Porn & Revolution in the Peaceable Kingdom

by Micaela Morrissette

  Yet as the day wore on, everything seemed darker, not just the lights. The noises of the shoppers boomed yawningly down from the void of the ceiling, struck the floor with a crunch, and came creeping back, crippled and wordless, from the cracks in the displays, the vacant spaces in the shelves, like the distorted voices of nightmare. Tim stocked product as quickly as he could to muffle the shadowy echoes, and hummed his way through the discordant hours.

  At the end of the day, clocking out, amidst the hubbub of twisted tongues, Tim heard Edwina and Nestor, at it again.

  “This is your idea of a joke,” stated Nestor in his dead tones. “Or what. This is not your idea of keeping your job. Turning down the lights. Making everything look like shit. Or you have a problem with our photosynthetic friends. Tell me, because I’m at a loss.”

  “Oh, right,” said Edwina, trembling with rage. “Of course it’s me. Because I’m the capitalist mastermind here. Because I’m the invisible hand of the markets!”

  “Maybe you fancy yourself an energy activist, yes,” proposed Nestor. “Maybe you think you’re being paid to carry out some kind of extremist waveform-rights agenda here at Wal-Mart Corporations Universal.”

  “Screw you and your pathetic conspiracy theories,” spat Edwina, seething. “Screw you and your petty overlord bullshit.”

  “You know that one of our customers experienced a seizure due to the lack of ambient light this afternoon,” said Nestor. “One of our most valued customers, a longtime sleeper, really almost a mascot for many patrons of the store. A bacterial conglomerate who depends on a certain level of illumination to survive. A lovely lady, whose glow we fed entirely free of charge. Now collapsed, seizure, hospital, prognosis grave. You know we’re looking at a lawsuit here. That’s your agenda? You think you’ll throw this company to the litigation machine? You think one machine will eat another machine? That’s your symbolic victory, at the expense of an animal life?”

  Nestor was, for the first time since Tim had known him, losing his cool. But then again, Tim realized slowly and as if from a great distance, he himself was losing it also. Oh, Sunny, he thought. What have I done?

  Edwina, throwing back her head to retort, spine bristling, saw Tim crouched and colorless by the time clock. She looked at him for maybe a half second longer than Tim thought he could bear. Then she returned her attention to Nestor.

  “Yeah, shit,” said Edwina. “I’m really sorry to hear that. You know, I was just trying to save the company some money. I felt pretty bad about our argument this morning, and I wanted to do something a little above and beyond to reinstate my loyalty as an employee. I’m sorry, Nestor.” She glanced up at Tim again, for just an instant this time. “Plus also, maybe I did think it would help the sleepers, to have things a little darker, a little calmer in here. I had no idea anyone was going to get hurt. I guess I just wanted to make a gesture toward them, a reconciliation, after the unfortunate event of earlier. I totally misjudged the situation. I regret turning down the lights. Whatever the company has to do, I understand. I have to clock out now, I have no overtime approved.”

  Nestor stepped aside curtly, without replying, and Edwina began her march toward the time clock.

  Tim turned his back. He went into the HR office and took all his personal days: two weeks. He grabbed his coat and bag from his locker and was out through the suction tubes before Edwina had a chance to find him.

  * * *

  Tim booked spots for himself and Mimi on a package tour to Tanzania. First, though, he took her to the vet to be tested for pregnancy. The results were negative, but the vet did suggest a contraceptive.

  “It’s very easy,” he said. “Just a small insertion under the skin, quite painless, and she can romp around as much as her randy little heart desires.”

  But Tim refused. If pregnancy remained a possibility, he figured he’d have good reason to keep Mimi housebound at all times, out of reach of any unfixed vagrant humans. Maybe, he thought, with vague benevolence, a weekly playdate with the vasectomized Yoyo could be arranged, under his strict supervision.

  “Up to you,” said the vet. “But I should also let you know—and this is really just speculative at the moment, no official confirmation, but better safe than sorry—that there are reports of an extremist contingent of viruses living off grid, hostile to the continued presence of humans among us, to what they call the sleeping threat of humankind as well as to the cost to animal society of caring for humans that have been abandoned or are injured or elderly. These viral factions are said to have renounced their mandate for noninfection, and to have begun invading humans through sexual contact. Herpes simplex is rumored to be among the terrorists, as well as hepatitis and even HIV.”

  “Herpes?” said Tim. “I thought they were one of the extinct species we were unable to resurrect.”

  “It seems a few remaining colonies may have formed underground cells, in time attracting others to them. As I say, there’s no rock-solid confirmation right now. But we do have vaccines, synthetic for herpes and composed of volunteer viruses for the other strains, and if Mimi is promiscuous, then I must recommend—”

  But Tim wasn’t interested. After the disaster with Sunny, it was hard for him to even pay attention to this kind of complex issue. Or to care. “My insurance won’t cover it,” he said. “I’ll keep her inside.”

  And Mimi nodded vigorously. Tim could see that the whole idea of hosting a vaccinating hive inside her little body totally freaked her out.

  * * *

  In Tanzania, Mimi rejoiced and Tim relaxed. They went to see the trailer parks of nomadic human tribes still living in RVs in the safari park, practicing their native customs. Bristling with piercings and mohawks, they welcomed the animal tourists into their ceremonial fire dances, during which they shot aerosol flames ten feet into the air and then huffed the aerosol fumes from contraband plastic bags that they’d squirreled away for generations. Mimi screamed with laughter and hooted derisively at their savagery, but Tim saw her approach one of the tribesmen and lick his arm before rubbing it against hers, trying to blacken her skin like his own. Gently, Tim led her away, giving the puzzled tribesman one of the gumdrops provided by the tour guide to hand out as treats.

  They went to the bathhouse and received deep-tissue rubdowns from the elephant masseurs, followed by exhilarating spraydowns and then a pounding under the gigantic cataract of mineral-infused warm mud. Human ownership was much rarer here than in Tim’s own country, and he had worried that he might not be able to take Mimi along to all the attractions, but several of the other travelers on his tour had their humans with them as well; and anyway, the Tanzanian animals doted on her, cooing and clucking and praising her long hair and the tender soles of her feet.

  They went to the huge open-air market where they could bet at rooster boxing rings or try to win prizes at booths run by buzzard buskers. There was a giant termite maze in which they were lost for quite a long time, and an ancient, withered manta ray in a cloudy tank told their futures. Tim was going to travel in space, she promised, and Mimi would see something that nobody alive, human or animal, had ever seen before. The market specialized in cryptomeat, something Tim had never tried: kabobs of minotaur, twice-fried unicorn, a sweet, thick chupacabra stew. One of the stalls sold synthetic human meat, which upset Tim very much. But Mimi begged to try it, so at length he gave in. Once she had tasted it, she didn’t like it, so he ate it for her, and found it delicious: light and flaky and seasoned with lemon and honey and dill.

  And their hotel was wonderful. The lobby had a 4D arcade where Mimi could amuse herself for hours while Tim browsed the fossil displays showing animals in all their evolutionary stages, or rested in an easy chair shopping for souvenirs on a complimentary compy preloaded with his personalized consumer data. In the mornings a humancare provider came to collect Mimi and take her for a run on the beach and a dolphin-supervised swim in the miniocean with the other guests’ humans. Alone for an hour, Tim had café au lait and tangy, spong
y flatbread on the balcony.

  At those times, he could grow a little depressed. He was not disloyal enough to try to avoid thoughts of Sunny, but he was surprised by how little her image haunted him. Tim had to admit that he didn’t really miss her. Anyway, he understood that whether she had died or not, he might never know, and either way, he’d certainly never see her again. But the grief of her absence could be quite overwhelming. It wasn’t her he was obsessed by, somehow, so much as the devastation he was feeling now that she’d gone.

  But then Mimi would come back and cover him with kisses and Tim would feel that his empty space had been plugged, however imperfectly.

  * * *

  They got back home from the airport late at night and fatigued: Mimi whiny, Tim grouchy, encumbered by the weight of four additional bags of souvenirs and oppressed by the stale smell of the closed-up house. He zapped some tater tots and corn dogs for their dinner and put Mimi to bed without a tooth brushing, not forgetting to close the new human-proof lock he’d installed on her window. This is the new routine, he reminded himself. This is our safe haven. Kissing her forehead, her lips, and her two cheeks softly, he closed the door.

  Done in, and distracted by the new routine, he forgot the most important part of the old routine: the bolting of the front door. He had trouble falling asleep, maybe because of the jet lag, or perhaps because he was subconsciously waiting and listening. In the early hours of the morning, it came: the squeak of the hinges, the groaning of the floorboards, the whisper in the dark, the excited murmuring. Tim was not shocked or upset. He felt grim; he felt decisive. Silently, he took from his suitcase the thing he had bought in Tanzania, the thing that was not approved as humane here in his own country. He crept down the hall and eased open Mimi’s door without clicking on the light. The wild male had her in his embrace, standing there holding her, kissing her eyelids, her hair, and her mouth.

  “Out!” roared Tim. He extended a flagellating bulge with whiplike power, and it struck the male on the side of the face. The intruder wheeled around, whimpered, then menaced.

  Mimi hissed at the male and gave him a push. He hesitated, then shoved past Tim and ran down the hall and out of the house. Mimi cowered.

  “It’s all right,” said Tim. “Don’t be afraid. Come here for a minute. Give me your hands.”

  Around her wrists and her throat he clicked the three metallic bands. The neckpiece that would shock her if she tried to leave the house through any door or window. The bracelets that would do the same if they detected the pheromones of any other human.

  She tugged at them uncomfortably. “I hate these,” she said. “Tim, what is this? They’re ugly. They feel bad.”

  “They’re just for training, sweetheart,” said Tim. “You won’t need them forever. And in the meantime, you’ll get used to them quickly. If you don’t do anything wrong—and you know what I mean—they won’t hurt you.”

  Mimi stared at him. She started crying.

  “No tears. They react to that, too,” said Tim, and said good night, leaving her bedroom door open.

  He locked the front door and went back to bed. He felt a little guilty about the lie he’d told at the end, but also incredibly sleepy in a way that, he realized, he hadn’t experienced for months. Which was a shame, since he had just two hours to rest before getting up for work. He filled them with bad dreams, but he slept all the same.

  * * *

  Edwina was glad to see him back. She cornered him in frozen foods and gave him a heartfelt nuzzle.

  “Hey!” she said. “Slacker! Vacation time, I heard. Nice work if you can get it! And now, back from celestial heights to the depths of the seventh circle. Tim, Tim, how quickly we fall.”

  “Hey,” said Tim, uneasily.

  “Where’ve you been?” pressed Edwina enthusiastically. “What’d you do?”

  “I went to Tanzania,” Tim allowed. “Touristy stuff. You know. I had to use my days.”

  “Cool! Very cool! Did you have fun? Did you bring me a souvenir?”

  “Oh,” said Tim. “Yeah, it was good. Yeah, I mean, I did, but I forgot it at home. I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

  “Right,” said Edwina, amused. “I’m excited for that.”

  She gave Tim some close scrutiny. He stared at his price checker and tested the button, beeping out a one-note song.

  “So, Tim,” she said, still cheerful but quieter. “I just wanted to let you know that that bacterial mind, the one you liked, she’s doing okay. She’s out of the hospital, she’s awake, she’s getting her life back together.”

  “Um,” said Tim. “Great, that’s nice to hear. I didn’t really like her, but—”

  “Tim,” said Edwina, “come on. We’re friends. It’s okay. Nestor told me about her recovery when he had to explain that the higher-ups decided not to fire me. Kind of a letdown, actually. For me and him both. But I hope you realize that that whole thing—it’s totally fine. I know I kind of took some flack for you there, but I just did it to piss Nestor off. No way that you need to feel that you’re under any kind of obligation. Or that I’m in any way upset. Everything worked out! And even if it didn’t, it still would’ve. You know what I mean?”

  “Yes,” said Tim. “I appreciate it.”

  “You don’t need to appreciate it! But I appreciate that you do!”

  “Good to be back,” said Tim. He played his little song again. “I should probably getting cracking.” He smiled wanly. “Back in the swing of things.”

  “Attaboy!” said Edwina. She dealt a playful punch to his midsection. “See you on break?”

  “You bet,” said Tim.

  Tim roamed the aisles furtively, avoiding Nestor and his coworkers, poking irritable dimples into bags and wiping smudges across the frosty glass doors of the coolers. He followed a few sleepers, but nothing they took from the shelves appealed to him. One of them, a petite, knock-kneed horse with delicate, quivering ears, seemed a little special, so he placed a pretty red enameled brush in her cart, and waited to see how it felt. He followed the horse for a couple more minutes, then took the brush out and hid it in his bulges. He watched her wobble away. Tim removed the brush and put it on top of a vitapaste display. The sound system dinged three times. It was time for his employee group to go on break. He went to find Edwina.

  * * *

  Mimi was not adjusting to celibacy in the way that Tim had hoped. She was not growing calm and mature. Instead, she had taken to pleasuring herself with a frenzy that deeply disturbed him. Perhaps if her autoerotics had occurred in the bathroom, or in bed under cover of night, he could have accepted that as a positive compromise to intercourse, but she fingered herself at every opportunity: lazily, almost unconsciously, while watching her movies; bored and impatient while waiting to be fed; dreamily in the bath, scooched down under the spigot, her eyes closed. She rubbed herself on cushions, rocked against the countertops, ground herself against the carpet. One night, listening to Tim read from a history of ursine inventions, she even enfolded one of his nodules between her legs and began squeezing it slowly with her thighs while she sucked on a strand of her hair. He slapped his hand against her neckpiece, activating the shocker, and her body wrenched. But, to his horror, she didn’t let go. In fact, she clenched tighter, and then, smiling up at him with malevolent pleasure, began tapping her finger against the button of the band around her wrist, setting off a series of little light electrocutions that grew quicker until the intervals between them were almost imperceptible, like a stuttering purr. Her hair rose in a static cloud. She grinned.

  Tim hurled her off him, onto the floor, and ran to his room. He slammed the door and threw himself on his bed, plunging his face deep in the cool electrolyte fluid.

  * * *

  Edwina asked Tim to have a drink after work.

  “What?” said Tim. “Oh, thanks. I don’t think I can, though. I have to get home. Mimi’s going to be hungry and bored.”

  Edwina protested. “Seriously, Tim? She’s a human. I think she c
an take care of herself for a couple of hours.”

  Tim had to admit that that seemed to be the case.

  They went to Menagerie, a loud, dark dive with bars on the windows and peanut shells all over the floor. For a while, they talked shit about Nestor. That took two beers each. Tim told Edwina what he’d learned from the vet, the rumors about the antihuman viral colonies. Predictably, Edwina was intrigued.

  “That’s terrible!” she said. “But it’s also amazing. A real resistance movement, glory be. Now if they could turn against the systems that are oppressing them, and not the lowest victims of those systems, we might really have something.”

  “Do you really think the humans are the victims here?” asked Tim. “I’m serious. They do nothing, and have everything. What if they’re really still in charge? What if everything worked out exactly the way they wanted it to? What if we’re just following some massively complex and subtle protocol that they set in motion millennia ago? Maybe they’re not even aware anymore that they’re the gods in this universe. Or worse, maybe they’re completely cognizant of it.”

  Edwina bared her teeth in feral delight. “Oh, my,” she said. “Timtimtim. My labors have not been in vain. Another drink?”

  He bought the next round. He told Edwina about his date with Hannah.

  “Jeez,” said Edwina. “Well, yeah, that’s a heavy load to lay on a guy. Maybe not ideal dinner conversation. Although, you got to hand it to her, she wasn’t playing games. Still, she had no game. Ultimately, just not sexy.”

  “Sexy?” said Tim. “Who cares about sexy? My species is so far away from giving a shit about sexy they didn’t even have to bother to neuter our DNA when we all went clonic. We were fine, just as we were.”