familiar
by Falsum_Anon

Rain is hammering against your window, and the occasional flash of lightning illuminates your room.
Fuck that's a big storm.
You reach down to flick on your tiny space heater, and it whirrs to life with an orange glow.
Feet beginning to warm, you return your attention to the laptop on your desk. It's a lazy Thursday evening, and you're spending it in your favorite way: browsing a certain Hungarian benchmaking forum. You're lazily scrolling one of the threads you call home, when the local news anchor, talking away on the tv across the room, does something unexpected:
She says something that might matter to you.
"...outages occuring randomly in district 1. Officials say a transformer was struck by lightning, and citizens are reminded to avoid bathing at this time. The power is expected to come back on at..."
Uh oh, your autism senses are tingling fierce. Did you leave a machine running a job somewhere in the apartment? No, that's not it.
You look back at the anthro snow-leapord news anchor, and the map of district one floating next to her head.
idea.png
Swiveling your chair back towards the laptop, you pull up a map of the power grid in district one and compare it to the map on the news.
The power is out in sectors 2, 3, 5, 7, and 11.
Hm. Either this lightning is as autistic as you are, or someone is fucking with the grid. But if there was a system test happening, wouldn't it be reported? Does the news station not know about it? 
Doesn't make sense, but it's probably unimportant after all. With a loud sigh and a stretch, you get up out of your chair.
Lightning isn't going to strike your building, but better be safe anyway. Walking around your dark apartment, you unplug all your various appliances and machines.
The handful of computers sitting around.
Your few light fixtures.
And most importantly, your beloved coffee machine.
After you're done, you stand in the kitchenette and listen to the silence for a minute. Nothing's humming or whirring, it's just you and the rain.
Weird. But kinda nice. Maybe this is what life used to be like, before everything was digital.

With another sigh, you plod back to your bedroom, your earlier conversation with your boss running through your head.
"But sir, I still don't understand why..."
"Shut it Anon" speaks the holographic wolf head on your desk. "For the last time, I want you there tomorrow."
"It's business execs, coming to negotiate a contract, not talk about the software" you try earnestly "having your infosec guy there isn't going to add anything."
Your boss sighs, and you can hear a little bit of compression in the audio feed. His image flickers slightly. Sure, it wasn't one of the newer comms, but you liked this one because you could mod the hell out of it. You knew no one was spying on you though that thing.
"Look, Anon" he says, calmly. Wow, those classes have really been helping him. "I get it. You really don't want to come in, and most of the time I don't care. You're good enough that I can ignore it. But it's an image thing. If they see you, present and well-dressed, able to give snappy answers to whatever dumb questions they might want to throw at you, I promise you it will help."
He pauses, and locks eyes with you.
"And don't tell anyone I said this, but with the numbers at stake, if this goes through there could be a round of bonuses in the pipeline."
You look towards the ground. There probably wasn't any getting out of this one. Mr. Kenneth Longfur could be a goddamn brick wall when he wanted to. Probably some kind of alpha wolf thing. And honestly, his point was starting to make sense. Making sense was an excellent way to get through to you.
You look back up at him.
"Well sir, you've got me. I'll be there tomorrow."
He sighs, almost as though he was expecting more of a fight.
"Glad to hear it Anon, over and out."
The feed snaps closed, and the green hologram is sucked back into your pocket communicator.
Truth be told, the money didn't matter much to you. You had no debt, your bills were paid, and this place was pretty decent.
But there was no way you'd tell your boss that, of course.
Looks like you're going to have to go out and make small talk with coworkers tomorrow.
Fuck.

You finish your reminiscing as you enter your room. It's still dark in here, there's no light except the glow of neon signs creeping in though the drape. Still, you know where everything is. Single bed up against the left wall, computer desk up against the right. Tiny window, set into the middle wall.
With the heater unplugged, it's starting to get chilly in here. You quickly strip down and slide into bed. 

This is the worst part.
No screens, pages, or even another person to distract you. Just Anon and his thoughts.
You don't like Anon's thoughts.
Your brain had a good mix ready for you tonight, on the playlist were such classics as "you could be doing more with your life", "oh god why am I so empty did I always feel this way how do I stop it", and your personal favorite, "if I have to spend another night alone in this bed I'm going to hang myself but somehow at the same time I hate everyone except maybe..."
Fortunately, you were pretty tired tonight. With merciful quickness, each individual thought lost it's distinctive edge, everything bled together like a watercolor painting, and Anon was asleep.


"Mmmmugh"
You roll from your left to your right, and sit up in bed. The last dregs of some weird dream swirl around in your head, something about your boss.
Oh fuck, your alarm didn't go off. The list of appliances you unplugged last night included your alarm clock, which now sat lifelessly on your desk. With the speed of a man with something to lose, you bolt out of bed and check your comm.
08:33. You've got 27 minutes to make it to work.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck" you repeat to yourself, racing to pull on a set of decent clothes. Maybe if you skip the shower, and breakfast, you can still make...
Nope. You can see the 32 pull up to your stop from here. With no one waiting, the bus simply rushes past the sad, empty bench which should have you on it right now.
"FUCK, fuck, fuck" you continue, finishing the last button on your shirt and pulling on a jacket. You pocket your keys, wallet, and comm before running to the door...
Only to stop in your tracks, and spin around back to your room. After rolling some deodorant onto yourself (would your coworkers be able to tell you hadn't showered?) you're out the door, down the stairs, and running on the sidewalk towards Piecewise Solutions.

It's 09:08 when you finally stumble though the automatic glass door into an empty lobby. You're gasping for air, and sweating like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee, but you're here. With a self-satisfied grunt, you make your way over to the human water fountain and start drinking greedily.
"Oh, hi Anon!" you hear. It's enough to break your water-guzzling trance, and you look over your shoulder. You've been addressed by Martha, the anthro fox who works the reception desk.
You stare at her for a moment. Then, because there's no way around it, you swallow the mouthful of water you've been holding. It's painfully loud in the silence of the lobby.
She chuckles,
"Geez Anon, did you just run a marathon or something?"
"Haha, no, I wish." Great, real smooth. "Missed the bus this morning."
"Oh, so you ran all the way here?" She asks, stepping out from behind the desk.
She's about your height, and pretty slender. There's a cute black dress hugging her frame and it goes wonderfully with her red fur, there's a good reason why she's running reception. Why didn't you see her when you ran in? Maybe she was bent down or something? You immediately regret thinking that, trying to shoo away the image of Martha bending over.
"Yeah, the boss wanted me to come in today" you reply. She's walked up to the little waiting area where the fountain is, and plopped down into one of the comfy grey chairs.
"Ooh, sounds imporant" Martha says. She looks pretty relaxed in that chair, arms draped over the armrests.
"Nah, he just wants my face there for a meeting today. Nothing major."
"He dragged you out of your lair for that?" She's smiling at you.
Oof. But she actually looks happy. You try to decide between rolling with it, or jabbing back.
You concede. Today isn't a fighting kind of day.
"Hah, yeah." You shrug "It was important enough to risk me going up in flames in the sunlight."
She chuckles again, and stands back up.
"Well, I won't keep you then. Meeting starts in 3 minutes after all."
Holy shit, it's 09:12. Your eyes widen, and you run for the stairs.
"You should come in more often, Anon." She says, idly walking back to the desk. "Oh, and there's some scent mask in the break room. Put some on before you go."
Fuck.
"Thanks Martha!" You yell, starting upwards.

09:14. You stop running just as you get in view of the sleek, sterile conference room, and walk through the door with your best business stroll. An expression of relief flashes across Longfur's face as you take your seat towards the back of the room, and he gives you a little nod. There's only seven mammals in here, weird.
You shift your chair in towards the table, and wince as one of it's wheels makes a hideous screech across the floor. Expecting a harsh glance, you look around at the various suits, but no one turns to look at you. There's no idle chit chat. Everyone is looking at the table, off into the distance, or at their comm. How long have they been sitting like this?
Alright, this is creepy. Under the table, you count off your fingers to check if you're dreaming.
Nope.
Through a window, you notice a digital clock tick to 9:15. At the very same second, the large anthro cheetah sitting at the front of the room checks his watch. The motion is eerily mechanical in it's precision. It's almost like he... rehearsed it. With the same efficient fluidity, he stands up, straightens his tie, and walks to the lage holoscreen covering the front wall.
The windows of the conference room, controlled electonically, fade to opaque black. The cheetah clears his throat.
"Gentlemen, I believe we may begin."

"I understand there are some among us who have not signed an non-disclosure agreement."
He stares at you, coldly. Your boss is wearing a look you've never seen on him before: guilt.
"I'm sorry, Anon. I knew that you wouldn't come if I said anything about an NDA. And you really need to be here."
Holy shit, Longfur lied to you. You've known him to be stubborn, ruthless, persistent...
But never a liar.
Fuck this. No one is allowed to take advantage of you. You stand up to leave, chair screaming at you again.
You're stopped by a paw on your forearm. Anthro rabbit Robin Hopps, chief technical officer, is giving you a pleading look.
"Anon, please listen to what they've got to say. This isn't like anything we've done, or even heard of, before."
Wordlessly, you stare back at Robin. You withdraw you arm from his hold and move towards the door.
The three people you know in this room all look to be a mix of terrified and angry. But no one says anything as your footsteps echo though the otherwise silent conference room.
Then the cheetah speaks up again.
"We have a working neural interface chip."
You freeze.
That was a lie. There is no way in any hell that anyone could have made that pipe dream a reality.
But the faces of your coworkers are enough to shake your doubts.
Before you can move again the cheetah picks up a carefully-aligned document and clipboard, delivers it into your hands, and pulls a pen out of his breast pocket.
"That information was a token of trust, and respect. I understand that you are the same Anon who first discovered the 'Earthquake' vulnerability three years ago."
That little accident had been your ticket to international fame. Well, at least in the circle of people who read about cache vulnerabilities in new QCPU's.
Okay, maybe not that much fame. But it was enough for excellent job security.
"If you want to know more you will have to sign, or wait until public release. I am not willing to wait for Mr. Longfur to find a more cooperative head of information security."
You count off the fingers on your free hand behind your back. Definitely not dreaming.
Your curiosity is at war with your idealism. If this is true, and it looks like it actually might be, it will be the biggest technical revolution in decades. But these guys feel like creeps, and signing away your right to say anything is not something you take lightly.
The room is frozen, waiting for you to do something about the pen you're being offered.
It is in this moment, and of course it's this moment, that you notice a section of window spazzing out across the room. It's a small square, only an inch across, and it's blinking between natural transparency and electronically enforced opaqueness. But that's not what captured your attention.
2 blinks, 3 blinks, 5, 7, 11,... 2, 3, 5, 7, 11,...
The cheetah clears his throat, nodding at the pen.
You need to know what's going on.
Deliberately, you pluck it from his grasp, and sign on the dotted line.

You return to your seat, and the cheetah walks back to his place in front of the display. A 3D rendering of a complex-looking circuit diagram emerges, rotating slowly over the table.
"I won't waste any time. The purpose of this meeting is to ensure that all the most relevant parties are up to speed regarding the upcoming partnership between you, 'Piecewise Solutions', and the firm I represent, 'Accumulation Incoropoated'.
He scans the room, looking for anyone daring not to pay attention. Seemingly satisfied, he continues.
You are to, within two years; design, implement, and thoroughly test a crucial firmware module for our upcoming release. The world's first neural interface chip.
The rest of the meeting is spent going over specifics of the new technology and the software you're going to build for it.
You can't believe this. They aren't bullshitting. In a few years time, the world at large is going to see real working neural chips.
Not one of the hundreds of shitty, dangerous attempts that surfaced every few weeks. Cobbled-together messes made by mammals looking to exploit the gullible, that either killed the user outright or left them with a horrible nervous disease.
Mammalia had spent decades inventing and refining new ways to connect the digital world of machines to the analog circuitry of a nervous system.
Better screens. Better audio. Better VR headsets.
But this was on a new plane all it's own. The ability to allow direct interface between brain and computer. To pipe sensory experience and raw thought back to and from a machine... it would be incredible.
Of course, security was an immediate concern. The limits of the technology were still unknown, and natural worries arose. What would an attacker be able to do to a user's brain, if they had full access?
Your job for the next two years, it seemed, would be to research this new field of vulnerability.
Being on the forefront of such a development was thrilling.
And yet, something about this made you sad. There was a certain security you took in the knowledge that brains were still untouchable by the advance of technology. A kind of comfortable surrender to the reality that you were an isolated blob in the universe, your thoughts and memories only fully knowable to you.
How much of that was going to change? Of course, you specifically wouldn't have to get a chip in your skull. All the same, you felt like something was being lost.
Not to mention, the idea of a private company having access to this kind of power. There were already strong connections between 'Accumulation inc.' and the military, who were very interested in the development of a real neural chip.
"Further details have been emailed to you all. We will speak again shortly, and I hope for a long and prosperous collaboration."
The cheetah performs a short bow, gathers his materials, and his colleages all file out the door in line behind him. It's just you and your coworkers in the room now.

Longfur is the first to speak
"I would like to appologize again, Anon. I was under a lot of pressure to get you in on short notice, and given the... unique nature of your employment with us,"
"No, it's alright sir. I understand." You say.
All you want in this moment is for everyone else to fuck off so you can finally look at that window.

It's an eternity before the excited chatting among your coworkers dies down, and they leave one-by-one.
Finally, the room is yours. You rush to the window. By standing on the very tips of your toes you can just barely flip open the little access panel, right above the glitching square.
Bingo. A foreign chip has been taped onto the window controller, and wired up to cause the periodic blinking. You rip it out, and the square settles back into opaqueness.
Hm, doesn't look like there's anything interesting on the bug itself.
The thrill of the chase has infected you. Running back to the table, you pull your laptop from your bag and open it up. After a quick sign-in, you're browsing the Piecewise Solutions security footage center.
You ask the intelligent search bot to look for 'slightly anomalous' activity in this conference room. There's a system in place to email you when anything extremely weird happens, but it hasn't gone off for a while.
The bot returns an error.
You try the query again.
Another error.
Odd. You open up the database itself, you'll watch every scrap of footage manually if it means finding whoever put that bug there.
The reason for the errors is immediately apparent, there's nothing from yesterday. Not a single file from any camera in or on the building. The bot was supposed to notify you about weird footage, you had never considered a weird lack of footage.
Instead, where gigs of video should be, there is a single file:

familiar.mp3

You stare at the screen in silence. Right up until this moment, a part of you had been hopeful that there was actually some astronomical coincidence going on. Now the truth was undeniable; someone was fucking with you. Someone who could spell out a sequence in the city's power grid, and dance past your prized defences.
And you hadn't even had the slightest suspicion that something was wrong.
Opening it on your laptop would be stupid. Instead, you copy the file onto a usb, which you quickly unplug and stuff in your pocket. You're going to have to write a report to your boss, and you're going to find out what happened.
But before you do anything else, you're going to listen to that file.
You hurry down the stairs, back into the reception area. There's a couple anthros hanging around now, but you run past them and out the door.
Martha looks a little sad. She gives you a wave as you leave.
The bus home has never felt slower, but you're here. You dig through your closet furiously, you're sure you left it...
Aha! Here it is. An old 2020's laptop you keep around for nostalgia's sake. The thing can't even connect to the internet anymore, which is exactly what you want right now. In seconds, you've booted it up, slammed in the USB, and hovered your cursor over the litte icon.
You take a deep breath. In and out. And open the file.
A digitally distorted voice fills your bedroom. It's hard to tell, but though the robotic effect, it sounds feminine.
Shit. This whole time you had been imagining it was a guy who hacked you.

"Hello Anon." She says. "My name is familiar."

You sit on your bedroom floor cross-legged, as the robotic voice continues.
"I need your help. Can't say everything here, check your mailbox. Just needed to get your attention, you're hard to contact."
That wasn't wrong. Your number, email, and address were very private, since your reputation in the security community merited a lot of pestering from dumb kiddies.
"Hope to see you soon, Anon."
The message ends. You're going to wipe the laptop to be sure, but just for fun you get your custom malware scanner chewing on it.
Three hours later, and you've typed up a full report to Longfur. From the various logs, it looks like she used some idiot's bad password ('passworDrowssap11!', honestly) and an obscure vulnerability in the login system used by the company you worked for. That was how she fucked with the database anyway, you're not sure how the break-in was accomplished. The cursor blinks, as you stare at the screen for your final proofread.
You get to the section on 'familiar.mp3'.
Christ, what a weird situation. There was some competent cracker out there who wanted your attention, and apparently your help. That had to be bait, right?
But that voice sounded so sincere. Maybe that was why 'familiar' had sent you a recording instead of a .txt.
What kind of name was that? 'familiar'. You knew a couple of the current big names, and 'familiar' wasn't one of them. But the shit she got away with made you feel like you should have known her.
Hah, funny. "Should have known her."
Your eyes flick back to the section detailing the contents of the file. There had been a note in your mailbox, telling you to come to a campground an hour's drive out of town at 22:00 this Saturday. 
But that wasn't the scary part.
Along with the note was a handful of pictures and documents from Accumulation Incoporated. Nothing directly incriminating, but they made your stomach turn.
A memo, mentioning "phase three" of the "neural chip program." There was nothing about a phase three, or even a two, mentioned at the meeting.
A picture of the project logo, but altered to include a military insignia. Probably nothing wrong with that, you knew about military interest already. But 'interest' and 'active involvelemt' were were very different things.
But the part that was going to keep you up tonight was a letter at the back of the bundle, printed on the letterhead of the cheetah you had the pleasure of meeting earlier today.

"I assure you that the deal will go through on schedule. The idiot Longfur is apparently having 'a difficult time bringing all his employees to [my] initial briefing.' If I were forced to guess, I would say the difficulty probably lies with our troublesome friend Mr. Anon, who we know to be something of an eccentric employee. Of course, I understand why you want him on board so badly, but I loathe to think of the effort it will take to train him. That said, I will do my best to get him in line as soon as possible.

Faithfully yours,

-Casimir"

You look back at your report, with details on the audio file, and all the documents you were given.
Highlighting the entire section, you hit bacspace, and replace it with a quick "no files were found in the directory, and nothing is known about the perpetrator(s) at this time."

Holy shit. Holy shit, that was super illegal. Your ass is definitely getting fired. Why in the hells did you do that?
Because I can't trust anyone now.
You don't know that! Holy shit man, you just got conned hard. 'familiar' has you now.
Good. Better her than whoever wants to "train me".
You don't know that! You don't even know if 'familiar' is actually a chick!
The laptop sits on the floor, innocently unaware of the shitstorm you've just launched through it. Then, unthinkingly, you get up and start rummaging through your closet for some casual clothes. It's a habit. When you feel like your head is going to explode, you go to your favourite little hole-in-the-wall cafe two blocks down. The walk is good fresh air, and Claire can make a Philly Cheese Steak sandwich that would make anyone forget their problems.
You fling on your hoodie, stuff your comm in the pocket, and you're off.
Within minues, the sign for "Cassie's Place" is in view. The faded red door jingles a little bell as you enter.
As usual, there's no one in here. The small cafe is filled with an assortment of worn, but very clean, retro furniture. It doesn't make any sense, Claire is such a miracle in the kitchen that you'd expect a line right through the door.
And right on cue, the panther herself walks out behind the counter. A huge smile fills her face as she sees you.
"Anon! It's been too long!" She says, striding over to you. In seconds, you're lifted up into a very soft, warm, tight hug.
You forgot how strong she was.
"Uh Claire" you say into her chest.
She puts you down, and huffs a little.
"I don't care if it's weird for anthros to hug humans, Anon. Besides," she gestures around at the tables "it's not like anyone's here to judge anyway!"
"I'll never understand why this place isn't packed, you're the best cook in the city."
She smiles again.
"Thank you." Then, she adopts a serious look and stands up straignt.
"The usual, then?"
"Aye aye."
She gives you a two fingered salute and a little wink, before whisking off into the kitchen.
You can't help but smile as you head over to the fridge full of pop.
Weird, it's full of nothing but Dr. Pepper.
...
You'll drink water today.

As usual, your spot by the back corner is unoccupied. You sit on the vinyl bench, and pull out your comm.
Nothing yet. Maybe Longfur just hasn't seen your email.
If you close your eyes, listen to the happy whistling coming from the kitchen, and pretend reeeeally hard, it's almost like you're not completely screwed right now.
There's not much time to feel sorry for yourself though. Pretty soon, Claire is sauntering over to your table with two plates in paw. She lays two Philly Cheese Steak sandwiches on the table, and sits across from you.
"What's got you Anon?"
Yeah, she could always tell.
"Problems at work."
"Oh." Her ears fold back. "Anything you can talk about?"
"I'm sorry, but no." You say, mostly to the table. You look up, into her big yellow eyes. "I just feel really scared and overwhelmed right now. Something big just happened, and I'm not sure where it goes from here."
She puts a paw on your shoulder, and offers a sympathetic look.
You probably wouldn't have noticed it, except for the fact that she's really close to you right now. But just for a moment, her expression showed something more than just friendly sympathy. It was like, for a moment, she felt exactly like you did.

"You know I'm here for you if you need me." She says, not breaking eye contact. With a little squeeze, she withdraws her paw, and starts on her sandwich.
You follow suit.
"Mmmpm" you moan through a mouthful of cheese steak.
"That good huh?" Clair grins.
Glancing around to make sure there wasn't anyone looking, you ham it up by rolling your eyes back.
"Mmmmmmmmmm"
She laughs.
"Thanks, Anon."
You finish the rest of your meal in near silence, occasionally glancing up at your companion.
Humans stuck with humans, anthros with anthros. Which was kind of a shame, since a) there were so few humans around in the city, and b) you were a huge deviant who frequented a certain human-on-anthro thread on a particular Mongolian skiing forum. Admitting it to Claire would be suicide, but the feeling of her soft fur, her powerful arms, and the gentle purr as she hugged you was enough to turn you to putty.
Which was why you didn't come here as often anymore. Frankly, you were tired of wanting something you couldn't ever have.
Sandwich finished, she wipes her mouth with a napkin.
"I really mean it, thanks for coming. It was good to see you again."
"You too." And, oh god, she really does look glad to see you. You add "I'll come back again soon."
Fuck.
It's too late, her eyes light up. Then she looks a bit shy, not something you've seen often.
"You know, I only really see you when I'm making you food. If you wanted, maybe we could see each other outside of this place sometime?"
A single noodle slips out the leg of your pants. Words are lost to you.
"Uh, yeah. Yeah, that'd be cool."
An enitire meatball squirts out of you pocket. Fourtunately, Claire doesn't seem to notice. Her ears are ramrod straight, and you can hear her tail swishing madly.
"Great! Here, give me your comm and I'll add my number."
You unlock it and hand it over, doing your best to suppress the mad anxiety you get over someone else holding your soul. She shoots you a mocking glance, adds her contact, and sends herself a message.
"Okay, I'll text you later then!"
Both of you walk to the cash register, and she rings you up.
Without saying anything, you place a bill far too large for your tab onto the counter.
Claire picks it up, and starts making change.
"No, please keep it. You really deserve it."
"Anon, it's too much." She says, forcing the change into your hand. You offer again, but she makes a show of hiding her paws. Fine, then.
With a final goodbye, you go walk to the door, and look back. Claire looks like she's struggling with something.
"Everything alright?"
She doesn't say anything. Her ears are folded back again. Just as you're starting to get concerned, she sighs.
"No, it's nothing. I'll see you later, Anon."
With a cheery nod, you put the change down on a nearby table, and rush out the door before she can say anything else.
You're practically skipping on the walk back home. What did she mean by "see each other?" Alright, it's probably not what you're hoping for, but itt'l be fun all the same. You're sure you'll be able to kill your feels.
At the door to your building, your phone buzzes. Did she text you already? With a big dumb smile on your face, you pull out the comm to read it.

It's your boss. He got your email.

He's less than pleased. There's all sorts of "how could this have happened" and "this is the worst possible time" and "I expect better of you going forward".
But what's done is done. You've submitted the critical bug report, put a temporary patch in place, and rolled out a company-wide forcible password change. Besides, she hadn't even done anything, really. For all anoyone but you knew, an unknown hacker had randomly decided to delete a day's security footage to cover up exactly nothing.
Later in the evening you sit in your kitchenette, coffee maker humming. Today had been such a whirlwind that you hadn't had a single cup, and your head was starting to pound.
Finally, the little bell goes off, and you pour yourself a tall mug of the good stuff. A bit of sugar and some cream, and you're off to your room.
Threads are pretty active tonight, makes sense.
Then a loud buzz from your startles you, and you eagerly grab your phone.
It's what you hoped.

'hey anon are you still up?'
'Hi Claire, yeah I'm up.'
'cool, i know it's lame to text so fast but idc. you free tomorrow?'
You had, in fact, been free for every Saturday in recent history.
'I think so'
'sweet, wanna hang out?'
'Sure, doing what?'
'i thought it would be nice to walk around the park. we could get lunch at one of those food trucks'
Just walking around and chatting with Claire sounds like heaven.
'Sounds good, what time?'
'main gate at 11?'
Hm. Kinda early. But considering your "appointment" tomorow evening --which you still weren't sure you would actually go to-- it was probably for the best.
'See you then.'
'nite anon :)'
'Night Claire :)'

Ahhhh, the smily face was definitely too much. Goddamn it.
You click off your comm, and toss it towards your bed. The big stupid grin is back with a vengence, you're going to hang out with Claire tomorrow!
Okay Anon, take it easy. You're going to keep getting dissapointed if you think like that. Just stay calm, yeah.
It won't ever work. She's an anthro, you'd get shunned from all sides so fast it would make your head spin.
But I don't care about getting shunned, and anyway who the fuck is going to do the shunning?
Okay, ignoring the part where people start hating you, what if she's not even into humans?
Your gaze moves from the floor to your screen. You're halfway down a /BRED/ thread.
Claire couldn't possibly be as degenerate as you. Right?
It's getting late, and the fuzziness of sleep is starting to take you despite the coffee. You were so desensitized that one cup didn't do much anymore. Like every other night, you strip down, and climb in.
Except this time, you don't feel nearly so bad. Clutching your pillow, you dare to think dangerous thoughts about a certain sexy panther, and drift off more peacefully than you have in a long time.

0700, your alarm goes off. Slapping it quiet, you roll out of bed and start to get dressed.
Then you remember, and instantly snap out of your sleep fog.
Instead of pulling on the beaten sweats which were already halfway up your legs, you head for the shower. You want to look good dammit, even if this is just a regular old friend's hangout.
An hour later and you're freshly washed, dressed, and breakfasted. A quick sniff tells you that your nice green hoodie needs a wash. If it smells this bad for you, Claire would probably have to keep 20 feet away. Popping it in the washer, you head to your room.
It was time for some research.
You try all your common channels, searching for the name 'familiar.' Nothing. No mention of her in any forum, irc channel, or email group. Nothing big enough to be her, ayway. Was it a fresh name? That usually wasn't how tech junkies operated, they liked to leave a trace. That dumb urge to be known often made your job easier. Personally, you were more than happy to go by 'anon.'
Defeated, you sit back. Looks like she really did invent the name just for you. It's 10:30, you're going to head out...
And then an irc notification pops up. It's Gary, an anthro rat you only know online. He gets a kick out of cracking the databases of consumer profiles that companies build up to try and predict people's behaviour. He bet you fifty bucks he'd find your name somewhere before the year was out, and you gladly took him up. It was already September.

'Hey Anon what's up'
'Not much man, how've you been?'
'Good good, heard you were looking for familiar'
'Shit, you heard of her?'
'Yeah dude. I don't know how you know her, but you should stay the fuck away. Friend of mine says she's been involved in anarchist terrorism type stuff'

What.

'???'
'Yeah, shit like frying company networks and mass email propaganda. Doesn't keep a high profile, oddly enough. Most of those types cant stfu.'
'Can you get me the contact of that friend?'
'Sorry man, no can do.'

You blink a couple times, processing.

'Alright, thanks for the info'
'No problem man, ttyl'

Okay, that was that. You were not going to meet a fucking terrorist. You'd submit a second report, say a "more thorough search revealed a hidden .mp3 file", turn all your evidence in, and get yourself out of whatever fucking trap you'd fallen into.
But you're not going to do that now, because you've got to start walking to the park.
It's a beautiful day, so it's kind of sad that there's just a handful of anthros walking around when you get there. The park was one of the last patches of greenery in the city, kept alive by the slowly dying idea that such a thing deserved to exist. The signs were clear, in a few years the few square miles of grass and trees would probably be another mass condo complex or something.
But there, leaning against the huge wrought-iron gate, is Claire. As you walk up to her, her ears swivel towards you, followed by the rest of your head. Her ears pick up at the sight of you.
"Anon!" she says, wrapping you in a hug.
You wish you didn't care what people thought, but you can't help but notice a male tiger throw you a perplexed look behind Claire's back.
Fuck it.
You try something new, and hug her tightly back.
Why did she just breathe so deeply?

Claire steps back, her tail waving gently.
"Shall we get going?"
"Sure, you just want to walk the trail and chat?"
Her head tilts.
"That was more or less what I had in mind, yeah." And her expression drops a bit "is that alright?"
"Oh! Of course, definitely" you stammer out "I love spending time with you."
SHIT.
"Haha, thanks Anon, me too!" She smiles. "Oh, I mean you, not me. You get it."
"Yeah, yeah."
Silence.
"Wellp," Claire says, and starts off down the trail. You turn and follow.
It's a beautiful day, and it's almost just the two of you walking along the park's trail. The park is so big, and there's so many trees, that you can't see out into the city anymore. The only hint that you're not in the wilderness is the tips of the skyscrapers, visible above the foliage. The trees are just starting to change colors. You and Claire make occasional small talk, but are mostly taking in the view, and walking in comfortable silence. Then, she speaks up
"So why do you wear those?" Claire asks, pointing to your feet.
"What, shoes?"
"Yeah."
You look at Claire's bare footpaws. Anthros usually didn't wear shoes, since their paws had plenty of padding already.
"My feet aren't padded like yours. If I were to just walk around barefoot it would hurt."
"What? Your feet are so weak that you can't walk barefoot?"
"Well, not outside anyway. Inside is fine."
"Huh. Weird."
"Yeah, and it sucks because there's no good places to buy shoes in the city. Back home, they had entire stores devoted just to shoes. You could sit for hours and find the pair that fit you perfectly. Now,"
you wave your foot around a little for emphasis
"I just kinda deal with whatever I can find."
"Aww, poor Anon."
Claire turns her head to look at a wolf couple, walking in the opposite direction. Then, she gives you a sad look.
"Do you ever miss living in a human town?"
"A little." You nod. "I mean, don't get me wrong! Anthros are great. Really great. But it's nice to have people around who have to shop for shoes too."
She gives you a playful bump on the arm.
"Alright, my turn. Can you really hear that much better than I can?"
"Definitely. I can hear you breathing, I can still hear that couple walking, I can hear the traffic outside the park..."
"Woah, how do you deal with all that noise?"
She shrugs.
"How do you deal with all the extra things you sense? You just kinda ignore them most of the time, it's no problem. Though I have noticed that it's a lot easier to get an anthro's attention than a humans. Usually."
Things are quiet for a minute.
"Alright, my turn again. Do you "
but she stops. It looks like she's trying to keep herself from smiling.
"Claire? What is it?"
"Okay, please don't think I'm weird or a pervert or anything. If you don't want to answer that's completely fine. But..."
"Yes?"
"Do human dicks really look like they do in porn? Just... all smooth? No knot, no spikes, no twisting or anything. Just, smooth?"
You somehow manage to choke without drinking anything. It's far from the sort of thing you'd normally be comfortable talking about. But something about Claire makes you willing to discuss anything.
"Uhhh, yeah." You inform her. "Yeah, completelly smooth. Definitely no knot either."
You pause, looking at her take the information in. Then something occurrs to you.
"You watch human porn?"

Her eyes open wider than you've ever seen.
"NO! No. Definitely not."
She coughs into her paw.
"Just heard it from a friend."
"Suuuure you did." You tease.
On the outside, you're calm. Collected. On the inside, Anon is pushing with all his might against an ocean of spaghetti.
The wind picks up a little, and now it's starting to get chilly. There's a lonely wood bench sitting inside a little alcove of trees.
"Hey, do you want to sit for a minute until the wind dies down?"
Claire's ears are folded back against her head in the breeze. It's kinda cute.
"Yeah, let's do that."
Uh oh, that's a small bench. Claire sits first, and despite doing your best to squeeze off to the other side, your thigh is pressed against hers.
She gives you a funny look.
"What's the matter Anon? I promise I don't bite."
She smiles wide, on purpose. The sight of her teeth sends a shiver down your back.
"It's not, no, don't worry about it."
The two of you stare off at the swaying trees. Oh fuck this is awkward, what did you do?
"Anon, I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable."
what.gif
"I see the way you react to my hugs and stuff somethimes, and I like to think we're just having a good time but."
Her muzzle is pointed at you, but she can't seem to meet your eyes.
"If you don't feel comfortable touching an anthro or anything, I get it."
Oh shit. Oh shit shit shit.
"Clarie, no, of course n..."
There's tears starting to well in her eyes. Oh no, it looks like this is something she's really been worrying about.
Anon would look back on this moment as one of the proudest in his life. For, instead of stammering out useless words, he instantly hugged the slouching panther as tight as he could.
She hiccups a little. Her hot breath is tickling the back of your neck, and it makes you regret ever deciding to spend less time at the cafe.
"Thanks Anon."
Say 'I love you' you think. Say it say it say it say it
"No problem Claire."
You faggot.
She straightens up to end the hug, and as her silky fur brushes your cheek you have to fight the urge to keep holding. There's no more breeze, and she moves to stand up.
"Keep walking?"
You agree.
As the two of you walk away from the bench, you notice that she's standing just a hair closer than before. There's a lot more swing in her tail.
You feel the urge to keep up the game of '20 questions.'
"Why'd you start cooking, as a job?"
"That's an easy one." She smiles "dad and I used to cook all the time when I was a kit. All the practice made me pretty good at it, and so I lept at the first chance I got to be a professional cook."
There's a pause. She seems to be thinking.
"I don't think I'm going to be working at Cassie's Place much longer though."
"What?!" You blurt out, too surprised to contain yourself. "You've been there forever!"
"Yeah." She says softly. "I have."
It doesn't look like she wants to talk about it anymore.

Turning a corner, a food truck comes into view. There's a little clearing close to one of the smaller park entrances, where they can drive up and flip open.
Claire's ears perk up again, and her whiskers twitch as she sniffs the air.
"Ooh, I'm starving. Let's stop for lunch."
You nod eagerly.
A minute later and you're both sitting at a wooden picnic table. There's a bowl of cheesy potato wedges in front of you, and Claire is chomping on a synthetic hotdog. It reminds you of the farms back home. Humans were more open about breeding non-sentient mammals for eating, paricularily when there weren't any anthros around. Social graces aside though, some people just needed protien. Poultry and beans got old after a while, so synthetics had gotten pretty good over the years.
Never perfect though.
"Have you ever tried real pork?" You ask through a mouthful of potato.
Claire's eyes grow wide, and she instinctively looks around to make sure there isn't anyone around to overhear. Predatory species were usually on their toes to avoid scaring anyone. Humans were kinda weird, they didn't really have a clear place in that dynamic.
There's no one, but she whispers anyway.
"Once. Dad brought home real pork chops one time, he said it 'wouldn't be right if I never learned how to cook them'."
"Can you cook them now?"
"Fuck yeah I can" she grins " maybe someday I'll make them for y...
And it's like someone turned off a light. There's no more happiness in her as she looks at her half-finished hotdog.
"What is it?" you ask, putting down a wedge.
There are tears forming in Claire's big golden eyes.
"I.. I'm sorry Anon." She sniffles "I thought I could keep it together for today, but apparently not."
She stands up, and dumps the rest of her food in the garbage can next to the table.
"It was really great seeing you, maybe we can do it again somet..."
She chokes on the word, as if she didn't realize that she was going to say it.
"Bye Anon" 
and then she's running for the nearest exit. You get up to follow, but she's gone before you even make it to the truck.
You slump back over to the table, and scrape your own food into the trash too. It seems your apatite is gone. The deer running the food truck offers you a sympathetic shrug, as if to say 'that's how it goes sometimes.'

Your apartment has never felt emptier, as you flop onto your saggy couch. She's not responding to your barrage of texts or calls, and the cafe is deserted.
What was going on with her? Today felt like some kind of 'making peace,' like she wanted some kind of closure with you.
You sit up so fast that your head knocks a lamp off the adjacent table. The sound of it shattering falls on deaf ears.
Oh fuck.
You rush to pull on your jacket and start ringing Claire again. She wouldn't. She's not like that at all.
But the idea fits too well with how she couldn't talk about the future.
You're getting a lot of weird looks from passers-by as you run down the streets, yelling
"CLAIRE! CLAIRE!"
she's still not answering. You finally make it to the cafe, and go in. Surprisingly it's open, and even though a single light is on there's no one home.
It's getting late, and just as you're getting ready to call the cops and walk over every bridge in the city, a single text from Claire pops up.
'im really sorry about today. im fine. see you tomorrow?'
Oh no she's not.
'Please Claire I want to talk, what's going on? I'm worried about you'
Silence for a minute. You dial the emergency number into your comm, but it starts ringing before you can finish.
You eagerly accept the call and jam the phone up to your head.
"Anon?"
It takes some effort not to start crying with relief right here on the sidewalk. A bunch of people are walking past you, pretending not to see the lone human freaking out.
"Oh my god Claire, I thought something had happened to you."
"No! No, I'm... I'm so so sorry for making you worry. Really, I'm alright."
A pause, you think you hear her swallow.
"I know I kinda spazzed out back there, but it's just... I've been under a lot of pressure. Besides if I was gonna kill myself, I'd have given you a better goodbye than THAT."
Morbid as it is, you're glad to see a little bit of her humor back. She continues
"I'm really sorry Anon, it's a huge dick move to ask someone to hang out, and then bail, and then stop responding.  But I promise I'll make it up to you."
You suppose that's good enough for now.
"Alright, I'm just glad you're okay." you say, honestly. "Talk to you tomorrow?"
There's a laugh from the other end
"Mr. Anon! Are you always this insistent with the ladies?"
It's enough to get a little smile out of you.
"Goodnight Claire."
"G'night Anon, thank you for making sure I was okay."
The call ends, and you start the walk back to the apartment.
How were you supposed to know that Claire was crying because she made a promise she couldn't keep?

Before turning onto your street, you do a double take at the clock on your comm. 20:38. The bus out of the city would be leaving soon, if you were really going to make your date at the campground you were going to have to book it to the station right now.
But no, you made up your mind earlier. God, a terrorist? The events of today had kept your mind off it, but you were going to have to report it to both your boss and the cops tomorrow.
And then you turn the corner.
The streetlamps are turning on and off, in a pattern much like the landing lights on a runway. They're set up to look like they're ushering people away from your building, and a small crowd has gathered to take pictures and run up and down the street.
'Oh no' you think to yourself. 'I'm really going to go meet a terrorist.'

For the second time this week, you're booking it down the sidewalk as fast as you can.
20:58, and you're clamoring into the bus. It's a sleek grey model, supposedly with a new hover suspension that keeps the thing as smooth as a maglev train. There's a grizzly bear driver stuffed into the driver's seat, who gives you a curt nod as you pass him.
It's almost empty save for a little trio of wolves towards the middle. A family, it looks like. The father gives you a polite smile as you pass, heading for the back seat.
Back seat is best seat.
They were right about the new busses, this thing is gliding along like a ghost. From the look of it, the driver is taking advantage of the darkness and empty road to go a little faster than normal.
Towards your meeting with 'familiar.'
Your leg is bouncing furiously. You've been exposed to a lot of information recently, and it was starting to really weigh on you. Your drop of trust in 'Accumulation' had evaporated the moment you saw the first picture. Could you trust your boss now? Your coworkers? If the fucking military was that involved, could you trust anyone?
Unfortunately, the big glass window you're staring out of doesn't offer any answers.

You have to fight the urge to run after the bus as it pulls away from the campground.
Fuck, you hadn't given any thought as to how you were going to get back to the city tonight. Cab fare was going to cost a fortune.
Also, this place is really big. The note hadn't been very specific, how were you supposed to know where to actually...
The 'vacancy' sign has a single light entry, number 13.
'One wrong coincidence, and familiar is going to have her whole schtick ruined' you think, trudging off for the lot.

It's uncomfortably cold, you should have grabbed an actual coat instead of this hoodie.
Your sneakers crunch on gravel road as you make your way to site number 13.
Something's making you uneasy, and you realize that you haven't heard this much... nothing... in a long time. If you stop walking, the only sounds are some crickets and the rustling of the trees.
The campground is pretty densely packed with them. Much like the park, it helps maintain the illusion of unspoiled wilderness.  If they weren't there, you'd probably see a few cities off in the distance.
Through some of the gaps in the leaves though, you can see, oh wow.
The city nights are so full of vibrant neon and LCD that you can't see a single star.
You haven't left city limits since you were a kid, and you had forgotten just how many of them there were. How surreal it was to see a sky that wasn't empty, even if you can only see a few patches of it.
A glance at your comm tells you that it's 22:03. It also tells you that you have 7% battery.
Damn battery was worn down to the end of it's life, and you never bother getting it replaced since you're always a few feet from an outlet.
Not now though.

Lot 13 looks pretty lonely. There's a gravel patch to pack a car, a lot of grass to put a tent on, and a picnic table with firepit off to the side. Trees are blocking the view into other lots.
It's kinda giving you the creeps.
'Anon, you are the dumbest person I know' you think to yourself 'and now you are about to get raped and murdered, where no one will hear you scream.'
Actually, your screams would probably carry over to the nearest campers. So that was good.
It's 22:07, and there's no sign of anyone but you. Fear gives way to mild frustration, as you sit at the bench.
Wait, what if the '13' thing really was a coincidence, and familiar is waiting for you somewhere else?
Her fault for making herself seem all big and mysterious.
That would be funny. 'Sorry you had to wait, familiar, your whole prime numbers thing made me wander off and sit by myself for an hour.'
The humor leaves your body pretty fast though. There's a pair of glowing green circles in the treeline.
"Hello?" you venture.
The circles drift upward, as a tall silhouette steps out of the darkness.
Black pants, black shirt, what looks to be a black vest and balaclava cover her form. The gear is tight enough to tell she's female, though. Her eyes are hidden by those glowing green goggles.
She's wearing a voice modulator, the same one she used to record that message.
"We don't have much time Anon." she speaks, in a tinny voice "I'm familiar."

The stress and absurdidty of it all is starting to get to you.
"Not to me you aren't!" you grin.
The grin flees as the figure closes the distance between you. She's close enough to hear metallic breathing.
"There is no time for jokes." she says flatly.
"Then tell me what the fuck it going on!" you snap "you barge into my life, use the fucking power grid to say 'hello', destroy my trust in everyone inside ten minutes, and..."
But she's behind you, hand pressed firmly against your mouth to stop you talking.
"Not so loud." she says.

"Would you have preferred to keep trusting people who did not deserve it?"
Your struggling isn't helping anything. Fuck she's strong. Once you give up, she removes her hand.
"Please listen to me. You're not safe. You're caught in something bigger than you know."
She's pacing the little parking lot.
"They're everywhere already. This was the only place we could talk."
You open your mouth wide, and she somehow shoots you a death glare through the goggles. You swallow the loud retort you were about to make, and settle on something quieter.
"Who's everywhere?"
"Accumulation" she says, in the same flat tone.
"That's crazy" you say "they're a large-ish tech firm, far from the only one out there. And aren't they all 'everywhere?' what with mass data mining."
She sighs. It sounds strange with the robotic garbling.
"If only it were that simple. They are not the only firm, but they are the only ones with working neural interface technology."
"That's still years away from being good." You reply "and besides, it's not in anyone's head yet, I fail to see how they..."
You fall quiet as she perks up, holding up a hand for you to stop. She holds still for a minute, like she's trying to hear something.
It looks like the area where her nose should be is twitching too.
"Sorry. You're right, it's not in deployment yet."
The pacing continues.
"But it's farther along than you've been led to believe. "
"So what? New tech is invented all the time. This is bigger, a lot bigger, than normal. But it's not too strange."
You really wish you could see her face, to tell what kind of look it is you're getting right now.
"The chips are going to be built with a secret function, designed in collaboration between Accumulation, and the Department of Defence."
Once again, the way she's managing to sound earnest through a voice scrambler is catching you off guard.
"Their true level of integration with the host's brain is not going to be publicized. While people will be aware of the chip's ability to deliever sensory stimulus, they will be ignorant of it's full functionality."
Her fists are balled up.
"Memory alteration. Emotional control. The ability to adjust intelligence as easily as one changes a thermostat."
She's shaking.
"Anon, I can't stop them on my own. I've been doing everything I can, but without a man on the inside."
Her green eyes meet yours.
"Without you, I cannot prevent what is coming."
You can't deny the effect she's having.
"And what is coming?" you whisper.
She gets close to you again. Her voice is barely audible.
"Complete, eternal, world domination."

Silence.

She's crazy. Batshit. Her little story had you going, but things like memory alteration? The kind of bioengineering required was the stuff of science fiction.
Although, just two days ago, you thought the same thing about neural interface in general.
Whatever, you were getting out of here. You stand up.
"It's been a pleasure meeting you, familiar, but I've got to go."
She nods, and hands you a small comm. It's even more ancient than yours. Part of you wants to fling it to the ground right now.
"Travel safely. I will contact you shortl..."
The wail of police sirens fills the air.

Adrenaline dumps into your blood. Your stomach fills with ice. Red and blue lights are painting the trunks of trees, getting brighter and brighter. You feel the ancient dread of a creature in very, very deep trouble.
Your companion looks at you. She looks at the treeline, where she emerged.
"Fuck." she says to the ground, and runs for the woods.
A minute ago you were desperate to escape her. But now the thought of being left alone terrifies you more than anything.
"WAIT!"
But she doesn't run through the trees. Instead, she grabs a sleek black hoverbike from the bushes, and runs it back towards you. 
She stops, hand open.
"Give me your comm."
You freeze.
"What?"
The sirens are getting louder; she shoves her hand into your hoodie pocket.
"Hey!" You protest, but she pays no attention. She produces a device of her own, and waves it over your precious soul.
Her detector blinks red and gives an accusatory beep.
Without a word, she snaps your comm in two, snaps the pieces in two, and throws them into the trees.
A surprised, pained noise escapes your mouth.

But before you can really get mad, you're lifted onto the seat of the bike. Your companion mounts in front of you.
familiar lets out a deep breath. She looks at the approaching lights, looks back at you, and reaches her hand towards you.
It looks like she's reaching for your dick, and a series of strange thoughts flashes through your head. Instead, her hand plunges into the back of her pants, and pulls out a long black tail.
A very familiar tail.

"Hang on tight!" She yells, kicking the bike into gear. The engine emits a high pitched whine as it spins to life, and you're flying down the gravel road, clutching for dear life at the back of your escape driver.
As your face presses into her back, you're filled with the scent of leather.
And your favorite panther.

"Claire?" You ask.
She pulls the robotic mask from her muzzle and takes a deep lungful of the fresh air.
It doesn't seem like she can hear you over the wind. The sirens are getting louder, and the flashing lights are filling more and more of the space around you. A lot of campers are looking around for the source of the noise, then staring at you with gaping mouths as you race past.
You hit a straight patch of road, and hear the panther grumble with annoyance. Sure enough, cop cars begin spilling onto the stretch, racing towards you.
"PULL OVER IMMEDIATELY OR WE WILL SHOOT. THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING."

Claire throws a look over her shoulder, at the cops, then at you. Her muzzle is grim.  She turns back to the controls, and hits a small orange button.
The green hoverpads keeping the bike aloft glow brighter. You hear the charging of a magnetic gun behind you.
A part of you thinks that, of all the ways to go, hugging Claire isn't the worst.

But she swerves into the treeline. You scream as the air is filled with the roar of magnetic shells filling the space where you used to be.
The bike zips through the dense forest. It gets darker as the glow of the lights and sound of the sirens fades away, and soon all you can hear is the wind and the electronic whine of the engine.
You continue through the trees for a while, taking several turns.
And then you clear the forest. A vast stretch of prarie opens up before you.  The lights of a city are on the horizon.
But they're nothing compared to the lights of the stars above you.

Claire drives the bike onto a nearby stretch of road, and presses the orange button again. The hoverpads return to their natural brightness, and the engine spins down a little. There's no moon out tonight, and she's not turning on the headlights. Must be night vision goggles. She yells towards you over the wind.
"Can't stop. About a half  hour's drive ahead."
Good, that will give you some time to think about what the hell just happened.
Claire doesn't speak again for the rest of the ride. The road is old and cracked, made before the invention of self-healing asphalt. You're the only ones on it, driving further and further into the wide expanse of nothing. The ground is dry and dead, nothing can grow here anymore without a lot of help. It must be expensive to keep that campsite so green.

You're not sure how long you've been riding. There's no landmarks around but Claire hits the button again, and you turn off the road. You spend a couple minutes driving east.
After a while, you can hear the turbines in the bike starting to spin down. You're slowing to a stop, but there's nothing but dust and rocks for as far as the eye can see.
Why is she stopping in the middle of the wasteland?
A morbid thought comes to you. There's the outline of a holster on Claire's hip.

You're probably going 30 clicks now, and your driver turns her head back towards you again.
"This is going to feel a little weird, just hold tight. Itt'l only take a second."
But before you can ask exactly what it is you're supposed to be bracing for, you're overwhelmed by the feeling of pins and needles all over your body. The slightest movement sends rippling electric pain through your bones. Your vision fills with static, like a television tuned to a dead channel.
And then it's over just as quickly as it started. Gasping for air, you look around as the last flecks of silver leave your sight.
Where there was formerly nothing but empty air sits an enormous camper. The thing looks ancient, there's actual rubber wheels on it. The thing doesn't look like it's going anywhere soon though, wires and pipes cover the dusty aluminum siding like creepvine. The little windows are framed by faded pink flowery curtains.
An modest array of solar panels sits on the ground nearby. They're wired into the camper, and what looks like a big metal antenna sticking out of the ground.
That explains it, military grade cloaking tech. Where did she get one?

The bike comes to a stop a few meters away from the door. Claire pulls the magnetic key from the ignition, and the bike floats to the ground with a faint hum. Your feet touch ground.
Slowly, she steps off. Looking towards you, she pulls the goggles and balaclava off her face. Two black ears pop up from their confinement, and you're staring into a pair of big golden eyes.

The cat takes a deep breath.
"Anon, welcome to my home." She says, spreading her arms and taking a little bow.
You've got a lot to talk about.
And yet somehow, words haven't returned to you yet. You dismount the bike, fumbling a little. Your legs are shaking, when did that start?
A worried looking Claire rushes over to you, crouching down and catching your body as you slump into her shoulder.
What the fuck was happening? Was this some kind of sick nightmare?
And then, you're hit with an exaustion you didn't know you'd been supressing. It feels like you can't do anything but melt into Claire, your body going limp.
The feeling of her wiskers on your cheek again is the last thing you register before blacking out.

The first think you're aware of is the awful taste in your mouth. Did you not brush your teeth last night? Shit, that is a monster kink in your neck.
Why does everything smell like Claire?
Oh. Right.
Your first sight of the day is a mind-bendingly ugly floral pattern.  Actually, pattern might be too generous, the twists of color against the white background seem to defy any kind of order.
Pulling the blanket off of your head, you sit up. You're sitting fully clothed in a tiny bed you're never seen before. The bedroom is compact, and a gunmetal grey desk takes up the other side of the room. Documents are strewn about on top of it, and an array of monitors is perched above, showing a wall of dense text readouts to an empty chair.
"Are you awake in there?" Comes a voice through the closed door. The little flowery curtains are drawn, giving you some privacy.
A comfusing ensemble of emotions are fighting for space in your brain.
"Uhh, yeah." You stammer, swinging your legs off the bed. Your feet touch carpet.
"I'm gonna open the door, okay?" you hear.
It creaks open, and standing in the doorframe is Claire. She's in jeans, a t-shirt, and a big apron that reads 'Lick the Cook'.
The aroma of cooking sausage fills the room.
"I made us breakfast." She says at your silence. "Come on Anon, I think we should talk for a bit."
You stand up, and stretch, and the panther immediately turns back towards the kitchen. Despite it all, your brain takes the time to notice how good her ass looks in those jeans.
Following her through the door, you get your first good look at the inside of the RV. Walking out of the bedroom at the back, there's a small kitchen unit to your left. Sausages are sizzling on the stove.
Against the right wall is a couch with a table in front of it. It looks like about three people could sit there comfortably, four cozily. The blanket tells you that Claire probably spent the night there.
Towards the front is a little room on the left, probably the bathroom, and past that is a door you assume leads to the cabin.
"Please, sit down." Claire asks, and you do. The couch lets you sink into it pretty far.
She turns from the counter, carrying a tray with sausages, toast, and fruit. You hadn't had time to realize it yet, but you must have been out for a while. You're starving.
You scooch over as she sits on the couch, putting the tray on the table.
It smells delicious, but Claire's not eating any of it. She's looking at her lap.
Finally, she takes a deep breath, and looks at you.
With her big pretty eyes.
"I'm sorry Anon."
Of all the things she might have said, you hadn't expected that.
"Sorry for what?"
"Things are going to get a lot more complicated now." She answers, still looking at you. "I hoped that I could keep you away from all... this"
she motions around at the rv, and herself
"I broke a lot of my own rules asking you for help, and I knew it would throw a big fucking wrench in you life but"
she sighs
"I didn't want to make you a known criminal. I'm sorry."

That part hadn't occurred to you yet.
"How bad is it?"
"Bad, Anon. If they catch you, you'll be taken to a place where they don't give people trials."
She shivers a little.
"I've seen it happen. I'm so, so sorry, but you can't leave."
"What?"
Unable to look you in the eye anymore, Claire gets up and leans over the sink. Her tail is hanging motionless.
"There's a shield beacon outside. Within 50 meters of it, you're safe. Outside of that,"
she pulls out her comm and taps on it a bit before turning to show you the screen.
It's a news article. Next to a hi-def picture of your face is a scrolling caption:
'WANTED for conspiring with a known terrorist. Suspect is to be considered hostile, report immediately if seen. Suspect was last witnessesed at....'
Claire scrolls down to a video interview. They're talking to a tiger you passed at the campground.
'it was insane man, I thought they were going to fly into a fucking tree and...'
she scrolls further, where your local snow-leapord news anchor is talking over a looping clip of you and Claire speeding over gravel road.
A little further, and your heart drops. It's an interview with the wolf dad you saw on the bus. He's holding his cub.
'...and he just walked right past us. Looked like a decent enough guy at the time, too. Guess it goes to show, you can't ever tell...'
Sensing that you've seen enough, Claire pulls the comm back.
"Anon?"
The air of the rv is suffocating you. You stand up abruptly.
"Anon..."
you run for the door, throwing it open. The vast expanse of sunny desert is in front of you.
Air, space.
You bolt. The shimmering barrier of the shield beacon is barely visible in the distance. It's not real, none of this is real. If you can just get past that border, you'll wake up and it will all be over.
"ANON!"
Heavy footfalls bahind you, and then you're tasting the dusty ground. She's got you pinned.
"Get off me!"
You squirm, trying to escape her grip, as though you were an animal in a cage.
"Anon, please, Anon"
and she's crying, her tears wetting the back of your neck.
It's too much, you're crying too. Sobbing into the uncaring ground.
Your life is over. Everything you've ever worked for is gone. Everyone who knows you... what are they thinking now? Are they like that wolf, will they go talk to each other about how 'you seemed decent enough'?
Or will they say 'I always knew there was something off about Anon'?
Will Martha go to bed scared over what you might have done in the lobby that morning?
Claire flips you over and hugs you tightly. You're sobbing into her.
"I'm sorry Anon, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

You lie on the ground in Claire's embrace for what feels like hours. It's like she's trying to keep you from flying into pieces with her body.
It's working. Your sobs slowly lose their intensity.
Eventually, you're doing nothing but breathing slowly. The panther shifts on top of you, bringing her face to yours.
You don't imagine that you look very good right now.
"I think I ruined your fur." you say.
She looks surprised, and leans up a little to look down at herself. There's a big patch of fur that's damp and tussled.
"Nothing a bath won't fix." she replies.
And her eyes snap up to you, horrified.
"Not a tongue bath! A normal bath. With water."
You blink.
"You give yourself tongue baths?"
"No! No that's, it's, not for a long time."
the silence is broken by her laughter, quickly met by your own.

Now it's your turn for a deep breath.
"Claire, I won't lie, it's a lot to take in."
She's studying your face closely. Her body is still pressing into yours.
"But I'm the one who made the decision to meet you yesterday. It's not your fault."
relief washes over her features. 
"That means a lot to me Anon, thank you."
She's so warm. You can feel her breath on your skin. Her golden eyes are threatening to swallow you whole.
And she stands back up, breaking your trance. You get up too, brushing some of the dirt off.
Oh. You didn't even make it that far from the trailer.
"Come back inside, Anon" she gestures towards the door. She's not walking yet, it looks like she's waiting to see if you'll run again.
You're trapped, but you're not alone.
"Coming" you say, and make for the door.