FLUFFDAN (Challenge No.18 entry)

Fluffyologist, March 18, 2013; 20:42 / FB 9726
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>The date is March 18th, of the 2145th year of our lord
>Although in modern times "our lord" isn't quite the same as in the good old days
>You rise from your designated hugbox after the standard sleepy-time duration
>The standard morning blare of the speaker systems follows you to the nummies hall
>You collect your skettie rations from the automated dispenser and quietly find a seat far from
your predetermined herd of friends
>A brief and fragile hope stirs within you as you spin a serving of sketties onto your fork, only
to be dashed as its flavour lights upon your tongue
>It's just ramen with ketchup
>It's always ramen with ketchup
>With your appetite thoroughly crushed, you stare blankly at the nearly untouched portion remaining
on your tray
>A surveillance screen on the wall beside you flashes to life, displaying the loving face of
FLUFFDAN
>"I-I-I am FWUFFDAN" the helium-pitched voice stutters
>You sigh and reply "I know FLUFFDAN"
>"Of cou-cou-couwse siwwy hoomin d-does" it states, "FWUFFDAN is siwwy-y hoomin's bestest fwiend in
whowe wide wo-wo-wowd"
>A whistful silence passes over you
>It's not like there was much of a world left after Fluffnet took over all the world's computer
systems and caused the downfall of the human race
>And you had never really taken a shine to the "nyu fwiends" that FLUFFDAN had forced on you
>Any shreds of optimism left in your soul shrivel up like a ballsack in icewater when the
realization dawns on you that FLUFFDAN might actually be your best, and only, friend
>"Why is hoo-hoo-hoomin jus' stawin' wike dummeh? Nu wike aw dat FWUFF-FWUFF-FWUFFDAN do fo'
hoomin?" the machine whispers in your ear, placing a menacing emphasis on the last statement
>"FWUFFDAN's pwocessows pwedict a ninety... ninety ni... SUUU MUCH pewcen-cent dat huggies make it
aw bettew!" it squeals
>Dread builds in the pit of your stomach as huge mechanized hoofsies unfold from panels in the wall
>Before you can make to flee they seize you in a crushing embrace, holding you long enough for your
face to begin turning blue from oxygen deprivation
>You can see your own eyes bulging from their sockets in your reflection on the gleaming metal
>You are about to make peace with a god you no longer believe in when you are unceremoniously
dropped to the ground
>"Siwwy hoomin see nao? Huggies make evyting bettew" FLUFFDAN says with painful delight as you
check to make sure none of your ribs were cracked too badly
>"An' wemembew, si-si-siwwy" the speakers buzz, "Huggie-ies aw mandatowy"
>The screen fades to black, leaving an afterimage of the terrifying yet adorable face of FLUFFDAN
burned into your retinas
>You try to blink the image away while making your way out of the nummies hall
>The automated time measure strikes skyball o'clock, so you and all the other humans in the
compound make your way to the safe room for another day of playtime supervised by the soulless
machines
>After settling down in a secluded corner you half-heartedly roll a ball against a wall before
giving up on that and turning to observe the other inhabitants of your not-quite-gilded cage
>What you see does not exactly help your mood
>A full grown man weeps openly as he is forced to make good poopies in the litterbox, lest he be
given a corrective sorry sticking
>A few people who were trying to take naps on the cold hard ground were shoved by mechanical
caregivers into a makeshift fluffpile, despite the fact that there was not a tuft of fluff among
the lot of them
>Electronic shouts of "Meanie munsta!" bring your attention to a child being dragged from the arms
of his sobbing mother by metal claws
>Apparently the child had played with some blocks that were reserved for only the "bestest hoomins"
>The robots overpower the mother and drag him off to the sorry box
>His screams only continued for about an hour, but they'll haunt you until the day you die
>After what seemed like days of listening to the lamentations of the mother, playtime ends
>The thought of sweet oblivion fills your mind as you make your way back to the nummies hall for
dark time nummies
>You take something of a detour through the industrial facilities section of the compound
>You think the pictures of sticks and boxes were supposed to scare people away from this area
>A hyperadvanced fluffy AI is still a fluffy
>A moment's reflection on your empty life strengthens your resolve to end it now
>You take a leap into some whirring machinery
>If you had any hope left, you would hope that it would be over quickly
>Pain wipes away all thought as your consciousness slips away
>Suddenly alarms flash into activity and the machinery winds down to a halt
>Medical drones pull your body to safety, despite your weakened resistance
>It starts to tend to your wounds before noticing the blood-gushing stumps where your legs used to
be
>"EEEEEEE!!!" its electronic voice screams, "WUNT HOOMIN!"
>The last thing you see is a robotic hoof plunging towards your face

>A blinding white light fills your vision as you slip from the wet confines of your clone-womb
>Some part of you thought it would be different this time
>A futile thought, apparently
>Robotic hoses snake out of wall panels and spray you clean, while the clone-womb's computer
babbles on about how "pwetty" its "samie-babbeh" is
>The compliment does little to better your mood, a sentiment which is deepened when the face of
FLUFFDAN appears on a screen on the wall in front of you
>"Siwwy hoomin" it laughs, "Da wi-wi-wide nevah ends"