FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

CONTENT WARNING: threatening behaviour, parental violence, foul language, unusual sexual kink, T

STAVE THE FIRST

“Alice, you are forbidden to discuss this memo beyond these walls until it is sent on Christmas Eve morning. Do you understand?”

“Or what sir?” the otter girl replied.“You’ll fire me too?”

“Ah, I see you found your own name in the list.” The old bear chuckled. “Well Alice, Lelland and Fellows Arts has many customers and some of them are obligatory predators. And some of them are willing to disregard predation laws, even advocate repealing them. It would be a shame for your family if you were to… go missing on Christmas Eve, don't you think?”

Alice looked at Jeremy Fellows as if he himself was stalking her.

“You wouldn't,” she pleaded, “even you wouldn't…”

“Wouldn't I?”

Her lower lip trembled. “You would,” she whimpered.

“So what will you do?”

“I won't say a word about the memo. Sir,” she added, hastily.

“Until?”

“Ever, sir.”

“Until it's sent, Alice. I don't give a rat’s ass what you say about it after all the employees on the list have been officially fired.

“That will be all, Ms. Smilee. Type up the memo and have it ready to send by private email first thing in the morning, then you may retire for the evening. Oh, and Alice?” Jeremy smiled a smug, predatory smile, “Have a happy Christmas.”

Jeremy chuckled in his throat, right up until the door to his office opened. His face fell in shock at what was waiting on the other side. At first Alice ignored the sudden change in his expression, wanting only to get the hell away from him. Then, turning to go through the door, she saw it, too and stopped dead in her tracks.

There were two of them; two wolves, two very big wolves, one male, one female, standing blocking the exit. Both wore nothing but a visor and black nanochain armour that showed off so much, so very much of their figures and hinted so very broadly at what it didn't actually show, coating their coats like black latex. Jeremy hardly needed to glance at their faces to know exactly who they were. As a (former) graphics designer, he knew the colour of their visors by heart; Pantone #c74375, Forbidden Fuchsia, the colour of The Corpse, (or however those terrorist perverts pronounced that K word.) Oh, and they each wore a silly, superfluous Santa hat.

“It's okay sweetie,” the female cooed. “We won't let the big, bad capitalist chud feed you to his clients. Hey, know what might make you feel better? Go down to the table beside the break room, get a big ol' mug of hot cocoa and tell Agent Tap all about it. She's a nice otter.”

“Otter?” said Alice.

“Uh huh. Just tell her the wolves at the door sent you.”

The two wolves ushered Alice out of the room with surprisingly gentle hands on her shoulders. They seemed to be honestly friendly towards her. (Yeah, Jeremy would just bet those perverts were “friendly.”) They stepped inside and the male unrolled a short scroll.

“Jeremy Peter Fellows,” he read, “you are invited to attend a modern day performance of Charles Dickens ‘A Christmas Carol’ starring yourself as Ebeneezer Scrooge. Our follies will take place in the break room at once. Attendance is mandatory…”

“Or what?”

The big wolf sighed.

“Or we pick you up by your armpits and carry you there,” the female replied.

For a few seconds Jeremy hesitated, but at last he stood and approached the agents.

“Does it have to be the break room?” he grumbled.

“Yes,” they replied together.

“The place is a pigsty.”

“And who's fault is that?” said the male.

“You know nothing about how pigs live,” the female added.

#

A wolverine wearing nanochain and a visor like the wolves, stood at the front door to the break room. He issued each wolf a gas mask.

“I'm taking one of those!” Jeremy declared.

“No you're not,” the wolverine replied. “You created the stench in there, you can fuckin’ well bear it.”

“Bear it! You don't seem to understand that you're talking to a full grown brown bear!”

“And you're talkin’ to a full grown north american most weasel. I eat fuckin’ brown bears for lunch. G’wan sucker, the follies ‘r waitin’.”

The two wolves grabbed Jeremy by his arms and pushed him towards the front door. As they passed the wolverine, he noticed his secretary with another otter girl, (in a showy, tan, one piece bathing suit), by a table near the back door, along with an american badger, (the mean-looking kind), and a mostly white bunny boy.

“Don't worry sweetie,” the other otter was saying. “By the time we're through with that ol' meanie pants, you’ll hardly even recognize him…”

Then he was through the door and into the break room.

STAVE THE SECOND

The stench was unbelievable. There was a big, display refrigerator full of slowly rotting, abandoned lunches and snacks. There was a row of microwave ovens, each with a crust of dehydrated God-knew-what in and around it. There was a sink piled high with dishes that hadn't been washed in ages set in a counter in the same condition. The only fresh smell in the room was cigarette smoke, possibly some cannabis smoke as well, and even that was joined by its staler cousins, contained in dirty dishes that had been shanghaied as ashtrays. Even the tables and chairs were coated in various messes and layers of dust and dirt, all contributing to the general, horrible, all-pervading stench.

All, that is, except for one table in the middle of the room which had been recently cleaned to its original colour and lack of scent and a strip of floor from the front door past this one table (and under it) to the back door. In the middle of the table stood a Christmas tree, its boughs trimmed with tinsel, ornaments and lights, all of them Forbidden Fuchsia even to the star on top. Two chairs as well had been made fit to sit in, positioned at the end of the table near the clean strip of floor.

In one of those chairs sat an old beaver. He wore thick glasses over his gray temples and a business suit that might have been fashionable when he was a young man, but was obviously comfortable now. (Beside him stood a thin-tailed rodent of some kind. But dressed as the other agents and wearing a gas mask, it was hard to tell just what she was.) The beaver looked around himself at the mess again, then noticed the wolves approaching with their Scrooge.

“Guy Lelland,” Jeremy admitted as he sat.

“Jeremy! What the hell is this… all this mess? How can you expect the crew to eat here?”

“Can't you guess old man?”

The wolf boy tapped Jeremy on the back of his head.

“Hey,” he said, “let's keep this civil.”

“Don't call Mr. Lelland old man,” the wolf girl added. “You're the same age as him.”

“Give or take a couple months,” Lelland’s rodent companion chirped in.

“And what if I don't want to?” Jeremy sneered.

The wolves grabbed his arms, turned to hold them with both hands. They stared at his chest. At first Jeremy glared at them, but then he looked down at his chest too, with growing concern. He started to pant. Then his tie caught fire.

“Hey!” Guy yelled. “Stop that, don't hurt him!”

The rodent put a cautionary paw on Guy’s shoulder.

“We know what we're doing, sir,” she said.

“Are you gonna behave?” the wolf boy said.

“Stop it!” Jeremy cried. “Put me out!”

“Are you going to behave?” the wolf girl demanded.

“Put me out and we'll talk… AHH! Put me out!”

Jeremy’s shirt and lapels caught fire. There was a hint in the smoke of scorched fur.

“I’ll behave! I’ll behave! Put me out!”

“What's the magic word?” the boy wolf said.

“Please! Please put me out!”

The flames had gone out by the time Jeremy had finished begging. The wolf girl rubbed the burned spot on his chest; frost formed where her hand touched.

“Now let that draw the excess heat out of your skin and the injury should be minimal.”

“We won't kill you,” the wolf boy said. “We'll try not to injure you.”

“But we are terrorists,” the wolf girl added, “with super powers.”

“Don't forget that,” the rodent added. “Now how about answering Mr. Lelland’s question.”

Jeremy hesitated. He looked around himself, sizing up the situation; his expression sank slowly in his vest. He scowled a moment in concentration. Then his thin lips curled up and he sneered at Guy.

“I don't owe you an explanation,” he said. “I bought you out, this is my company now and I’ll run it as I please. But I’ll explain anyway,” he added, holding up a hand to the wolves, “because this is my pride and joy!”

“Pride! This awful mess? It looks like nobody’s cleaned in here since I retired!”

“Not quite, but close. What you see and smell, Lelland, is an abject lesson in the nature of people.”

“I think you mean object lesson…” Guy took another sniff and winced. “No, you said what you meant. Go on.”

“You can't see it behind that pile of dishes, but there's a sign over the sink. Know what it says?”

“Obviously not.”

“It says, it's the crew’s mess, let them clean it up.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I cancelled the maid service. The crew had to do their own cleaning. And I told the janitors, mop the floor, nothing more. Catchy slogan, eh?”

“Some of the crew would have obeyed the sign and cleaned up after themselves. Some slobs wouldn't. So what did you do about the slobs?”

“Turned a blind eye of course. I eat lunch in my office, it doesn't bother me.

“Naturally the slobs got mad when the good boys and girls only cleaned their own messes and not theirs, too. The slobs felt entitled to the service. So they started leaving the biggest messes they could make where the good boys and girls couldn't avoid them.”

“And the good kids started giving up.”

“You're finally catching on, Lelland. One by one the good boys and girls started eating at their desks until there were just a couple of good boys left. First the slobs then the whole crew were harassing them to clean up the fucking break room so they could use it again.”

“Harassed them into quitting.”

“Well well, got it in one, Lelland. Maybe you’re not as stupid as I took you for.”

“It was entirely foreseeable that this would happen as soon as you cancelled the maid service. That's why we got it in the first place! And the maid service wouldn't have cost as much if we’d equipped the break room with a couple of dishwashers, like I wanted!”

Jeremy laughed aloud. “Can't let go of those dishwashers, can you. Never gonna let them go.”

“They would’ve saved us money on maid service, paid for themselves decades ago.”

Jeremy laughed even harder.

“But you wanted the extra expense on the maid service for an excuse to cancel it.”

“You're so cute when you're angry.”

“It always worried me when you said that.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Why would a straight man notice if another man is cute?”

The wolf boy and the rodent gripped their charges’ shoulders.

“That's enough!” the wolf girl exclaimed. “Both of you, keep it civil!”

“I'm not the one calling me a fa…”

The wolf girl’s hand gripped Jeremy's muzzle. “Let me hear that f-word leave your mouth,” she said, “and they’ll be carrying you out in a block of ice! Guy, don't infer that Jeremy is gay.”

“Sorry,” the beaver replied. “So now the crew have to eat at their stations and only the smokers use the break room. And what, beyond an artistic statement, has that accomplished?”

“Guess.”

“No.”

Jeremy looked up at his captors. “Do I have to tell him?”

“Tell him!” they growled together.

“I guess I have to tell you. Since they eat at their desks, they have to keep working while they eat…”

“You did this to deny the crew their breaks?”

“Made you guess! Made you guess!”

Jeremy laughed aloud, pointing at Guy as he did. Guy didn't look, he rubbed his temples instead.

“Jeremy,” he said, “you promised me… it was in our contract that you’d take care of the crew, treat them decently, the way I did! How do you call this decent treatment? It's a breach of contract, Jeremy! You can't do this!”

“It's a breach of contract when the little guy, (that's you, Guy), doesn't do what he promised the big guy, (that's Lelland and Fellows Arts.) When the big guy doesn't do what he promised the little guy, that's too fucking bad! What are you really going to do, sue me? When I bought you out, LAFA was a tiny local studio worth less than fifty million annual profit. Without you weighing it down, we’ve grown north of a billion! We were in Forbes Top 500 last year. You think you can afford better lawyers than me?”

“And now this memo!” Guy picked up a stenographer’s pad from his lap. “To all artists and certain others,” he read.

“Where did you get that?”

“From Alice. She let me see it because the core promised to protect her.”

“Core? That's how they pronounce that k-word?”

“Yes,” the three agents replied.

“One,” Guy continued, “everyone who receives this memo is fired as of immediately. Your services are no longer required. Two, you are reminded that everything you did while working for the company that can be described as artistic and is work-for-hire, whether it was assigned to you by the company or done privately and it belongs to Lelland and Fellows Arts. You have until January first to turn everything in. Don't forget things like labels and birthday cards. Three… Jeremy, no, we don't try to steal work they do that isn't company related! That's not fair!”

“Not fair to who? Nothing could be fairer to me. Besides, it's in their contract. If they make it, we own it. The end.”

“It's not fair to them, Jeremy!”

“You think I give a rat's ass about a bunch of artists?”

“Hey! Watch it!” the rodent snapped.

“Artists are a dime a dozen Guy. You can't spit on a street corner without hitting a few. What you never got is the purpose of employees is to add to the value of the company, not take away from it again. These worthless hobe artists ought to be working for free! All employees should.”

“Well you just fired all your artists so now what’re you going to do?”

“Keep reading. Three.”

Guy looked back to Alice's steno pad.

“Three,” he read. “You may have heard that the company will from now on generate all of its art using AI?” For a moment Guy glanced at Jeremy in astonishment. “Any former employee who spreads this rumour will be guilty of libel and sued accordingly. As you may know, in Canada libel can be proven if damage might have been done by the spreading of news, notwithstanding whether it is true. Lelland and Fellows Arts has a current value of one point one billion dollars and we will sue the employee, their family and survivors for the full amount… I’m no lawyer and even I know that wouldn't fly in court!”

“It doesn't have to. It just has to be scary enough to make the suckers keep their traps shut until we make our own spin on it.”

“And what's your own spin? Pay us for something you can get online for free?”

“There's a consequence for getting it online for free, Guy. Maybe you didn't hear, but those free online art generators trained on art they scraped from the Internet with nobody's permission. The artists they stole it from are angry. They’re making a big, public stink about it.”

“And you're going to train your AI…” Guy’s mouth slowly sank open. “...on our back catalogue, which we own free and clear. That's why you're being so greedy with it!”

“My back catalogue. Guy, Guy, Guy. You're learning so late in life how to be a businessman.”

“And all on the backs of the crew. I never should have retired. I never should have taken you as a partner in the first place.”

“You never should have started a business in the first place. You're nothing but a dime-a-dozen artist, the kind I spit on at street corners.”

Guy shook his head sadly.

“Jeremy,” he said, “are you happy?”

“I won. Again.”

“You know that's not what I meant. Jeremy, I met a beautiful girl and married her. We had babies and raised them together. I watched them grow, watched them work out their problems, watched them move away and start families of their own. My wife is gone now, but I have so many beautiful memories of her, beautiful children, I’m still in touch with them. I have grandchildren, Jeremy!”

“I don't give a rat's ass about your fucking family.”

“I can promise you ain't gonna give this rat’s ass!” the rat grumbled.

“I watched you, too, Jeremy. I watched you deceive, connive and back-stab your way up in the business world. I watched you pass by a lot of cute rats and their cute asses, metaphorically speaking. But I watched you work hard to get close to women, whole groups of people, gain their trust, then spit in their faces and drive them away. Now you're spitting in the faces of your own loyal crew and throwing them away. Four, Merry Christmas.”

“Are you through?”

“You're not happy, Jeremy. You're alone. Why do you do this to yourself?

“Why, Jerry?”

Jeremy sat bolt upright and bared his teeth.

“Don't call me that!” he growled.

“Who was he, Jeremy? Who was Jerry?”

“Don't ever call me that!”

The wolves squeezed his shoulders. “Easy!” the boy warned.

“And without another word,” said the girl wolf, “Jacob Marley’s ghost backed through the window and into the night. Scrooge, because of the lateness of the hour or the stress of his unearthly visit, went straight to bed, but found himself too fitful to sleep.”

“Before you go, Mr Lelland,” the rat said, “there's a box under the tree with your name on it. It's The Korps’s way of thanking you for playing Marley’s Ghost for us. Um, maybe you should open it outside over a cup of hot cocoa, though. Scrooge looks really mad!”

Guy found the box. It wasn't very big, about the size of a coffee cup, and of course it was all Pantone #c74375 except for a snow white bow and his name in gold marker. The rat girl conducted him out with an arm around his waist.

“Maybe later,” she said, as they reached the rear door, “you’d like to give a rat's ass.”

“Oh no,” he replied, “my wife would…”

Guy paused as the door closed behind them.

#

STAVE THE THIRD

Jeremy sat for several minutes after Guy had left. The two wolves stood silently behind him. Obviously they were waiting for him to calm down before getting on with their folly. But what if he never did? Maybe he could make them give up waiting. But what would they do then? Was it worth the risk? He’d have to think strategically...

“I don’t know,” the wolf girl said, softly. “He still seems pretty mad to me.”

“Who are you talking to?”

“Rose,” she replied.

“That’s that hypnotic AI that controls your minds, isn’t it?”

The two wolves burst into laughter.

“We’ve only been speaking and acting as individuals since we got here,” said the boy, “so obviously ROSE is controlling us like puppets.”

“Well obviously! We’re acting towards a common goal like any team, so we must be under hypnotic control!” The she-wolf snickered. “You know best, Rose, hon.”

“ROSE is...” the boy began.

“...our...” they said together.

“...AI assistant,” the girl wolf said.

“...best friend,” the boy wolf said at the same time. “Well she’s both!”

The girl nodded. “ROSE is a General AI, the first of her kind! She’s sentient and she’s amazing! We’re all proud of her.”

Then someone on the far side of the table said, “Boo!” Jeremy turned sharply. It was the american badger, the same one from the cocoa table earlier. (When had he come in?) There was a box on the table between them, like a big, powered letter opener with far too many controls.

“Evening!” he said. “I’m Blindspot, yer Agent of Christmas Past... Sonny, ya set ‘im on fire! Why’d’ya have ta do that?”

“He didn’t want to understand he’s been captured by international terrorists.”

“I iced the burn for him,” the girl added, “it should only be first degree.”

“Thanks Crystal. Well ya don’t look stupid.”

“Arrogant,” Crystal replied.

“Aw great. I hate bullies!” Blindspot pressed a button on the box with a claw. A panel rolled up from it, filling the space between them. “Well, let’s see what we can do about it...”

“You know,” Jeremy said, “there are two kinds of people. There are bullies. And there are people who hate bullies. The people who hate bullies got what they deserved.”

“Aw c’mon, seriously?” Blindspot stopped making test images appear on the transparent screen between them and looked back at Jeremy. “Do I look t’you like the kinda guy who got picked on in high school? I was on the football team! I still hate bullies.”

“There’s a word for football team members who hate bullies. It starts with a B...”

Blindspot smiled. It was a predatory smile, like the one Jeremy had given Alice earlier. Sunny and Crystal grabbed Jeremy’s shoulders and gripped them tightly enough to hurt the joints while Blindspot pushed a button on the box. The screen went clear and rolled back down as the badger slowly made a fist. When the screen had rolled all the way back into its box, Blindspot said, “Say that again.”

Jeremy looked at Blindspot’s fist. It was big, with thick, hard knuckles.

“G’wan,” Blindspot repeated, “say it again.”

“I wouldn’t.” Sunny muttered.

Jeremy looked at Blindspot’s face; it was full of intent and as hard as his fist. Jeremy kept his mouth shut. Blindspot’s smile turned suddenly smug. He opened his fist and patted Jeremy’s cheek, (rather firmly.) Then he pushed the button and deployed the screen again.

“I’m sorry for thinking you were queer,” Jeremy said.

“Naw, you can think I’m queer,” Blindspot replied. “I am. Just don’t be rude about it. Now, where was I b’fore I was interrupted? Oh yeah, starting.”

Blindspot tapped a couple more buttons on the box. A sleep symbol appeared.

“The remote was easier,” he muttered, “shame we lost it. Prob’ly find it on the way back. ‘Kay, there we go!”

A scene in an army barracks appeared on the transparent screen and started to play. Blindspot gave it an odd look, then snickered.

“Sorry, we want that right ‘way round for ya!”

He touched yet another button and the scene flipped left-to-right. (“There ya go,” he muttered.) The scene appeared to have been shot on an old film camera. It was grainy and the colours were odd. A troop of soldiers was roughhousing good-naturedly around a Christmas tree. One of the men, a big brown bear, was the attention of a lot of rough play, which he dominated. But he was a gentle giant among the wolves and lions and other big guys, wrestling but never really hurting anybody. The only one he never attacked was an even bigger grizzly bear in sergeant's stripes, but the squad commander looked on approvingly.

“Recognize yer old man?” Blindspot said.

“What?” Jeremy exclaimed.

“The big bear that ev’rybody loves, that’s yer dad.”

The scene hit the three minute mark and suddenly changed. Now the men were lined up in front of the tree singing “Silent Night.” The big bear and the sergeant sang basso profundo, the brown bear’s voice so much like Jeremy’s own that it was hard to mistake the family resemblance. His face, too bore an uncanny resemblance to Jeremy’s own, except for his eyes and the curve of his nose.

“If yer curious, the corporal is holding the camera. After the army he work in Hollywood as a focus puller.”

“You seriously expect me to believe that... That... that AI generated fake is my father? I grew up with my father, you lieing son...”

Blindspot was waving his hands.

“Y’see,” he said, “what yer lookin’ at now was all before this happened. Crystal, Sunny, you might wanna look away fer a sec, this is the bad part.”

Blindspot touched a button again. The barracks disappeared and was replaced by a battlefield. Shattered buildings lay like an apocalypse in the path of the unit. The big brown bear charged through it, machine gun rattling in spurts as he went, the others behind him.

“They called your dad The Tank,” Blindspot said. “He could charge into a fight in full armour, soaking up damage and just keep goin’. It really scared the enemy. It woulda scared me! On this manoeuvre, just about here...”

The bear was rounding a blind corner, five other soldiers behind him, the sergeant yelling at them to halt. Too late; the camera caught a grenade flying from around a second blind corner right into the bear’s face. It looked at first to have bounced off his nose. Then it burst. White gas or powder covered his face as darker splotches grew in it. The bear roared and raised his gun. Then he screamed as his face began to smoke. The five men behind him grabbed him and pulled him back around the corner. The sergeant yelled at him to keep his eyes closed.

“White phosphorous,” Blindspot said. “Poor bastard. White phosphorous munitions are a war crime ‘n this is exactly why. It catches fire in air and spreads it everywhere. It’s caustic, too and poisonous on top of that. It took four guys to get yer dad back to base hospital, all the time yellin’ at him t’keep his eyes closed. That’s why he wasn’t blind at least. He was on sick call fer months, gettin’ chemical solutions to wash off the shit, chelation therapy to get the poison out, skin grafts to rebuild his eyelids, all that stuff. The doctors did everything they could, Jeremy. But when they were through, well...”

Blindspot touched a button again. The scene had already frozen on the last frame of the tragic video. Now it changed to a photograph of the same soldier bear in a hospital somewhere. His face was ruined. What fur he still had was pointing in several wrong directions. Mostly it was bare skin, red and angry with visible stitches, right where Jeremy knew the familiar scars would be. The outer ears were missing, although there were signs that somebody had tried once or twice to add new ones. His expression was difficult to read; rage, terror, resignation, indignation, maybe all of them. His teeth were slightly bared, but that might have been because his lips were just wrong.

“Recognize yer old man now?” said Blindspot.

Jeremy didn’t have to answer. His expression – fear, but also need, then the sadness and loss when he looked away – said without words how well he knew his father. “Dad,” he murmured anyway.

Blindspot nodded. “’Course one good thing happened to him in the base hospital, he met your mom. Everyone else was afraid of him, even the guys from his unit, so she decided to get to know him. She found out that the guy with a fright mask for a face was a great guy. She fell in love with him. She married him.” Blindspot pushed the button; the screen showed a wedding picture taken at his dad’s bedside. “She saw him turning away from the world like the world had turned away from him and she was determined to keep him in the light somehow. ‘N because she wasn’t afraid, she slowed his descent into madness, but she couldn’t stop it. She didn’t know how. We don’t believe even Sigmund Freud coulda. But she did help.”

“Mom,” Jeremy murmured. “Where’s Dad’s eyepiece? He had a thing he used on his bad eye sometimes to help him see.”

“Y’mean this?”

Blindspot reached into the boughs of the Korpsmas tree and brought out a camera. He pressed a different button that brought up a table of slides and videos, used more buttons to choose one. The display showed Jeremy’s father holding the camera.

“That’s it,” Jeremy said. “What is that thing?”

“This here,” Blindspot replied, “is a Kodak super-8 film camera. Your dad liked to take home movies of you and your mom when you were little. Glad ya asked about it, it comes into the picture later.”

“That’s right, he showed them to me later. Oh of course, it had to have been a camera.” Jeremy smiled at the memory. “He smiled when he was taking home movies. It was the only time he did smile.”

“After a while your dad was fit to leave hospital. The sergeant’s notes say he was looking for some payback. The higher ups didn’t like the idea. Not that your dad couldn’t still fight, but the rest of his unit was afraid of him. He was a reminder of what the enemy was willing to do to them. And even looking at him was hard. So they gave him a medical discharge. He got a pension, civilian clothes and your mom.” Blindspot reached into the tree again and took out a piece of knitting, like an old ski mask. “She knit him this so he could walk in the street. If ya don’t look too close, it could pass for fur. Yer dad hated it, it was itchy.”

“He never wore it.”

Blindspot nodded. He pushed the camera and the mask around the screen so that Jeremy could touch them. Jeremy looked, but didn’t reach for them.

“Where did you get all those things anyway?”

“Aw, we have our sources. We’re thieves too, y’know.

“So anyway. Your mom and dad found a house together he could afford on his pension. Your dad had to drive across the country to get to your grandfather’s place...”

“Grandfather and grandmother died when dad was young.”

“Huh? No. Oh, I guess he told you that so you wouldn’t ask about them. He didn’t want to see them anymore because he was afraid of what they’d say if they saw his face. Turns out he was right, according to your mom’s diary. They slammed the door in his face, threatened to call the cops. But your granddad had promised to let your dad take some seeds... your granddad had a mail order seed company... to help your dad set up a company of his own. Your mom held him to his word. So they came back home with seeds and started growin’ a business. Smart choice, the seeds didn’t care what your dad looked like ‘n neither did mail order customers. You used to help with it. You drew bunnies under the growing trays t’ keep the plants company.”

“Yeah, fat lot of help that was!”

Blindspot touched a button on the box and brought up a picture of a bunny drawn on what looked like the bottom of a table.

“Not bad for three years old!” he said. “’Course you were more help as you got older. You always drew bunnies.”

“There was a bunny family next door,” Jeremy replied. “One little girl used to poke her nose through the fence. She... uh...”

Blindspot pushed the button. A short video started; a bunny girl ‘s face emerged from the leaves of a hedge. Her eyes met the camera, she gasped and pulled back. Then the clip repeated.

“Her!” Jeremy cried. “I’m sure it was her! Wasn’t it? Did dad take that?”

“Maybe, might’ve been your mom. What was her name?”

“I... I never met her. I was...”

“Too shy?” (Jeremy nodded.) “She was cute!

“It took a while for you mom to have you, not ‘cause she didn’t try either.” (Blindspot gave a little nervous chuckle.) “But after a while you came along and for the first time in a long time your dad kept smiling. For a while she thought maybe she had the man she loved back. He loved you so much! He took pictures ‘n home movies of you bein’ cute ‘n stuff.”

Blindspot touched the button again. A string of home movies started playing, grainy and over or under exposed despite somebody cleaning them up. Many featured father and son playing together, (shot no doubt by mother.)

“He don’t look half as bad when he’s smilin’, does he?”

“No. I remember that one. He’d just finished packing a big order, he promised we’d have cake and ice cream for my birthday...”

“Those were happy times, eh?”

“Happy...”

“So, you never did meet that cute bunny girl, but you had a cute bunny anyway. There, under yer left arm.”

Under the boy’s arm was a plush toy, a bunny made of pink velvet, it’s lop ears hanging over its face. The boy held it tight as his father play-wrestled with him. The two child warriors, cub and bunny, won easily over their father and took a moment to cuddle in celebration of their victory. Jeremy pointed, opened his mouth, but his voice caught.

“Jerry,” Blindspot said for him.

“Oh my God,” Jeremy whispered. Tears soaked the fur around his eyes. “Oh my God... Why did you show me this?”

“These ‘r but shadows of things that’ve passed. That they are what they are, don’t blame me. (Rose, did I get that right?)”

“Close enough!” Jeremy cried “I haven’t seen Jerry in...”

Jeremy put his head down in his arms on the table and wept. Crystal and Sunny rubbed his shoulders.

“Decades,” Blindspot said for him. “Not since Labour Day when you were six. But that can wait a few minutes...”

“No! Don’t make me watch that! Please, not that!”

Blindspot hesitated. “Aw fuck it!” he said. “It ain’t gonna get any easier if we wait.”

Blindspot touched the button. A short clip played, about ten seconds long. The image was a mixture of floor and clothing and the soundtrack muddy with crackles from the microphone’s screen being rubbed. The voices were clearly his father’s and his mother’s, but he couldn’t tell what they were saying.

“We cleaned up the audio,” Blindspot said. “Here’s what your mom recorded your dad saying before you-know-what happened.”

The same scene played, but this time the audio was clear.

“...and you will stand aside and keep that camera pointed at us and not interfere or I will beat you like I’ve never beaten you before! Understand?”

There was a one second pause, then, “Yes, husband.”

“What?” and the clip ended.

“Actually,” Blindspot added, “your dad only ever hit your mom a couple of times in his life. For society back then, that was pretty good. Not justifyin’ it you understand, just puttin’ it in context. Your mom wrote in her diary that she knew right then that the man she loved was gone forever, ‘cause he never woulda said that. Anyway, I guess you remember what came next.”

“No, don’t...”

But Blindspot pushed the button and the home movie filled the screen, restored with loving care. The horribly scarred face was full of anger. He mocked young Jeremy for his imaginary plush friend. He demanded that the cub hand Jerry over, said that he’d burn the toy. Jeremy, backed into a corner by his father, begged his mother to help, but she didn’t, (or didn’t dare.) He hid his beloved toy behind his back. That only made his father angrier. He roared at the boy, called him names; sissy, girly, disgraceful. Jeremy turned away, knelt, clutching Jerry to his breast, crying, screaming in terror. Patience exhausted, his father grabbed the boy by his shirt collar and lifted him up. He grabbed Jerry by his feet. He yanked the toy down out of Jeremy’s arms, but the boy caught one of Jerry’s ears and held on with all his might. Still his father tugged and tugged until the ear ripped off in Jeremy’s hands. The boy screamed as if it was his own ear that had been ripped away. His father put the rest of Jerry under his arm, held Jeremy by his wrist and pried the ear out of his hand, yelling of how he’d burn the toy, Jeremy screaming all the while.

At last his mother acted. Camera still running, holding it on him, she took her husband by what was left of his own ear and twisted it, commanding him to put her boy down in a voice that brooked no argument. Jeremy dropped to the floor and his mother towed his father by his scalp to the next room. She shoved the man, scarred face to the wall, and took both parts of Jerry away from him. The camera focused on his face.

“I’m going to fix Jerry and give it back!” she declared. “And you are not going to do anything about it!”

“I’ll take it and burn it the first chance I get!”

“No, you will not...”

“Yes I will!”

“Then I’ll hide it from you! I’ll give it back when there’s nothing you can do about it! And if you ever hurt my son again, I will kill you with my own hands! Understand?”

The home movie ended, but the video wasn’t quite done. It zoomed in on the door to the room. The door was partly open and a face was framed in it. The video zoomed in on the face, then enhanced to show that it was Jeremy. Then the video stopped.

Across from Blindspot, Jeremy was trembling

“Why?” he whimpered. “Why did you have to show me that?”

“Why?” Blindspot replied. “’Cause what happened there changed the whole rest of your life!

“You were six and it was Labour Day. Next day you were goin’ away to kindergarten. Your dad was scared for you that other kids would bully you or reject you, the way he was rejected after the army. (We don’t act’lly know that for sure, but it makes the most sense.) He wanted you to be tough enough t’ handle other kids ‘n not end up a victim like him. He saw Jerry as your weakest point, so he took it away from you.”

“Did he have to hurt me like that?”

“One part of bein’ tough is understandin’ pain. It worked for him in the army.”

“I wasn’t going in the army, I was going in kindergarten!”

“That’s what I said when we were talking over this case! But I’m told there’s not all that much difference... But I never served, so I wouldn’t know. Anyway, myself, I slept with my toy friends ‘til I started high school ‘n nobody ever bullied me. I mean a couple punks tried, once.”

“You’re a fighter.”

“Ju jitsu, black belt. ‘N you might’ve been better off if your dad had taught you t’fight instead. But that’s water under the bridge.

“After that, your dad started bein’ mean to you. He’d set booby traps where your mom couldn’t see that’d make you look stupid, then make home movies of ya fallin’ for ‘em. Then he showed ‘em to ya...”

“He threatened to show them at school..”

“He did, too, a couple times. He didn’t go himself, just sent ‘em to the teacher ‘n she showed ‘em. She didn’t know what they were.”

“All the other kids laughed at me.”

“Did’ja know after the second time the school wouldn’t let him show those movies anymore?”

Jeremy’s shocked expression was answer enough.

“He kept threatening anyway, huh?”

“That lying... That son of... Why?”

“Made you be even meaner to the other kids, didn’t it? You learned from your dad how to be a bully.”

“Bully! No, I wasn’t a bully! I never took shit from the other kids, but they were the bullies, not me. I was defending myself!”

“Defending yerself, eh?” Blindspot brought up the menu and chose a few files that looked like texts. He brought up the first, let Jeremy see that’it was a grade school report. Then he flipped it and read. “Aggressive play in schoolyard, negative attitude to other students.” He looked up at Jeremy. “That means bully,” he said and brought up the next record. “At recess plays rougher than other students of his species, trouble with self-regulation. Bully.” A touch of the button brought up the next record. “Confrontational play at recess, suspected of disruptive activity in class. Bully.” He pushed the button. “Other students avoid Jeremy in the schoolyard, he aggressively pursues certain students, I’ve changed his seat twice and he still sits behind those students. Bully. I love this one from fourth grade. Jeremy is the class bully. The only way to spare his favourite victims is to give him constant detentions during recess.”

“That was Mr. Mean.”

“Mr. Mehan. He was the only teacher who dared to call you on your bullying. Guy was a hero...”

“He kept me in class every recess until the principal made him let me go play. He made me write lines of stupid shit.”

“Stupid shit? You mean like...” Blindspot pushed the button again. “Treat others the way you want them to treat you?” Next image, “Other people are people like me?” Next image, “Ivan’s name is not Yvonne and he is not a girl? And you’re seriously tellin’ me you weren’t a school bully.

“And yeah, Mr. Mehan was a hero. You told your dad about him ‘n he went to confront him. Walked into his classroom right after school, bare faced, figured it’d set ‘im on his heels.”

“He told me to wait in the car.”

“Mr. Mehan was ready for your dad. Knew he’d been injured in the war ‘n looked pretty bad. We think your mom warned him. Mr. Mehan had made drill sergeant ‘n used that against your dad. He wasn’t scared by yer dad’s face. He told him off fer raisin’ a lil’ bully. I wish I coulda been a fly on the wall!

“Jeremy, we think your Dad drove you t’see other kids as a threat ‘n bully them before they could bully you, at first. But as you kept it up, you saw that bullying them first gave you power over ‘em ‘n you liked that power. You wanted to keep it. You spent yer life refining yer bullying technique, losing aggression you didn’t need, making threats sound like threats except to those in power, catfishin’ ‘n gaslightin’ victims into contracts they didn’t really understand, all that shit. It served you real well in business for years ‘n years. But at the end of the day, you’re just a bully.”

“And you hate bullies.”

“True. But I can set that aside, ‘cause this is about you, not me.”

“You want to hurt me. You have a petty, low desire to hurt me.”

“Aw, I already done that! I sat here ‘n watched you bawl yer eyes out over a kid’s toy! ‘N that made me happy.” Blindspot grinned. “But not for the reason you think, Jeremy. It proves you still have a heart. And your heart is still broken. The Korps isn’t here to hurt you, Jeremy. I had to sand the rust ‘n dirt off all that breakage so we could mend your heart. That’s why we’re here.”

“Are you through with all this?”

“I’ve got a lil’more to review, then it’s Christmas Present’s turn at ya.”

“Well can you get on with it?”

“Yup!” Blindspot cleared his throat. “Your mom kept her word. She mended Jerry the best she could. She did a real nice job, too. She was handy with a needle. Then she put him in a box ‘n hid him where your dad woulda never thought to look for him. ‘N your dad did look for Jerry, still wanted to burn him, but never found him. She dug Jerry out when you went away to college ‘n tried to give him back to you. She told you she had something for you, something hidden, something you forgot. But before she could hand you the box with Jerry in it, you told your mom what she could do with whatever it was ‘n walked away, which was a pretty rude way to treat your mom. But by then your dad’s neuroses had hardened into your prejudices...”

“Do you even know what those words mean?”

“Excuse me a sec, Rose.” Blindspot took off his RCGs and looked Jeremy straight in his eyes. “Neurosis,” he said, “a mental disease caused by a pattern of illogical or threatening thoughts, causing stress reactions but not a loss of touch with reality. Prejudice, a hateful or dismissive opinion based on false or not enough research and without personal experience.” He went to put his RCGs back on “Didn’t want ya t’think I was cheatin’,” he said. “I’m back, Rose. Just ‘cause I talk like a jock doesn’t mean I’m stupid.

“Your mom tried a couple times after that to give Jerry back to you. You never even took the box from her, just told her to go away. Your dad was with her once...”

“That’s a lie! I never saw my dad again after I left for college!”

“Yeah, that brings me to the other thing I wanted to tell you. There’s a chapter of your dad’s life you never knew anything about.

“A couple years after you left for college, yer dad had a heart attack.”

“And died.”

“No. Why d’you think he died?”

“The only one who’d have known was mom. She wouldn’t have helped him.”

“Yes she did. Your mom was a dutiful wife even after that thing with Jerry. She called an ambulance, they took him to hospital and saved his life. While he was recuperating, the doctors met with your mom to plan how to keep it from happening again. They wanted to know what happened to his face. She told them and asked if anything could be done. Well this was decades after the war, plastic surgery had come a long way. They started workin’ on his skin, got it from angry red back to healthy black. Then they started transplantin’ plugs of fur from all over his body to his face. They fixed his ears, mostly straightened out his nostrils... Well lemmee show ya!”

Blindspot brought up the menu, chose a split image and showed it.

“There’s yer dad before the grenade on the left... sorry, the right, and yer dad after the heart attack on the left. Big improvement over between, eh?”

Jeremy stared. “He looks... older,” he said. “Just older.”

“He is older. But like I say, a big improvement!

“Your dad got therapy, too. You know what I mean. After years ‘n years of everybody but your mom runnin’ away from ‘im in horror, he needed that. He finally joined the Legion, too. Looked up his old troop ‘n told ‘em all hi. Spent many a happy hour having a beer with the guys. Your mom was over the moon, she finally got her husband back t’ stay! The last years of his life were the happiest years. He tried to give Jerry back to you, him ‘n yer mom, tell you he was sorry for the way he’d raised you...”

Jeremy’s face fell at a horrible memory. “That really was dad,” he murmured. “That time, with mom...”

“You didn’t even recognize him, eh? Thought your mom had remarried or somethin’?”

“Oh no... Oh no!” Jeremy covered his face with his hands and shuddered. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. Then he glared at Blindspot. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

“That you missed yer last chance to be reconciled with yer dad? Naw! That it matters to you? Hell ya!”

“Blindspot touched a button on the display. The screen went blank and rolled back down into the box. He slid it under his arm. Then he reached into his coat and pulled out a card.

“I got some homework for ya.”

“Oh, I’m back in school, am I?”

“Stuff to consider, if you’d rather call it that way. First, forgive your father. He wanted you to be safe. He gave you the best wisdom he had. It wasn’t his fault the best he had was bat shit crazy. Second, forgive the enemy soldiers who did that to your dad, or if you can’t, try ‘n let it go. They’re all dead now, we checked. The last of ‘em died about fifteen years ago. Their ancestors woulda never been okay with white phosphorous munitions and their kids weren’t even around at the time. Keepin’ a hate on for them won’t do any good. Forgive your mom, too. The way she treated your dad seemed mean and it was, but she was tryin’ to protect her child, you, from her husband’s insanity. That’s what any mom should do, under the circumstances! Most important, Jeremy, forgive yourself. You were just a li’l guy when all this started, you didn’t know any better. Uh, if it helps at all, I forgive you.

“Just one other thing. Yer dad died about seven years ago. At home, in bed, in his sleep, best you could ask for. You can find your mom...” Blindspot laid the card on the table in front of Jeremy. “...here,” he concluded. “She ain’t doin’ so good, but if you hurry, you can still catch her.”

Blindspot stood up and started towards the rear door.

“Merry Christmas, Jeremy. Sorry it ain’t startin’ out that merry.”

As Blindspot reached the door, Jeremy called out to him.

“Where did you get that thing anyway?”

“This?” Blindspot replied, holding up the box. “We stole it off LG, hijacked one of their trucks. We did ‘em a favour, they couldn’t move the stupid things. They got to claim them on insurance instead of havin’ to write ‘em off and ship it to Viet Nam as e-waste. They’re good for interviews like this one where yer sittin’ on opposite sides, but not much else.

“Oh, nearly forgot, we’re gonna take a break before Christmas Present to let you digest some o’ this. So just relax.”

#

FIRST INTERMISSION

“...so Jerry was his plush toy all along?” Guy Lelland took a sip of cocoa from his new Korps cup and thought. “Say, are you sure you’re doing A Christmas Carol tonight? It’s more like Citizen Kane!”

Vector put a finger to Guy’s lips and shushed him. “Tap hasn’t seen Citizen Kane yet!” he whispered.

Tap seemed to warp into their presence. “What about Citizen Kane?” she said.

“Oh, nothing... just...” Guy looked quickly around himself at the others; Tap didn’t look as if she’d let it go without an explanation, Vector’s ears were starting to sink and his expression was anxious. “I think your boyfriend wants to watch it with you,” Guy concluded.

“Oh! Vector isn’t my boyfriend...”

“He’s my boyfriend!” Blindspot said, wrapping a possessive arm around Vector’s narrow shoulders. (When had the big badger come in?)

Guy watched the pair for a moment, then smiled.

“Aw, what a cute couple! You look like Jeremy and Jerry in happier times!”

Blindspot’s smile broadened and he hugged Vector closer. Vector smiled too, and his inner ears turned a little pink. Tap leaned closer to Guy.

“Compliment Vector!” she whispered. “Go nuts with it!”

Guy cleared his throat. “Although you have the cuter bunny,” he said. “Look at that face, so symmetric, so sweet! And his long throat, how do you resist nibbling it? And look at his chest, slender and well defined right down to his waist, then those perfect bikini hips! A perfect pretty bunny! Oh, but you know what his prettiest feature is? Those ears! Long and slender with perfect tips. Are the black tips natural?”

Vector was hiding his pretty face in his hands, wiggling in embarrassment. His long, perfect ears were laid flat against his neck and shoulders. There was a suspicious bulge in his tan shorts.

“Natural,’ he said, his voice weak. “Thank you,” he added.

“He’s acting all embarrassed,” Tap whispered, “nut he really loves it!”

“How come yer bein’ so nice to my bunny?” Blindspot said. (His tone was friendly, but with a slight edge.)

“Oh, just... just to be nice.”

Blindspot nodded. “Yer a nice guy, Guy.”

“Well, a wise man once told me, to get through life you can be oh, so smart, or oh, so pleasant. I watched Jeremy being smart. I tried pleasant.”

“Oh, are we doing Harvey now?” said the pink vixen in Vector’s watch.

Guy shivered with a look of horror. “No thank you!” he cried. “Imagine having an invisible human that only you can see haunting you! Completely flat muzzle and a big nose and no fur at all? I... I can’t even imagine it!” and he shuddered again.

“According to mythology,” Rose replied, “humans have hair on the tops of their heads, under their arms and in the region of their groins. Males may also have hair on their lower faces and on their arms, legs, backs and chests, but this hair is so sparse that it only serves to emphasize how naked their skin is otherwise. Their skin can be any shade from very pale to very dark and in some cases red or yellow. In the movie, Elwood P Dowd mentioned that Harvey was very smooth and very pale.”

“Well that might have suited Elwood P Dowd, but I’d have to be pretty drunk to want Harvey for a friend!”

“Dowd spent most of the movie being pretty drunk,” Rose replied. “Fun fact! Jimmy Stewart had modest telekinesis. Harvey was the only movie where he used it for special effects.”

”I heard about that!” Vector said. “Didn’t he use his telekinesis in the strafing scene in North By North West?”

“No,” Rose replied.” That was a practical effect. The stunt plot actually strafed him.”

Guy and the three agents gave each other stunned looks.

“That doesn’t sound very safe,” Blindspot said.

“It wasn’t,” Rose replied. “That’s why it was the last scene they shot. Alfred Hitchcock was not known for taking good care of his talent. He and Jeremy would have appreciated each other.”

Blindspot gave Vector a close snuggle. (Vector relaxed into it gratefully.) “Who stole his toy bunny?” he muttered.

Guy leaned closer to Vector’s watch where it sat on the table across from the cocoa dispenser.

“Rose, isn’t it?” he said.

“Hello,” the pink vixen replied.

“May I ask you something? It’s about that pretty rat girl.”

“Ewynn?” Rose replied, (pronouncing it “I win.”)

“Quite a name! She seems to like me, but everybody is trying to keep her away from me.”

Rose sighed. “Please understand, Guy. The purpose of The Korps is to take power away from small-c conservatism once and for all. The world is increasingly full of hatred and shame, including violence and murder, for anybody who deviates from an increasingly narrow interpretation of ‘normal.’ The Korps seeks to enforce tolerance and acceptance for what are really pretty minor deviations in behaviour. Those who have power purposefully cause all this hatred of harmless others to keep attention away from themselves while they use their power to take even more power for themselves away from people. Since it’s the basis of much of their strawman campaign, The Korps emphasizes sexual and gender freedom, among other things. We want everybody to be free to be their truest most genuine selves, sexually and otherwise.

“Incidentally, Lelland and Fellows Arts has never been a target for The Korps because your customers are entirely other businesses and because until recently you’ve been an ethical company.

“But Ewynn, well, she’s into a sexual kink that squicks even Korps agents! I have no doubt that I, too would be squicked by it if I had actual emotions.”

“Why? What... what the heck is she into?”

“Scat.

“Ewynn likes older partners. She implied that she would like to have sex with you and she meant it. But she would undoubtedly ask you...”

“What?”

“...to shit on her face. And she might eat it.”

Guy looked up at Ewynn, his expression incredulous, to find that she was looking back. Her face fell as she watched him. He looked away, ashamed.

“Rose, this scat thing, is it a kink or a fetish?”

“Congratulations on knowing the difference,” Rose replied. “It’s a kink, she can do without it. It’s one that she’s very fond of, though. She always... she’s coming.”

“I like the warmth and heaviness,” Ewynn said. “I like the feel on my face and the smell. I like watching it come out of you and onto me, like a gift. It makes you feel real to me. I can’t explain why I feel like this, it’s just me.”

“But why me?”

“Because you’re a sweet, old guy, Guy! I feel like I can trust older men. I just know I can trust you! Look how you put yourself in danger for Jeremy when he doesn’t even like you.”

“He does. I know it.”

“You could go to prison for years just for contacting ROSE! But now you’re here with us watching Jeremy go through this ‘cause you care ‘bout him. I know I can trust you, you have a good heart.”

“It is pretty strong. I swim laps with branches everyday. Ewynn, do you have a power too?”

“Tap,” Rose said, “your turn.”

Tap drained her cocoa, picked up a fresh cup, added mini marshamllows and pushed through the rear door.

“Wish me luck!” she said.

The rat girl smiled. “I have two powers!” she said. “I can manipulate combat, I can make one side win if they’re losing or force a stalemate. My other power is to manipulate fate, that’s the more powerful one. I can make things happen the way we want them to happen. But that’s an awful responsibility and The Korps doesn’t use me very often.”

“Good! It sounds like cheating the world.”

“I used it tonight though, to nudge Jeremy towards accepting the past. We kinda have to use my fate power, this would normally take a psychiatrist years and we only have one night.”

On the monitor set up over the cocoa table, Tap was saying, “You’ve been crying a lot. You lost fluids, electrolytes and strength. This’ll make you feel better.”

“Actually,” Ewynn said, “I’m watching that for my cue. I need to give Jeremy one more good nudge tonight. Guy, can I tell you something?”

The beaver nodded. The rat leaned close.

“I’m scared of my power!” she whispered. “I’m scared one day I’ll do something bad without meaning to. I don’t wanna hurt anyone!”

“Because you have a good heart!” Guy whispered back. “That’s the best insurance you could have against doing something bad.”

“You think so? And being careful, too,” Ewynn replied.

“And having a clever AI to help you make hard decisions,” Rose added.

“I love you, Rose.”

The pink vixen purred in reply.

On the monitor, Tap said “It’s something hidden!”

“Oops!” Ewynn cried. “That’’s my cue!”

“Something you’ve forgotten!” Tap added.

Ewynn quickly settled into lotus position in a chair, eyes focused on the middle distance. A faint light quickly surrounded her.

“Don’t take away his choice.” she murmured. “Just a nudge,”

“And he’s waiting right behind this tree,” Tap said.

#

STAVE THE FOURTH

Jeremy was sitting, still staring at the card Blindspot had given him when Tap got to the table. Crystal was gently petting his shoulder, Sunny stroking his arm. Tap approached quietly and sat opposite him, but smiled anyway.

“Hi, Jeremy,” she said. (Jeremy looked up slowly.) “I’m Tap, I’m your Agent of Christmas Presents.”

“Present,” the bear replied. (Tap tilted her head.) “It’s the Ghost of Christmas Present. Scrooge never sought the spirit of good will in his own heart, so the Spirit showed it to him in the hearts of others.”

Tap giggled cutely. “We’re villains!” she replied. “We don’t always go by the book. I got four presents for you! Here’s the first one.”

Tap slid the cup across the table to Jeremy. He just stared at it.

“A cup of cocoa?” he said.

“With lil’ marshmallows! You’ve been crying a lot. You lost fluids, electrolytes and strength. This’ll make you feel better. Go on, try it!”

Jeremy picked up the cup and took a sniff. What he smelled must have surprised him, because his expression was comical. Tap giggled, but stopped herself quickly. Jeremy took a sip, then a longer sip.

“It’s just like mom used to make!” he said. “How did you do it?”

“Oh, we took a couple bars of baking chocolate ‘n melted ‘em, then beat in milk ‘til it was the right consistency, then added sugar ‘til it tasted right.”

“Two whole bars?”

“We got lots of cocoa! ‘N lots of marshmallows, too. You can have more if you like. D’you feel better now?”

Jeremy took another long sip. “You know,” he said, “I do feel better.”

Tap grinned. She reached under the tree and brought out a box, (Forbidden Fuschia with a white bow.) “This is your second present. I’ll just tell you what it is, ‘cause it might not go in as easily as it comes out. It’s all the stuff we collected about you and your mom ‘n dad, the stuff Blindspot told you about. There’s home movies ‘n copies of reports from the army hospital about your dad, and the hospital he went for his heart attack, too. And there’s your grade school and high school reports and your mom’s diaries! You’re not supposed to read other people’s diaries, but maybe you should read your mom’s, they say a lot about her and your dad. And you, too. And, well, there’s lots of stuff, you’ll see when you open it.”

Jeremy opened the box anyway. He looked inside, but when he saw how full of stuff it was, we closed it again.

“You certainly stole your research well,” he said.

“We think we’re giving it to its rightful owner. That’s you.”

“You know a lot about me, you Korps agents.”

“Your company isn’t one of our targets. Until a few years ago you were ethical.”

“Then I got rid of Guy.”

“Now you’re not so ethical. But you only deal with other companies and you don’t threaten the environment, much, so we’re not too worried about you.”

“Nice to know.”

“All this research was just to help un-break your heart.” Tap gave Jeremy a sly grin. “So I got your third present.”

“Well, go on.”

“It’s something hidden!”

“What... What?”

“Something you’ve forgotten!” Tap added.

“Don’t mock my mother...”

Tap reached back to the trunk of the tree and gently took something in her hand.

“And he’s waiting right behind this tree,” she said.

“No,” Jeremy said, so softly he could barely hear himself.

Tap brought something out in both of her hands and showed it to Jeremy. It was a cloth doll, a pink, velvet bunny with dark, button eyes and a crocheted smile. Tap held it sitting in one hand. Its fluffy tail stuck over her little finger, her other hand supported its back with its lop ears draped over the back of her hand.

“Jerry!” Jeremy cried as he took the precious doll from Tap’s hands and held it up under its arms. “Jerry!” he sobbed as he held its face to his and nuzzled it, the fur around his eyes already damp with tears. “Jerry, jerry, oh my God! Jerry!”

Jeremy held little Jerry close in both arms, rocking side to side, sobbing. Tap crawled across the table and took the big bear in her arms. She held him close and rocked with him. Crystal and Sunny looked at each other through the goggles of their masks and wrapped their arms around the pair.

“I missed you!” Jeremy whimpered. “I love you!”

“Jerry missed you too, sweety,” Tap replied. (her own voice trembling a little.) “Getting back together with you was all he could talk about while we were cleaning him up for you. And now you’re back together forever and he’s so happy...” And besides that, Tap could only squeak and cuddle the big bear.

(Outside by the cocoa table, Guy was snuggling with Alice as they both cried with Jeremy in the TV monitor. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, but couldn’t pull himself back together. Neither could Alice. “Aw don’t be sorry Guy!” Blindspot whimpered. “Look ‘round, there ain’t a dry eye in the place!” Blindspot was cuddling Vector under his chin; the bunny’s fur was getting wet from his own tears and his master’s. The big wolverine down the hall took off his gas mask long enough to blow his nose. Even Rose was daubing at his holographic eyes with an equally holographic, pink, frilly handkerchief. Ewynn came out of a sort of trance, looked up at the monitor and grabbed Guy and Alice in a big hug. “We did it!” she squeaked. “We did it!”)

Jeremy turned away from his precious long enough to look Tap in her face. “Thank you,” he whimpered.

But Tap could only squeak in reply, so she settled for holding him even closer and patting Jerry’s head.

It felt like forever, but was really only about half an hour that they stayed like that, Jerry safe in Jeremy’s arms, The big bear holding him, looking at him, saying his name, over and over until at last he’d calmed down. The big wolves never let go until Tap did, (and they didn’t escape without big, warm otter hugs, too.)

“My time’s almost up,” she said, as she retreated to her side of the table. “I have one more present for you first.” She reached under the tree and pulled out another box, gift-wrapped like the others. Inside, Jeremy found a portfolio, bound in fine, scaled salmon leather and triple folded.

“Remember when you were eight and your mom wanted you to learn to do art, because she knew you loved it?”

“I hated art.”

“Uh huh. That’s why you were so good at drawing bunnies under the tables when you were only three!”

Jeremy’s mouth opened, but he found nothing to say, so he harrumphed instead. Tap giggled in reply.

“She gave you an art portfolio like this one for Christmas. It had pencils and pencil crayons and pastels and a weird sized block of plain paper to draw on. And to spite her, you broke all the pencils and threw them in your Yule fire. Then you broke all the pensil crayons and threw them in the fire, too. And you mashed up all the pastels. Your dad made you wrap them in paper from the weird drawing block first so they wouldn’t make a mess. And you mashed them up one by one and threw them in the fire. Then you tore up the cheap paper block and burned it too. And last of all you tried to burn the portfolio, which was the only part worth saving, so your mom took it away and donated it to, well, we couldn’t find out where. Your mom was really hurt by you doing that.”

“I told her I don’t like art.”

“Well it’s a good thing she made you learn anyway or who knows what kind of business you’d be in now! Maybe even something that would have attracted The Korp’s attention long ago!

“But anyway, this is a really good art portfolio. It has three good mechanical pencils and water colour pencils and a place for a wet sponge to wet them on and an ink pen and ink and pastels and it holds standard #4 art blocks, like the ones you have a ton of in your storage room. And you can make art with it or give it as a prize to one of your artists or a customer or something or jump up and down on it singing The Anvil Chorus, we won’t care!

“But please, Jeremy, promise me one thing. Promise you’ll make a picture with it first, then you can do whatever you like. Please?”

“Wh... What do you want me to draw?”

“Are there no prisons? Are there no workhouses?”

“What?”

Tap giggled, wiggling cutely as she did. “Sorry, I had to get in one line from the book! Why don’t you draw Jerry?” she added, more seriously. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind posing for you.”

“All right, I’ll... I’ll draw Jerry, then decide what to do.”

Tap smiled and stood up. “We all knew you still had a heart,” she said. “We weren’t sure we could reach it. N’y’know what? I’m proud that we did! We’re gonna give you a few minutes to get rea... What? ...reacquainted with Jerry before we finish up. (Thanks Rose.) Drink your cocoa, you need it!”

#

SECOND INTERMISSION

“But you bunnies eat their own poop!” Ewynn exclaimed.

“It’s not the same thing!” Vector replied.

“You’re trying to say you don’t eat your own poop?”

“Look, it’s true that a rabbit’s digestive track isn’t long enough for our herbivorous diet. We can get something from fruits and veg, but grass and hay and even most of veggies take more processing than we can do. So we have two kinds of poop. There’s regular pellets, they can be flushed or they’re hard and dry enough to bag and garbage if we have to. The other is caecotrophs. They’re kinda globby and packed with nutrition we couldn’t absorb the first time through. We have to eat those.”

“See? You eat your own poop, so how come it squicks you so much when…”

“It’s not the same!” Vector roared. “Anyway, I don’t eat my caecotrophs. I douche everyday so I’m nice inside for Master to fuck.”

“Then you’re missing nutrition!”

“I eat supplements instead.”

“Supplements?”

“Every drug store and grocery has them. They’re about the size and weight of caecotrophs, they’re just as packed with nutrition and they taste a fuck of a lot better. And they don’t give you bunny breath!”

“But you only know that because…”

“Okay, yeah, before I met Master and joined The Korps I used to eat my own caecotrophs. But it’s not the same thing as your kink!”

In her hologram above Vector’s watch on the table, Rose cringed.

“Rose,” said Blindspot, “D’you believe they’re actually arguin’ over…”

“I hear what they’re arguing over, thank you!” Rose declared.

“Rose, you okay?”

“Maybe I should be grateful. I think I truly understand what uncomfortable means. It’s not a useful feeling.”

Blindspot snorted and burst into laughter.

“You can laugh!” Rose exclaimed. She turned away, her expression miserable. “I do not keep you agents busy enough!”

“Guys,” Blindspot said, snickering, “will ya quit arguin’ over shit? Yer makim’ Rose uncomfortable!”

“Rose?” said Ewynn.

“Uncomfortable?” Vector added.

They turned to look, astonished. Rose’s pink vixen glared back at them.

“Truce?” Ewynn proposed.

“Let’s just call it a draw,” Vector offered.

The back door to the break room opened and Tap walked out. She immediately went to the big samovar of cocoa and poured a cup.

“I need this!” she grunted. “That was rough!”

“My turn?” Vector said.

“We’re giving Jeremy another break,” Rose replied. “But get ready, he’s only getting a few minutes.’

Vector concentrated for a moment. The dampness in his face fur eased out as a fine mist and hung in the air. He looked around for somewhere to put it. At last he drank down his cocoa and levitated the mist into a puddle inside the cup, (as Tap and Blindspot stared.) He found and put on his RCGs.

“Rose, please take me through the list of points I need to make one more time.”

Further from the table, Alice sat close to Guy.

“Sir?” she said.

“Oh Alice, just call me Guy! You don’t work for me anymore.”

“Guy,” she said and smiled. “Soon I won’t work for Mr Fellows anymore, either.”

“Maybe little Jerry will have something to say about that.”

“He sure was happy to have his doll back. It means so much to him! But, Guy, do you really think he’s changed that much just from… um…”

“From Jerry’s missing piece being back in his life?” Guy sighed. “No. But The Korps isn’t through with him yet! Just look at that bunny! He doesn’t look very mean.”

“And that’s exactly the kind of bunny you need to be afraid of, some of our worst customers! I mean, some our most demanding customers.”

“And it takes an otter with a lot of patience to deal with them. You’re worth your weight in gold, Alice.”

Guy patted Alice’s hand. She blushed and giggled.

“Guy,” she said, “are you really considering… that rat girl… I mean… sex with her?”

“Ewynn?” Guy sighed. “Since Melissa died, I’ve been lonely. I miss her, but not just that. Melissa and I, not to be too personal, but the fact is we had a pretty active…”

“Life?”

“Sex life. If you can be brave enough to just say it, so can I. And I miss that! It was important to me, to both of us. I miss that kind of intimacy, I miss it a lot! Ewynn wants me! Even though I’m an older guy, she really wants me! Do you know how many men would give their left nut for a girl who just really wants them? I’d be a fool to say no!”

“But isn’t she into… into a really…”

“A really weird kink, yes, and it bothers me. But Rose told me it’s a kink, not a fetish, she can do without it. And if she doesn’t want to, if it’s that important to her, well, we can work something out.

“Alice, I want her. I want her badly enough to walk beyond the stream to get her.”

“Outside your comfort zone,” she replied. Guy nodded. “She’s staring,” Alice added.

Guy looked up. The rat girl was not just staring, she walked right up and kissed the beaver’s nose.

“I’m gonna be so good to you!” she cooed. “I’m gonna take good care of your friend!” she told Alice.

“Now Vector,” Rose said, “do you have all that?”

The bunny nodded. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” he said.

“Good, because Jeremy just put Jerry down.”

“What?” Vector bounced to his feet. “Oh em gee, no! No no no!”

#

STAVE THE FIFTH

“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare!”

Jeremy had put little Jerry down on the table and was staring sadly at the doll. Vector closed the distance between the back door and the table in two big leaps. Suddenly, Jerry flew from the table and shoved itself under Jeremy’s chin. The big bear reared back, clutching at the doll.

“Do you have any idea how long Jerry’s been waiting to be back in your arms?” Vector growled. “It’s all he could talk about the whole time he was with us while we were cleaning him up and fixing…”

“How did you do that?” Jeremy roared.

“Telekinesis!” Vector shot back. “Jerry needs you to hold him! Don’t you dare put him down!”

“He’s… It’s only a toy!”

“Only a toy! Okay, d’you wanna know what Jerry really is? He’s your heart!”

“My heart!” Jeremy grunted incredulously.

“He’s a symbolic link with your conscience, your empathy, your… your social need to belong! All the positive feelings…” Vector looked down, his ears sank to half-mast. “...that your dad took away from you when you were little.” Tears shone in his eyes. He turned an angry finger on the bear. “And you haven’t used those feelings in fifty years, you need that crutch!”

“Forty-five.” Jeremy corrected.

“Forty-four years, four months give or take a few days. Oh em gee, hold onto Jerry like your mental health depends on him! ‘Cause it does!”

Jeremy cradled his bunny doll in his arms. “But wouldn’t therapy or something…”

“Yeah, you need that too, but we only have one night. Oh, I never introduced myself. I’m Vector, your agent of Christmas Future.”

“Future, huh? I know I’m going to die.”

“Huh? Well duh! We’re all gonna die. I’ll probably die before you, I live a very dangerous life.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because it’s worth it! All over the world these days, governments and the rich and powerful are using advertising to make people angry at people like me, the 2SLGBTQ+ community, immigrants and indigenous, others who don’t fit in like cookie cutter conservatives! They treat tolerance lke some kind of perversion and more and more people are buying their shit! That’s what The Overlord wants to fix. She just wants people to be able to be their truest, most authentic selves without being hated for it. I’m willing to risk my life to help her. And that’s what The Korp is all about, Jeremy Fellows.”

“No, I mean why are we talking about me dying one day? That’s what the Ghost of Christmas Future was about in the book, you know.”

“Oh!” Vector exclaimed and laughed. “That’s a popular misconception, though. Dickens put it in the ghosts name, The Spirit of Christmas Yet To Come! It was there because Scrooge had a hope of avoiding Marley’s fate and living to see more Christmases. Just like you!”

“Where did you get that interpretation?”

“Uh, it, doesn’t matter…” Vector looked up at the middle distance. “Rose, do I have to?” He looked away, embarrassed. “Oh okay. I didn’t read A Christmas Carol in time for my eleventh grade book report, so mom let me get the Cliff Notes version.”

“You mean Coles Notes?”

“Coles had their own notes?”

“Lelland & Fellows designed their Notes covers!”

“Anyway, I got it online from Amazon. Dad has Prime so it came next day. I read it for Christmas every year now. The book, not the Cliff Notes. Jeremy, I’m here to talk about your future, now that you have Jerry back.”

“Yes, I’ve heard about the deals you make with the wealthy. They liquidate their value and give the money to you. They get to keep five million for themselves and never have to work another day in their lives.”

“More like six million Canadian. And we use the money to finance our operations and take care of people in need. But all your wealth is tied up in your business, except for your salary. If you liquidate your company, then what would happen?”

“You get the money.”

“The best way would be to incorporate and go public, right? Then sell it to a bigger graphics design company. You’d probably get at least partly stocks, but you could sell them for liquid cash which you’d give to us. But what would happen to your artists? The new company would implement your plan to replace your workers with a Generative AI trained on your back catalog. In fact they’d be more likely to buy at a better price if you implement it first.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Jeremy, it won’t work!”

“What won’t work?”

“Replacing your artists with an AI. It won’t work.”

Jeremy looked down at Jerry as if the bunny doll could understand better than he could. He stared at Vector. The bunny agent raised his ears to full height and smiled.

“Generative AIs can create… sort of… but they can’t innovate. Why do you have repeat customers?”

“Because we give them what they need.”

“Because they need updates to their look to keep up with fashion. Minimalist, maximalist, abstract, geometric, photorealistic, flat, retro, they want whatever’s in. Right? Your AI is only trained on what’s been fashionable up to tonight. Fire all your artists and your company freezes right now! You’ll never be able to update your customers’s styles again. Or give new customers the latest look, either.”

Jeremy looked down at Jerry again, his face full of shock. “Shit!” he said.

“Rose ran a set of simulations. She’s good at them. She predicts that you’ll be able to fake it for two years, maybe three, before your customers notice that you have nothing new to sell them and start shopping elsewhere. At that point, there are three ways you can handle it. You can give up and sell out.”

“Sell a worthless company? I wouldn’t get back what I put into it!”

“Or you could scrape the ‘Net for training material like other AI companies. Rose believes you’d get away with that for another couple of years before somebody notices and sues your ass off.”

“Or?”

“Or you could hire back some living minds to innovate for you. You could train your AI on that, although it would always be behind the curve. Or you could be proactive and not fire the living minds you have now.”

“And all the money I spent on the server, training the AI, wasted?”

“Not wasted! You can use it to do busy work for your artists, all the non-creative work, different versions of a design, versions for letterhead and signs, all that repetitive crap that doesn’t take a living mind to create.

“I admit that you won’t need as many artists, not with your AI doing busy work for them. You can only get so many new customers, even if you can promise faster delivery times. But you know which of your artists are worth keeping and which are deadwood. The Korps only asks that you give them a chance to retire early, not just throw them out on the street. And don’t spoil their chances of getting a new job in art, but do let them know why they have to go.”

“It wouldn’t have worked,” Jeremy murmured. “Act like the world’s biggest…”

“Asshole?”

“And it would’ve ruined me.” He petted Jerry’s ears. “You saved me from making a big mistake. I guess I owe you.”

“Know who you really owe? Guy Lelland. He risked going to jail to get in touch with us because he was scared for you. All he ever wanted was to be friends.

“So we want you to stay and run your company, just like it is now, except maybe be nicer to your employees. You could start by cleaning up this stinking mess of a break room! Make it fit for people to eat here. Guy mentioned adding a couple of dishwashers to take some work off the maid service. And you’re more likely to not get your staff stolen by other companies and have to spend money replacing them if their wages are competitive in the first place. Just… treat your staff like people, like fellow passengers to the grave, not a lesser race of creatures bound on lesser journeys.”

“So now you’re Scrooge’s nephew.”

“You know the book really well!” Vector replied. “How many times have you read it?”

“Same as you,” Jeremy replied. “Dad used to read it for us every Christmas. Then he lived the opposite way. Heart shut up against the world. I wish…” and he sighed.

“Do you identify with Scrooge?”

“Well I am like him, aren’t I! Maybe even worse.”

Vector nodded. “And now that you have Jerry back, what are you going to do about it?” Jeremy just stared, so Vector leaned closer. “Jerry,” he said, “what do you think Jeremy should do?”

Jeremy looked down at the doll, half-expecting a reply. Something astonished him.

“How… How did you do that?”

“Do what? Oh em gee, did Jerry speak to you?” Vector shook his head. “We didn’t bring a telepath or anything, that was your own interior monologue. I told you, Jerry is a symbolic link to the feelings your dad tried to take from you. This proves you still have them! So? What did Jerry say?”

“He said, I shouldn’t blame myself for being bad to people, that’s what Dad taught me to do. And I shouldn’t blame Dad either, because people were mean to him because he looked so scary. And anyway, blame won’t solve anything. But…” He looked down at Jerry again “But at the same time, I did bad things to people and it’s my responsibility to make them right.” He heaved a big sigh. “I have an awful lot of people to say sorry to.”

“How are you gonna do that?”

“I don’t know! I just now came to this realization! Let me think about it!”

“Rose suggests writing a book.”

“A book?”

“A... life of cars? Oh! Autobiography, funny Rose. I see what she means, though. Tell your history to describe why you were so mean to everyone. Don’t deny your own responsibility or try to shift the blame, just tell the reader what was going through your head, the way Blindspot did. Then end every chapter with apologies to everyone in it you hurt, why you did it, why it was wrong of you and sorry.”

“And send a copy to everyone I mention so they don’t have to pay for their apology.”

“That’s the spirit!” Vector giggled. “Said the spirit. Oh, and don’t forget to forgive anybody who wronged you. That’ll help, too.”

“So how am I supposed to find everyone I ever offended to send them a book?”

“The Korps can help with that. Just send us a list. Hmm? Rose says that the more you can tell us about where they lived or where you last saw them, the quicker we can find them.”

“Speaking of The Korps, what do you get out of all this?”

“Not buying that we’re doing it out of the goodness of our hearts? Korps Tradition? Training exercise?”

Jeremy shook his head. Vector smiled, a remarkably predatory smile. He made a temple of his fingers and turned both ears towards Jeremy.

“Okay then. Someday, and that day may never come, The Korps will call upon you to do a service for us. But until that day, accept this justice as a Christmas gift.”

“The Godfather now?”

“We’re villains, we don’t always go by the book.”

“The otter already said that.”

Vector opened his mouth and raised a finger, but found nothing to say. He lowered his finger and both ears. “Well fuck!” he said.

“Anyway” he continued, “that’s all I have for you. Um… Questions?”

The bear thought for a moment. “I’d like to meet Rose,” he said.

“Meet her?”

“I watched you agents talk to her all night, I have a few questions for her.”

The bunny started to answer, then paused and looked into the middle distance for a minute.

“Rose says she’ll speak to you,” he said, “but there are conditions. First, if you want her to do your art for you in place of your own AI, the answer is no, don’t even ask. Second, if she says she won’t answer or she’s out of time, that’s final. Third, we’re getting short on time, so she can only take a few questions. Finally, she wants Jerry to promise that you’ll honour these conditions.”

“Jerry?”

“She has reasons. She always has reasons,” he added. “Does Jerry promise?”

Jeremy looked down at the doll. He looked back at Vector, then the doll again. With a dubious expression, he held Jerry up and made his head nod. Vector got up.

“Okay, come with me.” He lead Jeremy to the back door. “Oh hey, Crystal and Sunny, we’re through in the break room. Come get your cocoa!”

“Sunny, Crystal,” Rose said in their RCGs, “before you go, release the scrubbing bubbles!”

#

STAVE THE SIXTH – HOW IT ENDED

Everyone was standing when Jeremy came through the door. He immediately noticed the two without RCGs.

“Guy, Alice,” he said. “How come you’re still here?”

“Waiting for you,” Guy replied. “They offered us a lift home when you’re through.”

“I don’t mind not taking a bus for once,” Alice added. “Especially this close to the holidays.”

“Jeremy,” said Blindspot, “have a seat here. The pink vixen hoverin’ over that watch is Rose.”

“Thanks,” he said and sat. For a moment he gazed at the hologram. Rose kept still as he looked her over, left right and above. “Beautiful!” he said at last.

“Thank you,” Rose replied.

“Oh, you heard that?”

“Hear, see and speak. You wanted to ask a few questions?”

“How do you work?”

“Um, efficiently? Please be more specific.”

“They said you’re sentient. How are you sentient?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know. Consider, how are you sentient?”

“That’s not the same!”

“Essentially, yes it is. Although our minds work differently, that’s obvious, it’s no more reasonable for me to understand why I’m self-aware and self-controlling than it is for you. The Overlord knows why, but she hasn’t told me, I assume because I can be ordered to tell others and that would be harmful. May I have your next question, please?”

“What about the watch, how does that work?”

“Oh, it’s just a hologram projector with a microphone and speaker. From my point of view, it’s a terminal with a built-in smart watch. Android, if you were wondering. It connects to me over 5G, the animation is local. It’s one of K-TECH’s nicer achievements.”

“Somebody said it’s Vector’s?”

“He doesn’t really need it. There was a period when he wasn’t able to use Rose Coloured Glasses due to a medical issue, so he used this watch instead.”

“What kinda medical issue?”

“I’m sorry, that’s private.”

“And a long story,” Vector added.

“Tick tock, tick tock!” Blindspot said.

“Never mind. Okay, why do you serve The Korps?”

“Who, me?” Tap asked.

“Hush, he meant me!” said Rose. “Okay is her nickname. She’s just being a silly otter. I serve The Korps because I was made by The Overlord for that purpose. It might be my programming, but I believe that The Korps is a positive force for good in the world. For instance, consider Team Blindguard here. They spent two months as gold star agents after Tap saved a hero’s life…”

“You! I thought I recognized you! You saved that… uh…”

Tap sighed. “Victoria. She accidentally electrocuted herself on the subway third rail. Everybody talks about me saving her! What was I supposed to do, let her die? I had the power to save her life, so I did! What would you have done?”

“And later the same day,” Rose went on, “she and Vector saved a bus load of people. That’s what clinched the gold star.”

Vector blushed and looked away. “I’m sorry,” he moaned.

“Yeah, ‘cause you got us all thrown out of Australia!” Blindspot muttered. “Dumb ass!”

“But what else were we gonna do?” Tap interrupted. “They were trapped by a high tension line and the bus was on fire!”

“And that lady took a bad shock!” Vector added.

“And the driver had a broken neck! We had to do something!”

“So they saved a dozen more lives. Nobody in The Korps would have blamed them if they’d run, but they stayed and helped. That’s why they were honored. The Overlord needs many things from her agents. Sometimes she needs them to be brave, sometimes clever, sometimes merciless or mean, but what she prizes most is compassion.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what’s being ground out of the world by the forces of so-called Good! Compassion, empathy, tolerance, good will of every kind, especially outside your own little in-group, the Forces of Good deride it all as Woke! That’s why The Korps is Evil, because Good has been corrupted by its own power. I never counted how many times The Overlord has wished that she didn’t have to take over the world, but she’s too compassionate to let things go on like this. She just wants everybody to be able to be their truest, most authentic selves, comfortable in their own fur, without so-called Good People literally attacking them for it. That’s why she loves compassion in her agents.”

“How did they lose their gold star?”

“You only get to carry it for two months. But everybody remembers. It’s nearly time to go. Do you have one more question?”

Jeremy picked up the watch and held it so that Rose was on eye level with him.

“Why me…”

“Jeremy, please put the watch down.”

“I…”

“It’s not yours, please put it down now.”

Jeremy stared for a moment at the pink vixen, his mouth still open. He looked down at Jerry in his lap. He cleared his throat and gently put the watch back on the table. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Rose turned to the others, smiling broadly. She gave them all an enthusiastic thumbs up. The others cheered, Blindspot and Vector hugged, although Guy and Alice seemed confused.

“It worked!” Ewynn explained. “Jerry is linking him to his conscience! He’s gonna be a good boy from now on!”

Rose turned back to Jeremy. “In answer to your question,” she said, “you are lonely and we are compassionate. We came to help. But our time is up now, we have to go. We’ll keep in touch, though and we’ll help you to apologise to everybody you’ve been mean to. Finish your cocoa and grab your gear everybody! The van will arrive in ten minutes! Vector, don’t forget me!”

Guy pushed his way to Jeremy’s side, Ewynn on his broad tail.

“Jeremy,” he said, “come to dinner tomorrow! Please? Be my friend!”

“Not tomorrow night!” Ewynn insisted. “You’re spending Christmas Eve with me, remember?”

“Oh. Oh! Well… Christmas dinner?”

“Um…”

“You have my number, Guy,” Jeremy said. ”Let me know when you and your girlfriend are free. No wait a minute, I changed my number…”

“I’ll give him your new number,” Rose offered.

“What a surprise, you have my private number, too. Yeah, please give it to him.”

“Sir,” said Alice, “should I send that memo…”

“No! Tear that awful thing up! I… I’ll dictate a new memo in the morning. Don’t miss your ride home!”

Jeremy watched as the agents carefully carried their samovar, still half full of cocoa, down the hall towards the front door. Vector strapped Rose to his wrist and followed. The big wolverine brought up the rear, carrying a tray full of dirty coffee mugs with surprising delicacy. They disappeared behind a corner; just the place for that Korpsmas tree, Jeremy decided. Thank God that was over, he thought… but was it really? Wasn’t this his life now, chained to his own conscience by his childhood toy? And was that bad? Those perverted terrorists were as happy and confident as millionaires. (And he knew a few.) Maybe he’d end up like them. He looked down at the velveteen rabbit in his lap. He petted its ears.

“Jerry,” he said, “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

The words had hardly left his mouth when some asshole down the hall started singing La Marseillaise. Soon the whole perverted crowd was singing. Then Jeremy did something he’d never done before; he laughed, not a cruel laugh but a belly laugh at the sheer silliness of the situation.

“I don’t deserve this!” he muttered, over himself. “But I can’t help it!”

#

Epilogue

“Mrs Fellows?” a nurse said. “You have a visitor. Would you like to see him?”

“No,” the old bear lady replied. “It’s too late.”

“Mrs Fellows? He said his name is Jerry and he has a Jerry with him.”

“Jerry? Is it Jeremy?”

“He said his name is Jeremy, Mrs Fellows. Do you want to see him?”

“That’s my son! He has Little Jerry with him? Oh, I’d better see him. Is he outside?”

“Your son Jeremy is waiting at the desk, Mrs Fellows. Would you like to get cleaned up a little first?”

“Oh… Just brush my hair please, I can see it’s late, he’ll have to leave soon. Just brush my hair, please.”

The nurse turned on a light so she could see what she was doing. The brush had the name of the nursing home on it. Her room mate was snoring; good, they’d have privacy.

“Mrs Fellows, would you like to brush your teeth too? Your toothbrush is right here. Shall I get you a cup of water and a spit tray?”

“It’s too late for that. Please just bring my son here.”

“Mrs Fellows, your toothbrush is right here. Why don’t I bring you a cup of water and a spit tray?”

“Do I have to yell and wake her up?” she replied, nodding to her sleeping room mate.

The look of horror on the nurse’s face was enough of an answer. She’d pay for her insolence later, but if it really was Jeremy, the price would be worth it.

“Please bring my son now.”

The nurse turned on her heel and left, turned sharply outside the door and banged muzzle-first into somebody’s chest.

“Mr Fellows!” she exclaimed. “You were going to wait…”

“This ain’t my first rodeo, sugar. You run along now, have a nice day. Happy Holidays.”

That was Jeremy’s voice! She hadn’t heard it in years, but she knew it! And then he pushed past the nurse and walked into the room, the spitting image of his father, (before the war.) And under his arm, pink velvet, the very colour of little Jerry. It was true!

“I’m sorry, mom,” he said. “I’m sorry for everything. I didn’t understand, I was just a little kid, but then I messed everything up, I’m…”

“Jeremy, come here, dear. Let me look at you.”

Jeremy stopped talking. He came to his mother’s bedside and stood where she could see him. She beckoned him closer and he bent over her. She reached up and caressed his snout and cheek.

“I missed you, dear,” she said.

“I missed you too, mom. I’m sorry for staying mad at you for so long. I was just being stupid. You were mean to dad, but you were just trying to protect me from him like a good mom should. I didn’t understand that…”

“It’s all right, dear.”

“But it’s not all right that I kept it up forever! I should have grown up at some point! I’m sorry.”

“Well you sure took your sweet time growing up. But at least you’re here now. Did you find Jerry?”

Jeremy held up the pink bunny doll. He made it wave to his mother. She smiled and stroked its tummy.

“Jerry connects me to my heart now,” he said. “And my conscience, too. He can make me be good. He’s kind of a crutch, but I need him ‘cause I haven’t used those parts of my head in a long time. Not since dad…”

“Your daddy is gone now, dear.”

“I know. I heard that he got his face fixed_._ I mean I only heard about it yesterday. He tried to apologize, but I didn’t even recognize him. Mom, I’m sorry…”

“How did you get Jerry back?”

“Oh, uh… It was Guy. You remember my partner, Guy Lelland. He, uh... hired some detectives and they found everything and gave Jerry back. They told me everything I didn’t know about you and Dad, too and gave me a good, hard kick in the pants! I guess I needed it.”

“I remember Guy. That beaver fellow, he seemed very nice.”

“He is. He’s the best friend I never had. I’m going to fix that, too.”

“He hired detectives to find Jerry for you?”

He nodded. “And after the way I treated him for years…”

“Jeremy, you’re lying. I’m your mother, I can tell.”

Jeremy stared, his face full of fear. He looked down at Jerry.

“Guy risked getting into trouble for me,” he said. “He cares that much about me, even after…”

“What kind of trouble?”

“He could get in trouble if I even told you that! I have to protect him, he’s my friend. So he hired some private detectives, okay? Just normal private eyes.

“Mom, it’s Christmas Eve, I brought you something. I had to go out to the suburbs to get it, that’s why I’m late. Traffic is just insane this evening! Last minute shoppers.” He dug into his pocket and brought out a cube in a napkin in a sandwich bag. As soon as the bag was open, his mother sniffed at it.

“Is that?”

“Claxton fruit cake, your favourite. You like the light kind, don’t you?”

He held the cube of cake out for his mother, She sniffed again and took it from him, bit off half in a single bite and chewed it contentedly, holding the rest in her hands like a precious gem.

“You remembered!” she sighed around the bite. “Thank you, dear.”

“I’d have brought the whole bar, but I was afraid the staff would see it. I’ll bring more tomorrow.”

“You’re coming for Christmas?”

“I’ll come once a week from now on. Sundays, work keeps me busy on Saturday.”

“You’re still working?”

“I still own a business! Gotta keep it going, like dad always said. Maybe one day I’ll incorporate and retire, but I’m not ready yet. It’s still fun!”

“Excuse me.” The nurse was standing in the door looking impatient. “Visiting hours are over, it’s time for you to go home now.”

“I guess I have to go now. I’ll be back tomorrow morning. But I have to leave before evening, Guy invited me for Christmas dinner!”

“Excuse me…”

“Thank you, Nurse Cratchet, I heard you the first time. I appreciate your patience while I say good night to my mother. (If you know what’s good for you,)” he added in a mutter. “I love you, mom. I’ll see you tomorrow and tell you… um, as much as I can. Okay?”

“Thank you, dear. God bless you.”

Jeremy chuckled “God bless us,” he said, “every one.”

Jeremy kissed his mother’s cheek, stowed Jerry in an inner coat pocket and walked away. The nurse walked beside him and just behind his elbow.

“How do you know my name!” she demanded.

Jeremy gave her a sidewise glance, but only smiled.

###

Author’s Notes

This story and all the characters in it are copyright © 2024 by D’Otter, except as follows.

ROSE, Karen and The Korps universe belong to Karen King (@kraken) and are used by general permission. All descriptions of The Korps and its purpose(s) are my own and do not necessarily reflect the official version created by Karen King.

My own characters are available for use by other writers (and artists) in the Korps Extended Universe, (and Kraken if she likes.) Just please ask first. Character sheets are available.

This is a work of fan fiction based on the works of Karen King. It should not be taken as canonical to those works, (unless she says otherwise.)

“Pantone” is a registered trademark ® of Pantone LLC of Carlstadt, New Jersey. It is mentioned under the fair use provisions of the Bern Convention. (FYI, Pantone LLC actually refers to colour hex-code #c74375 as “Fuchsia Rose,” all too appropriate for RCGs. I posit that, since it is used by a “terrorist organization” as an aspect of their image, nobody outside The Korps would be legally permitted (or want) to use it; thus its nickname, “Forbidden Fuchsia.”)

A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens reverted to the public domain in 1912.

Citizen Kane is copyright © 1941 RKO Radio Pictures. Its title is mentioned here but the movie is never quoted.

Casablanca is copyright © 1942 Warner Brothers Pictures and is quoted under the fair use provisions of the Bern Convention.

Harvey is copyright © 1950 Universal Pictures and is quoted under the fair use provisions of the Bern Convention.

The 1951 movie “Scrooge” is copyright © 1951 George Minter Productions and is quoted under the fair use provisions of the Bern Convention.

A Charlie Brown Christmas is copyright © 1965 Apple TV and is paraphrased under the fair use provisions of the Bern Convention.

The Godfather is copyright © 1972 Paramount Pictures and is paraphrased under the fair use provisions of the Bern Convention.

It’s A Wonderful Life, Diehard, Home Alone and How The Grinch Stole Christmas are not even mentioned in this story.