made to specification [1.00, unbastardized]
[title:made to specification] [version:1.00, unbastardized] [author:greywolfe] [mailto:greywolfe at new dot co dot za] [date:twenty three march, two thousand and seven] * * * working for wolf systems is easily the best job i'v ever had. we code what they want for seventy percent of the time. for another twenty percent, we do what we want - our own projects, mostly. and then, for that final ten percent of our workday, we stare into space. but then, sometimes, we get to do something completely different. this story is the story of one of those things. * * * we are at a time where entertainment is everywhere. the word the press is using is ubiquitous. entertainment is programmed into everything - from computers all the way through to clothing that plays your favourite music to you as you walk down the street. in our world, very nearly anything technological is possible. science is very nearly at a point where it can change your appearance on a whim. if, today, you wanted shocking purple hair, you no longer need to go through the process of acquiring hair dye. among other things this has rendered some technologies obsolete. as a trite example, several years ago, there were a great number of console wars - wars about which gaming rig was the best. most of those consoles have fallen by the wayside as other and better forms of electronic entertainment have come our way, but tonight, out on the wolf systems campus, i - and several of the other paid research interns are about to get a glimpse of the future. i am thane, an otter who lives and works at upper campus. upper campus is mostly engineering buildings, and we've watched the gamestation being developed right the way from a prototype all the way to a working system. the gamestation itself isn't exactly revolutionary. most of what it contains is ordinary electronics, like many of the consoles that went before it, but there's something particularly special about it that hasn't come before. and that's what the engineers like to call "magic." i'm less prone to this terminology, because i've seen "magic" before in other pieces of engineering and, really, it's all about building something small that works better or does something faster than it's rival. what i define as engineering magic is something new. something never before seen. switching off the lights to my office, i make my way over to the living quarters. it's that beautiful time of evening - not quite dark and not quite light, where the sky is bathed in the most amazing colours. for a change, the clouds are playing along with the sunset and wafting in quiet, red streams across the sky. i can see the moon and the beginning of a few constellations. "great bear" here. "the stag" there. all is quiet when i enter my little abode. i don't have to look too long or too hard to know what's changed. ordinarily, my holovision set would be covered - i've simply never been a fan of the medium, since my pa, titus, taught me to read - and taught me to be critical. engineers have been into my room and hooked the gamestation to the holovision set. it's a prototype. my eyes catch that much, but beyond that, i don't bother to explore much. there will be plenty of time to do that in the coming hours. right now, all i want to do is slink into a nice, warm bath. making my way past the picture of pa titus and inwardly thanking him, as i always do, i begin to prepare for night, examining myself in the full-length mirror as i undress, sliding the black fabric of my smartsuit down my furry body. i'm starting to go to seed. that much is evident. years of sitting in front of terminals programming has led to a short, dumpy build. the kind of build that my friends often referred to as the "beaver" build. during autumn, the taller, faster otters would all swim the far distances, seeing many strange and new things to collect wood for our dam, while those of us who were "beavers" actually built the dam. prevailing logic suggested that the beavers were stout and strong and could hold the pile together. prevailing logic was often wrong. the only reason we were stronger was because we'd think about how to build the structure. how to lay it so that it would stand the test of a winter. you had to make it so that it wouldn't break in the spring. and that meant every stick had to be carefully placed. which is exactly how i ended up in engineering. but my body is slowly turning on me, fur that was once brown and lustrous is now brown and silver - but still lustrous. arms that were sort of thick with muscle have become thick with underlying weight. my belly is possibly the greatest indicator of change. throughout the years, i have always been sturdy. now i'm starting to swing towards fat. none of these changes bother me much. pa titus looked the same, when he was going through old age. he liked tinkering and he'd taught me how and it was wonderful to kind of grow into the kind of otter he was. shrugging at my reflection in the mirror, i break into my habitual grin. body be damned. tonight i'm going to get to tinker with the gamestation. and it'll be worth it. i let myself sink into the warm water of the bath, feeling my fur get soppy and wet and heavy with water all around me. this has been one of my favourite sensations from being a child, and i find that - not surprisingly, i'm lazily flopped on my back, doing casual loops in the large bathpool, the temperature of the water kept constant by the thermostat. eyes shut, relaxing and thinking about the past. when i return to myself, the last of the rays of the sun have vanished and the lights - dim as they are, have begun to slowly bathe the pool of water in indirect light. time to see what the gamestation is made of. sliding my wet body from the water, i make my way back over to the lounge area and contemplate everything. i've been told off and on that we are sort of being paid to also be guinea-pigs - alpha testers - of whatever software comes with the machine. and, much to my surprise, there's a little tray with sparkling data cubes next to my universal remote control. the large, comfortable towel around me has been drying my body as i've been watching all this and, within the few steps it takes me to go from the bathroom to the holovision set, my body is completely dry and all i'm left with is the warm, fuzzy feeling of the towel around me, it's own inner thermostat fluctuating by slow degrees as it seeks to find some sort of temperature that i will like. many of the little devices that i keep tuned like this are set to somewhere /just/ warmer than room temperature. paws reaching out to hold the tray of cubes, i notice one, immediately, that i've been watching gather steam throughout development. the very talented mister sandakan, a rat gifted beyond measure had tried to explain this particular game to me and had failed. the conversation had gone something like this: "it's a kind of...personalized game of 'the furs.' remember that?" i had noded. i did. but dimly. "remember how you could make individuals that you really liked? or loathed? like that, say there was a particularly cruel mastiff-bully in your class? and you could get 'the furs' to make a very close approximation? given enough time and effort?" i nodded again. "well. imagine that you only got to make one fur. and that you interacted with it. it had sounded kind of anticlimactic. he'd chuckled, seeing the confusion in my eyes. "you don't get it now. but wait until alpha..." and i had. sandakan had even written a note to me on an erasable tablet: "i promised. enjoy. feedback to me, when you're ready to give it." i just chuckled. he was possibly one of the most unique individuals on campus. and i liked him a lot - enough to decide that this was what i wanted to spend my time with. no doubt, others would spend time with the other games and they would give feedback to those developers. and so, placing the data cube on top of the console as instructed, i sat down to watch and wait and see what might happen. the introduction isn't terribly flashy, but i can understand that. it's a kind of crude release alpha. i know he's probably working on this aspect, at least, so i don't note it down on the pad. what i /do/ have to write back about is that the menus are garish. all terrible colour choices and placed in the wrong area of the room. but then, sandakan has always been universally terrible at this sort of thing. great game designers don't always have intuitive user-interface in mind when building blockbusters. for a few seconds, i move my paws about, getting used to the motion of the menu sliders. finally, feeling confident enough with the basic structure of all the user interface elements, i begin to build a fur. the first time around, i build myself and marvel at the amount of detail. it's like i'm standing in front of myself. i have the digital me model poses. they all look pretty hilarious. a note to sandakan. get the poses to be a bit more natural. erasing that, i start over. carefully selecting building blocks and creating sandakan. again, quite a good likeness. the poses for sandakan, perhaps in deference to the game's creator, are a little better. but still not up to scratch. but all of this is making easy stuff. stuff that, as a developer, sandakan would have built-in. as a kind of office prank. he normally does things like that in alpha. i take a break from my cushion in front of the holovision monitor to find that nearly an hour has passed. it's time for a light dinner and more tinkering. biting at my lower-lip, i power down the console, walking to the kitchen. the fridge is just about empty. i only have two boxed noodle concotions left. cursing my luck - i will have to go into the island shopping district tomorrow - i take one of the boxes and warm it. hm. and to drink...chocolate milk. i have to laugh as i make my way back into the lounge. it's no wonder i'm an otter going to seed. my eating habits are clearly not the best. reaching for the tablet, i quickly dash off the glyph for send and then the glyph for sandakan. for a second, the tablet shows it's working diagram - mine's programmed to be a plump dragon doing spins in midair - and then it's clear again. sandakan has received my message. i don't expect there to be a reply. rumour has it that he's going to spend the weekend sleeping in - unwinding from the last few weeks of frantic code-slinging. i dig back into my food as i push the tablet away - using the crude, but expedient method of setting it on the floor and using a hind-paw to push it away. as always, the island's food is amazing and i find myself pining for a second helping, but i was the one who didn't watch my stores and now there's only one more meal's worth of food. sighing, i upend the box into the matter destroying unit, tossing the little carton in afterwards. once the ritual of dinner is dispensed with, i make my way back to the console and power it up. the game drops me right back into the character generation application and, for a second, i'm struck dumb by what to build next. my eyes roam around the apartment until they settle on a picture i haven't seriously looked at in a while. ah yes. a true test. i find that i cannot just start building anywhere i want. sandakan has built it just-so. build the head, build the body. build the feet. add the clothes. add the extras. this doesn't suit me very well and i have to lean over onto my belly and write a bad custom-hack into the tablet so that i can begin anywhere. feeling a little guilty and highly amused at the same time, i forward my code on. someone else can make head or tail of what i've done, exactly. rolling around onto my back and staring at the blank area directly in front of me, i begin sculpting the feet - broad and heavy footpaws. carefully clipped claws that are kept neat and tidy. long, silver fur that runs up to muscular legs to hold the weight of the otter in question. i even manage, through a bit of indirection and janky code to add the bullet-hole inside an inner thigh. tastefully ignoring it, i place a black loin-cloth over the furred and broad nether regions, working my way upwards. waist is broad, belly is quite round from too much eating. that silver fur drifting in gentle waves as air touches it from the room. as i create the being, it starts having presence - top-half currently ghostly and indistinct. staring up into that vortex of ever-changing shapes makes me sick, so i concentrate on what i'm actually building, but every now and then i catch dragon scale. or stag-antlers. or three tails. turning the model around with my paws, i begin constructing the tail so i don't have to see that again. the scales were fine. the stag antlers make me think of his wisdom, but the tails... short, stubby otter-tail complete, i move up to his broad back. here's the place where he was crushed in the river one year and a rock bit into his flesh. fur never grew out of there ever again and it was like a little cratered pock-mark on his back. up, further - broad shoulderblades to shrug with in times of trial. "we do what works..." and then turning him around to build the front. large pectoral mounds, giving way to rounded and broad shoulders. thick arms that used to be muscle, slowly gone to fat. large forearms that knew exactly how to erect dams and move his family and paddle in the water. those broad paws. looking at his wrists. not sure i want to do that... the model, such as it is, is already tugging at me, but it has to be tested. paws shaping his handsome facial features. those glinting eyes, grey and full of mischief. slick fur running all the way down to the broad shoulders. always carefully kept beard and whiskers. upturned and grinning mouth. all of it is present. closing my eyes, i swim through all the voices that the game has available and settle on the deepest voice i can find that has the most gentle, yet commanding tone. i sit in my lounge, playing with emotional sliders, trying to get the balance of his personality just right, until it comes time to name him and save him. and for the first time tonight, i blink and pause to consider my actions, but there is no going back now. it has to be tested. his silver fur blowing in the breeze of the lounge, i write the file. and then it's off to search through the number of locations where we can meet. i pick the most pastoral one. the one that reminds me most of here. there's mountains in the background, and by the meeting place, a big dam. and the sun is glowing. it seems like a perfect day. i load the whole lot up and find that i am standing in the middle of a cool forest. trees all around me and my muzzle facing the scent of the dam. i inhale. it's just like being there. the sliders - the panels - everything that was a user interface has fallen away except for one or two tell-tale signs that i'm in a game. and this is how i know that those suggesting magic were right. i am in this world. there's a glyph on the right hand side of my field of vision that suggests...smaller. and a glyph just right of that which suggests bigger. and next to that, a termination glyph. i've seen old versions of an operating system known as doors. i recognize these three glyphs immediately. i chuckle at how sly sandakan is, slipping in all this geek lore, but then i focus on the task at hand. finding my way to the dam. finding my way to him. * * *
[twenty five march, two thousand and seven] * * * long before i see him, i smell him. he has his pipe out and the scent of the smoke draws me forward. smelling the rose scent makes my heart pound. i remember nights, lying together as he wrapped one paw around me, watching firelight dance in our little, humble abode, while he would puff on that black and gold pipe of his. his mainstay through job changes and the death of his wife. through everything. the scent tugs as much as it repels. when i find him, he's doing something he would always do. he is standing with a book in one paw and the bowl of his pipe in the other, round glasses catching the light as he peers into the book - making sense of the words. i never could enter into his study quietly enough. those eyes peer into mine and my stomach flip-flops. suddenly this isn't such a great idea. one paw reaches for the kill switch, wanting to yank myself out of the game, but that deep voice stops me as it always did in the past. "thane?" i look at him - to speak would be to name him. and to name him would mean there would be no going back. i blink, caught emotionally off guard. trying to think of some kind of lame retort, but my soul betrays my body. "pa..." i manage, hoarsely. "pa titus?" it's as if he catches the emotion in my voice, because he steps forward and puts a big paw on my shoulder, squeezing it, gently. "i am here now, son. i am here now..." time stands still. i forget about everything that happened. what tore us apart in the first place, walking the one step forward, to wrap my arms around his quite ample middle. good idea or not, this is necessary. he wraps me up in his big arms and does something i've missed - he lifts me up into the air and spins me around, his pipe jammed between his lips. "pa..." i stammer, feeling a little drunk and woozy from the spinning, but still caught off guard at the fact that he is standing right in front of me. "i think," he says, chuckling, "that a certin otter missed me." that is an understatement, but this is one day that has to be perfect. "i did," i confess. he takes my paw and leads me down to the lake and we sit. his arm around me as we stare into the water. his large frame huddled against my own smaller one. there are many things i'd love to talk about to my pa, but i know i can't. i have to rember - keep it straight in my head - that he is just a collection of chips and bits, but it's difficult. morning wears on to afternoon and together, we share his favourite meal - roast fish over an open fire, as i recount many of my past successes to him. he won't understand the gamestation project, so i steer clear of it. i only explain to him that i am working as an engineer now. in much the same way as he always thought i might. he is greatful that i have work. he is greatful that his son has done what he set out to do. "the best part..." i say, skating awfully close to the truth, "is that they let me play some of the games they're making." he just chortles and takes a sip of clear dam water from the glass i pulled from nowhere. it is little things like these, i realize, that are going to be deal-breakers. mister sandakan is going to have to think of ways around this. afternoon wears on and turns to evening. we swim and play silly otter games. pa showing off even in his old age. weight means nothing in water. finally, i get tired enough that he catches me. "and now," he says, grinning, "what shall i do with my catch?" i hesitate with my answer, but i have missed him so much. even if he is just... "lie with me, pa. like we always do," i ask. it is the only thing i want from him. too tired to worry about making a fire the old-fashioned way, i just turn on the prior collection of sticks with the flick of a wrist and then a funny thing happens: "how'd you do that, son?" he asks, as he settles himself on his side, big gut resting before him. i blink at the question. as far as i remember, the entities in the game aren't meant to be aware that it's a game. "i...well..." i stammer over the words, finally settling on the most banal ones i can find. "i used magic, pa." the look he gives me is a surprising one. it is a little bit of disdain mixed with a little bit of humour. "my son the magician?" he asks, as he pats the ground right in front of him. heeding the summons, i scoot over to him, resting my head onto one of his broad arms as he settles behind me. "no." i say, making the lie worse, "just a party trick. a thing i learnt from a friend." "you need to introduce me sometime, son." i nod, digging myself into a deeper little hole. his broad paw strokes up and down my growing belly as he lies there behind me. "you're growing out, too." he comments, his easy laughter ringing in my ears. "not long now before i approach your size," i counter. "it feels good on you, son." he says. i try to thank him, ineffectually, but all i get for my trouble is a muzzle at my ear-hole, sniffing it and lapping at it. one of my weak spots. how does he know all these things? i know how pa knew. once upon a time. when i was nearly nineteen, pa confessed to me that all the time he was with mother didn't matter, because he wasn't like the other otters. he didn't chase lady-tail. he chased men. loved them. only it was frowned upon. well, pa said he'd found my books and looked at them. it looked to him like i had this stuff all sorted out and that i had a clearly natural affinity for older otters and others. he'd seen bear and lion and even an elephant or two in my smut. knowing the whole sorry mess was taboo, he began his learning from me, in the most round-about way i could ever imagine. he would sometimes take one or two of my books and i wouldn't see it again for another three days or so, as he made the beast with a single back into his palm. sometimes the smell of him over-rode the smell of his pipe. pa and i played this really terrible game of chicken, once i discovered he was into men. "eighteen and beyond," was his motto. his other motto was "don't get caught." we walked such a terribly fine line - treading it for something like a year. the reason pa knew where to lick and what to do was because after a year of beating around the bush, he and i finally fell into each other's arms. the first time he slid into me it was exactly like coming home. exactly like knowing where i fit in the grander scheme of things. exactly like being pa's son. it wasn't that there was a lack of prospects - he had been dating an otter about my age for three months and i'd been going steady with a wolf who was nearly fifty years old, but these seemed like...well, like hollow shells of the love we were both seeking. * * *
[twenty six march, two thousand and seven] * * * so, once upon a time, in the real world, pa knew, but here... the warm voice tugs at me, gently. "it's...how did you say it?" he half-asks, half-says. "magic." maybe mister sandakan wasn't kidding when he'd said it, but he'd said it in just that tone where you weren't sure if he was making something up, lying, or just trying to pull the mystical wool over his coding tricks. this wasn't something sandakan had access to, or knew about. my relationship with pa had been so taboo that i'd never mentioned it to anyone. not even my closest friends. sandakan was...a friend, of sorts. a cohort. a fellow codeslinger, but not someone to take into confidence over a secret so great. very slowly, very sensously, pa begins to nuzzle and lick and kiss at my neck - another weak spot. "please..." i beg. "please don't." he keeps rubbing at my belly, gently. i consider squirming away, but i've missed his touch a great deal. and there are definately things i've always wanted to talk to him about... "why did you...?" i start asking the question, but before it is out of my lips, he answers. "because," he says, gently. "i was never really happy. i loved you so much and i could never show it in a way that the world could see and understand. it tore me up inside, thane." "i didn't dissappoint you? i never let you down?" these two questions have been central to my existence since all those years ago. they have been the twin mysteries that have kept me awake nights. long nights that i spent coding. he shakes his head. "you never did." the big paw squeezes my stomach, gently. "it was difficult." and it was. it was so hard to come home and not have him with me. it was dark and cold and lonely. "yes," he says, softly. "and i apologize. i never meant to hurt you. while i hurt - and while it was difficult for me, what i did was senseless." i nod. it is all i can do. "but i am here now." "will you...?" he shakes his head and realizes that i cannot see it and so, he elaborates: "it took quite an amount of strength to create me like this." he says. "in the morning, you will wake up and realize that this is not a good way for a game to be packaged. the magic can sense who you want, and it can bring that person to life for you inside the game. you will wake up and realize that there are other boys like you - boys who have had someone walk out on them. boys who have had brothers who went to war. boys who never knew their mothers. you will recognize that it is too heartbreaking to let those boys go through what you will go through when you turn off the game." i nod again, not sure i can even speak. pa is correct. pa always was. "but i am here now." he adds, gently. "i am here and i want to give you my love one last time." part of me wants to shut the game down, but another part knows, deep inside, that i have needed this. this one last night. this one last conversation. so, shuddering in his grasp, i turn to face pa. "my son." he says, before his lips touch mine. i let myself go. eyes closed as i press my paw against his chest, his body heaving and rolling until it's over me. his paws squeezing around my shoulders as his muzzle finds mine in the dark. fire gone as his body shifts atop of mine. his paws working down my front until he's kneading my belly - and then he does something i remember from so long ago. taking my paws in his, he squeezes. i never want to let go. bringing first one plump fist to my lips and then the other, i kiss each in turn. time stands completely still as we melt into each other. our bodies becoming one as he wraps his legs around mine, his large belly pressing against mine as he seeks out my lips again. kissing, passionately - his tongue finding mine - as our bodies begin to move to a shared beat that only we can hear. rocking over me, i can feel him begin to stiffen even as i feel myself begin to go turgid. how long has it been? i cannot remember. one of his paws let mine go as it snakes it's way down, between my legs. warmth as he wraps it around me. his paw knowing me better than anyone else's before or since. kneeling, he begins to do what i remember so well. his thick fingers beginning to slicken me up for entry - one large paw on my erection, one large paw slowly moving in me, as he readies me. it is all resolving, too fast, into blurred shapes and blurred sounds, but a few seconds later - as he's kneeling behind me and slowly finding his way in, i realize why. i am weeping. "pa..." i say, hoarsely, reaching my paws out for his paws. with infinte kindness, he squeezes against my fingers as he whispers back, "son..." it is the slowest act of love i have ever experienced. he takes his time coming home. coming back to me. by the end of it, he is weeping too - his shuddering body leaning into mine and his lips against my own as his paws encircle the front of my muzzle. another eternity passes as he slowly slides out of me, his large body lying next to mine, one thick arm around my body as we lie together as we once did. his lips against an ear-hole as he whispers: "i am so sorry for what i did. i should never have left you..." i turn to him and take him in my arms. it is all i can do. for once, since all those years ago, i am adrift and completely at peace. my pa has come back and explained exactly why things turned out the way they had. that was all i'd ever wanted. one more day with him. a few hours. a reason for why. i am still sobbing as his paws rock me to sleep, but it is a peaceful sort of sobbing. a redemptive sort of sobbing. * * * the following moring, i awake in his arms. and for the longest while, we lie there, as the sun rises, staring into each other's eyes. in the morning light, he is silver - angelic for an otter. still fat, and still my pa, but angelic. one big paw comes up behind my head and he cradles it to his broad chest. "i never got a chance to say a proper goodbye." i nod. this is true. his lips descend on the top of my head and he kisses me, gently. i find, as much as i don't want to, that i am weeping again. "no more tears." he says, softly, a warm paw cupping my face upwards so i can see him. "i left you once, but never again. and now," he says, looking into my eyes, before he kisses me again, "it is time for you to go. you have a long weekend ahead of you. and sandakan will want to hear your comments." i don't bother to ask how he knows. quietly, i get up and look down at him, one last time. "don't look back," he smiles, "only look forward." with that, i turn around and begin to walk. it is the most difficult thing i have had to do, but he is right. he has given me what he couldn't give me before. pa has made it right. i slide out of the game, feeling disoriented as the real world sets back in. immediately, my eyes turn up to that picture. pa had told me that i was not to weep any more, but i cannot help myself as i drag the stylus over to myself and carve letters into it: "sandakan - what magic you put in must be changed. i just..." i pause for a second and then decide that more-or-less full disclosure is necessary in order for him to understand, but it is such a struggle to write out the words. to make them real. "i just built my father in the simulation and i experienced things that it was not possible to write into the database. it was...emotionally difficult, given that my father committed suicide when i was twenty five. what magic is in there needs to be changed." i press my paw to the stylus, signing it. emotionally worn out, i crawl to my bedroom to try and get more sleep before toying with the gamestation again, when i notice something in the pillows beside me that wasn't there before. it's glint catches the morning light and as i dig through the pillows i find that i know what it is. the heft of it feels familiar. the shape of it seems right. closing my eyes, i slide the pipe between my lips and feel pa around me. arms holding me tight... * * *
[postscript] * * * much of this story came to me in one great, big rush. the part that had little visual cues in my mind - the part that wanted me to write this was the "forming" of characters. the way thane built pa up. all of the things around that - the place thane went to - the fact that i was dealing with a very far-flung future, where some of this technology exists - what happened between thane and his pa - much of that came in slow, glacial pieces surrounding that major "creation" part. going in, i knew i wanted there to be incest and i think, coming out, that it worked out the way i'd planned. sometimes, all the pieces just fall right. and this was one such work. thankyou for those brave souls who chose to read it. * * *