A flash of light. A crash of thunder; it’s this dream again. The one where it all began. It starts the same every time, that night all those years ago, when they took me. They picked me up right off the side street and took me back to them; so many of them. I don’t know how long I was there, maybe a day, maybe a year. I was sedated most of the time; they didn’t want me awake. I didn’t want them to keep me awake with what they were doing to my body. Every time I woke up, I had a new limb, body, or ear, losing my identity. And it wasn’t just me; there were others too, undergoing the same modifications as me. The pain I felt was excruciating. The dream ends, fading to black.

As I awake, I take in my surroundings, thinking for one awful second that I’m back in the lab, but soon I come to my senses and realize that I am safe in my home. A rush of pride accompanies that thought as I remember that I alone can feel such a sense of pride in the animal kingdom. Something they did to me in the lab must have enhanced my feelings and thoughts; at least, that is my theory. But looking around what I’ve built makes me forget all that for a second as I take in the sections of dirt I burrowed out for rooms, the bed with its moss, and the window made out of that old tire I found. It’s not much, but it’s mine. But then my ears jump up as I hear a small sound coming from the door. No one has found this place before. With a wave of fear, I realize I don’t know what this is, and I can’t help wondering if the lab has found me.

I push myself against the wall, trying to hide from whatever is coming as I hear the steps coming closer. I can’t take it anymore. I call, “Who goes there?” in the most intimidating voice I can muster. A small voice calls back to me, “It’s me, June.” I feel a sense of relief. June is a kindly old rabbit and is the one animal in these parts who doesn’t run away at the mere sight of me. All animals can talk to each other, of course, except the humans, who made their own languages instead of following those laid out by nature. June calls again: “I just wanted to make sure you’re still okay.” I respond with, “Of course I am; why wouldn’t I be?”. “Maybe the fact that you escaped from a bunch of scientists playing mix and match with your body a few months ago? “I thought we said we didn’t talk about the lab,” I respond. “Either way, I have some news for you.” I am confused; there is no news in these parts. `Everything is almost unchanging, so I ask, “What news?”. “A friend of mine found the lab.”

When I had escaped the lab; finally able to break out of my cage, I ran. I ran as far and as fast as I possibly could, just to get away from there, but this meant that I had no clue where the lab actually was. “It’s south of here, maybe 20 kilometres .” “Why is that important?” I ask, “I don’t want to go back there!”. “But the others are there, those like you.” June replied. She’s right, I can’t just give up on them, but I don’t want to leave my life that I’ve built here. “Do I have to help them? How could I even help?”. “We’ll go together; we have to help them! It’s only a matter of time before others find out, and they will be killed or experimented on!” I realize she’s right, and I have no choice. I need to help them; they are still scared like I was. Like I am. “You’re right,” I admit. “We’ll leave at dawn tomorrow.”

The next day, after packing up my few belongings, we set off to the south. I didn’t want to leave my life here, but I consoled myself with the fact that this wasn’t permanent and that there were people who needed my help. The next week or so was a blur, a mix of hard walking, long stretches with no food or shelter, and heat. We managed to cope though, hiding in garbage bins, burrows, and whatever else we could find. We also managed to find food and water, although sometimes it was difficult, and we had to get dangerously close to humans. It’s fine if someone sees June, but if I’m spotted, it will not end well. After another long day of walking, June looked into the distance and said, “We’re here. I see the lab.”

The lab wasn’t trying to hide; it reached up into the sky, was around 4 stories, had large windows, and was built in a very modern style. The main entrance was down on the right of the building, but there were always humans going through the large double doors. “We can’t go in that way; there are too many humans,” I remark. June responds by saying, “Of course not, that’s why we’re going through there.” She points with her snout towards a small vent on the left side of the building. “Will that get us to the others?” I ask. “Who knows? We don’t even know where they are,” she responds. “It’ll have to do.” We sneak closer to the vent, keeping low and out of sight. We only just managed to avoid being seen once. Eventually after a few nerve racking minutes, we managed to make it to the vent. I used my paws and teeth to break through, and just like that, we were in.

Sneaking through the vents was challenging, and we had to be careful about making too much noise. The vents were solid metal, so easily held our weight, but it was very uncomfortable to move. June had some trouble with the metal surface, as it made it hard for her to hop along. We went slowly, navigating gaps, inclines, and finding routes around dangerous areas like the fans. At every grate we saw we looked through the slates and observed the room inside, moving on when we ruled the room out as where they were holding the others.

After an hour or two of this endless searching, June calls me over and says, “Hey, I think I found it!”. “Really?” I ask. “Yeah, I think so. Come have a look.” I walk over to the vent where June is and look through. I see a dark room with metal cages all along the wall and the sound of animals. “I think you’re right, but how do we get down?” I query. “We’ll have to jump,” is her response. I don’t want to jump all the way down, but I see no other way, so reluctantly, I break the vent and then take a few breaths. With a large leap, I jump down, feeling the air push past my body, and then feel a large impact as I hit the ground. I wait for June to come down and then immediately start breaking the locks on the cages, which is easy from outside. I’m so scared to be back in this place that I forget to even look at the creatures trapped inside. I turn my head now to look, and what I see scares me.

They are all me; every single one of us identical. Same fox face, dog body and paws; tail and ears of who knows what. I thought they had created me as an experiment, but apparently I was the first of a new species. This revelation shakes me to my core. This means that I am not unique. I really don’t know what to think of this, and I just stand there gaping until one of them asks me, “Who are you?” My only response is, “I’m one of you; I’m here to rescue you.” “Really? I didn’t think we would ever get out of here,” was the response from another of the others. Another offers a question, “What are we?” I say, “That doesn’t matter now; we need to get out of here before someone sees us. Does anyone know a way out? We can’t get back up to the vent.” June pipes in, saying, “I think I hear someone,” and right on cue, five scientists dressed in lab coats and googles burst through the front doors of the room.

Initially I was scared, but then I remembered the odds. There were around thirty of us, and five of them. I led the charge towards them as the scientists slowly approached towards us. It was over in a blur, a flurry of claws and jaws scraping over our attackers, leaving them battered and bruised as we raced for the still-open doors. I led the charge, hitting at least two of the scientists, and then waiting for June until I went through the doors. We all ran together, finding our way out of the building and meeting no resistance, until we made our way out of the giant double doors and into the distance. Towards home. A week later, after long stretches of travelling and figuring out who we were with the others, I saw a familiar clearing in the distance and bolted towards my home.

A month later, I found myself in the middle of a town, but this wasn’t a normal human town. This was our town. Everyone has a house now that they built themselves with help from others; their own sense of pride to help them recover like I did. We made wise old June our mayor, leading us in construction and decisions, and as the sun set that day, I felt as happy as I ever have.