Member-only story
SHORT STORY / WOLF TALE
Mating Strike
That should set some heads spinning
I think of myself as Fennel, for that is my name; but those in the white coats — those who call themselves researchers — refer to me as “120112A” after my birthday (the First of December, 2012).
The “A” means that I was the first of the litter to be born (out of the gate, as it were) that day — my three siblings, emerging one after the other right behind me — second, third, fourth — are known, in the same researcher dialect, as “120112B,” “120112C,” and “120112D” respectively.
They, however, think of themselves as Unicorn (B-brother), Wishful (C-sister), and Stream (D-sister), respectively. And I (A), as I said, think of myself as Fennel.
The four of us live in a big plastic tank. It’s like living under a big rectangular and transparent dome, where several fluorescent suns shine through a plastic sky. Unicorn doesn’t agree; he rarely does. He sees our home as a plain, upside-down, waterless fish tank, as he puts it. Not very imaginative, Unicorn. Then again, I might be over-ditto.
We are lab rats. That’s precisely what we are. It is a precarious occupation and, historically speaking, not conducive to your long-term health. Frankly, I don’t recommend lab-ratting as a career, should you have the…
