FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"Do you need me to go over the plan again?" After entering the mayor's residence, the guard led us to a secluded corner of the front garden and left, leaving us to wait for the house servants to come and show us the way. I took advantage of this moment of privacy and confirmed the details with 74258 once more.

"Infect the drones in the mayor's private estate, infiltrate the civil registry system through a repair request, sign the death certificate, issue the movement permits," 74258 said softly. "Then erase all the records and log out without anyone noticing."

Red Fox's tone made the mission sound incredibly simple. But I knew his capabilities, so it wasn’t hard to understand where that confidence came from. All I had to do was handle my part and keep the drone system running smoothly. Meanwhile, 74258 had to complete a series of highly complex operations in the control room, surrounded by countless eyes watching every move. Originally, I was supposed to handle this when Adam and I planned it, but 74258 was clearly more suited for the task.

This filled me with immense guilt because if things went wrong, there was absolutely no way for him to escape.

So, I wanted to say something, just in case the worst happened, and make this our last conversation. But just as I mustered the courage to speak, a greyhound of indistinguishable breed came out of the servant’s passage. I could only close my mouth, swallowing back all the unspoken words.

The greyhound didn't make a sound, just gestured for us to follow with an expressionless face.

As we approached, the lights in the passage turned on one by one, clearly illuminating the red brick walls. You don’t often see houses built with this kind of material anymore, so the mayor was either a nostalgic person or one of those pretentious types who wanted everyone to believe he had good taste.

We stopped at a junction, where the greyhound pointed in one direction, explaining that it led to the estate’s planting area. Before I turned to leave, I nodded at 74258, signaling my confidence in him. Red Fox's lips curled slightly, and he gave a little twitch of his ears.

Was I the one being reassured?

As I walked toward the bright spot at the end of the passage, I reflected on why I had ever thought 74258 was weak. Maybe strength came in many more forms than I had imagined—I just hadn’t recognized it.

Stepping out of the servant's passage and back into the outdoors, I felt like I had entered a completely different place.

As far as the eye could see, the trellises were laden with grapevines, with clusters of grapes hanging heavily. Some were a translucent green, others a deep, mysterious purple, all so full and ripe they looked like they were about to drag the plants down.

It seemed the irrigation system had just been activated, as many leaves were still dotted with droplets of water, sparkling like they were glowing from the right angle.

Not a speck of dust anywhere.

Why?

I looked up and noticed a pale blue membrane above, stretching out in all directions, covering the entire planting area of the estate.

I had heard of something like this before—a special material that used static electricity to trap dust. Only the wealthy could afford such a luxury. Clearly, the crops cultivated here were high-end enough to justify such an extravagant expenditure of credit points.

I found the metal tracks on the ground, used to operate the platforms, and followed the standard planning layout toward the central workstation. But before I had taken a few steps, something else caught my attention.

It was... flowers. Clusters of bushes resembling low hedges were blooming with large, vibrant double blooms. Every few rows of trellises, there would be a small patch of this plant growing. Although each cluster bore flowers of different colors, their shapes were all flamboyant, like tongues of flame spreading wildly, out of control.

I had never seen such plants before, and the small scale of cultivation suggested they weren’t the estate’s primary product. Then I noticed the bushes, with their massive flowers, were all covered in thick, sharp thorns, leading me to conclude they were planted as some kind of hedge.

But if that were the case, why weren't the bushes planted in a continuous line? How would they protect the main crops? If they didn’t serve a practical purpose and only competed for resources in the soil, why plant them at all?

Before entering the central workstation, I took one last look at the unfamiliar bushes, finally accepting that perhaps the whims of the wealthy were beyond the reach of my modest imagination.

The plan was executed very smoothly.

Even better than expected, none of the estate’s staff showed any interest in our work. The drones were managed by an aging weasel who said he considered himself more of a gardener, and the estate had never hired a professional fox engineer. Even the guards seemed lazy yet friendly. The only time they showed any aggression was during afternoon tea when they fought over freshly delivered scones.

It only took me a few seconds to clear the previously released virus, then I maintained the connection between the drones and the system, allowing 74258 to start the performance.

All the work was completed in a situation that felt oddly unreal.

I don’t mean to complain, but it was surprisingly simple.

“Hey, going smoothly?” I asked the red fox who had just sat down next to me.

“Very smoothly.” He glanced around to ensure no one would overhear us. “They even left me alone in the control center, and they weren’t monitoring my terminal.”

I shrugged at 74258, not opposed in the least to having some good luck for once.

“So do you know why we’re still here?” He shifted uneasily in his chair, watching the servants set some utensils in front of us.

“Apparently, the mayor wants to express his gratitude.” At least that’s what the butler had told me. “After all, we ‘fixed’ his drones.”

74258 rolled his eyes dramatically as I emphasized the word “fixed,” then nudged me in the side with his elbow. I stifled a laugh, pretending to be deeply interested in the fruit that had just been placed beside me.

Gradually, more small wooden platters were laid out, holding various cheeses and breads, most of which I couldn’t name. Some with odd colors and spots smelled overwhelmingly strong, but 74258 seemed eager to try them.

“I apologize for my tardiness, caught up in the bureaucratic grind.” A Labrador in a bright blue suit said as he smoothly pulled out a chair for himself and sat down with the air of someone who owned the place, wearing the breed’s characteristic smile. “Please, don’t be reserved, this is just a small token of appreciation.” He gestured toward the table full of fruit and cheeses, and took a glass bottle from a temperature-controlled bucket. “A ’48 Pittsburgh pairs perfectly with Brie,” the Labrador said, prying off the wax seal with his nails. After uncorking the bottle, he examined the cork and even sniffed it a few times before pouring us wine.

The clear, deep purple liquid swirled into the glasses, forming tiny whirlpools with barely any bubbles. The Labrador poured himself a glass as well, casually holding the stem with three fingers, swirling the wine, and bringing it to his nose with a satisfied smile.

“To science,” he raised his glass to his brow, “and to the skilled engineers.”

I had no interest in acting overly impressed by his pretentiousness. I’d seen enough of these elites who love to maintain a free and open image. They all think that a small favor makes them saintly. Screw them. Where were you when we were being slaughtered? “This is the lord's prerogative,” I could imagine this Labrador sighing, dabbing his expensive wine in a fine glass, and offering some eloquent lamentation as if shedding tears for his helplessness.

74258 played along and raised his glass to toast. I didn’t want to jeopardize the mission that had gone so smoothly, so I mimicked the Labrador’s gesture and took a sip.

No matter how hypocritical and annoying this pedigree could be, the ’48 Pittsburgh was astonishing. It felt like... being bathed in the bright midday sun of summer, with the sound of insects and the rustling of leaves in the warm wind.

“Try it with the cheese,” the Labrador suggested, a small smile playing on his lips. “It’ll elevate the flavor to another level.”

I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me enjoy it, but for politeness' sake, I followed his suggestion.

Rationalism save me... this is too delicious, like something that could only exist in fantasy.

I forced myself not to show any reaction, but apparently, my expression betrayed me because the Labrador’s smile deepened.

“Food synthesizers are indeed convenient and remarkable, but unfortunately, they make us forget that miracles do exist,” he said, leaning back in his chair, sipping his wine. “Sometimes, we all need a little reminder.”

After that, the mayor didn’t say much, quietly observing us, refilling our glasses when necessary, and offering pairing suggestions.

I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pity for myself, but I was too engrossed in the sensory feast to care. That was until the servants brought out a new wooden platter, this one holding diced fruit wrapped in cured ham. I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, feeling a wave of nausea.

“It’s not what you think,” the Labrador chuckled, making a gesture of apology. “The Parma ham is, of course, synthesized,” I averted my gaze awkwardly, feeling my ears heat up. “We’re not that barbaric.”

Whether it was just a misunderstanding or not, my appetite had completely vanished. So I put down my utensils and wiped my mouth with the napkin.

74258 didn’t seem fazed at all and continued to eat with gusto, as if determined to taste every type of cheese.

I turned my head, letting my gaze drift toward the hills surrounding the estate. The mansion sat atop a small hill, and from our position on the terrace, we had a clear view of the entire cultivation area. Although I had already seen it in general before, the view from this vantage point did feel a bit different.

Two different colored grapes occupied roughly half the area each, with occasional clusters of spherical fruit hanging from the sprawling vines. Dragonfly drones flitted through the air, scanning the colors to check for abnormalities or determine the ripeness of the crops. Along the metal tracks of the platform, matching my earlier observations, small sections of hedge-like shrubs appeared at regular intervals, their purpose still unclear. In the distance, at the far edge of the estate, a row of conical trees planted in a band formed a windbreak to protect the crops.

“What do you think of the estate?” the Labrador asked from behind me.

“It’s wonderful, Sir.” That’s probably why you don’t live in the city—who could resist the desire to have such a vast field all to themselves? “I’m sure the estate is well-managed.”

“Do you know how to tell if an estate is well-run?” His tone suggested genuine interest in the topic. Rationalism save me, I was just making polite conversation! These annoying dogs, licking their own butt hole...

“The standard for a territory is generally its yield,” I turned back to face him, trying not to glare at the self-satisfied Labrador. “Mayor.”

“Yield is indeed important, but it doesn’t reflect the full picture,” the Labrador said, setting down his glass.

Great, now he’s going to put on that profound expression and start lecturing us with some mystical, cryptic wisdom, isn’t he? I could barely restrain myself from rolling my eyes, forcing myself to look interested.

“The key to assessing whether an estate is running well lies in the condition of the roses,” the Labrador said, gesturing toward the hedges with his gaze.

“The… hedge?” It sounded like the prelude to some esoteric philosophy, but mentioning those thorny shrubs piqued my curiosity. “Are you saying that the strength of the protective hedge is the true measure of the estate’s condition?”

The Labrador shook his head lightly. Rationalism save me, I wanted to punch that smug, smiling face so badly.

“Hedge?” 74258 chimed in, though he didn’t stop eating, spearing another slice of melon-wrapped Parma ham. “I thought it was just ornamental.”

I shot 74258 a confused look, unsure of what he meant.

“Flowers.” The red fox turned his head, glancing at the distant plants. “I think those flowers are beautiful.”

I turned back, trying to see things from 74258’s perspective. Yes, they didn’t seem to serve much purpose, but… I could understand. The flowers were indeed quite pretty.

“I, too, find roses very beautiful,” the Labrador said, bringing my attention back to him. “But in this context, beauty isn’t the point.” He glanced between 74258 and me. “It’s because roses are fragile.”

Although I had expected some abstract reasoning, this was still a bit much.

“Are you saying the estate shows off by growing fragile, non-practical plants, flaunting its ability to afford such meaningless costs, which proves it’s well-managed?” I couldn’t hold back the skeptical tone in my voice, which caused the mayor to raise his right eyebrow.

"I apologize. I thought you would understand." The Labrador made the apologetic gesture once again. I swear, if he repeated that motion one more time, my fist would land on his face without any apology. "Because roses are more delicate, any pest or disease that attacks the estate will first show up on the roses before it escalates into an uncontrollable disaster," he said seriously, placing both hands on the table. "So, if you want to know if something’s wrong, all you need to do is observe the weakest, most vulnerable group, and you’ll spot the signs."

I squinted slightly, trying to read his thoughts through his brown eyes.

"A qualified manager should know that the first priority of running an estate is to make the roses bloom." Just when I thought I saw something, the Labrador immediately replaced it with that smiling expression again and leaned back in his chair.

Was he hinting at something?

Labradors are always smiling, but are they truly smiling?

Suddenly, I had a bad feeling.

I glanced at 74258, hoping to gauge the red fox's opinion. But my accomplice was far too engrossed in the feast to offer me any insight.

"You’ll probably be leaving soon, won’t you?" the Labrador asked as he thanked the servant who had just approached him, receiving another glass bottle of wine. "But before you go, try my favorite—74’s Green Katydid." The mayor opened the bottle once more and poured us some wine. "The wine from this estate is sent to mature in the cellars of Little Rock after it's barreled, as the climate there is more suitable. But more importantly, it’s because the area has excellent transport links, allowing the product to be distributed to its destinations via railroads heading north." The Labrador clinked his glass with ours and then downed his wine in one gulp. "Thank you again for 'fixing' my drones."

As the mansion's servants escorted us out of the estate, I still couldn’t be sure if I had caught a fleeting glimpse of a sly smile in those brown eyes.