Faolan

By
Nathan Hopp

            It lay motionless on the ground, barely breathing at all. Tail curled against its warm, furry chest, paws
tiredly stretched out along the flattened dirt, its body unmoving yet majestic
as the stars; it preferred this when no one was watching. It preferred silent
isolation over loud noise.

            Beyond the strange reflection adjacent to its den, faint
noises could be heard. “…one of the last
surviving timber wolves, or canis lupus,
in all of the North American continent. His name is ‘Faolan’, and you’ll soon
see feeding…”

            Strange creatures could be viewed through the reflection,
beings with stubby, pink and olive-colored muzzles in every different kind of
shade imaginable. Some younger ones carried long fur on their heads, elders
having none, but most held what seemed to be glowing, square-shaped tablets of
stone in their stubby paws. Most of the time they simply raised their
companions up towards the reflection, followed by a flashing light like the
stars of a nighttime sky. Honestly, it did not care about understanding the
noises each creature made, how many of them were watching or why they gazed at
him like the rising sun.

Not
anymore.

Years
of isolation in its den have done nothing to quell its hunger for more than the
taste of a meat carcass appearing from nowhere. Despite living its entire life
in the den, a strange place of three walls painted to mimic a green forest, it
had other memories. It remembered a time before there were the creatures behind
the strange reflection. It remembered another life.

It
could see it as clear as the water streaming into the pond in its den and taste
it on its tongue while raising an eye open. The sensations of pine needles
under paw pads, Diverse scents unlike those found in its confinement, from the
smell of morning dew to the aromas of wildflowers in a pristine meadow. In it
was another animal like him—a female!

Like
a crack of thunder, more memories came flooding back. Passionate play between
them, followed by many months together in the same territory. Both were lone
creatures whose species has dwindled over time, their previous packs long since
gone. However, that didn’t matter after mating season came.

Her
belly grew larger each passing bright moon, and it remembered tending to her,
hunting for her, and sleeping alongside her in their own den. There were nights
they nuzzled into each other’s necks, whining and licking the other’s noses by
playful gestures. She loved him, and they their pups.

Another
carcass suddenly plopped into the same area of the den, but this time it didn’t
eat. It felt entwined into the memories from before, and would not untangle
away. Moonlight from the cloudless night sky, a lick across its fuzzy cheek,
smaller tails wagging around its sitting form, and the sounds of pups crying
for attention.

Pups?
Why didn’t it remember until now!?

Raising
its head to the reflection, it began growling and snarling at the creatures
beyond. What had they done to its pups?! If they had done anything to them,
then it wanted to tear their throats out!

At
last, the group of creatures behind the reflection fearfully disbanded, leaving
it alone in solitude. Sometime later, after growling more of the creatures
away, it turned back to its sleeping spot to rest its eyes in peace. Glancing
to the carcass in the corner, no hunger came to mind. It didn’t feel the need
to eat today, let alone because the creatures wanted entertainment. In fact, it
hadn’t felt that same hunger since before its imprisonment. Closing its eyes
and tried rousing for more of the distant memories, little did it realize
consciousness had already left its body behind.

After
closing time had finally arrived, two of the creatures came inside the den, and
began speaking.

“Why do you suppose it’s not following the
proper programming?” one of the exhibit attendants asked his co-worker as
they knelt down. “I thought by now,
‘Faolan’ would stop acting like this and act like a real wolf.”

Taking
a screwdriver, he placed it behind the unmoving ear until a metal rod protruded
from the side of its head. Carefully and elegantly, the second creature began examining
it.

“I keep telling you, he needs time to adjust.”
he replied. “This modified android canine
has all of the memories of the real Faolan, and three months isn’t enough time
for a timid creature like him to adjust to a new body it thinks is his.”

“Almost feel sorry for it,” the other
creature spoke a moment into their diagnostics, her voice soft. “I mean, there aren’t anymore like him, and
all the tourists can do is see old videos and this replica. Did you hear
they’re considering it for the Bengal tiger now that there’s only several left?”

“I heard. Hard to believe there’ll only be a
few left soon. I don’t know why you’re being so sad about it all of a sudden
though. They’re still alive technically, right? Not extinct per se.”

“All I’m saying is that all this hunk of
metal will do is go imitating while the public pays to see it behind some glass.
Look at Faolan here; he doesn’t even know…”

“Don’t weep for it kid, you’ll be sobbing all
evening,” he groaned, then carefully tapped the rod before it retracted
into the camouflaging fur. “There doesn’t
seem to be anything wrong, but I’m deleting its memories from the past
twenty-four hours so it doesn’t repeat itself again. Like I said, ‘Faolan’
needs more time adjusting and such. By next morning, tell the tour guide to be
wary of more ticks like what happened. Let’s go.”

The
elder creature stood up and walked to the hidden exit within the exhibit, but
the younger female lingered a moment. Looking down at the unconscious—no,
unliving—wolf in its den, she couldn’t help himself from scratching an ear.
Even though metal and wiring ran under its fur like robotic veins, she couldn’t
help but think of how warm it must’ve felt to pet a real North American gray
wolf. There were still dogs, but none had the majesty she could sense in it.

“Kid! I know you feel sentimental, but I
don’t wanna lock you in for tomorrow…”

Sighing
deeply, she stood back up and wished Faolan a good night’s sleep.

Morning
came by hours later, and it awoke to a new dawn. Stretching its legs and tail
tiredly, it then lay motionless on the ground, barely breathing at all.