Mr. Adams’ Guide to Practical Fluffs - Part 8 – Episode 2: NISC
by Oculus
Featuring art by MEH (and Carpdime)
(and also scenes from Blade Runner)
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”
Your scream reverberates high into the night, as you realize the reality of the body you are inhabiting. You bring your claws to your face. You feel a softness, but it not the same as the softness of human flesh upon human cheek. This is the softness of a cats paw resting on the feathered face of a barn owl. You try to move your eyes but you realize you can’t. You then remember that owls, despite their larger eyes, cannot move them the way humans can. And, for you to look behind you, you have to twist your neck to see your behind.
You give it a try. Unlike a human, this puffy griffin body allows you to completely twist your neck. Interesting.
You feel something itchy in your back muscles. You try to move your shoulders, and that is when you start feeling a connection to the tertiary set of limbs that griffins have – wings. This means you can fly.
Or can you? You’ve never flown before.
You got so many questions you’re asking yourself as you are in this body. The first question, and the big question is why.
And there’s only one answer: Prince.
It just seems baffling. Prince didn’t seem to demonstrate the same reality-bending abilities that the Gowdie or Foxhoarder fluffies could. The idea of a fluffy bending reality seemed more common in the Type 2 fluffies. But you then remember that the Coalheart, despite being a Type 2 fluffy, wasn’t capable of bending reality. Maybe it is different between fluffy breeds?
Or maybe, only certain fluffies have these abilities? It only asks more questions. Does Sam’s other fluffies have abilities?
You’re trying to find Prince but he doesn’t seem to be around. You call out to him instinctively, trying to say “Prince, where are you?!!”
“HOOT! HOOT!”
Great. You just forgot. You’re a griffin now.
~Meh~
~A tribute to NISC~
You spend a moment to think why Prince turned you into a griffin. And then you remembered, the dead mare. In the distance, you can hear the crack of lightning. Bits of the sky water fall from above, covering the fluff of the dead mare, and her charge, taking refuge underneath her corpse.
“M-mummah! Wan’ huggies!”
As the rain falls, you take refuge under a nearby dumpster. Oblivious to his situation, the foal clings to his mother, desperately pleading for her return to life.
“Mummah hug! Pwomise be good fwuffy! Pwomise”
Nearby, you see a plastic bag with some cupcakes in it, and a cupcake near the dead mare. Wagering a guess, the foal may have pleaded to a passerby to provide food for his dead mother, not knowing any better.
“Fwuffy cowd! Tummy owies! N-nu wike scawy noises!”
You want to cry. But despite your immense sadness, owls do not have tear ducts. Somehow, this trait was passed on to this puffy griffin body.
You keep watching over the foal, as you wait for the rain to stop. You can sense why Prince changed you into this form. You do want him to change you back, but, for now, perhaps it is your job to try and protect this foal.
~
After a forever, the rain finally subsides. Despite the onset of night, and possible lethargy, the foal keeps pleading to his mother.
“Hungwy.”
You’re thinking right now. Prince wants you to protect this foal. I mean, why else would he change you into this form? But how? How would you protect this foal? Just stand watch over it, like a silent guardian? Can you bring it food? Sing mummah songs to it? Give it a nice home with toys and stuff?
“Mu-mumma,” the foal hiccups, the tears and mucus drenching the fluff on his face.
“Mu-“ he says, before trailing off.
He sees you. You, towering over him as a giant creature of the dark, with razor sharp claws, and a terrible beak, capable of slicing prey.
“Mu-mun,” squeals the foal, barely able to say the term that could describe you. In abject horror, he runs away from you.
Godammit, you think. I’m trying to protect you. Don’t run away from me!
You give chase. Obviously, the foal cannot understand. There is no way the foal can understand.
He tries his utmost to escape you, but, and with one graceful leap with your legs, you leap in front of him. Placing your two paws on the ground, you shout ‘Stop it!”
“SKREEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”
He is shaking with fear. But he is about to run again. You try to touch him gently with your ‘hand’.
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”
The foal screams, as blood trickles from a fresh wound delivered to his right eye socket.
Aw fuck! You didn’t mean to do that! How could you even hurt this poor foal! But, what could you do?
You stay, motionless. Crouching down, you watch the foal. The foal, fearing death, can only plead for the one thing he truly wants.
“M-mu. Nee’ huggies. Nee’”
He is still hiccupping. You hear a sound in the distance. With a quick twist of your head you see behind you. Nothing.
You turn back. There is a small puddle of blood where the foal was. You see a smaller puddle in front of it, and another, until you see the limping figure of the foal, its hoof on its eye, feeling the greatest of pain.
An immense guilt overcomes you. You didn’t mean to hit the foal, you only wanted him to not run away. Eyeing him from a distance, you see that the foal has crawled itself in a Chinese takeaway box, underneath one of the bins.
“Hoot.”
Dammit Prince, where the fuck are you?
~
A few hours have passed. The foal is still in the takeaway box. His crying has subsided, but he hasn’t fallen asleep. He seems aware of your presence but has not said anything. He seems afraid, but also resigned to his current fate.
You wonder to yourself, what will you do now? Is this your fate, to be the guardian of this creature? How exactly could you protect it? Heck, how would you be able to find food for it? Would he even accept food from you, a predatory animal? You had heard of fluffies seeing other animals as friends, like Mutagen mare with the kitten, but it may not be the same with a foal who already sees you as a ‘munstah’.
You hear a footstep. A boot landing itself onto a puddle.
You turn around.
You see a man, wearing a gas mask, with green lenses, and completely hooded. He reminds you heavily of the Russian, and the stalkers from the world of the postfluff. However, the camouflage and getup did not resemble that of those Russian stalkers. The Hunter is holding a rifle, and has it aimed at you.
“SKREE!!!”
You lunge at him. Maybe you were worried that he was coming for the foal. You remember that this reality had that NISC thing, and his individual could very well be one of their exterminators. Perhaps this hunter was here to finish the job.
Thwip!
Before you can do anything, you can feel the dart impact on your skin. It feels like a hypodermic needle but fired at you from a distance forcefully. You let one loud scream into the night, fighting off the pain.
And then you feel the numbness. You can’t feel your paws. First the legs, then your sense of taste, and slowly, your vision.
Against your will, the hunter carries you, and places you into a carrier of sorts. He approaches the takeaway box. Through the blurry vision, you can hear something
“…found an unchipped griff…… need… checked out.
Hey…. Still buying foals…… project?”
And that’s the last thing you hear, before you enter a slumber.
~
Glimpses of brightness has allowed you to see the hunter carry you off into a laboratory of sorts. Near you is Prince, who had been caught recently, along with the foal. Each of them have been placed within a cage of sorts, and seem to heavily sedated. The only sensation you can feel is numbness – whatever cocktail of chemicals was in that guys tranquilizer dart, it’s working well on the three of you.
You have lost your sense of time. You’re not sure if an hour has passed, or if you’re confusing mere minutes with hours. As you try to fight the sedation, you see glimpses of reality through the cage. First, the interior of some vehicle. The skyline of a city. The loading area of a building. And eventually, the white interior of a laboratory.
For a brief moment, you glimpse a woman with purple hair. Or was it brown hair? You blinked your owl eyes, but the colour seems to switch from a purple hue with a magenta streak, to a dark and very natural brunette. One thing is definite though, and that she is wearing glasses.
She seems to be speaking to the hunter about something, but you don’t quite understand it. You’re not sure if it’s the tranquilizer at work. Or was this the case where, being in an animal body that’s not your own, you lose your memory, and with it, your sense of identity? Can you even remember how you got here?
“This white one is pristine! How did you even manage to find a fluffy like this?”
“trying to reach for a hotdog in the alleyway.” (Artist:Carpdime)
“Well, I would love to include this particular fluffy in our breeding programme but, and as I’ve found out, he’s neutered, so he’s no good.
Still, I haven’t quite found any fluffy like him. I’m sure one of the other scientists might want to check him out.”
“Figures, but you said you wanted foals.”
As the Hunter says this, the scientist pulls out a tablet from her coast as she says “Indeed, I am.” From the way she says it, in a matter-of-fact manner, and as she starts swiping and droning on a lot of information, you feel that there is an uncanny similarity between her and Samuel Adams. You’re not quite sure what it is though.
While she is still chatting with the hunter, someone comes into the company of the scientist and the hunter. He seems to be a young man with green spiky hair, like a sort of mohawk. A very outdated hairstyle, even for 2012, and definitely unprofessional. Judging from his casual clothes, he seemed like an intern. It seems a bit surprising, as the other staff in the laboratory are usually clad in lab coats and office wear, save for mohawk kid and the hunter.
“You sedated him?” he asks the Hunter.
“Yeah, a few other back,” grunts the Hunter, “but he seems to be stirring a bit.”
Your paws feel the friction of the Hunter’s camo suit being traded for the supple flesh of the lab technician. Although still young, he is able to inject a fresh sedative in you.
“Woah!” says the lab technician.
You moved a bit, clearly startled by the sharp pain of a new injection of sedative. But its feeling pointless, as you feel the young man’s hand on the back of your body.
“Sleep now, girl, rest easy, you’re safe.”
~
You’ve been place inside a cage, on a floor not far from a table. The female scientist is standing before a sort of container. Resembling an iron lung of old, the container has some manner of apparatus and controls at the side. Above the controls you can see in clear bold lettering the designation “Iso Unit 8.” As the scientist opens the container, you hear the unmistakeable sound of the foal you had hurt earlier.
“Wan mummah! Mummah!”
As you hear the foal crying from deep inside the container, you hear the voice of another fluffy, an adult mare.
“Pwease Ostwich, bwing back babybees.”
The mare is pleading to the scientist. She smiles, while coaxing her mane.
“Hey there, Grimlock. Guess what? We caught the ostrich, and found one of your babies!”
Grimlock…. You swear that’s one of the transformers. If you recall correctly, a Dinobot.
The scientist lowers Grimlock into the container, as the mare complains,
“Why dawk? Gwimwock nu wike!”
After she makes sure the mare is safe, and gets acquainted with the foal, she promptly closes the container.
For a while, the scientist and the hunter observe a screen, which shows the inner workings of the container to the two of them.
“Baybee!” cries, the mummah, as she continues,”It otay baybee, mummah hewe. Baybee back wiff mummah, mummah giff wuv and hugs!”
As the mare reassures the foal with a truly maternal instinct, the foal cries out “Mummah! Mummah!”
The scientist is a bit elated, as she remarks, “There, you hear that? Nailed it! Works like a charm every time!”
Even though you can’t smile, you feel happy. As you slowly drift into sleep, you can hear the two of them debating the name of the foal.
“Hey, what do you want me to label him?”
“Dunno. Deadeye? Bait?”
“Come on.
Here, I’ll just put down NISC for now.”
~
You have returned to the void.
You think to yourself, how did this happen, how did it come to be this way? You mind travels back to a few days ago, when you were talking to Samuel Adams at the park.
As you visualize, you can see yourself sitting on the park bench, on your family friend, Samuel Adams, with whom you’ve already been on a few adventures. You remember his clothes, the few wrinkles he has, his hair, which is a natural shade of blue, and his constant smile. A smile that fits his daring.
“Laddie. Right now, I need you to listen to me.”
The memory is playing in your mind. It has a dreamlike quality, but instead of conjuring a new image, you seem to be reminiscing over something recent.
“Sam?” you feebly ask. You got too many questions, but you can only manage one.
“Am I dreaming?”
“Right now, I need you to listen to me.
Both my counterpart and I are looking to acquire a lost breed of fluffies. One of the original breeds from back in the day. A M.E.H. Em ee Hech.”
“Em ee Hech?”
“Em eeh Hech?”
“That’s right, a MEH.”
~
You’re awake. You’re still in the cage. For some reason, the scientist has placed your cage right next to a sleeping Prince. Not really a good idea, knowing the natural proclivity for fluffies to be frightened of any terrifying creature, but this lab seemed to be a skeleton job if they had to rely on freelancing hunters.
You see the scientist talking to her protégé, the lab technician, as he asks the same question you did a few days ago.
“Meh? The fuck kind of name is that?”
“It was one of the first breeds Hasbio was working on before they had that whole break-in.”
“I thought they were just toys!”
“That’s what the public thinks, but the reality is that these biorobotic constructs each have their own unique genetic signature. It is like a cat or a dog having different breeds. Many genetic engineers were working at Hasbio until the whole break-in happened, and despite their attempts to cover-up what they were doing, we ended up with a new invasive species.
Now we just got to leave them in there to bond for a while.”
“You sure its going to work?”
“They’re both MEHs. MEHs are fairly common, and it would make sense to give a MEH foal a mummah fluffy that’s a fellow MEH.
That foal is of a really good pedigree, despite the eye damage, and he’s clearly fertile. The current plan is to have the mare raise him then, and after NISC is grown up, we’ll set him up with an appropriate mate. ”
As she says this, the lab technician turns to Prince and you, both in your cages.
“So what are we going to do with these two?”
“According to this roster here, the white fluffy is supposed to be sent for examination. They were just going to sell him off, but the genetic makeup is like no other fluffy in the record. They’re sending him to you-know-who to look into him.”
“And the griffin?”
“Standard procedure. Chip, tag, then release.”
As they say this, the two of them leave the room.
~
It’s been about an hour. You’re bored, but, the only thing you can do, as a literal bird-cat in a cage, is watch. The only thing that’s interesting is the assuring sound coming from the Iso unit.
“Mummah wuvs babbeh,
Babbeh wuvs mummah
Babbeh dwinks miwkies,
Gwow up big an’ stwong!”
In a way, you feel relieved. The foal had lost his mother, but now, the people at this lab were giving him a new one. In a way, at least one problem was solved.
As that moment of happiness was going on, Prince wakes up. Your owl eyes flare up with concern. Even though your owl face cannot show human emotion, you remember full well the terrifying visage was to the foal.
“Fwen!”
You blinked. Prince recognizes you! But how? You try to tell Prince to change you back.
“Hoot! Hoot! Hoo-hoot!”
Ah yeah. You’re a fucking griffin. As you stare at the ground, feeling a bit dejected, an apologetic tone comes out of Prince, saying “Fwuffy am sowwy, fwen. Pwince onway wan save widdwe babbeh.”
You sigh. Prince did mean well. But how are the two of you going to escape?
“Fwen! Fwuffy hab an idea!”
Oh no Prince. No more ideas.
“Hoot! Hoot!”
Please Prince, you think. The cage offers limited space for you to squirm back, as Prince squeezes his hoof through the cage.
“Hoot, hoot!” you start to shriek, loudly thinking, “No!”
~
Upon contact, you feel your soul leave the body of the griffin. However, upon doing so, you notice that griffin is starting to act naturally, like as though it has returned to normal. In an instant, it swipes its claws at Prince but, and in a quick gesture, Prince retreats to his cage. He looks visibly shaken, having narrowly escaped the claws of a wild griffin.
As your consciousness, your “soul”, hovers above the ground, you wonder what to do. You only wish Prince could see you.
However, the white Carpdime is wide-eyed, but happy, as he giggles “Fwen am ghostie!”
You’re not too happy about that description. Nevertheless, and before you can say anything, you hear footsteps.
“Fwen, go!”
Your spirit darts through the wall. Interestingly, you move like a spectre through the lab. Your astral projection tries to understand the surroundings, but your vision seems to be going dim. Seems to be that this form of consciousness transference that Prince can apply on you has a sort of time limit.
But time limit to do what?
Maybe you need a body. Hovering around in this intangible form would hardly do you a favour, and for the current moment, you have no idea where your “real” body is. Maybe if you can “borrow” someone’s body for a while, you can find out where your “actual” body is.
As you think this, you see the lab technician from earlier, asleep at his desk. You’re not exactly sure how to do this.
As you hover slowly into his body. You just feel like, charging in.
In a gesture similar to holding your breath – your ghostly breath - you think to yourself, “sorry pal.”
~
It is weird to describe the act of possession, but it feels like entering your hand into a glove. A really slimy glove. And as your hand digs into the slime in the glove, you feel an eel inside it, fighting you. And it’s an electric eel that clearly doesn’t want to be disturbed. You feel shocks that tremor over your existence but your persistence, and your desire to live, overcomes the unsuspecting defender. As the eel is forced out of the glove, you firmly rest yourself within the body. At least that’s how it feels like.
You’re not sure if you’ve actually possessed this body. Surrounded by nothingness, and fearing entering an oblivion, you try to think.
You focus your mind on the lab technician. What would he be like? He most likely would be an intern working at this lab. Maybe a fresh graduate, with a degree in biological sciences. Of course, he wouldn’t have high level clearance, but this lab seemed to be a skeleton job, something set up perhaps to support the actions of NISC. Maybe you’re one of those people who is interested in the business of biotoys and wants to get in on product management.
“Hey, wake up.”
Perhaps he could be interested in learning about fluffies? I mean, you had heard vague mention by the spectacled woman about revolutionizing the sale of flu-
“WAKE THE FUCK UP!!”
You blink. You feel your digits. Hands. You have hands! Normal human hands! As the human skin on your fingers touch the soft flesh of your cheek, you can feel that semblance of humanity. You’re human again!
Your vision is still blurry, and you still are trying to make sense of what you see around you. You seem to be waking up from a desk. As you slow bring yourself up away from the desk, you look carefully at your clothes. You’re wearing the lab technicians outfit. Looks like that thought process did work!
“I don’t understand how the hell you can sleep at a desk.”
You instinctively move your body. The feel of your body moving to see the woman behind you alerts you to the fact that you are seated on a swivel chair. The woman addressing you was the bespectacled lady you met earlier as griffin. But something seems odd. For a moment, her hair seemed to be purple, with a magenta streak. As you rub your eyes to see clearly, it becomes a dark brown. However, when you blink your eyes, it becomes purple again.
“Why are you blinking so much? Jesus Christ, did you even sleep last night?”
She’s not going to believe your story, especially since you have no idea who you’re supposed to be at the moment.
“I was looking at way too much porn last night,” you yawned.
The woman looks at you with visible disgust.
“You’re fucking disgusting.
Anyway, listen. I need you to buy me dinner. I’ll be working in the office late today.”
Godammit, couldn’t you have thought of something better? Still, you have no idea how well you can keep the charade up. Well, at least she’s asking you to do something simple, not science related.
“You want the usual?”
“No, I want to try something different today. There’s a noodle bar I heard about that opened recently. I want you to go buy me some stir-fry takeaway from there.”
Eagerly you get up. Even though you have no idea who you are exactly, or what you’re supposed to be doing, being in a human body is a lot better than being in some animal body.
“So, what is the address of this noodle bar?”
The woman raises an eyebrow, as she notes “It’s over at the Weyland Auto Arcology. The one next to the Tyrell Corporation pyramid.”
You heard that name before.
“Tyrell?”
“Yeah, Tyrell Corporation. My dude, do you need to go home early or something? You’re usually not like this.”
You shake your head, as you try to explain, “I’ll get you your dinner first. And then I’ll see how my mood is.”
You get up from your chair and depart the office. It seems to be an office where the staff are busy tabulating the results, perhaps from the various experiments you saw earlier. The exit to the office leads into a hallway of white. Nothing inconspicuous yet. Just a lot of scientists in lab coats and similar gear. Nothing unusual. A sign affixed to the ceiling indicated the nearest elevator. You follow the instructions, navigating your way through this maze within the building.
After a while, the hallway leaves the laboratory and “science” areas of the building, and into the more administrative area. You can see a window. Looking out would give you a good sense of where you are currently.
As you look out, you blink your eyes. You just saw a car fly past by the window.
Alright, this is definitely not the Postfluff. In fact, this was the polar opposite of the Postfluff.
As you look through the window, you see giant buildings, reaching out into the sky, teeming with windows, and giant screens dominating the cityscape. The most prominent advertisement is for a pill, which can be consume as a full meal, being advertised by a geisha. You recognize what city this is.
“This is Blade Runner,” you silently note to yourself. Or to be more precise, the Los Angeles of the Blade Runner movie.
It is too incredulous but, after the world of Postfluff, this doesn’t seem to be a bit unbelievable. If anything, you chuckle at the idea of crossing into a world that existed only in fiction. But you only know the nature of the world you’re in – you’re not sure what building you are in exactly. You suspect its related to NISC, but it could be something else.
After continuous navigating, you’ve reached the lobby of the building, only to find that the exist does not lead out into a road. Because, even though you’re reached the “ground floor” of the building you’re in, your tower is but one part of a massive arcology. You are confronted by a giant walkway, hovering at least ten storeys above ground, with various hover taxis whizzing past by.
You turn around and realize that the walkway is transparent. Seeing through the transparent glass lattice, you see the many walkways connected to the tower. And it then it hits you.
It’s the Hasbio building. Or rather, was the Hasbio building.
At some point, this building was merged with some other structures to create a new super-structure, an arcology that could house not only commercial and industrial areas, but even residential areas as well. An entire city in a building, complementing other similar self-contained cities in the future Megalopolis of Los Angeles in an alternate 2012.
As you keep walking, you pass by what seems to be a screen. A blue fluffy is happily eating his skettis, as the prompter loudly proclaims, “Fluffy Sketties! The pasta so good, fluffies ask for it by name!”
“Fluffy Sketties! May contain up to 30% human replicant”
The advertisement then ends with a soft but cheerful “Brought to you by the Tyrell Corporation.”
Yep. You’re definitely in a version of Blade Runner.
~
You remembered her directions and managed to make your way to the noodle bar. It took a while, and you had to keep asking directions, as well as looking for maps, but, thankfully, the distance was not that far. But there was something about this location that seemed familiar.
Overhead, you can see a flying vehicle advertising the off-world colonies. Neon lights brighten the displays of the various shops on the ground level. Laughing at the incredulity of the situation, you wonder if Harrison Ford is going to turn up near you.
“Four. I want four.”
Fucking hell. It is him. Harrison Ford.
Well, not exactly Mr. Ford himself. Its Rick Deckard in the flesh, ordering noodles from a man who could not understand English. He’s in front of you in the queue and received his noodles. He goes down to sit at one of the seats.
While moving up the queue, you notice a man of mixed heritage move up to Deckard. Judging from the fedora, and the detective suit, you recognize the man as police officer Gaff. At this point in the movie, Gaff was going to arrest Deckard, as part of a larger scheme from the LAPD to get Deckard out of retirement as a “blade runner” and to hunt down the rogue Nexus-6 replicants. Seeing a scene from one of your favourite movies play out before you, you silently mouth the lines, “he say you blade runner.”
You blink. Officer Gaff repeated himself to Cain again.
“Well its not exactly mine, but she is at the FLUF Industries building.”
Before you can hear the rest of the conversation, its already your turn. Trying your best, with the minimal Japanese you know, you try to order some takeaway soba.
Carrying your takeout in the bag, you see Cain, carrying his bowl of noodles, and following Gaff into the police car. Just like in the movie. But the difference seemed to be about that fluffy. Maybe this was a world where the ownership and regulation of fluffies was a lot more controlled? It may explain why NISC existed.
There’s too many questions. But there’s only one thing that’s certain in your head.
You need to get back home.
END OF PART 8