In the desert, a young fennic finds her prey. Wandering, she digs through the sand to find some scorpions. It had been many months since she had seen her mother, but now she has largely given up. Part of her wanted to move in with the local human population, and she had mastered the art of standing on two legs. Hop, hop, hop the fennic would jog. Never once shall she be captured by a zoo keeper. But no matter where she went, nowhere felt like him. In the desert, or in a sand hunt, she yawns and desires rest. Yet the humans prefer to tickle her ears, acting as if she’d been family all these years. Liz the fennic started growing her fur long, making some of the towns folk confuse her for a puppy dog. But she supposed this was better than being hunted with sling shots and bayonets.
When her tribe had wandered north, she saw Napoleons army shoot off the nose of the sphinx with a canon ball; the human headed cat wasn’t to happy about that. He would chase after Napoleon and his men, and it took several campaigns before a peace treaty was settled with the ancients. But the sphinx would swipe at the men to make them leave Egypt forever. But the sphinx didn’t mind her human tribe, as they always payed homage to the energy devices inside of its matrix. The sphinx was powered by an artificial intelligence that nobody really knew how long it had been around. And their people would hide the multiple layers of Osiris’ temple from the Americans, whom spoke in strange languages they didn’t understand. At least with Greek, her people had experiences with Romans that spoke of them, but English had become something of a dead language by 2197.
However one day, she was visited by a girl in a biker’s suit, with a pair of virtual reality glasses, who had come from the old empire. She had a ponytail that was long and lightly brown, and she smelled like burnt sand from the days of burning in the sun. On her tee shirt, was a picture of a French Guillotine, holding up the severed head of Charlotte Corday. The girl also carried a magnifying glass, a digital video recorder, mechanical cryptographic equipment, and some invisible ink for inscribing notes.
-- The handler said their vicious. The WoRa said.
-- Oh she’ll warm up to you. Said the tribesman, covered in the shadows of the sand hut glass lamplight.
-- So what are you going to do without her? -- Find other Fennics to sell.
Generally speaking, the fennic was largely afraid of humans, but eventually grew to like playing fetch. Wora instructed her in sniffing out noise radios, and the fennic would always be rewarded by grub and scorpions, while having her belly rubbed like she was a cat in dog hardware. The Fennic still couldn’t believe that her old tribe would sell her out, she couldn’t understand how they could be so disloyal. But it was better this way, or so she would tell to herself. Better than dodging Napoleon the Sixteenth.
Napoleon’s family finally secured royal dominance in France near the turn of the twenty first century, and people are still waiting to start the 17th republic. But this was something that never seemed to cross Wora’s mind. She spent her time analyzing different way of making invisible ink, and only traveling to different ruins fighting revenants at night, because this was the best way to avoid guards that watched ancient temples.
-- Why do you study gibberish? Asked the fennic.
-- Ah you mean codes? said Wora.
-- Whatever you call that mess.
-- Sometimes I find runes on the walls that I want to solve, even if it’s not n a language that I or anyone else currently understand. It’s been my assumption that some of this must be ciphers.
-- But these are temples.
-- They were certainly used as such, but they’re actually ancient computer circuit boards. These pyramids are energy gathering devices, from some source of electricity.
The fennic rolled on her belly, and received tummy rubs. But she felt herself becoming bored by Wora’s technical drival, preferring to use the toxic sourness that was scorpion cartilage like coffee was for humans. -- Don’t eat to many of those, you might get sick, sad Wora.
-- You’re the one sipping Comets.
-- Yea, and I feel spaced out from it.
It was a standard domestic argument, but at the end of the day, both of them new that they needed each other, as friendship was a matter of a Japanese futon, and a video reel of boring historical videos. But Fennic wanted to be inside of a platforming game, shooting secret agents with laser beams. Going through portals, tearing reality at the seams. At the end of the day, as she could do was sleep. And try not to hate.
To not hate her old tribe.
She was a lone fennic.
She was Anarcho-Fennic.