FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Computer proficiency was a new and upcoming skill set, much sought after and desired in a minion of the Underworld. Hell, for all its ancient and wicked traditions, was going digital. Aeons-old creatures in forms not fully comprehensible were squinting at CRT screens and clicking on round, plastic mice, their crispy lips moving as they read such abominable script as: “The following error occurred in saving your changes:

The operation completed successfully.”

They’d mastered runes and sigils, knew languages long since forgotten from the mortal realms and even a few that had never reached there, but they’d be Damned all over again if they knew what that message meant.

Had they saved their changes? Had they not saved their changes? If they clicked on the little ‘X’ in the top right corner, would all their work be lost? It was like a software-based version of Schroedinger’s Cat – existing in a state of saved and not saved until you observed it.

And don’t even get them started on Clippy. This was truly the face of evil; a grinning pixelated paperclip who stuck his beak in every five minutes trying to ‘Help’. With gems like:

‘It looks like you’re trying to bring about the apocalypse.

Would you like help?

. Yes, help me end all life on Earth

. No, give them a few more years

. Don’t show me this again’

It was all part of Downstair’s master plan to send the mortals spiralling into despair, and it was working.

Anar was just as loathe to use Windows 95 as everybody else, but he’d at least had the past experience of programming a VCR and using Teletext. The older creatures didn’t even have that. Some of the keyboards had dent marks from frustrated fists because Ctrl+P didn’t always equal Print when your talons slipped, or the computer announced it couldn’t find the printer, even though it was on the next desk with more wires coming out of it than the telephone exchange.

Some of the demons had found DOOM and promptly lost all interest in academic studies, gleefully shooting up monsters instead.

With all that said, there were certain advantages to being a nerdy, geeky demon. For starters, you stayed in air-conditioned buildings. No wandering the scorching streets, for the admin workers. You had a desk, a chair, and a PC, a water cooler that just might be vodka if you had fun co-workers, and your own ‘Hell’s Worst Demon’ mug.

You wouldn’t be summoned; not unless the demonologist had a particularly nasty cold and uttered your name in error, at least. No reading aloud pages of demonic terms and conditions, before following zany instructions from long-robed idiots with illusions of grandeur and a severe lack of personality.

Admin appealed to Anar. It was the least demonic sector of them all. Almost normal. Everyone suffered in an office workplace, including here Upstairs, and even a full IN tray could only hold so much horror.

He was halfway through his second worksheet when his long, grey ears picked up some interesting conversation. Campus security were sweeping though residentials on the upper storey, investigating a disturbance in the building’s aura.

His long nail hovered over the keyboard as his heart sunk.

Those bloody dinosaurs! Even when they weren’t with him, they were causing trouble…

The Infernal Holy College was a congregation of all things despicable and nefarious; its aura was dark and cloudy, low-grade evil seeped from every crevice and its foundation were thick with the fog of ill-will that had drifted down through the centuries. The only part of it that showed up any different on Security’s monitors was the dividing wall where it touched upon its sister building: the Divine Holy College.

A bright area would suggest Angelic activity, a spy, an intruder, a would-be cleanser of darkness.

Or, it could just be Rap’s collection of Intent-Blessed-Crystals.

The smaller green dinosaur had a knack of swiping pretty things, pocketing them away into his utility skirt that Anar had bought for him from Tammy Girl in the sale. It had more pockets than Rap knew what to do with. Well, almost. As Rap did not have any money of his own, he’d become rather adept at pilfering interesting things, and pretty rocks were a firm favourite. They could be found dotted around the classrooms, useful in conjuring and ambience, harmless on their own in isolation.

Rap had got a whole Quality Street tub full of them, and had blessed them with Good intent, aiming to give off some positive vibes.

Anar scrambled to save his work to floppy disk, ejecting it with a flourish, and he swept out of the technology centre at a quickened pace. Running would get him some unfavourable looks; demons never ran. They oozed. They sauntered. They crept.

He could just picture it now. The door would open to his room and the first thing Security would see was the colourful Nepalese knitted rug that Rap and Rave slept on, that had the Ban the Bomb symbol weaved into it. Then they’d notice the glimmer from all the window catchers that had bits of coloured glass dangling from them, rainbow hues beaming onto the Smiley face poster on the opposite wall. The sofa had inflatable cushions on it, filled with glitter.

The only part of the room that was up to code was Anar’s desk. He had black dribbly candles, a bag of runes, a glass dish with bits of bone (more of Rap’s finds) and a copy of the Necronomicon.

“In a hurry, demon donkey?”

He paused in the hallway. The stairs were only a few more yards away, but someone was standing there, expansive wings out, barbed tail swishing menacingly.

“Bugger off, Alexis,” he frowned, sidestepping to evade the slimy human student.

“No, no, you’re up to something. I just know it. I don’t trust you.”

“Good. Demons aren’t supposed to trust each other. Now move!”

“Make me,” he taunted, reaching for his amulet from inside his shirt.

Anar looked at the black-stoned, filigree-edged pendant and looked to Crowley’s face. Surely, he wouldn’t waste his magic? He was bluffing, right?

Anar slowly reached for Sharon Stone, watching the human’s hazel eyes follow his fingers.

What Crowley missed, while distracted, was Anar’s dominant right-hand curl into a solid fist and in one explosive movement he swung his arm with all his strength, and plowed it right into Crowley’s pointy, stupid nose.

The resulting ‘CRUNCH!” was immediately followed with a shrieking wail worthy of a banshee, a spurt of warm crimson blood, and Crowley crumpled to the marble floor.

Anar’s knuckles stung; the last time he’d landed a punch on anyone was when he’d met Rave, and the dumb reptile had mistaken him for a tasty snack. He didn’t have time to regret his impulsive actions, however, so, shaking his stinging hand along with a sharp intake of breath, he bounded past the groaning Alexis and his chittering familiar, trotting smartly up the steep staircases that led to the student rooms. He rolled his shoulders, shuddering to withdraw his wings and tail, feeling his hair flop back down now the sleek horns were retracted; he didn’t need his stupid extra bits once out of the lecturer’s realm.

Maybe he was wrong? Maybe there really was an angel among them, up to good, shining like a beacon in the pitch black, and it was nothing to do with Rap’s hippy dippy rock collection? Fancy if he’d clonked Alexis one for no good reason?

Nah, he’d had it coming. Every time he’d come near, Anar’s blood had fizzed. Something about that guy rubbed the aardvark the wrong way. He’d ignored it as best he could, trying not to retaliate. Being bullied was a new experience for Anar; he’d been liked back at Millcroft High. Rich kid with the latest everything, whose jokes and charisma made up for his lack of intellect. Now he had a member of demonic royalty for an enemy. Would Alexis cause an uproar? Or was getting thumped by a ‘demon donkey’ too embarrassing to confess to?

One problem at a time. He swept up to his door, hoping the worst-case scenario was bursting in on his pals snogging on the sofa.

There had been a knock at the door. Rave had assumed it was Anar, back from magic lessons, wanting them to follow him to his next study session. He’d not got up from his comfy seat and had instead yelled for Rap to open it.

Rap had been trying to stare at his own backside doing yoga, and had sighed loudly at his boyfriend’s laziness. “What did your last slave die of?” he'd tutted, throwing the big brute a sulky look. “You can come in!” He’d chirped at the door, “we’re decent.”

It had swung open, and they had seen two dark-furred jackals in security jackets wielding spark-staffs standing in the hallway, as surprised to see the dinosaurs, as they were to see them.

Rap had put his skinny, green, scaly arms up high in surrender, meeping in alarm.

Rave had thought about getting up off the sofa, and decided it was too much effort, unless spells were slung at him. “What do you want?” he’d growled at them.

The security jackals had leaned forward, poking their soot hued noses into the room, heads turning left and right, whiskers bristling, their ears pricked in confusion. “We are here to investigate a possible security breach…”

“Oooh, how exciting!” said Rap, lowering his hands. “What kind of breach? Have we got a poltergeist in the closet? It does creak open by itself sometimes.”

“We’re investigating an angelic aura,” explained one of the dogs. He blinked. They were dinosaurs. Angels were good at disguises, but this took the cake.

“Well, come in, come in! Investigate away. Maybe there’s an angel hiding under the bed? Would you like some fruit tea? I’ve got ginger, liquorice, blueberry or mint.”

They came in, big heavy steel toe-capped boots almost tripping on the woven rainbow rug. This was certainly a very suspicious area. Demon students didn’t usually have lava lamps for starters. They opened drawers, peeked under the four-poster bed, and scratched their heads in confoundment.

“Pink wafer?” Rap asked.

They turned round to see the bright green reptile holding a little plate of biscuits. There were two mugs of steaming purplish water on the coffee table by the television.

“Errrr…” they said.

“Go on! Treat yourself. Come and have a sit down. MTV are having a Spice Girls special.”

Rave had finally moved off his backside and closed the door, keeping the heat in. He wasn’t particularly pleased that they had uninvited guests, but if Rap was good at anything, it was making people feel welcome and at ease.

They mumbled about a bright aura, munching and dropping crumbs.

“Ohhh, I was trying to cleanse the air a bit, put some positivity in the room, you know? Good vibes.”

The jackals looked at each other. “That would certainly explain it. It is… nice, in here. Bright. Happy.”

Rap grinned, taking what they were saying as high praise. “I can read your tarot if you like. Align your chakras? What are your star signs?”

Before the security dogs quite knew what had happened, they had squeezed in on the leather sofa, between the dinosaurs and glittery plastic cushions, sipping liquorice tea and nodding while being told mercury was in retrograde, and they shouldn’t be making any rash decisions for at least another week. The smaller of the two lizards stared at their paw pads, frowning, not liking what he saw.

“You’re full of negative energy,” he announced.

“They’re freakin’ security guards!” Rave hissed over at him. “Of ‘course they’re bleedin’ negative!”

“It’s that oppressive uniform! You need some tie-dye in your lives, let me see what I’ve got. Get those horrible jackets off. All those evil symbols and things, they’re no good for you!”

The jackals pulled bright, swirled cotton tunics over their fluffy heads and wagged their bushy tails. The funny fella was right, they did feel better in tie-dye. They allowed him to direct them in some light meditation, while MTV gently played pop music, the faint aroma of lavender filling the room from an oil burner. Peace and tranquility had entered their lives for the first time in untold seasons, and it was wonderful.

Anar reached the door, huffing and panting. He’d paid for a diet of Coke and Wotsits, he wouldn’t need to pass through the Abyssal Gate to reach the Underworld; he’d have a heart attack in about sixty seconds, instead, after those stairs! The aroma of lavender reached his large nostrils, and the sound of Wannabe by the Spice Girls reached his long ears. All seemed calm. But he was fizzing. For a moment he thought maybe this was just how he would be from now on, having a constant tingle from being surrounded by magic, but then he gave the thick door a shove, and slowly opened his mouth at the bizarre sight in front of him.

In between Rap and Rave, squashed but content on the seat, were two adult dog-boys in security garb in all but their top halves. They had the big boots, the navy-blue cargo trousers with the large thigh pockets, and the spark-staffs that were standard issue. But they also had Rap’s tie-dye t-shirts on, and one was wearing a flower hairband from Bow Bangles.

“Um?” he asked, waving his grey hands at the guests.

“We had a bright aura,” smiled Rap, “isn’t that nice?”

Anar’s eyes widened, “No? That’s actually kinda bad?”

“We’d better be going…” the jackals mumbled, getting up.

“We’re not in trouble, though, are we?” Rave asked, showing teeth.

“No! No, you’re fine. Must be a leak from the Divine side. There’s nothing to investigate here. Carry on, mister Warlock” they nodded to Anar. “It was lovely to meet you guys.”

Rap picked up their jackets, escorting them out into the hallway, “remember to breathe, and stretch, and focus on your inner eye,” he waved as they clomped down towards the stairs.

He returned to the room, “cup of tea, Anar?”

The aardvark rubbed his temples, feeling as though they’d all narrowly avoided disaster by some stroke of immense luck. “Do you have any coffee flavoured tea?”

“Very funny. Sit down, mate, you look exhausted, what was the hurry?”

“Oh, you know, I had this awful feeling security were going to lose their shit over your blessed crystals…”

Rave snorted a laugh, but said nothing, turning up the volume on the TV.