Fluffy’s Revolution Read online
Fluffy’s Revolution
Ted Myers
© Copyright Ted Myers 2019
Black Rose Writing | Texas
© 2019 by Ted Myers
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.
The final approval for this literary material is granted by the author.
First digital version
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Print ISBN: 978-1-68433-231-1
PUBLISHED BY BLACK ROSE WRITING
www.blackrosewriting.com
Print edition produced in the United States of America
© 2019 Author Photo by Janet Caliri
Cover Design by Delbar Tourminaei (TRIXMEDIA Inc.)
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If you enjoy our book, please check out our recommended title for your next great read!
Culture-Z by Karl Andrew Marszalowicz
In the year 2190, mankind has made great strides forward in the worlds of technology, science, and greed. However, when all three get together one last time, this oblivious generation may not exist much longer.
To Alex, Lora, Brad, and Lily Moon.
In memory of Ron DeZure (1939-2018), Jaiananda, and Rocky
Special Thanks to Ron and Deborah for the readthrough and feedback
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Recommended Reading
Dedication
Chapter One – Welcome to the World
Chapter Two – The Plan
Chapter Three – The Triumvirate
Chapter Four – The Caper
Chapter Five – The Siege
Chapter Six – Loose Lips
Chapter Seven – On the Lam
Chapter Eight – Into the Woods
Chapter Nine – The Secret Valley
Chapter Ten – Love and the Big Rock
Chapter Eleven – Animal U
Chapter Twelve – Saving Dave
Chapter Thirteen – Eve of Destruction
Chapter Fourteen – End Times
Chapter Fifteen – The Final Push
About the Author
BRW Info
Chapter One – Welcome to the World
Fluffy was furious. Her tail bristled and twitched as she paced up and back on the professor’s long desk. Above the desk the big screen showed a web page with a news article: 10,000 GAB PETS EUTHANIZED IN MUMBAI. “Euthanized? Euthanized? Why don’t they call it what it is?” said Fluffy, “Murder, clear and simple.” Her voice emanated from the computer speakers, even as her words unfurled across the bottom of the screen like a news crawl.
Lately, Fluffy had been surfing the web every day, reading article after article about the efforts of humans to eradicate GAB (Genetically Altered Brain) animals and diatribes written by animal revolutionaries advocating a GAB uprising.
The professor looked at the article and shook his head sadly. “They’re doing the same thing here,” he said, “but Epps controls the media, so we don’t hear about it.”
“There’s a big demonstration in Haines Park tomorrow. Can we go, Dad?”
“No,” said the professor. “It’s just what Epps and his thug cops want: an excuse to beat and arrest more people and animals. Don’t you see, Fluffy? Government by the corporations is failing. The Triumvirate needs this trumped-up terrorist scare to distract the public. The GABs are a great target because they’re not human. There’s been no terrorism. They haven’t done anything beyond rhetoric, some vandalism and theft, and a few protests.”
“Well, maybe we should,” said Fluffy. “Maybe our only hope is to rise up against the human oppressors and fight for our rights.”
Fluffy was an exceptionally intelligent feline, even by 2135 standards. She had a lovely white face that peaked in a star in the center of her forehead. The rest of her was mostly gray-and-black tabby, but her chest, paws, and underbelly were pure white. She had long, thick fur, a bushy tail, and inquisitive green eyes that were outlined in black as if she were wearing eye makeup.
Professor James Riordan, the human Fluffy called Dad, was a once-handsome, graying man about sixty with rheumy blue eyes and a ruddy complexion.
“Humans are scum, Fluffy. Make no mistake about that,” said the professor. “But don’t try to match them in violence; no other species on the planet is as vicious. Don’t try to beat humans at their game; make them play yours.”
“But what is our game, Dad? I don’t want bloodshed, but the humans are killing my fellow GABs by the thousands. And what about all the human supporters? We don’t even know what’s happening to them. I can’t just sit by and watch.”
“GABs have unique skills,” said the professor. “Hone them, make yourself invaluable to humans with your powers of telepathy and telekinesis.”
It was only four o’clock in the afternoon and the professor was already in his cups. He had his reasons for drinking and being bitter. Once a prominent and respected writer and the most popular teacher in the English Department at Kingston University, he had resigned in disgrace when his colleagues, solely out of envy for his dynamic and innovative teaching methods and the love of his students, had set him up to be caught in a compromising position with a female student. They had hired the girl to entrap him, and to his eternal regret, he had gone for the bait.
It all started with the mouse brain experiments, way back in 2015, 120 years ago. Scientists had implanted elements of human DNA called enhancers into the brains of unborn mouse embryos. The resultant mice were born with brains that were twelve percent larger than the normal mouse brain. These new mice were called Genetically Altered Brain animals, or GABs. This and the many subsequent experiments were all done with the intention of learning more about the evolution of the human brain, and what made the human species evolve with a brain that was so superior to the rest of the animal kingdom. At the time, some people laughingly speculated that this might cause animal brains to become equal to human brains somewhere down the line. Scientists dismissed this as not being a possibility for thousands of years.
But something had happened. When they started enlarging the brains of domesticated animals―dogs, cats, and the occasional pig―and those animals mated and had offspring, the evolutionary process of their brains went haywire, and animal brains started evolving at a frightening rate, much the same as global warming had spun out of control in the late twenty-first century, and turned Kingston, New York into the largest seaport on the Eastern Seaboard.
Their bodies stayed the same as their brains evolved exponentially over the generations. To compensate for their physical limitations―such as the shape of their palates and tongues preventing them from speaking, and their lack of opposable thumbs preventing them from grasping or pulling a trigger―GAB animals gradually started to develop telepathic and telekinetic powers. At first, these expressed themselves as random acts of vandalism, such as moving valuable ob
jects off their shelves and smashing them when they were displeased by their “masters.” But now they had developed these abilities to enable them to open doors, feed themselves, and turn electronic devices on and off.
Humans, egged on by their corporate rulers, responded in a predictably human manner: with fear and hatred. They figured if these animals continued to proliferate while the human population was declining, they would soon take over and subjugate the humans, just as humans had done to animals for so many thousands of years. The Triumvirate, the troika of the world’s most powerful corporations who ruled the planet, decided to round up and suppress the “troublemakers,” outlawing animal access to computers, denouncing animal activists as terrorists. Ultimately, they instituted a worldwide policy of exterminating all GAB animals found without a human guardian.
When computers became thought-activated, the animals used it to blog, proclaiming their equality to humans and demanding their freedom. When voices became available, enabling GABs to speak out loud through computer speakers, Fluffy chose the voice of Katharine Hepburn, a film actress who had lived 200 years ago, because she sounded “defiant.”
Fluffy and the professor lived in the fashionable Upper East Side of Kingston, on the 150th floor of a high-rise overlooking the Kingston harbor and the bay beyond. The professor’s late wife, a woman of means from an old New York family, had bought the apartment, and the professor had inherited it when she died five years ago.
Since then, the professor had led a solitary life, and rarely interacted with other humans. And, at five years old, Fluffy had never interacted with anyone other than the professor. They had been each other’s sole companion since she was a kitten. Every day he would continue her education, recommending books, which she read on her own small tablet: great literature, modern fiction, memoirs, biographies, and history. Neither of them was too keen on math or science, but Fluffy studied biology and genetics to learn the history of her kind. Today, about a third of all the mice, dogs and cats, and about an eighth of all the pigs on Earth were GABs.
At night when the computers went off, Fluffy and the professor reverted to the traditional non-verbal relationship between man and cat. Fluffy would spend long hours purring in his lap while he brushed the tangles out of her fur or petted her and stroked her head in just the right way. She loved it when he read her Shakespeare’s sonnets, or her favorite poem—that one about the tiger by William Blake. But best of all were the movies. They both loved to watch the old movies made in the early twentieth century. The professor would run them before going to sleep. Fluffy would sit beside him on the bed and stare in fascination at these visions of an ancient black-and-white world, where people lived wildly, passionately, where cars and trucks and trains made loud noises, and where the only place animals spoke was in cartoons. When it was time to go to sleep, she would nuzzle up into the crook of his armpit and fall asleep breathing in that reassuring essence. To Fluffy, it was the smell of safety.
The next day, they watched the demonstration in the park on the big screen. Pro-animal rights people marched, carrying signs that said things like ALL BEINGS ARE EQUAL and STOP THE KILLING! And GAB animals marched without their tracking collars, levitating signs over their heads, that said things like IF I CAN DO THIS, I CAN LIVE FREE. Seeing animals do these things on TV scared the hell out of the ignorant masses. Soon, the riot cops arrived and turned the peaceful demonstration into a riot. They tear-gassed the crowd and rounded up as many protestors as they could catch. They stuffed them into big trucks, animals in some, humans in others, and carted them off to god knows where.
The professor turned off the screen and they sat in silence. At length, Fluffy spoke.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about Jack lately.”
“Who?”
Fluffy looked at him. “My brother, Jack… the one you didn’t take.”
The professor looked sheepish. She was right, of course. He should have taken Jack, even though he thought they were just ordinary cats.
Five years earlier, the professor had purchased Fluffy in an open-air flea market from a dirty-faced little girl, a poor kid of about seven. She was huddled against a fence behind one of the stalls with a box of newly-weaned kittens. She had two left; both looked like little balls of fluff. Riordan thought he’d get one for his wife, who was bed-ridden with terrible headaches. “How much do you want for this one?” he asked, picking up Fluffy.
“Two dollars.”
“Okay,” said the professor, handing her the money. “I think I’ll call her Athena, after the goddess of wisdom and heroism.”
“It’s Fluffy,” insisted the little girl.
“Okay, Fluffy.”
“You have to promise to keep it Fluffy or no sale. Promise?”
“I promise. What’s the other one’s name?”
“Jack. He’s the runt of the litter. Nobody wants him.”
“Too bad. Well, good luck, Jack,” said the professor, giving the last little furball a pat on the head, and he left with Fluffy tucked into the pocket of his coat.
The professor’s wife died of a brain hemorrhage a few days later, and Riordan channeled his grief into raising Fluffy as if she were his child. It wasn’t long before he realized he had purchased a genuine GAB.
He got her a little red rubber ball to bat around. This amused her for about a day. After that, she would stare intently at the ball for days on end. Finally, she got it to roll around without touching it. A few days after that she got it to levitate off the ground. She quickly discovered that, when she let it go in midair, it would bounce, and the higher she lifted it, the higher it would bounce. Pretty soon, she was getting her kicks by bouncing the ball into the professor’s soup during dinner.
So, the professor tried an experiment. He bought a coloring book with pictures of animals and a set of crayons. He took the crayons out of the box and colored in the first page for Fluffy―a lion. Then he left her alone with the book and the crayons. Within a day she was able to lift a crayon and make marks on the paper. By the second day, she could color inside the lines with one crayon. By the third day, she could color an entire page in different colors. From there, it progressed to learning her ABC’s, reading, and ultimately writing. One day, the professor woke up and found a page from the coloring book on the floor. Fluffy had colored a picture of a cat. She made it look like her. Under it was a single word written in crude block letters in red crayon: JACK. Fluffy had written the name of her lost brother.
“I keep thinking Jack is calling out to me,” said Fluffy. “Like he’s in trouble of some kind.” She had spoken of getting psychic communications from her brother for years, but the professor thought she was imagining it.
“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t take Jack when I took you, alright? I made a mistake. In any case, there’s nothing we can do to help Jack now.”
Fluffy was silent. She just moped around the house and didn’t speak for the next few days. She even stopped watching the old movies and slept on a chair in the living room. The professor was worried. At last, he insisted she tell him what was on her mind.
“I have to find my brother.”
“Fluffy, you’re not thinking of going out there?” The professor indicated the bustling city below.
“Yes, I have to. I know he needs me. And I want to find other GABs and join the resistance.”
The professor stood up and threw up his hands in exasperation. “Fluffy, that’s crazy. Your chances of survival are nil. With your experience of the world…”
“I’m going,” she said.
He walked to the balcony and gazed down at the city. “Then I’ll go with you.”
“No, you’ll just attract attention and get us both in trouble. No, I have to do this alone.”
 
; “Fluffy, you don’t have any idea what it’s like for an animal alone in the world. The Animal Control people are everywhere, scouring the streets for strays, sucking them up by the dozens, and taking them off to the extermination centers.”
“I have to chance it, Dad. This is just something I have to do.”
“But how do you expect to find him? There’s a huge, crowded city out there.”
“He will guide me to him.”
The professor hung his head. He thought for a long moment. “I guess I can’t stop you. You’re all grown up now. So, when are you leaving?”
Fluffy looked at the floor. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt her dad, and she knew she was about to do it. “Now. Can you please take off my tracking collar?”
Every GAB animal was required to wear a collar which enabled Animal Control to see their exact location at any moment, anywhere in the world. The professor unclasped Fluffy’s collar. He had tears in his eyes. “I’ll move it around the house every day, so they think you’re still here,” he said. “Do you want me to take you down in the elevator?”
“No,” said Fluffy. “I need to practice my telekinesis. Let me try to get out by myself.”
Fluffy rubbed up against his leg, the equivalent of a hug. Riordan impulsively scooped her up, hugged her to his chest, kissed her on the head, then put her back down. She looked intently at the front door of the apartment, turned the locks, then the doorknob, and pulled the heavy steel door open. Then Fluffy was out in the hallway. She turned and looked back at the professor. Riordan thought he could see sadness in her eyes.