Menagerie

by A.K. Meek

  ***

  The meeting ended at 3:30. John finished his mighty oration exactly in the hour-and-a-half allotted time. He didn’t throw up. Not only that, but he didn’t hyperventilate or pass out.

  It was perfect; informative, witty but not droll, absolutely enjoyable. He took the subject of formatting final reports to a whole new level. This was not Vomit John that gave the presentation.

  After the presentation, several junior analysts surrounded him, patting his back and begging him for more. He waved his arms and laughed in a hearty manner unheard of from him.

  The parrot, dressed in red, blue, and yellow feathers, tucked its head under one wing.

  People pushed each other so they could be the next one to rub its feathered head. Several took pictures of the duo with their camera phones and posted them to their social profiles. John and his parrot received tens of ‘likes’ within a few minutes.

  The bird worked. The stupid bird actually worked. It helped Vomit John conquer his fear.

  Just a week before the presentation, John stood outside Tim’s cubicle. He knocked on the cubicle door, making no sound since the door was nothing more than empty air. Tim rolled his eyes at John’s perpetual knock-knock joke.

  “What do you want, John? I’m busy.”

  “Have I told you what papa is getting me?”

  “You told me yesterday. Something really cool.”

  “He’s getting me a bird.”

  “I’ll give you the bird for free.” John missed that particularly fitting repartee.

  “Papa is getting me a parrot, a Menagerie. It’s going to help me here at work.”

  “That’s positively riveting, but I have work to do. Five-thousand lines of data to scrub.”

  “Oh, okay Tim. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Tim popped his head up above the cubicle partition and watched John make his way through the office maze.

  He was not a terrible kid, just a little immature at times. It was easy to forget that he and John were the same age. John’s father worked for the Acme Corporation, designing toys. Maybe that’s why John acted immature, his dad plays with toys for a living.

  Tim thought about that for a minute and chuckled.

  Acme

  The Acme Corporation created the finest children’s toys. In a day when so many companies focused on manufacturing military weapons and equipment, Acme, a fledgling toy company, thought about the children affected by decades of war.

  The world-wide stalemate depleted military and company stockpiles. After the wars, many companies failed, but Acme remained. They aided near bankrupt industries with loans, buying unrealized technological innovations for needed credits.

  Acme flourished during this time. Its production factories laid the foundation for the rebirth of Corinth. The Acme Corporation provided jobs, life, to a dying city. The citizens of Corinth and a grateful nation considered Acme a national institution.

  The company utilized its massive repository of technological innovations and branched into diverse markets beyond ordinary toys. They started crafting robotic toys.

  John’s father, Mr. Barron, headed research and development for an exciting new product line, the Menagerie.

  Mr. Barron exploited his background in biochemistry and developed underlying chemically reactive circuitry as the backbone to the animals. His original idea was to enhance the mechanical motion of the toys, giving a sensation of ‘realness’ to the simulacrum. The team, through biochemical neuromodulation experiments, created something quite different.

  In the team’s experiments, they discovered a way to link the robots to humans through chemical methods. For several years, they refined the process, carefully working out most of the bugs. The robotic animals exhibited more natural qualities than any previous artificial toy and propelled Acme ahead of their competitors, companies such as Vital Viz and the deeply rooted virtua technology. In the end, Mr. Barron and his development department realized they were onto something great, something more than a toy.

  Menagerie was a cultural revolution.

  Mr. Barron gave his son a Menagerie prototype, a parrot.

  Mr. Toady

  The elevator stopped on the 83rd floor, lurching to an unexpected, painful stop twice. The trip took over four minutes.

  The skyscraping buildings of Corinth demanded cutting edge elevator technology. Now, an elevator could move 100 floors in a few seconds, the rapid acceleration and deceleration scarcely noticeable to the occupants.

  But not in the Palisades, the residential building cluster where Tim lived. They were constructed over 20 years ago. Elevator technology passed the residents by, too costly to upgrade existing archaic systems.

  The elevator doors hissed open, and Tim stepped out onto his floor and made his way to apartment 83-A005, deep inside the heart of the building. Upon recognizing his physiology, the door slid open and welcomed him home.

  Apartments on the 83rd floor were nicer than those on the 82nd, but not as nice as those on the 84th.

  His home was small, a rectangular room with a counter that separated the kitchen area from the dining room area. A thin hallway led to his bedroom and bathroom, both about the same size.

  He took his hat, a particularly retro black velvet fedora with a prominent—but not garish—peacock feather tucked in the band and hung it on his hat wall.

  His LX-500 came to life when it sensed his arrival. A one-foot square box in one corner of the living room projected a floating two-dimensional image, like a screen of living glass suspended in the room.

  Tim chose a young, adventurous girl’s voice to be his LX television’s personality.

  “Welcome home, Timothy,” his LX said. “You have three notifications, but they all looked like spam, so I took the liberty to delete them. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Tim’s social profile interface faded away and commercials began.

  He went to his pantry and grabbed an almost empty bag of chips that had been his after work snack for the past week. The lack of crunch told him he forgot to seal the bag since the last time it was open. He looked for something else. A jar of peanut butter and a processed chicken dinner were the alternatives. The reason for the peanut butter in the pantry was entirely lost at this point since Tim hated peanut butter.

  He pitched the chicken dinner into his magnawave, a bucket-like appliance on the kitchen counter. Sensors detected the chicken dinner and a red magnetic field materialized over the bowl and the meal started cooking. After four seconds, the magnawave shuddered, and the magnetic field dimmed. Tim slapped the side of the magnawave. It hissed and sputtered in protest then shut off altogether.

  He fanned the charred smell away and took the ashy, shriveled box that once was a dinner and tossed it in the trash.

  Tim opened the bag and popped another chip in his mouth. Given the choices, the crunch-less chips weren’t that awful. With the bag in hand he plopped onto his couch.

  News interrupted the commercial stream, replaying the day’s events. Tim idly read the chip bag. After a few minutes, the news ended and another set of commercials began.

  The LX-500 Projection Screen’s Virtua Rendering technology kicked in.

  The Acme commercial ignited the room in violent colors. The reds, blues, and yellows juxtaposed, burning with an unholy fire. Acme’s marketing team had no peers.

  Colors leaped from the two-dimensional projection in the center of the living room and danced around Tim for a few seconds, swirling, eddying in pools of hue. They blended, shaped and formed. A few more seconds and the colors solidified into animals. Small animals of all types jumped, crawled, and flew throughout the apartment. They cried and howled in tiny animal voices. Music started softly at first, a cheery tune with distinct zips and zings keeping beat. The crescendo became an overwhelming cacophonous sound.

  Tim startled at the sudden invasion of the seemingly real menagerie. This was the reason he saved up three months for a down payment on the LX model.

  A voi
ce boomed from the projection set as otherworldly words appeared in the air and circled around him.

  Timothy Hollow, be the first on your floor, in your building, to join the Menagerie. Choose from a variety of animals to be your companion.

  Playful music swirled along with the Menagerie. An otter chased a chipmunk along the back of the couch. Ethereal rabbits, squirrels, and birds spun like a carousel on the kitchen counter in the tiny apartment.

  The friendly pets of the Menagerie will be your lifetime companions, helping you through the tough times in life.

  Tim watched the display, mesmerized by the commercial. The music swelled again.

  Just a small amount of body fluid and you are linked to your forever friend. Go to your nearest Acme Store for a Menagerie today!

  The music died, the colors faded. The commercial ended. As quickly as the Menagerie invaded Tim’s apartment, they left just as quickly. He closed his eyes as his head still swam from the sensory barrage. The LX-500 was worth every credit saved.

  A chime and Tim’s eyes opened and the euphoria finally dissipated.

  “Timothy, your mother is here,” his door said.

  He jumped up, brushed crumbs off his lap, and tossed the bag of chips back in the pantry. “Come in,” he said.

  Mom rushed in the doorway, scanned the apartment, and scooped Tim up in her elderly, but powerful, arms in an embarrassing hug. He barely hugged back. At least no one witnessed the display.

  “Timothy, my baby, how are—what is that smell? Were you cooking?”

  “The magnawave. It’s acting up again.”

  “You need a nice woman to do your cooking for you. How are you?”

  “I’m fine mom, just like yesterday when you were here.”

  “That’s not reassuring. You looked sick yesterday and no better today. But let me tell you, Timothy, I had the most terrible dream about you last night. You were fired from your job. I couldn’t believe it, you were fired.”

  Tim finally broke away from his mother’s hug. “That was just a dream.”

  She went to the front door and picked up the bag she left in the hallway. “It was so real,” she said. “You know I worry about your wellbeing. Anyway, I was walking to Le Monde’s for breakfast this morning. It is the first Tuesday of the month today, and you know I always go to Le Monde’s on this day.”

  “I know mom.” Tim looked in his fridge for something to eat.

  “Anyway, I was walking to Le Monde’s, and you know I pass by Acme on the way there. When I walked by this morning there was a crowd, a huge crowd. Well, I just couldn’t pass by there without seeing what was going on. You know curiosity gets the best of me.”

  “I know mom, you are quite curious and involved.” He found half a sandwich, and after smelling it, decided to eat it.

  “I worked my way to the front window,” mom said, “and let me tell you, it was like a carnival. The store was a carnival! Every kind of animal ran through that store.”

  “Yeah mom, I know. That’s the new toy from Acme, the Menagerie. I just saw it—”

  “Oh no. They’re not toys. I spoke with one of the salesmen for over thirty minutes. He said they’re not toys. They’re meant for adults. I told him about the dream I had, and he said that you were exactly the sort of person that could use one.”

  “But I’m not losing my job. I’m fine. Of course he would say that, he probably gets a commission.”

  “Timothy Hollow, you need to stop being so cynical all the time. I never raised you like that. The salesman was very helpful and was insistent that I buy one. He even gave me a special discount.”

  Tim stopped chewing. “Mother, you didn’t.”

  She pulled a brown box from the Acme Store shopping bag she held and handed it to him. “Yes I did. Don’t worry about the cost, you can pay me back a few credits each month.”

  It was about the size of a shoebox with a large typographic ‘Menagerie’ emblazoned across the top.

  “Well, are you going to take it?” she said.

  “Uhm, yeah.”

  Tim took the box. It weighed as if it contained something light. An urge to shake it came over him, but mom probably would’ve disapproved of that. But now that he held it in his hands, an unmistakable sound of tiny scratching nails escaped from the little prison.

  He looked at him and her smile couldn’t be any bigger.

  Something like a rhino or an elephant probably would lunge from the box and trample him to death. No, that would be too quick. A long time ago he came to the conclusion that his mother would kill him with one of her presents. This may be that present, and if so, it would surely be a slow and painful death.

  He wiggled the lid loose and raised one corner from the bottom. A round yellow eye stared back at him. Mom clapped her hands.

  “It’s a toad!”

  The toad leaped toward Tim. He yelled and dropped the box. It grabbed hold of the front of his shirt. Tim shrieked again and tried brushing it off with his flailing arms and hands.

  “Get it off me.”

  “Doesn’t it remind you of Mr. Toady? Remember when you were seven, we took the tubes to the countryside? You turned that rock over and found Mr. Toady underneath it. Of course you named him Mr. Toady. You cried for a week after you realized he couldn’t live very long in your back pocket.”

  “I just didn’t expect to be attacked by it.” Tim used a fold in his shirt and grabbed the large, palm sized toad from the front of his shirt. Its back legs hung limply from its bloated body.

  “Attacked, how cute. You always were one to shy away from anything exciting.”

  He put the toad back in the box and firmly pressed the lid back on top. He put it on his counter.

  “Well, I have to go,” mom said. “You know me, always busy. I just couldn’t wait to bring your gift over to see your happiness.” She grabbed her son in another hug then pushed him back and lifted up one arm, examining it.

  “I’m sure it’ll help you. Maybe it can tell you to eat more, or help you find a nice woman. You’re wasting away.”

  “I know, I know.”

  She took the Acme bag, carefully folded it, and then put it in her purse. The door hissed open so that she continued into the hallway without having to stop.

  Tim leaned on the stool, breathing heavily. He felt like he hadn’t taken a complete breath the entire time she was there.

  The Menagerie box sat on the counter. On the side of it, a label gave easy 1-2-3 instructions: One, put a drop of fluid (saliva or blood) in its mouth. Two, wait for 24 hours. Three, tell your dreams and fears to your forever friend.

  Girl with a Squirrel

  Transit tuble L5-23 used to be fast. Fifteen minutes and he was from his front door to Building Seven. But now there were more stops, more people. Once or twice in the past month, he had to take an elevator to the next transit station, about 100 floors up. Daily commutes became a shuffle of humanity from one end of town to the other.

  Tim adjusted his hat, a blue fedora with an exaggerated gutter dent and custom trim ribbon, in a feeble attempt to block his view from the crush of people in tube L5-23.

  The ceiling of the capsule illuminated with projection models of a building cluster and an advertisement blared with good news of an apartment community opening on the north end of Corinth.

  The Babylon cluster boasted two 500 floor complexes and dedicated transit tubes to downtown. The projection switched to elegant renderings of apartment suites.

  Another stop and a few people exited, but many more entered. A young, attractive lady pushed through the crowd and stood next to Tim. She held something small and furry that covered her hand.

  Tim shifted his hat so that he could get a better look but without her noticing him looking at her.

  She appeared in her early thirties, a few years younger than him, and wore a tight fitting burgundy spandex suit with a matching cashmere beret. Hints of light blonde hair escaped from under the soft cap edge. Her hair complemented her light skin.<
br />
  After a couple more transit stops, she held up her hand. A baby squirrel clung tightly to her finger, its fluffy tail wrapped around her wrist. She faced Tim. “Do you like my squirrel?” she said.

  “Well, uhm... Sorry, I didn’t mean—yeah. I wasn’t sure what it was.”

  “This is my Menagerie, Chipper. Daddy bought him for me a few days ago.”

  “I haven’t seen you on this tube before. New here?”

  “No. Well, yes,” she said. “Actually, this is the first time I’ve been on a level five tube. I’ve never been on anything higher than a level one, not until I got Chipper.”

  The squirrel ran up her arm and circled around her head, making short chirps. She laughed. “Isn’t he real? He’s truly amazing.”

  Tim said, “He helped you get on a level five tube? So you’ve never been higher than this? Do you live at street level, are you a surfie?”

  “What? Live at street level. A surfie. I’ve never lived below two-hundred. I use elevators. It’s just high tubes I don’t like.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by saying you live on street level.”

  “Oh, okay. Chipper conquered my fear of heights. Not heights, but high tubes. Ever since I can remember I’ve been afraid of riding the higher tubes. I used to think the capsule I was riding in would speed away, break through the tubes and spill everyone onboard across Corinth, falling to their deaths.”

  “That’s quite an understandable fear,” Tim said. “I often think of that myself, but at a point you just do it anyway. By the way, I have a Menagerie.”

  “You? Really? What—where is it?”

  “It’s in my apartment.”

  “You haven’t linked to it yet? So what is it? I bet it’s a bird. You look like someone that would choose a bird.”

  “Actually, it’s a to—a bird. A parrot,” Tim said.

  “Really, I knew it.”

  The familiar tube voice indicated the capsule stopped at the terminal of Building Seven of March. The doors opened.

  “This is my stop,” Tim said. “I think you did a great job on the L5. Maybe I’ll see you on it again.” He exited the capsule and turned to her and waved.

  She plucked the squirrel off the top of her beret and waved one of its furry little arms. “Sure. Maybe next time you’ll have your bird with you.”

  The tube voice said the doors were about to close. They did and the capsule sped down the tube on its perpetual route.

  Tim walked slow, trying to restructure the conversation he just had with, with... He stopped.

  He didn’t ask for her name.

  People brushed his arm as they maneuvered around him to get to the elevators. Several grunts and curses reminded him that he blocked the thoroughfare.

  How could he forget to get her name? She didn’t know his either. His analytical mind worked, building a list of at least two flaws in the conversation.

  The first flaw, besides not getting her name, was not getting her profile number. He didn’t give her his number. After all, isn’t that what a profile number is for, so people can easily find you on the cloud?

  The second flaw, the outright lie about his new Menagerie acquisition, the toad. A bird sounded more regal than a toad. Maybe even a squirrel, like her’s. Any other animal sounded superior to a toad. This lie may be harder to work out than the other lie.

  He continued on the elevator to floor 98.