Of Men and Animals - More than Animal
The first chapter of my series. A sad introduction to the world after an event known as the Shift.
Again, this one is short. Its a small inroduction, a sad one, to the world as it is now. There is a glimpse of how humanity views those they now share the planet with. Sorry for any spelling or gramaticle errors.
"In Iran today, orders have been given for the systematic apprehension and execution of shifted. There is currently a world-wide debate on whether or not this constitutes as a violation of humanity laws"
"Japan's government is looking into the possibility of drafting legal documents granting human rights to shifted. If drafted and passed, Japan would be the first country to do so."
"The United States congress is currently debating the House Bill H. R. 1087. Which would make it a crime to fornicate or have any sexual relations what so ever with a member of the shifted race."
The door to the cell opened with a loud, slow creak. Rex looked up from his small television set. It had been given to him, with permission from the warden, by his owners. The warden, accompanied by an escort team of six, all human, stood past threshhold. Time had run out. The look on the lead escort's face told him every thing. They weren't here to lead him to out processing. Not the one he had been hoping for the past two years. He was lead away in ankle chains linked by a short but sturdy chain to a set of wrist cuffs.
"S'time Rex." The warden said from the right of the escort team. Rex had been tried and convicted of murder. There was no degree. By United States federal law any shifted who killed a human voluntarily or involuntarily, premeditated or not, was to be put to death. There was no clause for self defense. In the United States, shifted were merely intelligent animals.
"M'sorry son...your family did all they could." The warden spoke softly, his voice mournful. Warden Jameson, head of Shifted Correctional's maximum penitentiary, hated his job. A member of the ASPCA before the Shift, he had come to see those like Rex as equals. Sentient beings deserving the same rights. It killed him to be in charge of a maxpen where his convictions were violated on a daily bases. I can do whats best right here, though. He had once said. He was walking what he saw as an innocent man, not animal, down the long walk.
Conner "Rex" Peterson. A shifted of the german shepherd breed. Had he been human, he would be free. His crime would have been ruled self defense, or involuntary man slaughter at worst. He killed a man, defending his owners. A mugger who intended to rob his man and his woman of their money, right in front of their own home. He hadnt seen the shifted getting out of the driver side passenger seat. Didn't hear him as Conner crept up from behind. The yelp had left the muggers lips, the butcher's knife dropped from his fingers. Conner had thrown the man over his shoulder. He didn't intend for him to hit his head on Peterson's brick mail box. Hadn't meant for his head to crack open hard enough to leave a red splotch where he had collided. The force of the throw had snapped the man's neck and crushed his skull. Coroners weren't sure which killed him first. The law didn't care. Thief or no, a human was dead at the hands of a shifted.
For the past two years Mr. and Mrs. Peterson had labored against the law with every resource they had. Every ounce of money, every out reach group, public radio, blogs, independent media, public media. Every thing they could to get the story out there in the hopes of changing the courts decision. The law was clear though, and the judge adamant. Conner would die for the crime of killing a human.
He was lead into a white steril room. A form shaped chair in the middle of it. An IV team of three stood to the side and back, next to the machine that would do the dead. Along the way they had stopped at a side room where Conner had been fitted with an IV connection in his wrist. He laid down on the man shaped table. His heart began to race as the connection tube was fitted to the one running out of his arm. He gripped the arms of the chair as the straps were locked in place around his waist, chest, arms and legs. He hadn't realized he had begun to pant until Jameson placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at the warden, there were tears in the old man's eyes. He swallowed heavily.
"Conner Peterson." he choked out. A camera that had been set up to record the execution, proof it had been carried out, zoomed on on the shepard. "Do you have any last words?"
Conner looked away from him. He looked directly at the camera's lens. His features were set. He wouldn't cry. He nodded. "We breath as you do. Walk as you do. Speak as you do. Learn as you do. How can you call your self human when you treat those who are more than animals as nothing less?"
"Is that all?" Jameson asked. Conner nodded. Those were his last words. He wanted them to mean something to who ever watched that disk from the recorder. There was nothing to be helped for him. His hopes were no longer focused on him self, hoping for those who would come after instead. The Warden turned, nodding to the IV team. A single button was pressed and the machine emptied its three vials one at a time. One would numb his body. The other would swiftly put him to sleep, and the last would make sure he never woke up.
Conner Peterson breathed his last on a warm Monday evening in June. His body would never be returned to his family, given over to medical authorities for study instead. Jameson's body was found two weeks later in the arm chair of his private study at his home. A class of bourbon and an empty bottle of prescription sleeping pills on the stand next to it. A note on the desk of his study shortly there after. Four words were all that had been written down: I have a dream.