FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

In a great hall, showing off a display much more ostentatious than the old building's exterior, the sound of heels clicking fills the air. It's quite a cacophony that doesn't go unnoticed by the echidna. She taps her heels, much lower than others she's seen here, and approaches the desk.

There, a secretary sits, dressed in the same short uniform—there's not much variety in the job force. She's an alpaca whose wool puffs out from her collar and helps to accentuate her bust. Busy is filing her fingers, but she takes a moment to look up and finally meets Cien-Se's gaze.

“Oh my gosh!" the alpaca chirps. “I haven't seen an echidna before. You must be the new hire. Here, let me call HR for ya."

“Shouldn't I be working with R&D?"

“OH, everyone gets on-boarded by HR, love," says the Alpaca. “Our HR Director loves to give everyone on board a personal touch."

“I see. Well, I'll just wait here for her or…?" she trails off, offering the alpaca a chance to respond.

“That'll be good. You can take a seat right there. It shouldn't be long. After all, she just finished with another new hire in accounting."

Cien-Se sits herself down, glancing past the secretary's seat and seeing another one of the scanners. It may not be an employee entrance, but it's just as secure.

What wonders must they be able to create here that must be kept under such lock and key? Oh, to find out would be so divine!

Her wait is long, and she squirms, antsy, almost as if she has butterflies in her stomach that are so large and weighty that they hold her down. But that can't possibly be the case. This is a dream come true, and she's already in, so why does her stomach feel so upset?

She has little time to contemplate this when the secretary looks up and smiles at Cien-Se. “You can enter now."

Cien-Se thanks the secretary and passes by the security check. She blinks and shakes her head, rubbing the back of her neck, but she proceeds either way, entering the elevator and letting the thing take her up a few floors.

Along the way, another uniformed woman enters, humming to herself as she presses her button for a floor further up.

“How long have you worked here?" Cien-Se asks, hands in her pockets, looking to scope things out.

The woman doesn't respond to her. There is a blank smile on the Mobian's face as she hums, rocking about on her high heels. Cien-Se glances down at them and stands on her toes. When her calves begin to burn, she realizes she must hit the gym if they want her to wear such a ridiculous get-up.

Then again, one has to play the game to win, and the winners wear the highest heels. But if she thought about this, the elevator trip must take far too long.

The door dings and out steps the quiet woman, exiting to a hallway where more of these corporate drones are busy buzzing about, doing their work and not complaining. “A tight ship she runs," the echidna says to herself, back to her own devices for a bit longer.

After an eternity, Cien-Se enters the hall where HR is, and another secretary greets her again. This one could be the twin of the one downstairs, and this new one smiles and motions to another door. “Miss Ratilda will see you now for the implantation process."

Implantation. Now that she's so close, Cien-Se can't help but rub the back of her head. Her ancestors dealt with cybernetics, forming an entire cult around the idea of perfection beyond biology. She sighs as she enters the room, lamenting the loss of her own purely biological self.

Sacrifices must be made in the name of science, after all.

The room is a dark operating theater with a bench in the middle, a hole positioned and ready for the face. Above is an apparatus—tools, no doubt, for the procedure. With AI so advanced that it can do the work for any top surgeon, it's no wonder that implantation is so commonplace in the workforce. Just across from the bench is a stool, and sitting on the stool has to be the smallest Mobian Cien-Se has ever seen.

Just over a foot tall, the mouse sits with one leg crossed over the other. Her straight, purple-streaked hair obscures her eyes, and her lips are full and curl up in a smile. She wears a beret, and her large, mousey ears are pierced in multiple places. There's an artist's look to her that Cien-Se wasn't quite expecting from someone with her job title.

“Hello there, Cien-Se," the mouse squeaks. “You're just in time. I like that in an employee. I'm Ratilda, but you can call me 'Miss" for this session."

“Very well, Miss," the echidna says, motioning to the bench. “May I ask again the purpose of this procedure?

Ratilda swishes her tail. It's bent at the end with a brush at the tip. She uncrosses her legs and crosses the opposite way. “Oh, it's quite simple, really," she says. “Basic nondisclosure and security. We put the chips in you, and you can't give away any of our secrets. Tell me, Cien-Se, don't you find not having to worry if what you say can compromise your job liberating?"

Cien-Se approaches the bench, running her hand over the padded thing. “Perhaps, in some sort of twisted way. Life has a way of finding comfort in a lack of worry. Need I disrobe?"

“Your neck needs to be free," says Ratilda.

“Very well, miss," Cien-Se says, unbuttoning her top and removing her jacket. When done, she's in her bra and climbs onto the bench, placing her face through the hole. “You know, I could go for a massage. How about you, Miss?"

“You're quite casual for someone working under me," says Ratilda. “We'll have to ensure you work on your deference to authority."

Ratilda stands on the stool, turning toward the tiny console beside her. She presses a big red button, and the mechanical arms within the apparatus open wide and grind.

It is with a quick prick that Cien-Se feels the numbing agent, but she doesn't go to sleep. Instead, she listens to Ratilda speak as she finds her head swimming.

“There goes the first chip. Quick and easy like," coos the mouse.

“And here's the second one," she whistles to herself. “You're doing a good job. You're lying there nice and quiet."

“This anesthetic is good stuff," the echidna coos.

“Yeah, well, it won't last forever. You'll get a headache as you adjust, so get yourself ready.'

“Ready…?"

Ratilda taps her cheek and smirks, tilting her head to the side. “Oh, yes, ready for the rest of your life—starting with me testing out the efficacy of your chips."

Cien-Se had no idea what she meant by that because it was a simple in-and-out procedure. And almost as if in a blur, she is granted a laboratory within the Company's facility—a fantastic workstation for all sorts of projects and plans.

And, as she goes over her plans and choices, she pauses. Does she want to choose… or should she ask the White Hedgehog?