To everything, a turn
Tribute to Meh’s NISC
Featuring art by Carpdime
~
Flakes of snow were slowly descending upon the land, gazed upon behind two sets of glass. The window of a house was the first layer, and the second was a pair of spectacles. The spectacles belonged to Sparks, a scientist from FLUF industries. The company is currently the primary supplier of Fluffy Ponies, now a controlled domesticated species ever since the fluffy pony biotoy was removed from the list of invasive species, as deemed by the National Invasive Species Council, or N.I.S.C.
Nisc. That was also the name of the red fluffy that was sleeping very comfortably in the living room. Just a few years ago, Sparks remembered, he was but a little foal, rescued from an alleyway. Though a feral, he was of a good and marketable red colour. Nisc was the bedrock of a project that Sparks started. Looking away from the snow, Sparks took a look at Nisc, sleeping peacefully on his pillow. He was surrounded by a sofa in condition, a mahogany coffee table, a large dining room table, and other amenities. It was a good house.
~
The house was in poor condition.
Sparks had just arrived at the house from her previous post at FLUF industries. Due to regulations imposed by N.I.S.C., and with more government regulation on the fluffy pony biotoy, Sparks decided to purchase this farm on the outskirts of the city. She was going to attempt something different with the fluffies. In the back of her car was her lab assistant, who was holding the container designated Iso Unit 08. In that container was what she deemed to be the future of the fluffy pony biotoy: the foal NISC, and his adoptive mother, Grimlock.
Sparks work was cut out for her. For her pet project, she only had a team of two people, that being her lab assistant and herself. There was a third man, but he was a freelance hunter, who mostly worked in capturing the various biotoy and genetically engineered animals that had been let loose in the wide history of the 21st century. With the money she could scrounge, Sparks now had to renovate the farmhouse, clear the fields of weeds, and from there, start her project. She was a scientist by training, and agriculture was not really her speciality. However, she knew she had to start somewhere. Removing her lab coat, she got to work, inspecting the house for its many, many flaws.
~
Now a little older, Sparks looked at her hands. Calluses marked her hands and feet, due to the continuous work her assistant and her had to do around the farm. At times, Nisc and Grimlock tried to help but, since they were only fluffies, they couldn’t really help much (other than help to deliver tools and some light materials at times)
Sparks wondered how she was able to do all these things. A private fear of hers was that she’d become some kind of backward hick with all the manual labour she did. But there was one thing the farm did have, and it was her personal pride and joy. Her own personal laboratory.
~
Sparks switches on the table light. With a restricted budget, Sparks now had to make do with only the data and remaining material she had from the predecessor to FLUF industries before it unexpectedly closed. Sparks knew that Nisc, if he had progeny, would be very profitable. However, Sparks knew that the breeding of fluffies was difficult. Ever since the fluffy pony populations were initially left unchecked, the biotoys were considered to be an invasive species. The only fluffies that were allowed to be sold were those that were rescued from the alleyway, as well as breeding stock that was now regulated by the government. It was why, for her research project, she is going to let Grimlock raise Nisc naturally, pair Nisc with one of the fertile dams from FLUF, and then from there, sell off NISC with his set of foals.
Eyeing the ISO unit, Sparks noticed that Nisc was yawning. He was about to wake up.
~
“Good morning Nisc.”
Nisc blinked his eyes. Sparks was standing over him, carrying a cup of hot cocoa.
“Morning dokka,” says Nisc. Much like other fluffies who able able to differentiate their human owners from their fluffy mothers, Nisc took after Grimlock and addressed sparks as “Dokka”, a corruption of ‘doctor.’
“Slept well?”
“Fwuffy hab guud sweepies. Why am aiw so cowd?”
“Come look outside the window, Nisc.”
The maroon coloured fluffy gets up, and waddles towards the window. As he sees the blanket of white covering the fields, Nisc yells out as he realizes what it was.
“Snow! It am snow again!”
~
It was raining.
Sparks was familiar with plants but had never tended to a field before. Learning things like crop rotation and tillage took time, and while she was familiar with lab machinery, being acquainted with farm machinery was another thing. Her first attempt at growing corn had failed, and now she was relying on the soybrean crop to leave behind the nitrogen-rich residue for that next attempt at corn.
“Nu wike wawa.”
Nisc was no longer kept in the Iso unit. The probation period over, he was now being raised by Grimlock naturally. The natural scent treatment that Sparks had applied to Nisc, which made Grimlock presume the child was her own, had worked effectively, and now Grimlock was inseparable from Nisc, even if he was covered in a “bad smell”.
“Nu be scawedies, babbeh. Mummah am hewe. Stay wif mama, and wawa wiww nuu gib huwties.”
As Grimlock said this, she laid down in her back, and adopted a somewhat fetal position, using her body to wrap herself around Nisc. Nisc, feeling a sense of protection, smiled in gratitude.
“Thank ‘ou, mummah.”
Spark’s assistant, Spiegel, came into the living room. Noticing the display of fluffy affection, he remarked to Sparks, “That’s cute.”
“It is,” muses Sparks.
“Makes you wonder if you’ll ever have your own kids.”
“Nah,” Sparks scoffs, “I’m too busy to have time for kids.”
~
Nisc and his foals were now playing in the snow. A shallow puddle of water had frozen and was safe enough for the foals to play on it, under the watchful eyes of Nisc.
The yellow eyes of the car could be seen from a distance. As the metaw munstah was coming closer, Nisc was sensing that his ‘special friend’ was coming back from a routine trip to the nearby veterinarian.
“Come babbehs! Mummah am hewe!”
The car stopped at the front of the house. The door opened to reveal the lab technician, the man who Nisc had gotten used to over the years. There was another man, wearing a parka coat, who had left the car, but was going into the house. He most likely was going to talk to Sparks.
Nisc waddled up to Spiegel and greeted him.
“Wewcum back, Spiegew! Am speshul fwen hewe?”
“I’m afraid not, Nisc. She’s still going for some more tests, so she’ll be back tomorrow.”
Nisc let out a sad sigh. He sometimes wished he could command that metal monster, and travel all the way to the city, so that he could see his special friend immediately.
“But, there’s someone else who’s here to see you today, Nisc.”
And, as Spiegel says this, he reaches into the car and takes out a fluffy.
She was a grey fluffy, a very old one, who had seen many years. Her ears bore metal tags, indicating her past history as a breeder dam. She had lost her own foals many a year ago but was introduced to a new foal that she treated as her own. And now, her foal was here.
“Mummah! Mummah!”
Nisc ran up to Grimlock. Grimlock was an old fluffy that was owned by FLUF industries, one of the last fertile dams owned by the company. Under the previous company, she was kept alive purely to produce “cheap stock”. However, with the dissolution of the previous company, and under FLUF industries, Grimlock had a new purpose – as a foster mother of sorts.
In her time, Grimlock had raised a number of foals. Some had gone on to develop their own talents, and have become a part of human society, fulfilling various roles that Man could see fit for fluffies, in a society that now sees a purpose for them beyond just being uncontrolled vermin.
But, Grimlock always remembered the first foal she raised. The first foal that was not taken from her by the humans, the first foal she treated as her own, and the first foal that she raised until he became a proud stallion, ready to see the world.
“Nis?”
Nisc smiles, as he sees his mother, Grimlock, again.
“It am Nis, Mummah.”
Though Grimlock’s eyesight is weaker, her smile is strong. Realizing that her hunch was right, she brings her hooves to NISC’s face, and feels his cheeks.
“Babbeh Nis am so big nao. Nis am guud?”
“Nis hab ben guud, mummah.”
Grimlock smiles. A bright gleam from the medallion around Nisc’s neck catches her attention.
“Wut am dis?” asks Grimlock, as she inspects the medallion.
~
Nisc was running for his life. It was dark, and he was so, so far away from the nice housie.
“Hoot! Hoot!”
It was a munstah, much like the one he saw all those terrible forevers ago. It had two legs instead of four, but it had the same terrible wings, the same terrible face, the same terrible eyes, and out of the same terrible beak came the same terrible voice.
“Hoot! Hoot!”
Nisc had no idea long he was running. Running into the nummy plants, he kept running as, overhead, the munstah was watching him. The plants could only give him coverage for so long. He needed to head into something larger. Just then, he saw a housie. It was a big housie, much larger than the one with Dokka and mummah in it. Without a second though, Nisc ran into it, hoping it would have more places to hide from the munstah.
To his shock horror, there was nothing in the giant housie. It was empty and bare.
“Hoot! Hoot!”
The munstah landed down. Its beak came down hard on the ground, as Nisc dodged it. He had no idea how he pulled that off, only remembering how he dodged the monster the last time. But he was afraid. The previous monster had damaged one of his eyes, would this munstah do the same?
Suddenly, a pair of grey hooves came flying out of nowhere, as an adult grey fluffy mare punched the munstah in the face.
“Weave babbeh awone!”
It was Grimlock! Though not as strong as the munstah, the force from her punch was enough to throw it off-balance.
“SCREEE!!!”
Sparks was coming in. She was still in her pajamas, but she had been with Grimlock, who were looking for Nisc. Grimlock, sensing her foal was in danger, charged in and fought the owl head on.
Without hesitating, Spaks grabbed a pair of gloves which was lying around in the barn. She then grabbed the owl away from Grimlock.
“Screeeeeeee!”
Thankfully, and as always, Sparks came prepared with a sedative. Injecting it into the owl, the owl started to calm down, before falling asleep.
Nisc was crying. He ran towards Grimlock, apologies streaming from his mouth.
“Am sowwy mummah…… am sowwy….”
Grimlock, however, is not angry. Instead, she continues to hug Nisc, as she reassures her foal.
“Mummah am hewe. Wiww neba wet munstahs git yu.”
Having placed the owl in a cage, Sparks returns to the barn to collect Grimlock and Nisc. As she observes mother and foal embracing, something inside her stirs.
~
“Oh, fwuffy hab this medaw after pwaying a speshul wace. Wotsa hoomins see wacies. And, fwuffy won! And fwuffy got medaw.”
Grimlock smiles. She remembers how Nisc seemed tougher and faster than the average fluffy. Even though he had one poor eye, his earlier life of hardship gave him a natural strength and speed beyond most fluffies, something that Grimlock always admired.
“Wacies am fun, Nis?”
“Oh wewwy much fun, mummah”
~
“You sure about this, Sparks?”
He was a tall man, wearing shades, and a parka coat. His mouth was covered with a mask of sorts, a means of hiding his identity. He was the hunter, and he was the man who had acquired Nisc for Sparks. Previously, they had made a deal – Sparks would raise Nisc, then have him breed with one of the dams at FLUF industries, and from there, sell off Nisc and his foals as a set.
But, now, Sparks had a change of mind. And a different idea.
“Yes. I’m sure of it.
I’ve been training Nisc for over a year now, and he’s quite amazing. Even with the handicap, he can run faster and navigate quicker than the average fluffy. His hand to hoof co-ordination is also impeccable, despite the biotoy limitations.”
“I’m more impressed that people are attending these fluffy races!”
The two of them were talking at a gathering for the second annual Fluffy Pony Races. The first of its kind, there had been an interest in training fluffies for races, owing to horse DNA in their makeup. While the average fluffy is only good for waddling, a well-trained fluffy could still run fairly fast. Instead of selling Nisc off with his first set of foals, Sparks was going to split the prize money between the Hunter and herself if Nisc won.
“But Sparks, what if Nisc doesn’t win this race?”
“There’ll be other races. Word is that there has been more than one derby they’re creating for these fluffies. I hope to enter Nisc into a few of the races to see if he wins one. Worst comes to worst, I’ll just fall back on my original plan.”
As Sparks says this, Nisc is currently behind the starting line. Besides him were fluffies like him, who had the typical fluffy pony chub, but were also well-exercised, and were definitely quick on their feet. Above them was a set of lights, and currently, the light that was showing was the red light. And they were all waiting for the green.
And then, the green light came on.
“GO!”
And Nisc galloped, as fast as he could with his legs.
~
“So, things have really worked out for you, haven’t they?”
Wearing the same parka coat, the same shades, and with his mouth still obfuscated, the hunter had not changed in the past few years. He still maintained a life of mystery, hunting and tracking rogue biotoys and similar genetically engineered creatures. However, he was not here on business.
“I guess they have. The farm is doing well, Nisc has produced his first set of foals, and I’m going to raise them until they reach adulthood, then start selling them to prospective buyers interested in raising their own racing fluffies.”
“And I see you’ve been busy in another way.”
As the hunter says this, he pokes at Spark’s swollen belly. She was in her second trimester, and her baby bump was showing.
“I guess I have been,” giggles Sparks.
“So, whose the lucky man?”
“You know who it is.”
Beneath the mask, the hunter smirks.
“You really like the younger guys, huh?”
Sparks laughs out loud, realizing the truth of that statement. After a while, both the hunter and Sparks sighed.
“Things really could change in just a few years.”
“Yeah,” says Sparks, wistfully, looking out from the window, and at the fluffies near the frozen puddle. ”I never imagined I’d be so attached to those adorable buggers over there.”
~
It was the first winter the farm was experiencing. Nisc, being the curious and eager foal that he was, was jumping up and down, as he saw the layer of white.
“Dokka! Dokka! Su much whitey in outside pwace!”
“Yes Nisc, that’s snow.”
“Oh!”
Nisc then asks Sparks, “Can fwuffy pway in snow?”
“Well…”
“Pwitty pwease?” says Nisc, with pleading yet doeful eyes.
“Well, lets ask Grimlock.”
Grimlock was still having her morning kibble. Having lived in the city for most of her natural life. Grimlock had not been aware of snow. She too was curious.
However, when it came to playing in snow, Grimlock was a bit cautious. She was amazed to see that each of her hoofprints were making an impression in the snow.
Nisc, however, was carefree. Playing in the snow seemed fun. And there seemed to be a puddle, that had now frozen over. Standing on the ice, Nisc noticed that it was slippery. However, and thanks to his hooves, he was able to ‘skate’ on it.
“Whee!”
~
“Whee!”
One of Nisc’s foals said this, while pushing his brother on a hockey puck. Five foals had formed a ring and were skating around in a ring.
“Nis am bestest daddeh!” says Grimlock, happy with the fact that Nisc was now raising his own babbehs. However, with so many foals skating in the puddle, there was a question on her mind.
“Which babeh am Nis babbeh?”
Nisc laughed, as he proudly stated “Aww da babbes mummah. Aww da babbehs!”
Nisc himself had been very productive, and now was siring many prospective racing babbehs. In time, they will get older, and he will train them, until they can run fast, and compete in the fluffy derbies.
“Aright fluffies!”
Sparks was now calling out to the fluffies. She was at the entrance of the house, and the strong smell of pasta cooked with tomato sauce and meatballs wafted out.
“It’s lunch time, fluffies!”
As soon as she said this, and the smell of spaghetti reached the foals, they all stopped skating.
“Sketties!”
And the foals all left the puddle, racing towards the house. Smiling, Nisc beckoned to his mother.
“Come mummah, it am time for nummies.”
“Oh shuwe, fwuffy am hungwy.”
As the two walked towards the house, a thought came to Nisc’s mind. Sparks didn’t always cook spaghetti, but when she did, she always called them, ‘hug sketties’. It was something his mummah said was the best kind of spaghetti. But, in her older age, would his mummah still remember about the best kind of spaghetti?
“Mummah, ‘memba ‘hug sketties’ ?”
Grimwock is confused. Suddenly, she remembers.
“Da bestest sketti!”
And both fluffies laugh.
“Gwimwock am so pwoud of babbeh,” says Grimlock, as she wraps her hooves around Nisc.
“Mummah,” says Nisc. Even though he was a grown stallion, and had now sired many, many children, he will always be grateful to the mother who had raised him for most of his life. And, as they embraced in that snow, mother and son remember a time when they were first met, and truly became a family.
“Nis wiww awways be Gwimwock’s babbeh.”
