FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Ranna Wright blinked, wincing as she regained consciousness. The too bright white lights glowed in the patterned ceiling. The walls pale blue decorated with patterns that urged her to be calm and serene. Ascetic soap and a hint of human misery filled her lung. The constant hum of distant machinery and the ping of medical apparatuses.

There was nausea as she sat on the cot and pressed her back against the wall, shaking her head to gain some clarity in what had happened, only a frozen moment ago she had been scavenging the mechanical guts of an old commercial mega-plane on the wrecking beaches of California.

Now she was…?

“Where the hell I am?” she muttered aloud, just to break the uncomfortable silence. It smelled like a hospital, but it was cleaner, almost sterile.

Ranna sat still, fighting to steady her breathing. Sweating, she wiped her face, her fingers touching her skin, looking for scars and signs of surgeries. There was nothing, her body was as intact as before, surprisingly clean. Living in the Rust Belt and making a life as a scavenger amongst the toxic ruins meant that real baths were expensive and far apart, but now her skin was painfully sensitive, still marked by the powerful scrubbing, her nails carefully trimmed, and even her hair had been bleached of all color.

Piercings and earrings were gone, removed and their marks seemingly completely healed, the tattoos on her arms were gone, scrubbed clean and the skin where they once had been was now pink. Her entire body hurt from it, she had red marks where whatever had washed her over had been too abrasive, scratches on her ankles and wrists from whatever had held her tightly during the process.

“Hurts like hell,” Ranna muttered to herself, it was more than physical pain. “Like fucking hell.”

For a couple of minutes, the chamber echoed with the clicking of bolts and springs as hidden mechanism awakened to her presence. The door opened smoothly with the hiss of an air lock. As she walked into the adjoining room, Ranna heard the faint sound of a distant siren and stopped to listen, but it faded out.

Rectangular and roughly five paces long by three wide, the room was distressingly sterile and clean, something that could have come out of a movie from before the Collapse and the gryphons. There was a plastic table on the middle of the room and four shelves on the wall to her left. Neatly packaged and arranged were uniforms in plastic bag separated by size. She took one for herself; it wouldn’t do to walk around naked. The uniform smelled of disinfectant, a white jumpsuit with no markings or identification besides a large, red A on the left side of her chest.

It felt… weird. The clothes were too soft, too clean, hugged her full breasts and thick hips too tightly. Life in the Rust Belt had shaped her body, she was a honed scavenger and survivor not... Whatever wore clean, shapeless uniforms?

Shoulder-length black hair that was pulled back; neon blue eyes surrounded by heavy black lashes and fierce, sharply defined features made her ferocious looking, while the corded strength of her body and exacting control made her an excellent commander for her salvaging crew.

The speakers on the wall cracked to life and rang like a bell, she could have believed it to be the end of the work shift, but in those rooms, there was no way to tell the time. The far door was shut. To the right of the polished metal door was a green lever set at the single word Closed. Cautiously Ranna eased the lever upward toward the word Open.

There was a whisper of gears meshing, and the door began to move sideways. She spotted the mini cameras on the walls moving slightly as if following her movements, most probably guided by sound. With some shock she understood it had been following her movements from the moment she had woke up.

“Ey, you bastards, I’m awake!” spat Ranna towards the camera. She was used to ambushes and traps, it was just another part of life in the Rust Belt, but normally she would at least have the rest of her crew and her old rifle at her side. The best chance of escape was usually in the first paralyzing breaths.

A voice reverberated from the speakers, inhumanly perfect, electronically created so that it sounded more human than any human could.

“Welcome to New Arcadia! A Salvation-Ubisphere initiative to recover the old way of life and the goodly values. Now, kindly, put your hands on your head and await the coming of your selected family. You have ten seconds to comply; failure to follow instructions will result in the room being flooded with nerve gas.”

“Fucking great…” Ranna placed her hands on her head and walked into the room.