Captivity

I've been here for what seems like days. What does the Rabbit intend for me, Valor? Surely he doesn't want to kill me -- he could have done that many times over by now.

Let me tell you what I know. My forelegs are still tightly bound, so I can scarcely hear or see anything from my surroundings. That the Rabbit hasn't bothered to cover my eyes tells me he has considerable knowledge of my shortcomings. He has tied up my legs, so he's clearly aware of my strengths, too. My fangs are free. If he would obligingly step under them, I might get something accomplished around here. Then again, if I did, I'd be stranded here. Indeed, unless you find me -- and soon -- I shall surely starve.

My plump behind, which you so dearly cherish, has -- sadly -- become slenderiffic.

(later)

It's a cabin of some sort. I hear animal noises -- muffled, naturally, but I am not completely deaf. He'd have to slather me with peanut butter to do that. (Oh, Valor: that's something we haven't tried!) The door creaks when he enters, and I can occasionally taste chlorophyll on the air. It's colder than I like, and since he hasn't bothered to set up the rasper, I can't very well ask for a blanket.

He's creepy, my love. Sometimes I sense him sitting there, perhaps five feet away, watching me. What does he want? What is he thinking?

(later)

This is progress. I heard the sounds of metal on metal, then a ticking noise, a scratching --

A rasping.

"You there!" I stridulated. The rasper squawked in reply. "I demand you answer me now."

"You're in no position to make demands. In fact, I'd say I have you at my mercy."

Part of me thrilled to the sound of his voice. Conversation, be it only with this beast, restored a modicum of hope to my despondent soul. Yet I sensed something unnatural, not in the rasper's translation, but in the human (synthetic?) voice itself. The voice of a child, a naif, pretending to be a man, realizing he'd made a muck of it, and overcompensating by deepening the timbre, intensifying the bluster.

"Why am I here?" said I. "What are you waiting for?"

"Be honest. What you really want to know is, who is this man who has defeated the great Bare Rump?"

Well, not really. But it seemed best to keep him talking.

"You're the Rabbit," I said. I recalled something I'd learned about him from my time on Ephys, chatting with Whizzer, that great craftsfly of synthetic humans. "You're a failed synthetic actor. So poor were your abilities, even the Benevolents hissed at you when you appeared on screen. You had no choice but to sell your services to --"

I felt a sudden strong tug on my forelegs as he ripped my bonds free. This is what I saw.



" . . . to the Benevolent Commerce and Tourism Association," I finished, my words trailing into silence.

He smiled his phony smile and stroked his beard between two fingers.

"You went to work for those demons," I added. "They want me dead. What's taking you so long?"

The reason for my boldness? He'd freed my forelegs! I was no longer defenseless.

"You're no good to me dead, Bare Rump." The rasper had begun to catch on to his personality; the translation dripped with bombast. "As for the BCTA: They may think they own me, but I'm my own man. I'm a free agent. And I have plans -- for me, for you. For Earth."