Superspecies III

Chapter 1

Intinman walked up on stage and planted himself firmly in front of the po

dium preparing to single-handedly take on an army. He became aware of his heel
s making a series of deep, vibrant hums on the hollow stage under his feet, and of
the hot, impatient breath all around him. He reached one hand up to the microph
one and bent the moveable arm in the direction of this mouth. His first impressio
n that of being about to make another speech that wouldn’t reach anyone where i
t really mattered; clearing his throat sharply. Out of the corner of his eye, on the f
ar left side of the audience, he caught a glimpse of Matte Spenser dressed in a lon
g beige overcoat with a gray silk scarf tied around her neck. She looked like a sle
ek business executive from the east coast. He was surprised, and pleased, to see
her in the audience and smiled at her and she smiled back. In her smile, Intinma
n believed he saw appreciation for the first time.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, for those of you who don’t know me already, I’m M
orey Intinman, discoverer and originator of the Superspecies theory going back a
bout fifteen years now after completing my research on a small, isolated group of
highly developed sun bears in South America...”
Instantly he was cut short by a chorus of “boos” and shouts of “man-hater”,
“quack” and other, more colorful obscenities made in reference to a person’s char
acter and intellectual capacity in abundance that took several minutes to die dow
n. It even looked as if people were going to start throwing things again but this w
as quickly quelled by the presence of a group of bulky, similarly-shirted men who
appeared to be of the militant environmentalist variety. The impression made by
these men being the same as anyone who puts their life on the line for a fringe m
ovement: emplacing explosives, assaulting and killing enemies and sabotaging m
achinery and electronics. Their lives were meant to be sacrificed for the earth. T
hey were the planet’s foot soldiers and if death struck them down in the course o
f this sacred duty they would be returned to the “dust from whence they came” it
occurred to Intinman. Dangerous, he thought, hoping to god they weren’t armed;
though, he was glad at least they’d prevented the others from throwing things wit
h their imposing presence. There were about forty of them gathered in a loose wi
ng formation looking like communist guerrillas from a third world country with r
ed bandanas around their necks and forest green berets on their heads. A few of
the national guardsmen took notice of them and wondered what their presence i
n the crowd could mean.
“The bears there...” he continued tentatively, “...expressed the most unbelie
vable capacity for learning and adaptation I’d seen in any animal up to that point,
and I had already been studying wildlife for some twenty odd years. I’m very old,
now, as you can see...” This reference garnered a few laughs from both sides of th
e crowd but not the environmental militants whose faces didn’t move a muscle. A
few of them, however, shifted their weight from one leg to the other with their ar
ms crossed in a powerful gesture.
“Once I completed my research in South America–as a budding specialist i
n the study of bear habitats–I became increasingly intrigued when I began observ
ing similarly intelligent behavior in our North American bears. By intelligence I
mean the bears showed an increase in their ability to manipulate tools and object
s, to hunt and fish by overcoming the challenges of their environment, along with
an ability to cooperate effectively with other bears. Even the bears techniques fo
r self-defense improved dramatically. They were better able to devise strategies
and use the terrain to outmaneuver, confuse and evade their enemies, especially
hunters and other, larger bears. During prime hunting season, their ability to out
smart pursuers became legendary in many areas; often turning the tables on wou
ld-be predators and slaughtering them in ingenious ambushes. Less and less bea
rs were shot each year, even though the total population of bears was steadily on
the rise and hunting seasons became increasingly dangerous–for the hunters! It
was a complete reversal of the trend of the previous twenty-five years. Immediat
ely, I realized something truly amazing was happening inside the world of bears.”
“I published my initial thoughts on the Superspecies after my five-year stu
dy was completed in South America and it instantly made me the butt of many jo
kes...”
Predictably, as if by cue, this brought about an uncontrollable urge in some
members of the crowd to hail, “You’re still a joke! That’s one thing that hasn’t cha
nged!” and “You stupid quack!” But as the large group of environmental militants
shrugged restlessly and glanced at the crowd with their hard, stone stares, the jee
rs died down quickly like flames snuffed out in the dust.
“...I imagine it’s what Darwin must have felt when he published his On The
Origin of Species that opened him up to ridicule from all over the world and in ev
ery form imaginable. Being a pioneering biologist himself he would understand
what it means to take an unpopular view of accepted social standards; one that s
hatters the very foundations of human knowledge and understanding, leaving no
thing for the profiteers upon the status quo to do but fight back blindly for surviv
al. At first, cartoon figures were made of me with the physical features of a fat, vo
racious bear satisfying an insatiable appetite for human flesh, comedic and styliz
ed, of course, if you can imagine that. And another one in which I’m holding a cha
in attached to a large bear, with my lab coat on and wild tufts of hair coming out o
f my head, wearing a crazed expression on my face. I seem intensely absorbed in
my notes as the hungry bear feeds on the carcass of a human subject...” Expl
osions of laughter erupted in various parts of the crowd that rose up suddenly an
d died away.
“...It got so bad for me for awhile I was faced with a situation whereby I wa
s fired from my job and couldn’t find gainful employment for years. But slowly an
d gradually, as the Superspecies theory gained wider acceptance and independen
t studies were carried out by other researchers on the subject–most notably by D
r. Catrell and his team–I began to regain my reputation. It was during this time I
was hired by the EPA to head a research department into the nature of the Supers
pecies inside the frontiers of the United States. The original purpose of the proje
ct being simply to study the bears up close and report the findings to a commissi
on with the intention of adding to the general knowledge; but eventually somethi
ng happened that changed everything for us: along with the bears’ obvious capab
ilities, it became apparent they were acting in a way that was systematically aggr
essive toward human beings, presenting a problem for the federal government, n
eedless to say, who didn’t wish to be viewed as supporting any element that was
a threat to its people. As a result, the government’s policy changed gradually fro
m mere observation to control and containment and eventually extermination. I
didn’t necessarily disagree with it at the time because I was solely concerned wit
h my own safety and the safety of
others around me; until I discovered through further studies that they weren’t ac
ting violently, in general terms, as I would’ve expected–meaning they weren’t atta
cking any other creatures in the forest–just human beings. This created a proble
m for me: I had to wonder who was responsible for creating the situation in the fi
rst place–human beings or animals? If the animals were simply reacting to man’s
violent behavior and habitat encroachment, wouldn’t it be reasonable for them to
act in their own self-defense and attack us?”
He glared into the crowd as though ready to take on any and all comers ov
er this critical point–and, truth is, he was. Most of them drew back in mortal terr
or.
“Like the indigenous peoples of this land who at one time had no right to d
efend themselves against the myriad of injustices and outrages of the most abomi
nable kind–defending themselves nobly and courageously nevertheless–the Supe
rspecies is manifesting a violent species streak only because it’s suffering under t
he extreme duress of human subjugation. Any creature with an awareness of its s
ituation will fight back given such circumstances and rightly should. Let’s face it;
just as the Indians had a right to defend their own lives (though at the time it was
believed they didn’t), the Superspecies, after being exposed to extraordinary for
ms of terrorization, brutality and extermination at the hands of people, is correct
in acting in its own self-defense.”
The crowd was subdued and there were very few taunts now; only a coupl
e of faint murmurings toward the front. He stared at them, pugnaciously, and the
y, in turn, gazed back at him in fear and shame. Intinman was aware of having an
ace in the hole during the entire process: you can kill a man for speaking the trut
h but you can’t kill the truth once it’s been spoken. Truth doesn’t disappear simpl
y because you want it to, and it doesn’t serve anyone that doesn’t make it their all
y; otherwise it’s a formidable enemy. All that can be accomplished by denying th
e truth is making the speaker into a pariah–into Ibsen’s “enemy of the people”–th
at is all and that is nothing.
“You must admit, when you glance back at our history, the human record i
sn’t exactly a shining example of love and respect for one other or a strong commi
tment to putting high moral principles, above all else, into practice,” Intinman go
aded the audience to see if he might be able to lure their hypocrisy out in the ope
n by stating it clearly and confronting it in words if in no other way. At the same t
ime, he wondered how he would ever succeed at convincing people like this: peo
ple accustomed to self-deception as a way of life, a means of survival and an auto
matic process for preserving mental equilibrium.
“Human beings not only have a long history of injustice toward other anim
als, killing off many worthy and incredible species along the way, but also other h
uman beings. History offers an almost unlimited supply of injustices committed
by people against other people, which begs the question: if human intelligence is
such a blessed and a wonderful thing, why is it so often used for destructive purp
oses upon itself? But let’s forget history for just a moment! There are dozens of
examples of human injustice going on around us today. Jack London once wrote i
n The Road that, “...the chief distinguishing trait between man and other animals i
s that man is the only animal that maltreats the females of his kind,” shedding lig
ht on one. Adding, that this “...is something of which no wolf or cowardly coyote i
s ever guilty.” Later, he broadened this statement by making the damning indictm
ent, “...man has lost most of his wild instincts—at least, most of the good ones.” “T
o which I’d hasten to add...,” Intinman ventured before the sea of faces, “...have we,
perhaps, lost all of our good instincts in becoming “intelligent” creatures, as we p
ride ourselves, or did we simply go astray somewhere along the line? Mind you, t
he Superspecies is perceiving us as we actually are, not as we’d like to think of ou
rselves and they are far from being mistaken in their assessment–remember that!
Their understanding of the danger we pose is completely correct,” Intinman said
in a voice sounding coarse and urgent. “Just imagine what’s going on behind thos
e towering gates now as I stand here before you: genocide.”
He began trembling like a violent epileptic at the podium, feeling weary an
d lightheaded, aiming one stiff, accusing finger in the direction of the park’s gates.
The faces in the crowd withdrew in horror when he uttered the word “genocide”
without attempting to conceal its meaning in the standard euphemistic decorum
of the day. People seemed burdened with shame as if someone had revealed a pe
rsonally embarrassing secret about each one of them and they tried hiding their f
aces from general view. Even the militant environmentalists lowered their eyes a
nd cast guilty glances all around them while opponents of the Superspecies stood
looking mostly long-faced and silent, absorbing each blow like an array of battere
d punching bags. They knew they should protest, insult or mock, but for some re
ason they didn’t have the heart at the moment.
Reporters standing below the podium listened closely as they tried captur
ing a general outline of what was being said, all the while concocting the right do
se of spin on the events in order to grab the public’s attention and sell the greates
t body of newspapers; emblematic of the noble trade of journalism. Intinman did
n’t find out until later just how “general” the outline was until he read the next m
orning’s paper.
The news cameras moved in for a close up on his sweaty face as he uttered
the phrase “genocide” red and puffy with heated emotion. The candid shot made
him look like a raving lunatic, spitting fire, as it were; a precious gem that could b
e used over and over again to great “effect” devoid of context or explanation.
“What’s going on inside those gates...” he uttered in a voice choked with irr
epressible emotions, “...is nothing short of pure extermination, about which I will
fully explain to you in graphic detail...because, you see, I used to work for the exec
utioners at the EPA. I know from first-hand experience what goes on behind the
scenes and I’d be more than happy to tell you everything you need to know about
how these animals are ruthlessly eliminated. It will help ease my conscience, whi
ch has been tortured by thoughts of how history will judge me by showing I’m at l
east partly responsible for the destruction of these, the most fascinating creature
s on earth. I announced their presence to the world and initially supported their
destruction, and because of my discovery and subsequent errors in judgment, the
y may someday be extinct.”
“Let me just preface by saying it’s my belief that any creature which can en
tertain the idea of annihilating another class of beings in a coldly calculated and e
fficient manner, even a creature not of its own kind, has abandoned all morality a
nd reason and probably harbors serious mental disturbances as well. If our celeb
rated human intelligence leads to nothing but willful destruction, I say chuck it ov
erboard; it is dead weight. What good is it if it doesn’t better the lot of humanity–
both spiritually and physically (instead, often worsening it!)–and improve the hu
man condition in general?”
“We, as a race, must stop using our intellectual abilities for morbid and da
ngerous incursions into evil, attempting to control and dominate nature and othe
r human beings in the process. Will we never learn that nature cannot and shoul
d not be controlled? We may look down on other animals for being “unintelligen
t” in many ways, but they certainly aren’t committing systematic outrages against
one another or enslaving their own kind as we do, then using clever tricks of the
mind to justify it all; the self-proclaimed “moral” race. And they aren’t trying to c
hange the course of nature while, at the same time, flirting with disastrous conse
quences for the future. This fact alone serves as a gigantic black stain on the so-c
alled blessing of human intelligence. Begging the question: if it’s such a great thi
ng why does it cause us so much pain and devastation overall? The obvious and
unfortunate answer is that we aren’t using “intelligence” properly or simply aren’
t using it for its most beneficial purpose. Our collective consciousness seems to b
e incapable of preventing the society from heading down all the wrong paths.”
He paused for a moment to let the words sink in. He could see some of the
opponents of the Superspecies staring at him maliciously. He didn’t care. He was
going all the way this time and wasn’t overly concerned with the consequences.
At some point, he thought, fear hasn’t any significance, it’s a mere minuscule cons
ideration on the way to a higher purpose. He felt that way now as he stood up the
re, alone, attacking the foundations of generations of misguided thinking.
“Let me give you an example...” he stated pointedly, leaning over the top of
the podium like a biblical orator now. He felt he needed to establish rapport with
the crowd in some way–intellectually–if no other. “We consider ourselves the mo
st civilized creatures on earth. We are cleaner, more clever, we have the widest va
riety of choices in what we eat, where we sleep and how many creature comforts
we possess in our daily lives, so, in a certain sense, we are “civilized”. But, in anot
her sense, we are guilty of causing the most misery and destruction on the planet.
We do not hunt and kill one another for food or protection, necessarily, but for c
onquest and ideology; intellectual “inventions”, if you will. A glaring example of t
he enormous pitfalls of placing so much importance on the “mind” and “intellectu
al thinking” in our lives; above life itself in many cases. I ask you, if the nature of
our thinking, morality and idealism is making such a mess of our lives and the wo
rld we live in, what good is it? Chuck it out! By the very claims laid deep within t
he foundations of our society we are taught to believe that human intelligence an
d innovation are bound to increase the benefits and pleasures in our daily lives.
But what about the pitfalls? What about the enormous problems? How can we s
it back in horror and indignation when some creature of the wild kills another be
ing, brutally and savagely, for what we consider some small grain of food or territ
ory, or self-defense, while we sit in clean, stuffy, air-conditioned chambers talking
casually about how practical it is to kill hundreds, thousands, millions of our own
kind, not for food or protection, but for something even less vital: religious prefer
ences, political gain or a healthy economy–perversions of our minds, all; is life les
s important than these things? The wild animal is barbarous in a certain sense b
ut at least it has a necessary purpose in mind. Its actions are justifiable and make
sense even by our own standard of reckoning: it is killing to survive and defendin
g its existence. Humankind, on the other hand, seems bent on destruction for its
own sake or for cleverly conceived intellectual trends, philosophies and “liberatin
g” ideologies that never seem to make good on their promises.
 “Our cleverness has prompted us to create weapons of mass destruction c
apable of killing millions of people and leading to an environmental “time bomb”
that will leave behind an uninhabitable planet for an indefinite period of time. Ye
t, we’ve grown complacent with the fact that this is the price of a free reign for in
novation and intelligence. Meanwhile, men in clean white lab coats and heads so
sharp they end in points at the top of their skulls sit in government laboratories d
eveloping the next generation of military weaponry while charts, graphs, nifty ma
thematical formulas and impressive volumes of theoretical nonsense support the
validity of their work and conceal the enormous barbarism that lies beneath it al
l.”
“However, I didn’t come here to preach the gospel of non-violence and disa
rming the nations of the world. Human intelligence will stand in the way of that,
I’m sure. That’s the life’s work of others and I respectfully leave it to them. I am a
biologist who sees things primarily from the perspective of evolution and devolut
ion, whatever the case may be, and it’s debatable what stage humankind is in at p
resent. It seems intent on walking a tightrope between the two. An equal amoun
t of creation goes on for every measure of destruction in the world, ending quite
possibly with ultimate destruction; unless, of course, by some miracle, whatever’
s amiss with human intelligence is finally corrected.”
“Suffice it to say, from my own perspective, that the machinery of the hum
an intelligence has become too complicated. It is so completely bogged down in a
quagmire of theoretical intricacies, hypocrisy, deception, half-truths, evasions, ext
enuating circumstances, expediencies, exceptions, compromises and contradictio
ns that the very complexity of the machinery makes it come crashing down under
its own weight.”
“If the solution to any problem becomes so complicated that it’s easier to s
crap the entire structure and start over again with a more elegant and effective st
rategy that more directly addresses the problem, it is pure stubbornness and stu
pidity not to do so. Thinking mired in contradiction totters uneasily on the shifti
ness of its own faulty foundation and the precarious position exists in a constant
state of flux and imbalance. Nothing good comes from such a state of imbalance a
nd to continue trying to reform, revamp, or employ “corrective measures” on wha
t amounts to an overly complex, ineffective and hypocritical system is pure folly.”
“This is a new era my friends; the era of the Superspecies! Are we going to
stand up and face the future or try to halt the march of progress? Progress is the
founding principle of our civilization and it’s sad to find out there are so many pe
ople who wish to stand in its way. Perhaps, when it’s not our own, but belongs to
another creature whose time has come, there are enough people around who find
the situation simply intolerable that they must do whatever it takes to stop it. Bu
t keep in mind, it’s not simply economic progress, political ideology or the advanc
ement of one set of religious beliefs over another that’s at stake here, but somethi
ng much deeper: evolutionary progress. And the type of evolutionary progress w
e face demands not only that human beings make allowances for another intellige
nt creature’s existence on earth, but that we learn to reexamine ourselves throug
h the eyes of the developing creature.”
Intinman paused to catch his breath. He’d allowed excitement overtake hi
m and, during the pause, he realized he was sweating profusely. He gathered his
composure as best he could and mopped up his brow with a towel offered to him
by one of the local officials below the stage. The crowd stared at him with faces u
pturned to the magnificent, glistening figure before them; mouths hanging open a
nd practically drooling; anxiously awaiting the next wave of scandalous remarks t
o descend from the stage. Some were infuriated with him and others, fascinated,
while others considered his remarks funny with no other value than the fact they
were shocking enough to make people stand around staring into space; looking fa
irly silly, too.
“Now I’m going to tell you what human intelligence is capable of when it’s
allowed free reign to do whatever it wants, and this time I won’t be talking about
man’s inhumanity toward man, but the Superspecies. I warn you, though, I’m not
going to hold anything back. I give you nothing but the naked, horrible truth.”
He stared at them with eyes that were a glaring mixture of pain and sadne
ss and suddenly it didn’t matter whether they accepted him or not. The only thin
g that did were the animals and the visions of his past, not so long ago, returned;
but also the mysterious process of how his focus had shifted from scientific butch
er to savior.
“I worked for the EPA for over fifteen years and during that time I’ve seen
a lot of things I don’t care to remember. At one time, I was like many of you here;
I thought the only solution to the Superspecies problem was extermination and e
ven though I’d discovered the creatures myself, I was truly shocked when they be
gan displaying such aggressive tendencies toward human beings and was afraid o
f them. Especially since I was in close contact with them. I believed something h
ad gone wrong somewhere in their development and the creatures were simply
monsters; a freak accident of evolution that turned them into bloodthirsty beasts.
That was before I discovered that their violent streak was directed solely at peopl
e and no other animal, among other bears they had actually become less aggressi
ve and more cooperative. Even the grizzly bear’s notorious bad temperament sh
owed less of its characteristic explosive anger when approached by other animals
and their attitude seemed to be more social; less territorial and bullying. Though
still protective of their territory and vital food sources, the bears allowed wolves,
deer and foxes within close range of them and permitted regular access to their f
eeding grounds.”
“Once I discovered this and became familiar with Dr. Catrell’s behavioral r
esearch on the Superspecies, I was convinced the problem lay solely in their inter
actions with humans but, by that time, it had become the federal government’s p
olicy to carry out a secret plan of extermination on them while the public still had
very little knowledge of the creatures. The idea at the time was to secretly exter
minate all the bears in “critical” locations and blame it on some unknown disease
that would be invented later to explain the massive numbers of deaths. A parasit
e or something would do nicely. A string of wildfires would then be used to cover
up any wrongdoing. I was there when the Secretary of the EPA assured the other
cabinet ministers that he would come up with a solution highly convincing and u
ntraceable.”
“Fortunately for them, the public had been wholly disinterested in the new
species up to that point from the tiny little stories printed in newspapers and ma
gazines, and without a majority of the biology community accepting the theory as
valid it wasn’t much of a story, anyway. But, of course, the EPA managed to keep
most information out of the public eye until they could be sure of what they had.
A belief that the animals could be contained or destroyed before the public beca
me widely aware of them was uppermost in their minds. Then the theory could b
e abandoned and the problem solved, right?” “Not exactly,” he said answering his
own question with a face that took on a brief wolfish countenance and a voice tha
t rose to a bellowing crescendo; while his eyes darted to-and-fro without moving
his face. “It didn’t quite work out that way,” he added, belaboring the point. “Firs
t of all, when the EPA began it’s extermination program over fifteen years ago, it
was almost completely ineffective. There were accidents resulting in death, delay
s in getting equipment and sometimes no equipment at all.
Frequently, faulty and inadequate machinery was used and occasionally material
s completely unsuited to the task; not to mention the fact that the bears outsmart
ed the hunters on a regular basis as we honed our methods. We still had to adjus
t to how smart these animals were. They weren’t about to walk into a trap any fo
x or raccoon would be lured into. So, for awhile, we simply weren’t up to the task.
Our hunters even found the bears harder to track because they would hide up in t
he high country in caves or steep patches of forest as soon as they became aware
to our presence.”
“After years of secret failure and embarrassment on the EPA’s part they de
cided to consult the military to help them solve the problem of mass exterminatio
n. The military was only too glad to lend its expertise on the project and with it’s
assistance the EPA adopted the use of chemical and biological agents that were ta
ilored to attack the bears’ specific biology. An unfortunate consequence of the pr
ogram, it was soon discovered, was that if the bears were exterminated by biologi
cal and chemical weapons, all the other animals would be in some way affected to
o. In the end, though, this was determined to be an acceptable side-effect, accord
ing to the Secretary, and we went full ahead with the new and improved program
starting in the fall of 1989...”
It wasn’t long before the EPA was ready to launch its new program with a f
resh arsenal of devices: traps were updated, hunters were given more sophisticat
ed firepower and, thanks to the military, an array of chemical and biological weap
ons were added to the mix to insure the complete annihilation of everything in th
e forest. The selected chemical weapons had the effect of collapsing the lungs an
d eroding the spinal column of any and all vertebrates in the area and the biologic
al weapons attacked the central nervous system. Death was slow and agonizing f
or the afflicted animals, needless to say, and the men hunting the remaining bears,
not yet dead, had to wear full gas masks and respirators as they tramped throug
h the forest past a variety of toxins dumped from helicopters overhead. Meanwhi
le, people living in the vicinity were evacuated and told nothing about what was g
oing on.”
“The extermination process itself involves a mixture of toxins that’s allowe
d to blend together and swell in the air forming a deadly cocktail with the power
to suffocate the life out of every oxygen-breathing entity within a few hundred sq
uare miles. It isn’t a pretty sight, believe me, especially when it’s all over with. Yo
u’ve never witnessed such horrible devastation in your life. Bears run screaming
out of the forest barely able to breath, blinded and wailing with unearthly, bloodc
urdling howls emitting out of them. Deer, moose, wolves, foxes, raccoons also try
escaping the deadly cloud with blood spewing out of their mouths and their chest
s heaving and retching up a grotesque, brightly colored fluid. And these are just t
he animals along the perimeter of the poison clouds; animals closer to the central
point of chemical release don’t even have that much of a chance. Death is almost
instantaneous with them. It’s like drifting through a wasteland after a nuclear bo
mb explosion walking into the forest after the application of these chemicals.”
“Nothing, anyplace, is left standing...” he choked off sadly; his eyes becomi
ng moist and puffy and his cheeks flushed red. He lowered his head, pretending t
o stare at the speech notes he had long since abandoned with his palms gripping
the sides of the podium, desperately, propping his shoulders up as he felt he migh
t collapse from grief. “For a biologist to see this for the first time is a life-changin
g experience, I assure you,” he uttered faintly. “Of course, I am putting myself at g
reat risk by telling you all this in public...I’m sworn to keep it a secret...it’s in my c
ontract!” he shrieked in a strange tone that startled people and made them stare
at him more closely.
Slowly, he gathered himself together and glanced at Dr. James and Bennett
behind him; still propping his shoulders up for fear of collapse, then turned and g
azed at the audience with a bolstered resolve that revealed a powerful glint his ey
es:
“Do you know it takes three weeks for the air to clear up enough for anyon
e to walk into an infected area without a respirator on? The chemicals actually b
egin rising up from the ground when the sun heats them up and they linger there,
in suspension, all day long. When anyone stumbles into the area they’re immedia
tely sickened by what they see and sorry to be there, and usually turn around and
leave. It looks like a goddamned moonscape! Most of the plants are destroyed to
o!” he shouted, pounding his fist on the podium and causing considerable feedbac
k in the microphone. “And I haven’t even mentioned the condition of the forest’s
plant life after the EPA’s land reclamation team moves in–a cute term for devastat
ion! Nothing grows for about a year afterward because the soil is so contaminate
d with chemical poisons that all biological substances are forbidden from develo
ping and the nutrients they need to survive cannot be replaced by any method. N
othing but mutated plant life grows the following year and soon even that dies. T
he soil is rendered completely sterile. Then, as plants do begin to grow, nothing b
ut distorted shapes of normal specimens spring up for awhile...oh yeah, and lots o
f weeds!”
“When you come into one of these areas and witness the devastation for t
he first time, a certain hopeless sensation washes over you like nothing you’ve ev
er felt before, and this is before the controlled fires have been set to cover up the
enormous crime scene. That phase comes after the chemical and biological poiso
ns have gone to work and the park is “cleaned out”, so to speak, according to the E
PA’s quaint little term. You walk into a forest past scores of grotesque, twisted fig
ures that used to be animals looking very much like victims of Pompeii: expressio
ns of terror, shock and unimaginable agony still plastered on their faces, which is
in some cases, is the only part of them recognizable as body parts. Often it’s hard
to tell front legs from rear ones and vice versa because spines have become so ta
ngled together in the final struggle for life. To realize that one is at least partly re
sponsible for such a scene of devastation is truly a moral awakening–and perhaps
the beginning of moral apathy. You begin to wonder, as the veteran soldier wond
ers, how there could be any good left in the world as you gaze upon a
scene like that. And moreover, you wonder about the conscience of any being tha
t can produce such destruction in the name of a greater good. What possible “go
od” can come from something like that? It isn’t a pleasant experience to be confr
onted by one’s own conscience, while at the same time staring at the concrete res
ults of a total lack of conscience in others. It’s a memory that has brought terror t
o many hours of otherwise peaceful sleep for me.”
“Something died in me at that time and something was awakened in me at
the same time. My thoughts on what could and should be done in the name of “th
e good” were forever lifted and turned upside down and morality began to take o
n a new shape for me; to seem like just so many volumes of irrelevant theory that
had nothing to do with real life. But even this landed me in a conundrum because
it was my morality, in the first place, that allowed me to commit these acts of evil
for the EPA. According to my employers, “evil” was no longer what it was becaus
e it was being enacted to achieve a higher good: protecting human lives. At least,
this is what society had taught them and every society teaches its populous some
sort of morality, doesn’t it? This forced me to question not only what I was doing,
personally, but the concept of morality in the wider society I was living in. It was
then I broke free of thinking that anything “moral” could be accomplished collecti
vely. Perhaps moral action meant nothing at all in a social context and could only
be defined on a personal level, and the avowed ethics of any society was only be a
s good the sum of the individuals who practiced it. Codes, by themselves, meant
nothing no matter how good they were.”
“Historically, I wondered, how much evil has been created in the name of c
ollective codes of morality? Many of the most atrocious outrages in history have
been committed by groups—nations, races, religions, political movements and tri
bes—who believed they were doing the right thing according to some code of mo
rality. As I looked at what I was doing and reflected back on human history, I beg
an to realize there was very nearly a pattern to this human social behavior. Moral
ity had been the justification for all types of systematic, large-scale campaigns of
oppression, brutalization, slavery and genocide. Of course, I am not speaking stri
ctly about religious morality here, but any code of ethics that fits the bill: political,
religious, economic, nationalistic–codes of conduct in general.”
“I won’t suggest that death and destruction are the only benefits morality
has brought to humankind, nor that it’s been the avowed purpose, but, in many c
ases it has been the unfortunate result because the codes themselves serve to just
ify all kinds of evil actions committed in the name of the code. Morality has been
all too often used to justify blatant wrongdoing, plain and simple. Americans use
d Christianity to justify a ruthless campaign against the indigenous peoples of thi
s continent as we use it today, in more subtle ways, to justify controlling and killi
ng other races in different parts of the world; the Bolsheviks used their particular
form of morality to justify murdering or dispossessing anyone considered bourge
oisie or educated and the catholic church developed a tyrannical morality that kil
led thousands of heretics during the Inquisition. It should be remembered that t
hese actions–considered horrendous today–were, at one time, carried out in the
name of what was considered “the good” and any means was believed to be justifi
ed by the moral code itself. I had to wonder if we weren’t doing the same thing to
day without realizing it,” he added shaking his head.
“Needless to say, the foundations of my ideas about morality and conscien
ce were forever altered. Especially, in the face of so much grotesque and terrifyin
g death and destruction. I began to endure great personal struggles within mysel
f and wondering if morality wasn’t one of the most dangerous elements in our so
ciety; serving merely to justify all our evil actions. Why was I destroying one of t
he most important species on earth simply to defend one of the most selfishly des
tructive? Quite a dilemma for an avowed biologist.”
 “But of course our work went on for years and, though it pains me to admi
t it, I took an active part in every way. But my reluctance to participate increased
as two separate and unrelated events shaped me: first was the shift in my moral t
hinking which I’ve already talked about at length; second, the work of Drs. Catrell,
Gottshalk and Fenster who took it upon themselves, when everyone thought they
were crazy, to study the behavior of the Superspecies, despite the fact that most p
eople considered them just savage beasts. The results of their work shocked the
entire world, revealing not only that the bears expressed a genuine capacity for p
eaceful social interaction with people when treated properly but that they had an
almost unlimited curiosity for learning about us when placed in the right kind of
environment. Meaning, a place where their lives were not threatened.”
“Everything that was believed to be true up to that point was proven false
by the work of these brave men.” He glanced mistily at Catrell, Gottshalk and Fens
ter sitting toward the back of the stage, “They were not the vicious, uncontrollabl
e beasts I had come to believe, nor as they were purported to be according to the
EPA’s standing policy...they were, in fact, emerging beings seeking to survive in a
world that was only now beginning to open a whole new universe of possibilities
to them. I became fascinated. A new life was breathed into me like nothing I’d ev
er experienced before...because of them.”
“I began fighting the EPA on every front regarding their extermination poli
cy and not merely because I wanted to save the bears, but because I could no long
er stand the devastation I was causing. Every fiber of my being fought against it.
I felt responsible–dirty. I had shown them where the Superspecies could be foun
d so they could be studied and understood, not destroyed. I made these animals
visible who were once unknown to people. And the devastation! The twisted, ma
ngled bodies of every type of creature strung out along the mountains, valleys an
d streams; bloody, disfigured, violated shapes in their final death throes who’d ob
viously suffered terribly.”
The sweat began beading up on his forehead and he mopped his brow, sel
f-consciously, glancing timidly at the faces in the crowd as his confidence began t
o wane from a mounting exhaustion. He lost sight of where he was for a moment,
physically and mentally, seeming to float in a kind of dream for awhile in a not en
tirely displeasing way; above and around himself.
“It became apparent to me that exterminating the Superspecies would be
equal to tampering with the course of evolution. I also realized what a dangerous
prospect it would be to interfere with nature. Who knows what long-term effects
it might have on the future of the earth’s delicate ecosystems; how it would affect
the other animals in the forest? It was another example of the gigantic human fol
ly of trying to force nature to submit to a purely human conception of the world r
ather than taking into account what might be done to ensure the welfare of all co
ncerned. We were, in effect, playing God again; deciding who lives and who dies a
nd doing a very poor job of it.”
“I fought the EPA for years to change its policy from extermination once I
decided what I needed to do, and to be sure, I ran up against nothing but resistan
ce. I was reminded over and over again of the threat the animals posed to human
life and was assured my response was “natural” and “noble” but that an unemotio
nal and practical solution was what was needed to resolve it. For years, I reluctan
tly complied with this request, not knowing what else to do, but it was here at W
hite River that my struggle finally came to a head and I realized I could no longer
continue following those orders.” “Make no mistake. The bears at White River ar
e some of the most intelligent creatures I’ve seen to date in the Superspecies strai
n; they possess the most extraordinary powers of awareness, understanding, and
adaptability seen anywhere in the world. Recognizing this, I knew I had to resign
from the EPA in protest.”
“You are staring into the face of a former butcher of one of the greatest spe
cies on earth, someone who, at one time, wondered whether the best way to deal
with them wasn’t extermination, too! I made the grave mistake of introducing th
em to the world so they could be wiped out, ruthlessly, and I’ve been paying for it
ever since!” he said as though damning himself rather than speaking to the other
s. “A few months ago, I resigned from the EPA after eight years of murdering thes
e animals–of walking through thousands of square miles of dead–barely recogniz
able–bodies and knowing that, were it not for me, they might still be alive and left
to themselves. My struggles within myself are over now and it’s time to repay my
debt by convincing the world to save them. It’s my only hope. I’m asking you to h
elp me.”
His appeal was genuine and passionate and weighed heavily on the audien
ce. They were embarrassed by the outpouring of emotion and, even more so, by t
he burden of responsibility it entailed. Intinman’s chin dropped so low it almost
touched the nape of his neck and his arms fell limp at his sides. He became absor
bed in his own thoughts for a moment and felt as though a barrier had been cast
up between himself and the environment all around him. He noticed, however, th
at the group of strong-arming environmentalists had vacated the audience. They
were evidently so disappointed with what they’d heard they felt it a waste of time
to stick around until the end. What were they expecting, he wondered? Words of
inspiration–endorsement? Meanwhile, some of the other supporters cheered for
him in low, somber tones, respecting the seriousness of the subject along with his
plea. Others shouted things like, “we’re with you!” and “you can count on us!” as i
f attending a political rally, and one peculiar young woman close to the front row
gazed at him in abandon, drinking in his words as if she were attending a religiou
s revival. Her intense, fixed stare made him uncomfortable.
“What’s going on behind those heavily guarded gates is a deliberate plan o
f extermination and environmental destruction unmatched anywhere on earth. T
he time has come to stand up and say to the federal government—no more! No
more short-sighted policies rooted in a desire to control everything on the planet
to suit an entirely human-centered view of the world. No more insane concern w
ith preserving ourselves at the expense of every other creature on the planet and
no more destroying the world we live in for the purpose of jeopardizing our futur
e. Nature alone has decided that a single species shall no longer rule the earth.
Who are we to question the will of a force so much greater than ourselves?”
Intinman gratefully acknowledged the audience’s willingness to listen to h
im before coming out from behind the podium to face them directly, bowing graci
ously. But the blank, upturned faces gazing back at him seemed to convey no em
otion and made him sense somehow he’d failed to reach them. He turned quickly
and started toward the side of the stage to escape down the rear stairs in defeat.
Suddenly, after a pause, a loud uproar exploded in the audience followed by thun
dering applause. People were on their feet, cheering, clapping, jumping up and d
own and shouting “Morey!...Morey!...Morey!”, over and over. A gradual shift in his
attitude went from shamefaced grief to jaw-dropping surprise once the sound re
gistered in his ears. He glanced back at the crowd, listening, turned around slowl
y and returned to the front of the stage to stand before them and accept his welco
me accolades; his face aglow with the relief of burdens suddenly and unexpectedl
y lifted.
“Thank you,” he muttered with a distinct awkwardness, bowing slightly an
d feeling that, at any moment, he might collapse from the emotional roller coaste
r ride.
A rush of people converged on him as he exited the stage area and came d
own to audience level. They were smiling, cheering, raising their hats in the air,
with some wearing moist, puffy faces that looked like they might break into fits of
sobbing at any moment. That afternoon he shook hands with countless numbers
of folks who assured him the battle couldn’t possibly be lost with his leadership.
They said things like, “moving speech” and “with you at the helm the bears can’t l
ose”, but much of what he heard sounded like misplaced confidence: the sort of fl
eeting hope one gets when one’s emotions have been raised to lofty levels by insp
iring words that throw the facts in opposition temporarily to the background. To
be sure, there was still a difficult road ahead and he wasn’t about to lose sight of i
t, nor its serious nature, in brief flashes of inspiration.
A flock of reporters also besieged him and were a different breed of anima
l altogether. They buzzed around like honey bees, hovering, stinging and fading b
ack quickly, forever seeking an undefended area to move in for another strike. Th
ey fought to gain closer positions to Dr. Intinman and perform their magic by pus
hing each other side-to-side and out of the way, firing questions from every direct
ion, all at the same time, as cameras, bright lights and sleek, shiny recorders were
shoved in front of his face like slashing talons.
“Dr. Intinman, first of all let me say great speech...a real wallop!” a thin, mo
usey man with rapid hand movements and an efficient, clipped tone remarked.
“What I’d like to know is, do you think what you said today sent the right messag
e to the people of this country about White River? And let me just add before you
respond: did you relay the proper “call to arms” you felt was necessary to rally th
e troops around the Superspecies?
“Well, I’ll admit, young man, I’m at a loss...once I figure out what all that m
eans I’ll try to give you a good answer,” he stammered, still feeling the impervious
sense of elation from the crowd’s overwhelming reaction and the present heady f
eeling of being overly attended to. It made him reflect back on all the lonely, anon
ymous days he’d spent in the laboratory and sitting in front of a typewriter fighti
ng to raise support for a group of animals no one seemed to care about. From bei
ng ignored to being totally overwhelmed; such is the way of our society he said to
himself with a bitter smile. You must be a “somebody” for anyone to care about y
ou at all then they care too much.
Imbalance.
“I’m not quite sure what the “right” message would be...” he continued brig
htly, naively, “...I simply spoke from the heart. I said what needed to be said–that’s
all–even forgot my notes. What more can you ask of anyone?” He gazed wide-eye
d at the reporter, envisioning him as a strange little voyager from another world.
A world of bylines and deadlines and the ever-present aromas of ink, hot paper a
nd nervous coils of confessional smoke.
“I couldn’t agree with you more...couldn’t agree more!” the reporter chuckl
ed boisterously in an affected style and jerky head movements that shrugged off
his interviewee’s evasiveness like a bucking stable horse. He didn’t seem to hear
Intinman at all. “Do you believe what you said strengthened the will of the move
ment, inspiring people to get behind it or not? Was it the call to action you were
hoping for? The dynamic one-two punch?” the reporter relentlessly pursued his
prey.
“Again, my young friend, I’m a little confused. You’re perhaps a bit too you
ng and full of beans for me,” Intinman replied, trying to have some fun with the y
oung man’s overeagerness for success and recognition while playing the role of t
he old geezer (hopelessly out of touch) and hopefully managing to be “grandfathe
red out” of the necessity to engage in any distinctly modern forms of linguistic ob
scurity: the never-ending fascination with changing lingoes, attitudes and postur
es that seem to say too much and nothing at all. “And your use of the popular ter
minology escapes me,” he added for cool, dramatic effect.
“Thank you so much, Dr.,” the up-and-coming, lively reporter replied, resig
ning to defeat and hopelessness in the situation. Though, how anyone could adm
it to being unversed in the social graces of fashionable phraseology was simply be
yond his scope of credible reality. So, he assented, and his opinion of the great m
an plummeted.
The next reporter shouted out, “Dr. Intinman, what d’ya believe your chan
ces are here?” The man was older, more experienced and to the point. “I know y
ou want to win this fight, like anyone, but what do you really think of your chance
s of defeating your enemies?” He said, expanding the question in case the point w
as missed.
“If, by “winning”, you mean protecting the bears, I—”
“—Dr. Intinman, don’t play dumb, you know exactly what I mean,” came th
e smug, slicing reply.
“—am certainly in favor of it, however, I’m not so sure that winning is the
only goal at stake here. We all win by protecting the lives of these creatures; not
me, you or some select group of individuals. If we choose to terminate the Supers
pecies it will be because we’ve allowed the darker side of our natures to take over
to rule our lives, in essence; choosing death over life, or a life that succeeds only t
horough the death and suffering of others, man and beast alike; ending at an omi
nous place–annihilation for all. A decision that will reflect in our collective consci
ousness for centuries to come, much like the bad decisions in our own past histor
y have come back to haunt us today. The decision to grant life or take it away fro
m any earthly creature isn’t ours to make and certainly isn’t a question we ought t
o be considering. We are not gods entrusted with that kind of power except by th
e grace of our own deluded egos. And the notion that it’s a completely selfless act
to preserve these creatures is sheer folly on our own part triggered by our self-ce
ntered imaginations. More than anything else we’d be saving ourselves from bec
oming total savages.”
“I’m not sure I understand you, doctor,” the reporter said sparing no ounce
of professional skepticism.
“This single act of preservation will go a long way toward saving our own s
kins from the effects of permitting our cruelest instincts from becoming the gove
rning principle of our lives; perhaps, in the end, a thing that would turn against u
s. In that way, not killing these animals or destroying our environment isn’t a self
less act–it’s the very opposite–and saving ourselves from that horrid fate, which
will be advanced light years by the act of extermination, is the wisest and most se
lf-preserving thing we can do.”
“So you think you’ve got a good chance, then?” The reporter urged him, do
dging the main point and chasing the elusive two-second film clip that would thr
ust his story onto the top shelf of marketability.
“That depends how much you believe in the inherent good or bad in each
one of us,” Intinman said staring directly at the reporter’s face, then turning quick
ly and leaving him to think it over.
The reporter thanked him and Intinman swore he saw him shaking his he
ad out of the corner of his eye. Well, what did he expect? What did any of them e
xpect? They must have known what he stood for (he’d certainly made it clear en
ough) but in the end they all seemed to miss the point. Did they expect him to ch
ange his personality in the pursuit of notoriety or to suit their standard formats?
In any event, the reporters seemed more reticent now and gazed at him like spur
ned puppies struggling for a place to suckle the mother’s milk. None of them acte
d like they were getting what they wanted from him. Finally, one handsome, conf
ident reporter stepped forward with a decisive lunge until he was standing only i
nches away from Intinman’s face which, presumably, he considered completely n
atural. He had a thin rapier’s nose, a slick, hypnotic voice and a crown of freshly g
roomed hair one could land a small aircraft on, Intinman thought.
“First, let me congratulate you on a tremendous speech, Dr. Intinman.” Th
e man was tall and bold with a large chest; smooth in delivery. He glanced at Inti
nman with a kind of generous pity as if to say he was sorry the biologist wasn’t as
tall and barrel-chested as he, but fortunately his sympathy for the smaller and we
aker of this world was infinite. In fact, people who knew him, when not utterly of
fended by his false and patronizing humanitarianism, generally avoided him anyh
ow.
“Yes, that was a dynamic speech...truly one of a kind! You left ‘em crying in
their diapers with that one,” the reporter grinned at his own cleverness; so close
now his breath formed a shallow breeze on Intinman’s cheek. The reporter’s pec
uliar form of chumminess, along with his abrupt familiarity (not to mention his p
resumption of likeability) made Intinman instantly want to sock him in the gut.
“Did you have a question for me?” Intinman said sharply, glancing around f
or a way out.
“Come on, doc! You wouldn’t give me a straight answer if I did now would
you?” he said winking and nudging his unfortunate captive as if to say he was mu
ch smarter than the others and wouldn’t be so easily discouraged as they. Intinm
an stared at him blankly, too blankly, annoyance clearly breaking through his othe
rwise inscrutable countenance. The other reporters drew back, startled, perceivi
ng it instantly; not so with our man asking the questions, though, to whom subtle
ty was entirely lost. “Alright, Dr. Intinman, you got me,” he said with a giant, envel
oping grin of pearly white teeth that would make any horse proud. “You old goa
t,” he added with an unreciprocated friendliness that seemed to expand the more
it annoyed Intinman and was downright strange for that reason.
“Sir—I—”
“Sir? We’re being awfully formal here–Jerry...Jerry Moreland,” the rare indi
vidual chuckled; grabbing hold of his hand and shaking it vigorously, “You may ha
ve seen my show?”
“—must ask what it is you want...,” Intinman struggled; his eyes bulging ou
t of his head as much as they were glazed over.
 “Yes, sir!” the man shouted aloud so close to Intinman’s ear there was still
ringing in them seconds later, followed by another horse-like grin. “What I want t
o know is..,” giving a wink for dramatic effect, as though granting him a reward fo
r an honest effort, “...do you have any idea of the shockwaves your speech will sen
d throughout the country? I mean what you said up there was one of the most da
mning indictments of our society I have ever heard. I’m sure many people will fe
el the same way.”
Intinman stood staring, without blinking, at the man’s large face wonderin
g if there was a question somewhere he might have missed.
“Dr. Intinman don’t tell me you’re not aware of what condemning our socie
ty as a whole might do to your reputation? Aren’t you the least bit concerned abo
ut that?”
“I’m not concerned at all with my reputation or how people will react to w
hat I said, only with saving these animals. If my reputation suffers because of it o
r something I said helps to reach that goal, so be it.”
“But you’re a highly respected researcher in your field. Aren’t you at all w
orried about the public’s impression of you?”
“Not particularly, no.”
“Boy, you’re sure a tough nut to crack, Dr., I’ll give you that,” the reporter c
oncluded unsatisfactorily. “This story is going to hit the networks tomorrow mor
ning, making you look like the most raving, man-hating monster anyone’s ever se
en and you act as if you’re completely unphased by the whole thing.”
“I am,” he said, turning away.
This impugning of his personality, however close to the truth it might be, d
idn’t appear to rattle him in the least. He had other concerns. Besides, how could
he begin to explain the breadth of life beyond public sentiment and the futility of
expending one’s energy predicting what form it might take next to someone who’
d made it their life’s work to react according to it?
He eventually escaped from the gaggle of reporters to where Bennett and J
ames were waiting for him to emerge from the crowd of restless bodies. Some tri
ed chasing after him, hurling a variety of last minute, off-hand questions in his dir
ection, but he managed to elude them all by barking over his shoulder, “That’ll be
enough for today” with a cursory flick of his wrist.
Dr. James inquired, “Are you ready?”
“More than you know. Let’s get the hell out of here. You all packed?” Both
Dr. James and Bennett nodded; yes.
“Then off we go...back to Washington,” Intinman said thrusting an open, in
viting hand ahead of them for the others to lead and he would follow.

Chapter 2

“Jesus! It’s been over a week and we still haven’t found any goddamned be
ars!” the delegate complained with a bitter whine, spitting fire at Matte Spenser
who presently looked a bit subdued. Her lids closed so far over her eyes that the
delegate couldn’t tell whether she was paying attention to him or not, but her bod
y language seemed to indicate she was far too relaxed for the situation and perha
ps even glad the project was failing miserably. They had just gotten back from an
other fruitless day in the field without spotting a single bear and the delegate wa
s outraged. The tracks they came across several days ago were the only signs of b
ear activity they’d seen since and it was beginning to grate on his nerves; forcing
him to take it out on anyone around. There’d been nothing today and nothing for
two days prior. It was like they vanished into thin air.
“Maybe it’s time to check the dens. Could we try smoking them out of thei
r homes?” he said grasping at any ray of hope.
Falcon jolted upright upon hearing this question raised and the legs of the
chair banged loudly against the floor. He cast a glance in Skaggs’ direction to see i
f his reaction had revealed too much. The verdict was yes. The delegate looked a
t him sharply, sensing something was wrong without knowing why.
“What do you think, Mr. Falcon? Should we investigate the dens?” he stare
d down his long nose at him as the musty odor of stale coffee and cigarettes reach
ed Falcon’s nostrils with a vengeance. He got up and turned around to open a wi
ndow, hiding his face from the delegate’s prying gaze, and doing his best to muste
r a casual tone:
“Hmmm, I don’t know,” he replied in thoughtful voice that wasn’t terribly n
atural. “It doesn’t sound like such a great idea to me.”
“Then—Dammit! What the hell are we going to do? You tell me!” The del
egate banged his fist loudly on the table. “We haven’t bagged a single bear yet, so
me of my men have been hurt and killed, and I’m not about to see this project go
down in flames!”
“Perhaps..,” Skaggs calmly intervened, “...the bears escaped up north or we
nt to the high country and are out of our reach now.”
“Then we have to follow them, simple as that!” said the delegate.
“Following bears into the treacherous high country without the proper eq
uipment or people who’re experienced in mountain climbing is suicide,” came an
even calmer reply. “And this project isn’t authorized to venture outside the park.”
“I suppose you’re right,” the delegate agreed in frustration, “The bears wo
uld probably starve up there anyhow; no food. But the dens...” he added with an
unmistakable gleam in his eyes, “...we have to start there...”
“Bears are never in their dens during the late summer and fall. It would b
e a total waste of time looking there,” Falcon offered helpfully. “They probably es
caped up north and south when they noticed all the activity in the park. You saw
the tracks. They could be anywhere in the lower half of the Rockies now.”
“Bears never stray to far from home,” the delegate protested. “Instinctuall
y they are bound to very limited, well-defined territories. Even when they’re rem
oved from their homes for some reason, they almost always return.
“Under normal circumstances that would be true,” Falcon pointed out, gra
sping for explanations now, “But, don’t forget, these are very intelligent animals.
Nobody knows for sure what they’re capable of.”
“Including hiding out in their dens?” the delegate countered sharply; half-s
miling at Falcon, who met his gaze for as long as he thought wise, then turned qui
ckly away.
“I don’t believe it’s possible. If the bears were inside the park they would
n’t be hiding in their dens, they’d be out feeding,” said Skaggs, offering his opinio
n.
“I don’t care what you say,” the delegate replied harshly, “We haven’t killed
a single bear since we arrived. We’ve got to change our strategy. Besides, it’s alm
ost time to release the chemicals.”
At the mention of the word “chemicals” something leaped and squirmed in
side Falcon like a restless tapeworm. Something that crept out abruptly from beh
ind the intellectual consolations he’d built up to protect himself from the fact unti
l it was triggered by the sound of the word. Chemicals marked the beginning of t
he end for the park, and even though he knew it was coming for some time it did
n’t make it any easier when it finally did.
The delegate leaned toward the two ranking hunters in the room, who sat
on either side of him, saying, “Tomorrow, we release the poisons. Tell the men to
get everything ready.” The hunters, who were in charge of the others, got up from
their chairs and headed out to the barracks trailers after a quick “yes, sir”, a click
of the heels, and a snappy twist-turn on one leg.
“But first we need to try those dens to see if anything’s hiding in there,” he
muttered to himself after they were gone, grinning in private delight.
Falcon never wanted to punch a man out more than he wanted to at this ve
ry moment, gazing into the face of someone who wore a happy glint in his eyes, a
n ecstatic expression on his face, at the thought of exterminating a group of helpl
ess animals. No, not so much “punch out” but “stamp out” as from the face of the
earth, he said to himself after a moment. But realizing his current situation of bei
ng hopelessly outmanned and outgunned by at least fifty-to-one, he considered it
might be wise to keep his emotions in check awhile longer until he had time to co
me up with a better way of taking revenge. He glanced over at Skaggs who looke
d more worried than enraged.
“Do you know where the dens are?” the delegate directed at Falcon.
“Some, not all. Bears will sometimes change the location of their den if the
y feel a spot’s been compromised–if there are too many hikers in the area or if th
ere are other competing predators around–so we may not find them all.”
“That’s alright, at least it’s a start. We’ve done a complete sweep of the par
k and now it’s time to go underground before we drop the poisons from the air.”
The delight with which he uttered the word “poisons” sent a sensation do
wn Falcon’s spine like it had been set ablaze from the inside or was standing too c
lose to a blast furnace. He lowered his eyes and gazed, furtively, at the delegate li
ke a wild cat whose every muscle bristled with a desire to pounce and tear into th
e flesh of this vile creature.
Later that night, Falcon and Skaggs met in the office after everyone else wa
s sleep. All the lights had been turned off and the shades pulled tight (so there w
as no noticeable activity from the outside) and only a single desk lamp was lit in F
alcon’s back office.
“What do you think we ought to do about this situation?” Skaggs said poin
tedly, adding, “I know what I’d like to do, kill the son-of-bitch!”
“Me too,” Falcon admitted with an extraordinary calm, “Just the sight of hi
m makes my skin crawl...like sitting down and having a nice, polite chat with Her
mann Goering.”
“I’ve got an idea of how we can get rid of the bears still holing up in the pa
rk, if there are any around. We’ll smoke them out of their dens with smoke bomb
s; nothing harmful, of course, just enough to force them into the open and out of t
he park.”
“But we’ve already been through the park once.”
“Some of the bears may have returned since then, besides, it wouldn’t hurt
to revisit those same dens again. We already know where most of them are and c
an head right to ‘em.”
 Later that night, and through the early hours of the morning, Skaggs and F
alcon carried backpacks stuffed with bundles of the small, powerful smoke bomb
s over the mountains and on into the chilly darkness. Their goal was to seek out
each and every den they knew of on this cloudless night with the moon watching
them brightly overhead. Visibility was good and the air was alive with the persist
ent hum of crickets, which they were grateful for because it masked the sound of
their feet rustling through the underbrush from the guards still circling the park f
leshing out intruders. Luckily, most of them were easy to spot because of reflecti
ve orange patches on their shoulders that made them clearly visible from a distan
ce in the bright moonlight. Nevertheless, they still had to scurry around, mostly o
n hands and knees, hiding in tall, silhouetted vegetation, patches of forest, fallen t
rees, outcrops or whatever else was available to avoid being detected as they carr
ied out this operation.
It was a strange feeling for Falcon to have to conceal his actions from other
people in his own domain, or rather what once was. He’d been made a stranger i
n his own land and a barbarian in the gates of a place it was his sworn duty to pro
tect.
The first den they came to was one they discovered on the first day of thei
r original tour of the park. Dr. Intinman’s tour. It had been vacated by the bear th
e day it was found, out the back, but it was possible the same bear, or another one,
had returned since then to reclaim it. In any case, it was a known bear den and
would be necessary to check out because something might be living in it again.
One concern they had was the noise the bears might make when they shot
out of their dens after being so rudely “smoked out” by the rangers. The national
guard was still watching the boundaries of the park and a mix of EPA and nationa
l guard troops busied themselves covering every inch of the park’s interior night
and day. They had to be careful. The only advantage Falcon and Skaggs did have,
being so completely outmanned, was knowing the terrain a lot better than their e
nemies with its many advantages for concealment. They’d also taken the precaut
ion of wearing dark, non-reflective clothing while the EPA’s troops had on bright,
reflective patches and the national guard, shiny helmets, revealing their whereab
outs clearly from a distance. In addition, the troops made noisy footsteps as they
walked along in pairs, talking and sometimes laughing; warning the rangers well
in advance of their approach. Of course, it wasn’t necessary for them to hide thei
r presence with such superior numbers.
The first den looked like it hadn’t seen activity in ages. No attempt was ma
de to hide the entrance from view and no fresh dirt, leaves, branches, or twigs co
uld be seen anywhere near the opening revealing the handiwork of a homemakin
g bear. Falcon lowered the backpack from his shoulders and unzipped it quietly.
In the background he heard the voices of a couple guards and peered over the top
of a boulder to check their exact location; both were smoking cigarettes and talki
ng loudly. He removed one of the smoke bombs from the backpack and placed it
deep inside the front entrance so no smoke would escape and draw attention to t
hem. He reached in as far as it could laying on his stomach, a terribly vulnerable
position if there was a bear still inside who’d picked up their scent; gently removi
ng the pin from the catch and pressing down on the release lever. Smoke began c
oming out the top almost immediately, slowly at first, then huge puffs, some outsi
de the den. He obviously hadn’t placed it in far enough. He should’ve used somet
hing–a stick perhaps–to push it in further (another extremely risky procedure if a
bear was waiting inside to attack the intruders). Too late now, he could no longer
see the canister. Abundant clouds of smoke escaped outside and would surely cat
ch the attention of the guards.
“Damn it!” Falcon cursed himself softly; standing up, removing his coat an
d waving it up-and-down, side-to-side, at the clouds of escaping smoke. He was h
oping to the push it back inside the den where it wouldn’t be noticed or disperse i
t enough in the air so it wouldn’t reveal their presence. They waited about ten mi
nutes: nothing happened; both seemed convinced the den was empty. Falcon’s ef
forts managed to successfully push the smoke back inside for the most part, the r
est scattered over a wide area that likely wouldn’t attract much attention from a
distance. He kept fanning to keep it at bay.
Skaggs whispered only inches away, “What’s going to happen if one of the
m makes a run for it?”
“What do you mean?” was the puzzled reply.
“When one of them bolts out of the den isn’t it going to draw a lot of attent
ion from our friends all over the park?”
“Yes, but they’ll never know what’s happening unless they catch us in the a
ct,” Falcon replied confidently. “What could they possibly guess from a couple of
bears running through the park in the middle of the night?”
“Nothing, I s’pose,” Skaggs admitted, “But they might sound the alarm and
call out the rest of the troops.”
“True. That’s a risk we’ll have to take.”
“Uh-huh, but running through the park past all those hunters is likely to ge
t them killed, isn’t it?” Skaggs lamented.
“They’ve got a lot better chance running full-speed through the forest in th
e middle of the night than sitting in their dens waiting to be gassed by chemical p
oisons. And if the hunters are busy chasing the bears or running away from them,
it’ll sure keep ‘em out of our hair. If we got
caught, they’d probably shoot us,” Falcon pointed out.
“True,” Skaggs agreed. “They probably don’t have a chance of hitting the b
ears in the dark, anyway, especially being taken completely by surprise and—”
Suddenly, they spotted long coils of smoke rising out of the den’s opening
as low, rumbling snorts kept getting louder and louder and the ground shook fro
m the inside. Instinctively, the men raised their rifles and aimed at the yawing m
outh of the entrance with looks of complete surprise on their faces; hoping by so
me miracle they wouldn’t have to use them because it would surely give them aw
ay. Falcon felt some pressure on the barrel of his rifle and locked one incredulous
eye with Skaggs who was forcing it to the ground and making a slicing gesture in
front of his neck.
“It’s in there alright,” he whispered excitedly, “Let’s get the hell out of here
–quick! The bear’ll come out on its own. If we shoot it, we’ll only alert the others
to our presence.”
So they left the den in a hurry to make it out of there before the bear blast
through the opening in a heated frenzy. Skaggs realized their presence at the ent
rance may have prevented the bear from coming out sooner and possibly prolong
ed its inhalation of smoke. After several minutes of ducking and running through
heavily interlocked branches they heard a blind, mad dash behind them followed
by several loud and chilling howls that got even louder as the animal passed into
the open. The two guards down the hill responded by yelling out in surprise and
confusion, running around in circles with their rifles raised at anything that move
d, and a lot that didn’t, seeking any sign of the unknown disturbance in the night.
It was impossible to see what was happening from where they were hidde
n in the bushes but it sounded like the bear charged down the hill in the direction
of the two guards. They heard a series of startled shouts followed by a quick scur
rying for cover. Nothing they could do about that. They had no way of controllin
g which direction the bear would head once it cleared out of the den. Luckily, tho
ugh, they hadn’t heard any shots fired or screams of an attack as the noise died in
the distance so they figured it a good bet the bear had gotten away. It was almost
impossible to shoot a running animal in the dark anyway they reminded themsel
ves, even a large one. Not far off, the voices of several more hunters could be hea
rd scrambling toward the disturbance that reached them in their positions mome
nts ago; their stampeding footsteps getting closer followed by loud screaming an
d yelling at what they might find when they arrived. The ensuing chaos pierced t
he silence of misty morning like a tidal wave crashing over a tranquil oasis, compl
etely engulfing it. The guards would be on high alert now, Skaggs whispered to F
alcon, making their job even more difficult, but there was still more work to be do
ne before the night was over.
From a high up on a ridge the sound of a baying wolf descended into a shal
low river valley where the rangers were slowly working their way up to another
den. The elusive creature let out one haunting, gut-wrenching cry after another t
hat sprang from the deepest instincts of a creature more often heard than seen. T
he mysterious lullaby, lonesome and saddening as it was, fit their situation quite
nicely and drove the rangers to finish their task and return home safely
that night.
The next morning the hunters were busy preparing for the roll out of the p
rofessional chemical teams. Some members of the bio-toxicology squad had whit
e 20 gallon plastic tanks attached to their backs while others carried metal canist
ers in one hand and large triggered sprayers on the other. The metal canisters he
ld a military-grade chemical agent and the plastic containers, a toxic bio-agent, of
which Falcon never learned the use or name. All wore respirator masks, even the
hunters, and they suited up near the barracks trailers, strapping tanks on their ba
cks and masks to their faces with the help of their partners as Falcon and Skaggs l
ooked on in wonder. Another separate group, dressed in black commando gear, s
ported steel tanks attached to flamethrowers in case the bears had to be smoked
out of their dens in such an understated fashion. Falcon asked what would happe
n if the flamethrowers caused a fire to get out of control in the forest and was info
rmed it wasn’t his concern any longer–the EPA was in charge now and would tak
e care of everything. He was also flatly reminded to “butt-out” and mind his own
business by the delegate, which he resolved to do for the most part, reminding hi
mself he would opt to “butt back in” whenever he saw an opportunity to sabotage
the aims of the project.
A thought suddenly occurred to Falcon as he watched the elaborate proces
s unfolding before his eyes: they hadn’t taken the time last night to cover up their
tracks. The hunters might notice the man-made footprints scattered all over near
the dens and wonder what happened. Or they might assume one of the environm
ental or animal rights groups managed to sneak though the guards again, or may
be, they wouldn’t notice at all in the confusion and chaos.
“Mr. Falcon...,” the delegate observed with curious smugness, “...you seem a
bit tired today. Had a rough night last night?”
He realized he should’ve thought about the next day’s appearance a bit mo
re to avoid raising any suspicions about the previous night’s activity.
There were quite a few disturbances last night,” the delegate began his ne
ws bulletin, “Seems bears were running wild all over the park last night ‘til the w
ee hours.” He looked at Falcon squarely, unsuspecting, it seemed, yet expectin
g some sort of reaction or explanation of why the bears in his park were acting so
unusual.
Beside the delegate was Matte Spenser looking pale and lifeless; limp and
wilted as a flower with a set of dark, filmy, downcast eyes. She was sipping coffee
from a paper cup and shivering in the early morning chill. The project has really t
aking its toll on her, Falcon said to himself, turning away from the shuddering sig
ht of her. He felt her eyes on him wondering why he looked so equally ragged tod
ay.
“That’s odd,” Falcon replied to the delegate’s news without hurry; trying hi
s best to look surprised without overdoing it. Next to him Skaggs did a better job
of conveying the same reaction: “Was anybody hurt?” he asked with genuine inter
est.
“No, fortunately, not. I can’t afford to have anyone else injured on this proj
ect,” the delegated snapped, pacing around in a huff. “A few of my men took shots
at them but found out you can’t hit a running animal in the dark,” he explained for
Falcon’s benefit.
“How many were there?”
“A few...” the delegate replied in obvious frustration, “...three, four, five...wh
o knows? Goddamned crafty animals, they are! Probably trying to sneak out und
er cover of darkness.”
“Clever’s what they are,” Falcon agreed with a casual air, “It wouldn’t surpr
ise me at all if that’s what they were trying to do.”
After the preparations were completed, the caravan of hunters, chemical s
pecialists and bio-toxicologists headed out in eight large, specially equipped tran
sport vehicles into the heart of the forest. There were about seventy men total in
the mobile band of extermination experts and it became a major operation just k
eeping them all together as they attempted to negotiate the steep grades and des
cents of the restricted access roads scaling the Rockies.
The first attempt these “experts” made to smoke a bear out of its den nearl
y ended in the deaths of some of the chemical applications specialists and one fla
methrower operator and in neither instance was a bear involved. A tank containi
ng flammable gas exploded when a broken seal between the ignition chamber an
d the fuel delivery mechanism allowed a spark from one into the other, resulting i
n a powerful flare up that caught instantly and lasted only a few seconds. Fortun
ately for the man with the flamethrower, the tank wasn’t on his back at the time.
Several of the chemical specialists were blown on their backs, knees, arms and fa
ces–and heads and legs were battered, bruised and scraped in the blast–but no o
ne was seriously injured. The flamethrower operator, who was closest to the expl
osion, received slight burns on the back of his legs and clothes, but nothing any w
orse than that.
The delegate was livid–another disaster! He stormed around outside the
den, shouting obscenities in the air and shaking his fist at the group of shocked h
unters who stood gaping at the mess of injured comrades. The delegate picked u
p pieces of the flamethrower’s gas canister and flung them freely in all directions,
casting his miseries to the four winds it would seem, and everyone else within th
rowing range. It was a disgraceful scene for a man in his position, but one everyo
ne had come expect from him.
Looking around, Falcon couldn’t see any of the tracks they’d made even th
ough they were guiding the delegate to the same dens they had visited last night.
Luckily, he hadn’t worn his ranger boots. The shoe print on them was pretty disti
nct and a keen eye might be able to figure out what sort of heel made them if ther
e were any around. Bear tracks, on the other hand, were abundant; distorted spe
cimens could be spotted dug deep in the soil near the dens where large patches o
f earth had been yanked up and thrown back as the bears made their panic-strick
en escapes.
“Here’s a site where a bear obviously got away,” the delegate announced b
efore anyone else. “One of the bastards ran the hell out of here last night.” He sta
red expectantly at the
others as if awaiting praise for this supposedly brilliant deduction. His simpering
expression leering long and mercilessly at them, anticipating earned and deserve
d accolades for his quick assessment of the situation. He gave up after a few min
utes of finding no ready praise, though, instead getting uncomprehending looks a
s they studied the scene without paying any attention him. He decided they were
simply jealous of his keenness of perception and afraid to show their admiration.
Another major disaster was narrowly avoided a few hours later when one of the
hunters spotted what he thought to be a rare example of a fox strolling through th
e forest and decided to take a running shot at it; forgetting that only fifty feet awa
y was another hunter who nearly walked into the path of the runaway bullet. Th
e shooter barely missed the other hunter and was severely reprimanded for his la
pse in judgement by the captain in charge of field operations. The would-be fox h
unter was allowed to return to formation only after receiving a tongue-lashing for
thirty minutes.
In every way, it seemed, the project was be falling apart.
“Where had all the bears gone?” the delegate privately cursed himself, at ti
mes, and loudly at others after coming in contact with another den showing signs
of a swift getaway. This set of tracks began at the den’s entrance and disappeared
somewhere in the forest a few hundred feet away.
“Another escape!” shouted the delegate in disgust as he took in the enorm
ous mess all around him. “What the hell is going on around here? It’s like the go
ddamned animals knew we were coming.” He noticed something else on the grou
nd not far from the path of escape: another set of tracks encircling the front of th
e den. They were situated on either side only a few yards away; also disappearin
g into the bush.
“There’s something else here, too. Looks like human tracks. Fresh,” he an
nounced. Falcon tried to appear surprised by the information while Skaggs show
ed no signs of disturbance whatsoever on his face.
“How do you know they’re fresh?” Dr. Spenser asked curiously.
“It rained the night before last, don’t you remember? The tracks would’ve
been washed away if they were made before yesterday. Besides look how clear th
ey are.”
“Maybe it’s one of those militant groups on the outside that’s managed to s
neak into the park again,” she said.
 “Can’t be! Not with all the extra manpower we have guarding the park’s b
oundaries now. No one could get past such a fortress of men,” the delegate insist
ed as strenuously as he feared that was exactly what did happen.
He peered sharply into the interior of the den looking for something to eas
e his suffering. A clue perhaps. The half lit opening trailed far back to a shadowy,
larger chamber that was wider and ran perpendicular to the length of the entryw
ay. With his fingers, he scraped the top and side surfaces just inside the opening
and drew his hand out curiously.
“Look,” he exclaimed, showing them a strange looking white dust. He sniff
ed it. It had a putrid odor like burnt sulfur. He blew the dust from his fingers wit
h a dramatic flair and glared around ‘til his face locked on a target. “Someone set
off smoke bombs and smoked them out of their dens.” He was staring at Falcon a
s he said it but the accused betrayed nothing on his face. Instead, he strolled over
to the den’s entrance as if desiring to satisfy his own curiosity at this most fascina
ting development.
“Someone who must’ve known our plans,” his tone deepened; working hi
mself into an angry, righteous lather.
“I told you, it was probably one of the environmental or animal rights grou
ps who’re so opposed to us, ” Dr. Spenser proposed.
“How would they know we were going to attack the bears today in their d
ens–or at all?” he said brushing aside the ridiculous remark.
“Maybe they didn’t know,” Skaggs suggested, “Maybe they just got lucky.”
The delegate glared at him sharply. Who was this little man, this country b
umpkin, to
defy his judgment? Who was he kidding? “Lucky? If I only had that kind of luck j
ust once!” he scoffed, wondering why he hadn’t been able to catch a single break
during this entire ordeal and beginning to believe luck simply didn’t exist for him.
Already, he heard the rumblings of earnest and delicate discussion coming out of
the EPA’s general administration board regarding his ability to carry out what wa
s considered to be a relatively simple task: killing a few stupid animals.
“No, this couldn’t have been done by some random group of people. How
would they know what we were up to?” he repeated, challenging his doubters to
come up with an answer; leveling a piercing, vindictive eye at everyone around.
“Perhaps someone tipped them off or they’re spying on us,” Spenser said t
rying to reason through his mounting paranoia but doing more to increase it.
“You mean they’ve got someone on the inside...one of ours?” the delegate r
eplied incredulously. “I don’t believe it, unless...” He glanced at Falcon and Skagg
s who were both examining the entrance to the den, scraping dust residue from t
he inner walls and talking quietly amongst themselves, “...unless...,” he whispered
secretly to her, “...we’ve got a couple of traitors in our midst.” He jerked his head i
n their direction with one conspiring eye fixed on her.
“You don’t think...?” she answered back with a rising chill.
“I do–and why not–is it really so hard to believe?” he said haughtily, “They’
ve been against this project right from the start. Wouldn’t surprise me if they ca
me out here last night and did it themselves. They certainly look tired enough to
have been up all night doing something.”
“What are you going to do? You can’t prove any of this,” she asked dreadin
g the response.
“Proof?” he balked at her, “Hah! Who needs it? People without power or fr
iends in high places,” he said, reveling in the miracle of himself.
One of the hunters called them over to a set of footprints buried a bit furth
er back in the forest. They were deep and well-defined in the partially dried mud
and lay behind a small ridge raised up and overlooking the den where, apparently
the saboteurs hid in order to view the success of their handiwork after emplacin
g the smoke device.
“I have to ask both of you straight...” the delegate’s prying, autocratic tone
ventured like a creaky can opener, “...do you know anything about this?” Falcon w
as shocked but not discomposed by the directness of the question which the dele
gate actually pulled off it rather gracefully.
“No. I know as much as you do,” Falcon said in an unwavering voice, thoug
h his body felt a bit stiffer than normal.
“It’s too much of a coincidence that on the day we set out to poison the bea
rs, we find that somebody’s already beaten us to it leaving behind clear signs of t
heir presence. Tell me the truth.”
“It sure is!” Falcon whole-heartedly agreed with just the right measure of
disbelief, trying his best to sound distressed over their situation.
“What about you!” the delegate demanded of Skaggs who stood slack-shou
ldered, as if he hadn’t been listening to the question. “I know nothing about it, eit
her,” he answered with a tinge of insolence, slapping his teeth with his tongue an
d tossing his head back cooly and defiantly.
“You’re not supplying information to anyone on the outside about what’s b
een going on here, eh?” the delegate demanded of both of them with his narrow g
aze honing in on their every reaction. They both shook their heads. “And you ha
d nothing to do with it yourselves I suppose?”
“No.”
“Somebody better start giving me some straight answers or there’s likely t
o be a full investigation into this matter and I suspect a couple of folks around her
e who know more than they’re telling are going to be prime suspects! I could hav
e you locked up just on suspicion of being involved,” the delegate threatened the
m. “You had motive and opportunity.”
“That may be–and I know you don’t trust us in the first place–but it doesn’
t change the fact that we had nothing to do with it, ” Falcon said flatly and unemot
ionally, almost apologetically; managing to portray himself as calm and coolheade
d under the pressure of close scrutiny. “Last night I was in my office and Rick we
nt home to bed. These accusations are completely groundless and out of line.”
“Out of line, that remains to be seen, but more importantly are they true?”
the delegate countered with a cynical gleam.
“No, they aren’t...and just remember, we’re under no obligation to stay on
with this project if you give us anymore trouble. We’re doing it as a favor to the N
ational Park Service because they asked us to...otherwise our job here is finished.
This extermination program is taking care of that.”
The delegate thought about it–and was stunned. What if they did abandon
the project all of a sudden and he was forced to take care of things on his own? H
is mind tripped back to the large bear ambush at the river canyon as his imaginat
ion thrust him vividly into the depth of inadequacies displayed in that situation a
nd flashing images ambushed him like a charge of heavy calvary. All the other dis
asters, too. He felt in over his head on this project and the feeling turned instantl
y to a cold, tangled mass of fear, failure and despair in his gut. Falcon noted his re
action and sensed he had struck the right spot to bring down this monstrous Cycl
ops. The delegate’s eyes turned pasty white, staring vacantly, and he seemed to h
ave trouble keeping his balance.
The suspense was too much for Dr. Spenser, she smiled weakly, saying, “Ob
viously, they had nothing to do with it. You’re just angry because the project is fai
ling miserably and you’re trying to find someone to take the blame, that’s all.”
“—You can’t leave this project!” the delegate burst out suddenly with his c
heeks flushed and trembling; on the verge of sobbing. “You’re part of it now and t
here’s no dropping out.”
“Says who?” demanded Falcon.
“I could have you arrested for compromising the integrity of a federal prog
ram if you do!” the delegate said–very satisfied with being in a position to be able
to say it.
“Go ahead,” came the taunting reply, “Then you definitely won’t have our h
elp.”
“We aren’t required to take this abuse,” Skaggs added; feigning offense and
thoroughly enjoying the delegate’s suffering.
“Please,” Dr. Spenser pleaded with the crimson-faced dignitary, “We need t
heir help.”
“Alright, shut up! All of you!” The delegate belted out as if a steam valve ha
d suddenly burst open in him, releasing an abundance of pressure. He walked off
by himself in a huff and shouted at the sky without looking back: “This project is
going to be the death of me! I can’t believe this is happening. Why me?”
The possibility of Falcon’s and Skaggs’ guilt in driving the bears out of thei
r dens, thankfully, wasn’t brought up again, which Falcon, for one, was glad of. Th
eir ruse had been convincing enough to throw the dogs off the scent (he hoped!),
temporarily at least. Or maybe the delegate was simply too frightened to bring it
up again for fear they would walk. It would’ve been difficult to continue proclaim
ing their innocence when a brief look inside the shed behind the office would’ve r
evealed the whole story. Stacks of boxes filled with smoke canisters lay inside. L
ater that night, these boxes were buried behind Falcon’s cabin just in case.
The next day proved to be another without incident, a total failure without
a single bear spotted. During the day, fifteen dens were visited and none found to
be occupied. Falcon wondered if so many bears bolting out of their dens in the m
iddle of the night had warned the others in some way–by the tone of their cries o
r the urgency of their flight or something. Or maybe the numerous growls and w
ails going on through the night had been enough to alert any bears still in the are
a that it was time to get out. One thing was certain, they hadn’t smoked out fiftee
n dens in ten hours, that would’ve taken more than one outing, so something else
had warned them, if there were any left, to leave.
“What do you make of that delegate?” Skaggs questioned Falcon over a gla
ss of bourbon later that evening.
“You mean do I think he believes we’re innocent? No, I don’t. But I think h
e’s suspicious of everyone in general and no one in particular and that’s the his pr
oblem. The generally suspicious just go around accusing everyone of everything
without ever knowing whether they’re right or wrong until somebody actually ad
mits it. It’s a major failing of the personality type that makes it easy to fool them.”

“So you’re saying he doesn’t know what to believe?”

 “He was hoping we would crack under the pressure of his sweeping accus
ations and reveal our guilt to him–then he’d know.”
“Maybe he bought the idea that it was outsiders. Some radical environme
ntal group or something?”
“Let’s hope so,” Falcon sighed, “I don’t need to add federal felon to my list o
f qualifications at the new post wherever it’ll be. I was pretty worried about that
despite what I may have looked like at the time.”
Skaggs chuckled at him, fondly.
Next morning Falcon received a call from the chief of the Steamboat Sprin
gs Fire Brigade who telephoned to follow up on the fate of the five firemen that di
sappeared over a week ago. Right away the captain assured him the men were ali
ve and doing well and had been kidnaped by a group of arsonists who started the
blaze at White River. The firemen stumbled upon the arsonists setting fires in dif
ferent areas of the forest on four separate occasions in an attempt to create one
monster blaze they hoped would be too difficult for the firefighters to get under c
ontrol. When confronted, the arsonists drew guns and took them hostage, threat
ening to shoot them if they didn’t comply.
“What happened next? Are they okay?” Falcon said excitedly into the recei
ver.
“Yes,” replied the fire chief, “They got beat up pretty badly by their abducto
rs as a warning to comply, but they all handled it fairly well. The last one got out
of the hospital yesterday.”
“What about the kidnappers? Did they catch any of ‘em?”
“The police questioned the firemen and drew up a couple of sketches from
what little they remembered glancing at the arsonists almost two weeks ago, but
they haven’t found any of them yet. Their memories were still kind of hazy after s
uch a long ordeal, as you might imagine, and the day of the kidnaping they were k
nocked unconscious and carried back to the trucks where they were quickly blin
dfolded and didn’t get a second look at them after that. The whole time they wer
e held captive they were made to wear hoods and sleep on concrete floors in tiny,
empty rooms. Fed once a day.”
“Who were they? Terrorists?”
“We don’t know. If not, some way off, fringe-dwelling political activists fro
m what their captives overhead in their presence. The kind that imagine they’re
gonna save the world by ridding it of the human element.”
“Bastards and hypocrites, all of ‘em,” Falcon rankled in disgust, “Were all fi
ve of them recovered?”
“So far, only three,” the chief replied in a voice that deepened with sadness.
“The others may well be...I mean we’re hoping for the best, but...” his voice closed
up and seemed to shrink from the line.
“Sorry.”
“It’s that kind of business, isn’t it?” the chief replied, trying to justify his o
wn suffering. “If it isn’t the elements or wild animals that get us it’s the odd loose
cannon.”
“That’s the downside for sure,” Falcon said simply.
“Anyway, I thought you’d like to know,” the chief muttered softly.
“Thanks. And let me know if...when you find out anything about the other
s.”
“I will. Take care, Jack.”
Chapter 3

The following day the search team again had no luck fleshing out the bears
either inside or outside the dens. The few remaining hovels they did come across
were obviously vacant when poisons were injected into them and nothing came r
unning out or was heard struggling for oxygen within; and no bears were found i
n the regular feeding grounds or walking around the valleys and meadows during
the course of the day. Several of the dens did show signs of recent activity though
–prints and digging for example–with bear scat and denuded tree trunks close to
some of them, but no animals inside. And no white powder was spotted on the in
ner walls of the dens which made the delegate wonder if smoke bombs were reall
y the cause of their absence. His mind began to dwell more and more on the poss
ibility that the bears had been warned by some natural aspect of their environme
nt or they detected approaching danger purely on instinct or intelligence; possibl
y because there was so much activity in the park.
The situation confused Falcon also. The bears were doing things entirely
unexpected for what he’d always known about their behavior–frightening and fas
cinating him at the same time. The thought of it! This group of strange and wond
erful creatures in his own backyard being touched by the hand of enlightenment
and blasting every attempt to capture them into oblivion. Managing, all the while,
to stay one step ahead of their pursuers.
Falcon said frankly to the delegate, “Are you finally coming around to the p
ossibility that the bears may have left the park strictly on the basis of all the activi
ty going on? There are so many people here now, the bears are bound to have got
ten smart and scattered up north, south or west.”
“It’s never been a problem for us before. In fact, our large numbers have al
ways been a tremendous asset for the program. It allows us to map out specific s
trategies to be able to completely overwhelm them.”
“Well, it certainly isn’t working this time, but I imagine White River’s a co
mpletely different scenario than any you’ve ever dealt with before,” Falcon explai
ned, trying to solidify the idea in the delegate’s mind that the smoke bombs were
a minor (and perhaps unimportant) reason for the absence of bears. He also wis
hed to convey the apparent hopelessness of their situation to him which the dele
gate seemed incapable of grasping.
“I know these bears are supposed to be smart in their own right but they s
till don’t measure up to people. We are still much smarter than they,” the delegat
e asserted confidently.
Falcon scoffed, “They’re sure beating the pants off us so far!”
“Shut up! I’ve got three men dead because of those goddamned creatures
and one in the hospital and I don’t intend to let any of them go now,” the delegate
vowed; spitting verbal fire.
“You sound like you still won’t accept the fact that they are highly intellige
nt creatures?” Falcon probed curiously.
“Bah! I have no time for such theoretical obscurities. I’m a practical man.
A man of results!” the delegate shouted with his chin raised and his chest swollen
with a sudden burst of pride. “And the results I want now are to take care of thes
e animals—for good!” he hurled, becoming so puffed up over himself he looked li
ke a mating grouse.
 “You mean you don’t believe these animals are different from any other cr
eatures on earth?” Falcon queried in disbelief.
“What does it matter what I think? What any of us thinks?” he replied, gla
ring in Dr. Spenser’s direction, who displayed a disgusted expression on her face.
“He’s completely hopeless,” she said. “He doesn’t believe they are what we
say they are. He and Dr. Intinman used to argue constantly over their conflicting
views on the Superspecies.”
Falcon wondered if it was worth the time and effort to try to convince this
dried-up old cynic that the animals were really as important as they were alleged
to be. He was tempted to try to convince him that the bears were better than eve
n he imagined at first with all the incredible things he’d seen them do since, and
wanted to say, in the beginning, he was a doubter too. He was tempted, but he res
isted upon closer inspection of the man’s stubborn, hollow eyes, the bovine immo
bility of his jaw and the impregnable expression of private, inward fixation on his
face.
“Animals will never be as good as man. Besides, I have a job to do and I full
y intend to see that it gets done,” said the bovine.
“But they are clever creatures,” Falcon responded hopelessly, “Surely you
must see that?”
“It is not my area of expertise to be concerned with such esoteric ideas. Le
ave that to the researchers. It’s got nothing to do with me or my work,” the deleg
ate dismissed.
“Well, that’s just great,” Falcon observed wryly, “The mindless of the world
are sent in to exterminate the last intelligent creatures on the planet.”
He glanced at Dr. Spenser who’d perked up for the first time in days, grinni
ng at this last statement. “He’s got a valid point. You need to stop taking them so
lightly. They’re beating the pants off us because of it.”
“And whose side are you on, Dr.?”
It sounded like a threat and she knew it. She knew by the way his eyes loc
ked on her instantly and his voice rang through harsh and heavy. In her own way,
though, she was fed up with his threats: “I’m not on anyone’s side except the side
of truth in this case, and I think it’s about time you realized we scientists are not j
ust chasing around studying these animals because we enjoy wasting our time.”
“Frankly, I don’t care,” the delegate stated like tribal mantra, “I’ve got a job
to do and so do you.”
“But we’re being outwitted because you’re using an old, outdated model of
the animals’ ability trying to defeat them. Can’t you see that?” Her gaze was shar
p and challenging.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get ‘em eventually, it’s just a matter of time. Animals ca
n never be as smart as humans–that’s all there is too it–and you’ll never convince
me otherwise.” He seemed very satisfied with this declaration and an air of super
iority hovered around him and every facet of his being.
“We’ll get them when we do the chemical drops from the air,” he added gin
ning in private delight.
“Just what are you planning to kill?” she pounced on him, “The bears are al
l gone!” This sobering thought disrupted the delegate’s smug confidence in a maj
or way, leaving him stupefied and silly looking. He hadn’t considered the possibil
ity of dumping the chemicals on a non-existent bear population. It had never pla
yed out that way before.
 “I don’t know,” he answered weakly, “It’ll do some good I suppose.”
“Yeah...,” Falcon growled impatiently, “...you’ll end up killing a bunch of inn
ocent creatures, not to mention every tree and plant in this area, without getting
one step closer to achieving your goal of ridding the park of nuisance bears.”
The delegate was shocked and embittered at the suggestion that his job co
uld be viewed as anything resembling pointless, and in vague and somewhat relu
ctant way recognized an even greater, related, fear that the description might be a
hundred percent accurate.
“We’ll only succeed in killing off a bunch of innocent creatures without acc
omplishing what we came here to do,” Dr. Spenser explained. “We might as well q
uit now.”
The delegate was speechless. He felt as though he’d been punched in the s
tomach with a crushing blow and struck dumb. Quit now? The worst of it was th
at he sensed she was right even though he’d never admit it. “This project has gon
e completely to hell!” he shouted irrelevantly, changing the subject and hoping to
forget the direction of his last thoughts.
“You may have to face the fact that the bears are all gone and that they’ve o
utsmarted us with something you’ll never admit they have—intelligence,” Spense
r stated firmly, enjoying the fact, for once, she really had him at a disadvantage.
“Those stupid, drooling beasts outsmart me? Never!” he said with a super
ior but faltering conviction.
“They aren’t stupid,” she responded plainly.
“It doesn’t matter. Neither am I!”
“It should. They’re making fools of us,” Falcon said, unaware that he was
mocking the delegate now.
“I don’t see what difference that makes. It isn’t over yet.”
“Unless you face the fact that these bears are capable, intelligent creatures
and a formidable opponent to your army of guns you’ll never be able to think on t
heir level or deal with them effectively. You’ll spend your days treating them like
stupid creatures and wondering all the while why they’ve gotten the better of you
when it over.” Falcon was certain at some point he would have to accept what see
med an obvious truth to everyone else: the animals were a rare breed, to be treat
ed as such. But the delegate was a stubborn man and not easily swayed no matte
r what the circumstances. He just gazed at Falcon drearily as if he were a restless
spirit mumbling in the air to himself in some long, dead language, and he might a
s well have been for all the good it was doing.
“I understand what you’re saying but I simply don’t agree,” the delegate de
clared, elusively and childishly, falling back on that mainstay sentiment of democr
atic process.
“Don’t agree with what?” Dr. Spenser said losing her temper, “That over tw
enty years of scientific research has any validity? This isn’t a high-school debate,
you know!”
She observed his face closely: struck by the cynical lines and dogged smug
ness of it. Years of hard discipline, regimentation, deprivation and oversimplified
views of the world had been required to mold that expression. Giving orders and
taking them without question. There was an ordinary man in the truest sense of
the word: a stubborn, petty, one-dimensional creature, faithful and obedient in ev
ery way to a vicious code of reasoning and a closely-shaved product of his enviro
nment. An environment where the “good” was to be measured in implementing s
trategies that descended from on high–from mysterious, shadowy figures of high
er rank and privilege whom one never met (they only existed on paper as far as h
e knew) and whose wisdom and authoritative right was never to be challenged.
Figures whose only distinguishing quality was an alleged “talent” for leadership.
He glared at her, smirking coldly and repeating, “It doesn’t matter. I don’t c
are what they are. I’m here to rid this place of their foul presence and that’s exact
ly what I intend to do.”
It also looked as if he intended to stay true to his purpose like a dog to its
master and was equally certain of doing the wrong thing purely out of habit and
dumb loyalty. She gazed at him closely, realizing (as Falcon did moments before)
how useless it was to try to reason with such an uncomplicated view of life. It wo
uld be like trying to explain to a lion why it shouldn’t leap on its prey at a time wh
en already killed meat existed in abundance or a poisonous snake why it shouldn’
t strike a helpless rabbit for no reason. His thinking was the product of Darwin’s
“survival of the fittest” theory outfitted in the fashion of popular culture and empl
oyed as a justification for every sort of human viciousness. Of the rest of the theo
ry’s meaning he had no clue, but this one phrase, “survival of the fittest” stuck in
his mind, so often quoted, which he had no clear understanding other than it bein
g the “scientific” justification for unchecked predatory behavior against every livi
ng creature on earth. “You’d better start caring,” Falcon answered firmly, “If
you ever want to find what you’re looking for.”
“You keep saying that!” the delegate shouted furiously, “What goddamned
thing is it I need to realize?”
“First, change the way you look at these animals if you ever want to figure
out where they’re hiding and, at the same time, attempt to get inside their heads
a bit and start thinking they way they do,” explained Falcon. “Next, admit they ar
e clever and adaptable creatures and have the ability to outsmart us if they need t
o.”
“And then?” the delegate ventured with a guarded curiosity.
“Then you might want to consider the possibly that the bears have comple
tely abandoned the park so you’re wasting your time.”
“Just pack up and leave, eh? Just like that! That’s your suggestion?” the de
legate chuckled at him.
“At some point you’re going to have to accept the fact that the bears have fi
gured out what you’ve been doing all along and have reacted accordingly because
of their exceptional abilities. It’s also time to realize that they’re way beyond you
r grasp by now and think about quitting. Whether they left the area because of th
e number of people in the park or because they sensed danger all around them is
really irrelevant–the fact is, they aren’t here.”
“We’re going to have to do something. Change our strategy or get the hell
out,” added Dr. Spenser.
“Or we can expand our search into the surrounding areas,” the delegate ex
plained, his face turning thoughtful in the afternoon sun. “That would be a chang
e of strategy.”
“But we’re not authorized to do that,” warned Dr. Spenser.
“Yes, we are. I looked into it last night. We’re allowed to expand the searc
h into the areas adjacent to the target location if we know the threat has moved o
ut of the immediate area.”
“I’ve never heard of such a rule. We’ve never done anything like that befor
e,” Spenser replied in disbelief.
“That’s because there’s never been a reason to before, but it does exist–tru
st me,” he stated with a rising hope.
“The only problem being you don’t know where the bears have gone,” Falc
on pointed out, still reeling from this latest revelation. “You might end up combin
g every region in Colorado.”
“Yes, that would take forever,” the delegate agreed entirely, “And I’m not wi
lling to take on such an enormous task unless we need to, though the option exist
s if it becomes necessary. In the meantime, we should get started on the air drop
s to destroy any bears left at White River.”
“What?” Dr. Spenser blurted out uncontrollably.
He gaped at her, blinking innocently.
“You want to go ahead with the drops even though we haven’t seen any be
ars in a week?” She gazed at him for a moment like a strange, exotic creature dro
pped from the sky.
“Of course, we still have a job to do,” he simply said.
Falcon growled at him, “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Y
ou want to destroy the park even though no bears exist that’ll be killed in the pro
cess?”
The delegate nodded casually.
“But we’ll only succeed in killing a bunch of innocent creatures we aren’t s
upposed to be targeting in the first place,” shrieked Dr. Spenser.
“It won’t be the first time...besides, I came here to complete a task and I m
ean to see it through no matter what,” the delegate defended himself; reminding
her, “Don’t forget, it’s your job, too.”
“My job here is finished as far as I can tell. There’s no reason for us to cont
inue if we can’t achieve our goal.”
“There still may be a few bears left...” the delegate reasoned with them, “...e
ven some we’ve managed to overlook because they’ve evaded us the entire time.
Like you said, they’re smart, they could be all around us and we’d never know it,
so we need to be sure. Besides, if we destroy the park now there’ll be no reason f
or them to come back.”
Immediately, Falcon, Skaggs and Dr. Spenser detected a fierce, partly conce
aled gleam in the delegate’s shielded eyes and realized, simultaneously, that he w
as only offering them a plausible body of excuses for why he wished to go ahead
with the chemical drops because, in reality, he had other, more devious reasons in
mind. He was attempting to hide the fact that he enjoyed the extermination part
of the job most of all. Bloodshed and destruction weren’t a nasty and unfortunat
e consequence of his assigned duties, they were in fact the main part, the gravy, a
nd the thing that made it all worthwhile.
“What are you going to tell them in Washington when they ask why you’ve
killed a bunch of unrelated species without managing to kill a single bear?” Dr. Sp
enser inquired, her voice trembling with a nausea ting sickness; hastening to add,
“And what about the environmentalists and their Congressional supporters when
they get a hold of the story? They’ll be after your head!” These last few words ca
me
out with particular relish as though she wished to witness the event for herself a
nd didn’t care if it was obvious to others.
“Huh!” The delegate sneered and turned away, shifting his gaze scornfully i
n Falcon and Skaggs’ direction without facing them directly. Privately, he delighte
d in creating this frantic and dramatic scene because it thrilled him with a profou
nd sense of excitement. Other people’s lives and emotions were merely somethin
g to be toyed with and used to one’s advantage and even, entertainment, because
that was truly what life was all about (“survival of the fittest”). He was also venti
ng some pent-up anger and frustration at the way the project had been going so f
ar and caught a sudden glimpse of himself reflected in the eyes of others–as a te
mperamental, undisciplined child. He shrank from the vision.
“Technically, you cannot go against my authority in this situation. You’re s
upposed to accept my advice on whether to continue with the extermination,” Dr.
Spenser said; still intimidated by the delegate’s overbearing personality but feeli
ng, nonetheless, an odd sense of strength in the situation and that she was within
her rights to challenge him on the matter. She was after all the leading figure on t
he scientific team.
He stared right through her as an object of no significance like those pesky
bears. Take
her advice? Hah! He would rather have her shot right then and there! She was g
etting too comfortable in her new post for his taste and he was disturbed by the r
ealization that his ability to control this woman was slipping away. Especially giv
en their precarious relationship of shared leadership between scientific investiga
tion and extermination specialty teams, each with its own specific sphere of influ
ence.
“I don’t think so. I’ve got seniority here,” the delegate answered with dism
issive, challenging deliberation that was all bluff.
“No,” she replied waving her hand through the air like a sword, hoping, psy
chologically, to be able to slice through his arrogance with the very same motion.
She backed up slightly. She was only one woman and quite outnumbered in the si
tuation, but certainly there was a chain of command and a set of professional gui
delines to follow in this situation, wasn’t there? She had been assigned to inform
the project team on the proper steps to take to produce the greatest impact on th
e bears, which, if there were no bears left, she could conceivably call off and decid
e on another course of action.
“You can’t drop chemicals on the park without my okay,” she stated firmly,
her eyes grazing across his nervously, feeling like she wanted to back up a bit mor
e but fearing it might give away her failing insides. She felt her fists clenching an
d a foreign, exhilarating feeling of resolve pulse through her slim body like a splas
h of cool water.
“How long have you been in charge of field operations?” the delegate dema
nded blithely, pointedly, and neglecting to wait for an answer informed her: “I’ve
been with this project team since the very beginning while you were just an assis
tant...”
With calm irritation Falcon interrupted, “I don’t see how this pertains to a
nything right now.”
“Butt out!” the delegate grimaced, staring him squarely in the face as Skag
gs stepped forward ready to say something in Falcon’s defense. “And you too!” th
e delegate warned, thrusting a damning finger in his face.
Skaggs glanced at Falcon for help in deciding what should be done with su
ch a rare fellow and his confusion was met with subdued resolve. There was still
the large group of hunters to worry about. Be calm, my friend, he communicated
with a look back at Skaggs; there will be time later to act, to take the proper steps,
revenge if necessary.
“Let’s get one thing straight..,” the delegate bragged so loud that echoes re
bounded in the canyons below, “...I’ve got the most seniority here and I think I kn
ow a little more about—”
“—Stop it!” Spenser screamed with a voice that rose up like a crashing wa
ve overtop of his, overwhelming and slicing through it with the surgical precision
of a sword. “You’re not going to push me around anymore!” she warned him with
the desperation of a wounded animal that had reached the limits of tolerance. He
r recoiled body and glinting black eyes conveyed her earnestness.
“From now on, you’re going to listen to me!” The way she said it was defini
tely a threat and at the same time surprisingly tactful and calm; nearly suspendin
g all retaliation.
She was a woman and the delegate had never experienced a similar proble
m with one before, at least not at work. He couldn’t browbeat her into submissio
n the way he did the other men; that was too easy. Besides, she was formally in c
harge of the scientific portion of the project and he only with the extermination p
rocess when things were running smoothly. Whether to go ahead with the chemi
cal deployment on a project that was obviously in trouble was a matter primarily
hers to resolve. He’d counted too much on making her his underling by asserting
his authority over her the entire time–a plan now that seemed to be in jeopardy–
but he was always thinking...
“Alright, listen...,” his tone giving away nothing in terms of a truce, “...why d
on’t we try reaching some sort of compromise? You stay out of my way and I’ll st
ay out of yours.”
“What did you in mind?” she cautiously replied.
“First, we need to drop the chemicals on the park right away just in case th
ere are any bears left, and if there aren’t, what harm will it do? So we kill a few d
eer, moose and mountain goats...”
Falcon clenched his fists and jaw at the same time barely able to stand wh
at he was hearing and finding it increasingly difficult to prevent himself from atta
cking this man. “Coward,” he heard himself muttering under his breath.
“I thought I told you to butt out!” the delegate turned and roared, placing h
is hand on his hip and thrusting a stiff, cursory finger at Falcon’s face. A few of th
e hunters standing behind him tensed up and rattled their rifles in an anxious ge
neral reaction to a potentially dangerous situation. Some of them had been there
during the last major standoff between the two and feared it happening again.
“He’s right,” Spenser added coarsely, “You are a coward...itching to kill the
rest of the animals in the forest when they have nothing to do with our present st
ruggle with the bears.”
“I’ve been doing this a long time,” he answered carelessly.
“So you said...” she replied impatiently, “...but that doesn’t give you the righ
t to do whatever you want.”
“We have to finish the job we came here to do, and I believe if I were to call
the Secretary’s office to get the go ahead to proceed, he would agree,” said the del
egate.
“That would mean going over my head,” she warned him, “And separating
our ranks in the field.”
“It wasn’t me who strayed from the project’s original aims.”
 She realized, sadly, that he was probably right: the Secretary would most li
kely take his side in any dispute concerning whether or not to proceed with the d
eployment and she would be disgraced in her new role as the top biological resea
rcher. She would lose everything. Still, killing a bunch of innocent creatures in th
e name of efficiency and being true to the EPA’s standard protocols seemed utterl
y inhuman, sinful even. It was a terrible dilemma for her first leadership role.
“It seems a horrible thing to kill a bunch of poor, helpless creatures for no
apparent reason. I don’t know that I can do it,” she complained feebly with her co
nfidence faltering and collapsing in one giant heap. The entire project she’d been
uncertain of herself in her new role and the circumstances by which she obtained
it, and the fact that her first test as leader had become such a major disaster rock
ed her to her very foundations. She felt responsible.
“Don’t know if you can do it?” the delegate chuckled easily and mockingly
at her. “What the hell do you think we do around here–give charity baskets to old
ladies? Wake up! What have we been doing the past ten years?”
He watched his words penetrate her already weakened defenses. She stoo
d painfully rigid. It was all she could do to keep from trembling herself into a ner
vous breakdown. Internally, he grinned. “This is not a Sunday school picnic, you
know!” he added for effect to hear the power of his words crushing the will of les
s hardened beings. “I guess maybe you’re right,” she mumb
led faintly.
“Huh? What was that?” He demanded looming over her and making her re
peat it for his own satisfaction; savoring the moment and teaching her never to d
efy him again.
Falcon was aghast; she buckled!
“I-I mean, I guess your right about the project. We should finish what we s
tarted out to do,” she uttered without looking at anyone.
The corners of the delegate’s mouth developed a noticeably gloating upwa
rd tilt; smug and condescending. He had won! Amazing himself even with the wa
y he’d snatched victory from the jaws of defeat. Little did he know, however, that
his victory had less to do with his own ability and more to do with her own insec
urities than anything else, but such minor details were of no consequence to him
–it was all about winning!
The delegate seemed very pleased and gazed upon Dr. Spenser as a refor
med child come back into the fold after a brief separation. He thought of her, in a
charitable way, as temporarily gone astray, now returned to the family and under
standing and solidarity again. Warmth returned to his normally chilly body and h
is chest swelled with a expansive sense of pride and goodwill toward her. He had,
in fact, always liked Dr. Spenser before she became such trouble to him; turning h
erself into an unspeakable creature that despised the EPA and the wisdom of its p
olicies.
Meanwhile, Falcon and Skaggs were casting dumbfounded glances back an
d forth at Matte Spenser, the delegate and each other, wondering what had just ta
ken place and if their eyes and ears had deceived them.
“Just for the record, I think it’s cruel and inhuman what we’re doing,” she s
aid in the tone of a whining child.
“Well, that’s okay, we’re not out to win any popularity contests,” the delega
te commented with crusted cynicism, “We’re here to finish a job.”
“You’re damn right, it’s cruel!” Falcon blurted out, barely aware of how viol
ently it sounded coming out. It was the release of an immense amount of built up
rage. “Dr. Spenser, are you really siding with this butcher?” he said gazing directl
y into her face. All her feelings of uncertainty and self-doubt and the precariousn
ess of her situation charged in on her at that moment: she was filling Dr. Intinma
n’s shoes...it was his team...she had been his underling for so many years and was
n’t nearly up to his level...and now she was in charge but only because he had aba
ndoned...it was a total disaster...
“I believe he’s right...” she said timidly, “...about the EPA’s general policy to
ward the park. If he goes over my head it’s very possible I’ll be outvoted and my
position could be relegated to the status of irrelevancy. What can I do?”
“That’s what you’re most concerned about? Your reputation? Your person
al career? When we’re talking about annihilating thousands of innocent creature
s and polluting this entire region for years to come!” Falcon blasted her, hurling w
ords like righteous stones. He saw the effect it was having: her face drooped, dar
kened and became flaccid with confusion and despair and her shoulders sagged;
making him think she was silently sobbing under her breath. Attacks were comin
g from all directions and she was caught in the middle with gleaming black eyes t
hat shone like shards of broken glass.
“He’s put me in a very difficult position,” she said with effort. “I’m afraid t
he Secretary would override my decision if I told him I didn’t want to use the che
micals.”
“Are you afraid of him? Morey Intinman wouldn’t have had any trouble doi
ng it,” Falcon declared and immediately regretted doing so because it opened up
all of the pitfalls of comparing individual personalities.
“He’s not here anymore.”
Not wanting to turn her into an enemy because she was more or less in sy
mpathy with his way of thinking and perhaps his only ally in the fight against the
EPA, he softened his remark, “You’re right, I’m sorry. My only point was that he w
asn’t above standing up against something he thought was wrong.”
“Yes,” she said, “Morey is a fighter.”
“What about you?”
She paused a moment to ponder if she couldn’t also be a fighter. She had d
efinitely shown some signs of it recently, but hindering her was an awareness tha
t her reputation didn’t command the respect in the department or the profession
al community that Intinman’s did, and felt way in over her head as research direc
tor in the first place, while he seemed to fill the shoes quite effortlessly. It was all
she had ever wanted and ever dreamed of to be where she was now, but the drea
m had turned quickly into a nightmare. Quicker than she could have imagined sh
e lost confidence in the moral rightness of what she was doing and found herself
the focal point of a myriad of personal struggles. In addition, she became caught
up a variety of ugly episodes of squabbling over who had the rightful claim to pro
ject authority.
She threw her hands up in the air as if to indicate her feeling of helplessne
ss, stopping abruptly when, through it all, one thought came screaming back to h
er: she was in charge of her own life above all else. She could do what she wante
d–or at least try–regardless of circumstances or personal reputation.
“You’re right,” she exhaled triumphantly as though she’d been rescued fro
m some terrible fate. “I should exercise my right to challenge the EPA, otherwise
I have no authority at all, which was, incidentally, why Dr. Intinman quit.”
 The delegate’s jaw muscles tightened and flexed like creaky docking ties.
Once again he saw his plans slipping away from him after believing them to be se
cure. She turned and looked him dead in the eye, “I’m against going forward with
the project at this time.”
This sudden change in her attitude shocked the delegate. He took a step b
ackward as though he’d been swung at, proclaiming ungraciously, “Well if it’s a w
ar you want, it’s a war you shall get!” Then stared at her with bare, stupid brutalit
y before turning on his heel and motioning for the others to follow. She watched
him disappearing over a hill with the hunters, plagued with too many internal co
nflicts to be aware of at that particular moment, and realizing it was too late to tu
rn back; a feeling that both thrilled and terrified her at the same time.
“Come on,” Falcon said grabbing her arm and pulling her forward. “Let’s g
o back to the office. You can call the Secretary from there.”
She yanked her arm free with traumatized defensiveness and followed hi
m and Skaggs to the truck a little ways behind, hanging her head.
“Jeez,” she confided, naively, “I never thought things could get so complicat
ed.”
“It’s not your fault,” Falcon said, “It doesn’t make any sense to destroy the
park when there’s nothing to be gained by it. That man’s a butcher.”
“Do you really think he enjoys what he does?”
He didn’t answer, instead, giving her a broad look that amounted to:
“Are you kidding me?”
She accepted his unspoken analysis at face value and walked beside him ta
king comfort in the fact that she had someone, anyone, to rely on. Her state of mi
nd was eminently unstable and she felt unable to trust herself.
“That rotten son-of-a—”
“I know...,” he said automatically, patting her arm, “...I’d like to, too.”

Chapter 4

Morey Intinman and Dr. James arrived in Washington after a long flight fro
m Denver during which Intinman slept and James obsessed over his inability to s
moke for five hours. He did have one cocktail to calm his nerves in the absence of
that other vice but this substitute failed to satisfy the craving that gnawed at him
throughout the entire nerve-wracking experience. He truly hated flying. Along w
ith them were Sam Bennett, Jerry Pickney and Dr. Carlin who signed on as Intinm
an’s aides and advisors for the upcoming Senate hearing. The government said h
e could bring up to ten at their expense but he didn’t feel he needed that many. T
hey were scheduled to arrive at the Senate’s Office of Administration tomorrow
morning at 8 a.m., but were presently searching for their luggage, and after that a
taxi to James’ and Carlin’s hotel from the airport. Intinman, Bennett and Pickney
had offered to put the others up at their homes, which were all located in and aro
und the downtown area, but they decided it would be best to stay at a hotel wher
e they could have some privacy and because it was all paid for courtesy of Uncle S
am. As luck would have it, the hotel wasn’t far from Intinman’s home, so conveni
ence in traveling back and forth for meals and meetings was a definite advantage.
Looking out from the window of the taxi, Intinman said, “Let’s get togethe
r for dinner later and discuss what kinds of questions they might ask and what w
e wish to say when we go in front of the Senate committee. Sam, Jerry and I will
meet you at the hotel’s restaurant around 6:00. Sound good? What’s the name of
it again?”
“The Melrose,” Dr. James replied.
“Nice place,” Intinman crooned; impressed, “Ever been to D.C. before?”
“No.”
“They say you can feel the power in the air here,” Intinman explained with
a certain cynical drama. “But all I’ve ever seen is the stench of it. In my experienc
e, the power here lies solely in the business of deception and corruption.”
Dr. James glanced at him with a curious expression. “Oh?” He was taken ab
ack slightly by this unflattering description of the nation’s capitol while out the w
indow glass, on the other side, he caught a striking glimpse of the Lincoln Memor
ial, to the left off Constitution Avenue. It looked like an overgrown mausoleum in
the late afternoon sun, which cast a soft, shadowy glow, downward sloping, acros
s the entire front of the structure. Underneath, the lawn made a lush green ocean
carrying Lincoln at its top, riding intrepidly at the helm and teeming with rows of
human figures filing in and out of the stout columns; an endless stream that playe
d in both directions.
“Yeah, I guess you could say I’ve never liked it here that much, with the exc
eption of when I first arrived. At that time, I was very much like “Mr. Smith” filled
with lofty ideals about the place. It seems silly to think of it now that I’ve grown s
o cynical. You really discover how much like predatory beasts human beings are
when you watch them struggle for power, wealth and resources in a place like thi
s,” Intinman explained gravely.
“You’re right,” agreed Dr. James, “Even in my limited experience with such
matters it amazes me how otherwise reasonable people turn into snarling beasts
when it comes to promoting their careers and livelihoods.”
“Anyway, we’ll have to show you some of the sights and get you into some
of the better spots I know. I’ve found some great restaurants here. What type of f
ood do you prefer?”
“Anything from Chinese to Mexican, as long as it’s good,” replied James.
“How about some good old American cuisine? We can go to the Capitalist
Grille. Great place. But we’ll have to call and make a reservation if you want to g
o.”
Bennett enthusiastically agreed, “I love that place. I’ll vote for that.”
“The wine selection is out of this world. Do you appreciate good wine?” In
tinman inquired hopefully.
“Love it! Red much more than white, though.”
“Perfect. Bennett and I have a special brand of merlot we’d like to introdu
ce you to then.”
“What time?”
“Say, around 8 or 8:30?”
“How about 8:00?” James suggested.
“Good.”
Intinman, Bennett and Pickney dropped the others off at the hotel and hea
ded home. Intinman got out first, saying to them before retrieving his luggage fro
m the trunk, “You know, it feels strange being back here now...like I’ve been away
such a long time. Colorado seems to have changed my whole perspective on thin
gs. I feel like a barbarian returning to storm the gates.”
“See you tonight,” Bennett laughed through the half open window, “Get so
me rest and we’ll talk later.”
“Big day tomorrow,” Intinman said over his shoulder before disappearing
behind the ivory covered gates of a brick rowhouse; struggling under the weight
of his bags.
On Bennett’s way home he crossed the Teddy Roosevelt Bridge to the Virgi
nia side of the Potomac. The orange streetlamps were already turned on along th
e river, at twilight, with crowds of tourists shuffling their way to the countless an
d varied destinations the city has to offer. Their faces lit up with the wonder of m
onument and memorial and all the other vanity of mankind that causes it to prais
e itself for its miraculous feats (and believe it is getting wiser all the time). Places,
faces and wars long since gone, but not forgotten, because mankind must never f
orget its deeds even though remembering never prevented any of history’s greate
st mistakes from being repeated again.
Once over the river he straddled the eastern border of Arlington National
Cemetery, peering out the window at the greatest memorial to the dead in Ameri
ca. If anyone ever needed an example of the barbarism of human beings, he thou
ght, all they’d need to do is take a long, hard look at the endless, insipid rows of cr
osses in this place. Men who died defending freedom; something we’re supposed
to be born with that cannot be taken away. But freedom from what?–other barba
rians in the shape of men it would seem. How sad it is to contemplate those rows
and how much sacrifice must be made to defend ourselves from our own kind; ye
t, there are still those who don’t understand why the Superspecies reacts the way
it does. I should bring them here, those senators, and give them the grand tour;
maybe then they’d understand.
He turned his face away from the window slowly and said to the driver, “O
ver there on the right...slow down...it’s just coming up–here!” He’d almost forgott
en to give the poor man directions during his brief mental lapse.
Later at the restaurant the five of them sat for a large dinner exchanging pl
easantries and passing a bottles of wine across the table; more or less keeping pa
ce with each other, spoon-for-spoon and glass-to-glass. Two bottles of the same t
ype had already found their way to good use and the scant remains of entrees an
d appetizers still littered the table. Laughter and joking took the shape of people
desperately in need of relief from the pressures of daily life, and the pressures yet
to come; and a tone of violence and escape filled in the air. So far, the conversatio
n hadn’t drifted toward any of the business at hand but seemed to consciously av
oid it, hoping a brief detour into indulgence would make it easier for them to cop
e with the burdens weighing down on all of them.
After dinner was over, Intinman who hadn’t been drinking as much as the
others, bemoaned, “Boy, we’ve sure got one hell of a road ahead of us.” The expres
sion on his face turning somber and reflective.
“Yeah,” Bennett shrugged, “Wonder what the hell they want from us?”
“I would imagine to persuade them what’s been happening to the Supersp
ecies is wrong.” “Didn’t they send you any information about the format?” In
tinman asked of Dr. James.
“Format?” he said, already feeling the brain bite of several glasses of wine
consumed too quickly. “In a way, but I didn’t finish it. It’s too long; all in legalese,”
he explained with a relaxed confidence. “But I think I got the gyst...”
“Well? Are you going to keep us in suspense all night?”
“What? You want to talk about it now?”
 “You sound surprised...,” Intinman said sharply, “...the hearing is tomorrow
morning.”He sighed, “You’re right...okay, they want us to stand up for a lengthy in
quiry into the history and nature of the Superspecies problem–giving detailed ac
counts of our personal experiences and thoughts on what should be done with th
em and so forth, and offering evidence to support our claims. I don’t think it’s an
ything to worry about, though, we just tell them what we know and believe. We’r
e one of many groups appearing before the committee to inform them on an upco
ming final decision concerning what should be done with the bears from a legisla
tive standpoint. Frankly, I’m quite intimidated. All that pomp and circumstanc
e...”
“Me too, I can’t stand public appearances. I’ve never gotten used to them e
ven though I’ve handled so many and they go with the job,” Intinman said believi
ng his time would be better spent on research than messy public addresses polis
hing the image of his employers. “So all we do is sit in front of them and answer
questions about the Superspecies? Is that it?”
“It seems so. Say, didn’t you get a briefing on what to expect?”
“Yes..,” Intinman confessed, “...but it didn’t give me much to go on. It contai
ned very little information. They told me where to report and gave me a number
to call if I had any questions.”
“And did you call?”
“It wasn’t much help. They were very busy and said they’d get back to me
later in the day but nobody ever did. Guess they were expecting me to keep tryin
g.”
“You know about as much as I do, then. I think maybe they want us to be s
urprised; want us to be unprepared and answer naturally,” James said slurring hi
s speech a bit and offering Intinman another glass who didn’t protest.
Bennett added, “I took the liberty of checking into it myself and found we
are going to be sitting before a panel of senators answering a load of questions fr
om a select group of chairpersons handling the inquiry for the review board. It’s
a sort of deposition and forum for us to offer expert opinions and advice on what
should ultimately be done with the Superspecies. Basically, Dr. James is correct.”
“What influence do we have with the panel?” Intinman asked.
“Not much when it comes right down to it. We’re only there to function as
advisors. The final decision will be made by the board and we have no control ov
er that. I think the reason they want us there in the first place is because of all th
e attention our organization’s gathered recently. They’re letting the public know
they’re considering all opinions, even those of controversial figures like us.”
Intinman proposed, “If what you say is true it sounds like it could be a moc
k forum and they already have their minds made up what they’re going to do. In
Washington drawing rooms it’s often whispered that all things in the city are pre
determined and open debates are nothing but show, which, in my experience, is b
asically true.”
The waiter came over at that moment and cleared the table, asking if anyo
ne wanted dessert. Bennett alone ordered a slice of chocolate mousse pie and a c
up of coffee before the waiter left.
“They do a lot of that here...” Intinman continued after the waiter’s swift d
eparture, “...go through all the fanfare of generating a loud public discourse that g
oes nowhere and was never meant to in the first place; just gets everyone all wor
ked up over nothing and makes everything look real “open society”-like–candid a
nd democratic–gathering a lot of public attention in the process. But the course o
f action is already pre-decided; has been from the start.”
“Well, if that’s true, we could be wasting our time,” stated James.
“Yeah, but we’d never know if something like that was going on behind the
scenes or not, that’s the hardest thing to stomach about it: the unknown. Things
of that type are always passed around in back offices and you’d have no knowled
ge of them unless you were there.”
“So, I guess we go ahead on the assumption that the invitation is legitimat
e and represents a real opportunity for us to do something for the Superspecies b
ecause we have to,
without ever knowing whether our efforts have a chance of making a difference o
r not,” Bennett summed up. Nobody protested which he took to mean ‘yes’.
“We just answer their questions and go on our merry way feeling good ab
out ourselves,” Intinman replied with a faint, cynical smile.
“Something like that. Anyway, it gives us a chance to voice our opinions in
a public forum.”
“As long as they don’t ask us where the second gunman was at the book de
pository or what’s really going at Area 51, it’ll be fine,” James said tossing back an
other gulp of wine.
“Hey, I know that!” Intinman laughed, filling his glass, “All kidding aside, th
ough, we ought to make a good show of it and our arguments should be clear and
concise.”
“And impressive. Above all, we must make an strong showing for the publi
c in case our opinions haven’t any sway with the panel. Maybe the people can infl
uence them,” suggested Dr. James.
“I took the liberty of writing down few notes on things they might ask us a
nd how we might respond,” said Pickney, “We have to answer the questions as if
we were in a courtroom speaking to a judge. The survival of the Superspecies is a
hotly contested issue right now in Congress and both houses are debating a new
bill on whether to save them. The main question is: what should be done for the
sake of everyone’s safety?” He passed an open notebook to Intinman to read.
“I’ll tell them about my idea of setting up worldwide nature preserves whe
re they can be separated from human beings and developed in isolation; then the
y can be studied in their natural habitat,” explained Intinman.
“You’ll have a hell of time trying to convince them of that,” asserted Bennet
t. “Think of the high cost and the fact that a good portion of this world’s natural r
esources would be cut off from public use.”
“Well, we can’t throw them all in cages and lock them up in a laboratory. T
here are too goddamned many of them,” he responded defensively.
“Maybe not,” answered Bennett, “But if that were the only option offered
by them what would you do?”
“You mean if the government suggested placing them in lab facilities as the
only way of preserving them? Hmmm...guess I’d take it against my better judgme
nt, though my main concern would be whether these poor, suffering animals, dev
eloped in captivity, would see their growth stunted as a result of being in such an
environment.” He glanced over their heads ponderously, craning his gaze toward
the shadowy craters of lights in the ceiling above. “Would be an awful shame, tho
ugh...but at least they’d be alive.”
“It’s incredible, us sitting here talking about something being allowed to li
ve,” Dr. James said suddenly. “Never thought I’d use that expression with referenc
e to any living creature. Most animals we merely talk about saving.”
“Well, nothing about this situation is normal,” explained Bennett.
“—And these, the most unique creatures on earth...”
“It’s a hell of a thing, choosing between extermination and stifling captivit
y,” Dr. James said gloomily, “And, the way things look now, we’ll be lucky to save th
em under any circumstances.”
“How true!” Intinman blared, scarcely realizing the volume he attained in s
aying it, and to James–changing the subject–it was beginning to rattle him: “So, yo
u’ve never seen Washington before?”
“No—why? Have I missed much?”
“Yes and no. Depends what you like. Where are you from?”
“Indiana, a small town you’ve probably never heard of. My parents immigr
ated from England a couple months before I was born and I haven’t seen much of
the world since.”
Intinman grinned with delight. “It’s nice at night.”
“What?”
“Washington. But you’ll have to judge for yourself. C’mon, let’s take a look
around and see some of the sights.”
“Yes,” said James fishing for his wallet as was his custom when dining out
with others. Intinman placed a hand over his wrist, assuring him, “Don’t worry–i
t’s all taken care of. All on my expense account, you know.”
“Would that be the expense account the company gave you?”
Intinman smiled without answering, then nodded at Pickney, the only one
in the group who wasn’t drinking. He had the bored, impatient look of someone a
cting as the only clear thinker in a crowd of drinkers. The person with unclouded
eyes viewing the tonic effect and perilous confidence it rendered its users, and th
e heights of giddy illusion it tended to catapult them; and like any group of drinke
rs, they were wary and suspicious of any non-drinkers in their presence and harb
ored a secret fear of being laughed for their silly behavior.
“Come on, Jerry,” said Intinman searching his face, “You alright?”
“Too many oysters, I think...either that or I got one that was tainted. I’ll be
fine.”
“It’s beautiful at night!” proclaimed Dr. James when they reached the open
air.
They struck a course west along Constitution Avenue, starting out at the S
upreme Court building headed toward the Capitol only a few blocks away. The fa
mous dome was lit up inside with a warm, orange glow that rose like a burning h
earth over the spilling staircases of white marble reaching midways to the lawn, a
nd here and there, along the base and roofline, lights of different colors–red, blue
and orange–added subtle accents to the imposing white edifice; making it softer
and more accessible. The entire Mall was lit up along its expanse, end to end, and
everything within reach had a dignified and subdued appearance. They sat for a
while at the edge of a reflecting pool west of the Capitol and garnered a mysterio
us sense of being in a setting where so much activity was taking place in so many
ways–and with such efficiency and decorum!
Important things were happening all around them and the static charge of
power was in the air—along with the pomposity—engulfing them like a giant, sil
ent cyclone. Misery also held a presence in every crack and crevice; the losers in
the great race, dredging up lamentable images that one necessarily accompanies
the other. Glancing around, crass images of poverty and despair could be detecte
d in fleeting snippets, faces of the long and beaten, others rushed and desperate o
f getting behind the endless charge of modern life, running out of time, fearful of l
osing their grip and getting bucked-off the system entirely–reminding one of the
grave social ills still resident in the land. It made for moments of uneasy reflectio
n in the minds of casual observers out for an evening stroll.
“What I find so amazing about Washington..,” Intinman announced with a
proud grin, “...is the variety of languages you can find strolling down the Mall on a
ny given day. French, German, Spanish and Russian can, at times, be heard in the
space of a single hour.”
“It’s like New York then?” asked Dr. James.
“Better. The Mall is tiny compared with Manhattan and you can hear it all
in a shorter span of time.”
They passed the National Gallery of Art and Bennett expressed a desire to
go inside and peruse the collection of native New Guinean art being featured ther
e.
“Sam’s into tribal art,” Intinman explained to the others, “Has been for yea
rs. How long has it been, Sam?”
“My whole life. I admire the authentic simplicity of it. The essential qualit
y of life, you might say.”
Dr. Carlin, who had been quiet most of the time, simply allowing herself to
fade to the background, suddenly declared, “I love it, too! My favorite is aborigina
l art: North American, South American, Australian, whatever.” She spoke as if she’
d been talking the entire time when, in fact, she’d said almost nothing all evening.
“Why don’t you go check out the collection with Sam and we’ll catch up wi
th you in the morning,” suggested Intinman.
“Is that okay with you?” Bennett said to her; she nodded, emphatically, add
ing, “We ought to get together tomorrow for breakfast and go over any last minut
e details.”
“When and where?” asked James.
“How ‘bout the hotel? We’ll meet you there for breakfast at 6.”
“Sounds good. See you then.”
After they disappeared inside the formidable stone structure draped in ha
nging purple banners announcing the exhibit, Intinman said to the others, “What’
d’ya say we head over to the Washington monument first?” The others nodded.
“Then to the White House and Lincoln Memorial,” said James.
“Arlington cemetery and the Smithsonian,” was Pickney.
“That’s a lot of walking. How much energy have you got?” he asked with hi
s sights set on Pickney.
“I ate a lot and you drank a lot. We need to work it off.”
“Uh-huh...alright, let’s go.”
They walked first to the great national obelisk, a suitable primer for one of
the country’s initial attempts at manufacturing heroes. A long, salt pillar of white
that punctured a permanent wound in the blackened sky above; from the ground
seemed to divide it, abruptly; encircled in lights and tiny, flapping flags adorning t
he base like a colorful ball of thread at the bottom of the world’s longest sewing n
eedle. They walked up to the front of it facing 14th Street and glanced up at the t
iny, ominous red “eyes” peering out from the pyramid-capped top. The blinking li
ghts cast a disapproving stare down at them like an inconsolable god forever mo
urning the act of creating this troublesome breed called humanity.
A brisk breeze set the flags whipping around the pillar and sent a chill thr
ough Intinman’s barely buttoned coat. “Of all the things they could come up to im
mortalize the
country’s first president they came up with this horrible monstrosity!” he chuckl
ed bitterly; followed by oddly inquisitive looks from the others.
“You sound like you don’t appreciate it?” James stated with curiosity.
“Don’t listen to me..,” Intinman apologized, “...I’m just growing cynical in m
y old age.”
“You don’t appreciate our history?”
“You say “ours” like it’s something that belongs to us,” Intinman replied sh
arply.
“It does, doesn’t it?” James responded; a bit confused.
“Just look at this obvious attempt to manufacture national heroes.” To em
phasize the point, he glanced up and down the pillar’s face with disdain. “It’s ano
ther monument to humanity’s greatness. It says how wonderfully clever human
beings think they are...we can toss up monuments, arches, pyramids and so on in
honor of our great national heroes and tackle ambitious projects, though the aver
age example of our kind is rarely great and noble–and is too often shabby, brutal
and petty. We create things that are wondrous and awe-inspiring, even though w
e ourselves are not. It would be wiser to spend our time instructing the average
person on how to be happy, great and noble rather than placing those ideals on a
pedestal for all to marvel at but never reach...”
They both gaped at him like some odd duck dropped in for a brief squawk.
“Deep,” observed Pickney, “Though, I’ve never known you to be philosophi
cal about politics before.”
“Me neither, but present circumstances have forced me into this state. Phil
osophy is the refuge of those who’ve suffered enough hardship to make them des
pair–left with no other consolation than to look for reasons for their misery,” he e
xplained in a faraway voice. “It does interest me, though, how our society fits into
the chain of history. We walk in the footsteps of our ancestors, whether we choos
e to accept it or not and, in a way, we are merely superimposed on the canvases of
the past.”
“There he goes again,” groaned Pickney.
“—And we’re too often forced to pay for its mistakes.”
“So, you don’t believe society should put up monuments and buildings for
its notable figures?” James inquired.
“What for? When I look at some of the war memorials in this town, throw
n up as testimony to the eternal human struggle for freedom and conquest, I see
nothing but the dark splotch of human failure played over and over throughout hi
story. The failure to harmonize and integrate our nature and ambitions with the
world around us and a reluctance to face the fact that preaching high ideals and p
racticing them are two different universes that have yet to collide in human exper
ience. Our lack of humility leads to brutality. The average person’s opinion of hi
mself and his fellows today is terribly distorted. We praise ourselves for living in
a highly advanced society and for being “evolved” from lower creatures, but how
advanced can we be, in any significant sense, taking into account the horrible way
s we’ve treated each other in the past?” And after pausing to reflect, he added, “I
n all honesty, I think we’re worse than any creature I know. None of them are cap
able of the mass slaughters enshrined in the memorials in this town!”
“That’s kind of a harsh for a little stroll about town, isn’t it?” Pickney decla
red in a censuring tone.
Intinman glanced at the others apologetically like he’d been shaken from a
dream; appearing kicked in the chest by Pickney’s remark while trying to express
a subject dear to him. “You’re right,” he withdrew, “I got carried away.”
“No, it’s okay,” Dr. James said excitedly, “It’s very interesting what you’re sa
ying and I believe it has some merit.” And after taking a moment, inquired, “Just o
ne thing though, do you believe the problem lies primarily in the fact that human
beings have refused to acknowledge the flaws in themselves and the society arou
nd them and instead simply glorify themselves?”
“Of course,” he replied without reservation, “That and a clear lack of humil
ity, good sense and practical wisdom.”
“Humility? You mean in a Christian sense?”
He didn’t answer right away; becoming absorbed in himself awhile. They
walked away from the great national obelisk through scads of picture-takers fien
dishly clicking their way to tourist heaven; producing scores of soon-to-be cheris
hed keepsakes and concocting thrilling descriptions of the experience for throngs
of admirers back home. They headed in the direction of the White House, up 15t
h St. to “E” Street. On the horizon, the last pale hues of sunlight were being swall
owed up by the belly of interminable earth.
“Not specifically in the Christian sense,” he uttered all of a sudden. “I don’t
believe in prostration before the will of a vengeful god. That isn’t my idea of hum
ility, it’s sacrifice–mainly of intelligence. Humility requires a bit more thought, m
ore understanding.”
“I don’t get it. You don’t believe in egotism, obviously, and you don’t believ
e in the Christian idea of humility. What do you believe?” inquired James.
“Something in-between, I suppose. You’re wrong about me, though, I’m no
t against egotism in the purest sense. To my mind, humility is a form of egotism;
self-preservation, if you will, and makes logical sense, too. We must always be hu
mble so our eyes can see clearly, both our own faults and the faults of others arou
nd us as well as the wider society we live in. But when we’re filled with nothing b
ut vain pride and become blinded to our flaws, we believe ourselves to be perfect,
and since perfection cannot be improved upon, we fail to see the destructive cour
se laid out for us by denying the truth and the meaning of our actions. Our faults
become monstrously magnified, often being misinterpreted as strengths, until th
ey engulf us in a destructive whirlwind of our own design.”
He clarified by saying, “Something between self-justifying egotism and co
mplete self-sacrifice is where I stand, avoiding the extremes.”
“So you don’t believe Washington was a great man?” Pickney asked off the
point.
“Whether he was or wasn’t is irrelevant...the fact is, he was a man, not an s
ocial tool or a god. The images of our heroes would be better served remembere
d for what they actually were, not as an exploded images of what they weren’t. A
nd heroes shouldn’t be used as values to be dropped in neat social equations that
by some mathematical wizardly add up to further evidence of our collective great
ness, as a society, a nation or a people. That’s the most grotesque and pretentiou
s form of egotism: collective egotism.”
 “So you don’t believe historical figures should be used to justify the greatn
ess of a nation today?” asked James.
“Of course not. History is too often used as a vehicle for collective superio
rity and vanity, especially, that ridiculous form of indulgence called national pride.
If Washington or any of his contemporaries were alive today I wonder if they wo
uld approve of the world they’re forced to lend their support to without their con
sent; all the things we’ve grown so proud of in modern society and attribute to th
eir initial steps. Perhaps they would be shocked and appalled–who knows? But t
he dead, great or otherwise, shouldn’t be used to sanction the deeds of the living
or the present state of the society–ever. They lived in a vastly different time than
we do and chances are their world bore no resemblance to the world today. It’s t
he worst form of dishonesty and disrespect to lie and misrepresent them this wa
y.”
“Wow! I didn’t realize you had such strong feelings about G.W.” Pickney tau
nted him.
“Well, the current situation tends to turn a man inward,” Intinman said wit
hout responding to the jaunt.
In front of the White House a large crowd had gathered snapping pictures
and striking whimsical poses, arm-in-arm, in front of a black wrought iron fence.
The venerable old estate bore the stamp of sacred and mysterious traditions, dus
t, glorious aristocracies, harrowing voyages of discovery and heavily-bound volu
mes in walnut-covered libraries; while before it lay a great, green lawn with crisp
ly manicured grass and high hedges, some hidden from view behind stout mason
ry walls. In the air all around them, thick as oil, lurked a sticky, shadowy substan
ce, fleeting and elusive as twilight and just as unmistakable. Sovereignty. The thi
ng that ends all arguments and explodes every known concept of right and wrong
to the four winds.
“Magnificent!” sighed Intinman with genuine awe.
“Really...?” James responded; surprised.
“Huh?”
“You sound as if you truly appreciate this place,” he said with a searching g
aze.
“Why not? This is my favorite building in the entire city,” he relayed casual
ly without removing his eyes from the building’s exterior. “The crowds here are r
eally something, day or night.” And they were “something” too: people of all shap
es and sizes, nationalities and languages, rushing back and forth, snapping pictur
es and taking long, lingering, even reverent and excited gazes at the stately home
in all its squat elegance. People who seemed to be locked
in a real life film montage; appearing and disappearing out of frame at varying sp
eeds to and from invisible holes in space, springing from unknown origins, never
to return.
“I never would have guessed...I mean I’m surprised,” James muttered at a l
oss for words.
Intinman chuckled with a conscious stare. “You mean you thought I’d criti
cize this place as much as Washington’s monument?” He laughed again, this time
with a better understanding and a greater heartiness.
“I thought maybe you’d become soured on everything in this town after w
hat you’ve been through,” explained Dr. James, unbuttoning the front of his coat.
The long walk was making him hot.
 “Not exactly, I’m still able to appreciate a few things around here...,” he repl
ied pensively, “...not much, but some of it.” His downcast expression revealing it w
as indeed a little bit and that he wasn’t proud of it. “Like the simple beauty of this
house and its Georgian style of architecture, as I believe it’s called. The lines are s
o timeless and essential, so vital and true to life.” He traced the exterior shapes w
ith every word, allowing his eyes to follow the neat, crisp lines, circles and arcs.
They headed beyond the large ellipse south of the White House, up Constit
ution Avenue to Constitution Gardens then to the Lincoln Memorial and the vario
us war memorials scattered throughout West Potomac Park. Finally, across the b
ridge to Arlington National Cemetery where it was dead quiet at this hour. It mad
e for an extensive walking tour of the area around the National Mall and the wine
they consumed earlier had passed completely out of them in the pains of physical
exertion.
“What are your thoughts on Lincoln?” Pickney taunted Intinman to contin
ue voicing his appalling ideas; which he considered entertaining.
“Another one of the honored dead immortalized and foresworn against his
will to sanction the country as it stands today–and considered at least partly resp
onsible for the shape it’s taken on–and having nothing to say about it,” he replied.
“To be honest, I don’t know much about the man. Just what I’ve read in history b
ooks.”
“And what do you think of them? The history books.”
“I do believe them, though not blindly, I think history writers have a tende
ncy to exaggerate, embellish and even leave out much of the factual stuff that mig
ht taint the purity of the heroic images they are trying to create. Their main goal,
in many cases, is to develop a sense of national pride, character and identity in th
e people, not strictly to tell the truth. In their hands, historical figures can be tran
sformed into larger-than-life images that are no longer human. There’s a tendenc
y to morph them into ideal beings; gods and martyrs, not men and women, becau
se no human being could be so perfectly constructed; all so we can have somethi
ng to idolize and worship, something exemplary to bow down before and catch o
ur breath in reverence. But there’s not much difference, to my mind, between ma
nufacturing romantic figures from history and worshiping stone gods in the jungl
e. Both represent a total misunderstanding of the nature of
things as they actually are and complete indulgence in orgies of fantasy on the pa
rt of its worshipers.”
“True enough,” was Pickney’s response, “But isn’t that a form of humility i
n a sense?”
“What do you mean?”
“Bowing down before gods and idols.”
“It certainly is, but not the way I mean.”
“It’s the opposite of humility, then?” Pickney goaded him, “Worshiping and
revering heroes.”
“It’s delusion, not humility, if the true nature of those heroes is replaced by
clever character make-overs, and it’s certainly unethical on the part of historians
to exaggerate the importance of a person’s deeds in the past because the country
needs somebody to look up to.”
“The manufacture of greatness?” Pickney asked, half-grinning.
“Precisely,” was the rapid retort, “Which is no slur on Lincoln’s greatness, i
f, in fact, he was that. I don’t know and don’t care to be honest. But I resent the fa
ct that our heroes are used as proof of our collective greatness when there is noth
ing unique about us or the type of heroes our country produces–any country for t
hat matter. Besides, a glorious history isn’t enough to make the individuals of a n
ation either great or small. Only through the actions of the present do we prove,
here and now, our willingness to live up to our professed ideals.”
“What ideals are those?” Pickney asked as they were crossing the bridge o
ver to Arlington.
“You know–you’ve must’ve heard a million times before: truth, justice, free
dom, courage, unity, strength, industry, equality and the like...”
“And you don’t believe in them?” Pickney asked, stunned and amazed.
“I do, but I believe they exist mostly in the minds of people, proclaimed an
d adored like museum pieces, which our society does its best to keep that way by
placing them on pedestals and in glass cases to be admired and praised but never
experienced. As far as existing in ordinary, everyday life, ideals don’t for the most
part. More effort needs to be placed in making them an everyday reality than cre
ating false images of the ideals in the first place and asking people to strive for th
em in a society that places them out of reach, then makes living an idealistic life i
mpossible in the shabby reality of everyday existence.” Intinman hadn’t missed hi
s inquisitor’s sarcastic grin and attempt to mock him as he spoke.
“I see...” Dr. James realized suddenly. “...essentially, you are bending a critic
al eye toward the wide gap between theory and practice in our society–between
professed ideas and practiced reality.”
“Among other things...yes.”
“It makes sense to me,” he mulled over ponderously. “In fact, I’ve wondere
d about such things myself when I’m all alone, and have often asked myself if any
one else does. So many hypocrisies have become so blatant in our society we tak
e them for granted.”
“For the most part...,” Intinman continued, “...the ideas we profess to stand
for are not the ideas we put in to practice in our everyday lives. Some I already m
entioned: justice, freedom, equality and others; democratic principles, if you will
–individualism and so on. These are sacred words that tend to inspire us and giv
e fanciful wings to the fragrant speeches of our leaders and the fierce advocates o
f our way of life, but in reality, they are open to interpretation by anyone to mean
anything, and end up meaning almost nothing. They have no reality outside of th
e belief that they exist.”
“Harsh words...harsh words, ” Pickney reproached him awkwardly and wa
s genuinely appalled this time.
“Call it what you will. It’s just my opinion,” he replied casually.
“Sounds like you don’t believe in our system of government,”declared Dr. J
ames with a hint of disbelief.
“That’s an issue for another time and another place and holds much less i
mportance than the wider problem which begins with our perception of who and
what we are and what we seek to accomplish, collectively, as a people. Our syste
m of government is a merely a reflection of how we view our unified purpose on t
he planet.”
“Which is?” Pickney urged him, with glowing eyes; clear and fierce.
“That’s too tough of an issue to tackle all at once and would take hours of
discussion to do justice to. Instead, let me give you a few examples to attempt to i
llustrate what I mean. Take, for instance, the thing you just mentioned...,” he said
nodding to James, “...our system of government–the representative democracy–a
wonderful example of something that works in theory but not in practice.”
They were just passing the long rows of graves at Arlington, lit up in the sif
ting moonlight, out of whose somber white rows the voices of the dead seemed to
whisper in the ears of passerby lessons learned long ago but no longer transmuta
ble to the ears of the living deaf. “Never again”, “Never again” they were chanting,
faintly, but with a persistence as willful as life itself and as subtle as a trickle of w
ater. Meanwhile, late night strollers heading the other direction were speaking in
hushed voices as they passed; wearing expressions of mournful reverence, their
minds fueled by the last wishes of fallen relatives, friends and strangers forever c
hasing a stolen future.
The cemetery was closed, so they skirted along the edges trying to catch a
s much of a glimpse of the inside as possible. The partly reflected surfaces of tiny
headstones, tall mausoleums, and giant pillars winked back at them, haunting, ca
ptive and lonely in the darkness; aching with broken dreams.
“The theory of our democracy is, of course, that we elect our leaders to rep
resent the interests of the people in a given geographic area, but those leaders oft
en find it impossible to reconcile the interests of the majority with each and ever
y minority in the districts they’re entrusted with, so they must, at a minimum, ref
rain from violating the rights or offending either group with whatever actions the
y take; which isn’t always possible without doing nothing at all. In any case, the p
ressure constantly weighs on them to serve the interests of the majority in the fai
rest way possible without disenfranchising any particular group within their resp
ective districts when they’re sent off to their elected positions at the
state and federal levels. Isn’t that the general idea?” Intinman asked, glancing aro
und for any signs of disagreement.
“Yes, that’s it,” said Dr. James; watching him closely.
“Unfortunately–and all too commonly–these leaders find themselves in im
possible situations between their theoretical function (serving the people) and p
ractical realities (needing a constant supply of funding to win elections and supp
ort projects back home) and end up representing a small minority of people, nam
ely, those of the powerful business interests in the communities they arise from.
People seeking some sort of legal advantage they can only get by currying favor w
ith the local political leadership that holds influence over their spheres of econo
mic interest. As a result, this tiny minority of super-wealthy individuals donates l
arge sums of money to political campaigns and makes private offerings to incumb
ent leaders in order to promote their interests and, naturally, expects to get some
thing in return for these acts of generosity. Nothing given in earnest goes unpaid.
This small fraction of the community generally succeeds in obtaining the sought
after political advantage and uses it to secure economic leverage over its competi
tors. These “favors” from powerful business interests can be the deciding factor i
n making or breaking political candidates and giving businessmen the advantage
they need to succeed. It’s how power and laws are decided in almost every form
of government and ours is no exception. In fact, democracies appear to invite thi
s sort of activity by their very nature and defend it under the banner of freedom o
f expression.”
“Democracy for sale?” asked Dr. James.
“Yes–unfortunately.”
“Still, in theory it’s a beautiful idea and makes its hard for people to part w
ith, but the reality speaks for itself: it doesn’t work well in practice. Though, a lar
ge number of people do spend most their lives living almost exclusively in a theor
etical world, never facing up to the actual one all around them that overshadows
the theory. Yet another tremendous example of the wide breach between theory
and practice in our society is the general concept of freedom. What does it mean?
The freedom to do whatever you want? Wouldn’t that eventually lead to chaos a
nd isn’t that exactly what we experience today? Everyone asserting their right to
do whatever they want regardless of consequences.”
Pickney lashed out in bitter humor: “I believe Morey’s turned into a fascis
t in his old age.”
“The problem is...,” Intinman continued, ignoring the slight, “...no one seem
s to know how to use freedom responsibly or with any measure of restraint. Free
dom without responsibly leads almost inevitably to the dilemma of anyone interp
reting it to mean whatever they please because they have the “freedom” to do so,
so it appears to justify its own existence; needing no external support. Almost as
inevitable is the notion that freedom includes the right to take it away from other
s, because one person’s interpretation says so and it’s freedom of expression that
gives them the right to think that way. But, it’s just freedom without restraint or r
esponsibility. Another person claims that freedom lies in shocking and subvertin
g the very society that granted that freedom in the first place; so it becomes freed
om to destroy the idea and, in that interpretation, freedom appears vulnerable be
cause it cannot even raise an adequate defense to protect itself from its enemies.
Eventually, all roads lead to chaos because of people’s desire for unlimited interp
retations of the meaning of the term and especially from the consequences of thei
r actions; out of which they inevitably find a convenient escape from being blame
d for the mess they’ve created: freedom from responsibility and freedom from ev
en thinking about it; the ultimate goal, which ends in the destruction of all freedo
m and finally some form of mob rule or primitive fascism–what we have today.”
“What you say holds a lot of truth, though I hate to admit it,” Dr. James conf
essed. “But how strange that you should choose to attack freedom. I’ve never he
ard anyone do that before.”
“Morey’s in rare form, lately,” assured Pickney.
“Amen to that,” said Intinman heaving a large breath.
“It’s been a real eye-opening experience these last few months. But since
we’re here at this spot I feel I should offer my thoughts on the hypocritical shape
war takes on in this democratic society that will hopefully help illustrate my poin
t. Most of our numerous wars are fought for the alleged purpose of defending ou
r sacred principles overseas, so one would think when we went abroad to offer h
elp and assistance to countries in need we would carry those ideals along with us.
Unfortunately, the opposite is usually the case; we tend to violate our own princi
ples–not to mention basic human rights–for the avowed purpose of advancing th
e spread of democracy around the world.”
“I don’t understand,” muttered a wide-eyed James.

Chapter 5

They found seats along the low, stone wall paralleling Boundary road facin
g the long, stark rows of graves at Arlington. The green hills, now black with a fe
w dots of light, dipped down and rose up in the highest places, where presidents
and famous military personage were laid to rest in everlasting memory. Below th
em, cars whizzed past at odd times piercing the shroud of enveloping darkness.
“Democracies and so-called “free societies” have been historically ruthless
in pursuing the dream of progress in the world. A progress that is usually accom
plished at the advance of one race, country or continent over another and has bee
n enacted at the expense of the target group. There are many examples in both E
uropean and American history to back this up. For the British it was China, South
Africa, India and much of Africa; for the Americans, Korea, Vietnam, Central Amer
ica and all the nasty little wars in the Middle East. Bringing progress and “civiliza
tion” to other parts of the world has generally meant thrusting religion and demo
cracy upon poor and oppressed peoples; and what method have we used to convi
nce them that our lofty ideals are correct? Logic? Wisdom? Compassion? Aid? N
o–colonization, mass murder, starvation, destruction and brutal oppression. Of c
ourse the “enlightened” form of repression we use is carried out with the utmost
efficiency and sub-logical justification to the point of banning people in occupied
nations from practicing their own customs and religions for fear they might slip t
hrough our fingers; frustrating any attempt to bring them forward in democracy
and freedom. But the ends always justify the means in our world, don’t they? Th
e democratic ideal is so highly regarded by us that nothing is too great a sacrifice
to reach it, especially when other people’s heads are on the altar. The people of t
he world with their multitude of religions, histories, ways of life, customs, etc., m
ust be willing to sacrifice everything they know to our vision and whatever is req
uired to achieve that goal is acceptable because the idea is sacred—to us. If they
don’t want our way of life, well, we’ll just force it on them, because it’s for their o
wn good, anyway, according to the way we see it.”
With a touch of disgust, he added, “In a real sense we are hypocrites and ty
rants in the way we go about spreading freedom and democracy around the glob
e. We even deny nations the right to refuse our way of life if they don’t want it, as
suming they need it whether they like it or not. And to us, anything is justified as
long as it’s done for the sake of advancing the principles we hold dear. But what
do our principles really lead to? We, who violate our own professed ideals in ord
er to advance our system around the globe? We that believe everything is justifie
d in order to reach this “noble” goal. The historical record is clear enough: appall
ing human rights abuses, repression, enslavement of other peoples and, in some c
ases, even extermination have been tolerated in the effort to bring the light of pro
gress and democracy to the world.”
“Kind of like the Superspecies?” Dr. James insinuated, pointedly.
“The very same idea–domination of other creatures–only not with people
this time,” replied Intinman, glancing at him gratefully for the flash of insight. “W
e need to stop and ask ourselves what effect our efforts are having on the people
we’re trying to save with the our supposedly “enlightened” ideas. Too often, they
end up hating us and everything we stand for; viewing us as evil creatures with n
othing to offer but destruction to their way of life; a hatred that in many cases is j
ustified. And it becomes extremely difficult to convince people of our good intent
ions when their first encounters with us have been so overwhelmingly negative.”
“The worst part is we violate our own principles in pursuit of the dream,”
Dr. James commented; beginning to grasp his point.
“We do have a tendency to sacrifice our consciences for an ideal when we
arrive at the conclusion that anything is justifiable in reaching it.”
 “Especially when others are being sacrificed—” noted James.
“—So much the less pain for us,” stated Intinman cynically. “Though our d
emocracy also violates its own principles internally by believing whatever it does
represents democracy in action. In the day-to-day operation of the system we cli
ng to the false notion that whatever is enacted in the normal course of things in o
ur society must necessarily be democratic, in practice, because the society itself
wears that label, in principle. As if to say democracies never need to police thems
elves because anything enacted in a democratic society must by definition repres
ent democratic action. The society can therefore take ahold of any policy or law t
ypically found in other political systems, say fascism for example, adopt them nea
rly unchanged, and believe it is still acting according with the fundamental princi
ples it claims to believe in because it’s happened within the framework of a demo
cratic society.”
“A serious pitfall, but true, I’ve noticed that,” Dr. James agreed.
“It’s pretzel logic that goes around in circles like a dog chasing his tail.”
“You don’t believe in democracy?” Pickney gasped; he had been eyeing Inti
nman suspiciously for some time, wondering whether he should’ve allowed hims
elf to be spirited away from the EPA by this obviously misguided individual and w
ondered, off-handedly, how Matte Spenser was getting along.
“I didn’t say that,” Intinman protested sharply. “But every society has its fl
aws. We should never be afraid to look ours in the face.”
“But our country’s the best on earth!” Pickney insisted, sensing he was tal
king to someone who’d never understand.
“Says you...though, maybe you’re right,” Intinman conceded, “I don’t know
because I don’t have a ruler to measure such things–no one does! As far a quality
of life goes there are a lot of people who’ll tell you they like it just fine in Canada,
Australia, or Europe. But how do you really measure such things, anyway? Peopl
e live where they want to live and it strikes me as being too subjective a topic to b
e talking about or making bold claims about–like arguing over a favorite car or co
lor. Besides, every system has it flaws and democracy is certainly no exception. I
t isn’t a new idea that came into being in 18th century Europe, or in the U.S. or Ca
nada. It’s been around a long time, at least as far back as ancient Greek times. Pa
rt of the reason it hadn’t been implemented for so long is that people were aware
of it’s potential problems and distrustful of any system of rule by the masses. So
me of these problems our society suffers from today because it refuses to acknow
ledge any flaws in the midst of our blind faith in the idea. Rule by the majority oft
en leads to rule by mediocrity because the masses are not composed primarily of
geniuses, but people of average intelligence, a fact that’s true of any population; r
esulting in leaders that mirror the masses. It can also lead to the oppression of m
inority groups by the unchecked will of the majority and a proliferation of disord
erly, morally selfish, predatory social behavior when you throw a free market eco
nomy into the mix.”
“Some harsh indictments,” Dr. James assailed him, “But I sense you’re not c
ompletely wrong.”
“As I said before, I think our society is suffering from these ills because we
refuse to recognize it has any flaws in the first place. We blind ourselves to the fa
cts and tend to think–or at least act–as if the society were perfect in every way an
d no valid criticisms can be waged against it that hold any merit. Belief in one’s o
wn superiority and perfection, in one’s thought and action, individually or collect
ively, has got to be one of the greatest fallacies in human history and serves as an
ominous sign of approaching doom. In practice, it’s downright dangerous.”
He glanced at them with luminous eyes glowing like a preacher’s as he exp
osed them to the shattered underbelly of democracy. It didn’t have the tone of th
e gospel of the lord, as such, but something more compelling: personal conviction,
given the rare opportunity of being spoken among people who listened and unde
rstood.
The burning glow from the cemetery lamps transported Intinman outside
of himself for a moment and he reflected on the odd shapes in the shadows and h
ow they contrasted so mysteriously with the forbidding headstones. Oh! The live
s lost. The life drained! He turned to the Potomac and its serene, lapping waters,
black now in the darkness and trickling with a distorted spectrum of colors.
Contemplatively, he observed, “At some point you have to realize that what
is right, truthful or objective, is that which exists beyond all attempts to deny it; b
eyond all the theoretical nonsense. That’s the ultimate test of truth to my mind a
nd it’s typically harsh but sometimes it can be surprisingly beautiful.” “You talk lik
e a goddamned poet,” Pickney snapped at him. “But I believe you’re onto somethi
ng truly unorthodox and shockingly honest...”
“Truth isn’t dictated by convention though, at times, I wish it was, then a m
ajority of people would be intelligent and everything would be relatively okay.”
“So why do you think democracies do it?”
“What?”
“Violate their own principles in pursuit of their ideals.”
“Well...along with believing they are the most ideal system for everyone th
ey tend to deny there are any flaws in the basic premise of the system.”
“But freedom’s what really matters!” Pickney whined as a man seeing all o
f his beloved illusions come marching suddenly into the foreground of his awaren
ess and introduce themselves to a complete stranger.
“Freedom is important; but if you’re spreading the idea to others by forbid
ding them the opportunity to decide for themselves, what are you really accompli
shing? You’re nothing but a tyrant in disguise.”
“Forcing people to be free at the point of a gun?” Dr. James commented wit
h a cynical smirk.
“That’s about the size of it.”
“This is a fallacy anyway. Wars are entirely economic,” Pickney declared s
uddenly in protest. “What you’re saying is nonsense,” he added as though trying t
o explode Intinman’s arguments on impact and drive them underground.
To Pickney’s great surprise he agreed unreservedly, “You’re right, wars are
economic, morality has nothing to do with it.”
Pickney stared at him, blinking and speechless.
“If you flip it over and look at it, examining the process with a critical eye,
you find the formula is usually the same: wars are motivated by economics and a
desire as old as mankind itself: to invade another land because it has some resour
ces you want—.”
“–Or need,” Dr. James intervened.
“—to steal...uh-huh, that too...to justify wars to the public, who’ll do most o
f the sacrificing, and so warmongers can ease their own consciences as they gear
up for another mass slaughter they won’t have to fight. The reasons have to be p
ut in place at the beginning to justify all the sacrifices that must be made by the c
ommon folk; mainly their lives. In this way, morality is used as a way of selling w
ars to people who’ve already been taught that anything is justified in the pursuit
of freedom and conquest, even the temporary suspension of their liberty, the dea
ths of their young and the violation of other nation’s sovereignty. Note the heavy
contradiction: enslavement, starvation, mass murder and destruction have all be
en deemed acceptable casualties of war in America’s pursuit of bringing enlighte
ned ideas to the world. Though it’s debatable whether the warmongers who prof
it from them actually believe the moral justifications they’re selling the public or
whether they’re just disseminating reasons among them to make the forced sacri
fice more bearable. It seems to me, though it isn’t a flattering picture of the role o
f morality in society, particularly in Western society, that morality is too often use
d as a way of rationalizing and preparing people for the great sacrifices and hards
hips thrust upon them by their leaders.”
“Wow, first you attack freedom, then democracy, and now morality. What’
s next? An argument for why Hitler was the funniest man is history?” Pickney co
mplained, though the severity of his initial attacks had faded leaving only an awk
ward defiance in its place. With effort, Intinman held back a smile; he noted the c
hange in Pickney’s tone and knew he was getting under his skin gradually, unnoti
ced even to him at the moment.
They got up and began the long walk over the bridge that crossed the Poto
mac. A landscape of staid elegance opened up that greeted them with diffident gr
ace and generosity. Pausing along the Arlington Memorial bridge, about midway
across the river, they peered out over the expansive waters that every now and th
en made a noticeable splashing sound. Small craft dotted the water in front of th
em with pins of light overhead and at their sides; tiny sloops and larger, more po
werful motorboats drifting lazily along the river and idling in the breezy waterwa
y.
“I’m not against any of them...” he answered Pickney now standing beside
him.
“Huh?”
“...freedom, morality or democracy...but as a scientist I must look at everyt
hing the same way I look at my own work, critically.”
“You don’t believe human nature follows rules unlike the rest of the natura
l world?”
“No, that’s a common mistake; animals, either. We’re all part of the same c
hain of being, so to speak, subject to the same environments, challenges and natu
ral laws for the most part,” Intinman stated firmly. “When the rain falls, we all see
k shelter; animals and humans, when a fire happens we run, when someone is sh
ooting at us, we get out of the way, or attack, as the case may be–if we’re able. Th
e point is, the notion that human beings live in a world apart from the natural wo
rld is a fallacy that continues to plague and baffle us. Especially the problems tha
t arise from living in a world where we are unable to completely dissociate oursel
ves from the pressure of our surroundings, or our instinctual needs, and lock our
selves up entirely in the comfort of our heads and intellects. We also cannot diss
ociate ourselves completely from the brutal side of our nature that constantly call
s out for release despite all our clean and proper efforts to wipe away any awaren
ess of it’s existence. It continues to rear up and show itself and we have yet to fin
d an effective social outlet for it.”
“You’ve got quite a generalized view of the world–quite a overly simplistic
view of life–it seems to me,” Dr. James challenged him.
“Life is really rather simple, isn’t it? It’s only our cleverness that has made
it overcomplicated. We eat, we sleep, we live, we love, we die–anything else is jus
t embellishment. Only human beings make life so incredibly complex in countles
s ways, generally for no reason.”
“The intricate madness of the human race?” said Dr. James, wryly. “Preocc
upied with systems of efficient inefficiency!”
Intinman looked at him strangely.
“Even science is in large part about trying to explain the universe in the si
mplest possible terms, isn’t it? We talk about researchers searching for more ele
gant solutions to problems and theories that have baffled us for years and have b
ecome too complex to explain all the facts on a given topic; or too complex to be e
ven feasible. Do we not? Theories on many hotly contested issues are often so cu
mbersome they fall of their own weight, either because they’re too impractical, in
adequate or improbable to explain existing natural phenomenon. But getting bac
k to what you said about economics deciding the course of wars...you’re absolutel
y right! It would seem that economic maneuvering is the prerogative of good lea
dership in our world for those still pursuing conquest and glory; a fact hidden fro
m the eyes of the average person. Morality and politics are only the overt justific
ation for most wars, a way of convincing the public to accept the inevitable and it’
s something that continues to happen in Washington everyday.” He looked aroun
d at the buildings for dramatic effect as they walked past the Lincoln Memorial; g
hostly lit and lonely did the venerable old patriarch appear at his throne, broodin
g, perhaps, over the quality of passerby he attracted.
“Western expansion and the Christian call to subdue the earth has been r
e-packaged and remarketed by Washington PR wizards as spreading freedom an
d democracy throughout the world. The justification has changed but the metho
ds remain the same, which is why people today are so willing to accept all the wa
rs against people of other races and religions around the world.”
“Only now the machine’s more efficient,” said Pickney.
“Insidious and hypocritical’s what you mean,” James added glancing in his
direction.
“Just look at all our wars in the Middle East! Another example of a danger
ous morality being used to justify blatant acts of evil. The moral justification cove
rs up the real motivation by the powers behind it and hides the fact that the moti
vation is purely economic. Have you ever known a country to invade another und
er a certain set of moral pretenses and not take advantage of the resources once t
he country was defeated?”
His gaze met only vacant stares and silence.
“Whether the leaders of nations sounding the charge believe what they ar
e saying or not is another issue—but the goal is always the same: grab the resour
ces first, the spoils of war, and exploit them. The fact is, they say they believe it a
nd that’s typically enough to create an uproar throughout the land that sets every
thing in motion. The moral justification, namely, the enemy’s evil and the righteo
usness of our cause, is parent to the action and moves people to support wars tha
t, in the end, benefit only the wealthy and powerful. The poor are made to sacrifi
ce and shoulder most of the burden, and this comprises the only consolation the
y’ll ever get out of it, because the public rarely benefits from the resources obtain
ed thereafter.”
 “You make it sound so cheap and shabby,” Pickney assailed him; studying h
im closely, “Like beasts attacking each other in the wild.”
“Isn’t it?” Intinman replied; with eyes cold and direct. “Don’t forget we’re
animals, too. The human desire to divorce itself completely from the animal king
dom has been and continues to be one of the worst calamities in modern history.
We label, discuss, rationalize and justify the disorderly, chaotic, violent and mysti
cal side of our nature until we think we’ve got it covered up in a jar and contained
where it can no longer harm us. Something to be marveled at like a exotic pet. T
hen it springs out in some unexpected place in our minds and actions that doesn’
t appear to make any sense in our rational, orderly lives. Or it reveals itself in so
me ancient, primitive way we’ve convinced ourselves we’ve overcome: murder, sc
apegoating or mob action. We try to keep it at bay or locked in a cage the best we
can–just look, for example, at society’s confused sexual mores–with endless intell
ectual discussions and superficial emotional explorations; yet, it continues to rea
r its ugly head despite our best efforts to deny it’s existence and root it out of our
lives.”
He hastened to add, “It would take less effort and be more effective to sim
ply accept that we are animals–once and for all–with a few smatterings of intellig
ence, here and there, some attention to social decorum, and a very hazardous soc
ial device called “morality” that grants us the justification for doing unlimited har
m to others.”
“The great human folly?” Dr. James proposed; grinning as if involving hims
elf in Intinman’s conspiracy.
“It would be amusing if it weren’t so tragic,” he replied.
Pickney merely grunted loudly; unimpressed. “Hmmm. You’re against all
morality, then?”
“No, not all; just the kind that stings, puffs up your chest and gives you han
govers.”
“You’re being facetious.”
“Maybe...but that doesn’t change the fact.”
“No.” Pickney admitted.
“For the most part, morality has nothing to do with life or the problem of s
urvival as I see it, especially the kind that makes you superior to others; and it ha
s even less to do with biology. Morality is an entirely human concept. Ideas, valu
es and philosophies that make no reference to the challenges faced in the real wo
rld are useless, and they certainly have nothing to do with the realities of nature
which are completely amoral. Most of life is, in fact, as can be observed througho
ut the animal kingdom. Only when man applies his judgments do things become
“moral” and “immoral” in his mind, but most of these labels are inaccurate, when
not downright false, because they are based on individual, cultural or other biase
s.”
“True enough, what you’re saying, but do you think it’s fair to assume ther
e’s any hope for us?”
“Hope? Hell! There’s always that; too many times that’s all there is,” he fu
med glumly.
They walked up 23rd Avenue to Virginia in the direction of Juarez circle wi
th the State Department building looming large in the background like a cryptic t
emple or a giant bird of prey, waiting to pounce on them. It was late. Infrequentl
y, people passed by on the sidewalk with shielded faces, but other than that, the s
treets were void of life. They accompanied Dr. James back to his hotel where Inti
nman and Pickney planned to take a taxi home.
“I wonder how Dr. Carlin and Bennett got along at the museum?” James sai
d at the hotel entrance. “I think I’ll check on her before I go to bed.”
“I wonder what Jack Falcon’s doing now?” Intinman pondered irrelevantly.
“Who?”
“The supervisor of White River. You met him once.”
“Yeah–the woodsy looking fellow...,” Dr. James remarked, “...tough-looking o
ld goat as I recall.”
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s quite a city. Thanks for showing it to me,” said Dr. James, reachin
g out his hand.
“The least we could do, the very least...makes a politician or philosopher o
ut of anyone, living here.”
“And philosophical thought is the last recourse of the dejected,” Pickney ad
ded.
“Well, we do have freedom of speech,” James noted dryly, “But all we seem
to do with it is discuss ideal situations that are forever out of our reach, always so
mewhere in the future, so I guess we fall into that category, too.”
A long, uncomfortable pause ensued.
“Anyway, let’s concentrate on tricking fate tomorrow...” Intinman said finall
y in parting, “...and forget how greatly the odds are stacked against us.”

Chapter 6

The following day began auspiciously. The five of them arrived at the Offic
e of Senate Hearings at 7:00 after passing through a number of security checks, id
entifications, and directions given to the appropriate chambers. After all of the re
quisite administrative functions were out of the way, they were led to a large audi
torium of high ceilings in white plaster with long rows of chestnut-colored desks
along the back of a room, while in front of them was a group of conference tables
with microphones on small stands and rows of chairs set up behind them. In fron
t of these tables sat the committee members. The raised, interlocked chairs with
high seatbacks gave them an imposing appearance like Supreme Court justices.
They were seated promptly and told to wait by an officer of the wing; the c
ommittee would appear shortly. He was a somber, sharply dressed man with ple
ading eyes and an air of chronic nervousness.
Dr. Carlin glanced around in awe, noting the grand formality of her surrou
ndings and finding herself unable to conceal a childish sense of wonder in their p
resence. Goliath Corinthian columns loomed all around like lordly sentinels, stan
ding at full attention between rooms while pale marble surfaces buttressed the lo
fty ceilings with impressive power and prominence. The table where they were s
eated appeared to be made of a thick, lacquered, cherry wood; bulky and perman
ent like the law itself, or the endurance of a nation; ever-present and inescapable.
The room had also the positive smell of library dust, or so it seemed to the five wi
de-eyed guests seated at the table.
The committee members showed up late; more than an hour late to be exa
ct, which they neglected to apologize for or even acknowledge, perhaps assuming
their positions allowed them to forego the usual formalities. They milled around
their desks, getting up, sitting down, tapping their microphones, chatting amongs
t themselves without acknowledging the presence of their guests, sending page b
oys off for coffee, newspapers, scribbling messages and innumerable, other unkn
own tasks. There was no hurry. They had cold, drawn faces that seemed impenet
rable in their personal assurance and remoteness. Scarcely once did they even gl
ance in the direction of Intinman and company and when they did it was with hea
ds tilted downward and eyes lifted and focused only briefly.
An hour and a half after they arrived all of the committee members were a
t their seats and the gathering ready to commence. Dr. James and the others had
been given water and coffee, but no food, by eager page boys sent around to see if
they had any refreshment requests during the delay. The auditorium loomed hea
vy with the thickness of sovereignty. Dr. James said aside to Intinman it was like
being in a courtroom.
After much rustling and wrangling, the first words came from the center
microphone in the long line of highback chairs that looked to have originated fro
m some northern country church in England. Simultaneously, a chorus of throat-
clearing began low and persuasive from the others seated next to the speaker as i
f to throw weight behind his sleepy utterings. This proved unnerving to Intinma
n and the others, clinching the suffocating formality of the occasion and surround
ings.
“First of all, Dr. James and Dr. Intinman..,” the speaker worked up slowly lik
e the whipping together of fresh eggs, “...I would like to welcome you here and say
it is quite an honor to have you...me, and some of the other committee members a
re very aware of your work and your importance, along with the respect you com
mand in the scientific community.”
This statement was followed by more throat clearing and thumping sound
s on the table along with static flare-ups from microphones as they were tapped a
nd breathed into from odd directions. One high-pitched squeal in particular brok
e out from the middle speaker’s microphone for which he frowned a great deal an
d sent one of his staff members running to the soundboard to fix.
“I am Senator Madden and seated next to me are my esteemed colleague
s...” he proceeded to go down the line of eight senators, introducing each one in tu
rn and they nodded with a grave formality. The senator himself was a distinguish
ed-looking gentleman with a wavy, flamboyant cusp of hair that gave him an airy
and dignified appearance, especially when he tossed his head back unexpectedly.
Perched on his large round face was a pair of horn-rimmed glasses with a long bl
ack string resting above his ears. He glanced up at intervals as he spoke, seeming
to be very engrossed in something on the desk in front of him.
When finished, the senator began again with a prelude: “You are here to as
sist us in sorting out a very serious situation facing the nation right now: determi
ning what should be done with that very controversial group of animals known a
s the Superspecies. Again, let me stress what a honor it is to have you here and w
hat a invaluable contribution you are making to the enlightenment of this commit
tee,” he fawned absently.
The senator faced him and tried to manage a full grin on his well-worn, pe
rmanently exhausted face that was like a smile drawn on a child’s picture; slanted
and incongruous. Intinman returned the kindness in a way he never remembere
d smiling before: without joy or reason; just a formality.
“Thank you,” said Intinman awkwardly in the microphone before him. Aw
kward because the sound of his own amplified voice surprised him when he first
heard it; it was so unexpected. “I only hope we can be of some assistance in infor
ming this committee.”
“Dr. James...” the senator addressed him, “...your now famous speech has be
en published in just about every newspaper in the land and has been broadcast a
gain and again on every network. You’ve become a bona fide celebrity linked to t
he cause of saving the Superspecies which is why you’ve been asked here to be a
spokesman for them...we’ve also been made aware that you are presently teamed
up with Dr. Intinman in an organization designed to further that cause.” Dr. J
ames nodded. “Yes, senator, that is correct.”
“Then let us proceed with the inquest,” the senator replied; adding, “We ar
e also aware, Dr. Intinman, of your recent departure from the EPA where you repo
rtedly had some disagreements with that organization’s handling of the Superspe
cies problem. Let me assure you that none of what happened there will have any
influence on these proceedings–and there will be no prejudice held against you, i
n this forum, due to your present criminal status in the eyes of that federal agenc
y. This committee is autonomous.”
He gazed at Intinman with a shallow glint in his eyes that came across like
a silent warning. It even seemed to him that the corners of the senator’s lips turn
ed upward slightly when he was finished, gloating faintly and mischievously, as w
ith the knowledge that he had some controlling power over the famous scientist.
Why had he even brought it up, wondered Intinman, if not to notify him his secret
was out and put him on guard?
“Thank you, senator Madden,” Intinman replied, sensing a phantom hand g
rasping his throat. “It was an unfortunate situation all the around...and one I cert
ainly regret.”
The senator sniffed and cleared his throat without looking up from the des
k, preferring to let the uneasy silence speak for itself; a tactic he used often. The
other senators rustled in their chairs, uncomfortably, coughing and otherwise per
forming stiff and laborious writhings, evidently trying to relieve a chronic tension.

“Let us proceed then,” the senator proclaimed autocratically. “I’ll get right
to the point in saying that there are valid arguments on both sides of the issue co
ncerning whether this species should be preserved or not, which doesn’t help in
making our decision any easier. It’s clear they are dangerous creatures with a lon
g history of committing violent and deliberate attacks on human beings. On the o
ther hand, we recognize through the work of Dr. Intinman and others that they ar
e unique and important animals; that if they weren’t so violent they would surely
be eligible for protected species status under the law. But the government’s polic
y up to this point has been nothing short of Draconian and has been carried out
with complete disregard for life and property, as a result, Dr. Intinman has felt it n
ecessary to abandon his post at the EPA prematurely. The issue has also raised gr
eat concerns among environmental and animal rights groups seeking a humane o
utcome to the situation. Understand, the problem is a difficult one and it’s the sw
orn duty of this investigative body and its esteemed staff to discern and develop a
workable solution for all.”
The senator’s voice dropped to a deep, rolling cadence mingled with occas
ional trilling sounds of emphasis. “It is your expertise we are calling upon to guid
e us in hammering out the final decisions. There is a bill is up for debate right no
w in the House of Representatives that focuses on whether to save the Superspeci
es from destruction. Your input is needed to inform and influence the direction o
f that particular bill. Understand that it’s merely a fact-finding mission at this sta
ge of the game and all the final details won’t be ironed out until the very end. Thi
ngs such as what to do with the animals if they are preserved has yet to be deter
mined. You are being asked to offer your insights on that specific problem and yo
ur comments may succeed in helping us draft the final content of the bill.”
The senator glanced up, suddenly, regarding them closely in a dramatic sil
ence that seemed to contain a loaded question: did they understand what was ex
pected of them?
“I understand,” Dr. James replied humbly, “I hope we can exceed your expe
ctations.”
The senator said nothing. Instead, looking up, he once again attempted th
e backwardly slanted smile which Dr. James returned awkwardly that died quickl
y.
The senator continued without missing a beat, “The bill that’ll ultimately b
e debated before both branches of Congress will decide the fate of this fascinating
species which has caused such a stir and captured the imagination of world—and
rightly so! Something on the order of which hasn’t been seen since the Scope’s ev
olution trial, at least, as the newspapers have aptly described...so, in a way, gentle
men, we walk in the footsteps of history.” To which the senator cleared his throat
stiffly, adjusted his spectacles and wisely added, “As if we didn’t no matter what w
e do!”
“History will remember us,” agreed Dr. James.
“It is a grave situation, and one not to be taken lightly as I am sure my este
emed colleagues would agree,” he said, picking up in steam. He glanced to the left
and to the right, meeting eager and diffident nods from those “esteemed colleagu
es” seated on either flank. “Deciding the fate of a rare species is not a task to be t
aken lightly. It isn’t playing God...but it’s damn close!” This time cracking a wide g
rin that appeared to derive from another source; other than complete exhaustion
and weariness of life, that is.
“Why don’t you begin, Dr. James, by giving us a quick introduction to the S
uperspecies problem...telling us your opinion of them and what course of action y
ou believe might be most beneficial to their survival. Just informally, to begin wit
h, then we can get more into detail later. We’ll interrupt you with any questions a
long the way if we need to. My colleagues and I are fairly well versed on the subje
ct already as was required to be a part of this committee. We were all briefed we
eks in advance due to the fact that the issue has gained so much notoriety lately, s
o please feel free to do your best. If there are any terms or ideas that are beyond
our present understanding we will ask you to stop and explain further. Otherwis
e, you can go as you like.”
The senator finished with an amiable flip of his hand that represented the
clipped, stylish social decorum of Washington high society. Followed by another
pallid grin.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen, I have a suggestion for the Drs.’ to begin with...” a
booming voice interrupted suddenly from a chubby-faced senator seated two per
sons to the right of senator Madden, “...we should give them some direction as to
what sort of background is needed from them, and if you don’t mind me saying so
senator, you’re giving them too much latitude. Ask the speaker to touch upon tho
se things we need to discover in this session and please have him state his qualifi
cations for the record.”
“Quite right,” stated senator Madden vigorously, “And I appreciate the sugg
estion, senator Lydell. We ought to establish some guidelines for these proceedin
gs and we do need to hear their qualifications for the record. Dr. James and Drs. I
ntinman, Bennett, Pickney and Carlin, please state your full names and backgrou
nds for the edification of this panel.”
As requested, each stated their names and qualifications in front of the co
mmittee in the order put forth by senator Madden. What schools they attended, t
heir concentrations in research, what types of positions they held at which instit
utions and for how long; how they became acquainted with the Superspecies pro
blem in the first place, and what specific research they’d conducted into the field
that qualified them to speak on the animals’ behalf. It was a “who-what-where-w
hen-why-how” situation all the way and somewhere, just out of sight, it was all be
ing captured for posterity. A transcript of the entire proceedings was being typed
for the record so nothing could be retracted, or misconstrued, later.
Afterward, Madden touched upon the points that were most vital to the co
mmittee’s interest so it might proceed making revisions to the debate surroundin
g the bill if necessary. The senator flipped through some papers on the desk in fr
ont of him and pulled out one in particular with some scribbled notes on it.
“First of all...” he commenced in the manner of a grand oratory, “...with rega
rds to the Superspecies, we require opinions from each of you–backed by the mos
t up-to-date scientific research, of course–concerning the violent tendencies of th
ese creatures: what makes them act in such a way and what can be done to stop it,
as well as what viable means are available to keep them alive if they are ultimatel
y preserved. Next, we need to hear from your professional judgment regarding w
hat can be done to save them and explain how you arrived at these conclusions. F
inally, relate any personal observations you feel might be helpful concerning real
life experiences you have had with them that may “humanize” these creatures for
us and give this committee some insight into what makes them tick.”
“Most of all, feel free to speak freely,” the senator added moments later. “Y
ou are responsible for informing this Senate committee and anything you say ma
y help us in drafting the law.”
Dr. James pulled the microphone a bit closer to his mouth creating conside
rable feedback, then quickly moved it back to its original position and glanced up
at the senator’s large round face as he spoke.
“Thank you,” he said wondering why he felt inclined to do so; probably fro
m discomfort alone. “I’ll start with the first question you asked, which concerns t
he violence of this species. What is the potential violence of these creatures? I’m
not going to lie to you by saying it isn’t great. The animals are extremely aggressi
ve toward people which is why they need to be kept away from people and peopl
e away from them. The deadly harm they are capable of causing is nothing short
of appalling! That being said, two important points should influence how we trea
t them: first, we must consider why they are so violent; the question is not a easy
one to answer because it has much to do with how one dominant species views a
nother when they’re competing for the same territory. The other point is how im
portant these animals are as a evolutionary breakthrough and what a break it is f
or science to happen upon this discovery in our time!”
Dr. James paused to take a breath after feeling his voice rising to uncouth l
evels in a subdued setting like this, where self-possession was the rule. There wa
s considerable throat-clearing and minor grunting to be heard emerging from var
ious parts of the room. A couple of the senators leaned forward and drew their st
aunch faces together with a keen patriarchal curiosity.
Dr. James restricted his voice to a wafting monotone. “Pardon me for raisi
ng my voice, senators, and please allow me elaborate on my initial statement. Th
ere have been considerable attacks on human beings and that is a unfortunate tra
gedy, both for us and for the animals. For us, it means they’re a grave and serious
threat, for them, it poses a direct threat to their survival because they are a dange
r to the most dominant species on earth. If it were not so, there would be no pro
blem; they would simply be like any other unique, aggressive animal acting on its
own behalf and qualifying for protected species status under the law. However, t
his is not the case and we have to deal with them as they are; but the reason they
are doing what they do is vital to understanding the processes they are undergoi
ng and informing our reaction to them. There is no doubt that the Superspecies v
iews and recognizes humankind as a serious threat to its existence because of ou
r destructive nature and their increased ability to perceive clear and present thre
ats to their survival–these perceptions being the natural product of an increased
awareness, hence the name: Superspecies.”
“Whether to allow these unique and fascinating creatures to live or die is a
question only for gods to answer...” Dr. James asserted with a peculiar emphasis,
“...and we are not those. But the burden of this question has been thrust upon us
with all the power of gods behind it and it is inevitably something we’ll have to fa
ce as a species. Though, if we choose to act in the way of blind self-preservation,
as mere animals protecting our territory, we are negating that reputation of civilit
y and intelligence we hold so dear that’s become the basis of our presumed super
iority over all the other beasts in the wild. In addition, I am certain, though I am
not a very good moralist, that we will do immeasurable harm to our own souls in
a way that’ll eventually play out within our own species if our intelligence teache
s us nothing more than to defend by attacking. It’ll come back to haunt us in a mil
lion different ways and work its will into all our dealings with one another. We’ll
end up destroying ourselves from the inside by accepting that means of preservin
g our existence through violence alone, instead of making adaptability and fitness
for life our aim, as our sacred credo “survival of the fittest” prescribes.”
“Dr. would you care to define the term “fitness for life”?” senator Madden r
equested is a bleak tone, “So we might be able to follow the course of your reaso
ning.” The senator adjusted his spectacles and glanced at him narrowly.
“Fitness for life–now there’s a ripe idea!” Dr. James chuckled lightly. “And
probably the single most misunderstand scientific term in history other than Ein
stein’s declaration “everything is relative”. “Fitness for life” and “survival of the fi
ttest” do not simply mean success in the competition over superficial or unnecess
ary things like social status, money or possession of unlimited gadgetry, or even e
levating one’s ego over others by petty slight, psychological craftiness or financial
advantage; but pursuing actual needs that human beings and animals require for
their happiness and survival. It means the capability to thrive in the most benefic
ial way for the whole organism–mentally, physically and spiritually. On the surfac
e, human beings appear to be the most “fit” by that standard because we have con
trol over our world and the earth along with all the creatures on it, but the conce
pt of mere survival alone applies primarily to non-thinking begins ruled exclusive
ly by instincts, which we’re only partly ruled by, the other, rare as it seems, is our
capacity for thought, compassion, understanding, logical discourse and social val
ues like justice, equality and freedom. I would have to say my personal definition
of fitness for life would be, simply put, the capacity for living life to the fullest and
a potential for the widest range of experiences available in one’s environment. F
or animals it simply means choices: having the widest variety of foods available a
nd an abundant population, but for humans it ought to mean so much more.”
“Thank you,” the senator said clearing his throat without fully comprehen
ding, and after a short puzzled pause, uttered, “Please continue.”
Dr. James nodded. “It is a tremendous responsibility thrust on mankind to
have this upstart species now beginning to encroach upon our position on earth a
nd a terrified response is certainly not without warrant, but we did nothing to ca
use this species’ emergence and therefore we should do nothing to stop it–that is
my contention! It isn’t our place to prevent the will of god or nature or whatever
you choose to believe caused this event in the first place. Deciding what to do wit
h this rapidly emerging species vying for our place on earth is perhaps the greate
st challenge mankind have ever faced outside its own fight for survival, but lying
hidden within this problem is the answer to our existence. A test of our own abili
ty to adapt; and whatever happens will reveal the soul of our species. Are we me
rely savage beasts that lash out blindly against every challenge posed to our exist
ence or are we intelligent and logical creatures? How do we react to other beings
when they develop the way we did in the early stages of our development: by ext
erminating them?” Where does that leave us, the beings who derive such satisfac
tion by reveling in our own superiority over all life on earth? Will these creatures
ultimately expose us as hypocrites to everything we believe sets us apart from th
e animal kingdom: intelligence, compassionate, reason, logic? Makes me wonder
if that’s why they’ve been sent here in the first place–as at test!”
Dr. James gazed at the long row of senators who stared back at him, foggily,
or ignored him utterly without emotion. A couple even seemed to be half-asleep,
their bodies flaccid and lax from long hours of occupying uncomfortable and stult
ifying furniture.
“They are violent toward us because we are dangerous,” he declared with
a newfound energy, “Or at least we have the tendency to become that way very ea
sily, not merely toward other creatures but our own kind as well, and the bears se
nse that in us. Their violence is a defense against us.”
He glanced at the wall of stone faces seated at the panel and wondered if A
ztec sculptures displayed greater emotion, marveling at his own caprice in the he
at of the moment. He expected some sort of reaction from them–anything!–witho
ut knowing what.
“They perceive us as enemies because we have pitted ourselves against th
em and every other species on earth, we’ve even pitted ourselves against our ow
n, strategically, in the way our society is composed of so many adversarial relatio
nships, and in so doing so we’ve turned against life itself.”
“That’s certainly a harsh indictment,” the senator protested strenuously.
“Human beings—enemies of life, Dr.?” He regarded James with severe expression
that bordered on open disapproval. “And this is why you believe the Superspecie
s is against us?”
“It is certainly central to the problem if not the whole problem, senator. In
their current stage of development, the animals can perceive nothing more than
direct threats their welfare and the habitat they live in from what Dr. Intinman tel
ls me. I get much of my understanding from him.”
“Then how would you suggest we deal with the danger these animals pose
to us?” the senator demanded while leaning to one side in order to listen to a sen
ator on his right whispering in his ear. “As rearranging our entire society to acco
mmodate them is entirely in out of the question if that’s what you’re hoping for.”
“Of course not,” said James glancing back at Intinman who seemed to be n
ear panicking from the desire to add something to the conversation. Meanwhile,
his eyes darted back and forth among the panel of senators, searching for clues to
how James’ speech was being received.
“All that’s required is for the animals to be separated from human beings f
or awhile in their own natural habitat until they can be integrated into the broad
er society at some point in the future. Keep in mind that it may take up to a hund
red years or more before we’re able to communicate with them effectively, on any
level, or coexist with them peacefully, as they are still in the infancy of their devel
opment. The human race may not even be around by the time they’re ready for t
hat particular step at the rate we’re going; the world, as we know it, may be blow
n up, or destroyed by some environmental disaster, but we must try to understan
d this phenomenon while there’s still time so we can interpret how modern-day
humans underwent their earliest development.”
“A bleak picture you paint,” the senator remarked skeptically, cracking a sly
half-grin that was best ignored out of decorum alone.
“To them we represent animosity toward life, all life, even the life that gran
ts us existence in the first place and that is the root of the Superspecies’ violent b
ehavior. They perceive the human race behaving in ways that are profoundly dest
ructive or, at least, that has been Dr. Intinman’s contention since early on; and in
answer to your request for evidence, senator, this claim is based on the latest beh
avioral research conducted by some of his closest associates: Drs. Catrell, Gottsha
lk and Fenster, who have been studying the behavioral aspect of the Superspecies
for years.”
“And you believe they ought to be separated from human beings in some w
ay? How?” the senator said shuffling some papers around in front of him out of h
abit alone and glancing left and right apprehensively at his colleagues for the bo
mb he’d dropped on them in this form of this man.
“There is no question that separating them is the key, but they cannot be st
udied in laboratories. The bears must be cordoned off from human beings in pro
tected habitats, their own separate environments, where their growth won’t be c
urbed or stunted.”
“Explain this proposed separation to my satisfaction,” the senator replied i
n exasperation; leaning forward on his elbows. “You’re claiming it wouldn’t be a
good idea to place them in laboratories. Why not?”
“Not all of them, senator. Though a few would need to be studied in a that
type of setting to understand them better and document their progress; but as Dr.
Intinman and I have agreed, it is essential for habitats to be set aside for them to l
ive. Protected environments where no human beings would be allowed, except t
he researchers, to prevent them backsliding.”
“It sounds like a reasonable proposal,” the senator replied casually, “If they
can be saved at all.” He glanced up over the top of his spectacles, sternly, with a fli
ckering gaze like a warning.
 “Yes, if,” Dr. James replied, timidly. “It would require the closing off of certa
in nature preserves within the existing national and state park system and prohib
iting access to the general public—”.
“—A not inconsiderable request,” the senator reminded him.
“––but well worth it to preserve the existence of these unique creatures,”
Dr. James argued.
The senator said nothing. He was too busy paying close attention to a priv
ate consultation being offered him by the senator on his left.
“I hope you realize that science is not the only consideration here,” the sen
ator notified him, “The issue is much more complicated than that.”
This raised a considerable uproar from the audience in the background w
ho had been ushered into the front room and upper mezzanine half an hour befor
e the beginning of the session. Loud cries were elicited from a group of obvious a
nimal rights activists to the effect of: “There is nothing more important than anim
als and the Superspecies is a top priority!” One man stood up suddenly gripping t
he balustrade in the first row and wielding an ominous finger at the senators in t
he form of a threat.
“Order, order!” senator Madden bellowed; rapping his gavel on the table a
nd forcing the man to quiet down after it looked like things might get ugly. The st
artled expression of disapproval on the senator’s face made Intinman smile faintl
y to himself, thinking it was the first time he’d seen any real emotion on the man.
“It’s a serious problem we are faced with here...” Madden began tentatively,
“...and one in which I am certain history will judge us harshly for making a mess
of. Deciding the future of a species like this one is no idle matter to be taken light
ly...I can assure you.”
His gaze flicked up over his spectacles, momentarily, as if to emphasize ho
w seriously he was treating the matter. So seriously, in fact, he was willing to alte
r his expression briefly.
“...And as you’ve stated, Dr., we are forced into the position of acting like go
ds in order to decide the future of a species. History will surely show us no merc
y if we screw this up! Extermination, if it’s the road we end up taking, will be a bl
ack mark on human history that’ll rival any of the worst crimes committed by hu
man beings against one another.”
Intinman appeared hopeful from the senator’s utterances. Maybe the narr
ow, bureaucratic mind was capable of occasional flashes of insight after all. Was i
t possible for people who spent a majority of their lives not thinking for the sake
of popularity and upholding convention to understand things in a historical conte
xt? Intinman’s eyes searched the senator’s face for some clue to his beliefs and p
erhaps some indication of the final outcome.
“More importantly,” the senator continued, “Please describe for this panel
Dr., what causes the violent behavior exhibited by these animals and what can be
done to stop it. What do you believe will curb their behavior so they can be accep
ted into our society more readily?”
“As I mentioned, senator, the root cause is the human propensity to violenc
e itself...the destructive nature of human beings and it’s manifest presence in our
society; the short-sighted pursuit of goals that end in long-term devastation. All t
hese are factors that come into play in creating the complexity of the bears’ reacti
on to us. Only in changing ourselves will they change. You said that history will j
udge us harshly for the decisions we make today, but you didn’t mention how mu
ch it will affect us if we don’t strive to do the right thing before it’s too late. The b
ears are reacting to what is essentially evil and destructive in us as earthly inhabi
tants and are doing what is natural to protect themselves. If we react by destroyi
ng them instead of changing ourselves–what’s required to alter the situation–we
are defending those evil and destructive forces in us, and not only in ourselves, b
ut the broader ones ingrained in our society.”
“Human beings are intelligent, that is undeniable. We are the most clever
animals on earth; perhaps a bit too clever for our own good at times since we will
ingly tend to outsmart ourselves by putting ourselves in difficult situations. Muc
h of our celebrated intelligence is used for nothing but destruction of the natural
world and our own kind–not even sparing our own souls in the process. It’s a cyc
lical process of indiscriminate devastation unseen anywhere else in the natural w
orld and we believe the Superspecies senses this corruption in us on an instinctu
al and conceptual level. Where we’re concerned, their reaction represents a chall
enge to the darkest side of our nature when confronted with something that resp
onds in direct opposition to it and, symbolically, we’d be standing up and defendi
ng those failings in ourselves if we exterminate them and rush to the side of the
worst in human nature.”
“You are unquestionably a masterful speaker,” the senator praised him, wi
ndily.
“Basically, I will sum up my speech by stating that the Superspecies poses
a riddle for mankind to solve, intentional or not on the part of the riddle’s origin.
The animals react according to what is dangerous in human nature as any percep
tive animal should that wants to survive; like a therapist who notices an illness in
a person’s thinking or behavior the individual has no knowledge of, reveals it to t
hem, and the sick person responds by wanting to destroy the therapist that enlig
htened him. An irrational response that’s not only an injustice against the person
who sees what they don’t and is trying to help, but against the person defending i
ts illness who might otherwise be cured with the newfound insight. If we destroy
that which comes to us in the form of a blessing in disguise, namely, the exposing
of our personal failings as a species by these remarkable creatures, a chance to ex
amine and alter our own flawed thinking, we will never have the ability to change
or adapt, which evolution requires of us at present; as ours and theirs moves for
ward in unison. Not to accept the gift would be the ultimate crime against oursel
ves, not them. It would be a triumph for all that is wrong with human nature: the
ability to discern truth from falsehood, right from wrong, strength from weaknes
s, of mind, body and soul. It would represent a victory for the destruction of the
world we inhabit and ourselves who depend on for survival, to put it in philosoph
ical terms. And it’s a clear victory for our collective self-destruction–something
we are surely headed for–lying at the root of how the Superspecies perceives us.
They don’t understand self-destruction, as such, but they do realize that somethi
ng is profoundly wrong with our approach to life; something, most likely, perceiv
ed by them as a kind of species’ deviance or insanity.”
“Damn it, Dr. Get to the point!” the senator bellowed sharply seeming inor
dinately agitated by something. “We know you want to do what you can to save y
our precious animals, but do you have to be so...so...long-winded about it?” He gl
anced at his colleagues for a moment and grasped not a single reaction from any
of them other than the usual cunning; he ignored them. Then one senator leaned
toward him and consulted briefly with the ruffled legislator.
 The senator’s manner changed instantly.
“I’m sorry, Dr., I don’t know what came over me,” the senator said recoveri
ng himself, “Senator Paulsen has reminded me that we have had other people con
firm your observations previously within this forum and that they are perfectly p
ermissible and do answer the questions I asked. Again, let me apologize for my o
utburst but I’ve never heard such an attack on our own species before, voiced so
boldly, especially in the harsh, clinical tone you’ve raised it...though, I must admit
there’s a lot of truth to what you’ve said, however disturbing it seems to me.”
Dr. James cringed with embarrassment. Perhaps, he had been talking too
much, raving like a madman or something. He blamed himself for the senator’s r
eaction with eyes that grew wide and ashamed and intensely self-conscious.
“Self-destruction is the key,” he mumbled, hesitantly, “The whole affair sho
cks me to no end and sickens me to speak about my own species that way becaus
e I’m as human as anyone else. But I’m also a scientist and for that reason I cann
ot conceal the truth from myself. Without it, I’m nothing.”
“Truth is that which exists beyond all attempts to deny it,” Intinman interv
ened in support of James, adding his own definition to the mix. He pushed the mi
crophone forward a comfortable distance in order to speak. “What is happening i
n the minds of these animals is a direct response to our behavior and the only wa
y to stop it is to strike out on the road to changing ourselves, fundamentally, from
the inside, or prevent the Superspecies from developing any further. That’s the c
hoice! If you get nothing else from what we’ve said here today at least realize tha
t their aggressive behavior is rooted in the fact that they perceive human beings a
s the principal destructive force on earth!”
“I hope you’ll excuse my impatience,” the senator said sounding completel
y bewildered. “I agree that humans are destructive but that doesn’t answer the q
uestion of what can be done to end their violent streak,” the senator demanded, a
lmost growling.
“There’s only one way,” answered Intinman; again taking the lead. “We mu
st stop initiating violence toward them...toward anything! You see, human beings
are trapped in the cycle of reacting violently toward anything feared or unknown
in life. Things unknown are automatically suspect without reason; demonstratin
g that even with our superior minds and shabby egos we are, underneath it all, n
othing but savages reacting to anything out of the ordinary with fear, violence an
d chaos.”
“Preventing our wildly destructive actions toward the fearful and unknow
n in life, I wonder if mankind will ever be capable of this?” James challenged them
openly, “Because that’s what’s required.”
James scoured their faces for some sort of understanding; something othe
r than what he’d received so far.
“Well, I don’t know. I don’t speak for all human beings. I’m just a senator,
sir...” and a moment later, “...of one nation.”
“But you can prevent the extermination of this species, and that’s a crucial
first step,” James pleaded with Intinman pressed to his side.
“That’s not entirely up to us,” explained the senator.
“I understand, but you can do whatever’s in your power to do.”
“I can–and that’s all,” he replied brightly, not entirely certain of what it me
ant.
“That’s all we ask,” Dr. James assured him, “All anyone can ask. We realize,
of course, you don’t speak for all mankind, just so long as you understand the sta
kes. Remember, everything that’s changed the face of human history has had to s
tart somewhere, originating from some primary point, working its way gradually
through the world, one step at a time, until one day, finally, everything is different.
Nothing happens quickly–except catastrophe. The best we can hope for is to isol
ate these creatures and hopefully someday be able to integrate them into the wid
er society. I don’t know how it would be possible at this stage taking into account
the overall condition of our society, but success in the future depends a lot on the
positive steps taken by us today.”
“Senator you asked, “what can be done to prevent the Superspecies from b
ecoming violent?” I can only answer you in general terms: we must cease tapping
the worst in human nature to inform our actions, individually and collectively, an
d begin drawing our inspiration from another source. Either that or resign oursel
ves to becoming the murderers of the greatest species on earth, including us, bec
ause in so doing, we’ve effectively relegated everything we are or know or could e
ver be to second class status, beneath them. Meanwhile, we’ll also need to erase t
he memory of what they once meant to us–the beings that unlocked the secrets o
f our souls we were unable, and unwilling, to face; all the darkest products of hu
man intelligence unearthed and revealed to be complex and self-perpetuating lie
s.”
“I’m, of course, not suggesting that we should be dictated solely by how ot
her species evaluate us. If it were just that, and they were wrong, it would be eas
y to cast them aside and destroy them like dogs. But, because their abilities allow
them to see us as we’re unable to see ourselves, they have become a vital link to o
ur survival at this point in history because of what can be learned from their uncl
ouded viewpoint. Again, I cannot overemphasize that destroying this species, a c
hance to view ourselves and our society with a fresh set of eyes, would be a crime
more against ourselves, our own future, brushing aside the blessing, the gift and t
he vision they bring to us, than anything else humankind has ever done.”
“A wonderful example of human beings outsmarting themselves with their
own cleverness,” Intinman contributed in a spirited tone.
“Very compelling argument, Dr. James,” the senator announced poignantly.
“With a sincerity found only on rare occasions in the most exclusive drawing roo
ms in D. C., among people expressing their private views,” he added, finishing wit
h a stylish flip of his hand like the shooing of a fly.
“I can see why your name has become synonymous with the title of Ameri
can folk hero. There’s a certain romance and poetry in your words that I truly ad
mire,” the senator described with measured emotion.
“It’s all for naught, senator, if you’ll pardon my saying so, if my words don’t
have the desired effect they’re intended to. As far as my folk hero status goes, it’s
a quaint little notion, but it’s just another passing fancy of a fickle public, subject t
o change without reason or notice. I place no stock in it at all. I am here as one h
umble voice among millions trying to save the greatest living species on earth...”
Dr. James’ eyes glowed with a distant, ghostly fervor, giving visible imager
y to the impression created by his phrases.
“Point well taken,” the senator replied briskly, shuffling more papers arou
nd in front of him, clearing his throat and adjusting his spectacles in one prodigio
us act that made Dr. James chin hang, noticeably.
“And I certainly understand what you mean by public whim. You’re lookin
g at a servant of the public from head to toe. I know its ebbs and flows well, its re
ticence and backlash, which we, in particular have to be wary of or risk losing our
jobs,” he explained, by the way.
Madden addressed the senator on his left, “Do you have any questions for
Dr. James?” The senator was a bristling, bewhiskered man with a large, patriarch
al face and an expression partly Quaker and partly modern-day politician. He inq
uired in a low, patient, fatherly tone, “Let me see if I have this straight...you’re pro
posing that nature preserves ought to be set up to separate and protect these dea
dly animals from extermination where they would be studied by you and others,
and their behavior analyzed, so that someday, they may be integrated into our so
ciety?”
“That’s correct, senator. Only you left out one thing...hopefully by that tim
e our society will have changed enough so that it accepts this and any other new
phenomenon without suspicion, with courage, instead of cringing in fear and see
king to destroy any changes that might occur.”
“Dr., you talk like a philosopher, not a biologist.”
“Thank you, senator...unfortunately, circumstances have forced me into tha
t position, and philosophy is the last resort of people in our situation. The mome
nt a person becomes philosophical, it’s a cinch he’s lost all hope in the outside wo
rld.” He uttered with a half grin that wasn’t entirely serious.
“Hopefully, you haven’t lost yours, sir,” was the senator’s reply, feeling som
ewhat daunted by the weight of the subject matter. “I just have a few questions fo
r you pertaining to the drafting of the current bill. As you know, Dr. Intinman and
you have been called before this special session of the Senate committee as exper
t witnesses, and above all else, to address the legal ramifications of drafting this n
ew bill; there are a few areas I would like to discuss in particular: first, is the DNA
research concerning what actually sets these creatures apart on a biological level
from others in their class. What specific aspects of their DNA make them differen
t enough to classify them a separate species? Legally, this is an important issue if
we are to consider them as a unique case, subject to special protection under the
law. Either of you are free to answer the question but, perhaps, it would be best t
o address this to Dr. Intinman first since he has undertaken most of the genetic re
search.”
“Of course,” said Dr. James nodding at Intinman to take the floor.
“Thank you. The DNA characteristics of these creatures are markedly disti
nct primarily in those areas that determine brain function and capacity. They als
o exhibit a more complex structure in certain regions of the cerebral cortex than
any ordinary species of bears, which is why I classified them as a separate specie
s from the beginning. The strands of DNA they possess have a series of compositi
ons I’ve never witnessed before, containing an amazing array of sequences that c
annot be found in any other animal on earth and haven’t been talked about in any
research that I’m aware of. It is mainly a process of elimination and a lack of anyt
hing to compare them to that has placed the Superspecies in a class by itself, put t
here because they cannot be put anywhere else.”
“So, in your professional opinion they can, without hesitation, be classified
as a separate and distinct species within the bear family?”
“With absolute confidence, senator, I can assure you that the Superspecies
is an extremely rare and unique breed, like nothing else on earth! However, it’s al
so important to keep in mind that the extraordinary cerebral and DNA characteri
stics they possess are exhibited only in a select group of bears that spans nearly t
he entire taxonomic family Ursidae; with examples in almost every class on earth:
there are black, brown, grizzlies, Kodiaks, sun bears and even sloth bears that po
ssess Superspecies traits to varying degrees, though not every bear within each cl
ass falls within the Superspecies strain.
“Well, being that you’re the world’s foremost expert on the phenomenon, I
guess we’ll have to trust your opinion,” said the senator glancing down the line of
congressman for approval and watching them nod in assent. “Good, then it appea
rs we’re all in agreement that they can be classified as a distinct species in their o
wn right, at least by legal definition. That gives them a slightly better chance of s
urvival than they would have without it.”
Senator Paulsen broke in again: “I have another question I’d like to ask of y
ou that’s a bit more subjective and perhaps warrants a response from each of our
guests. You suggested that establishing a plan for preserving these animals woul
d ensure their chances of survival and improve our knowledge of their process of
development but how will both species ultimately benefit from this? I realize so
me of this has been addressed already, but maybe you can explain it to us more pl
ainly and succinctly.”
“We can try,” was the response from Intinman who gazed squarely at the c
ynical, unimpressionable faces of the senatorial panel prepared to do battle, to th
e last, with this wily old bunch. “Dr. James, would you like to take this?” he said b
owing for him to take the lead in stating their mutual position.
By now, he had gotten used to the idea that James was a master of underst
anding the issues underlying the Superspecies problem and explaining them in te
rms anyone could understand, not to mention sympathize with. He had begun to
think of the younger man as his greatest disciple; surpassing even him in commu
nicating their ideas effectively to others.
“With pleasure...” he said bringing his mouth closer to the microphone and
facing the senators directly, “...there is no simpler way to describe it than to say th
eir survival depends on us and our survival depends on them. It is mutual. Natur
e herself has determined it should be that way. She has thrown this upstart speci
es into the mix, and into our lives with one central motive: to force us to stand up
and examine ourselves; the way we think, the way we live, to search the depths of
our souls, as if to say, “root out the cobwebs, the old ways are long gone; a new er
a is upon us and along with it, a brand new creature, a brand new alliance betwee
n dissimilar beings, who, at a glance, appear to be at cross-purposes but in reality
have only one purpose in mind–mutual survival”. We must stand up and face the
creature that promises to cast off the old ways forever, to shake up our world, lay
waste to our illusions, and perhaps offer up a brighter future in its place.”
“Please, doctor, keep to the point instead going off on these superfluous ta
ngents all the time,” the senator urged him, impatiently.
“The point is simple: for one to survive—all must survive. If we eliminate
them they will die and so will we, eventually, because the future that might have
been ours will be stamped out forever.”
James paused for a moment to catch his breath and dropped his face to ga
ze at the reflection on the table in front of him, propping up his shoulders on rais
ed fingertips.
“Alright, Dr. James, I appreciate what you’re saying; survival is mutual and
interdependent and exterminating the Superspecies would be a victory for all tha
t is corrupt in human nature. So, it’s all or nothing. Personally, I believe what yo
u’re saying and if it were up to me I would save the poor bastards, even taking int
o account the serious problems they pose, but the public is another story and this
is a democracy. Which means we...” he said casting a leading glance at the other s
enators, “...must obey the wishes of the public, generally speaking, however ignor
ant.”
The senator actually said “ignorant” with regard to the public which Intin
man couldn’t believe (especially since a record was being kept somewhere out of
sight) as he whispered his passing impressions in Bennett’s ear. He appeared sca
ndalized yet secretly pleased. Perhaps, the senator’s honesty would pay off for th
em somehow.
“Often times the public is wrong because it is misinformed, or it’s incapabl
e of passing judgment because it doesn’t understand the wider scope of the probl
em,” observed Dr. James.
“I take it for granted you think this is the case now,” senator Paulsen inquir
ed in a rising tone.
Dr. James nodded. “Yes.”
“Alright, that leads me to my next question. Namely, what evidence makes
you certain you know the root causes of the bears reactions to human beings? H
ow can you be certain you aren’t mistaken about their violent streak being relate
d to ours?”
“I’ll answer that one,” Intinman piped up, “The research of Drs. Catrell, Got
tshalk and Fenster supports all the reasoning behind the theory of the Superspeci
es’ reaction to human beings. Their work spearheaded the focus into the behavio
ral aspects of the bears after it was discovered they had a significant violent strea
k, teaching me a lot I didn’t know at the time. They have been performing ongoin
g investigations into the causes of the animals’ violent behavior for many years w
ith the main focus being on why the attacks weren’t generalized toward any other
creatures. The attacks have been exclusively directed at people.”
“And you believe that to be significant?” probed the senator.
“Of course. There must be a reason why they are aggressive only toward h
uman beings and not other animals. It was on that premise they launched their r
esearch in the first place, which is now universally recognized as a success.”
“And how did they arrive at the idea that the animals were reacting to the
destructive and self-destructive nature of human beings?”
“Again, quite a simple concept: the bears were subjected to clinical trials w
hereupon they experienced a wide range of human emotions, actions and behavi
ors to determine which ones caused the bears to become violent and which elicit
ed friendly responses from them, and these were all catalogued and classified exh
austively in volumes of scientific literature. The bears were wired up to probes a
nd their brains and bodies scanned for all types and levels of reactions to certain
controlled stimulus exercises performed by the researchers. The same studies w
ere also performed on non-Superspecies bears and a very different set of results
was achieved. The normal bears hardly reacted to the tests at all, as if they didn’t
understand what was happening to them.”
“Sounds all very technical,” the senator conceded. “I assume the informati
on is well-documented then? Maybe you wouldn’t mind suggesting some sources
for this committee to refer to in the future? We need to do our own independent
research into all the available evidence before arriving at any definite conclusion
s.”
“Any of the work of Drs. Catrell, Gottshalk and Fenster will do. It all pertai
ns to a body of research that has developed significantly over the years.”
“Thank you, Dr. Intinman. Being the originator of the theory it strikes me
as a daunting task raising any objections to anything you might say on the subject,
so I’ll ask you to forgive me. I’m just doing my job.”
“And what is that?” he ventured.
The answer was automatic: “Conducting an investigation.”
“Is there anything else you wish to ask me?” said Intinman stiffening his to
ne a bit.
“I believe I’ve asked all the key questions for the purposes of this committ
ee. Why don’t you take a moment to give us your personal reflections,” suggested
senator Madden.
“What good would it do? Aren’t your minds already made up?” Intinman s
napped, surprised at the impatient sound of his own voice punching through his
defenses. He gazed at them with sharp, scornful eyes; suddenly remembering ev
erything clearly: “The reason I came here in the first place is to stop the slaughter
at White River! I don’t know whether I’m free to discuss my concerns on the matt
er in this forum but I want to—I mean, I’m not sure whether it’s appropriate for t
his committee...” he rambled momentarily like a slobbering idiot. “Not
explicitly,” said senator Paulsen, seated next to Madden, the second presiding me
mber of the committee, “But you are a former EPA employee, and the foremost ex
pert in the field...” And into Madden’s ear he whispered with one hand placed ove
r the microphone, “The industry holds him in very high regard...and that sustains
a lot of weight in terms of public opinion.” The decision appeared to be made.
“Dr. Intinman, to allay your suspicions about the powers of this committee,
I will tell you that our recommendations are made directly to the senate based on
our findings here; upon which the final decisions are made. We do, of course, loo
k at both sides of the issue.”
“Of course. It’s just too bad there is another side.”
“Be that as it may...” the senator chuckled, “...what was it you wished to say
about White River?”
“Ah, White River...” Intinman sighed heavily, “...yes, I’d like to tell you about
that. I am not in charge of that particular project, not anymore, obviously; in the
past, yes, but things have changed a lot since then. Oh, the things I’ve done!” groa
ning aloud. “Looking back, it all seems like a bad dream.”
Intinman’s eyes grew wide and his body taut with a flash of passion. He sa
id one word aloud, allowing it to linger there on his tongue–to burn and take on a
shape all its own: “Extermination.”
The faces in the panel withdrew in horror as if a sweeping blow had brush
ed by them all too closely.
“—That’s the kind of policy the EPA is engaged in. A policy of wide-reachi
ng annihilation of the greatest species on earth! Nearly fifteen years I worked as
research director of the EPA’s Superspecies reclamation program, as it was called
at the time, an unassuming project launched as any other would be, inauspiciousl
y, begun strictly for the stated purpose of researching the behavior of the animals
and how it would affect the balance of nature over time. It started with the best i
ntentions, of that I won’t disagree, though everything changed when, not too long
afterward, it was discovered that the bears had a vicious streak like no other; and
we worried over what to do and struggled over the question of how these intellig
ent animals could regress into such a state of bestial behavior. During the course
of investigating this perplexing question, it became apparent that the animals’ ag
gressive actions weren’t aimed at any other animals besides human beings. Many
of our early researchers were maimed or killed trying to get close to the heart of t
he problem before the danger of getting too close was realized. They didn’t harm
anything else, so why us? Dr. Bennett and myself had our own share of close calls
during those early times.”
Intinman paused a moment to reflect without finding any consolation in t
hese memories.
“I know this panel isn’t concerned with what I know about White River or
anything I’ve done with the agency for that matter. Meanwhile, the EPA is allowe
d to keep its projects so secret I’ve violated my confidentiality agreement, and pe
rhaps compromised the sensitivity of the project, by coming here.”
“We understand the legal risks you take,” Senator Madden said genuinely i
mpressed anyone would put himself in such a position and do so with a complete
set of wits. Why didn’t he just refuse the invitation and not risk it, wondered the
senator?
“Well, what you don’t realize is that the EPA’s “research” project turned qui
ckly into full-blown extermination program just a few years into the project. It be
came a full-scale military operation without the permission of Congress or anyon
e else, under an impenetrable cloak of secrecy.”
“The EPA doesn’t answer to us,” explained one senator.
“Who does it answer to then?” Intinman asked in the tone of an accusation.
“The president alone,” came the hasty reply.
“Yes, I understand it’s a cabinet post answerable only to the president, but
I’m not certain even he knew about all the things that were going on at the time.”
Intinman glared sharply as if getting ready to drop a bomb on them, exactl
y what he was preparing to do.

Chapter 7

“Significant regions of the national and state park system along with porti
ons from the Bureau of Land Management were turned into desolate areas unabl
e to support any life, plant or animal, for years; with some of these areas being un
able to sustain life, beyond the most basic forms, for eight to ten years following c
ompletion of the EPA’s reclamation program. The environment became so toxic a
nd polluted with the array of chemicals dumped, it actually continued killing othe
r animals that wandered into the vicinity for months afterward and poisoned the
groundwater in areas of southern Arkansas and upstate New York for fifty miles a
round. I do not even think the president would have approved had he known abo
ut this. Now, the public has gotten hold of it. The thought of it! The government
poisoning its own people and destroying the environment with a species extermi
nation program deployed on a nationwide scale!–and by the agency entrusted wi
th the protection of the nation’s environment!”
“White River is to be the latest victim in the never-ending evolution of this
cold-blooded extermination program. The EPA has acquired new state-of-the-art,
military grade chemical and biological agents whose exact contents were kept se
cret from us working in research. I was told they were made especially for the up
coming project in Colorado. Prior to this, about eight years ago, the role of a spec
ial army detachment assigned to the project, grew from a small accessory task for
ce with a single role–to eliminate the Superspecies–to controlling the entire proje
ct. They called the shots, not us. In the end, I got tired of being dictated to by this
military unit and the sadistic psychos running it, and quit. But long before that, t
he project was made top-secret and I ordered to determine where the animals we
re so they could be exterminated against my will. At first, I believed in what I was
doing, I thought it was right to save my own people from a clear and obvious thre
at to their welfare, until I discovered the reasons why the animals were attacking
people and realized it was at least partly our fault. I believed that fact deserved t
o be taken into consideration, but when I approached the Secretary and told him
about it, he threatened to fire me or put me in jail if I tried to alter the course of t
he project in any way. He also said if I shared this information with anyone outsi
de the agency he would have me brought up on charges; and this happened on m
ore than one occasion. He seemed bent on carrying out his own private campaig
n against the Superspecies, hoping it they could be wiped out before anyone notic
ed their existence.”
“And you have good reason to believe these actions are taking place at Whi
te River right now?” Paulsen inquired; still uncertain how to stomach what was b
eing said.
“I have first hand information from Jack Falcon, forest director of White Ri
ver, who’s assisting the EPA’s current project there, that a similar policy of exterm
ination is being pursued there now. They are using cruel and illegal trapping met
hods to catch the bears (and not just Superspecies bears), poisoning lakes, strea
ms and fish, along with the rest of the bears’ food supply, and using chemical and
biological weapons to eliminate them, often resulting agonizing deaths for the inf
ected animals. Mind you, these methods destroy not only the bears and their foo
d supply, but the entire ecosystem as well. It’s an environmental disaster! Once y
ou’ve gazed upon a field of dead creatures after the chemicals have been droppe
d..,” Intinman struggled hoarsely, “...the dead, contorted, twisted and blood-splatte
red carcasses of all different animals as far as the eye can see; disastrous, locked i
n their final, violent death throes–and, oh, God! the smell!–it is nearly impossible
to view your own species the same way ever again. It must be similar to what the
Indians, or any person with a conscience, must’ve felt after witnessing the majest
ic herds of buffalo slaughtered so thoughtlessly in the last century. A total waste.”
“But, wasn’t it wise to react that way at first?” the senator proposed. “The
y were dangerous creatures, after all.”
“At first, maybe,” Intinman said, “But once we discovered a way of stopping
the bears from becoming aggressive and informed the EPA Secretary...no.”
“And what was the solution?” the senator inquired, curiously.
“Stop the killing. Plain and simple. Do you know that in addition to discov
ering the bears reacted violently only to people we found early on that the killing
of innocent people increased as our projects intensified? I informed the Secretar
y of this and he stonewalled me. He said to keep quiet and continue on with the p
roject as if nothing had happened. I protested and emphasized that the systemati
c aggressive activity of the project was causing a resulting increase in the bears vi
olent behavior as they responded to the direct threat to their survival; pointing o
ut that the bears were not aggressive toward any other species. This information
was considered insignificant, or a minor point, by the Secretary; an academic fact
of interest only to us, the researchers. The project would continue as planned. I r
eceived threats and written reprimands, ranging from being fired to being broug
ht up on charges for endangering a federal project.”
“The researchers and militiamen killed trying to exterminate the bears got
what they deserved as far as I’m concerned. They were guilty of trying to elimina
te a helpless and innocent animal compared with what the bears were up against.
No one could argue they didn’t have it coming to them from the animals’ perspect
ive–and it pains me to say that because I lost a good friend in the line of duty. So
meone I worked with for years was killed by a bear in the winter of ‘96 and it ma
de unforgettable impression on me at the time. Forcing me to question the entire
project; but, at the same time, I couldn’t help realizing that what we were doing w
as dangerous work, involving considerable risk, including death. I accepted it.”
Intinman rose and pressed his fingers to the table, staring the panel directl
y in the eyes: “Gentlemen and senators, White River is promising to be another di
saster if it’s allowed to become like the projects before it. Fortunately, it may not
be too late to stop it.”“Dr. Intinman, you don’t have any first hand information abo
ut what is going on at White River,” said the senator. “You haven’t actually seen th
e destruction yourself, have you?”
“No, sir, but I know the nature of the projects because I’ve worked on the
m.”
“Who is this Jack Falcon, you mentioned?”
“The forest director of White River.”
“Can we get him to appear before this committee and make a statement?
First-hand information would be a lot more helpful to us; meaning, of course, no
disrespect to your knowledge on the subject, Dr.”
“I don’t know,” Intinman replied, “I could get in touch with him and ask, bu
t from what I understand he’s been asked already. The problem is he’s still assisti
ng the project team as we speak.”
“Understood,” said senator Paulsen with a neat flip of his head. “Contact m
e after you have spoken to him and let me know. My office number will be on the
back of the materials folder you were given as you came in. Now, if you would, co
ntinue telling us to the best of your knowledge what you believe is happening at
White River. We still regard your testimony as valuable and believe this committe
e may benefit from your insight into the situation. What kinds of things have likel
y been done there so far and which haven’t, and before you answer let me just say
that I believe you’re right, the EPA has been keeping a lot of this secret from the p
resident and may have broken a few federal laws regarding disclosure, especially,
in light of the radical actions it has taken upon itself without outside consultation
and approval from its overseers. After which, we will listen to the opposing side’
s view on the subject.”
“So far, amazingly, there have been no bears killed at White River. The bea
rs have managed to elude them,” Intinman began with a note of personal glee in h
is voice.
“What?” Paulsen blurted out, “How is that possible if you said their goal w
as to exterminate these animals? How can they elude such a force of men?”
“Very simply put, the bears have outsmarted them, at least with regard to t
heir own habitat and how to use it to their advantage. On the other hand, there w
ere three EPA hunters killed in bear attacks.”
“Three hunters...killed by bears?”
 “Yes, senator.”
“A highly-trained group of men can’t handle a few bears?”
“Don’t forget these are not ordinary bears and bears are highly-intelligent,
well-equipped creatures in the first place.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means they are capable of doing things no one really knows about at th
is point; even normal bears have always had a highly-developed brain capacity wi
th above average intelligence, close to that of the chimpanzee to be exact; but no
w they are much smarter and even more dangerous, especially, under attack as th
ey are now. Why did nature chose the bear family to give rise to a new species at
this point in time? Who knows? It isn’t our place to question the will or reasonin
g of creation, it’s always been a baffling and mysterious thing. The fact is, it’s hap
pened, and there are no models to compare it to. We are groping in the dark for a
nswers like blindmen for possible meanings we can’t be sure of, running the gam
ut of what their behaviors might mean, what their growth rate is and so on; so m
any unanswered questions and there’s no frame of reference to go on.” “Doe
sn’t sound very promising,” observed the senator.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. We will find the answers, eventually. It’s just a m
atter of time. It’s simply going to be a lot more challenging, that’s all,” Intinman s
aid good-naturedly, like someone used to experiencing hardship in pursuit of goa
ls and accepting it as natural. “It is a unique situation we find ourselves in and w
e have to be able to handle it in a unique way.”
“Of course,” agreed senator Paulsen.
“The three men who were killed by bears were lured into an ambush by o
ne lone brown bear passing in front of a large group of hunters during a routine s
weep of the area. Four of them followed the bear into an enclosed area and were
quickly ambushed by four or five others that came out of nowhere and charged th
em at full speed before they had a chance to react.”
“The bears do seem incredibly violent,” said Madden with a note of concer
n.
“But don’t forget why they’re so violent,” he hastened to remind him. “The
ir violence has increased ten-fold since the EPA stepped up it’s nationwide exter
mination program, and, in the end, every animal has a right to defend itself, does
n’t it?”
“Yes, I should think so,” the senator remarked. “I still can’t believe the EPA
is undertaking this extermination campaign entirely on it’s own without official a
uthorization. It’s sheer vigilantism on their part.”
“In all honesty, I believe the director was on a personal crusade to rid the
world of the new species before anyone had a chance to do anything about it. He
mentioned on a few occasions that he was disturbed at the thought of another int
elligent being encroaching upon the domain of man and wanted to do whatever h
e could to stop them. He also knew that once the liberal democrats and environm
entalists got wind of the animals’ existence it would be too late. So he suppresse
d all knowledge of their existence as best he could and kept the extermination ca
mpaign a secret from all outside agencies; never mentioning what he was doing t
o the president.”
“How did the public find out?” the senator asked.
“A combination of things: I published my Superspecies theory paper in the
scientific journals which gained a lot of attention for them, but mostly in the scie
ntific community, not the general public. What got their attention, primarily, wer
e people in nearby towns and villages where the projects were taking place who r
eported what they saw or heard was going on at the sites. There were also a few l
eaks made to the press that the agency did everything to discredit or suppress, an
d several investigations into the polluting of groundwater near where the project
s were conducted by other federal agencies; along with the deaths of nearby ani
mal populations that sparked a series of additional inquiries. Eventually, there w
as enough credible information out there to generate larger public and private in
quiries creating a snowball effect.”
“I see, and you revealed nothing to the press, yourself?” senator Madden a
sked, curiously.
“No I was reluctant to speak to anyone about the Superspecies or the agen
cy’s internal policies until I left.”
“And now you are under investigation by the Justice Department for reveal
ing the EPA’s secrets to the public?” the senator stated.
“Yes.”
“What brought about the sudden change of heart?”
“Something immaterial called a conscience struck me like lightening bolt o
ut of the blue when I least expected it; bad enough so that personal safety and sec
urity no longer mattered–just the bears!”
“But you say they haven’t killed a single one at White River yet, so, what’s t
he problem? Maybe the bears will keep outsmarting them and none of this will
matter. How many days have they been there altogether?” asked Paulsen.
“Two and half weeks,” was Intinman’s reply. “But I wouldn’t count on the b
ears being able to elude them forever. They are smart enough, alright, but they h
aven’t the resources the EPA does.”
“Of course,” the senator replied, thoughtfully, “That is what we are trying t
o work out here, I gather.”
“The bears need legal protection to insure their legacy for scientific investi
gation and everything that can be learned from them.”
Senator Madden cleared his throat and declared evasively: “It’s possible w
e can give it to them, but again I say, it isn’t the authority of this panel to decide th
e animals’ fate on its own. Besides, we need to hear from the other side as well. S
peakers opposed to saving the Superspecies have been called to address this com
mittee, also.”
“Speakers–for extermination–here?”
The senator said nothing and gave no indication that he heard.
“So your goal is to listen to both extremes and swing one way or the other,
never considering the middle ground, the path of moderation, as an option,” rema
rked Intinman; unaware how vehemently.
“It is odd we are put in the position of deciding an animal’s future,” the sen
ator replied, wistfully, “It’s the first time human beings have ever played the role
of deciding the survival of another species with full knowledge of what they were
doing. It’s gonna be hard to avoid the extremes entirely, it being such a polarizing
issue; it’s just a shame nature has put us in that situation.”
“To be sure, nature does what it does because it does...,” Intinman declared
sharply, “...and only a fool challenges it on that basis. It represents something mo
re real than any of our idle perceptions and the world outside our minds and pers
onal biases, way beyond any and all attempts to deny it; which gives it such resili
ence in the face of personal differences and squabbles. Questioning why nature d
oes what it does is about as fruitful as attempting to contemplate why human bei
ngs have two legs instead of six or arguing over how many angels can dance on th
e head of a pin. Nature is absolute because it exists and it wishes are fulfilled wit
hout one shred of concern for human convenience, comfort or benefit–as our em
ergence on this planet stands testament, because it means none of these things to
the rest of life on earth–and now, it beckons us to rise to the occasion and deal wi
th the problem of survival of two species at odds. Exterminating the Superspecie
s now would be flagrant defiance of what nature has ordained.”
“Thank you, Dr. Intinman. That’ll be enough of the philosophical merits of
the case. We understand them. Tell us something about the chemical and biologi
cal weapons being used at White River, if you don’t mind.”
“Yes, of course, I’m sorry, I get carried away discussing this subject and ten
d to lose sight of the questions being asked of me,” he said; growing concerned ov
er his frequent and uncontrollable outbursts.
“No need to apologize, Dr. Please continue.”
“Thank you, senator,” he replied; verbally trembling a bit. “The weapons b
eing used while I was heading the project were chemical and biological nerve and
lung agents designed to cause suffocation and paralysis in the infected animals. T
hey can be sprayed from the air eliminating any threat of direct contact on the pa
rt of the hunters and are typically released in a cloud form that spreads out over
a wide area, killing all plant and animal life–everything–within a specified range.
How fast and how far the cloud spreads depends on the potency of the mixture a
nd distribution, but it can cover an area of some fifty square miles with one appli
cation when dropped in a strategic formation; requiring at least three helicopters
working together in a triangular pattern. The chemicals they’re using now have a
much stronger effect and are more efficient killers than the ones used in the past,
making it almost impossible for contaminated areas to support any life for many
years longer than their earlier counterparts. This means an area won’t be able to
support life of any kind for at least a decade, with the animals being killed much f
aster and suffering more agonizing deaths. Not to mention the effects on the loca
l groundwater and animal populations that come into contact with an area after t
he EPA’s through with it, which I’m sure is much worse. This is what the EPA con
siders progress!” “Do you know the names of any of the chemical and biologic
al agents being used?” senator Madden inquired.
“No. Like I said, it’s been kept pretty much a secret from the start. It was t
he military’s job to concoct the poisons, and I believe they used combinations of
different chemical and biological substances with varying degrees of strength to
determine which mixture had the most killing power.”
“I can’t believe the EPA has been able hide this from the world for so long,”
the senator remarked incredulously.
“The director has been pretty clever about keeping it a secret. Only a selec
t few in the department and those monitoring the EPA’s activities closely knew an
ything about it.”
“Environmental and animal rights groups?” the senator inquired.
“Yes. Some of them knew what was going on for years and circulated the i
nformation as far as their own spheres of influence would reach, but when it cam
e time to go to press they found no ready outlet waiting to receive them. The Secr
etary’s influence with the press was too strong.”
 “The EPA managed to suppress this information from going public?” gaspe
d the senator.
“Worse than that. The Secretary threatened some of the papers who said t
hey’d publish the stories, warning he’d have them brought up on federal charges f
or releasing private government information. One good example, the editor of th
e Seattle Sentinel, was a really courageous bastard who told the Secretary he was
going to press with the story no matter what he said. It took only twenty-four ho
urs and a single phone call to the newspaper’s owner to put the editor out on his
ear–fired!–just like that! A new editor, more sympathetic to the government’s co
ncerns, was instantly installed in his place after the baffled man’s departure and t
he story swiftly killed.”
“So I see,” Madden murmured, remotely. “It would appear the Secretary h
as quite a lot of explaining to do, not least of which is to the president himself. I h
ope we can count on your support in coming back and testifying as a primary wit
ness on the future investigation into this matter.”
“Of course,” Intinman grinned with delight at discovering a possible ally in
this senator called Madden.
“We will also do some looking into whether the chemicals being used at W
hite River are legal and environmentally sound,” the senator continued in winded
indignation.
“I can assure you they are not; they’re a secret military grade concoction, s
pecially formulated for the purposes of this project and you will have one heck of
a time trying to declassify their exact contents.”
“All the more reason to look into the matter,” the senator proclaimed. “If w
hat you’re saying is true, and I assure you I have no doubt that it is, then the EPA
has been acting as a renegade outfit subject to its own rules.”
“A fitting description,” replied Intinman with cautious enthusiasm, “But m
y main purpose in coming here is still to stop the extermination at White River by
appealing to this committee.”
“Perhaps we will be able to place a federal injunction on the activities goin
g on there until a full investigation can take place,” said the senator. “That’s not w
ithin our powers, it’s truly the job of the Supreme Court, but this body can make a
recommendation that it be done unless there are any objections from the other la
wmakers on this panel.” Madden’s eyes darted from senator to senator beside hi
m and, at first glance, there appeared to be no objections.
“Alright, it looks to be unan—”
Suddenly, a portly senator with a smirking expression spoke up: “I have so
mething to add if you please, senator Madden.”
“Speak up, senator Langley.”
“It’s just that asking the Supreme Court to put an injunction on what has c
ome to be a common practice in the ordinary duties of a federal agency is going t
o be rather ticklish. It’s overstepping the reaches of our authority.”
“Don’t you believe the EPA has already overstepped its reaches, if I may?
We cannot have renegade administrations running around making their own rule
s without proper restraint. What sort of governance would that be?”
“I see your point,” conceded the senator. “However, it’s highly unusual role
for us.”
“Unusual problems call for unusual responses–wouldn’t you agree, senato
r?” Madden challenged him with an open-faced gaze that appeared ready for anyt
hing. “Remember, I only said this panel would recommend that the Supreme Cou
rt place an injunction on the EPA’s activities until a full investigation can take plac
e, I didn’t say it would, or that we had any legal claim to make them do it. Howev
er, the unusual circumstances of the case I believe warrants such an attempt on o
ur part.”
“Understood, senator, and thank you for explaining it to me, I defer to your
judgment,” the portly senator said still maintaining the faint smirk Intinman coul
dn’t help wondering was congenital or acquired through long experience. He bre
athed a deep sigh of relief that senator Langley wasn’t going to raise a big stink ov
er the federal injunction; but they weren’t out of the woods yet:
“Senator Madden, I also have something to add...” spoke a very thin senato
r with hollow cheeks, an ashen complexion and frightened badger’s eyes.
“Yes, senator Lawson. What objections do wish to raise?”
“...Aren’t we jumping the gun a bit by calling on the Supreme Court to halt t
he activities of a federal agency when a decision to save or destroy the Superspec
ies hasn’t been decided yet? Wouldn’t that be sending the wrong message that th
is panel is biased toward preserving them?”
“You raise a good point, senator. However, I am concerned there may not b
e any of them left to preserve if we wait much longer. Also, the fact that the EPA a
ppears to have been acting as a law unto itself strikes me as more of a danger her
e than anything else.”
Senator Madden gazed at senator Lawson squarely with a puckered expre
ssion as if preparing for a lengthy dogfight.
“Don’t forget the long-term environmental damage caused by releasing to
o many toxic substances into the environment,” Intinman added helpfully.
“Yes...” replied Madden, “...that too.”
“I still don’t believe it’s appropriate for us to take sides when the issue has
n’t been resolved yet,” complained Lawson. “It makes the panel look biased, maki
ng our efforts at objective investigation appear compromised to those who would
question our intentions.”
“Perhaps, you’re right,” was the resigned reply; stopping Intinman’s heart
a moment and causing the bile to rise in his throat, “But I believe it’s way beyond
mere political differences at this point as Dr. Intinman has suggested; it’s at the s
pecies level...and sometimes one has to take a stand when dealing with extraordi
nary circumstances. We’re talking about the lives of a unique species that may no
t be around tomorrow if we allow the process already set in motion to continue u
ntil there’s enough time to investigate the respective merits of the case.”
“I see your point, senator. I just don’t think we should go that way at this c
rucial moment,” senator Lawson appealed.
“Let it be duly noted that senator Lawson stands in opposition to recomm
ending an injunction to the Supreme Court,” disclosed senator Madden.
“Thank you, senator.”
“I would like to say, however, that I believe the lives of this species superce
des all the standard legal formalities because of the unusual nature of the case, an
d that also should be duly noted,” said Madden.
Suddenly, a tall, striding figure flanked by two others came walking down t
he aisle cutting a path through the silent and breathless audience sitting motionl
ess and engaged in various postures of contemplation (this case being one of the
biggest, most important news events of the century; giving it an unmistakable ge
neral “presence”), to an open space where two large tables sat facing the long line
of high-backed chairs that seated the imposing panel of senators. The figure walk
ed in with a familiar limp Intinman recalled seeing before but couldn’t place at th
at particular moment.
“Ah, he’s here,” declared Madden with a tremendous sigh of relief. “I was
worried you weren’t going to show,” he explained with a quizzical adjustment of
his glasses. “Dr. Intinman, allow me to introduce you to Samuel Portwine who ha
s come before us to present his case for the opposition. Mr. Portwine is the chair
man of Humans First!, one of the largest groups in the country opposed to preser
ving the Superspecies.”
“Don’t forget I am also one of the first victims,” their new arrival announce
d gravely.
That was it! Intinman suddenly realized–ads and newspaper articles–that
was where he’d seen him before; characterizing the bears as being a threat to all
mankind and needing to be done away with before it was too late. He had, in fact,
run across the name on more than one occasion at speaking engagements where
opposing sides of the issue were making presentations to mixed audiences, but h
ad never met him before in person.
His two assistants turned out to be lawyers in accompaniment to advise a
nd consult the man on how to properly argue the case. They were efficient, cleve
r-looking men with thin-rimmed glasses, closely-cropped hair and finely tailored
suits, beige and gray, to be exact; siamese twins in manner and aspect if not in ap
pearance.
The man took a seat, appearing absolutely at ease with himself and his cha
nces of success, and Intinman couldn’t be certain, but there was nothing of the ti
mid humility he personally felt in the other man’s attitude.
“This panel wishes to inquire as to why you are late,” Senator Madden disc
losed imperiously, “It is highly unusual.” Meanwhile, he toyed with the glasses on
the tip of his nose in a gesture of effeminate vexation.
“I apologize for that, your honor..,” conceded Portwine. “...I was in need of
some immediate treatment...” To which one of the fidgety lawyers on his left whis
pered something in his ear. “Let me rephrase that...I required some emergency
medical care for the injuries I’ve suffered with for years...” (More whispering from
the squirrel-quick advisor on his left, the man of efficient legal counsel) “...and wa
s rushed to the hospital for an attack of pain in my knees. My office should have l
eft you a message.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t get that message,” the senator replied sharply; the long,
implausible explanation increasing his sense of frustration, after which there was
some whispering in his ear by the senator on his right. “Correction, my office did
get the message, but, somehow it didn’t reach me ‘til now,” he frowned; not entire
ly convinced of the credibility of his own statement. For a moment, he looked lik
e a man who’d been caught with his pants down: sullen, vulnerable and intense.
“Alright we’ll continue with the deposition,” the senator said in the tone of
a stern warning. “I take it you’re ready to proceed now?”
Portwine nodded without lifting his eyes.
The senator studied him with a look one gives someone whose involuntar
y actions have fallen under close scrutiny. He rustled the papers in front of him a
nd firmed up his jaw in a regulatory and stringent fashion; glancing about the roo
m with eyes finally coming to rest on Mr. Portwine.
 “We will follow the same format with you as the others: you’ll be allowed t
o present your most persuasive case before this committee, offering any relevant
research or independent investigations you’ve performed, personal experiences,
beliefs, suggestions, private accounts and so on; then this panel will ask pertinent
questions related to your presentation–along the lines of those asked of Dr. Intin
man and Dr. James a short while ago. You will given as much latitude as possible t
o present a case for why this panel should reject saving the Superspecies...and ext
erminate them,” he shuddered to say. “Dr. James and Dr. Intinman will, in turn, ge
t a chance to ask and respond to questions from you and you’ll be permitted to do
the same. Also, I will discuss the potential contribution your input makes to the f
ormulation of a new law under review to decide the future of these animals. Is th
at understood? Any questions? Alright, let’s begin,” the senator explained with a
certain detached formality.
And so it went for a couple hours and then some as Samuel Portwine relat
ed the tragic circumstances leading up to his life-threatening attack by a grizzly b
ear in 1987 while deer hunting alone in the woods of Montana; left unconscious,
helpless and close to death after the swift, unexpected attack; and the subsequen
t life he’d spent since trying to save others from the same fate. He lay in the fores
t all night and wasn’t recovered until the next morning by rangers passing throug
h the area on patrols who rushed him to the hospital, where they admitted never
having witnessed anything so horrible in their lives. He was fortunate to be alive.
Most of his face had been torn off and his arms, or what were once arms, only tatt
ers remained from repeated bites and maulings over thirty percent of his body. O
ne arm had to be amputated up to the elbow as well as one of his legs up to the k
nee and he walked with a permanent limp from an the artificial leg and grappled
with objects with his mechanical arm. The face itself was a patchwork of reconst
ructive surgery that despite the best attempts of cosmetic ingenuity, had a shocki
ng mask-like appearance filled with irregular caverns and uneven, discolored sect
ions one found nearly impossible to ignore.
For Intinman, Samuel Portwine represented the most difficult challenge h
e would ever face. His presence at the senate session was as compelling an argu
ment as anything ever could be, no matter how you measured it. Even if all his ar
guments and descriptions failed to convince on their merits alone, the visual imp
act of his presence was thoroughly overwhelming in effect. The poor bastard, Inti
nman couldn’t help thinking! Guilt and sadness broke up his insides without pro
vocation, crashing over him, as he suffered miserably in silence; cursing himself f
or not being stronger. He was suddenly disgusted by the products of the animals’
brutality and what it bode for their survival and his difficulty in saving them.
Portwine’s was the first recorded attack by one of the Superspecies bears,
and, at the time, became a heavily-publicized media event; however inaccurate th
e early reports may have been didn’t matter–it sold tons of papers. The story was
so much like the public’s first introduction to any new and controversial topic in
a totally mundane and uneventful existence: sensational. Biologically, there was s
till much to be learned from them, especially, why the animals began attacking hu
man beings in the first place. But the early reports didn’t focus on that, instead, t
hey were concerned with whether the animals were really the monsters they app
eared to be?, or whether there was a pattern to it all?, or whether it the apocalyps
e?
It was, in fact, none of these fanciful notions; but first impressions created
by the initial reports made them out to be all this and more; strange, foreign, viol
ent, unknown–the great and terrifying unknown. Fantastic and dramatic images
foisted upon a voracious public concerning a highly aggressive animal thrust into
their awareness like an unwanted intruder. It worked well and the images stuck,
so that today much of the public was still terrified of them and habitually suspicio
us of any plan to save them. Of course, it wasn’t entirely unreasonable to be afrai
d of something that acted they way they did, but the difficulty in altering the inac
curate impressions formed by the initial reports concerning the Superspecies pro
ved to be an onerous task for Intinman & Co., as well as any others defending thei
r welfare. And the fact that most of the primary accounts were wrong and grossl
y exaggerated to sell tons of newspapers wasn’t strong enough medicine to cure a
certain mind set that developed an appetite for “impressions” rather than facts; a
nd trained to act on those impressions rather than knowledge.
To a lot of folks, they were still those bloodthirsty beasts from out of a nig
htmare thriller, or some horribly deranged creatures for which there was no esca
pe, by a mentality that once formed an opinion found it almost impossible to cha
nge, even in the face of glaring facts to the contrary.
Samuel Portwine himself was a horrible sight of disfigurement; which was,
in itself, a tragedy. He was also a bitter person who, to all appearances, had ever
y right to be (the great tragedy being the way he used his own personal experienc
e in an attempt to bring about an even greater tragedy upon the bears out of pure
vengeance). The key to his personality was to live a devastated, vindictive existe
nce that would remain unchanged no matter what happened to the Superspecies,
but was determined to make every effort to force them to pay for what happened
to him. All for some private form of satisfaction. It was irrational, it was pointles
s and it was understandable all in its own right, but it was also a sign of a shattere
d mind–even more so than the mangled body that housed it–in need of escape fro
m itself.
When he spoke, his voice sounded cracked and grief-stricken with an appe
arance that was eminently tragic, manifested in every action. His mind filled with
personal demons manipulated masterfully to draw others into a situation that wa
s chronically hopeless; like so many others who’d suffered some terrible form of t
ragedy; finding in their condition a reliable source of power over other people’s
morbid curiosity and sharing their life “messages” with a world that hadn’t exper
ienced such levels of hardship, and sought them out as a perverse form of enterta
inment.
But where did Samuel Portwine find his reward in all this? Out there...so
mewhere...among the anonymous faces? His admirers? The truth is, he didn’t ha
ve a good enough reason for why he chased recognition other than to keep retelli
ng his story over and over and forever placing himself at the center of attention f
or others to sympathize with and become terrified and enraged in his name.
“Senators...ladies and gentlemen...” he voice trickled low and slow like a riv
er of sludge flowing over the heads of everyone present. “...I beg you to realize...,
(he actually said “beg” which Intinman judged to be completely disingenuous hu
mility; pulling it off without so much as a grin or a faint smirk on his face). Intin
man had a hard time understanding why he was compelled to search for that loo
k in his face. Perhaps, it was underlying. Everyone leaned forward almost autom
atically when he said it to get a better look. It bore repeating: “...I beg you to reali
ze, fully, the danger of the situation we find ourselves in. The threat of this new s
pecies cannot be overemphasized too much. It is apocalyptic in nature!” his voice
rose instantly to a fever pitch; startling many in the audience with the bold declar
ation. His eyes gleamed and became menacing as he lost consciousness of everyo
ne in the room. Being transported to another time and place–the onset of a vicio
us attack; when he wasn’t aware of anything happening to him.
“These gentlemen here..,” he said with a subtly accusing graze of his hand t
oward the other table, “...misguided as they are, are very intelligent men, well kno
wn in their fields, and probably to all of you...but make no mistake—they are mis
guided–blinded by a desire for fame and fortune and perhaps a place in the histor
y books!”
It stung like a cheap shot from an afflicted man, hearing these words, but
was it true? Intinman felt struck dumb by the harshness of the attack and wrestl
ed with the question in his mind as the tirade gathered steam. It certainly would
n’t be the first test of his faith.
“...I can assure you I am under no such illusions,” announced Mr. Portwine,
“Frankly, I can’t afford to be, as you can see I am crippled for life, but that isn’t the
worst of it. There are many more out there like me and there’s bound to be more
to come if these awful creatures are allowed to occupy our planet much longer. I
don’t care if they superior or intelligent beings as they are claimed to be by those
with questionable motives, and I think most sensible people would agree with m
e; the fact is, the animals are dangerous and there is nothing left to discuss and n
othing left to do but rid the plant of their foul presence! Personally, I don’t care fo
r any of the theoretical or scientific nonsense that glorifies their existence when t
his can happen to anyone...”
He made a short flapping gesture like a flailing walrus, almost imperceptib
le, indicating himself, at the same time, somber and unmistakable.
“I can assure you this committee does care about both sides of the issue, M
r. Portwine, and will weigh them both equally,” senator Madden stated like the old
guard of legalese.
“Pardon me, senator, I wasn’t suggesting anything less, I was merely trying
to convey the gravity of the issue for everyone to see—” at which point the lawye
r to his left whispered something in this ear and nodded hastily several times. Po
rtwine, displaying a rapid shift in attitude, added loftily, “The danger is real, wide
spread and threatens people everywhere!”
The senator snapped back impatiently, “This panel is aware of the threat f
aced by human beings, that’s why this investigative committee was formed in the
first place, there’s no need to delve into the matter any further. Please begin fram
ing your case against protecting these animals and explain exactly what you belie
ve should be done with them. Remember what you’re here for: to offer expert tes
timony for elimination of the Superspecies.”
“I apologize if I’ve offended this panel in any way,” said Portwine, this time
with a genuine appeal of humility. Observing the broken man censured publicly a
nd living with everyday tragedy tore at the heart of everyone present to a profou
nd degree, and Portwine excelled at milching it for all it was worth. Of course, he
was truly a victim and had every right to think of himself that way, but, at some p
oint, one would expect the strong to display some willingness to survive with dig
nity, or prevail over adversity like Odysseus, rather than existing like a living ship
wreck.
“No offense,” said the senator, tactfully, “Please continue.”
 “Thank you, senator.”
“You’ve told us quite a lot about your unfortunate accident, now please ex
plain why you suggest we exterminate the Superspecies.”
“Exterminate isn’t the proper word,” he protested.
“You don’t believe it’s appropriate for what you’re advocating?” puzzled th
e senator.
“I prefer to use the term “neutralize”.”
“You make them sound like a runaway computer virus in need of rapid con
tainment,” the senator mused, instructively, “But you are free to use any term you
like. Let it be duly noted that
“neutralize” means driven to extinction.”
“I’m not in favor of the connotation that suggests, either,” objected Portwin
e, “extinction makes it sound like we’re doing something bad.”
“And you don’t believe it’s wrong to exterminate–pardon, neutralize–a spe
cies?”
“On the contrary I believe it’s our highest duty as people! How can defens
e of one’s own species ever be wrong? What creature doesn’t have the right of sel
f-defense?”
“Alright, let’s not argue over interpretations here,” deferred Madden, “Just
give us a brief summary about the bear attack you suffered; not like the last one,
which contained far too many details–just give us the basics: how did it happen?
When did it happen? Where? And after the attack, what led you to form your ow
n organization and turn your experience into a crusade to protect others?”
Portwine released a heavy, thoughtful sigh that preceded his second recan
ting of the events on that fateful day, and Intinman felt sure he’d be sick at any m
oment. He didn’t know if he could stand hearing it all again. If he’d ever been un
sure of his convictions, if he’d felt been shaky in the past, it was certainly confron
ting him now, utterly, unavoidably. It was a battle between destruction and destr
uction, and both sides had excellent reasons for their deeply entrenched position
s; nullifying all arguments. It wasn’t a simple question of right or wrong, as he tri
ed, more or less, to convince himself. It was complicated–like life and death–hazy,
varied, mind-bending. An epic battle between opposite sides of a well-worn coin
and no quarter would be given or taken in the end, as violence begets violence an
d injustice begets injustice in a vast, unending continuum.
His feet turned to clay inside his shoes.
“My encounter with the Superspecies happened fifteen years ago in the st
ate of Montana, in a remote backcountry area, where I was hunting for deer. I kn
ew grizzlies were frequent in the area but was informed not to worry about them
much near the animal trails where I was hunting, unless they smelled food, which
was left back at camp for that reason. The trails were well trodden by deer and el
k, with abundant tracks, so I believed I had nothing to worry about from anything
but them.” His voice dropped perceptively by degrees. “It was a beautiful spring
day and I was hunting blissfully alone in the early afternoon, with the fresh scent
s of the season all around me, between two and three o’ clock as I recall...”
Portwine’s head was thrust skyward as he detached from the spot he was
standing like a fleeting spirit, relating the story to the ornate ceiling above. One c
ould see he was completely absorbed in the moment where he found himself alon
e and something terrifying and life-changing was about to happen, following a ins
tance of perfect joy.
 “I came upon a small tunnel that passed under a very tricky collection of r
ocks just slightly off the trail and was coming out the other side when I felt a sudd
en enormous pressure on the back of my head, along with some strange noises I c
ouldn’t make out, before everything went black. I must of been out for a very lon
g time because when I came to, I was lying in the critical care unit at the hospital
and someone told me it was Monday, not Saturday, the last day I remember. I was
picked up by two rangers passing by who were keeping an eye out for any signs o
f trouble; aware there were several hunters in the area. They spotted me with m
ost of the face torn off, my arms and legs in tatters and looking, I would imagine,
anything but human...” his body trembled uncontrollably as he described this last
part. “One each of my arms and legs were mauled so badly they had to be amput
ated at the joints because the nerves and vessels were mangled beyond repair.”
Intinman’s heart sank. He had been confronted by victims of Superspecies
violence before, sometimes aggressively, and it shook him, but nothing as powerf
ully as this. Theories and scientific principles whizzed by in brief cloudbursts bef
ore his eyes, lightning and all, melting into a giggling mesh of chaos that exploded
suddenly into a starless oblivion, dragging him along with it and hurling his body
to the ground like an overwhelming opponent. He stared entranced at Portwine,
unable to take his eyes off the pitiful figure of a man; wondering if he looked as a
bsurd as he felt right now; a man seriously concerned with a species that could d
o this to a man. He placed his head in his hands, peering through his fingers once
or twice, and feeling James’ hand on his shoulder, whispering, “What’s the matte
r...hey! You alright?”
“Fine,” he grumbled, too forcefully, and moments later,“ No, really,” softene
d it a bit and hoping to excuse himself from further inquiry.
Portwine’s phrases sliced through the air and past his gut like tightly wou
nd rubber bands. “I woke up to find I’d been attacked by a two grizzlies at the sa
me time...ambushed as it were, and told was it highly unusual because bears do n
ot normally work together, and they rarely coordinate attacks against human bei
ngs. When attacks do happen they’re generally spontaneous in nature. Needless
to say I was shocked and amazed as I’ve done a lot of hunting in bear country bef
ore and never had a problem with them. Though, I didn’t have much time to thin
k about it; there were treatments and therapeutic programs, reconstructions and
bones to set, grafts and transfusions to be performed and psychiatric evaluations
to undergo.”
His story had the hollow, absent ring of having been told hundreds, if not t
housands, of times, and sounded as fresh and invigorating as a hot swamp.
“Pardon me, Mr. Portwine,” said the senator, “But how long did your treat
ment last and what was the official diagnosis of your condition, for the record?”
“I apologize, senator, I understand you’re mainly concerned with facts and
I’m giving you nothing but personal experience.” The lawyer on his left smiled an
d nodded ever so slightly at his client’s strategically advantageous phraseology. T
he coaching had proven successful. They knew that passionate speechmaking wo
uld make much better news copy than cold, hard facts. “It required two and a hal
f years of constant medical treatment for me to reach the level of bodily function
I’ve attained today, after going through all the requisite reconstructions and thera
pies and what not, I became a new man...reborn, as you see!” he declared with a n
ote of triumphant but aching resignation too flamboyant to be believed, and too p
ainful to ignore considering the source.
 “The final medical analysis was extreme blood loss leading very near to br
ain starvation due to lack of immediate medical attention, accompanied by a mas
sive concussion and violent all over body trauma, including excessive deletion of
skin tissue as a result of the vicious animal attack.”
“Thank you,” said the senator examining Portwine’s mask-like appearance
with fear and shame and trying his best not to look shocked. The invisible mask t
he senator wore as a professional politician weighed heavily on him now before t
his man of unintended disguise; a disguise the unfortunate man wore without ex
pression as he managed only with practiced diligence. The crowd murmured and
sighed in a way that was demonstratively oppressive, exhaling an air of clammy i
ntimacy into the proceedings that surged ahead and retreated like a foul odor.
“After I was released from the hospital I naturally I felt some hatred towar
d the beings that brought this terrible tragedy into my life and wanted to do some
thing about it–something massive! The bears responsible were hunted down and
killed shortly after the attack, but that wasn’t enough to satisfy the nagging sense
of pain and loss in me. I was scarred for life and needed to retaliate in some prof
ound way. Then I discovered from people who contacted me–people who had he
ard about the attack–that I may have been the victim of some new earthly demon
linked to other acts of hostility toward human beings.”
Portwine’s gaze wandered up to the ceiling with the muscles in his neck b
ulging grotesquely, as though undergoing the attack presently; vivid, primal and r
eal, in the frame of an instant, over and over again—his face blazed red and terro
r-stricken.
Intinman wanted to say something: apologize, protest or cry out, he wasn’
t sure if given the chance. He chuckled insanely to himself, then cringed in shame,
eyes darting to and fro. Was he losing his mind? Had all of his work been in vain?
Nothing but glory seeking? He chuckled again with less vigor to chase away the
first. There was no consolation in that either. First, he’d been wracked with guilt
for showing the government where to exterminate the species and now after corr
ecting that original mistake, felt worse for trying to save a species capable of dest
roying a man’s life. The sudden realization crashed into his consciousness with al
l the force of a meteor.
“...Not long after I formed HumansFirst!...” Portwine droned on in the midst
of Intinman’s mindstorm, “...when I discovered there was a certain type of being t
hat had turned on humans with a vengeance.”
Define “turned on”, if you don’t mind,” the senator muttered in a voice that
seemed to originate from something other than a body.
“Turned on–meaning wanting to cause harm or destroy people, what els
e?” snapped Portwine, becoming incensed with the senator’s persistent question
s. “None of the scientists studying them argue over whether they are trying to ha
rm people, they only disagree over why its happening, and I say I don’t care why i
t’s happening, I know it needs to be stopped.”
“May I say something?” ventured a strange voice no one seemed to know f
rom where it originated until it spoke up again: “I understand your point of vie
w...” Intinman turned to Portwine, “...theoretics don’t appear to have much meani
ng when facing a man such as yourself. What you’ve been through can’t possibly
have any justification,” he groped; feeling at a loss.
“Yet you still support them?” Portwine said coldly, allowing his eyes to gra
ze across Intinman’s face with impatient scorn.
 “I must stress to you that these animals are worth saving because they are
very important creatures,” said Intinman solicitously.
“To science?” swarmed the indignant reply.
“Um—yes...that and what can be learned about our own evolution from st
udying their development.”
“Studying them? People are dying because of these awful beasts and all yo
u care about is your precious research and personal glory!”
“Gentlemen, this isn’t the time to debate the issue,” senator Madden interv
ened sharply. “You can ask each other questions later, during the allotted time pe
riod, but not right now. Dr. Intinman, please wait until Mr. Portwine has finished
explaining his take on the issue.”
“You’re right,” Intinman deferred without argument, “Sorry.”
“Dr. Intinman seems blinded by his own fascination with these animals an
d refuses to acknowledge the potential harm they can cause thousands of people
if they are allowed to exist,” accused Portwine.
“That’s not true,” Intinman protested. “We can control them, if...if it’s done
properly.”
“Hah,” Portwine balked at him. “You’re insane, obsessed with these viciou
s animals and your own spotless reputation.”
“Am not, damnit!” blared Intinman like an injured child, “This doesn’t conc
ern me at all. I don’t care about that or anything else, I’m merely trying to save o
ne of the greatest evolutionary discoveries in history and that’s all there is to it! I
don’t deny what happened to you and others is deplorable, but it doesn’t excuse e
xterminating an entire species!”
Intinman felt himself gaining strength to oppose this man even though it r
emained a considerable effort trying to fight someone who had good reason to ha
te the Superspecies. It felt like he needed to overcome a series of formidable obst
acles within himself to even state his case, as if he was taking the position of excu
sing the poor man’s misfortune.
“There is too much danger in it for all of to us to let these things roam the
earth freely,” Portwine bitterly remarked; contemplating his severed arm gloomil
y.
“But they can be controlled,” implored Intinman.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen, please!” the senator rapped his gavel furiously. “I’
m going to have to order both of you to cease this arguing at once! This isn’t the
right time to begin duking out your personal views on the matter. We must stick
to the format and keep in mind why we’re all here: to hammer out a law for or ag
ainst the Superspecies.”
“Sorry, senator, but the issue cannot be anything but personal to me, as yo
u’ve put it,” Portwine remarked with lifted chin.
“You will both be given the opportunity to listen and respond to each othe
r’s questions, but for now, we must stay on track by focusing exclusively on the ta
sk at hand, informing this committee and nothing else,” instructed the senator.
“I would like to ask Mr. Portwine a question, if it’s alright,” said senator Pa
ulsen. “Do you foster any doubts about these animals being a higher order of ma
mmal in the first place? What I mean is, do you believe scientists like Dr. Intinma
n are lying or wrong about the more advanced qualities of these creatures?”
“Well, that’s an interesting question. Do I believe they are lying or wrong?
Perhaps a little of both. I said before I didn’t care whether they were a special bre
ed or not, but that’s not entirely true. I do believe they are very smart creatures a
nd have absolute respect for what they’re capable of. That is, in fact, what makes
them so dangerous to me, and is all the more reason to want to see them dead.”
“I’m not sure I follow you...,” confessed senator Paulsen, judiciously, peerin
g over his glasses, alert and attentive, “...you believe they are superior beings yet t
hat’s more of a reason to want to see them dead?”
“Yes, senator, that’s correct.”
“Please explain...”
“Well, the animals are endowed with a vast array of capabilities–that is ob
vious–they are smarter, faster, more adaptable, making them incredibly more dan
gerous to humans than any other creature on earth. All I’m trying to do is protect
our greatest asset from destruction, which is of course our own hides,” he murmu
red, righteously, looking less of a train wreck and more of a crusader at that mom
ent.
“True, but couldn’t Dr. Intinman and Dr. James also be right in claiming the
ir unique qualities serve to justify their continued existence as you believe they ta
ke it away?” Paulsen proposed.
“Could be. Guess it depends on your perspective,” observed Portwine, flatl
y.
“But your main concern is still the danger of keeping them alive?”
“What else is there to be concerned about?”
“A vast amount, and it’s the job of this panel to take great pains to find that
out–for better or worse.”
“You don’t sound too certain you’ll find one,” Portwine added, in passing, a
s a stern warning.
The senator ignored this last remark; listening instead to a senator on his
right whisper something in his ear.
“As I said before we will take all the available information into account in d
eciding what to do,” declared the senator. “I am merely seeking to understand yo
ur reasons for advocating the extermination of a species since you are the preside
nt of the largest organization opposed to their preservation.”
“Neutralization, senator, if you please...”
“Oh!” the senator cleared his throat, irritably, “Yes, sorry.” Whispering som
ething casually in the ear of the senator next to him and shuffling some papers ar
ound, again. “So, essentially you believe there is no middle ground. The bears m
ust be taken out en mass–neutralized completely–and no compromise is possible
on that point whatsoever?”
“Can there be?” asked Portwine.
“That’s what we hope to determine. Though, I don’t believe you can rightl
y condemn an entire population of animals because of the actions of a few, terribl
e as they were; even our system of laws is based on that concept. Now, sir, lookin
g beyond what happened to you, can’t you see any value in preserving them?”
Intinman felt certain that some of the senators, at least, were in sympathy
with saving the species, but also worried that their resolve was wholly unpredict
able and subject to change at any moment. Politicians. He couldn’t count on the
m being able to push it through alone and would have to follow through on his pr
omise to make a fight of in any case; at least that was how the scenario played out
in his head.
“I don’t think I could ever completely look beyond what happened to me.
Nobody could. That’s a fact. But, I can tell you this, if the Superspecies is allowed
to survive and spread all over this earth, there will be a lot more dead and injured
people popping up all over the place. The scientists say the animals are becomin
g more intelligent all the time, which means, someday soon they will be more dea
dly than they are today. Are we going to just sit around and wait ‘til the day come
s when they pose an even greater threat to us all?”

Chapter 8

His words rang true; causing a moment of uneasy silence to descend like a
cloud over the room; and everyone held their breath, contemplating what had jus
t been said. It was true, even Intinman had to admit, there was a good chance the
animals would become more dangerous in time.
“Ideally we will learn to adapt to them and they to us,” he said unable to co
ntrol himself–it was an abrupt outburst, “That’s where you’re thinking is wrong.”
“My thinking’s not wrong,” Portwine said, defiantly.
“Yes it is; their violent behavior can be controlled if ours is...” Intinman insi
sted. “Dr.!” Madden warned him.
“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself, I had to reply to his misguided claim,” Intinm
an defended himself: “It demanded a response! The animals’ intelligence need n
ot always be directed against us; it depends on how we adapt to the change overt
aking our planet at the moment, that’s what he doesn’t seem to understand. If we
react violently and try to exterminate them, they will undoubtedly become more
aggressive toward us; but we can prevent that from happening by giving the anim
als some leeway and time to adjust to being around us as much as we need time t
o adjust to being around them. If we show them a face that is nothing but violent
it will almost guarantee a swift and likewise reaction from them.”
“What do you say to that, Mr. Portwine?” Madden inquired.
“I don’t really care if they can be preserved. The fact is they shouldn’t be n
o matter what the circumstances–they’ve done enough damage already. They are
too deadly and they will continue to become more so the longer we wait. The ris
k is too great!”
“Then you don’t believe these animals should be allowed to exist even if th
ey are separated from human beings in their own designated preserves?” asked t
he senator.
“No, they are too dangerous and it’s too risky. What if they figure a way to
escape? They will always be a threat as long as they exist. The earth must be rid
of them now!” he stated in a imperative voice.
“But the reasons for the way they act are real and you must understand th
em...” Intinman appealed to him, “...they attack out of self-defense alone because
we are dangerous and destructive creatures ourselves; to their environment as w
ell as our own.”
“I said I didn’t care about the reasons!” shouted Portwine firmly. “They ar
e deadly and that is all that matters to me in the end.”
“You should realize, however, that the committee does consider it necessar
y to determine the cause of the bears’ aggressive behavior in making its final deci
sion concerning their survival,” explained senator Madden.
“Yes, I know that.”
“Then why do you keep saying it doesn’t matter to you?”
 “Because it doesn’t. Isn’t everyone entitled to their own opinion?”
“Yes, but in this particular forum that opinion should be based on a critical
assessment of the facts, and how one interprets them, logically; not a complete di
sregard for the facts,” the senator admonished him, becoming doubtful of the wit
ness’ credibility.
“I know the so-called facts, senator. I just don’t agree with them,” he replie
d with a puzzling certainty.
“But Dr. Intinman and others have proven the existence of a profound gene
tic distinction across the species.”
“I know they are intelligent beings but what does that matter when they ar
e so dangerous?” countered Portwine.
“Good point,” replied the senator, thoughtfully. “They are extremely dange
rous and that’s as undeniable as the fact of them being a great species.”
“And more importantly, it requires we take immediate action.”
“So you do recognize these creatures possess superior attributes to other
creatures, you just don’t believe the benefits outweigh the potential danger they
pose?” the senator summed up for him. “And you don’t believe they should be sav
ed–that there’s any reason to try?”
“Is it worth the risk when so many have been attacked?” Portwine respond
ed challengingly.
“Just how many have been harmed since their discovery?” senator Madde
n inquired–“Dr. Intinman?”
“I have some figures right in front of me here...” said Portwine hastening to
keep the focus on himself, “...31 people killed, 44 injured since 1987; and these ar
e just the ones in the United States. The figures I have from South America are m
uch worse but spotty; we believe it to be around 46 killed in the Andes region an
d 51 injured, in other words, mauled with a variety of results.”
“Pretty compelling data. Would either of you care to respond to that?” the
senator faced James and Intinman.
“Our figures are about the same,” admitted Intinman, “A bit lower perhaps,
but more or less identical.”
Senator Madden conferred with the senator to his left and to his right as v
arious comments were being fielded from one person to the next on down the lin
e; sparking a series of additional (occasionally heated) comments and observatio
ns, back and forth, and there was much head-nodding and whispering, until senat
or Madden finally broke free of the pack, observing frankly:
“Drs. James and Intinman believe in preserving the animals because they a
re special creatures and an invaluable contribution to science, and Mr. Portwine
maintains they ought to be eliminated simply because they are dangerous, and do
esn’t care whether they are unique or intelligent in any way.”
They both nodded in agreement.
“Mr. Portwine, the fact that your organization and others like it will not co
mpromise on destroying the animals outright does create a difficult situation for
this panel. If we could reach a compromise–separating the animals from human
beings for an indeterminate numbers of years until they can integrated would be
such a compromise–but you’ve said this wouldn’t satisfy your side...”
“No–they must be destroyed.”
“What should be done with these animals in your opinion, then? How sho
uld such a plan of eliminating them take place? I’m sure you must have some tho
ughts on the matter...”
“Personally, I believe they should all be hunted down and trapped, perhap
s even poisoned with chemicals. There are many reliable methods that have been
developed recently—”
“Alright, alright, we’ll get to that,” interrupted senator Madden, hastily; sor
ry he asked. “But, isn’t there a risk of killing a lot of non-Superspecies bears, as w
ell as other animals, if it’s done that way?”
“Yes, there is,” added Intinman, excitedly, “In fact that’s one of the major pr
oblems with these extermination programs: they end up killing a lot of unrelated
creatures.”
“It’s worth the sacrifice when you consider the stakes!”
“And what are they?” snapped Intinman.
“Only the highest possible,” Portwine returned, “life itself.” “For
whom? People like you? That’s just silly. We will likely lose more lives if we go fo
rward with the half-baked plan you are proposing. The bears are becoming more
violent all the time and they’ve already killed several men at White River where s
uch a plan’s already being executed.”
“All the more reason to step up our efforts to get rid of them all,” Portwine
shouted defiantly, “These creatures must be stopped and they must be stopped n
ow!”
One of Portwine’s lawyers whispered something in his ear, talking very ra
pidly and making short, sharp hand gestures. Portwine lowered his ear, nodded s
everal times then turned to face the panel of senators with renewed calm and con
fidence.
“The longer we wait, the more dangerous the situation becomes for all of u
s,” he warned firmly.
“It is only dangerous if we make it that way,” Intinman added.
“We didn’t make this situation,” Portwine blurted out, coarsely, “They did.
Your animals!”
“The attitude you possess is the reason why the bears are so violent in the
first place. You want to destroy them rather than understand them. You react def
ensively to anything that threatens your welfare for whatever reason, never tryin
g to understand the underlying causes, or your part in making them happen; but
seeking instantly to lash out, destroy. You are placing all the blame on the animal
s rather than laying any portion where it belongs: squarely on human shoulders.
What about our involvement in the situation?–the gaping hole in your argument i
s that we’re inciting them to act the way they do; forcing them to commit the mos
t natural act in the world–fighting for survival.”
He continued, undaunted: “It may interest you to know that the bears’ mos
t negative perception of us is aimed at the self-destructive nature of humans itself.
They perceive our actions as ruled by a destructive force that’s as much of a dan
ger to ourselves as the world around us–which is absolutely true! They aren’t wr
ong about that! We are as much of threat to our own lives and kind as other creat
ures on the planet. To them, human beings represent an aberration in the natural
world.”
“A what–?” Portwine gasped along with several of the senators on the pane
l; drawing back and glancing at each other–shocked. “An aberration!”
“Yes, unfortunately, it’s come to our attention that self-destructive tendenc
ies within a species can be perceived by other creatures that way; while, instincti
vely, the predisposition to destroy oneself, or one’s own species or living environ
ment, is recognized, almost universally, as a dangerously unstable and possibly d
eranged state of mind with certain life-threatening qualities toward everything el
se in the natural world. At least, that is what our research has shown so far.”
“Research!...research!...we’re dealing with an apocalyptic situation here!” P
ortwine pounded the table with all the panicky fervor of the truly devout.
“I must say, calling human beings “aberrations” isn’t going to help your cas
e any, Dr.,” the senator notified him under cocked eyebrows and a scandalized infl
ection.
“Please understand, senator, I’m not saying human beings are aberrations,
I’m simply saying that’s the way we are perceived by these creatures,” he explaine
d without artifice.
“Not much difference,” sneered Portwine.
“There is...” he protested, strongly, “...you just refuse to see it.”
“What about you? Do you believe having self-destructive tendencies make
s human beings aberrations? That’s a strange viewpoint.” The senator scrutinize
d him closely; awaiting an answer.
“I can only tell you how we are perceived by another intelligent species–w
hat I think doesn’t matter under the circumstances.”
“And you believe the way to solve this problem is for mankind to abandon i
ts policy of aggression toward them; let them be? This will change their attitude t
oward us permanently?”
“Every bit of research shows this to be the case.”
“You don’t sound too convinced,” Portwine badgered him, mercilessly.
“I can’t be one hundred percent sure, of course. Nothing like this has ever
happened before; but one thing’s for sure, our violent and senseless behavior is c
ausing them to respond with greater acts of violence all the time and the more w
e increase it, the more dangerous they will become...”
“Alright, so what should be done with the Superspecies in your point of vie
w, Dr.? Be specific, Tell us what you’d recommend in answer to Portwine’s guns, t
raps and chemical poisons.”
“First, I want to draw attention to the fact that what Mr. Portwine is sugges
ting would mean disaster not only for the bears but also for the environment in g
eneral.”
“Granted,” the senator replied.
“I would also suggest testing, capturing and isolating Superspecies bears i
mmediately from the rest of the world; to protect them and innocent people, both.
Then, they could be placed in the protected facilities previously mentioned and s
hut off from all contact with human society. These facilities would be staffed wit
h the best biological researchers and experts from around the world who would s
tudy these animals in their natural environment and discuss various ways they co
uld be assimilated into the wider society at some point in the future.”
“Describe these facilities in more detail, Dr., and be more specific about wh
at exactly would be required so we could get an idea about cost and logistics for s
uch a project,” the senator probed, seeming somewhat fascinated by the idea.
“They would have laboratories and testing facilities onsite with individual
cages where the animals could be studied up close and personal, while the rest of
them would be kept within a certain specific, enclosed region representing the bo
undaries of the preserve. Beyond that, not much else is required.”
 “Seems deceptively simple; I have my doubts. A question for you, Mr. Port
wine...how do you answer the claim that your plans for the Superspecies would c
reate a veritable environmental disaster? How do you justify the cost of killing of
so many unrelated animals who aren’t part of the problem?”
“Under the circumstances, a certain amount of necessary, and unintended,
killing is justified and required,” answered Portwine.
“Justified? How?” the senator replied skeptically.
“Because man has the right and command to rule over the earth and no ot
her species can take that away,” was the spirited reply.
“You talk like a man obsessed with their destruction and the alleged Christ
ian commandment to subdue the earth. You don’t by any chance believe in Manif
est Destiny and the subjugation of all non-white races, do you?” the senator ventu
red, derisively.
“I don’t see how man ruling the earth is anything to be made fun of,” said P
ortwine indignantly.
“Of course not. The only problem is evolution stands in your way...” replie
d Intinman, “...and demagogues like you hate it when anything gets in your way. E
specially, when that something is science and nature.” He finished by glancing ca
sually, dismissively at Portwine sitting between two lawyers who were constantly
advising him in some capacity or another; all appearing blank-faced and stunned
now. Portwine licked his lips and peered briefly around the room. His patchwor
k face and sunken eyes working out the details of a plan hatched at length; prese
ntly being carried out.
“I don’t have a problem with reality and I don’t give a damn about evolutio
n when it stands in the way of human progress!” declared Portwine in the tone of
defending an old, sacred formula.
“Ah, progress...,” murmured Intinman, sinuously, “...the great euphemism fo
r destruction carried out in the name of short-term goals, short-sighted plans, an
d long-term destruction.”
“What’s really short-sighted is your belief that these horrible monsters ca
n be changed for the better,” was the bitter reply.
“They will change only if we do.”
“We can’t change,” answered Portwine.
“Inspiring to see how much faith you have in the mankind you’re trying de
sperately to save. Are we so perfect in your eyes that no improvement is necessa
ry?”
“No, but...”
“What then?”
“It’s just that other creatures must adapt to us, to our world, that’s just the
way,” Portwine declared confidently.
“Maybe that’s the problem. We’ve had our own way for so long it’s made u
s too sure of ourselves and our superiority over the rest of creation. No one can c
hallenge our position. Well, evolution has thrown a monkey wrench into that ide
al situation and complacency no longer rises to the occasion. Wouldn’t you agree,
Mr. Portwine?”
“It doesn’t have to. We just have to change the course of nature. Human b
eings have the power—”
“—To alter nature?” scoffed Intinman; instantly picking up his line of reaso
ning and throwing it back in his face. “To play god? Deciding which creatures liv
e and die? That’s exactly what’s gotten us in this mess in the first place.”
“It would be a crime...” Dr. James stepped in, “...to exterminate them in an ef
fort to hide what they signify to us and then pretending it doesn’t exist. It would
be a damning historical mistake!”
“That’s just what the EPA director has been trying to do for years,” Intinma
n pointed out.
“It’s more than that,” senator Madden replied, “It’s a sin.”
“So, I guess you’re all allied against destroying these creatures, now?” Port
wine complained. “There’ll be many more deaths and you’ll all be responsible. R
emember that!”
“You haven’t given us just cause to, uh...neutralize them yet. I understand l
ike many others you’ve been irreparably harmed and that is a tragedy in itself but,
as lawmakers, we must look at the wider picture–the threat to human life alongsi
de the value of the animals themselves–weighing both equally to arrive at a concl
usion. More importantly, we need to discuss the impact on White River and reach
a decision about what’s going to happen there in the end. Though, I’m certain wh
atever compromise can be forged out of this mess won’t satisfy both sides,” the se
nator reflected, woefully. “Currently, the EPA is engaged in one of its infamous ext
ermination programs as we’re all taking part in this delightful discussion, and thi
s has been done in secret for the most part, without the approval of the president,
as far as this panel is concerned. I don’t believe he’d approve of any program tha
t threatens the welfare of the environment. It could spell political disaster for hi
m.”
“A lot of people knew,” said Portwine, “Why not him?”
“I’m not saying he didn’t,” the senator amended, “I said I didn’t believe he
did–though I intend on finding out...but whatever happens, I’m going to recomme
nd an immediate injunction on the activities at White River to halt the destructio
n of the park before the whole thing blows up in our face.”
“Better hurry,” advised Dr. James, “If you don’t move fast there may be not
hing left to save. The day before we flew out of Denver they were getting ready to
drop the chemical and biological toxins from the air.”
“Again,” the senator replied remotely, “We can only recommend that the Su
preme Court do something, we cannot make them do it, or determine how long it
will take. Unfortunately, things don’t more very fast around here generally speaki
ng.” He shuffled the papers around in front of him once more, appearing agitated.
“Dr. Intinman has given us his opinions on White River, Mr. Portwine,” sena
tor Paulsen remarked; taking charge of the discussion after being given the floor
by Madden, “Why don’t you tell us what you know about White River and what yo
u think should be done about it? For example, should it be stepped up, remain th
e same or something else?”
“I am, of course, for any plan that rids the world of these horrible beasts as
quickly as possible. I have no qualms about that,” he shouted, slamming his fist d
own on the table (unnoticed by him when he became excited) so it echoed throug
hout the auditorium. “I have witnessed too many times the destruction they can
do, first hand, and not just myself, but others I’ve met in the course of my travels.
I don’t apologize for my views.”
“Thank you, Mr. Portwine,” said Paulsen; cutting him short, “Now, about W
hite River...?”
“I know there is a highly-skilled, professional team of scientists and traine
d military personnel in the field executing a brilliantly conceived plan by the EPA
director who stands at the forefront of carrying out the thankless task of protecti
ng the public from these vicious animals. Perhaps, it’s true, he’s gone behind the
public’s and his superiors’ backs in doing so, but that’s only because he’s selflessl
y carrying out the job nobody wants, and would be wrongly accused of cruelty if t
he bleeding hearts got ahold of the issue. In my eyes, he’s a brave man and prag
matist.”
“Those “bleeding hearts” as you call them are already aware of the issue–a
nd they’re not the only ones,” Paulsen reminded him. “Besides, I don’t think prag
matism or any other philosophy is justification for breaking the law.”
“The point I’m trying to make is that the director is a very smart and astut
e man who understands the situation profoundly well and what must be done to f
ix it,” with his mask-like appearance displaying obvious confidence. “He knows hi
s job, however unorthodox his methods may be.”
“And you think there’s nothing wrong with destroying the natural environ
mental and other animals who aren’t part of the problem?” senator Paulsen aske
d him directly.
“It’s the price that must be paid to rid the earth of these horrible creatures
–it can’t be done surgically! Their numbers keep growing everyday and we’re ru
nning out of time,” came Portwine’s stubborn response.
“And the fact that these creatures are recognized by the scientific commun
ity as a virtual evolutionary miracle means nothing to you?” the senator inquired.
Portwine shook his head vigorously: “No.”
“Alright, I think we all have a pretty good idea where Mr. Portwine stands
on the issue,” the senator concluded glancing side-to-side at the other senators, w
ho nodded in affirmation; some scribbling copious notes with heads glancing up
and down quickly at either table situated across the aisle. “I just have one questi
on...” he added sharply, “...what has made you so vengeful toward these creatures
other than the obvious attack, if anything?”
The senator scrutinized him carefully, searching his expressionless face fo
r clues to what could make a man so hard and heartless. He frankly didn’t give a
damn either way whether the bears survived or not even though he was leaning t
oward saving them. But the issue was hot and put him in the spotlight for awhile
where he might make a name for himself as a crusader for high-profile causes. H
e was, needless to say, fascinated by men who took a strong interest in anything, t
hough he didn’t have a passionate personality himself (except when it came to ca
reer and power)–but bloodlust and extermination? That was new–and interestin
g!
Portwine put his stringy, skin-grafted fingers on the base of the microphon
e and stroked it as if to emphasize the emotion in his words. His eyes were moist,
shiny and pleading, as if throwing himself on the mercy of the court from being p
ut to death for unspeakable crimes. And to him it was: the death of a dream; seei
ng the horrible creatures of his nightmares put to rest, forever, so he could be at p
eace, once and for all. Believing this committee to be the answer.
“I think of the lives that’ve been destroyed by the horrible acts of these cre
atures and find it impossible to believe there can be any justification for them on
earth. How can there be? Innocent men, women, and children have been killed b
y the Superspecies and every one filled me with an all-consuming anger to lash o
ut I can’t begin to describe.” Portwine was pounding his fist on the table and grip
ping the microphone with such ferocity that people gaped at him with raised eyel
ids and hanging chins. “And when I look at those people, do you think I give a da
mn what motivates these bears?” hastening to add: “Do you think I really care?”
“Dr. Intinman and Dr. James...” senator Paulsen said shifting his gaze, “...ho
w would you reply to what Mr. Portwine is saying about the bears? Do you think
“reasons” really matter when the bears are attacking and killing people as they d
o?”
“Normally I would say no. You see, I don’t want to die either; though, I’ll a
dmit, I have put myself at risk many times trying to get close to them. Like you, I
was afraid and wished to defend myself. I believed as you do: they should be dest
royed before they had a chance to get to me and because they were deadly and th
reatened my existence. But upon discovering the reason for their behavior–that i
t was a reaction to our own that made them aggressive and not because they wer
e innately violent, and also the fact they are amazing creatures in the first place–i
t made sense to reevaluate my initial position of wanting to see them dead. I regr
et, however, that the bears have adopted such horrible acts of aggression as a sig
n of their newfound intelligence but, unfortunately, I do not decide what nature w
ill do, I only study and interpret what it means.”
Intinman was being sympathetic to Portwine and trying to find a common
ground with him, at the same time realizing the awesomeness of the challenge be
fore him of taking a man to task who’d survived so much and nearly lost his life in
the process.
“Innocent people have died...” Portwine shouted, stamping his foot and rel
aying, “...and you “regret” the way they’ve reacted? That’s big of you!” he laughed
bitterly; allowing his eyes rest on Intinman for a single, chilling instant.
Intinman glared at him viciously; feeling compelled to say something nast
y in response, something completely inappropriate for the occasion; managing to
restrain himself at last but not without considerable effort. No one had ever seen
him lose his temper in public before and no one ever would if he could help it. Sl
owly, diplomatically, he uttered, “Mr. Portwine, in case I haven’t made it clear to y
ou–I sympathize with all you’ve been through. I do! But there’s more at stake he
re than just you and me...”
“Damn right there is!” Portwine shouted, angrily, “And, in my view, it is you
who refuses to face the truth! These creatures will keep on killing until we stop t
hem. Do you really believe that once they become smarter and more powerful th
ey won’t use it against us?–it’s the law of the jungle. You’re insane!”
“Mr. Portwine, please try to refrain from name-calling and personal attack
s...,” senator Madden advised; rapping his gavel on the table, lightly but firmly, “...it
isn’t appropriate for this forum.”
“Sorry, your honor,” he backed off, reluctantly. “Nothing gets me more ups
et than hearing people defend these creatures who’ve caused so much damage to
so many; people I’ve met and talked with first-hand. People who were not hunter
s, or trappers–who hadn’t threatened the bears in any way and yet endured bruta
l and unprovoked attacks at their hands.”
Portwine glanced at Intinman with an “ah-hah-top-that-one” look pasted o
n his face that sent a tremor through Intinman’s normally conciliatory personalit
y. He saw no reason for being gratuitously cruel or competitive with others, but
was certainly taking the full frontal assault this time.
“But believe me,” Intinman replied with frank irritation, “that aspect of the
ir behavior can be controlled if ours—yours—is,” he said without thinking; seemi
ng to strike the right note, nevertheless.
“I—I’m normally not a violent person. I’ve been driven to this by—by circ
umstances and necessity, alone,” he stammered, seeming somewhat ashamed by t
he admission.
“So have they,” replied Intinman; searching his face for a reaction.
“But it’s different with humans,” Portwine faltered.
“Really...how?” he ventured; grasping an opportunity to expose the contra
dictions in his opponent’s argument.
“Because we were here first; giving us the right to do whatever we want as
long as we’re in charge.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I,” confided senator Paulsen, “Can you clarify that last remar
k?”
“Human beings have squatter’s rights, if you will; we came first,” he brazen
ly asserted–as though it meant something terribly important. “These creatures a
re “johnny-come-lately’s” in the world (just a bit too late!) and must submit to ou
r will.”
“Does that mean we have a right to destroy any species that gets in our wa
y as long as we exist?” Intinman inquired.
“Certainly, if they attack first!”
“But that’s just it...,” replied Intinman, recognizing another opportunity to t
urn the tables around, “...in their view, they didn’t attack first–we did! Our civiliza
tion has been carrying out a systematic attack on them and all other wildlife for a
s long as anyone can remember; driving countless species to the brink of extincti
on in the process. We have hunted, trapped, poisoned, constrained and otherwis
e harmed creatures in innumerable ways, and whether it’s intentional or not reall
y makes no difference. The fact is they are protecting themselves from us.”
“Many difficult questions are being brought to light here,” remarked senat
or Paulsen, allowing a silken southern drawl to slip through slightly, “The most vi
tal question being who has the primary right to exist? Do we, as human beings, h
ave the claim to do whatever we want without any check on our actions, destroyi
ng and laying waste the world around us to the point to where it threatens our o
wn survival; or do other beings have some–or unlimited–rights to flourish witho
ut interference?”
“If you’ll pardon my forwardness, senator, you are only half right. The deb
ate so far has focused primarily on equally-biased “either-or” situations with rega
rd to the problem, rather than seeking a solution that satisfies the requirements
of mutual survival. Coexistence ought to be our goal. It doesn’t have to be us or t
hem,” Intinman suggested, “It can be both.”
He paused, momentarily, to allow his words to sink in.
“We don’t have the right to waste the earth’s resources and treat its occup
ants with no respect simply because there’s no one around to stop us. We have to
learn to control ourselves! Discipline is the key. The Superspecies merely presen
ts us with a mirror image of our collective failure as a species.”
“You talk like a man-hater,” Portwine accused him. “I believe you’d like to
see these creatures rule the world instead of us? Maybe you’re too close to your
work!”
The accusation shocked him more than anything, but wasn’t entirely with
out merit as Intinman had seen colleagues in the past get too involved in their wo
rk–diligent and complex work–that clouded their judgment and rationality for th
e normal affairs of life. They became fanatics. Uncompromising and shadowy pe
rsonalities that were impossible to deal with, and he wondered: was something si
milar happening to him? Something profound yet dark and invisible without his
knowledge? He paused to reflect; but too many doubts and questions arose in a s
ituation where so much was at stake and too much had happened already–too m
uch, also, remained to be done.
“Like I said, I was against them too at one point, but I don’t believe our fea
rs give us any special right to dictate who lives and who dies on this planet,” Intin
man proclaimed. “We are not gods, and thinking along such lines just shows how
out of touch we are with reality, not to mention sanity, and certainly doesn’t justif
y consuming and destroying all the world’s resources without any regard for the f
uture.”
Senator Madden mused, “I must admit survival is a pretty convincing argu
ment.”
“But, but...he’s wrong!” shouted Portwine, desperately, with his lawyers at
his side consulting furiously in his ears; and him leaning back firing rapid, audaci
ous proclamations at the panel. “If they’re kept alive—eventually we’ll all peris
h!” His eyes bore severely into the faces on the committee floor and were met wit
h only visible stoniness; perceptible, just barely, as veiled embarrassment.
“Since...” senator Madden began gradually, gazing at Portwine’s harrowed f
ace, “...you haven’t given us a good enough reason not to recommend the suspensi
on of the activities at White River until a full investigation can take place, this bod
y will go ahead and vote to recommend an immediate cessation of all activities th
ere...”
“Thank you, senators,” Intinman lowered his head graciously with a deep s
igh, followed by a hearty thanks from Dr. James.
“As you wish, senator,” Portwine responded sulkily. His lawyers appearing
stern and worried at his side, commenting back and forth across the table as they
rose and exited the building; bitter, wounded predictions about the failure of thei
r efforts. Reality, in their eyes, was a sickness to be diagnosed and treated and thi
s time their usual methods had failed them miserably. Talking quickly and quietly
they fluttered a million different gestures of cryptic communication among them,
seeking answers and consolation for their loss.
Prior to their abrupt departure, Senator Madden gave a thorough explanat
ion of how this presentation of evidence before the panel would be used in helpin
g to determine the spirit of the law, if passed. How the law would be framed and
what sorts of things it would encompass. In what way the animals would be defi
ned in the eyes of the law; and how they would be treated and what factor of wei
ght would be given to each reason for keeping them alive as opposed to extermin
ating them. Eventually, the proposed bill would find its way before both houses o
f Congress, voted on and passed or rejected the following week. The issue had be
en pushed to the forefront of the congressional agenda, before the rest of the legi
slative backlog of bills because of its sudden and sweeping capture of the public’s
attention. But democracy is a strange animal. Even when the public’s not right, it
isn’t wrong, and its leaders generally shrink from denying its will–even when all
wet. Funny.
Transcripts from this special session, he further explained, would be analy
zed and applied to the final framing and content of the bill which would be resear
ched, at length, by the members of this panel, among others; to inform the senate
at large and make determinations about how they should vote on the issue. And t
his in the end would be decided by whatever the weight of the evidence favored.
Which, he reminded them, was still up for debate.
It all sounded like bureaucratic nonsense and evasion to most of those pre
sent and they listened only half-heartedly, if at all. Who really knows or understa
nds the mysterious ways in which things of that sort are determined? Not by pur
e reason, of course–that was for certain. Rather in ways utterly removed from co
mmon sense in the otherworldly realm of human governance. And what constru
ed credible evidence in a world of shifting scenes, interpretations and definitions,
anyway? What was real and what wasn’t? Who could be trusted? Looking back
on the courtroom drama, Intinman marveled at how human society was construc
ted; human nature in fact–so completely subjective when reality wasn’t. Given to
superfluous pride and obsession over matters that amounted to plain foolishness
upon close inspection. Was it mere native flaw in human nature itself–too much s
elf-indulgence? Belief in nothing sacred–or nothing at all? A disease of the mind?

Another one of life’s mysteries would remain unsolved because there were
no ears to hear, no eyes to see, no one to care, Dr. James offered as some form of c
ursory explanation.
Walking out to the great hall, Intinman couldn’t help being badgered by th
e idea that the outcome of the bill was already be pre-decided and the fool, in this
case, was him. Could it all have been mere show put on for the benefit of a voraci
ous public and a total waste of his time as they’d talked about earlier? Having liv
ed in Washington long enough he was well aware of such things happening on a r
egular basis and the prospect worried him as the marble floors amplified the step
s under his feet. He clung, selfishly, to the hope that if it were true, the system mi
ght work in his favor for once instead of against him; but decided, in the end, not t
o leave it up to chance. He would return to Colorado immediately to continue the
fight, regardless, of trying to garner support for the hapless creatures who were e
veryday getting closer to the end. Time was running out.
Bennett congratulated them: “Excellent job in there–I don’t think things co
uld’ve gone any better,”–and to Intinman directly–“I think your speech really mad
e an impact.”
“How can you tell?” Intinman replied, cautiously.
“Oh, just a feeling, I think the panel is generally on our side.”
“Yes,” said Intinman lifted by the thought. Images of things heard and said
in the former session flashed quickly before his memory in kaleidoscopic visions.
He lost himself to them.
“Morey, what’s the matter?” said Dr. James, placing a firm hand on his shou
lder, “You looked as if you were about to keel over there a second.”
“Huh? Yes...” he stammered, rubbing his eyes and temples, “...just a little ex
haustion, I guess. I was up most of the night. Couldn’t sleep, so I made some note
s...what I’d do, say and so on...”
“Wooow! Easy there, partner,” said James taking another firm grasp of his
shoulder. “You don’t look so good. Are you sick or something?” he asked, frownin
g with intensity.
“Looks like he needs some rest,” decided Bennett with Dr. Carlin standing
next to him wearing a concerned look on her face after Intinman took on an unna
tural shade.
“I’m just a little tired, I guess. Like I said...I was up all night,” he explained.
“Food’s what I need,” sounding like the last request of a dying man.
“We’d better get him home. We can eat something there and let him lie do
wn at the same time,” Bennett declared; still gazing at him with a painful grimace.
Outside, a limousine had been sent around to shuttle them home from the
Capitol building; dropping them off in due course at Intinman’s house for dinner
and a recap of events. A vintage house in the “federal” style, it was, dated over a h
undred and fifty years; with all the requisite anachronisms of period and style im
plied therein: like being conservative of space yet simple and elegant of design. It
was a ten minute ride from the Capitol. So close, they still felt oppressed by the la
rgeness of the day’s events when they arrived. The brief journey hadn’t given the
m enough time to shed their lingering cares of the day.
As they were descending the Capitol steps, and with Intinman still being p
ropped up by James and Bennett, they were met, in the rain, by a gaggle of camer
as and reporters shouting barely discernible questions at the weary crusaders. B
efore they arrived, careful consideration was wisely given by the hungry news sle
uths to the picturesque and dramatic Georgian backdrop for trapping these incu
mbent victims of the political establishment as they were hemmed in for questio
ning. So–completely drained and wary of further discourse–James and Intinman
were forced to give their commentary on how the session had transpired without
being certain of the outcome themselves. Hounded, they were, by fast talking rep
orters to throw off a few impressions about what had been accomplished, if anyt
hing, that could bear no possible relation to the actual events because, in the end,
they had nothing to reveal that could be construed as a definite indicator of succe
ss or failure. Still the pressure was on to come up with something on the spur of t
he moment, because “the people” savored “the dirt” on every newsworthy item in
the nation; regardless of whether it actually meant anything of value to anyone. T
houghts...a few words...some predictions...give us something! Vultures! Anything
printable that, more than likely, would amount to nothing but fluff.
“Dr. James, what are your thoughts on what occurred in there today? Do y
ou think congress will finally vote in favor of the Superspecies now?” The reporte
r was a eager young man with an extremely pale face and a thin frame; staring bu
lge-eyed at them; blinking nervously and jamming a microphone in their faces. H
e blocked their path in a beige, wind-flapped trench coat that looked too big on hi
m.
“I don’t know,” Dr. James said in irritation. “Nothing has been decided yet.”
“I understand, sir...” he humored him, “...but what are you thoughts about w
hat did happen in there? How did it go in your opinion?” he posited brightly in a
voice rife with broadcast-ready inflection.
“Are you asking me to make a prediction on what’s going happen in the fut
ure?” he replied in agitation.
“Well...sort of...based on your interpretation of the day’s events as they occ
urred, of course,” The reporter grinned like the grand master of social graces; the
graces, at least, found within a certain world. Which, like so many worlds within
worlds, suspended and isolated, reflect back upon themselves to reveal nothing a
t all–like an asinine philosopher examining himself instead of the world around h
im in order to figure out the universe.
 “I sincerely hope...,” Intinman intervened, noting James’ complete lack of d
esire to carry on a conversation with the reporters (obtuse questions and all; he e
ven tried slipping past them on the sly but found every path of escape blocked), “...
that the vote goes the right way—for preservation!”
“Then you believe it will?” the same reported proposed; forgetting Dr. Jam
es for the moment as his microphone chased another key figure in the fight.
“Hard to say.”
The reporter looked thoroughly dissatisfied with this answer, grunting a li
ttle less politely, “Well, what on earth do you believe did happen in there?”
“The only good that could come out of this entire situation is if the bears a
re allowed to live–that’s it! And that hasn’t happened yet.”
“So, you aren’t concerned with the danger to human life? The deaths?” the
reported flung back at him.
“I have concerns like anyone else,” Intinman fired back, “However, I do beli
eve they are manageable ones.”
“Thank you, Dr. Intinman,” said the reporter grinning amiably, leaving Inti
nman wondering what could possibly be derived from what he’d said that could
be of value to anyone. Another of life’s mysteries that would remain unsolved....
The next reporter piped up quickly. He was a short man with glassy, plead
ing eyes like a small, overanxious puppy and persistent questions that sounded st
rangely like yapping.
“What would you say was the most significant thing that happened in toda
y’s discussion?” He inquired; followed up with: “And what would you say was acc
omplished, if anything?” He gazed at Intinman with such prying attention it anno
yed him; causing the muscles to flare up in his face. He backed away.
“We simply informed the senators in detail what our side of the issue was,
which is, obviously, to preserve the animals,” Intinman remarked, “And there wer
e moments when it did seem to gather a favorable response from some of them.”
“So what would you say you accomplished today?” the reporter repeated t
hrusting the microphone higher and closer to his mouth in pursuit of greater effe
ct; his eyes burning with excitement and Intinman pondering aside to himself: “W
ow, a rare thing, a man who really does love his job!”
Suddenly, out of a limo, appeared Samuel Portwine coming toward them d
rawing a large share of the journalistic throng away from the others and toward h
imself. His lawyers helped him up the steps, keeping a firm grasp on their briefca
ses with their other hands and holding their heads up high to signify they were n
ot yet defeated in this battle. The lawyers looked oddly like henchmen handling t
he poor, disgruntled cripple up the stairs–who, himself, was like the mastermind
of some old and exotic criminal enterprise between them. More than half of the r
eporters swooped down on him with his countenance displaying a patchwork of i
ncongruously mismatched body parts under the glaring and revealing lights. He
was truly an example of what tremendous damage the Superspecies could do and
wished to take advantage of the photo opportunity for all it was worth.
He had come around to the front of the Capitol to meet the reporters head
on, and face his opponents in front of the cameras; taking his case to the people, a
s it were, since he had failed to meet the challenge, legislatively.
As the group of reporters rushed up to him he stopped short, a significant
distant away, displaying what he believed to be a marked respect for the hard-wo
rking men and women of the nation’s media. A noble body with the potential to
make or break a person’s career by molding and shaping that wholly mystical for
ce in the universe: public opinion.
“Mr. Portwine, would you care to say something about how things went in
there for you today? Did you get the kind of response you were hoping for?”
Portwine glanced at him with a faint scowl on his face, sandwiched betwee
n the two lawyers like stout oak trees nailed to the pavement. They supported hi
m by standing directly behind him holding the backs of his arms without expressi
on.
“I truly felt there was some animosity toward me and my ideas in there to
day, I won’t deny that,” Portwine said somberly, “However, if I know the people of
this land they won’t allow themselves to be pushed around by animal-rights activ
ities and environmental “wackos” any longer. I have faith the vote will go the way
it ought to in the end.”
“So, you’re holding firm to your belief that the Superspecies is an imminen
t threat to everyone in the country? Do you also believe, as others have stated, th
at they will eventually drift into the more populated areas and begin carrying out
attacks on people in the cities?” the reporter inquired.
“They are certainly capable of that and a lot more–worse things even!” he
explained, ominously.
“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” declared Intinman, “The Super
species are not the monsters they’re made out to be.”
The reporters sensed naturally the potential for a good newsworthy dogfi
ght, distributing themselves evenly between the two speakers trying to capture b
oth outpourings of fiery proclamation on tape. Conflict made for good copy and t
he experienced journalists recognized it instantly in the same way a good farmer
senses the health of the land under his feet, before, during and after the growing
seasons; adjusting his decisions accordingly. Besides, it made for a great story–th
e most crucial factor.
“The man’s a lunatic!” Portwine fired back. “He believes the bears can be t
amed and turned into his own personal pets!” Adding sharply on its heels: “For hi
s own personal glory, no less!”
“Why!—you have no idea what motivates me,” Intinman shouted in his ow
n defense, “I don’t have any personal ambitions when it comes to these creatures.
That’s ridiculous!”
“Ridiculous is it?” Portwine sneered sarcastically. “What about you?” he as
ked, waving one stingy, accusing finger at Dr. James, who, with head lowered, was
trying his best to keep from being sucked into the argument; wearing an expressi
on of unbearable loathing.
“What about me?” he snapped, casting a defiant look in his challenger’s dir
ection.
“Are you just going to stand there and allow this man’s insane vision to inf
ect the world we live in? Don’t you realize you’re just helping get a lot of innocen
t people killed over nothing and deluding the masses who aren’t prepared for a di
saster on this scale, or don’t you realize that yet? I wonder if you’ll be willing to t
ake responsibility for the all dead bodies stacking up due to the actions of these i
nfernal creatures?”
Though incensed, James wouldn’t be pushed into responding to a series of
baiting questions now. Calmly, he replied, “We’ve offered a valid compromise to t
he obvious danger posed by the creatures: separating them from human beings i
ndefinitely in their own habitats where they can’t be of any harm to anyone; but t
hat isn’t enough for you–you have to see them exterminated,” he uttered slowly.
“From my own perspective there is no other solution for the reasonably m
inded person...,” Portwine stated firmly, “...to me, you are both misguided souls so
taken in by your work you refuse to recognize the tremendous danger posed to th
e general public. If we allow them to live at all, they will eventually overrun and c
ontrol us,” he said in an imperative tone that sent thrills down the spines of the re
porters. Again, good copy.
“Your absurd science fiction notions of what motivates these animals in no
way resembles the reality of what’s actually possible,” replied Intinman.
“Hah! Even in your own words you’ve stated you aren’t sure of everything
they’re capable of because there’s nothing in the natural world to compare them t
o...”
“True, but we understand in instinctual and essential terms what makes th
em tick based on their actions in the past and what drives them, now, toward the
future. We’ve also got a pretty damn good idea what they’re capable of, and what
they’re not, from massive accumulations of evidence over the years that point to
clear and specific assumptions about their behavior. Of course, it’s unreasonable
to assume every last detail can be determined with exact precision, but we do hav
e a good approximation based on extensive research, field and lab, and it isn’t wh
at you think.”
“You know you’re really terribly naive if you believe these creatures can ev
er be controlled or tamed,” Portwine railed against him; thoroughly frustrated wi
th Intinman at this point, working him up over nothing; self-righteous to the last
and out to do the world some good by starting out on the wrong foot.
“They don’t need to be tamed—that’s the whole point I’ve been trying to
make, you idiot!” Intinman responded furiously. “It isn’t part of my plan for their
preservation to begin training them for a circus act,” he explained; offended almo
st to the point of being ready to lunge at the grossly disfigured man. “They need t
o be saved because they are too valuable to let die.”
“There he goes...,” he said turning his head slyly to one side; to the lawyer
on his left. Portwine’s ghastly face and hollow, anemic eyes made a cynical ghost
of an impression. Circumstances had turned his life upside down, broken like a d
raught horse, and the only strength he found was in the hope of causing at least a
s much pain as he’d endured in his life. “The great scientist who’s only concern is
for his accursed beasts,” Portwine mocked in a somewhat belligerent tone that m
ade Intinman examine his face closely, wondering if he was drunk.
“What?—you don’t understand anything, you prattling little whelp, and I f
eel sorry for saying that because it’s obvious you’ve been through a lot in your life
–a fact that concerns me more than you know–but you must at some point look b
eyond yourself and your own selfish cares and see the wider picture of what can
be gained from this experience...what it could mean to a greater understanding of
ourselves, who we are and how we developed. Do you have any inkling of what a
n opportunity this is?”
Though Intinman didn’t realize it, his eyes took on an unusual shade as he
spoke, folding back into themselves like a long series of unlocked doors thrown o
pen, revealing unlimited passageways inside; infinite to the very depths of his so
ul. He bore the burden of his own private chaos without difficulty.
“Yeah, I realize it’s an opportunity for you!” Portwine snapped back to the
direct question–seconds later, adding, “To make a name for yourself and secure a
place in the history books!”
“You seem obsessed with the idea that I desire to become famous or make
money from the situation,” Intinman responded in genuine disbelief.
“Well...aren’t you? Isn’t everybody?” Portwine answered, cynically; smiling
at his own apparent insight into the grave malevolence of the human condition.
“You are in a position to take advantage of the situation more than anyone else.”
“To tell you the truth I haven’t given it much thought. I’m really only conce
rned about the welfare of the animals above all else,” he remarked like a precocio
us child talking about a future ambition.
“Ha-ha-ha! I don’t believe it...,” Portwine grinned dubiously, luridly, “...but if
what you say is true then you’re a rare thing in this world and won’t stand a chan
ce in the waters you’re swimming in.”

Chapter 9

The reporters standing with microphones at the ready were thoroughly sc

andalized by such unusually frank conversation being uttered in their presence, b
ut were admirably adaptive; a veritable marvel of Darwinian evolution. They enj
oyed and captured the controversy in all its glory; its very essence in fact with pa
ssion; after the fashion of lawyers creating genuine emotion from loosely interpr
eted facts.
“I’m not sure what you mean...nor am I sure I wanna know,” Intinman repli
ed with considerable frustration.
“You’re a fool...,” Portwine decided, “...if you can’t comprehend what I talkin
g about, and a liar if you do.”
And even with the damning incrimination (and not being guilty as charge
d) Intinman still had no idea what the man was driving at and was beginning to q
uestion his sanity.
“If you mean, “am I selfish”, of course I am to a certain extent–isn’t everybo
dy? The only point we differ on is the interpretation of what the word means. To
me, it arises from a perspective of long-term survival for myself and the people I
value in my life, not short-sighted behavior executed at the expense of others. He
nce the basic meaning of the term, “self-ish”...,” he pronounced, significantly, “...an
d everything it implies: striving for the improvement of self and one’s personal lif
e–which, in my view, naturally includes the environment as well as other people–
something your definition doesn’t allow for at all. In fact, it seems rather cold an
d disconnected and suggests an advanced sociological illness!” He regarded Port
wine with a pitying scorn as directed at a misguided child.
“Survival, that’s where we part company...,” Portwine mumbled somberly
(with a sadness unlike anything Intinman had ever heard before; that of the hope
lessly lost), “...because I believe these creatures will end up killing us all–and let
me just say right off that survival is about either being with us or against us,” he e
xclaimed throwing his chest and chin out in one simultaneous maneuver that was
remarkable to behold, then turned sharply and directed his comments to the cac
he of microphones anxiously awaiting his attention; ready, at the drop of a hat to
capture the ebullient flow of sagacity coming out of his mouth. Intinman and Por
twine converged on one another, trading spirited words back and forth for severa
l minutes–a virtual broadcast storm where nothing was clear or distinct for a dro
wned out moment. The static became unbearable due to improper distance corr
elations and was hastily remedied by the reporters.
Portwine lowered his gaze and faced the cameras, aggressively, as if the le
ns had suddenly become his worst enemy.
“By “us” I take it you mean human beings?” Intinman inquired, excitedly.
“What else?”
“Doesn’t our survival depend on our ability to adjust to a changing conditi
ons in the environment?”
“Huh? Well...yes, I guess so–what are you driving at?” Portwine grumbled
with his lawyers at his side like modern-day bulwarks of custom and society. Pill
ars in crisp suits.
“I mean our ability to survive depends on how well we adjust to change, ri
ght? Not by living in fear or wanting to see everything that might cause us inconv
enience stamped out?”
“Well, isn’t that exactly what I’m doing here?” Portwine returned confident
ly, “Responding intelligently by defending our interests?” He looked tired and wo
rn-out as the same old formula was repeated before a new audience.
“From change?”
“That’s exactly what he’s doing,” declared Bennett.
Intinman elaborated, “Defending yourself from being forced to adjust to u
nforseen circumstances?”
“You’re just twisting my words around,” Portwine complained; beginning t
o whine now like a child. He realized, to his dismay, that he was being outmaneuv
ered; knight takes queen. But how was it being done?
“If change doesn’t serve our interests we have every right to fight against i
t! That’s the way we adapt!” Portwine asserted boldly.
To which Intinman countered: “And are we supposed to act that way forev
er?–as the arbiters of life and death by deciding what nature can and cannot intro
duce in the world because it might be inconvenient for us?”
Portwine was aghast–inconvenient! The nerve of the man! It was like hav
ing a conversation with a complete lunatic. The lawyers meanwhile shuffled une
asily at his side, groping in their pockets for things they didn’t need and trying to
forget their discomfort. “You talk like a man who wants to see all of us killed!” Po
rtwine leveled against him.
“Stop giving me all this science-fiction nonsense will you!” Intinman hurle
d at him, reaching the very limits of patience. “You are an intelligent man, at least
I thought you were up to this point–so you must know what you’re saying isn’t tr
ue. These creatures are not naturally vicious; but something tells me you already
know that because you’d have to, a man in your position, with loads of informatio
n at your disposal. You must’ve read the research, at least in passing, yet you still
continue to deny the truth. Why?” he stared into Portwine’s milky, unfocused eye
s with a curiously probing stare. “The bears are simply seeking to survive in a wo
rld where we’re certainly a much greater threat to their survival than they are to
ours–it isn’t hard to understand. They’re reacting the same way you, I or anyone
else would in a competitive situation where it’s possible there may be only one vi
ctor. You of all people should know that. You represent a group that considers its
elf of higher intelligence, morally superior too, worthy of unusual consideration f
or proposing extreme measures and extenuating circumstances for ending their l
ives.”
 “Would a morally superior species really react the way you do–with blind f
aith in a presumed species superiority?” Bennett challenged him openly, evoking
no ready response.
“And these beings you portray as such monsters; beings out of a nightmare
drama one would expect from your description...” Intinman was growing more fu
rious the more he wrestled with Portwine, “...we’re worse than anything you coul
d even come up with as far as they’re concerned.” He was growing bewildered by
the lengthy confrontation, glancing around himself as though unsure of where he
was, wearing a face flushed and sagging from exhaustion.
“The way they’ve been persecuted by people it’s no surprise they behave li
ke monsters at times,” Dr. James’ voice was added to the choir. “The very way you
want to treat them now.”
“This is what science has come to,” Portwine sneered openly; grandstandi
ng for the crowd as they huddled around him close. He flung an arm over his hea
d waving a finger at the sky in an all-encompassing gesture that had an electrifyi
ng effect on his fans. “Mark my words...,” he declared in a plea of unconcealed bra
vado, “...these men just want to have a free hand amusing themselves with their p
recious little freaks of nature so they can nurture them closely and someday lose
control and unleash them on the world!”
Then in afterthought he reflected: “Or maybe they’ll do it deliberately with
the hope of gaining some power or advantage by intimidating other people...com
e to think of it, maybe that’s been their goal from the start.”
Intinman fired back, “Mr. Portwine you are just about the lousiest bastard
I’ve ever met and I’d really like to take a poke at you sometime!” Portwine’s l
awyers smiled their most subtly devious smiles at this scathing remark. The stra
tagem had worked: the great man and scientist had been called out and dragged
off his pedestal in front of the crowd and was now raw meat for them. The oppor
tunity had been seized to make him look like a madman in front of the cameras; k
nowing full well that arguments and threats always make it on the news, substant
ive or not.
“What do you say to Mr. Portwine’s claim that you are merely trying to sav
e these creatures for your own personal gain?” One of the reporters asked Intinm
an, gazing at him with an unblinking curiosity that was thoroughly unnerving.

“Why is it so hard to believe that I want these creatures to live simply beca
use of what they are and not because of anything they can do for me?”
“So you’re saying you don’t have any personal ambitions where they’re co
ncerned?” the reporter inquired with a note of uncertainty.
“Oh my god!” he threw up his hands in futility. “What do you want me to s
ay? That I wish to direct the largest laboratory in the world, with a largest staff, l
argest budget, have international recognition at my feet and my name circulating
through all the scientific journals? Is that what you want to hear?”
“Only if it’s true, Dr....is it?” the reporter inquired with piqued interest and
the same penetrating stare; realizing instantly he’d made a mistake when Intinm
an’s face blew up and expanded in a miraculous loss of control.
“If they crucified me and dragged my name through the dirt, threw me in j
ail or filled me with bullet holes, it would all still be worth it as long as the animal
s were safe and protected,” he declared desiring nothing more than to jump as hig
h as he could in the air and pounce on somebody like a drooling beast.
 “Hah!” said Portwine sharply, “I don’t believe it.”
“I don’t give a damn what you believe you wretched little creep!—” Intinm
an exclaimed; moving rapidly in his direction until he felt a strong tug against his
shoulder. It was Bennett. “Don’t do it,” he heard being whispered in his ear; a sin
gle, somber warning and a strong tendency in the opposite direction, that was all.
The lawyers smirked privately to themselves once again.
Another reporter asked: “What are your plans now? Are you returning to
White River to rejoin the protest?”
“Yes,” was the simple reply. “That’s where the front line still exists in the fi
ght to save the Superspecies and I choose to remain there until we’ve either mana
ged to stop the government or it’s completed its work. Dr. James and I are headin
g back together.”
And with that the four of them descended the final steps of the Capitol out
to the broad front lawn leading to the road, but not before one of reporters fired
one last question; this time aimed at Intinman’s companion: “Dr James...” a lusty,
big-chested voice began; trailing behind them with all the eagerness of a solemn
vocational duty, “...how would you comment on the proceedings today and what d
o you plan to do now as America’s foremost defender of the Superspecies?”
“The proceedings went unexpectedly well, I thought,” Dr. James confirmed
thoughtfully. “The committee informed us it’s going to try to put a stop to the acti
vities at White River until they’re able to conduct a full investigation into the EPA’
s activities there and all the other sites they’ve worked at. They’ve just informed
us they’re going to recommend the Supreme Court slap an injunction on their act
ions in the park and place a temporary restraint on the slaughter.” He stopped w
alking for a moment and turned around to face his tireless pursuer, “As for what
I’m gonna to do now: the most important thing is to stop the extermination in Col
orado any way we can. Which means, as Dr. Intinman’s already pointed out, we g
o back there and continue to stir up support for the preservation.”
“Do you believe your newly acquired fame with the American people will
be enough to draw enough attention to the issue and win the right amount of sym
pathy for the animals?”
“I don’t wish to speculate on that at this time. There are too many factors
at play here, but if my fame can in any way help them, I’m willing to lend it and an
ything else I have to the cause,” he said without reservation.
“Thank you,” the reporter closed with him.
“Intinman glanced back to see Portwine still encircled by a vibrant throng
of reporters, hanging on every word like the sweetest grapes off the vine, and he i
n perfect form. He made passionate faces while tossing off wild assertions and pr
edictions with arms flailing about him in trite rhetorical emphasis; grimacing like
a man possessed. Intinman laughed oddly to himself and felt glad (for many reas
ons) to be finally getting away from this place.
Back at Intinman’s rowhouse, the weary Dr. lay on the sofa while Bennett a
nd Carlin busied themselves in the kitchen preparing salads and sandwiches for a
ll of them to eat. James and Intinman meanwhile remained in the living room wat
ching the news reports circulating after the event, tossing off the odd remark eve
ry now and then and consuming a couple of bourbons in the hope of finding relax
ation. Presently they were watching a TV news program interviewing a spokesm
an for the EPA defending the agency’s decision to control the bear population at
White River. He said with perfect stubbornness and habitual haughtiness that he
didn’t care what the protesters did to stop the project, he would never be deterre
d from his mission. After which, a video clip of James and Intinman arguing their
respective points in front of the committee was played over and over from differe
nt angles; none of which were very flattering (they were all panned out too wide
or taken from odd directions that didn’t bring out their best “sides”, photogenicall
y, at all; an effect that was generally granted to people being portrayed favorably
by the press). The commentary also seemed vague and incomplete as if trying to
confuse people. Certainly more than was necessary for what seemed a straightfo
rward issue with two clearly defined viewpoints. But that was of little concern, o
r wonder, for watchers whose only aim in life was to find passing amusement, ent
ertainment or interesting topic of conversation from their hour or so of contact w
ith the outside world, and needed to be told how to think.
After finishing his drink, Intinman washed it down with a glass of water, s
wallowing a couple of aspirins at the same time to quell an aching headache that
had developed in the last half hour, leaving him pale and listless. The headache w
as borne of fatigue he said to himself. He had a cup of tea to calm his nerves, findi
ng himself in deep reflection after the day’s events–a perfect example of frail hum
anity brought very near the breaking point. Under constant pressure tearing do
wn his will and straining the soul underneath until it sought, and needed, tempor
ary retreat. Rest was needed. Lots of it.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t time to do anything but prepare for the next b
attle. All the rest he needed would have to be gotten by tomorrow morning beca
use in the afternoon they were returning to Colorado to resume the fight; allowin
g little time to escape the world’s clutches.
In the background, the air was filled with the idle chatter of Carlin and Ben
nett arguing over the respective merits of the Guinean exhibition at the National
Gallery of Art: “It was refreshing to see such masterful examples of primitive for
ms of expression. They’re absolutely wonderful!” Carlin gushed openly. “It really
gives one a strong sense of where we come from and makes me wonder why peo
ple put so much effort into avoiding the beauty and lessons of the past–simplicity,
mainly, and being in touch with our common thread in history.”
Bennett replied in turn, “Human beings are the only creatures on earth try
ing to dissociate themselves completely from their primitive origins instead of co
ming to grips with them and discovering how they relate to life today. Integrating
them into our common understanding.” It was certainly a strange discussion to b
e having with anyone, but not perhaps for this particular group who found it nece
ssary and fruitful to compare the current ways of the species to its ancestors in a
n attempt to gain some insight and perspective on both sets of behaviors. Perhap
s, it was an occupational hazard.
“People tend to be intimidated by the primitive side of our nature that resi
des within each one of us, often repressing it violently with society’s approval, w
hich, despite all attempts, still manages to blast through these barriers into the h
uman awareness with occasional disastrous results,” observed Dr. Carlin.
Intinman found this all rather shocking, what she was saying, though on o
ccasion he’d been guilty of talking about it before, but was too tired to make a rep
ly or ask for clarification on the seemingly obscure proposition just now. He wish
ed to; but for the moment nothing seemed possible except surrendering to the he
adache dream state he’d stumbled into and couldn’t leave until it left him.
“A damning indictment,” Bennett’s voice burst through the sluggish air, “bu
t perhaps true.”
“It is true,” she replied confidently, “Don’t you recall M. E. Morton’s work o
n the subject? It was nearly twenty years ago he published his findings.”
Bennett didn’t say anything for awhile, then abruptly declared, “Yes, I do r
emember, come to think of it, he died a couple years ago.”
“That’s right,” she replied enthusiastically. “He was very old when he came
up with his theory on dire conflicts between fundamental human nature and soci
al expectations in society–how they inevitably collide; outlining the problems tha
t result in antisocial behavior. He spent the remainder of this life supporting the t
heory.”
There was a long pause during which everyone was silently still absorbing
the events of the early morning, trying to sort it all out and determine if there wa
s some clue written between the lines they might’ve overlooked; reliving it over a
nd over again. Prediction sought the appearance of a final outcome. Hope that di
ligent work would, in the end, be rewarded and not allow the situation to become
bleak.
“What do you think of our chances?” someone finally asked, like a rustle of
wind in a suspended silence; sounding a bit hesitant in the asking. Intinman coul
dn’t tell who’d said it at first as he reclined on the sofa, facing up to the ceiling wit
h his mind wandering a billion different directions at once. The headache made h
is visions quite colorful though, tinged with every facet of the tragic side of life an
d everything that could conceivably go wrong with it. He resisted everything he f
elt, tasting briefly a sense of victory, then surrendered and felt more at ease while
the pain remained a dull aching nuisance; a nagging reminder of the unfortunate
situation. He heard everything going on around him clear as a bell but sounding f
araway.
Again a sluggish air loomed over all of them that seemed to last an intermi
nably long time. James’ voice was the first to rise above it:
“It’s hard to say. Jesus, you saw what those senators were like! Who know
s what might happen in this crazy, unpredictable world of politics and public opin
ion, anyway? It’s a bunch of smoke and mirrors to anyone on the outside and cha
nges quicker than the tides and weather.” He glanced at each one of them, allowi
ng his eyes to come to rest finally on Intinman’s reclining frame on the sofa–posit
ioned with one arm atop his head, wistfully.
“It doesn’t matter,” Bennett replied, “We did the best we could under the ci
rcumstances–couldn’t ask for anything more–we came here to do a job and did it
impressively well, I believe.”
“Here! Here!” chanted Dr. Carlin, “Now, let’s all stop looking so depressed.
If the way you went at ‘em doesn’t convince the Congress to change its mind then
we never had a chance to begin with.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” sighed Dr. James.
The voices rang in Intinman’s ear like a command he wished to respond to,
but was all too lost in his thoughts about the many awful things that might be ha
ppening now at White River as he lay there resting. His right wrist remained lim
ply poised against his forehead (as if glued there) and he saw a vision of the last b
ear on earth being cornered, no escape left–shot to death–or having its internal o
rgans, brain and lungs turned to soup inside its convulsing body after being expo
sed to some classified military grade chemical “bomb” designed for the purpose.
He witnessed the helpless, terrified stare of the animal in his mind and worried h
e was developing a fever the more vivid his hallucinations became. As if he were
seeing the future no one else in the room could see. The tyrannical species, man,
using all of its devices to control and destroy anything that got in its way. The hu
man figure of his imagination transformed gradually into a sickening red-faced cr
eature with multiple sets of horns and a lurid smile over gnashing and grinning t
eeth; shining, glaring eyes that saw everything without compassion, reason or un
derstanding; because everything had been wiped out of its consciousness except
one thought: survival. A blinking sign affixed to a granite statue that held up its j
ustification to the world: social Darwinism–our sacred creed! The reasoning for
human existence in its most dishonorable forms.
“Survival?!!” Intinman cried out from the depths of his nightmare, causing
the others to freeze and glance at him with startled faces. He eyes grew wide for
an instant, focused on the distance, after which he fell asleep and didn’t wake unti
l morning.
“What did he say?” asked Dr. Carlin gazing at him with perched eyebrows.
“Is he going to be alright?”
“He’s had a rough day is all. Probably believes he’s fighting the world all b
y himself. He takes sole responsibility for everything that’s happened to the anim
als and everything they’ve done to other people.”
“He’s like their mother?” James remarked with irony, “I guess every found
er of a idea or theory feels that way to a certain extent.”
Bennett laughed bitterly at this. “He won’t rest until they’ve either been sa
ved from extinction or they’re destroyed by the government. For years he’s regre
tted ever notifying the world of their existence and endangering their lives by foc
using so much attention on them.”
“I know; he’s admitted his regrets to me before,” mused Dr. James consider
ing the implications of so much personal suffering.
“He’ll be alright, won’t he?” inquired Dr. Carlin, “I mean do you think he ne
eds a doctor?”
“I don’t think so. He said he was tired, not sick, and I’m trusting he would
of said something otherwise. We’ll wait and see how he turns out in the mornin
g.”
Meanwhile, in Intinman’s dreams that night he was visited by the legendar
y white ghost bear: a young sow with cubs that looked down on him with disappr
oval for all the wrong he had done in exposing them to mankind, but in the end w
as forgiving and weeped for his suffering. Her cubs huddled close at her side kee
ping up a substantial wailing he thought would eventually pierce his eardrums. S
uddenly, a somber old Indian figure descended from the sky and danced around i
n a circle adorned in full buffalo headdress, colorful feathers, and ornately decora
ted boots made of some animal’s hide–jangling with bells. The figure floated abo
ve him, blessing him, several, hundreds, thousands of times, chanting in a tongue
Intinman couldn’t understand, but sensed remotely to be an intimate exhortation
not to feel any pain or guilt for the unintended results of his actions. He was unta
inted still and wouldn’t be held responsible for what others had done or what wa
s happening to the sacred creatures of the earth. It was all part of the great circle
—the circle of life–however tragic. He slept soundly that night following this affir
mation arriving from mysterious origins.

Chapter 10
 Matte Spenser squinted as she stood staring at the sky above through her t
hick plastic respirator mask feeling a deep sense of loathing for the expanding pl
ume circulating around her; a brown and purple mass that filled the air as far as t
he eye could see in a rapidly changing field of vision. She was standing in the mid
dle of it and felt it absorbing her, blunting her awareness as much as her passion f
or living; hopelessly caught in the middle of her gleefully murdering brethren. It
was midday but the sun appeared only as a hazy object in the sky obscured by th
e smoke-filled skyline while the helicopters whipped past overhead, first one dire
ction then the other dumping thousands of gallons of poison into the air. A foul d
ischarge from a foul beast that floated down and spread out laterally dispersing s
unlight into sickening orange rays that seemed to be expelled from a dying sun.
She felt a strong tug on her shoulder pulling her forward and stumbled un
controllably. “Look out!” she heard a commanding voice yell and turned sharply i
n its direction, tripping and falling at last to glimpse through blurred vision as a f
amily of deer bolted past at breakneck speed.
“Thanks,” she said rubbing her elbow that came down a little too hard agai
nst the ground and broke the skin. She saw Falcon cracking a half-concealed grin
though his mask; waving in acknowledgment at the same time, followed by a batt
ery of shots blasting through the smoke: the four deer were put down only twent
y feet from where they were last seen.
“Watch out and be more careful!” he warned her; studying her face for a pr
olonged minute to make sure she understood. “There are likely to be a lot more a
nimals trying to escape this living hell!”
Falcon had suffered a terrible morning after learning that Dr. Spencer’s att
empt to stop the delegate from going ahead with the fumigation of the park had f
ailed miserably. Lengthy explanations to the effect that they’d discovered no bear
s in the park during their weeks in the field had proven unsuccessful, being met o
nly with harsh, short, impatient refusals by the decidedly hot-headed EPA directo
r. We would stick to the original plan he barked at her over the phone because it
was too difficult to alter the established course of action now. Besides, he noted,
plans were plans, and these particular ones had served them well enough in the p
ast to warrant considerable respect and any deviation at this point would require
serious deliberation on the part of the administration. All of which made the dele
gate as pleased as could be. He seemed unable to contain his excitement through
out most of the day; casting sly glances in Dr. Spenser’s direction and grinning an
d gloating constantly, whom he felt he’d beaten badly this time, and appeared as s
pry as a foal for the privilege.
Overhead the propellers thundered; beating incessantly and ominously lik
e bloodthirsty birds of prey as large groups of animals stampeded out of the fores
t at incredible speeds from every direction, forcing them to keep a cautious eye o
ut all around to avoid being trampled. They stood along the outer reaches of the
“drop zone” where the chemicals were being dumped in certain key areas to reac
h maximum dispersion throughout the park; looking very much like a battlefield–
especially taking into account the long line of hunters along the park’s perimeter
shooting the last fleeing and suffocating animals as they twitched and gasped for
air in the final moments of life. Falcon was forced to resist an urge to put a few ch
oice bullet holes in these cold-blooded executioners as they filled the terrified ani
mals with hot lead: foxes, elk, mountain goats, scores of deer, raccoons–all innoce
nts–making their final desperate flights to safety; which proved to be just beyond
their reach. The hunters laughed, cheered, slapped each other’s backs or became
belligerent during the unseemly chaos; blasting away at anything that moved; ma
king a game of it, challenging one another to shoot at select body parts: the head,
neck or lungs–or between the eyes. Occasionally, making bets. Joyously chucklin
g, joking and whooping it up with distinct sounds that echoed through the forest
and rattled Falcon’s ears as the delegate himself became swept up in the action; l
eading the charge into a finer appreciation of plunder and waste. The entire affai
r permeated by painful cries: wolves howling, bears wailing, moose running blind,
and deer–all blending together into one horrific death scene–inciting thrills in an
invisible enemy just prior to the kill; loud, shrieking and gorging on death.
Everybody in the field was dressed in a white impermeable chemical suits
complete with respirator masks and over-the-shoulder oxygen tanks while some
of the facial coverings developed a light mist inside that fogged the plastic around
the mouth. A clear indication of living, breathing beings inside presently acting a
s wanton destroyers of life because chance and occasion permitted. Justification
had been given by the proper authorities and sanctioned by long deliberated gro
up decision: moral, philosophical, political, economic–the exact form didn’t matte
r. It’d become the acting principle to guide this particular action and that’s all tha
t did.
Falcon’s rifle lay at his side as he witnessed what seemed to be crime of the cent
ury being committed before his eyes: a violation of nature, life, and sanity all. Th
e brown haze circling him changed from red to orange to sickly yellow as he watc
hed the sun descending below the horizon taking his stomach along with it. They
had been at all day. He asked himself how safe it was to be standing right in the c
enter of it, whether it wouldn’t end up giving him some rare, incurable disease, a
nd labored hastily to erase the thought from his head. Curiosity had gotten the b
etter of him by bringing him out here in the first place but seeing it for himself ha
d only shown him how grotesque and sickening it was–infuriating too!–worse tha
n anything he’d ever imagined. Something he would’ve preferred to forget the m
oment he saw it, but there it was. Rick argued with him over coming (he himself,
wouldn’t) but he’d ignored his pal’s stern warnings. So now he stood there marv
eling at the insanity of his fellows and his own for participating in such disgracef
ul acts and any collection of beings capable of committing them. Another crash w
as heard behind him followed by ground shaking thud–a big prize buck–graced w
ith a beautiful set of antlers, was dropped at only fifty feet away by a crack shot.
The familiar whoop went up as Falcon’s fingers traced the outline of the rif
le at his hip dropping his brow savagely; electricity ran through his veins almost l
ifting the rifle without effort. He stopped and looked at the hunter’s face, dredgin
g up an image of him in his mind with his grotesque smile covered in blood; laugh
ing over the dead figure of him. Bastard.
“Hey, you O.K.?” a voice drifted up to him.
“Huh? Yeah. What I mean is...”
“Uh-huh...I know what you mean. You’d like to kill one of those bastards. I
t’s written all over your face,” Dr. Spenser said.
“Really? Well, I suppose it’s pretty hard to conceal the truth,” he observed
thoughtfully; something she found rather humorous, gazing at him with a wide gr
in, eyes twinkling with laughter.
“It’s much worse than I imagined.”
 “I wish Morey were here...,” she confessed, “...he always knew how to handl
e these animals, better than me, and I don’t mean the ones being slaughtered righ
t now.”
“You didn’t do so bad back there standing up for me,” he replied sounding
surprised at her confession. “You certainly have changed a lot from my first impr
ession of you, that’s for damn sure!”
“A lot has changed since then. Don’t thank me.”
Talking through the respirator masks was complex process of overcoming both th
e physical obstruction of the mask itself and the significant background noise all
around them, making an arduous task out of the events as they unfolded. Each fa
ctor proving difficult in its own right for trying to listen and be heard by another
person without being able to see them all too clearly. In practice it played out as
cumbersome lot of shouting and forming awkward hand gestures that didn’t alwa
ys translate very well, as though carrying on a heated argument without the heig
htened emotion. Not to mention the fact that stray mists of colored poison drifte
d past from time to time and their masks fogged up continually from condensatio
n. Falcon asked himself if the experience was worth the trouble but was unable t
o tear himself away at that point. His world was being torn apart before his eyes
and there was nothing at all to prevent it. It was going to happen whether he wit
nessed it or not; he might as well see it firsthand and remember it forever than b
e left with a burning question all his life. No stopping it he told himself, settling b
ack to watch the destruction of the world–the only world he’d ever known–fall to
pieces before his eyes. A life he’d always believed to be sacred, tranquil, everlasti
ng; deserving of praise, reverence and protection.
Another whoop sailed up above the surging cloudstorm and Falcon wonde
red idly whether the voice crashed up against the sky as it ascended into the blue
and out of sight. If, perhaps, nature had simply absorbed the sound without passi
ng judgement, holding it to her breast, like so many other outrages of life. It rose
like a lone confession in the hollows of an old and sanctified church, bouncing off
the walls of infiniteness and perishing in miraculous muffle of silence. A brief mo
ment that became assimilated back into the scheme of creation like a desperate p
lea. Man, the foolish little monkey, finds nature an unruly and unyielding compan
ion, constant in nature; thriving on the illusion that comfort and splendor can be
achieved in doubly dissociating from its grasp and, at the same time, managing it
effectively and clinically at arm’s length. Where this illusion came from no one co
uld say with any measure of certainty because it had become so buried in the hu
man consciousness as to be concealed from view. It exists–that’s all we know. Sti
ll, the monkey continues to tie its security to the notion that nature can be subdu
ed and made to serve its needs–every fleeting one–all the while keeping the jungl
e at bay. The natural world maintains no place in the artificial existence it seeks t
o occupy; figuring only as something to be avoided in the “equation” of life. Parad
ise sought and found in a complete separation from the environment and kept ali
ve by the efforts of the truly devout.
Several species of animals came flying out of the forest choking and coughing and
suffocating on the variety of toxins in the air as a giant cloud whipped right by th
e nose of a fox passing on one side of a wilting aspen tree; gasping and moaning a
nd coughing up blood. The hunters laughed and pointed at the poor, wretched cr
eature, satisfied to let it go on suffering just for the fun of watching it happen. Mo
rtal agony was not only entertaining to this unsavory bunch, it was perhaps outd
one only by death itself. God, these horrible bastards were enjoying this murder
spree too much, Falcon said to himself (he had to do something!). His brain was e
xploding with white hot emotions, anger and hatred mostly, with burning sensati
ons shooting down to the pit of his stomach and along the length of his spine.
“You don’t appear to be enjoying this very much,” Spenser understated uni
formly; glancing away from him toward the delegate, who wore a big stupid grin
on his face, growing wider the more the fox suffered in the distance.
“These guys are freakin’ savages,” he exclaimed, “They’re animals!”
“Worse than that...,” she trundled back, “...animals usually have a reason for
what they do and aren’t unduly cruel about it.”
“I never imagined it would be this bad!” he confessed with a face full of sw
eat.
The helicopters made another pass overhead with their propellers thrashi
ng through the chilly air releasing another enormous cloud that spilled like pestic
ide onto the spoiled earth only more slowly. It began as a giant umbrella opening
up and expanding out in all directions; the colors, first, yellow with a purple tinge,
then changing rapidly to an indescribable mix of hues. After blending with the ai
r, the last remaining fragments of sunlight turned the cloud a bright orange, then
red, and a foul brown that was horrible, dense and smelled of burnt rubber.
Suddenly, shots rang out from an unknown direction and Falcon heard one whizz
by so close to his ear his body jolted upright as if to salute the deadly intruder. Th
ey both glanced around. Spenser’s face appeared as puzzled as his and they notic
ed several of the hunters also looking at each other with inquisitive stares. They
paced in circles; jerky stop-start motions that defied conventional reason; searchi
ng for the cause of the attack. A few more bullets zinged past and Falcon dove to
the ground grabbing Spenser’s wrist about midway and taking her along with hi
m.
“Get down!” he screamed at her.
It was obvious to him they were being targeted by a sniper. The bullets ca
me from somewhere in the middle of the swirling cloud. But where? Looking aro
und, he notice several of the savvier hunters clutching the ground and the delegat
e on the radio, barking out a series of orders, more than likely calling the helicopt
er above to look out for anything suspicious on the ground. Smart move–impress
ive, too! But what could possibly be seen in all that mess? It had turned into a m
onstrous chaos beyond even the creator’s control once set in motion. Falcon duc
ked down, peering through the intermittent clarity in the fog as the helicopters, t
hree in all, kept up a swift system of advance and retreat within a sixty mile radiu
s that covered all the boundaries of the park. Meanwhile, the protesters outside a
long the perimeter, near the fences, choked and coughed or wore gas masks, yelli
ng and screaming repetitive slogans over and over again, pumping their fists in th
e air; some armed with megaphones. The pulsing of the propellers, coming and g
oing, dropping and reloading, kept up a steady pace over the course of about five
hours. While outside people rattled the fences, threw objects or shouted at the to
ps of their lungs for it to stop or continue depending on their persuasion.
Falcon raised the rifle to his eye, uncertain which direction to point it at ne
xt. The shots had ceased but the hunters, still flat on their stomachs, seemed less
than enthusiastic about getting up again. He wasn’t thrilled about it either, but di
d, figuring instinctively that the sniper was probably out of ammunition or had cu
t-and-run to elude capture. He stared at his hands, trembling. As he rose he noti
ced, next to him, the figure of Dr. Spenser who’d attained a fair degree of assuranc
e in his prophetic capabilities, trusting she wouldn’t be injured as long as she foll
owed his lead. Her faith was unexpected, perhaps unwarranted, and seeing it ma
de him hunker down more cautiously; he said to her, “Wonder where the hell that
came from?” searching through the mist opening up the occasional peep hole; the
silhouettes of which–plants, rocks and trees–could be viewed only briefly, but not
hing that looked like a human figure or rifle barrel. The shot could’ve come from
anywhere he reminded himself so as not to get discouraged. Then, out of the cor
ner of his eye he glimpsed movement: something running out from behind a patc
h of dense undergrowth on the other side of a slight ridge. Couldn’t have been an
animal his brain blurted, unsolicited, as vegetation disappeared and reappeared t
hrough the mist at odd intervals. It was getting dark and objects had no distinct
hues anymore–only two major ones: black and blacker. He sensed movement aga
in behind a tree–sure of it that time! One of the hunters just out of range must’ve
seen it too because he let off three shots in the exact direction Falcon was looking.
A startled shriek was heard along with the sound of a more rapid scurrying up a
n embankment, after which, the figure disappeared out of sight.
“Environmental extremists, most likely, what d’ya think?” Spenser said; sti
ll peering off in the direction of the noise. A high-pitched squealing reached their
ears that increased in intensity until fatal realization finally kicked in. “Holy shit!
Get down!” Falcon shouted, pulling her down a second time.
A deafening sound followed–an explosion; bursting like the obliteration of
a humongous wall of glass that reached all the way up to the heavens; wrenching
the very atoms out of the air and disturbing the ground under their feet.
“What was that?” she cried out in terror.
“Rockets, dammit! They’ve got bazookas whoever the hell they are! Keep
your head down.” He pushed her face so hard against the ground she felt her teet
h scrape the dirt; handling her like a child in need of careful attention in unfamili
ar surroundings. Another fiery rocket whistled through the air, accompanied by
a devilish white flash that uprooted several trees and sent tons of sooty earth flyi
ng in every direction. Some of the hunters were still standing like statues as the l
ast missile came within range of one of the fool’s legs, causing him to pitch forwar
d and land on his face violently. The delegate himself stood still, frozen in place, a
s if trying to retain his command or simply startled out of his senses.
“Get down you bastard!” Falcon shouted automatically at his rather inexpli
cable behavior, “Can’t you see what’s going on here?”
“Hit the ground!” Matte pleaded, although she didn’t care much for the ma
n she was presently trying to save. Reacting out of pure concern for the living tha
t ought to remain that way.
Then the inevitable happened: one of the hunters standing in suspended d
isbelief instead of diving immediately to the ground was shot while still frozen to
his spot. A single bullet sailed through the air, sure and true, hitting just below th
e heart, after passing easily through his ribs. He screamed once and went down, t
wisting violently to one side and crumpled in a near fetal position, bloody and wh
impering. A high-powered rifle no doubt. The delegate finally perceived the dan
ger (though unaccustomed to being threatened in this manner–he’d always been
the threat himself) hurled himself onto the ground, yelling for the others to follo
w suit or get behind something.
“Idiot!” Falcon couldn’t help muttering under his breath. This was simply
getting out of hand. He’d never experienced such blatant incompetence and misa
pprehension in any life and death situation before, especially from someone who
faced it frequently. Shocked and ashamed and having a strong desire to be the on
ly person, if necessary, left with a sliver of sanity in an extremely deadly situation
–and keeping as low to the ground as possible–he tossed his backpack over his sh
oulder and headed straight for the wounded man. Recalling with a pang as he loo
ked behind that Rick hadn’t come along. So, alone and in no hurry, and peering in
every direction as he went, he crawled over to the man’s position and laid down.
The delegate was wearing a scowl when Falcon caught a brief glimpse of h
im through the haze. He started to get up.
“Stay down you goddamned fool! What’s the matter with you?” he flailed
out at him.
“I’m still in charge of this operation and we’ve got to get up there and get those m
urdering bastards—now!” replied the delegate.
Falcon didn’t respond immediately, pausing instead to look over the condit
ion of the bloodied figure next to him.
“You ain’t gonna do nothing but get yourself killed and probably some mor
e of your men, too,” he warned. “Just stay where you are for the time being...you’r
e a fool if you don’t—I—.” He looked up and the delegate was passing some instr
uctions along his men, paying no attention to him whatsoever; no matter, he had
more pressing concerns on his hands. Removing the first aid kit from his backpa
ck, he placed a thick compress onto the wound in order to stop the blood flow. Fo
rtunately, there were no more missiles headed his direction, a great load off his m
ind; and all seemed quiet now.
Dr. Spenser crawled to Falcon’s side near the wounded man whose breathi
ng had become increasingly shorter and less frequent. Blood poured out of his ch
est and spread out all over the skin, saturating his clothes like the wellsprings of
a bottomless river that had burst its levees. His guts showed signs of coming out
too. A long, steady flow continued as if a gusher had been drilled into him and oil,
not blood, was flowing freely from the wound. Was all trying to come out? How
precarious was a life that gives up so easily for want of a few pints of precious flui
d when it struggles so hard, so desperately, in other ways to survive?
It was too much to ponder while bearing the burden of another man’s life i
n your hands. The pulse grew more erratic and the blood flowed with tremendou
s regularity as he looked on helplessly. It took three soaked compresses before it
began to slow down even noticeably. All the while the pulse got weaker.
“Christ sakes—hang on you bastard!” he grumbled angrily at the man’s un
willingness to comply; packing another tight compress on top of the blood slicke
d surface and covering his arms and shoulders at the same time. Spenser remove
d the soaked cloths, one-by-one, and placed them behind her, instinctively, as if th
e sight of them might bring them bad luck. The soldier’s crisp dark uniform look
ed a gigantic mess with a splay of crimson across the front–spoiled splendor, as it
were. As the pulse got fainter and fainter his face turned ghastly as a death’s hea
d.
“He needs a doctor,” she observed; gasping from near breathlessness. It w
as the first time she’d ever seen such a tragic and nauseating sight in her life. The
struggle for survival of one man alone and the blurring of the comfortable bound
ary between life and death suddenly became unavoidable and proved to be more
than she could handle at the moment. She turned away briefly and began to sob
without a sound.
“Take the radio. It’s on my belt. Call the air ambulance–quick!” Falcon de
manded. She obeyed reluctantly; unclipping the walkie-talkie from his carry-all s
trap and staring at it like some strange and foreign object that posed unknown an
d terrifying challenges. Tears welled up in her eyes.
“Channel 3...the emergency station...hurry!” he shouted. “I’ll give you the c
oordinates. Let me just lay this last compress and tape it down good...wait a seco
nd...almost there.... Jesus! this man needs oxygen–and blood! Let me look at my
GPS unit...hold on.” He fumbled with the object in question at the same time he w
as putting the finishing touches on the vital piece of fabric. Applying as much pre
ssure as possible without endangering the condition of the man’s wounded inter
nal organs. He placed the GPS unit in front of him, ready to read off the coordinat
es whenever she’d gotten through.
“Emergency, please respond, need a helicopter at...um, White River Nation
al Forest...immediately!” She glanced at him as if to say, ‘Is that all?’.
“Good, now we’ll sit and wait for them to respond. Hopefully, not too lon
g...” he grimaced; gazing at the poor man’s lifeless countenance and tongue that b
egan to sag out of his mouth; a thing difficult to look at.
“Where did they go?” she asked wide-eyed and thoughtfully in the directio
n the hunters had disappeared.
“To catch the attackers,” he chuckled, mockingly, “Good luck!”
“Oh!”
She stared down at the man for the first time. The helicopters had stoppe
d flying overhead and it became strangely quiet. The chemicals no longer being d
ropped from the air began to clear up, slowly at first, until all of the particles of p
oison settled back down to earth; shimmering in random places on the ground.
“The radio blurted out, “Respond emergency call.” Followed by a slight buz
zing in the background and a persistent crackling noise.
“That’s it. That’s them. Get ready...here’s the coordinates,” he said reading
them off to her, both sets of numbers, latitude and longitude; giving the pilot a pr
ecise location to hone in on. “Tell them we’re on Pyramid Peak and give them the
elevation too: we’re at around 7,500 feet I would surmise...,” looking around, “...on
gently sloping terrain, giving them plenty of places to land. Tell them that...”
She relayed the information while the voice on the other end assured the
m a helicopter would be along as soon as possible. Falcon said to inform to them
that the wounded man was close to death and needed immediate attention to ens
ure his survival.
“I must keep him alive the best I can ‘til they arrive,” he vowed after the cal
l was placed.
“How’s he doing?” she asked without letting her eyes rest on him complet
ely.
“He’s still breathing. Where is that bastard leader of his?” he cursed; glanc
ing around for the particular bastard in question but the delegate was nowhere t
o be found. However, he did notice a few of the soldiers standing behind him loo
king over his shoulder to see how things were progressing. They were shocked a
t the sight of their wounded comrade and reluctant to come any closer for fear of
contaminating his air space, at the same time concerned his bad luck might rub o
ff on them.
“Is he gonna be alright?” said one of the soldiers, beret in hand, so delicate
ly, it were as if he were asking for somebody’s hand in marriage rather than inqui
ring about a fallen comrade. He spoke in a vague Midwestern accent filled with e
ntreaty.
“I sure hope so otherwise I’ve been wasting my time,” Falcon barked back i
n a bitter humor that didn’t quite come out the way he had planned. Of course, tr
ying to sound hopeful under the circumstances was a considerable challenge that
meant overcoming some formidable obstacles, both personal and material. Perh
aps it was a mistake to try to introduce any measure of levity into a situation that
demanded the utmost seriousness but he felt he needed to make the attempt any
how.
“Jesus, sir,” the soldier-hunter remarked; verbally struggling, “He looks awf
ul. Is he going to die?”
“And he probably only looks half as bad as he feels, if you know what I mea
n. I’m not sure, yet,” Falcon said, this time without any humor.
The hunter said nothing but lingered awhile–as long as was necessary and
proper–then disappeared quietly out of sight to take part in a general search of th
e area for snipers. He was quickly replaced by others, standing in the spot he had
vacated with their rifles at their sides, curious and tentative.
A little ways off several raccoons and squirrels came wobbling out of the t
hinning clouds of mist, choking, crawling and puking up a beige, green substance
that looked to be mixed with blood. They lay on the ground with their chests hea
ving and their lungs pumping out unnatural sucking sounds, like a vacuum, at the
same time their eyes gleamed in a suffering, lifeless languor. Spenser stood up, to
ying with a small twig between her fingers, twirling and bending it impulsively a
nd saying, “I’ve seen it before, the animals dying like this, I always believed we we
re doing the right thing then. But now....it’s like, I’m seeing it all for the first time,
through different eyes...”
“What’s changed your mind?” He applied another compress to the wound
ed man’s chest dividing his gaze between her changing color and his; drawing un
conscious comparisons.
“Lot’s of things, I guess...,” She bent the stick to form a slight arc; nearly un
noticed by her nervous hands, “...but mostly being in charge and trying to fill Mor
ey’s shoes. Just when I think I ought to be happy because I’ve gotten everything I
ever wanted, all he had, I find I’ve completely lost faith in what I’m doing.”
“It’s a terrible dilemma. What are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know. I’m still fighting on the wrong side, I feel, and within myself.
I’ll have to do something—make a choice—I don’t what yet.” And with that she w
alked a little ways off by herself to escape the activity. When Falcon glanced up a
gain she was out of sight. He frowned in surprise.
Fifteen minutes after her abrupt disappearance, the rescue helicopter arri
ved and loaded the wounded man inside. He was affixed with an intravenous sali
ne tube held up by the medical personnel and placed on board the aircraft, then s
ecured with a set of hooks to a steel platform once inside. The delegate returned
and began assailing them with a flock of detailed questions about the man’s condi
tion; all of which served only to impede his getting immediate medical attention a
nd assuring his best chance of survival. He started in on Falcon right away and m
oved next to the medical team; becoming a insatiable miner of information after f
ailing to locate the renegade sniper and standing in the way of the rescue process
while satisfying his curiosity. The helicopter made its way into the air after the cr
ew chief got tired of the badgering questions and ordered the copter to fly away h
urriedly with an insistent thumbs up, without glancing in the delegate’s direction
to see if it was alright.
“We had no luck finding the son-of-a-bitch!” The delegate roared with a pu
ckered face; awaiting a response from anyone who dared to reply so he might be
able to vent his frustration at someone. He cocked his rifle once to emphasize ho
w upset he was, leered around in a circle under lowered eyelids and finally slung
the barrel over his shoulder, cavalierly.
“That’s too bad. You should take care of your men before you go charging
off on some wild-eyed hunt for an enemy you know nothing about. That’ll only e
nd up getting you and your men killed!” Falcon observed without looking at the d
elegate’s expression which would’ve infuriated him more than anything at the mo
ment.
“Are you telling me how to do my job?” his pitch reared up and he faced Fal
con with a bare-faced rage; however misplaced.
“No, but when a man is left for dead from your inaction I feel it’s my right t
o say something. Especially when you don’t have any idea what’s wrong with him
or whether he could be saved with your help.”
“But—you were here,” the delegate replied, lamely.
“He isn’t my man or my responsibility. You reacted badly is my point...”
“Well...the situation unfortunately leaves me no choice! First we were atta
cked by bears, fires were started all over the place and then men kidnaped; now
we’ve been shot at by “god-knows-who” and they’ve escaped! It’s all been quite a
shock to us...and me, especially.” He looked rather silly, the powerful man, with th
e troubled and uncertain boyish look on his face. Falcon had an urge to laugh out
loud at him but restrained himself and instead turned and walked toward the tru
ck. The job was finished as far as he was concerned and he’d definitely had enou
gh of this man’s bullshit for one day. He straightened his shoulders and removed
his gas mask in the manner of a person setting himself free from an enormous bu
rden–shrugging it off. The air around him looked clear but still smelled bad; and
the same could been said about his life at this point. It had been enlightening (to
say the least) seeing what depths others could sink to in pursuit of dominance an
d he was profoundly impacted by what he found.
The delegate caught up with him like a loping camel, demanding, “Where
do you think you’re going?” extremely annoyed.
“You mean to tell me you weren’t prepared for what you were getting into?
That’s just great!” Falcon’s face tightened up–scornful and malicious. “I’m sure Dr
Intinman must’ve warned you at some point about the intelligence of these creat
ures and the danger they pose to anyone trying to hunt them, but I guess you cho
se to ignore it. Didn’t you? Perhaps, you considered him a fool and everything he
said nothing but a load of high-minded, hypothetical nonsense?”
The delegate shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably giving him all the conf
irmation he needed. Body language often revealing what the lips won’t. He stare
d off into the distance toward the darkened trees: swaying in the lazy evening bre
ezes like giant feathers at the mercy of waving and invisible fingers. Above the m
oon and stars beamed down through the sky’s gauzy haze as the lighter, more bu
oyant chemicals stayed suspended in the air; breaking up and drifting apart like a
n infinite blanket torn apart by powerful sets of hands. Every little bit drifting lat
erally–growing more faint and formless all the while–fading into a backdrop of sh
immering moonlight.
“Do you believe him now?” Falcon lay forcefully; close to bawling from hys
terical laughter or utter despair he wasn’t sure which at the moment. The bound
ary felt vague.
“I—I don’t know,” the delegate said staring back at him as if he considered
it a very strange question. “I can’t deny they are intelligent,” he confessed relucta
ntly.
“Yet you still want to eliminate them?”
“Uh—well, it’s my job and how I make my living.”
“It sounds as if you’re a bit confused: you understand the reasons why the
y can’t and shouldn’t be killed yet you choose to deny it.”
“I understand why they can’t—we didn’t spot a single bear coming out of t
he forest today—I’m so sure about the “shouldn’t”. They’re damned crafty, thoug
h, I’ll give ‘em that,” he added without a hint of admiration.
“Well, that ought to go a long way toward informing you why they shouldn’
t.”
“Hey, where’s Dr. Spenser?” the delegate said; changing the subject.
“I don’t know. She took off somewhere. Probably went for a walk or some
thing.”
“Now?!” he exclaimed, “Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“After what just happened? Dammit! She’s got to be more careful!”
“Like you?” Falcon replied, eying him suspiciously; being discreet about it.
“Don’t worry about her.”
“What about him? Do you think he’s gonna be alright?” the delegate remar
ked despondently.
“Now you’re concerned about him—you who wouldn’t lift a finger to help
him before?”
“Oh–never mind!”
The project was entering its final stages and not a single bear had been kill
ed yet, forcing the delegate to do some serious soul searching and discovering wit
hin himself a painful sense of personal defeat. More than ever. How could that b
e? Matte Spenser also hadn’t returned with any measure of swiftness; troubling
him more than he could imagine for unknown reasons. Had she simply left the pr
oject?–been killed? Was she up to something to discredit him and take over his jo
b? There was always the possibility...however remote...” for the moment, he was
held captive by an ugly imagination run amok.
“I’ve asked the Secretary for permission to allow us to extend the project o
utside the boundaries of the park,” he announced suddenly and without prelimin
aries. “I feel extraordinary measures are necessary since we haven’t killed any be
ars yet.” The delegate’s gaze was searching as if sharing some terribly shameful s
ecret with an unlikely confidant.
“Damn it all! You’ve been outsmarted, can’t you see? Why don’t you just gi
ve up and go home?”
“Give up?! To a damn dumb animal? Are you serious?”
Falcon laughed: “Who’s the dumb animal?”
The delegate didn’t answer right away; shielding his gaze.
“Anyway, I’m only telling you for your own information. The press doesn’t
know about the change of plans yet and they aren’t going to if you know what I m
ean,” he glowered at Falcon suggestively with a shadowy glow appearing or seem
ing to appear in the hollows of his eyes. “I’m serious.” The delegate stared him u
p and down evaluating his potential for rebellion against authority. Though not a
advocate of that particular institution himself, particularly when it was against hi
m, it was the delegate’s duty, he felt, making other people believe even if conflicte
d with his own ideas.
“If the plan is approved by the Secretary’s office we’ll go ahead with it righ
t way.”
“How far are you willing to go? Gonna cover the entire Rockies in the proc
ess?” Falcon railed against him, glancing in disgust at the number of dead animals
left lying all around. After the dust had settled a gigantic field opened up before h
im that looked like remnants of a battle scene following a major engagement. Blo
ody, twisted, dead figures with collapsed chests and white-colored tongues saggi
ng out of their mouths lay in places everywhere with streams of red-colored regu
rgitation already beginning to dry on their fur, in their eyes, and the ground all ar
ound them; where the flow gradually came to a halt and clotted. Falcon allowed
his gaze to wander through the different shapes and sizes on the ground: some fa
ce down, others slumped on their backs or sides: deer, moose, fox, raccoon, chip
munks, hawks and eagles–everything except bears. They were positioned rando
mly here and there in vivid display of their final struggles with death. It was eeri
e; as if divine judgment had been passed on this place by a supreme being and jus
tice meted out mercilessly. The suffering in the grimacing faces strewn out all ov
er the ground must have been the worst possible; especially given the fact that no
thing in their world could’ve prepared them for such an unexpected onslaught. E
ven the plants glistened with a thin white coating on the tops of them that seeme
d to be eating right through. Thinner leaves, without a waxy coating, had been at
tacked right away, developing brown, yellow and purple spots on the surface. An
d some of the aspens were beginning to change color from gold-and-white to dee
p brown, becoming milky, foamy and sickly looking both on the leaves and bark.
The whole color scheme changed in a few short hours from natural green–vibran
t and alive–to pale, washed-out browns, reds and purples covered in a veil of acid
ic white.
“Look on the bright side...,” the delegate said, sensing his state of mind, “...
with all the public attention showered on this, our office may end up having to ba
ck off a bit.”
“Well, I’ll just hope for the best then,” was the disconsolate reply. “By the
way, who were they?”
“Who?”
“Our snipers. Did you find anyone out there?”
“Nothing. It was clean. They were mostly likely animal right activists or e
nvironmentalists. Highly proactive–and smart! They’ve been our biggest concer
n the entire time.”
“Proactive?” Falcon chuckled in confusion.
“Yeah, people who feel their sacred rights should never be violated althou
gh everyone else’s are open to question and opportunity,” the delegate relayed cy
nically.
“Doesn’t everyone kinda feel that way?”
“You said it–they feel it–don’t know it, though,” he answered with some ob
vious implication.
 “Huh?”
“Everyone’s selfish in their own way and feels it’s somehow justified.”
“So?”
“So—if everyone’s a hypocrite, nobody achieves their conclusions through
pure reasoning as they’d like to believe.”
“Sounds as if you’re justifying your own hypocrisy instead of making an ob
servation about others.”
“Maybe...or maybe it’s just an unavoidable fact in all of us, in our society or
nature, who knows?”
“You’ve a very cynical view of things.”
“Perhaps, but with good reason.”
“Reason?” Falcon giggled at this circuitous logic. Speaking of which, he wa
sn’t particularly interested in the man’s reasons for the way he thought, even tho
ugh he felt the question lurking in the background begging to be asked. He allow
ed it time to unwind and fall whatever it might in due course without further inq
uiry; fading into forgetfulness.
“What does being selfish have to do with being a hypocrite?” Falcon said d
ryly as though he’d been thinking about it awhile and none of it made sense to hi
m: “I don’t get it.”
“People are naturally selfish and do whatever they believe is right for the
mselves, generally for personal gain, even when it violates the rights of others wh
o they often believe stand in the way of their happiness. Everyone has a certain s
et of rules or guidelines; things that are acceptable for themselves or their partic
ular group without always granting the same to others.”
“You have an excellent point. I’ll grant you that,” Falcon assented, “Still, yo
u’ve got a very cynical view of human nature.” He looked away into the forest re
membering how it looked before (with a glorious stamp of colors), all changed no
w, and was sure there was something making the trees sag, only slightly at this po
int, but unmistakable; as strange tumors began popping out on the trees’ surface
s.
“Don’t you?” he asked pointedly.
Falcon shook his head in disbelief. “Jesus that stuff works fast. What the h
ell’s in it?”
The delegate spied him gazing at the odd shades the plants had taken up, t
he deformed trees, things he no longer bothered to notice.
“The powder? Can’t tell you...it’s a secret!” he murmured proudly.
It was strange, they were almost becoming chummy even though they wer
e mortal enemies by virtue of the situation; pitted against each other in a deadloc
ked struggle to succeed in making the other one fail. Perhaps the problem was st
rictly in the roles they played in the world that didn’t represent their true beliefs
at all, but merely forced them to act in conflicting ways. At least, Falcon thought i
t possible.
“What’s the big secret? It’s obviously just something to kill poor, innocent
creatures. What do I care, anyway? Who’m I gonna tell?” he remarked lazily. As t
hey rounded the last curve in the road the wooden exterior of the office suddenly
dropped into view. A single, undisturbed block of light shined through a small wi
ndow above the doorway, reflecting down on the austere little stoop and stretchi
ng out beyond the small steps. The caravan of hunters followed close behind Falc
on and the delegate in a long train of vehicles rising and falling on the hilly roads.
They had failed to locate Dr. Spenser after a thorough search of the area but also f
ound no body, meaning she was probably still alive.
“It’s strange...,” reflected Falcon, “...how she simply walked off and didn’t co
me back. No word, nothing.”
As they filed into the office they found Skaggs anxiously awaiting their ret
urn, tilting a quizzical gaze in the direction of the door as Falcon and the others tr
udged past the mat with their tanks and respirator masks seeking places to sit do
wn. Outside the color of night had deepened ever so slightly, penetrating the war
m glow of the office with a coldly protective sheathing.
“Jesus! And I thought I had problems with the bears and the men getting a
ttacked, now this—she wanders off!” The delegate complained; terribly concern
ed, but not about her safety; it was more his reputation as a man who gets things
done with no incidences he was worried about.
“Well, if she’s in any danger it won’t be from wild animals. You took care o
f that,” Falcon remarked cynically. With his back turned he shuffled into the stock
room to hang up his gear.
“Sit down,” Skaggs said amiably waving the delegate over to a chair. “Coffe
e?”
“You know even though this office is situated far from the spray we could s
till be affected if the wind shifts enough,” the delegate divulged accepting the cup
being offered him with a grateful nod.
“We all have to go sometime, might as well be for something you believe i
n.”
“Or don’t believe in,” the delegate said regarding him closely.
“Where’s Dr. Spenser?” said Skaggs.
“She wandered off and hasn’t come back. We were wondering if it wouldn’
t be a good idea to put together a search team and go looking for her.”
“Why don’t you have some of the hunters do it?”
“Well, now that you mention it we did,” the delegate considered rubbing hi
s flat chin, “Didn’t find anything. Though, it isn’t really their job.” He felt silly for s
aying it the moment it passed his lips.
“Not their job?” Falcon said, amazed, who’d returned from the back and ov
erheard what was said: “To find one of their own who’s lost in the field?”
“She has a radio, doesn’t she?”
“Radio, tracking device, everything the rest of us have,” the delegate respo
nded.
“Did you call and see if anyone responds?”
“We tried already.”
“Nothing?”
He shook his head gloomily.
“What about the GPS tracker?”
“Yeah, we followed it for awhile before losing the signal.”
“You mean it just shut off?” Skaggs said visibly distressed, “Then she’s pro
bably d—” he didn’t finish the thought, stopping short, his eyes unconsciously tra
iling down to his feet. He’d spoken without thinking. “Then we need to set up a s
earch party to find her right away. Time to bring in the dogs...”
“What’s Charlie’s number?” Falcon urged his partner; finding the phone an
d dialing the number after being handed a slip of scribbled paper. An hour later t
hey were hot on the trail of the missing Dr. searching for any clues to her mysteri
ous disappearance. Though where to begin was difficult to say (and could prove t
o be the biggest mystery of all); it would have to be the place where she was last s
een and work outward from there with a scent they hoped the dogs would be abl
e to pick up quickly. Until dawn the next day they mimicked the path of her footst
eps, after a fortuitous early discovery, with the eager hounds trailing the scent thr
ough one stream then another, picking it up on the other side, crossing another o
ne and picking it up again until it became lost in dense forest that blinded the ani
mals completely. They couldn’t see above the bushes for some fifteen minutes.
When they emerged the scent was gone.
Skaggs mused off-handedly: “Maybe she just got tired out of the whole thi
ng and went AWOL. You said so yourself...,” he was looking at Falcon now, “...she’d
grown disenchanted with the entire project and wanted out. Besides, look how cl
ose we are to the fence...” He pointed in the direction of the park boundary very n
ear the front entrance once they’d emerged from the trees. “Maybe she just walke
d through the front gate and left. She had clearance to go in and out as she please
d.”
It was highly possible; some footsteps they found on the other side of the
dense forest matched hers–the boot print was familiar–ending about a hundred y
ards from the entrance of the park, which meant she could’ve easily made the five
mile trek through rugged terrain and disappeared shortly thereafter. Perhaps, de
stroying or throwing away her radio and tracking device in the process. Of cours
e, it was all still just speculation and not worthy of much credit without somethin
g more to go on.
“She’s a traitor. I always knew she had it in her!” the delegate moaned bitt
erly. “Something was always wrong with her!”
“Maybe she had a sudden attack of conscience,” Falcon countered. “Have y
ou ever stopped to think about what it is you do?” he added pointedly–had, in fact,
been waiting for the opportunity for some time. “I’ve known hunters to kill great
and majestic creatures all their lives–some were proud and others suffered persis
tent feelings of guilt–but you, I would think, would feel the worst of all.”
“Huh? W–why would you say that?” the delegate stammered; stunned and
confused.
“While other people kill one, maybe two, animals for sport or food, you kill
everything, not for game or feast, but coldly calculated mass murder.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” the delegate groaned bitterly, “What I do is meanin
gful work. I’m merely trying to save the world from a group of vicious and dange
rous creatures and that’s noble!” Finishing this inflammatory statement in a flurr
y of spit and feisty nasal sounds. “Don’t think I don’t know what these creatures
are capable of! They killed someone very close to me several years ago–an innoc
ent!–working by himself on an early project. When we found him late in the after
noon his hands and feet had been chewed off, his nose was broken, and his eyes
were hanging loose from their sockets.”
“Everyone seems to have a similar tragic story when it comes to these crea
tures, and although I’m not discounting your loss, have you ever stopped to think
about it from the their perspective?”
“Whose side are you on?”
“None in particular—the side of truth, I guess.”
“You sound as if you support these awful beasts?”
“First of all they’re only “beasts” because we are. Force is almost always a
nd inevitably met with a similar level of force even in nature. It’s the way life prot
ects itself.”
“Wonderful theory. Bravo! The only reason you’ve got so much sympathy
for them is because you’ve never known any of their victims personally.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that they’re protecting themselves and their
survival in the same way that you’ve been doing in your own misguided fashion.
Dr. Intinman also informed you that it’s possible for both species to survive side-
by-side as long as we’re able to control ourselves. In the end, it’s really up to us.”
“We haven’t given them any reason to attack us, so who’s right?” he ventur
ed; responding to his own question: “We are, of course!” He said it as if the propo
sition itself was absurd. “These stupid animals can’t compete with us–the greates
t creature of all!”
Falcon chuckled in disbelief, “You’ve already been outsmarted! Don’t you
get it? Not a single bear’s been killed yet. There’s no way you can honestly claim
victory over them.”
“But, but...that doesn’t matter!” he struggled, “One time doesn’t make a diff
erence...I suppose you’re enjoying this?”
“No! I don’t enjoy seeing a forest destroyed, or it’s creatures murdered so
pointlessly, especially when there were no bears in the park and you knew it! All
you did was destroy a place that was once peaceful and beautiful. Now, it’s a disa
ster and you want to expand it. Makes me wonder about something...”
“Oh, and what’s that?” the delegate spat out observing him closely with th
e corners of his mouth lifted in scornful sarcasm.
“I’m wondering if you’re simply lacking a conscience or have just managed
to keep it in check all your life?” Falcon tapped his foot noisily awaiting an answer
“Mr. Falcon, let’s not talk like children. Neither of us are that!” And in dem
onstration of the fact he brushed several fingers through the sparse locks on his h
ead.
“You’re right, we’re not, and we should know better than to try to save the
world with ridiculous theories about species superiority and Social Darwinism.
Things you know are false!”
For the better part of an hour they argued the respective merits of the cas
e: who possessed the greater sensibility of life, understanding of human nature a
nd affinity for civilization. In the end solving nothing; and neither was persuaded
to move a single inch from their entrenched positions. Meanwhile, they’d given u
p on the possibility of Matte Spenser’s return; who’d now made her absence felt a
s a persistent and inescapable reality. A looming figure that continued to darken
the mood of the participants in attendance of the long drawn out disaster-in-proc
ess, late in the evening; holding a sharp-edged question mark over everything tha
t followed, and influencing the somberness of future discussions. Having a desert
er in the ranks of an already beleaguered program was a bad sign the hunters bel
ieved; especially given the fact that one of the key members had disappeared–pre
sumably due to loss of faith in the project and its leadership.
“I can’t believe she would do such a thing!” the delegate burst out every so
often, violating the thoughtful silence and flogging her memory with every uttera
nce.
“Who?” Skaggs said sitting across from him; disconcerted and alarmed.
“Dr. Spenser! She’s got a lot of nerve abandoning a project right in the mid
dle. The thought of it!” His voice sounded not so much angry as whiny and worn.
 “What can anyone do? She made a decision: she’d had enough.”
“But she has duties and responsibilities to this agency and that’s what mat
ters most....” the delegate hailed righteously.
“We don’t know for sure that she’s walked out yet, we’re assuming; maybe
she was injured or kidnaped by one of the opposition groups and that’s why we l
ost radio contact.”
“Do you think we should file a missing persons report?” the delegate grop
ed, looking confused.
“No, not yet. She may still turn up and with the evidence we can provide s
o far, along with the time of her disappearance, the police will probably assume s
he left on her own.”
“She did leave on her own. I’m sure of it!” Groaned the delegate, bitterly.
“We still have to wait twenty-four to forty-eight hours to see if anything tu
rns up before filing a report. There’s no evidence a crime’s been committed yet.”
The following afternoon the fences along a northern section of the park w
ere torn down by nearly a hundred protesters that ran into the park, throwing sti
cks, stones and other homemade missiles and catching the unsuspecting soldiers
off guard. Less than half an hour later a group of hurled, improvised explosives c
areened over the fences at the positions guarding the eastern boundary, sending t
wo soldiers to the hospital and one to the morgue. It was looking like a coordinat
ed attack. Shots were also fired at the soldiers on three separate occasions from
some undetermined location in the hills above. Snipers! Ultimately, additional n
ational guard troops had to be brought in to handle the sudden outbreaks of viole
nce; to walk the fences along the outer perimeter and prevent further guerilla att
acks (creating a off-limits zone for some fifty yards all around) that managed to c
urb the attacks with a clear and menacing presence. Troops were also sent to pat
rol the hills above and prevent sniping. Still, the opposition groups were getting
bolder and cleverer; forcing the soldiers to sweat it out as they feared another su
rprise attack at any moment from any direction; their tormentors driven by the d
esire to take drastic measures or risk losing another species to human indifferenc
e.
The nearly a hundred protesters that broke through the fence that afterno
on touted everything from metal bars, to baseball bats to anything else at-hand th
at could be used close range against the soldiers. Some were eventually shot but
most made it through to where the stunned men were and taunted them with nu
merous threats and insults just prior to the attack; the protestors facing a force of
only ten men at the spot where the gate was breached. They toppled the chain lin
k barrier with fence-cutters, sledgehammers and sheer brute force; running after
the soldiers like wild-eyed savages on the warpath: fearless, bloodthirsty and uns
toppable. They tossed a variety of objects as they ran, apparently unconcerned w
ith the danger of being shot by the heavily armed men. At one point, a few of the
lesser experienced soldiers opened fire out of pure terror alone, without calling f
or help, causing all hell to break loose and the protesters to begin a full-speed cha
se through the forest to rip them to shreds; while the soldiers beat a hasty retreat
into the hills. Seventeen of the protesters were injured in the clash, along with fiv
e soldiers, in the hail of gunfire that followed. The crazed mob was eventually tur
ned back after the soldiers assembled their ranks (they had a quick moment to ca
ll for backup) and dispersed the unwelcome intruders quickly into the surroundi
ng area when thirty or more men showed up, pushing them back across the line.
 Another incident that occurred was a modified and barricaded four-wheel
drive crashing through the fences along the western edge of the park, an area tha
t, miraculously, lay undefended at the time. The soldiers were changing shifts an
d the relief was still a good half mile from the remote outpost that up to that poin
t hadn’t seen, or expected, any activity. When they finally did spot the truck comi
ng straight at them, they began firing desperately in the hope of taking out the tir
es but managed only to hit the grill on the blazing behemoth; ricocheting out in al
l directions. The renegade machine did cross a good portion of the park before di
sappearing outside–partially obscuring itself in smoke bombs delivered from the
cab that spread out hundreds of feet in all directions making it nearly impossible
to see where it headed or where it went.
Still, with the considerable ruckus created by the unruly guest it caused no
other damage than to destroy a section of fence along the western and southern
boundaries and leave behind a distinct calling card: blood-stained tire tracks spa
nning for miles where it ran over countless dead carcasses and one of the soldier’
s rifles along the away. In addition, the drivers dropped loads of mantraps, which
were essentially bear traps designed for people, that didn’t do any harm whatsoe
ver. They were simply collected along the path of the truck in the investigation th
at followed.
“This project is doomed...,” the delegate wailed remorsefully after hearing
the ever-mounting bad news, “...my men have been attacked, we find the park em
pty, then she disappears and now these goddamned crazy protesters are bombin
g us, laying traps and everything else...what’s next?”
“Seems the project has touched a nerve,” Falcon replied coldly.
“—Or the protesters have found out about our plans to expand into the su
rrounding areas. That’s what likely touched a nerve,” the delegate accused; keepi
ng a sharp eye on his reaction.
“How do you know?”
“The commander of the national guard stationed outside the park enlighte
ned me–that’s how. He said one of the speechmakers yesterday afternoon was ge
tting the crowd whipped up with tales of how the project plans to wipe out every
last bear in the Colorado.”
“Don’t you?”
“Huh? What did you say?” snapped the delegate, pugnaciously.
“You would like to kill every last bear in the state, maybe on earth...I would
bet.”
“How could you possibly know anything that about me or what I want...an
d what the hell does that have to do with the situation, anyway?” he spouted in an
ger.
“Everything.”
“So you did tell someone? Godammit, I knew it! No one else was aware of
our plans to expand the project outside the park...” The delegate’s face turned dar
k and deadly; worse than usual.
“No, sorry, I didn’t.”
“I don’t believe you,” the delegate leveled against him; keeping his gaze fix
ed on the enemy, “I’m gonna have to arrest you for revealing classified secrets con
veyed in confidence with the understanding that they weren’t to go any further.”
He probed for any indications of a cowering fear in his opponent but from past ex
perience should’ve known better. Falcon was serene.
 “I didn’t tell—what good would it do? You’re gonna do whatever you want
in spite of me, maybe contaminate the whole goddamned state!”
The delegate was still eyeballing him closely, unflinching, analyzing every
word out of his mouth and wondering whether he was bluffing, though the expla
nation sounded sincere.
“You’re right,” he gloated triumphantly, “No one can stop me!”
And with that level of reassurance the delegate drew eminent relief and sa
tisfaction. An appeal had been made to his personal vanity (a definite weak spot
where he was concerned) and a large share of his personality, too. From that vita
l wellspring nothing was impossible (even qualities he didn’t or couldn’t possess).
What could a bunch of foolish speechmakers do to him anyway?
“So, you gonna arrest me?” Falcon tested him; adopting the offensive as sh
rewd means of defense.
“Watch your step or I will...,” the pucker-faced man warned a little less stri
ngently, “...and don’t think ‘cause we’re talking all friendly now it gives you any re
ason to take advantage of me.”
“Trust me, I’m under no such illusions,” was the frank reply. “But if the pro
ject’s going south so quickly why don’t you just accept defeat and move on?”
“No!–but you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“If the protesters are bad now when we’re in a sealed off area, imagine wh
at it’s going to be like when we’re out in the open, searching over a wide area–exp
osed!”
“I had given that some thought and it’s a risk I’m willing to take,” the deleg
ate answered bravely.
“What about your men? They’re the most vulnerable.”
“What about them? They’re assigned to do a job and it happens to be a da
ngerous one.”
Falcon walked over and picked up the coffee pot, listening only half-hearte
dly with his back turned; disgusted. His look grew gradually more intense as he li
stened to the endless stream of excuses being played out especially for him. He of
fered the delegate a cup of coffee, taking in the pitiful figure of him at the same ti
me. What a worm!
“You’re talking like a fool. Too many men have already been lost to a proje
ct that hasn’t produced any results. What are you gonna do if more men are kille
d due to this hare-brained scheme of yours? You know, there comes a time when
everyone has to admit defeat...when it doesn’t make sense to do anything else.”
“Never!” the delegate shrieked. “What’s it to you, anyhow?”
Skaggs opened the door, came into the room, took off his jacket and poure
d himself a cup of coffee. He grabbed a seat on the long wooden bench near the fr
ont window, listening with casual curiosity to the ongoing conversation. Falcon n
odded once to acknowledge his presence then turned his attention back to the de
legate.
“Me—nothing. You just seem obsessed with killing a group of creatures yo
u know nothing about–aren’t really for or against in any major way–and don’t hav
e any strong beliefs about at all; or anything else for that matter...”
“Don’t insult me–of course I have beliefs! I just don’t bring them to my wo
rk. I’m a professional!”
“Why the hell not? Don’t you reckon the extermination of an entire specie
s is more important than any claim a job or social institution might have on your l
oyalty?”
“I’m not sure I understand.” He muttered frightenedly.
“The issue is much larger than you or I, it’s at the level of moral precedent
—survival for that matter—a thing that supercedes economic responsibility, nati
onal laws, and all manner of social invention. Can’t you imagine anything that exi
sts above it all: an essential connection among all beings?”
“I’m still not sure I get it.” He appeared evasive and desperate to change th
e subject.
“There’s something mysterious about our existence you ought to realize: a
certain compulsion that drives us to do what’s right, what makes the most sense,
and what’s best for all parties concerned. It’s beyond mere external forms, rules
or behaviors that we, unfortunately, have to follow in the world. The repressive r
oles that, due to their very nature, often exist in sharp contrast to how we feel or
the overall good of things in general.”
“I am doing what’s right,” he declared with a fierce pride.
“No...you are doing what your superiors have told you to do, what everyon
e else does habitually and they in turn also busy themselves carrying out orders f
rom their superiors, without question and without thinking. No one ever stops t
o look at whether the social organization, the underlying idea, is flawed in the firs
t place, and whether it, consequently, is worth carrying out on merit alone. Some
one above you has told you to do something that is incumbent on the entire pyra
mid-shaped structure below, the “collective will” so to speak, that underlies it, an
d nobody has the authority or the nerve to say openly that sometimes–very often
in fact–the entire edifice, the premise itself is wrong; yet we are so bent on keepi
ng the status quo intact; ever afraid of altering it’s fundamental course for fear th
at everything around us will fall apart. We’re left obeying orders mindlessly and
becoming absorbed in the cannibalistic monstrosity of our society instead of mak
ing rational, independent decisions. Even in democracies, even in this day and ag
e, people are not free to think for ourselves, and especially not to act on what the
y believe if it runs opposite to the prevailing principle; societies that for the most
part still think in terms of slaves and masters; autocrats and mindless followers o
f an unchallenged design that can always be traced back to the decisions of some
authority above them.”
The delegate was dumbfounded. He stared with dry lips and a troubled ex
pression, jaw loosely slung, landing somewhere between confusion, anger and sa
dness–not a definite emotion by any stretch. It was distressingly complex for him
struggling to cope with the disastrous situation, the new and troubling informati
on now being told him, and his commitment stay the course; all clashing inside hi
s mind.
“There are times when life demands action outside the common mold and
usual way of thinking and I’m suggesting this may be one of those times. Applyin
g crude generalizations from the enclosed recesses of the mind glibly to every fac
t and feature of our existence without understanding any of it seems absurd and
meaningless in this regard. But that’s what’s usually done. If we want to demons
trate our humanity and intelligence we need to come up with something original
every now and then that asserts basic truths–expressing what we are, essentially,
as living beings committed to actions that fly in the face of every social institution
and convention that makes enemies of life and other creatures, and fails to manif
est the individual will and conscience we claim to hold dear. This is especially tru
e when such glaring incompetence, impropriety and downright evil are all aroun
d us in the ways and means that inform our existence. The day of the Superspeci
es has come and may actually turn out to be the crucial moment in our lives when
everything we’ve learned about ourselves and how to exist proves unsuitable, ins
upportable and irrelevant, leaving the old designs in the dust, unable to offer a so
lution.”
“You talk like a religious convert,” the delegate kidded him.
“The situation has forced me to think that way. The endless string of quest
ions posed by the Superspecies open up such vast possibilities for the future—un
imaginable, eternal ones—like nothing I’ve ever seen.”
“He is a convert,” Skaggs declared ironically, “A total one.” Grinning half-wit
tedly.
The delegate giggled, “Oh, I see.”
“But—do you? I wonder...”
“I doesn’t matter,” said the delegate.
“What?”
“Forget trying to convince me of anything...I know my job.”
“He has no space in his mind for theoretical nonsense,” Skaggs said to Falc
on; heckling the delegate. “You’ll have a tough time convincing him.”
“He’s a hard case, alright.”
“Hey, lay off, you guys! What are you trying to pull?” the delegate squawke
d; flustered.
“He doesn’t know what he’s doing, it’s not his job to question,” Skaggs cont
inued undaunted.
The delegate glared at him: “I warn you. You won’t get the better of me!”
“He’s not gonna allow that to happen,” Skaggs reiterated, amusingly.
“Too bad; and here I thought the man had potential!”
“Shows what you get from thinking other people care about thinking!”
“It does. It certainly does,” Falcon grinned, mischievously.
Meanwhile the delegate began looking around for any means of escape out
of the situation. Even the window began to take on a peculiar curiosity for him th
ough he’d never seriously attempt it in reality. None of the hunters were nearby t
o magnify his strength (they’d all gone to bed) leaving him vulnerable to being ga
nged up on. When his gaze did fall on the others, snickering on the sly, he looked
hurt and defenseless.
Suddenly the door opened up and Laura walked in. She released the knob
slowly behind her, observing the faces meeting her gaze and wondering what the
topic of discussion must have been to cause such animate expressions on their fa
ces. She glided over to Falcon and kissed him on the cheek.
“Hi hon’,” she greeted warmly, “How’s it going?”
“Sit down,” he motioned her over next to him; his expression softening the
moment she entered; studying her face to better ally himself with her mood.
“Thought I would come down and see how things were getting along.”
“Fine! We were just having a pleasant little discussion about the value of t
hinking for yourself versus blindly taking orders. Our guest here firmly believes i
n the sanctity of doing his job over worrying about the wider meaning of his actio
ns.”
“That wasn’t what we were talking about!” the delegate fumed; getting up
in a huff and, without a word, going to the door and out to his trailer, slamming it
behind him.
“Boy, what’s wrong with him?” Laura raised her eyes in amused curiosity.
“Just a classic case of “conformity-itis”. I was giving him a hard time about
the utter stupidity of his job.”
“He’s an awfully uptight man,” Laura observed; peering at Falcon for accor
d.
Skaggs said confidentially to Falcon: “I relayed the information to Milton P
raetor about the government’s intentions to expand the project, saw him at yeste
rday’s rally and gave him everything you asked me to. He had something for us to
o: seems the opposition is spreading new and shocking rumors against Superspe
cies supporters–trying to alarm the public into reacting against us. They’re sayin
g there’s a conspiracy by radical animal right groups to capture and breed the bea
rs in captivity in order to study their potential as an instrument for terrorizing m
ankind.”
“Hmmm, interesting,” Falcon considered, genuinely impressed. “What a cr
eative peace of disinformation to stir up the waters and confuse the public a bit.”
“Don’t you mean “muddy the waters”?” Laura broke in.
“That too.”
“Well, look, it’s nothing that comes as any great surprise.”
“No. What did Praetor say about their plans to expand the project?” Falco
n asked curiously.
“Said it’s nothing he hadn’t expected. He was clearly upset, though.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet.”
“Who’s Milton Praetor?” Laura asked.
“Just a guy we’ve been funneling information to on the outside, a confidant
of Intinman’s, he’s gonna help us undermine these bastards.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?” she said regarding him under close scrutiny–slowly
“Couldn’t you get in trouble?”
They said nothing. They had thought of it of course, at the outset, but the
possibility of doing something to sabotage the project was more enticing than an
ything else–and much too irresistible to pass up no matter what the cost. It repla
ced their feelings of helplessness with positive action, and that’s what mattered
most. Falcon glanced at Laura with a painful sense of guilt in his eyes, taking in h
er pleading expression that revealed an infinite sadness. Skaggs also looked emb
arrassed for forgetting not to say anything.
“Truthfully?” Falcon said in hesitation, “Yes.”
Hurt and anger bloomed in every direction across her face as if poised to b
urst to pieces on her lap; he witnessed the disturbing transformation with consid
erable alarm. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she said, “Don’t I have a right to know wh
en you’re putting yourself in danger?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, “It was something I had to do and I was afraid you wou
ldn’t understand.”
“You care more about the animals than you do about yourself, don’t you?”
Sounding more surprised than anything else; with a detectable hint of pride in he
r voice.
“The issue is bigger than you or me or anything else...I honestly feel that w
ay about this...” His hand swept over his head in a clockwise direction as if someh
ow to emphasize this claim and distract her unnerving stare away. “I don’t want t
o sacrifice myself, it’s not that, I have no interest in becoming a martyr, but if I do
n’t, who will?”
“But why you?” she pleaded.
“Because I’m a position to do something.”
She was crestfallen. She sensed he wasn’t wrong in what he was saying ev
en though she felt otherwise and was in no hurry to admit it.
“He almost found out today,” looking at Skaggs.
“Who?”
“The delegate—he grilled me today on this very issue. He knows the com
manding officer of the national guard outside who heard the public address abou
t the intended expansion.”
“So? he has people, too. We knew that was possible.”
Laura’s face turned tragic. She wasn’t enjoying the interesting points of th
e discussion as much as they were.
“You have to be careful,” she said in an agitated voice, “If you’re put in jail,
what’ll happen to you? Your future? I couldn’t get along without you,” she cried o
ut in helpless confusion.
“You’ve been through a lot. I’m sorry,” he said pulling her close. “The situa
tion’s terribly stressful for all of us, but soon it’ll all be over,” he finished hopefully.
And looking out the front window he could see the outline of one of the barracks
trailers: in one of the farther ones, in the hand of a shadowy figure, he caught the
faint glow of a cigarette and a long trail of smoke. He glanced at the clock: 11:47.
Late.
“There has been another little incident...” Skaggs brought up, clearing his t
hroat for the resultant emphasis in change of subject, “...there’ve been some hostil
e groups showing up lately and rousting the protesters, attacking them, heckling t
hem, pushing them around and shoving them. This salty group of late arrivals ma
y have come around just to promote violence at the demonstrations, perhaps tryi
ng to discredit them by the nature of the episodes.”
“What do you make of it?”
‘The attacks were aimed almost exclusively at pro-Superspecies supporter
s and according to my personal source on the outside—not Praetor this time—th
e cameras were rolling during each outbreak!”
“What does that suggest? The government’s guilty of sending professional
thugs to disrupt the protest?”
“Thugs, instigators, agent provocateurs—who knows?” Skaggs said dully.
“There appears to be some method to it, whatever it is. It’s highly suspicious, tho
ugh, the fact that there were reporters conveniently in the right place at the right
time for every outbreak—or so it seemed to my source.”
“He also said the reporters that captured the exclusives each time didn’t a
ppear to belong to any particular news outfit, according the credentials they displ
ayed and the unmarked vehicles they rode in on. Riding in unpainted vans and tr
ucks with official-looking seals, they became a unit unto themselves among the re
porters–never mingling with the others–with a sixth sense about where the next
disruption would occur. My source believes they might’ve been working for the g
overnment under the guise of the Associated Press.”
“Associated Press? The worldwide news agency?”
“Yeah, he got a look at their credentials being flashed to a national guards
men as they were gaining access to the press area; didn’t look like anyone else’s h
e’d ever seen. Afterwards, they were never questioned or harassed again; nor for
ced to keep away from any of the restricted areas like the others.”
“Well, we certainly don’t have enough problems already!” Falcon laughed s
ickly.
“There’s always something...”
“Yeah—only I never realized how sleazy the government’s tactics were unt
il this whole Superspecies thing broke out!”
“Hold on! We aren’t sure the government’s involved yet,” Skaggs reminded
them in a cautionary tone as if heading off any possible paranoia.
“No, but something’s going on, the style of violence is new; methodical. It
has to be some sort of agitation, either political or strategic, by the look of things:
the government or opposition.”
“Alright, I’ll grant you that,” Skaggs assented, reluctantly. His glance drifte
d around the room toward the front window pane where slivers of orange light p
assed through the frosty glass, bending it down toward the floor. Outside the lon
esome howl of a pack of wolves filled the chilly air with an eerie, haunting sense,
completing the somber mood.
“What’s wrong with the world? With people?” Skaggs said shaking his hea
d violently.
“Something like this always shakes people up for sure. The old ways of loo
king at the world no longer apply and people sometimes overreact...”
“Are you talking strictly about the Superspecies now?”
“No–anything that changes or threatens the human condition!”
“What?”
“The way people view themselves and the world. One of the greatest hum
an fears is of the unknown–we’re ever watchful and distrustful of anything that c
ould profoundly affect our lives.”
“–Or how difficult it might be to adjust to change, especially major change!
We take such pride in our ability to adapt to new things, celebrated so often in sci
ence and literature as part of our nature, that it’s shocking how frequently we op
pose it. History is filled with countless examples of how our society resists those
kinds of difficult choices.
“So, maybe in practice human beings are really just creatures of habit and
hypocrites after all? ...And maybe, just maybe, a good share of our intelligence is u
sed for nothing but subversion of it–for deception and delusion?”
“It’s much more than that. Human beings puff themselves up on high ideal
s they don’t even attempt to follow or believe, in art, verse and song, preaching p
ublicly and lying to themselves; then acting as though these “minor” transgressio
ns are unimportant as long as no one acknowledges the fact.”
“Sounds like a kind of disease the way you put it.”
“Not far from...”
They examined each other closely for a moment without blinking, wonderi
ng if they themselves might be so composed.
“May be why Matte Spenser abandoned the project the way she did.” Skagg
s observed breaking the silence.
“That would be my gut feeling...,” was the sighing reply, adding, “...I can’t sa
y for sure but this situation is far more than a minor transgression.”
Skaggs laughed: “Still, you know how dissatisfied she was with the entire project.
You do have an idea.”
“I’ve got an opinion. That’s all. She might be dead.”
“Let’s hope not. No blood or body was ever found.”
“No.”