You rub your hands eagerly and explain things to your assistant.
“Right, then! We have over a thousand fluffy ponies in this lab. Starting next week, the stallions will all be gelded and the mares spayed, then we start shipping them out. We’ve already got contracts with major pet stores and several celebrities have reserved their own fluffy. We also have several corporate sponsors lined up to put these things in commercials and movies. These are going to be huge!”
You gesture at a series of cages lining the wall, filled with the genetically-engineered fluffy ponies; the culmination of years of work and the most advanced genetic research project in the world. You’re not one of the lead scientists; you’re not even on the main team of genetic engineers or behavioral researchers. You’re just a biologist with degress in zoology and veterinary medicine on the side; but these are YOUR animals! You’re responsible for them, and you stand to do very well indeed once they start hitting the market. Your delicate-looking, petite assistant dutifully nods as you point out the cages.
“These animals- er, biotoys- are the ones specially bred to resemble characters on the tv show. Each will be permanently tattooed with a ‘cutie mark’ that shows through the fur. We estimate these will sell for around $5,000, and the other, ‘generic’ fluffy ponies will sell for about $1,000. Every kid in the country is going to want a fluffy for Christmas, and those weird creeps who obsess over cartoons for little girls have more than enough disposable cash to buy at least one. These things are going to recoup the expenses of all our research and development in the first month of sales. Do you have any idea what a huge achievement this is? We’ve not only created a unique species from scratch, we gave it human speech AND programmed specific behavior and even language into its mind! The sales alone are going to be fantastically profitable, but do you realize what a giant leap this is going to create in science and technology? The lead development team is getting a Nobel Prize for sure! And we’ll be riding their coattails, all the way to the top!”
Your assistant nods patiently, used to your rambling and unnecessary exposition. You like to brag, and she provides an audience to brag to. No matter how many times you treat her like an idiot who doesn’t already know all this, she just listens patiently and then murmurs a few quiet comments about your genius and the genius of the development team who made this all possible. You make a mental note to recommend her for a pay raise; your last assistant/secretary was never this understanding or tolerant of your eccentricity.
“Doctor,” you love it when she calls you that. Nobody else ever seems to recall that you have a doctorate. “Why exactly are we sterilizing them all before we ship them out?”
“Ah,” you say, surprised she didn’t already know like she did everything else. Of course, you only just found out today, but you’d never admit that. “We do that for one of several reasons.”
“First and foremost, of course, is to protect our copyright and patent on these anim- biotoys. If Hasbio is the exclusive source for fluffy ponies, then people have to come to us to buy them. Now, we will be shipping intact animals to a handful of licensed breeders by the end of the month; having them reproduce the old-fashioned way is cheaper than the way we made the first few batches, with test tubes, artificial wombs, and all that jazz. Plus it’s healthier than cloning, we get far fewer defects that way. The fluffies are even programmed to detect flawed or otherwise undesirable foals and destroy or abandon them, saving us the effort of testing and culling each one. Being as they’re genetically engineered, the gene pool is fairly limited, and there are a few flaws in their genetics we need to eliminate. Sterilizing them prevents them from breeding until we’ve worked out all the kinks and can release the new version; all the fluffy ponies with flawed genetics will eventually die out without polluting the gene pool for the improved series, and those fluffies will replace them.”
“Plus,” you add with an air of superiority, “It just wouldn’t do if any yokel could breed two fluffy ponies and start selling the foals. It’d cut into our profits enormously, we’d lose control of the market, and the price would drop dramatically. By making Hasbio the sole source of fluffy ponies, we keep a monopoly on our product and protect the enormous investment into this project.”
“What sort of genetic flaws?” she asks, curious.
“Well, for one thing, we’re trying to work the glitches out of the ‘smarty friend’ concept. Right now they’re just a little too bossy and self-centered; we need a good source of ‘mayors’ for our Ponyville project, and ‘smarty friends’ are where we expect to breed natural leaders to run the herds.”
“Ponyville project?”
“Oh, right, you weren’t there for Thursday’s meeting. It’s that theme park thing Hasbro is doing with us; Hasbro pays to make kiddie parks all over the country where kids whose parents can’t afford to buy them a fluffy pony can come visit a bunch. They’ll all have a recreation of the town the ponies from the cartoon live in, and each will be populated by fluffy ponies that look identical to the main cast of the show. Sort of a theme park, petting zoo, sit-on-Santa’s-lap deal. Studies show the fluffy ponies function better with a leader, but since they’re programmed to fixated on their human caretakers as ‘mommy’ or ‘daddy’, they form attachments and we often have jealousy issues as the fluffy ponies jockey for position as favorite. If they’re led by a ‘smarty friend’, though, the herd has leadership and can function more or less coherently, which is necessary for their mental health and keeping them well-behaved, with none of the issues of having a human running the show. If the smarty friend fixates on a human caretaker, fine. The rest of the herd will follow the smarty friend. The problem, however, is that they haven’t gotten all the bugs out of the behavior in the smarty friend genetic code; they tend to be selfish, irritating brats. They should have it worked out before too long, though.”
She nods and makes a few notes in her tablet.
“Regardless, the first thousand animals here will be shipping out next week for final obedience training and behavioral conditioning, then they’ll be distributed to vendors and hit the markets. So we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow, getting them all fixed, grooming them, and doing blood and urine analysis to ensure they’re all healthy and happy!”
“Very good, doctor. Tomorrow is a very big day indeed.”
You wave to Rod, the night custodian, as you head for your office. He seems surprised to see another employee here this late at night. Usually it’s just him and the security guard at the front gate, and after midnight it’s just the guard. He waves back and resumes mopping the hallway.
You should be at home, just climbing into bed after a delicious supper, but you’re too excited! If you manage to get things flowing smoothly tomorrow, your supervisor is sure to notice what a diligent worker you are and talk about to you to the higher-ups. Do a good job getting the fluffy ponies prepped and shipped on time and identify any with behavioral problems before they hit the vendors, and you’re sure to move up in the company! Hasbio is poised to dominate the market and economy for the next decade, and you’re getting your foot in the door while the elevator is still on the ground floor!
So, eager to get things underway and a little nervous (though you would never admit it to anyone), you came back to work, let yourself into the lab with your key card, and are now headed to your office.
Hmm, let’s see… Yes, the paperwork is all ready for tomorrow. You already checked it three times, but everything has to be JUST right! No mistakes! Smooth, diligent work! All the staff needed for tomorrow have responded to the group memo and understand their duties and what time they’re coming in (early; you want to be as productive as possible AND give yourself wiggle room in case something delays the process of prepping all the fluffy ponies.). Good, good. There honestly isn’t anything else you can do to be better prepared for tomorrow; now you’re just a mother hen, nervously fussing over everything.
You decide to do one final inspection of the animals- biotoys, you remind yourself- in their cages before returning home. You leave your office, swipe your key card, and enter the warehouse-like space where the fluffy ponies are being housed temporarily.
Walking past cage after cage, you smile at the little balls of fuzz huddling on the wire mesh floors of their enclosures. Many are mumbling to themselves in their sleep.
“Mmmm… skettis…”
“Wub mummah… wub daddeh…”
“Huggies…”
“… dentaw pwan…”
Wait, what? You step a little closer to the fluffy pony you heard mutter something odd, listening. It just breathes softly, deep asleep. You note the serial number on its cage and write it down so you remember to double-check this one for behavioral oddities.
“Whaaa! Munsta?!”
Oops. Did you wake one up? But the fluffy pony you just heard was two rows over, how did you wake it?
Walking quickly to shush the creature before it wakes the others and creates a problem, you hear it speak again, sounding loud in the hushed, echoing room.
“Whew mista take fwuffy?”
The hell?
You round the corner and see Rod standing in front of one of the cages. The cage is open. And he’s holding a fluffy pony.
“Rod! What do you think you’re doing?! You’re not supposed to handle these anim- biotoys! This is going in my report-”
The man holding the fluffy pony turns around and you see that what you thought was Rod’s black mullet was actually a fuzzy, wool ski mask. That’s not Rod.
“Shit!”
You turn and run. You have to get to the phone, page the security guard! What is this, industrial sabotage? Espionage? A competitor stealing your products to reverse engineer their own? You have no idea who this man is, but you’ve got to get the police here!
Something bounces off your back and clatters to the floor with a metallic sound, and you fall. Before you can get back to your feet, the man has caught up, scooped up the crow bar he threw at you, and is now holding it in a threatening demeanor.
“Don’t make a sound!”
“Please don’t hurt me! I won’t cause any trouble! Who are you? What are you doing here?!”
“We’re taking these poor, defenseless animals and setting them free.”
You blink. Did you seriously just hear what you think you heard?"
“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”
“We’re taking the animals and setting them free.”
“Ok, first of all, they’re not animals, they’re artificially engineered biological toys. Not animals. Second, you can’t take them.”
He raises the crowbar.
“Yeah? Who’s gonna stop me, you?”
“No, I mean you can’t take them. They’re… infected.”
“Infected?”
“Yes. It’s extremely contagious, if you take them out of here it could spread of humans and-”
“Dude, everyone’s seen 28 Days Later. It didn’t work in the movie, and it ain’t gonna work now. Now shut the fuck up and start walking.”
You get to your feet and walk ahead of him, keeping your hands up in a gesture of surrender and not complaining whenever he jabs you in the back with the crow bar to make you walk faster. Where is he taking you?
You go through the door near the offices and see your assistant standing there.
“Mary! Run! There’s a man with-”
You can feel your eyes literally bugging out of your head as your assistant pulls a Walther PPK pistol out of her pocket and points it at you.
“Don’t move! Dammit, why are you here?!”
“M… Mary?”
Two more men and a woman, all wearing ski masks and gloves, step out of your office, one carrying your spare key card. Your crowbar-wielding assailant jabs you in the ribs and you put your hands up again.
“What… what’s going on? What are you doing?”
Your assistant, Mary, rolls her eyes and makes a disgusted sound.
“Grab his key card. You can use one to open the shipping doors, and the other to gain access to the computer room at the same time. Upload the virus, plant the explosives, and get back here, we’re gonna need all hands on deck to rescue these animals.”
“Rescue? Mary, what are you talking about?”
“Are you really that clueless? What am I saying, of course you are, mister know-it-all. We’re rescuing your corporate slaves and destroying your ability to produce more.”
“What do you mean, ‘rescue’?”
She grits her teeth and gestures with the compact pistol. You and crowbar man follow her lead and go back into the room with the fluffy ponies.
“We’re releasing them. They’re going to live free, as nature intended.”
“Nature? They’re genetically engineered! They’re about as natural as Mickey Mouse! You can’t release these animals into the wild! Don’t you remember the mink farm? They devastated the local ecosystem, killed hundreds of wild creatures and household pets, died by the dozens getting run over by cars, and they all returned to the farm to be fed! They couldn’t handle life in the wild because they’d never BEEN wild! These fluffy ponies are even worse! They’ve never been wild animals and aren’t capable of surviving in the wild! They have no defenses! They have no instincts for survival! They have no idea how to forage, or find shelter, or avoid predators, or any of that! They were never meant to live without a human caretaker in a safe, sheltered environment! If you release them, you’ll be killing them! Don’t you understand that?”
Mary gestures wildly with her pistol, which makes you a little nervous. Like most people only passingly familiar with firearms, she has poor safety discipline and waves the gun around so it points at random people and keeps her finger on the trigger; she’s more liable to shoot someone accidentally than deliberately.
“You idiot! You think I don’t know that? We’ll have to work to ensure as many of them survive as possible, but we’ll acclimate them to the wild and teach them what they need to know. They’ll survive in the wild, away from man, away from your greedy, capitalist clutches! They’ll survive just fine without being your profitable little slaves!”
Crowbar man shoves you aside to let a group of masked bandits walk by, a sleepy and confused fluffy pony under each arm. They’re headed toward the shipping doors, which are beginning to open.
Realization creeps in and you’re horrorstruck.
“Wait! You- you can’t release them into the wild! They haven’t been fixed yet!”
Mary sneers at you contemptously.
“Who cares if they fix your corporate idea of perfection? They’re fine the way they are. They don’t need you meddling with their DNA or damaged minds any more than you already have.”
“No, stupid! They haven’t been spayed or neutered! That’s supposed to start tomorrow!”
“WE KNOW! We had to move tonight, before we were ready, to prevent you monsters from mutilating them and destroying their right to procreate and survive! Information wants to be free! LIFE wants to be free!”
“You don’t understand! They breed prodigiously! You’ve seen how quickly they mature, surely you understand how quickly they would reproduce if left intact! If you release them all into the wild now, you’ll REALLY devastate the environment! Isn’t that what you people care about? They’ll be an invasive species, outbreeding native wildlife and destabilizing the ecosystem!”
Crowbar man jabs you in the ribs (you really wish he’d stop doing that) and scowls visibly under his ski mask.
“I thought you just said they couldn’t survive in the wild? So which is it, they’ll all die because they don’t know how to live without a human controlling them, or they’ll breed uncontrollably and devastate the ecosystem? It’s one or the other, asshole.”
“No, you simplistic moron! The problem is two-fold! You’ll be killing all of these fluffy ponies if you release them into the wild, but some of them will live long enough to reproduce, and some of those will live long enough to reproduce, and so on and so forth! They’ll spread and absolutely annihilate local vegetation or whatever the hell they find to eat out there that isn’t specially prepared pet food, swarming the landscape in huge numbers, and THEN they’ll die en mass! It’ll be just like places that pass laws banning deer hunting; without a regular culling of the herd, their population explodes, they devastate local vegetation, then they all starve to death because they’ve stripped the land of edible vegetation and you experience a population crash. In this case, the population crash would result in extinction. You’re fools, all of you, fools! You think you’re rescuing them? You’re stealing any chance they had of living a happy life with a loving human family, in a safe environment where they’ll be cared for and treated well, and sending them all to their deaths in a completely alien environment where danger lurks around every corner! For pete’s sake, we haven’t even fixed the problem of them drowning in their own water dishes!”
Crowbar man looks confused.
“Wait, they drown in their own water bowls? How stupid are these-”
“It doesn’t matter,” Mary says, a dangerous tone in her voice. “We’re freeing them!”
“HEY! Grab that guy!”
You turned and see two ski masked ‘animal liberators’ running across the lab floor toward Rod, who has just walked through the door and dropped his mop. He runs back through the door and a few seconds later you hear the fire alarm go off. He reached the pull station! The alarm signal will automatically go out to the fire station, and the security guard will get the notice and come investigate. Help is on the way! Good ol’ Rod!
Mary, on the other hand, is less than please.
“Shit! We’ve got less than half the animals out! Screw it, load the ones we’ve got into the trucks. Open all the rest of the cages and start stampeding the ponies out the doors! They’ll just have to make it on their own! Forget the computer virus, just set the explosives and let’s get out of here!”
Then she turns and glares at you.
“As for you…”
Before you can react, she knees you in the groin, hard. You drop to your knees, dizzy and in the worst pain of your life. Then she surprises you by kissing your forehead before running off to join her comrades in opening cages and shooing the fluffy ponies within toward the door.
You’re not sure, but you think you’re in love.
The news reports have been coming in relentlessly. Of the 1,000 fluffies in the lab, 840 were ‘released’. The rest died in the explosions when the bombs went off, or from smoke inhalation in the subsequent fire that consumed most of the building. You, Rod, and the security guard, having opposable thumbs and common sense, fled the building while the fluffy ponies milled around in panic until the building came down on them. The damage to the lab and the fluffy ponies wasn’t all that significant; yours was one of a dozen identical facilities all across the country. The rest are intact and pressing forward to the official release date of the product.
Of the 840 released biotoys, roughly 300 were taken by the masked bandits, a coalition of PETA, ALF, Greenpeace, Earth First, and other eco-terrorists/activists. Many of these animals were recovered when federal investigators located the criminals and arrested them, but some had already been released into the wild. Mary, having been identified by you as one of the participants, was among the first to be arrested. You’ve been writing her letters in prison and recently have begun conjugal visits.
Of the 540 that were simply herded out of the lab, most were still milling around the parking lot and immediate area, confused and terrified. They eagerly ran to the nearest human for help and were recovered by Hasbio. Dozens of others spilled onto the roads and were splattered all over the pavement, having no understanding of the dangers of traffic. Still others were found in parks and the wooded area near the lab, starving and desperate. Many were picked off by predators.
But some… Some survive. They find ways to live in the wild, without human caretakers, and reproduce. Their children grow up in the wild, without human contact, and adapt a little more easily than their parents. Some of them survive to have children of their own.
And the rest, as they say, is history.
