MISSION: MONSTERS: THE INHUMAN ZOO
Written by Lee Fanning
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In an alternate post-World War II Washington D.C. where humans now live with a community of human-like animal hybrid creatures called "Others"-- the result of mad science experiments discovered on an island during the war-- missionary Mason and private detective Valerie Sodecko are tasked with investigating a "zoo" that showcases Others after concerns that one of its "exhibits" is not there voluntarily.
HOW THIS ADVENTURE MAKES YOU SMARTERSCIENCE
HISTORY
LANGUAGE ARTS
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It’s 1947. The Second World War is over, and the world has changed.
Three years ago American soldiers in the Pacific Ocean stumbled onto an island full of impossible things-- creatures that were once animals-- who now walk, speak and think like men-- created by mad science fifty years before.
The world debated what to do with these “Others”-- leave them on the island, to live like abominations?-- or bring them home? To live with us?
Those who would come were brought to Washington, D.C.-- to the neighborhood of Benning-- where these “Benning Beasts” could be integrated into human society. But they are largely left alone to live amongst themselves.
My mission, through my faith, is to help them, and to help the world understand them. And sometimes, with the help of a private detective named Valerie Sodecko, helping both, means protecting them from each other.
Mason Limbrick
Benning Mission, 1947
Three years ago American soldiers in the Pacific Ocean stumbled onto an island full of impossible things-- creatures that were once animals-- who now walk, speak and think like men-- created by mad science fifty years before.
The world debated what to do with these “Others”-- leave them on the island, to live like abominations?-- or bring them home? To live with us?
Those who would come were brought to Washington, D.C.-- to the neighborhood of Benning-- where these “Benning Beasts” could be integrated into human society. But they are largely left alone to live amongst themselves.
My mission, through my faith, is to help them, and to help the world understand them. And sometimes, with the help of a private detective named Valerie Sodecko, helping both, means protecting them from each other.
Mason Limbrick
Benning Mission, 1947
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“It’s not her fault-- she can’t defend herself!”
Private Eye Valerie Sodecko-- high cheek bones, hard jaw and tense eyes-- and Mason-- softer, rounder features with a disconcerting stare-- study Philo as he speaks. He’s an “Other”-- what one might describe as a donkey man. Valerie’s seen plenty like him, but his unnatural features still give her chills. Long, horse-like face, gray fur, and bold, stark black eyebrows. His long drooping ears are decorated with beads and colorful stones hanging from strands of twisted fur. His eyes, however, are strikingly human-- concerned, vulnerable, angry. His pause fills the room. He looks away, mad clenched fists on the desk. Val and Mason share a look. “Why do you say that?” asks Mason, finally. “She’s a mute,” Philo confesses. “And I would wager,” continues Mason, “she’s never been taught sign language?” Philo shakes his head. “Those kinds of things were forbidden, on the Island. Some superstitions remain.” |
Philo stands abruptly. He paces softly over the aged wooden floor, darts his eyes about the sparse and poor decorations of the mission’s ragged office, before turning to a broken window on the far side of the room, looking out to the quiet urban street below.
“Then she can’t communicate at all?” Valerie calls after him.
“She can communicate with me,” says Philo, turning sharply. “I understand her. I know what she wants. And she doesn’t want to be there.”
Valerie thumbs a ragged, pulpy advertisement for the “Chimera Carnival”, an attraction of sorts-- a zoo, really-- but not a zoo of animals. It’s a zoo of Others. Advertised in a crude, poorly rendered black and white are photos and sketches of jackal-women, cat-men, and others of indistinguishable origin.
Everything about the poster gives her the creeps.
“The Griffin exploits them like freaks,” says Philo. “It’s disgusting.”
“But these Others are all there willingly, correct?” asks Val. “They’re all being paid?”
“They’re embarrassments,” says Philo harshly.
“Is she right, Philo?” asks Mason. “Is Alexandria being paid?”
Philo shrugs. “She has no use for money. She only needs a home.”
“Which is where?” asks Val.
“I’m her brother,” says Philo defiantly. “I’m her home.”
Valerie spots Alexandria’s photograph on the poster. Long, slender limbs, scales covering her body-- a lizard-like woman-- with, for an Other, an attractive touch of human-like facial features-- thin lips, nice symmetry and easy eyes.
“We can’t just go and take her away from there, Philo-- you understand that?” asks Mason. “The carnival is a legal operation, and The Griffin is within her rights to enforce any contracts she might have with your, uh, sister.”
“There is no contract,” bites Philo. “It’s manipulation! It’s slavery! She’s paraded as a freak because she can’t defend herself!”
“Philo, calm down,” warns Val, “we can talk to The Griffin. If there’s anything illegal happening we can get the police involved--”
“NO!” interjects Philo. “NO cops! The Griffin can buy and sell them--!”
“All right, all right,” calms Mason with a lowering hand, “no police. We’ll talk to her. We’ll see what we can figure out. We’ll do what we can for your sister.”
“Save her, missionary,” Philo warns, “or I don’t care about the consequences-- I will.”
Mason and Val share an uncertain look. Val glances back to the poster, her gaze fixing on the carnival’s matriarch. Bird-like beak, sharp feathers, passion-less face, wing-like arms crossed, a quiet stare to the camera: The Griffin.
In person, her presence is even more impressive. She carries herself with a regal authority-- a calm, confident strength. She’s older, for an Other-- one of the mad Doctor Thoreau’s earliest successes. Despite her odd, animal-infused appearance, she moves much like a human, even in subtle ways, which aren’t lost on Mason, notepad in hand, listening to her side of the story. He notes a dainty Victorian quality to the decor, perhaps a key to who The Griffin really wants to be-- old knick-knacks, antiques, crowded furniture and tea cups on lace doilies fill the space. It feels like his grandmother’s house.
“They are not of genetic kin. According to your laws, he has no agency over her.” Her words are slow, thoughtfully crafted, like a witness on trial.
“We understand there’s no legal grounds for Philo’s guardianship,” Mason concedes, “but, I don’t have to tell you, of the custom of Others, while on the Island, to form surrogate families. Unofficially, we still try to respect those.”
“Of course, you don’t have to tell me,” says The Griffin with a slight scoff, “what do you think this is? This carnival is our family.”
Valerie, who leaves the note taking to Mason, considers before she speaks.
“Is there documentation, Madam Griffin, of your arrangement with your employees-- or, rather, members of your family?” She wrenches a sarcastic smile.
The Griffin ignores it with a placating blink. “Detective Sodecko, is this official police business?”
“As I said before, ma’am, I’m not with the police.”
“That’s what I thought. I’m under no obligation to you. Unless you have a warrant.”
Ever the peacekeeper, Mason intercedes. “No one wants that, Madam Griffin. We’re simply here to pacify Philo. If we didn’t look into this, we’re afraid he might do something… troubling, for everyone involved.”
The Griffin scoffs coyly again. “Philo is a coward. He’ll be no trouble.” She petitely raises a cup of tea to her beak. “I can assure you everything is perfectly legal and documented at my carnival. I see to her needs, she wants for nothing, and I take that responsibility seriously. She’s happy here.”
Mason and Val share an unconvinced look.
“And if you follow the legal procedures that protect my rights, I’ll be more than happy to speak with you again in greater detail.”
Valerie and Mason aren’t satisfied, but they aren’t getting anything else. They stand to leave. As Val starts for the door, Mason stops and turns back to The Griffin. This stops Val, who looks at him curiously.
“Something on your mind, Mr. Mason?” asks The Griffin.
“May I speak to her?”
The Griffin, unflinching, takes another sip of tea. “She can’t speak back,” she says coldly.
“I’d just really like to meet her,” says Mason with a calming smile.
The Griffin points to a rudimentary hand-painted post above the door, an early draft of the carnival’s signage: ADMISSION 50 CENTS
“Paying customers are always welcome to meet my family.”
Val and Mason wander the corridors of the carnival uneasily. The warehouse-- a munitions plant decommissioned after the war-- had been converted into a large hall of wire cages. The enclosures each hold a voluntary captive, all Others, and all almost naked, stalking about as if more animal than man, climbing trees and hunting imaginary prey; pouncing as if to frighten guests with excited thrills; licking their fur and eating from bowls cemented into the ground.
Though not overcrowded, the carnival is well populated with curious human sightseers: a mix of families, business men, street children-- Mason notes their chuckles and gasps and excited, nervous chatter. It seems less a zoo and more a sideshow.
Mason and Valerie quickly skirt through the crowds and past the enclosures of the jackal-woman, the cat-man, the bat-like creature and the tall thing that’s a mix of amphibian and mammal-- until finding themselves at an isolated enclosure at the rear of the facility. Tucked in a corner, almost hidden. There, Valerie sees Alexandria for the first time in person-- as tall, sleek and dignified as she appeared on the crude poster. She rests on a large log stretched between two wooden posts near the top of the enclosure. She seems to sleep.
For a moment, Valerie and Mason just watch, preferring not to disturb her. She finally notices them-- but believing them simply spectators, turns away from them to face the wall.
“Alexandria?” asks Mason.
After a moment, the Other turns back to face them, her eyes both curious and concerned.
“My name’s Mason,” he says, “and this is detective Valerie Sodecko. I run a mission in Benning, for, Others--”
Suddenly, excitedly, Alexandria drops from the tree, some nine feet to the floor of the enclosure, landing with a dancer’s grace. She rushes to the cage fence, motioning with her hand for Mason and Valerie to come closer. After another shared, unnerved look, the pair approach.
Alexandria dashes away, digging into the rear corner of the green painted hay lining the bottom of her cage. She returns, almost giggling, with a sheet of ripped paper in hand. She unfolds it, shows it to Mason and points.
It’s a newspaper article-- a picture of him, about his mission.
“You’ve heard of me?” asks Mason.
She doesn’t nod, but her eyes seem to say yes.
“I’m glad to know that.”
She stares excitedly back at Mason.
“Can we ask you something, Alexandria?” Valerie cuts in. Alexandria watches as Val steps slightly closer.
“I know you don’t speak,” Valerie continues, “but maybe you can nod, yes or no?”
Alexandria nods yes.
“We’ve talked to Philo,” says Valerie. The smile melts from Alexandria’s face, and she looks away.
“We don’t mean to scare you,” says Mason. “He’s just concerned. He is your brother, right? At least according to Island law?”
Alexandria looks up. She nods yes, sheepishly.
“He’s concerned,” begins Mason, “that you’re not here because you want to be. That you’ve been-- coerced into this. Is that true?”
She doesn’t respond.
“We want to help you, if you need help,” says Val, “but we need to know if Philo has a right to be concerned.”
“You understand what we’re asking?” intercuts Mason. “If The Griffin has you here, without you wanting to be here…”
Again, she just stares at Mason, no response. Valerie and Mason share a look.
“We’re sorry to have bothered you,” says Mason. He starts to walk away-- Val follows, with a nod to Alexandria, who contemplates with a turn.
This time, it’s Valerie who stops short. Mason pulls up, looks at her. She turns around to Alexandria.
“Should we be worried about Philo? Are you trying to get away from him?”
Alexandria looks up yet again, and just looks away-- again seemingly no response. But Valerie thinks she sees one. She shares another one of their looks with Mason, and then nods to the Other.
“Thank you for your time.”
Alexandria watches the pair leave, her eyes drifting back to the newspaper article. She touches the photograph of the mission, a telling gaze-- before, suddenly sensing a presence, she turns towards the dark hallway.
The Griffin stalks by and glares at Alexandria for a small moment-- then continues down the hall.
Neither Mason nor Valerie expected the conversation to go well, but Philo was especially outraged after they described their encounter with Alexandria. He became inconsolable when they tried to convince him to leave the situation alone. He’s angry-- and dangerous-- and Valerie and Mason decided their job in all of this wasn’t quite done yet.
It’s the third day of the stakeout when it seems like maybe Philo is more bark than bite after all-- maybe The Griffin was right.
The broken parking lot outside the carnival is mostly empty this time of night. While most of the employees-- or members of the “family”-- live in a barrack unit retrofitted from another building on the campus, none aside perhaps from The Griffin have automobiles.
Aside from the cheap banners The Griffin uses to attract ogling customers, the entire campus seems dead and deserted, just another urban post-war eyesore. On the radio, the popular show Fibber McGee and Molly is on for Mason’s benefit, while Valerie does her best to ignore it. The stakeout was her idea, and she probably should be here alone-- but Mason felt a duty to tag along, and she does appreciate that. Their platonic partnership has served both of them well-- he’s a good friend. Even if he laughs at the dumbest jokes on the planet.
“Hahahaha!” laughs Mason on cue as he buries his hand into a box of Cracker Jacks. Valerie lifts her hand to instinctively turn off the annoyance of the radio, then diverts to check her watch, and finally settles for snatching the box of Cracker Jacks and polishing it off with a single tilt back of her head. Mason just stares. Valerie looks back. She looks in the empty box and holds it open over his hand.
“Well I saved you the toy,” she jokes as the small, paper-wrapped prize falls into his open palm .
There’s another quiet break in a night full of quiet breaks, until Mason again cackles at a poorly written runaway lawnmower joke.
“Do you think we’re wasting our time?” Valerie finally asks.
“I hope we are.”
“It’s hard to understand how you can stay so sympathetic to these things sometimes, Mason.”
Mason considers. “All life has value,” he says, with a shrug, “and intelligent life, especially, deserves the benefit of the doubt.” Val considers.
“Besides, I don’t think we’re that different, Valerie. Most of the District Police think every single Other in Benning is a criminal. You might be a little more cynical than me-- but you’ll still give them a chance.”
“That’s because you’re rubbing off on me,” Val rolls her eyes. “But-- this place gives me the creeps, Mason. I can see why Philo hates it-- it’s so degrading to them. It makes them seem so much more like animals.”
Mason nods.
“Can’t they see that’s just making things worse? It makes it harder to care about what happens to them, if I’m honest. If they don’t want to help themselves.”
Mason shakes his head. He looks to Val.
“I don’t think you really feel that way.”
Val eyes him, unsure exactly how to take that. Mason breaks the tension guffawing at another malfunctioning home appliance joke.
A loud creak echoes behind them. Both turn to look out the rear window of the car. There-- a humanoid figure, hooded in black, squeezes through a gate near the western side of campus. The figure’s flashlight bobbles as it struggles to make it through the fence. After shuffling free, the figure dashes towards the rear housing complex.
Mason looks down, slightly disappointed. Val looks to him.
“We can still stop him.”
Valerie and Mason follow the cloaked figure’s trail to the barracks-like housing. The back door has been forced open, the door knob busted. Valerie takes out her .38 revolver, shares a nod with Mason, and the pair quietly follow.
Inside is a large rectangular room, not unlike the exhibition hall that housed the carnival’s enclosures. It has the same bare look, and is lined with utilitarian metal bunk beds. Cheap sheets of mismatched fabrics form drapes around each bed, an attempt at privacy.
Down the hall, they can see a flashlight, quickly bobbing in and out of the sheeted bunks, looking for someone.
They scurry closer-- quicker-- to the light, and the hooded figure holding it. The figure sees them, rushes towards a door at the far wall, presumably an exit.
“Stop it NOW Philo!” Valerie stops, aims her .38, unflinching.
The figure freezes by the door, then turns-- it’s Philo, all right.
“On the ground, NOW!” demands Valerie. Mason glances behind-- there’s rustling from the bunks, as the startled Others wake.
“Get out of here!” shouts Philo. “I have to take care of her--”
Suddenly the door behind Philo bursts open-- off its hinges-- in a shocking display of strength, spilling Philo to the ground. It’s not an exit at all-- it’s a private quarters.
The Griffin stands in the now broken doorway and squawks defiantly. She lunges at and lifts Philo off the ground, wrapping powerful, talon-like hands around his neck.
“Drop him, now!” shouts Valerie. The Griffin sees her gun. She screams, and then hurls Philo into Valerie, toppling them both. The .38 skids on the floor.
Mason starts quickly towards Valerie before The Griffin squawks angrily at him, freezing him in his place. He takes a breath, and then a step forward, before a slender, scaly hand touches him.
It’s Alexandria, now dressed in a modest nightgown. Her eyes are panicked and horrified.
Philo scurries forward as the main lights in the hall suddenly come on. Mason glances behind. Now all of the carnival’s employees-- the family-- seem to be cautiously awake, peering out from their beds and fixed on the action.
The Griffin squawks again-- regaining Mason’s full attention-- and approaches Philo, who grabs the .38, furry finger on the trigger. Mason and the rest of the room watch on in helpless horror.
Valerie springs onto Philo and wrestles for the gun. He careens and shouts in an awful cacophony of donkey and human voice. The Griffin roars again and lunges towards the two of them, talons raised.
“STOP IT!”
The entire room freezes. Philo stares. The Griffin stares. Mason stares.
Valerie stares.
“I said stop it,” Alexandria says, in a soft but stern voice, again to the surprise of the entire room.
The Griffin’s raised hackles begin to relax, as do the locked arms of Philo and Valerie.
“My dear child, you can speak,” says The Griffin.
“Alex,” says Philo, dropping the gun and scurrying out from under Val’s pin, who immediately grabs the gun, but otherwise freezes to watch the action unfold. “Alex, I’m here to take you home.”
“You will do no such thing, Philo,” says The Griffin. “You will not remove her from these premises-- I can assure you.” She raises her talon threateningly.
“This ends TONIGHT, Griffin!” Philo barks. “I’ll do what I should’ve done--”
“I SAID STOP IT!” Louder this time. All turn to Alexandria again. “It’s NOT your decision.”
Philo looks smugly to The Griffin. “Consider your contract voided, Griffin--” he burns, before Alexandria says--
“NO. I’m talking to YOU.”
Philo is frozen. He can’t believe it.
“Sister?”
“This is MY life, Philo,” she says.
“But, the law of the Island--”
“We’re not on the Island anymore, Philo.”
There’s a long pause. Philo tightens, unsettled, his fists begin to flinch. Mason senses it. He steps forward, between the brother and sister. Valerie stands, gun ready as well, covering Mason from Philo’s back.
Alex touches Mason’s shoulder. He looks to her-- she shakes her head. He makes room for her as she steps forward.
“I left because I needed to leave,” she says. “Madam Griffin offered me space, until I figured out where I wanted to go.” The Griffin crosses her arms and resumes her regal demeanor, cocking her head slightly. “And I think I finally found that.”
She turns to Mason. “Mr. Mason-- your mission. Is there room for me there?”
Mason is shocked. For a moment, he can’t respond-- before snapping out of it. “Yes, of course.”
“Immediate opening?” she asks.
“As early as tonight, if you like.”
Valerie watches their exchange.
Philo looks strangely at his sister. “You can TALK,” he manages, almost chuckling in disbelief.
“Thank you for everything, Philo-- ever since we were on the Island, you’ve looked out for me. But I’ve got to do this on my own. You understand? I can take care of myself now. Brother.”
Philo considers. He nods, softly at first but rising in conviction. “Can I still see you?”
“Eventually,” she says, “but on my terms.”
He looks down, nods. He turns, faces The Griffin.
“She’s leaving tonight,” he says sharply, head raised defiant. “You can’t make her stay here any longer.”
“She will be relieved of her contract, of course,” says The Griffin. “And what salary she has due she’s welcome to take with her.”
Alexandria nods. “I’ll pack my things,” she says to Mason, exiting back towards her bunk.
Philo turns back, sharing a glare with The Griffin.
“Press charges?” Valerie asks, nodding to Philo.
“No...” says The Griffin, smoothly, surprising Val. “This one is trouble. But he’s not hopeless.”
Philo stares, slightly in disbelief as well. He considers.
Mason walks up softly. “Time to go, Philo.” The donkey-man nods.
Back at the mission, Alexandria settles in to her new quarters-- they’re modest, but remarkably less drab than what she’s used to. She unpacks her few possessions, thanks Mason and retires for the night.
Alone in Mason’s office, Valerie waits, looking out the shabby mission’s broken front window.
“I’ve seen this kind of thing before,” she says. “With people. It’s always scary.” Mason nods. “Humans are bad enough-- but, animals, doing this to animals.”
Mason thinks a moment. He shrugs.
“But they’re not animals, Val. I think Alex proved that tonight. And, in their own way, so did The Griffin-- and Philo.”
Val considers.
“Do you think he’ll leave her alone?”
Again, Mason shrugs.
“Philo was being scary, sure-- but he was convinced he was doing it for Alex’s well-being. Now, he knows that wasn’t the case. I honestly think he gets that. I think I agree with The Griffin. I think there’s hope.”
“You always think there’s hope, Mason. And maybe they aren’t animals. But they aren’t human either.”
“They don’t have to be.”
Valerie considers.
“What about you?” Mason asks. “What do you think?”
Valerie considers.
“I think no one got hurt, and your mission just got someone else who needed it. That’ll do, for tonight.”
Valerie and Mason share one of their looks. And a smile.
“Then she can’t communicate at all?” Valerie calls after him.
“She can communicate with me,” says Philo, turning sharply. “I understand her. I know what she wants. And she doesn’t want to be there.”
Valerie thumbs a ragged, pulpy advertisement for the “Chimera Carnival”, an attraction of sorts-- a zoo, really-- but not a zoo of animals. It’s a zoo of Others. Advertised in a crude, poorly rendered black and white are photos and sketches of jackal-women, cat-men, and others of indistinguishable origin.
Everything about the poster gives her the creeps.
“The Griffin exploits them like freaks,” says Philo. “It’s disgusting.”
“But these Others are all there willingly, correct?” asks Val. “They’re all being paid?”
“They’re embarrassments,” says Philo harshly.
“Is she right, Philo?” asks Mason. “Is Alexandria being paid?”
Philo shrugs. “She has no use for money. She only needs a home.”
“Which is where?” asks Val.
“I’m her brother,” says Philo defiantly. “I’m her home.”
Valerie spots Alexandria’s photograph on the poster. Long, slender limbs, scales covering her body-- a lizard-like woman-- with, for an Other, an attractive touch of human-like facial features-- thin lips, nice symmetry and easy eyes.
“We can’t just go and take her away from there, Philo-- you understand that?” asks Mason. “The carnival is a legal operation, and The Griffin is within her rights to enforce any contracts she might have with your, uh, sister.”
“There is no contract,” bites Philo. “It’s manipulation! It’s slavery! She’s paraded as a freak because she can’t defend herself!”
“Philo, calm down,” warns Val, “we can talk to The Griffin. If there’s anything illegal happening we can get the police involved--”
“NO!” interjects Philo. “NO cops! The Griffin can buy and sell them--!”
“All right, all right,” calms Mason with a lowering hand, “no police. We’ll talk to her. We’ll see what we can figure out. We’ll do what we can for your sister.”
“Save her, missionary,” Philo warns, “or I don’t care about the consequences-- I will.”
Mason and Val share an uncertain look. Val glances back to the poster, her gaze fixing on the carnival’s matriarch. Bird-like beak, sharp feathers, passion-less face, wing-like arms crossed, a quiet stare to the camera: The Griffin.
In person, her presence is even more impressive. She carries herself with a regal authority-- a calm, confident strength. She’s older, for an Other-- one of the mad Doctor Thoreau’s earliest successes. Despite her odd, animal-infused appearance, she moves much like a human, even in subtle ways, which aren’t lost on Mason, notepad in hand, listening to her side of the story. He notes a dainty Victorian quality to the decor, perhaps a key to who The Griffin really wants to be-- old knick-knacks, antiques, crowded furniture and tea cups on lace doilies fill the space. It feels like his grandmother’s house.
“They are not of genetic kin. According to your laws, he has no agency over her.” Her words are slow, thoughtfully crafted, like a witness on trial.
“We understand there’s no legal grounds for Philo’s guardianship,” Mason concedes, “but, I don’t have to tell you, of the custom of Others, while on the Island, to form surrogate families. Unofficially, we still try to respect those.”
“Of course, you don’t have to tell me,” says The Griffin with a slight scoff, “what do you think this is? This carnival is our family.”
Valerie, who leaves the note taking to Mason, considers before she speaks.
“Is there documentation, Madam Griffin, of your arrangement with your employees-- or, rather, members of your family?” She wrenches a sarcastic smile.
The Griffin ignores it with a placating blink. “Detective Sodecko, is this official police business?”
“As I said before, ma’am, I’m not with the police.”
“That’s what I thought. I’m under no obligation to you. Unless you have a warrant.”
Ever the peacekeeper, Mason intercedes. “No one wants that, Madam Griffin. We’re simply here to pacify Philo. If we didn’t look into this, we’re afraid he might do something… troubling, for everyone involved.”
The Griffin scoffs coyly again. “Philo is a coward. He’ll be no trouble.” She petitely raises a cup of tea to her beak. “I can assure you everything is perfectly legal and documented at my carnival. I see to her needs, she wants for nothing, and I take that responsibility seriously. She’s happy here.”
Mason and Val share an unconvinced look.
“And if you follow the legal procedures that protect my rights, I’ll be more than happy to speak with you again in greater detail.”
Valerie and Mason aren’t satisfied, but they aren’t getting anything else. They stand to leave. As Val starts for the door, Mason stops and turns back to The Griffin. This stops Val, who looks at him curiously.
“Something on your mind, Mr. Mason?” asks The Griffin.
“May I speak to her?”
The Griffin, unflinching, takes another sip of tea. “She can’t speak back,” she says coldly.
“I’d just really like to meet her,” says Mason with a calming smile.
The Griffin points to a rudimentary hand-painted post above the door, an early draft of the carnival’s signage: ADMISSION 50 CENTS
“Paying customers are always welcome to meet my family.”
Val and Mason wander the corridors of the carnival uneasily. The warehouse-- a munitions plant decommissioned after the war-- had been converted into a large hall of wire cages. The enclosures each hold a voluntary captive, all Others, and all almost naked, stalking about as if more animal than man, climbing trees and hunting imaginary prey; pouncing as if to frighten guests with excited thrills; licking their fur and eating from bowls cemented into the ground.
Though not overcrowded, the carnival is well populated with curious human sightseers: a mix of families, business men, street children-- Mason notes their chuckles and gasps and excited, nervous chatter. It seems less a zoo and more a sideshow.
Mason and Valerie quickly skirt through the crowds and past the enclosures of the jackal-woman, the cat-man, the bat-like creature and the tall thing that’s a mix of amphibian and mammal-- until finding themselves at an isolated enclosure at the rear of the facility. Tucked in a corner, almost hidden. There, Valerie sees Alexandria for the first time in person-- as tall, sleek and dignified as she appeared on the crude poster. She rests on a large log stretched between two wooden posts near the top of the enclosure. She seems to sleep.
For a moment, Valerie and Mason just watch, preferring not to disturb her. She finally notices them-- but believing them simply spectators, turns away from them to face the wall.
“Alexandria?” asks Mason.
After a moment, the Other turns back to face them, her eyes both curious and concerned.
“My name’s Mason,” he says, “and this is detective Valerie Sodecko. I run a mission in Benning, for, Others--”
Suddenly, excitedly, Alexandria drops from the tree, some nine feet to the floor of the enclosure, landing with a dancer’s grace. She rushes to the cage fence, motioning with her hand for Mason and Valerie to come closer. After another shared, unnerved look, the pair approach.
Alexandria dashes away, digging into the rear corner of the green painted hay lining the bottom of her cage. She returns, almost giggling, with a sheet of ripped paper in hand. She unfolds it, shows it to Mason and points.
It’s a newspaper article-- a picture of him, about his mission.
“You’ve heard of me?” asks Mason.
She doesn’t nod, but her eyes seem to say yes.
“I’m glad to know that.”
She stares excitedly back at Mason.
“Can we ask you something, Alexandria?” Valerie cuts in. Alexandria watches as Val steps slightly closer.
“I know you don’t speak,” Valerie continues, “but maybe you can nod, yes or no?”
Alexandria nods yes.
“We’ve talked to Philo,” says Valerie. The smile melts from Alexandria’s face, and she looks away.
“We don’t mean to scare you,” says Mason. “He’s just concerned. He is your brother, right? At least according to Island law?”
Alexandria looks up. She nods yes, sheepishly.
“He’s concerned,” begins Mason, “that you’re not here because you want to be. That you’ve been-- coerced into this. Is that true?”
She doesn’t respond.
“We want to help you, if you need help,” says Val, “but we need to know if Philo has a right to be concerned.”
“You understand what we’re asking?” intercuts Mason. “If The Griffin has you here, without you wanting to be here…”
Again, she just stares at Mason, no response. Valerie and Mason share a look.
“We’re sorry to have bothered you,” says Mason. He starts to walk away-- Val follows, with a nod to Alexandria, who contemplates with a turn.
This time, it’s Valerie who stops short. Mason pulls up, looks at her. She turns around to Alexandria.
“Should we be worried about Philo? Are you trying to get away from him?”
Alexandria looks up yet again, and just looks away-- again seemingly no response. But Valerie thinks she sees one. She shares another one of their looks with Mason, and then nods to the Other.
“Thank you for your time.”
Alexandria watches the pair leave, her eyes drifting back to the newspaper article. She touches the photograph of the mission, a telling gaze-- before, suddenly sensing a presence, she turns towards the dark hallway.
The Griffin stalks by and glares at Alexandria for a small moment-- then continues down the hall.
Neither Mason nor Valerie expected the conversation to go well, but Philo was especially outraged after they described their encounter with Alexandria. He became inconsolable when they tried to convince him to leave the situation alone. He’s angry-- and dangerous-- and Valerie and Mason decided their job in all of this wasn’t quite done yet.
It’s the third day of the stakeout when it seems like maybe Philo is more bark than bite after all-- maybe The Griffin was right.
The broken parking lot outside the carnival is mostly empty this time of night. While most of the employees-- or members of the “family”-- live in a barrack unit retrofitted from another building on the campus, none aside perhaps from The Griffin have automobiles.
Aside from the cheap banners The Griffin uses to attract ogling customers, the entire campus seems dead and deserted, just another urban post-war eyesore. On the radio, the popular show Fibber McGee and Molly is on for Mason’s benefit, while Valerie does her best to ignore it. The stakeout was her idea, and she probably should be here alone-- but Mason felt a duty to tag along, and she does appreciate that. Their platonic partnership has served both of them well-- he’s a good friend. Even if he laughs at the dumbest jokes on the planet.
“Hahahaha!” laughs Mason on cue as he buries his hand into a box of Cracker Jacks. Valerie lifts her hand to instinctively turn off the annoyance of the radio, then diverts to check her watch, and finally settles for snatching the box of Cracker Jacks and polishing it off with a single tilt back of her head. Mason just stares. Valerie looks back. She looks in the empty box and holds it open over his hand.
“Well I saved you the toy,” she jokes as the small, paper-wrapped prize falls into his open palm .
There’s another quiet break in a night full of quiet breaks, until Mason again cackles at a poorly written runaway lawnmower joke.
“Do you think we’re wasting our time?” Valerie finally asks.
“I hope we are.”
“It’s hard to understand how you can stay so sympathetic to these things sometimes, Mason.”
Mason considers. “All life has value,” he says, with a shrug, “and intelligent life, especially, deserves the benefit of the doubt.” Val considers.
“Besides, I don’t think we’re that different, Valerie. Most of the District Police think every single Other in Benning is a criminal. You might be a little more cynical than me-- but you’ll still give them a chance.”
“That’s because you’re rubbing off on me,” Val rolls her eyes. “But-- this place gives me the creeps, Mason. I can see why Philo hates it-- it’s so degrading to them. It makes them seem so much more like animals.”
Mason nods.
“Can’t they see that’s just making things worse? It makes it harder to care about what happens to them, if I’m honest. If they don’t want to help themselves.”
Mason shakes his head. He looks to Val.
“I don’t think you really feel that way.”
Val eyes him, unsure exactly how to take that. Mason breaks the tension guffawing at another malfunctioning home appliance joke.
A loud creak echoes behind them. Both turn to look out the rear window of the car. There-- a humanoid figure, hooded in black, squeezes through a gate near the western side of campus. The figure’s flashlight bobbles as it struggles to make it through the fence. After shuffling free, the figure dashes towards the rear housing complex.
Mason looks down, slightly disappointed. Val looks to him.
“We can still stop him.”
Valerie and Mason follow the cloaked figure’s trail to the barracks-like housing. The back door has been forced open, the door knob busted. Valerie takes out her .38 revolver, shares a nod with Mason, and the pair quietly follow.
Inside is a large rectangular room, not unlike the exhibition hall that housed the carnival’s enclosures. It has the same bare look, and is lined with utilitarian metal bunk beds. Cheap sheets of mismatched fabrics form drapes around each bed, an attempt at privacy.
Down the hall, they can see a flashlight, quickly bobbing in and out of the sheeted bunks, looking for someone.
They scurry closer-- quicker-- to the light, and the hooded figure holding it. The figure sees them, rushes towards a door at the far wall, presumably an exit.
“Stop it NOW Philo!” Valerie stops, aims her .38, unflinching.
The figure freezes by the door, then turns-- it’s Philo, all right.
“On the ground, NOW!” demands Valerie. Mason glances behind-- there’s rustling from the bunks, as the startled Others wake.
“Get out of here!” shouts Philo. “I have to take care of her--”
Suddenly the door behind Philo bursts open-- off its hinges-- in a shocking display of strength, spilling Philo to the ground. It’s not an exit at all-- it’s a private quarters.
The Griffin stands in the now broken doorway and squawks defiantly. She lunges at and lifts Philo off the ground, wrapping powerful, talon-like hands around his neck.
“Drop him, now!” shouts Valerie. The Griffin sees her gun. She screams, and then hurls Philo into Valerie, toppling them both. The .38 skids on the floor.
Mason starts quickly towards Valerie before The Griffin squawks angrily at him, freezing him in his place. He takes a breath, and then a step forward, before a slender, scaly hand touches him.
It’s Alexandria, now dressed in a modest nightgown. Her eyes are panicked and horrified.
Philo scurries forward as the main lights in the hall suddenly come on. Mason glances behind. Now all of the carnival’s employees-- the family-- seem to be cautiously awake, peering out from their beds and fixed on the action.
The Griffin squawks again-- regaining Mason’s full attention-- and approaches Philo, who grabs the .38, furry finger on the trigger. Mason and the rest of the room watch on in helpless horror.
Valerie springs onto Philo and wrestles for the gun. He careens and shouts in an awful cacophony of donkey and human voice. The Griffin roars again and lunges towards the two of them, talons raised.
“STOP IT!”
The entire room freezes. Philo stares. The Griffin stares. Mason stares.
Valerie stares.
“I said stop it,” Alexandria says, in a soft but stern voice, again to the surprise of the entire room.
The Griffin’s raised hackles begin to relax, as do the locked arms of Philo and Valerie.
“My dear child, you can speak,” says The Griffin.
“Alex,” says Philo, dropping the gun and scurrying out from under Val’s pin, who immediately grabs the gun, but otherwise freezes to watch the action unfold. “Alex, I’m here to take you home.”
“You will do no such thing, Philo,” says The Griffin. “You will not remove her from these premises-- I can assure you.” She raises her talon threateningly.
“This ends TONIGHT, Griffin!” Philo barks. “I’ll do what I should’ve done--”
“I SAID STOP IT!” Louder this time. All turn to Alexandria again. “It’s NOT your decision.”
Philo looks smugly to The Griffin. “Consider your contract voided, Griffin--” he burns, before Alexandria says--
“NO. I’m talking to YOU.”
Philo is frozen. He can’t believe it.
“Sister?”
“This is MY life, Philo,” she says.
“But, the law of the Island--”
“We’re not on the Island anymore, Philo.”
There’s a long pause. Philo tightens, unsettled, his fists begin to flinch. Mason senses it. He steps forward, between the brother and sister. Valerie stands, gun ready as well, covering Mason from Philo’s back.
Alex touches Mason’s shoulder. He looks to her-- she shakes her head. He makes room for her as she steps forward.
“I left because I needed to leave,” she says. “Madam Griffin offered me space, until I figured out where I wanted to go.” The Griffin crosses her arms and resumes her regal demeanor, cocking her head slightly. “And I think I finally found that.”
She turns to Mason. “Mr. Mason-- your mission. Is there room for me there?”
Mason is shocked. For a moment, he can’t respond-- before snapping out of it. “Yes, of course.”
“Immediate opening?” she asks.
“As early as tonight, if you like.”
Valerie watches their exchange.
Philo looks strangely at his sister. “You can TALK,” he manages, almost chuckling in disbelief.
“Thank you for everything, Philo-- ever since we were on the Island, you’ve looked out for me. But I’ve got to do this on my own. You understand? I can take care of myself now. Brother.”
Philo considers. He nods, softly at first but rising in conviction. “Can I still see you?”
“Eventually,” she says, “but on my terms.”
He looks down, nods. He turns, faces The Griffin.
“She’s leaving tonight,” he says sharply, head raised defiant. “You can’t make her stay here any longer.”
“She will be relieved of her contract, of course,” says The Griffin. “And what salary she has due she’s welcome to take with her.”
Alexandria nods. “I’ll pack my things,” she says to Mason, exiting back towards her bunk.
Philo turns back, sharing a glare with The Griffin.
“Press charges?” Valerie asks, nodding to Philo.
“No...” says The Griffin, smoothly, surprising Val. “This one is trouble. But he’s not hopeless.”
Philo stares, slightly in disbelief as well. He considers.
Mason walks up softly. “Time to go, Philo.” The donkey-man nods.
Back at the mission, Alexandria settles in to her new quarters-- they’re modest, but remarkably less drab than what she’s used to. She unpacks her few possessions, thanks Mason and retires for the night.
Alone in Mason’s office, Valerie waits, looking out the shabby mission’s broken front window.
“I’ve seen this kind of thing before,” she says. “With people. It’s always scary.” Mason nods. “Humans are bad enough-- but, animals, doing this to animals.”
Mason thinks a moment. He shrugs.
“But they’re not animals, Val. I think Alex proved that tonight. And, in their own way, so did The Griffin-- and Philo.”
Val considers.
“Do you think he’ll leave her alone?”
Again, Mason shrugs.
“Philo was being scary, sure-- but he was convinced he was doing it for Alex’s well-being. Now, he knows that wasn’t the case. I honestly think he gets that. I think I agree with The Griffin. I think there’s hope.”
“You always think there’s hope, Mason. And maybe they aren’t animals. But they aren’t human either.”
“They don’t have to be.”
Valerie considers.
“What about you?” Mason asks. “What do you think?”
Valerie considers.
“I think no one got hurt, and your mission just got someone else who needed it. That’ll do, for tonight.”
Valerie and Mason share one of their looks. And a smile.
DID YOU KNOW?
There have actually been “human zoos” that existed throughout the 19th and 20th centuries Also called ethnological expositions, these exhibits often consisted of housing peoples deemed “primitive” by the culture hosting the exhibit in a zoo-like enclosure. While most popular in the 1800s and early-1900s (mostly in Europe, but also some in the US), this practice fell out of favor when cultural sensibilities changed, and such exhibitions became viewed as racist and degrading to the people on “display.”
DISCUSSION QUESTION
In the story, The Griffin has named her zoo the “Chimera Carnival” because a chimera is an organism containing a mix of different genetic tissues. Others, in the world of “Mission: Monsters”, are chimeras, made up of different animals and even human parts. While Others are fictional, some scientists are already breeding pigs and other species with genetic similarities to humans in hopes of one day using these animals to harvest organs for humans in need of a transplant-- which would make those recipients, by definition, chimeras! Called Xenotransplation, there have been previous unsuccessful attempts, but it currently remains a largely theoretical field. Do you think humans could one day use animal transplants for humans in need of them? Can you think of any scientific or ethical hurdles that might keep this from ever being successful on a large scale?
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