Not Self-Made
"It's the football team."
"What about them?" Adelaide asked. She and Field on the blue-colored couch, and Ma in a recliner (though her posture was straight).
The panther, both paws on her hot chocolate mug, stared at the carpet for a bit. The bat and the mouse ... were in bare foot-paws. It made them look cuter, somehow. Their whole house (and their whole demeanor) was rustic, simple. Cozy. No wonder the bat had offered hot chocolate. Fit with the theme.
The bat, concerned by Ma's lull (for the robot, by anyone's knowledge, wasn't one for sudden daydreaming ... or daydreaming at all) ... she whispered, "Ma?"
The panther blinked. "They ... their recent success," she said, starting up again, and referring to the high school football team, "is not entirely self-made. Nor divinely guided."
"'The Board'," Field realized.
"Yes. 'The Board'." Ma sipped of her drink. Paused. "You don't believe," she asked, looking to Adelaide, "in marshmallows?" They were conspicuously absent in her mug.
"They get in the way," was her toothy, sparkling whisper.
"I'll bet." Ma took another sip. "What'd you use? Hershey's?"
"For the mix? Yeah ... did it stove-top. Better than using the microwave."
"I'm not all that keen on chocolate, myself. But ... "
" ... well, neither's Field. He's a vanilla kind of mouse."
"I'm sure he is." Another sip. Hot chocolate is universally good. And Ma cleared her throat, breathing in of the warm, cocoa vapor. "'The Board' has planted several Mandy-bots on the team. The quarterback, a fox, is one of them. There are at least five more."
"Why?"
"We won the state title last year, remember? But, last year, 'The Board' completely controlled the town. Completely. Now? Obviously, they're still a shadowy presence. Still a threat. But ... they're hoping to STACK the football team, to get BACK to the championship. To win again. Not only would it be a record-setting eighth title, but ... it would give them ample excuse to throw a pep rally. Or two. Ticker-tape parades on main street. To get every fur rallied behind them, in 'civic spirit,' and brainwash them in the process. Perhaps get them all in one place at the same time. Hence, a parade. And strike there, somehow."
"Using ... football," Field said quietly, squinting, "to retake the town?"
"Exactly." A sigh. "No one outside the core members of the rebellion ... meaning us ... will ever suspect something so clear-and-present. Something so benign. High school football? Most furs view it as beyond big-time corruption."
"Guess they're wrong," Adelaide said quietly, leaning back, her swept-back, angular ears picking up all the sounds (inside and out of the house).
"It also seems," Ma added gently, "that Spitznagle wants in on the action."
"Didn't she try that before?" Adelaide asked, frowning. She took a swig of her own hot chocolate, and put the empty mug down on the coffee table. Next to Disney 'art of' books, and back-copies of Birds & Blooms magazine ... and a few 500 programs. All carefully arranged.
"Coaster," Field said. Reaching forward. And getting a coaster to put under her mug, so as not to ruin his reading materials ...
The bat bit her lip in mirth.
Ma watched them. Love was so ... entertaining, really, to watch. Expressed in small, ordinary ways. It wasn't just grand gestures, romance. It was the things that happened in ordinary seconds. You wondered how it felt ...
The bat, sniffing her nose, looked back up. "But, uh ... she tried that?" she said again.
"She's desperate," was all Ma said. "If that means being redundant with her schemes, then ... anyway, she scored a touchdown tonight. Won over the crowd. 'The Board' won't silence her if it fears a decent backlash."
"They're not gonna let her join the team, are they?" Field asked. Nibbling on a ginger snap.
"You're getting crumbs," Adelaide whispered, "all over ... "
"I'm not!" he whispered back.
"I wouldn't think so," Ma said, still watching the two love-furs. "But ... perhaps. The first time she tried to join the team, she was stopped by the IHSAA, but ... 'The Board' will stop at nothing to win another title. Their scheme is reliant on it. Even one loss could put the confidence and fate of the team in jeopardy. If Spitznagle can ASSURE the team's ultimate victory? Then ... they'll find a way to circumvent the sanctioning bodies, and she'll play. Mark my words."
Field's whiskers were twitching. A bit anxious. And his nose sniffed. "What do we do?" he asked the two femmes. Looking from his mate to Ma ... and back again.
"We stop them," was Adelaide's determined response.
"But how?" the mouse asked. His tail snaking on the couch like a wayward rope, and ...
... Adelaide gently pinned it down, and grasped it. Clasped it in her paws. Trying to soothe him while saying, "We'll just have to think of something. There's no rush, is there, Ma? I mean, we don't have to solve this thing, like, tonight? We got a few days?"
The panther leaned fully back in her recliner. Her mug, like the mugs of the others, now empty. She put it down on a nearby lamp-stand. "The football season's still young, but ... the sooner we derail their championship dreams, the better."
Field raised a paw (just because), and spoke, "Well ... that's kind of, like, bad, isn't it? Aren't we gonna be rigging the games? Making OUR own town to lose?"
"No. We're just going to remove the robots from the squad," Ma said. "Remove the unfair advantage." A pause. A head-tilt. "They have one weakness, the robots, when it comes to football: they've got bad aim. They're strong, but ... they've bad throwing aim. That's why the team rushes the ball all the time."
"So, does everyone on the team KNOW ... about the robots?"
"No. Of course not. The identity of the robots is kept strictly secret ... except to those paying close attention. And I'm a very close attention-payer, as you know."
"For which we're grateful," Adelaide said, nodding her thanks.
Ma nodded back.
A pause.
"I don't suspect you two will have enough energy left," Ma reasoned, "to work out a plan tonight. So ... the morning will do."
"Energy?" Field asked, all innocent and wide-eyed, and whisker-twitching.
Ma raised her brow again. "Aren't you spent?"
"Of ... energy," Field whispered. "Oh." His ears turned rosy-pink. He and Adelaide hadn't had time to shower after their ... 'friendly time' ... he didn't know if Ma had an actual, keen sense of smell, but ...
"She's just giving us a hard time, Field," Adelaide said, smiling. And giving Ma a friendly, squinting look. "And, yeah, morning's fine."
"We can meet at my place," said Ma.
"Your place?"
Almost always, they met at Field and Adelaide's, which was, really, a safer place. A few miles outside of town, in the countryside. Open space. Ma's house was actually IN town, and ... well, after so many years of paranoia, you still couldn't be sure if you were being watched or not. Being bugged. Whether it was safe.
"You sure?" Adelaide pressed.
"Well, I just ... was suggesting ... I don't like having to put you out all the time. I mean, to impose on you. Your hospitality."
"You don't put us out, Ma," Adelaide insisted. "We like having you over."
"We do," Field chimed. "You're our most-frequent guest."
"Like family," Adelaide continued.
"Alright, alright ... you're going to make be blush," Ma said, halting the conversation. And ... her eyes darted. "Alright. We'll meet here. Safer, anyway." She nodded to herself. And took a breath. "I ... I don't trust many furs. I mean, not really. But I trust the two of you." She paused. "I ... wondered if you could help me."
"With what?" Adelaide asked, leaning forward. The pinks of her ... soft and warm in the living room light. She just LOOKED like she could be trusted. If you didn't know her, you'd not feel out-of-sorts walking right up to her ... and asking for directions or something. Is what Ma thought. But, then, was Ma really that advanced an expert on furry archetypes?
"Emotions."
They waited.
"I've always felt them. The whole range. But ... some of them I could block. I could mechanically dissect and store away. But it's getting harder to do," she whispered.
Adelaide blurted out, "You need a mate."
"What?" Ma blinked.
"Well ... love, really. Is ... that's the emotion, right? I didn't speak too soon?"
Ma sagged a bit, leaning forward, the recliner tilting forward with her. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, it's love, I mean. No ... you weren't wrong. I ... "
" ... are lonely."
"I have you. I have my friends. I have Super C, too. But ... I want MORE." A breath. "I feel a bit selfish, you know? I mean, I ... have so much. I wasn't made to HAVE all this. I was made for spying, for infiltration. For carrying out the work of 'The Board' ... with everything I've gained, and all that I've broken out of, I mean ... to want even more? I feel that would be overstepping my bounds. Like someone saying they're hungry, and they can't find anything good to eat ... when they have a kitchen full of food."
"Well, you're becoming more like a real fur all the time, Ma. I mean, it's only natural you'd want romance," Adelaide said gently. "I mean ... it's an expression of life. Of joy. To have a companion, to share things with. Yourself with. And ... to feel things with. It's ... we were made for it."
"I don't think anyone would wish to mate with a robot."
"Have you asked anyone?" the bat pressed, raising her brow. Smiling cheekily.
"No." Ma frowned. "Of course not."
"Well, Ma, I ... I didn't have a mate, or my first kiss, or ANYTHING," Field said, "until I was twenty." The mouse was currently twenty-two.
"As I recall, your first mate-ship ended very ... tragically," Ma said diplomatically.
Field flushed a bit. "Well, Christ got me out of that ... and ... I also found a mate who was," the mouse whispered, "genuine. And vibrant, and ... willing to sacrifice as much for me as I would sacrifice," he said, "for her." He stole a glance at Adelaide. And then looked back to Ma. "My point is: it's ... things happen in due time. Maybe," he said, "for some furs, it works out that ... you're young, and you hit it off right away. With someone. With anyone. But ... you kinda gotta fall flat on your muzzle a few times ... to REALLY appreciate true love when you DO find it. Without the struggle, the sacrifice ... how can you KNOW what you have, you know?"
"I anticipate a cliche is coming ... "
"You gotta walk the rocks," Field continued, ignoring her, "to see the mountain view. It's ... I was lonely for the longest time. Felt I was gonna die from it. I was so lonely," he admitted ... with a bit of shame, "that I bent my convictions to get ANY sort of affection. Even if it was empty, and only physical, and only ... instinct. I honed the art of lying to myself. But I know better," he whispered, "now. I know what's pure, and ... I know what love is."
"You make it sound like a journey," Ma said, frowning.
"It is," Field said quietly. "Love, like life, is a journey. But ... you know, my experience is my own. You'll have a different one."
"Just be sure it's love," Adelaide injected. "I mean, don't be so lonely and pitiful for a mate that ... you TELL yourself it's love. You know? Like ... the physical stuff? We'll all get old, and ... well, it'll creep to a halt, eventually. But the emotions, the spirituality ... will always be there. It's the bond that's got to hold. Both are important," she said knowingly, and grinned, casting a glance at Field. "You can't know how CLOSE you can be to a fur ... until you've come together like that. Repeatedly. To know each other, and ... bestow such ... "
" ... she, uh ... gets it," Field said, blushing.
"I feel like a child," Ma said. "Being given a romance talk."
"You asked," Field said.
"I know," the robot whispered. "I just don't know what to do about it."
"Well, you find a male fur, and you ... nose him, and ... you just ... it's not a connect-the-dots procedure," Adelaide said. "It's trial and error. To a point, anyway ... trial doesn't mean to loosely experiment ... "
" ... which I would never do," Ma assured. "I have a sense of decency."
"I know. I just ... don't wanna see you get hurt," was all Adelaide said. "As I said, you're our friend. We care about you."
Ma looked away. This was getting too uncomfortable. Too uncomfortable for her, and ... " ... I ... thank you," she said, "for your advice. It's helpful. But I'd like to talk about something else," she asked.
A pause.
"Are those new curtains?" Ma asked.
"No." Adelaide giggle-chittered.
"Oh."
"You'll find someone, Ma. Just ... have faith. That's what I did," said Field brightly.
"Some of us," Ma said, nodding at the mouse, looking him in the eyes, "have a purer heart than others ... child-like faith is easier for them."
"It's never been easy," Field whispered seriously. "Believe me ... but that's the POINT. You learn things. About yourself. About life. You're refined, ground into a gem ... you grow as time passes. You were only activated four years ago."
"My internal chronometer was locked at age thirty-three," Ma said, "at the time. I'm now thirty-seven," she said, "in appearance and function. I am older than both of you."
"In a way," Adelaide said. "In other ways? No ... but don't rush things. Don't buy into pity. You're Ma Sparta, town legend." A big smile. "If anyone can nab herself a mate, and figure love out ... you should be able to."
"I shouldn't have brought it up," Ma said, biting her lip. And sighing. She didn't feel very feline-like right now. Very predatory. But, then, she'd never been your typical predator.
"Ma, stop saying that. It's okay," the bat assured, getting up. And starting to collect all the mugs. "Now ... anyone want anything? More ginger snaps?" the bat asked, looking to Field, who ... like a moue with his paw caught in the cookie jar (for he was nibbling on another snap) ... shyly shook his head. And Adelaide chittered. "Alright."
"I'll get going." Ma rose, and smoothed her clothing, and ... eyed the door.
"Be back in the morning? For breakfast? Say ... nine?"
"That's fine," Ma said simply. She went for the door, and paused, and said, "I would lock your doors tonight."
"We always lock them," Field said. "We live outside of Sheridan."
Ma tilted her head. "Good point." And she put her paw on the knob. "I'm just saying that ... 'The Board' knows we're key members of the rebellion. If they want to protect their current scheme, they may try and take us out BEFORE we act."
Adelaide, returning from the kitchen (where she'd put the mugs in the sink), nodded. A look of seriousness on her muzzle. "We'll be on the lookout." A pause. "See you tomorrow?"
"Yes," Ma said again. And ... went into the dark. Into the October, crescent-mooned chill, with all the cold dew. And where the stars and the lingering leaves were all watching you.
Where reflecting on life, and on want, and on faith ... was not a choice.
But was mandatory.
"I know, in the past, we've been ... well, we've not seen eye-to-eye," said Stone, the French teacher. It was late. Near midnight, now, and in the hallways of Sheridan High School. There were four halls. They formed a perfect square. But there were more rooms, layers, and passageways to this school than immediately met the eye. The initial design was purposely simple.
Evelyn D. A sheep. The 'art appreciation' teacher, leaned against the painted, cement-blocked wall. "Go on." Evelyn D, wooly and enigmatic, wore a gaze of ... aloofness. Some mistook it for insanity. And maybe it was. But ...
" ... we need to work TOGETHER," Stone stressed, her voice at a whisper. The tabby cat purred. She was lithe, trim. Grey with white stripes. And her cocked ears were poised. She paced this way. And stopped. And paced that way, her tail like a lazy snake behind her. One with substance. The hallways were very dim. Every other neon, overhead light was on ... creating patches of light. And patches of shadow.
The darkness and the light.
That was their battlefield tonight.
"You saw what Spitznagle did out there," Stone said, in hushed tones. From all appearances, they were the only two teachers currently in the school. But appearances could be deceiving. It was well-known that Mr. Science often spent entire nights tending to his spider farm ... in the underground caverns. His Venezuelan Blues. "You saw it, right?" Stone grilled.
"Yeah, I saw it," Evelyn growled. Damn Spitznagle. "Some nerve. She's got SOME nerve to pull a stunt like that." The sheep bristled.
"We used to trust her."
"Used to," Evelyn spat.
"She's gonna get rid of us, you know. If she gains ANY sort of power, the first thing she'll do is ... have us thrown out the door." Stone squinted her slitted, golden eyes. "I say we don't wait for that. Not even the POSSIBILITY of it. I say we strike at her NOW, and ... in her void? We swoop in. Take her newfound clout, and ... do whatever the hell we want with it."
"Such language, Stone. Such language."
"Are you in?" was all the cat asked, in low, low sounds. Hard to tell if she was hissing or purring. Or both.
"Bah," the sheep went. "Bah, what are we gonna do, huh? I'm too old for this."
"I'm not." Stone meant business.
"Then go it alone."
"I can't," she insisted. "Evelyn, come on ... forget the shiny pennies. Forget the water music and the broken tapes. Forget having to share a classroom ... forget it. Just focus. On here. On now. On getting rid of Spitznagle."
"You still haven't told me HOW we're gonna get rid of her!" Evelyn said, her voice a bit loud now ... echoing in the empty halls. Going down, down, around ... around.
"Quiet!" Stone hissed, and ... paws grabbing Evelyn's wool, shoved her harder against the wall. They were near the library. Near the windows of the library. No one was there, but ... Spitznagle could've installed listening devices. Maybe. You just didn't know, dammit. You just didn't know!
Evelyn tried to push the cat away, but she was stronger.
"I'm the predator here," Stone whispered silkily. "Let's not forget that. I'm giving you the luxury of being asked, Evelyn ... but fact is: I need your help, and you're GOING to help me. Spitznagle is an enemy. I won't sit around and wait for her to snipe me off!"
"Alright, alright," the sheep rasped, and ... pushed.
Stone eased up, and stepped back. And squinted. Built to see well in the dark. "Good." An appreciative nod. "Good. I'm glad we're on the same page."
"What are we doing? Stop teasing me ... I'm not exactly prey."
"Not exactly," Stone said. "But close enough."
"Just tell me the plan."
Stone looked around. And closed her eyes, ears cocked. Listening. Making sure no one was even CLOSE to being around. And, opening her eyes, the French teacher said, "I'd rather show you."
The sheep tilted her head. "Show me?"
"Just follow me," she whispered, and ... padded, on her foot-paws, across the faded, lime-green tiles of the high school floor. Tiles that had seen thirty, forty years worth of students. Foot-paws. How many foot-paws had graced these halls?
And did it matter?
They walked, and ... reached Stone's room. Her door. She fumbled with her brass, clinking keys, and got one in. Turned it. Pushed the door open, and ... she and Evelyn disappeared inside.
The sheep reached to flick on the light.
"Don't! Don't ... don't," Stone whispered, "turn it on."
Evelyn grimaced. She didn't like being scolded.
"You got wool for brains? We need to be STEALTHY!"
"At least I'm not acting like I'm high on cat-nip!"
Stone scoffed. "Stuff's illegal."
"I know," said Evelyn, at a whisper. Staring ... and though she hadn't very good night-eyes, her stare was doing something to Stone.
The tabby cat stopped, and ... at a half-turn, looked away. "How much do you want?"
"For me to keep quiet about it?"
"Yes!" Stone hissed. "Just ... dammit, Evelyn."
"Four nips."
"Four nips?"
"Why? Too much?"
"No ... no," Stone whispered. "Half a nip's enough," she said, "for one go. Take a full one, and you're on the moon. Just make sure you got someone with you ... if you're taking a full dose. Else, you'll hurt yourself."
"Hardly worth it, then, is it ... "
Stone's eyes were dark. "It's worth it," she whispered, her throat dry. And hot. Remembering every sensation magnified. Sensitized. Hearing, smell ... increasing ... heart in your ears, and ... your whole body, all your strands of fur ... like a raw, pleasured nerve. And, afterwards, you had a headache, and it felt like beetles were boring in the backs of your eyes, and ... maybe you lost some brain cells, but who cared? It was a rush. And it was non-addictive. "It's worth it," she repeated, swallowing. Though she had less a soul now ... than she'd had before. Slivers of soul were impossible to get back.
"My mate and I ... will be thanking you, I'm sure," the sheep said, grinning as Stone went to her desk, unlocking the lowest compartment, and pulling out a container. Sorting four nips into a little plastic bag.
"You and your mate's yiffed-up drug-trips ... don't need to be in my head."
"Don't like sheep, do you, Stone?"
Stone tossed the bag to Evelyn, who pocketed it. "You're not exactly svelte. Or erotic. Just lots of unkempt wool. Rather homely, if you ask me."
"I guess you're different," Evelyn said, with a grin, but ... oh, a bitter grin. "I guess you're the cat's meow, huh?"
Stone bit her lip. To keep from spouting anything back at her. Instead, saying, "Look, Evelyn, as I said: we don't see eye-to-eye. We're not friends, but ... we use each other when we have to. And, right now, we have to. You know what Spitznagle's capable of when raged."
Evelyn didn't answer. She knew. Oh, she knew ...
"So," Stone whispered, trying to be polite. And swallowing. "So, let's go."
"Alright," Evelyn said, trying to ... sound kind.
The feline nodded to the sheep. And started padding toward the back of the room. "This cabinet here," she said, her grey-striped fur very bold in the moonlight that was filtering through the closed, rectangular windows. "This cabinet ... " She opened it. Swinging the doors out, and letting the heavy, metal padlock fall with a crack to the floor-tiles. And the cat bent down, and lifted the floor out of the cabinet! It was a fake panel, and ... a staircase.
"An entrance to the underground."
"The caverns. Yes. My own entrance. After Super C had that ... stupid Devil's Hollow installed, I was livid. I wanted my own gateway. So, I had this installed."
"How?"
"For a price."
"A price?"
The cat's eyes darted. "Let's just go down there, okay?" she said, changing the subject. And ... setting off. The stairway was spiraled, and it was narrow, but it widened as they went down. To the next level. And one more down. Until they were at the bottom of the underground tunnel/cavern system that ran beneath the school (and a few other parts of the town). It was dark. There were lit torches lining the rocky walls, and they cast the boldest, most elongated shadows ... the kind that could scare you. The kind that made you think that you weren't physically alone. Even if you were.
"Where are we going?"
"Tired of walking? Out of breath?"
"Well ... "
"Sheep," the cat scoffed. "No stamina. No grace." A breath. "We're going to beneath the bus barn."
"Why?"
"You'll see," Stone whispered, "when we get there." Her nose was sniffing the air. Her senses primed. She needed to be sure Mr. Science wasn't down here. So far, so good ... no one but them. After all, it was midnight on a Friday, and who among the teachers would be middling down here? Especially after another huge win by the football team?
A minute more, and they were there, and Stone used both paws to pull open the door-handles of the bus-barn bottom-basement, and ...
... inside, in the dim, dim light ...
" ... a trolley," Evelyn whispered. Almost in reverence. "A guard trolley. But ... the resistance poisoned all our trolleys. They were scrapped."
"Other Sheridan towns still have trolleys. Not every Sheridan town was ... taken down by its plebians. This baby? State-of-the-art," Stone whispered, nodding quietly. "State-of-the-art. I got her from Sheridan, Kentucky."
"What were they doing ... with such a fine trolley? It looks like the newest model!"
"Haven't a clue. But I acquired it. Through my own means." Stone padded up to it. Stone was a bit short. A bit stocky, but ... the gleam in her eyes made up for any diminutive stature.
"Your own means? Yiff and nip?"
Stone, ignoring Evelyn, continued (though, inside, feeling quite stung), "It has a missile launcher. It has everything. And it responds only to ME. Not 'The Board,' and not Spitznagle." Stone spun. In the half-light, she spun, and her eyes glowed, and she hissed, "We'll attack Spitznagle's house!"
"What? Tonight?"
"No, not tonight ... she'll be out 'celebrating' her triumph. No, tomorrow, when everything's had a day to settle. Tomorrow night. We take the trolley to her, and ... well, the trolley will do the deed. It's not on our paws." A pause. "Say it with me, Evelyn. 'It's not on our paws'."
"It's not on our paws," Evelyn whispered, though ... she sounded unsure. Hesitant?
"Evelyn, say it again."
"I just said it."
"Again!"
Evelyn sighed. "It's not on our paws."
"That's right. It's not." A satisfied nod. "I'm glad you agree." Stone turned back to the sleeping, sentient guard trolley, complete with gold rails and bells, and ... oh, it looked right out of a fading, Western prairie-town. It looked glorious. "And when we're done with Spitznagle, we'll ... focus on the rest."
"The rest?"
"'The Board' isn't the only group ... vying for control of this town. They'd like to think they are. They're the big bad. For now." A pause. A maniacal breath. "But one thing at a time, eh, Evelyn?" Stone grinned like only a feverish cat could.
And Evelyn D swallowed. And made a 'bah' sound.