”
“Laddie, that’s what I’m wondering. I’ve used that door a lot more then you have, and I’ve seen other people used the door. But none of them have developed powers the way you have.
I don’t fully understand it either. And neither does he.”
“In that case,” you ponder loudly, “What is to prevent him from trying to attempt another attack like this right now?”
“I don’t know man, I just don’t know. I mean, I still have ABAP, and there is the Fluffy Defence League. We both have impractical breeds and other physics-defying fluffies that can counter many measures my evil twin has.
But I don’t know if we can take on a threat like that.”
Sam buries his face into his palms, visibly frustrated. Feeling his frustration, you too let out a sigh. A silence permeates in the room, before Sam raises his head up to ask you a question.
“How are you feeling at the moment, laddie?”
“I don’t feel hurt exactly.”
“Then we need to make a move. You’re no longer safe in your old home.”
~
A week passed. The arrangements did not take long, and personnel from a security company licensed by Samuel Adams was able to secure all your belongings from your apartment. In addition, you have told your family that you were going to take a very long trip. There was a lot more to discuss with Sam, but that would be saved for another time.
The night before, however, Sam received a tipoff from his friend, Captain Marlin, also known as Johann. You remember that name from the time you were introduced to the AIDS breed, and you met an alternate version of him. According to Sam, he received a tipoff about a crucial discovery made by the Fluffy Defence League.
As Sam’s car speeds along the highway, a question creeps up on your mind.
“What are we going to see today?”
Sam, with unerring focus, looks straight ahead. As you see the sunlight glisten from his shades, he asks you, “Tell me, what do you think fluffies are?”
“They are supposed to be genetically engineered horses, aren’t they? I mean, they are called fluffy ponies.”
“True. But that doesn’t explain the fluffalo does it? Or the cottonfluffies?”
“Yes but we don’t have cottonfluffies. Nor do we have elemental fluffies.”
“No, we don’t. But what we do have are fluffies that can break the laws of physics. Just not to the level of the elemental fluffies. It is unusual, and I think a lot of it has to do with how fluffies are conceived in a universe.”
Sam then asks, “Have you ever heard of the ancient aliens argument?”
Wondering the relevance of the question, you answer, “Somewhat. A bit of a crackpot theory, the idea that an ancient alien civilization influenced early man, based on the idea that ancient monuments like the pyramids could not have been built without sophisticated tools.”
“I have a theory as to how fluffies may be created in a universe. In one model, and I’ve encountered a few times, they are product of normal genetic engineering. Some person, who has a dream of making a cartoon character ‘come to life’, works on genetic engineering to recreate a cartoon character from their imagination into reality. But, that’s one approach and we don’t usually interact with those universes.”
As Sam says this, you can see that the car is now travelling on a road that is adjacent to a long stretch of beach.
“You say theory. Wasn’t that how they were made in ‘this’ universe?” you object.
“That sounds terrible.”
“It is, but I’ve seen it once before. Alternatively, when they encounter a civilization of talking equines, what they may do instead is try to replicate what they see. It is like that movie, Species, where scientists received data about Alien DNA from afar, and the scientists attempt to recreate a form of the alien at home.”
“Why would anyone ever want to do that?”
“Why would anyone want to make Jurassic Park? And if that’s too extreme, why would anyone want to bring back the dodo? Or the Woolly Mammoth? I think that, Man has an innate curiosity, especially in trying to bring back something that once existed or replicate something that exists but they can’t reach. And I think, in the case of Species, they wanted to know what aliens were like.”
Before you can raise your disagreement with that idea, Sam announces, “We’re here.”
Looking forward, you see that Sam has stopped by what seems to be a small building of grey metal with a door. From a distance, a speeding driver would assume it to be a toilet, but it would seem unusual for Sam to stop over at a random toilet.
“What exactly is this place?”
As you ask this, the metal door opens and out steps a blonde man with a thick beard.
“God morgon, friends!”
~Mixermike622~
You are currently seated on a plastic chair in a darkened room. The chair is like one of those at auditoriums in colleges and universities, complete with an armrest to the right that, when lowered, gives enough support to hold a laptop or an A4 sized sheet of paper for writing. Currently, a beam of light is being projected from a digital projector in the centre of the room. A beam of light shoots out from the projector and rests on the white screen, creating moving images of a crowd. It seems to be taking place at a convention centre of sorts. Various banners adorn the convention centre, proudly proclaiming that this event that you are witnessing is the 200X International Biotech Expo in Shanghai.
The scene then shifts to a man in a lab coat, with short black hair, and a goatee. A name tag above his right pocket indicated his name to be “Dr Micah Mixalot”.
“After numerous tests, we have enhanced the development of Broca and Wernicke areas in test subject MM622. Preliminary results have shown much promise, with the test subject being able to fully comprehend and utilize human systems of communication, particularly one of the most common forms of communication in the world.”
You are about to bend towards Sam to ask what he means, when the footage of Dr Micah simplifies it for you.
“Basically put, my team has achieved a truly talking animal.”
Twilight Fluffles (Artist:Mixermike622, aka Fluffy)
A little animal comes onto a stage. The animal resembles, to some degree, a lot of the fluffies you had encountered in the past. She is a fluffy with a light purple coat, and a dark purple mane. The scientist gets on his knees, with microphone in hand and greets the creature.
“Hello, Fluffles!”
“Hello, doctor!”
And the footage abruptly ends.
You already have many questions, and you actively voice out the first one, “That fluffy was talking normally!”
“That event, explains Sam, ”was the world’s first look at the fluffy pony, as created by the scientist Micah Mixalot. He was aspiring to be like Elon Musk and Richard Branson in genetics. When Dr Mixalot introduced the fluffy pony animal, it was not as a biotoy, but as an actual animal. A talking pet. And this announcement was two years before the release of the My Little Pony cartoon. He promised investors that he was going to give updates regarding development and breeding of this product of his.
And then, he disappeared.”
“Disappeared?"
"Vanished. Without a trace.”
As Johan says this, he presses a button on the remote. The next slide shows a newspaper cutting that loudly reads “Missing geneticist: Investigation into possible Biotech scam”. This slide only makes you more confused, as Johan continues to narrate.
“Dr Mixalot was never heard of again, and for a few years, there were no new leads regarding the product he was working on. Then, three years later, this was found in the Tunguska River in Russia.”
The next thing that appears on the screen is a cadaver of a fluffy pony mare and three foals. You initially think they are her foals, but their differing colours and different markings suggest that they are not related. The sight of a dead fluffy should revolt you but, after seeing the horror that Hasbio Sam once exposed you to, death does not affect you as badly.
“An adult mare with three foals attached to it” (Artist: Mixermike622, aka Fluffy)
“This is the only evidence we have of the definite existence of MM622. It is an adult mare with three foals attached to it. The bodies were acquired by a poacher who specialized in exotic animals. ”
Johann continues to narrate, as the slides show the various pictures of the deceased fluffies.
“An autopsy of the bodies could not reveal the reason why the foals were attached to the body of the mare but their death was confirmed to be cause by drowning. However, genetic analysis of the bodies revealed that, while consistent with the report given by Micah Mixalot, there was no indication of previous genetics.”
“What do you mean?”
“When you splice genes into another animal, using CRISPR or a similar editor, there is some indication that this kind of editing had been done. Because genetic engineering is still in its infancy, development on genetic chimeras, such as fluffies, usually gives an indication of their base genetics. In the case of these fluffies that were found though, their genetic makeup was ‘perfect’. Literally no sign of tampering, or indication that they were a chimera.”
You can’t understand what Captain Marlin is trying to say.
“What I’m saying is that we don’t know where these creatures came from. These intelligent sapient horses were either an undiscovered cryptid, an alien, or really advanced genetic engineering.”
“And what prevents it from the latter?”
Well simple – we don’t know how Dr Mixalot created these creatures. He was a small name in the genetics field, then suddenly announced to the world that he had developed a talking pony. A few months later, he, and his laboratory, disappeared, along with his work.”
“Then you’re saying that these creatures here are ‘natural’? Where would they come from?” you ask, feeling the preposterous nature of that statement.
“We don’t know,” interjects Sam. “What we do know was that Hasbio eventually acquired these corpses at some point.”
“Some point?”
“They were found by an illegal game hunter, who decided to sell the bodies on the black market.”
“Was that how Hasbio got them?”
“No.
Its how Artanon got them.”
~Art-Anon~
The metal “outhouse” that Captain Marlin came out of was actually an elevator, one that leads to a bunker, deep underground. This bunker is one of the many bases of the Fluffy Defence League, and the presentation you just saw was held in one of the rooms of this bunker. As the three of you walk out of presentation room, you wonder how it is that Sam and Johann has all this info.
“About two weeks ago, we received a message from the Fluffy Defence League that various packages had reached the League from someone at Hasbio. We do not know who the leaker was but, whoever he or she was, they had the anticipated the attack that destroyed Hasbio.”
As you walk through the narrow corridor, you see various fluffies running pass the hallways, some carrying documents, some carry building blocks, and even one riding a tricycle.
“Outta fwuff way!”
The three of you step aside, as you let the fluffy on the tricycle move forward.
Following that, Captain Marlin continues, “in the packages were the documentations about the discovery of the MM622 fluffy corpses, as well as the autopsy reports and overall genetic analysis.”
“But how did Hasbio get all this info in the first place?”
Just as you ask this, you see a door in front of you that reads “Pway woom – 1.” Sam grasps the metal handle of the door and opens it.
“Fuffy wub bwockies!”
As he says this, he sees the three of you come into the room. Instinctively, he comes up, with arms outreached, as he asks innocently, “Wan pway?”
“Hello Art. We’re not here to play.”
“Aww…” says Art, a little dejected.
“But we have a new friend to introduce to you today!”
“Yay!” exclaims Art, as he waddles to you. Stretching out his hooves, he introduces himself.
“Huwwo, fwuffy am Awt! Nyu fwen?”
Looking chipper and very youthful, you suspect that he is fairly young. Sam and the Captain indicate that there is something important about him, but, and for the moment, you just can’t help but give him a hug.
“Hee hee, dat tickwes!”
“This,” introduces Sam, “is Art. He is the first fluffy pony as we know them. Or at least one of the first.”
You blink your eyes.
“You can’t be a serious.”
“But he is. Art here, is over 30 years old.”
Okay, Sam definitely has to be bullshitting right now.
“I’m not.
We do not know if Mixalot was the creator of those fluffies you saw, but their discovery did inspire the genetic engineer known as Artanon.”
“Arthurnen?”
“Artanon. Art was named after him.”
Captain Marlin then interjects, “We first got word from Tumbly that a fluffy had arrived at one of the League’s bunkers. Apparently, a figure wearing a parka and a face mask came to one of the Marco Maximisio cafes with Art and asked the cashier to pass Art to the League straight away.”
“Could it have been the leaker?”
“We don’t know. Art only called her ‘a nice whady’. But what we do know is that she passed both Art, and the various documents regarding Art’s creation over to the League.”
As Captain Marlin finishes his sentence, Sam whips out his smartphone, something he hasn’t done in quite a while. As he does so, he swipes the screen, and shows you various pictures of Art. One of them shows the fetus of a fluffy pony foal inside a vat of sorts.
Sam then explains, “Artanon was a geneticist from a fledgeling company who had heard about Dr Mixalot’s announcement, but never questioned it as a scam. He had a habit of perusing the dark web for exotic animals, chimeras and cryptids. When he heard about the unusual animal cadaver that was being sold, it sounded a lot like Mixalot’s supposed creation. He took the risk and bought the cadaver.”
“Everything we know about the analysis of the MM622 fluffy was done by Artanon, with Hasbio geneticists only adding some footnotes.”
“Indeed, and Artanon was in awe at how perfect the MM622 fluffy was. He thus wanted to replicate it. He wanted to create an intelligent equine that could talk and walk like them. To this day, we still don’t know the exact genetics that went into his project, as he too disappeared one day.”
“It seems unfortunate that the trail has gone cold on the development of so many fluffy creators,” you remark.
“Aye,” bemoans the Captain, “so much of their history is lost to time, or kept in archive, never seeing the light of day. Not many even know of Dr Mixalot, and Artanon was even more unknown.”
Art is oblivious to the chatter of the humans. The albino fluffy gets up, and waddles towards a train set. He proceeds to play with the toy train on its tracks, as he goes “Whee!”
Sam continues, “Artanon was a brilliant man, but even he was limited. His first attempts recreating the fluffies were unsuccessful, as they all had limited intelligence and were prone, ironically, to drown.”
‘Drown?”
“Yes. For some bizarre reason, some of the fluffies he created just naturally drown in their own drool after a time. It took many tries before he created the first batch of foals that were successful. A batch that could speak a simple form of English. A batch that did not ‘drown’.
And Art was one of this batch.”
“red eyes, and their powder-white fluff” (Artist: Art-Anon)
As Sam says this, he shows you a photo of Art with nine other fluffies like him. They all looked identical to Art, with their red eyes, and their powder white fluff. Some were unicorns, some were pegasus, and two wear Earth fluffies, like Art.
“Art cannot reproduce. None of his ‘siblings’ can. It took further engineering under Hasbio, mainly under engineers like Coalheart, Carpdime and MarcusMaximus to create fluffies that could procreate naturally.
Later fluffy pony protoypes (Artist:Carpdime)
Art here is unique, because he was the first. All fluffies as we know them, that were intially released by Hasbio, or breeds derived from Hasbio, are genetically based on this set of fluffies.”
“Why didn’t Hasbio just use the DNA from the Mixalot original?”
“Did you miss the part where the bodies were found rotting in a river?” notes Johann. “There was a lot of loopholes in the genetic material when Artanon acquired it. Thus, Artanon tried his best to fill in the gaps. Think of it like Jurassic Park, where scientists had to use amphibian and lizard DNA in their attempts to recreate the dinosaurs.
Art’s work is unique, and I think he really wanted to make a perfect talking pet. But Hasbio, perhaps seeing the marketability of an animal that could sound like a human toddler, kept those traits in. Artanon’s work and his lab was acquired by Hasbio, and he objected to some of the design flaws that he was trying to correct, as well as Hasbio’s seedier practices. Its why, after a while, he quit the organization.”
You reflect a little on everything that has been discussed so far, and that it hits you.
“Johann, you say that all the fluffies are descended, or at least based off the original fluffies that Art-anon created?”
“That is correct, yes.”
“Then,” you surmise, “the ability to develop powers could be found in the genetics of Art and his fluffies.”
Both Sam and Johann nod their heads. It is likely that they had reached this conclusion before.
“I think Hasbio Sam had many targets when he destroyed Hasbio Inc, but I think Art was one of them. There had to be a reason why Art was delivered to the league ahead of time.”
“But he didn’t get Art, nor did he get the Fluffy Shelter. There’s a possibility that he may be planning another attack in the future.”
There’s a slight crash. The three of you turn around.
“Nuu! Bwockies feww down!!”
It seemed to be that Art was trying to build a Jenga tower. However, his stubby legs could not grasp the jenga blocks effectively and, due to his innate clumsiness, it would be impossible for him to build a proper Jenga tower. Art, dismayed with his ineptitude, starts to cry uncontrollably.
“Huuhuu……Fwuffy am bad fwuff…. Huu,” cries Art.
Sam is about to move to Art to try and placate him. However, you hold your right palm in front of him, indicating that you want to have a try at it. Sam is a bit surprised, but, obliges.
You go towards Art, and stroke his mane. You speak softly, saying “Easy there Art, Jenga bwockies are very difficult to play with.”
You then take some of the easier building blocks that Art was playing with earlier. “Here Art,” you say, try these.”
“Bwockies!”
Art is ignorant of the fact that he had played with the same set of building blocks earlier. He grasps the building block with both hooves and uses it to hit on the other block to make a slight cacophonous sound. It is much like a toddler playing with a building block, lacking any comprehension of their letters, or their use in education. But, as you yourself understand, Art was a prototype, an early version of the fluffy that was in some ways unfinished. Hasbio kept this childlike mentality moving forward, but even compared to later fluffies, a lot about Art seems primitive.
Belly rubbin’s (Artist:Art-anon)
After two minutes of playing with the building blocks, Art, feeling a little tired, lies down. There seems to be something endearing about him, as you place your hands on his belly. Feeling the soft fluff interacting with your skin, you slightly move your hand about, as Art embraces your hand.
He then innocently asks you, “Gib huggies?”
“Sure!”
Art’s face lights up, as he says “Hugs time!”
Hugs time! (Artist:Art-anon)
As you cradle Art in your arms, you feel the fragility of this prototype, one of the first fluffies ever made, and the fluffy from which all other fluffies Hasbio had worked on or bred had originated from. You know that fluffies are fragile, but something about Art, with his albinism, and his age, indicates that he is even more fragile and precious than most. And yet, for all his fragility, there is something about Art that you want to protect.
END OF PART 10