_What_Bunnies_Are_For_-_Part_12_

        Jamie pulled himself painfully into a chair.
        "Won't you have a seat, Mr. Mullens?" the suit said, sweetly,
then held up a hand to the mirror shades approaching behind. "That's
all right, Marsden, I want to speak to our guest face to face. I can
hardly do that if he's lieing on the floor.
        "The injection," he went on, "merely weakens her heart walls.
We then induce an infarction by overstressing her, through sex. It's
really quite a pleasant way to go...."
        The suit watched the scarred man pull the needle from Tabby's
arm. Her mouth opened; her tongue and nose were already very red, she
seemed to be blushing over every inch of her body. The scarred man
offered her a cold drink; she gulped it down and seemed to want more.
        Jamie looked from the monitor to the suit in disbelief. Tabby
seemed frightened; she cuddled herself, panting, and looked at her
hands as if she were holding something deadly. But the look on her
face was merely perplexing to Jamie, as if she really were in danger;
he knew that she was, he just didn't know how to feel about it. The
look on the suit's face was actually wrong! Jamie expected him to
look impassive, amused, pleased with himself maybe. He shouldn't look
the way Jamie felt, as if someone he loved was dieing!
        "You love her," he found himself saying.
        "No."
        "You've been with her yourself, that's why. All that talk
about your enemies falling under her spell, taping them so you can
blackmail them, easiest thing in the world. But you've been with her
too, and now you care as much for her as they did!"
        The suit seemed to have aged in the seconds they'd been
watching; the eyes he turned on Jamie were empty, but his lip still
quivered. "Of course," he said, "we can make no exceptions...."
        "How can you kill somebody you love? How can you do that?"
        Anger flared in the suit's face now.
        "Boss?" said the mirror shades.
        "Get out!"
        Stunned and uncertain, the mirror shades reached for the door
and cleared his throat. The suit yelled the order and the goon left.
        "Gonna do me yourself?"
        "I could."
        "But I'm right, you know."
        The suit looked at the console. "I can't make exceptions out
of personal bias."
        Jamie swallowed his first, angry reply, thought of another.
"Because once you have mercy on one bunny, there's always a next one,
and a next, and then the wolves, and soon you don't have control over
your own company anymore."
        "Exactly," the suit replied, astonished.
        "So the killing goes on, anytime a bunny steps out of line,
just so you can feel in control."
        The suit sighed, angry but relieved. "It's not a matter of
tight control or personal power, Mr. Mullens."
        "You just said it was," Jamie interrupted. "`Soon you don't
have control over your own company anymore,' `Exactly.'"
        The suit stared angrily at the unionist.
        "Tabby taught me to think that way. She's not an animal or a
machine you can turn on and off if it doesn't work the way you want
it to. The bunnies aren't, the wolves aren't, Sherri the skunk isn't.
They're people, capable of feeling and reasoning and the best proof
is they can teach. You can't keep such tight control over real
people, that's... Dear God, man, that's slavery!"
        The suit smiled patronizingly. "You're getting emotional, Mr.
Mullens. If you could think rationally for a moment, you'd see that
you were comparing apples to oranges. There are several differences
between furries and humans that exclude sentience...."
        "What is sentience?"
        The suit scowled. "Mr. Mullens...." he growled.
        "You're using sentience as the measure of whether control is
slavery. So what is sentience?"
        "The laws regardings furries are quite clear on that. They
define sentience and furries do not suit the requirements. I realize
that unions often hold themselves above the law, but most people keep
it. What makes you better than them, Mr. Mullens?"
        "The law is the will of those who make it. It is inconvenient
for furries to be sentient, so they define sentience in such a way
that furries don't qualify...."
        "I have no time for conspiracy theories...."
        "Conspiracy nothing! I'm accusing the law of prejudice, pure
and simple! And _that_," Jamie exclaimed, pointing to the monitor,
"is the bottom line! Someone you love is dieing so that her fellows
won't try again to tell the world who they are."
        The suit stared at the screen. Tabby was still staring at her
hands, shivering visibly. Her mouth worked, but with the sound off
they couldn't tell if she were saying something or panting or crying.
        "So you'd have me make an exception," said the suit, "let her
stay with the other bunnies and lead more palace revolts."
        Jamie looked from the monitor to the suit. "I'll take her
away," he said, at last. "She can't make trouble if she's not here."
        "Your own private bunny? How will you pay for her?"
        "You're about to scrap that one. Why should I pay for junk?"
        The suit picked up his phone. Tabby's head jerked and an arm
crossed the camera's field. "Marcus? I want you to give Tabatha the
antidote. You heard me, give it to her! And bring her to my office.
I've been given an alternative that I don't feel I can pass up."

Copyright 1995 Allan D. Burrows         (continued)
All Rights Reserved after publication