Tortoise Reform Page 7

  "Gee,” she said, putting on big eyes. It was in her mind: children were supposed to have big eyes. It made them look innocent. “Why are you doing it?"

  "We're on assignment for this big outfit, MDI. We do what they tell us, because they pay our way."

  "MDI?"

  "Mall Development Inc. Biggest outfit in these parts. They're going to put a huge mall here."

  "Gee. The guy who runs that must be pretty important."

  "He sure is. That's Mr. Bennington. I hear he's coming up here tomorrow to see how it's going. So we mean to have the survey done right."

  "Guess I'd better get out of your way, then. Bye."

  "Bye,” he agreed as she walked away.

  "You found the key person,” Cottontail thought.

  She nodded. “Mr. Bennington,” she thought, keeping her mouth closed. “He's the one we have to reach."

  "You have an idea,” Cottontail thought, feeling it in her mind.

  "Yes. Maybe if we can just talk to Mr. Bennington, we can get him to stop the construction. Or at least do it somewhere else."

  "Why would he do that?"

  "Gee, I hadn't thought that far. He's not going to change his mind just because a ten-year-old girl asks him to, and I can't ask him anyway, because then he'd want to know why, and I can't tell him. I can't tell anybody in this realm. So I guess it's a bad idea."

  Cottontail considered. He found it easy to be thoughtful, because of his contact with her large mind. “The burrow mates might have a better idea. But I can't just bound back to them while my foot is injured. We'll have to get a better idea ourselves."

  "We can try,” she agreed. “Maybe if we knew exactly why he's putting the mall here, we could find a reason to put it somewhere else."

  "Can we guess?"

  "Sure. Malls are big shopping centers. They put them in cities, or where there are several towns close by, so a lot of people will come. They must figure people will come here, and they'll make a lot of money."

  "Money?"

  "I guess you don't have it in your realm. It's a—a way of getting things without working for them right then. Everybody wants more money."

  "Could we find some money for him so he wouldn't need it from the mall?"

  She shook her head. “I don't think so. It's not easy to find money."

  "Could there be something else he wants, that we could find for him?"

  She laughed. “Not telepathy! That's out, even if he has the mind for it. But maybe we should study his mind, if we can. Just in case there's something. We're desperate."

  Cottontail agreed. “We can learn about him today, and go to see him tomorrow. I think I will have to go to your home this night."

  "I agree. You need to let that foot heal, so you can run up the tunnel to your burrow. I can scrounge up some lettuce for you, or whatever."

  She carried him to the house she lived in, and she hid him in her room. She brought him assorted types of food, such as lettuce, bread, and a carrot. They were not his normal diet, but edible.

  She also fetched a pile of papers she called a newspaper. There was what she called an article that confirmed that Mr. Bennington, the CEO of MDI, the mall maker, was in town. “Tomorrow,” she thought with excitement. “Tomorrow we can go see him. Maybe it'll be all right."

  * * * *

  Next morning after eating and seeing the adults go out, Rowan packed a traveling bag with a pretty red dress and matching shoes. “These are my company clothes,” she explained to Cottontail. “For when I have to be a Girl. I hardly ever use them. But if I'm to talk with this big old boss man, I'd better play the part."

  "Why don't you like being a girl?” Cottontail asked.

  "My mother was a girl. Then she grew up and got married and became a drudge. I don't want any of that. I'd rather play computer games, and run through fields of flowers forever. But I know I'll grow up all too soon anyway."

  "I am a young rabbit. I am eager to grow up. All of the burrow mates are young. We all want to grow up and complete the burrow and be recognized."

  "Well, you have a better realm,” she thought. “I'd surely want to grow up too, if I could be a citizen there."

  That did seem to make sense. The girl's mental picture of grown life was grim. It seemed that humans worked all day, just as the ones of this house did, and seldom relaxed.

  She carried him and the bag down to her bicycle. “You can ride in one pannier and I'll jam the bag in the other. But I'm not sure what we'll do in town."

  "I do not think it would be safe for me to run on the ground, even if my foot were better,” he thought. “You will have to carry me."

  "Right. But how will I carry you so as not to make a scene?"

  "In the bag."

  "But there's not room for you along with my clothing.” Then immediately she answered her own objection. “The jeans can stay with the bike. Got it."

  They rode into town. This was a new experience for cottontail, but her mind reassured him. He hunched down in the pannier, peeping out through crevices in the material.

  The first stop was at the library. “I can check the newspaper file here, and change in their rest room,” she thought.

  She removed the dress and put Cottontail in the bag. Then she carried both into the building. She went to the front desk. “I understand Mr. Bennington is in town today,” she thought with vocals to the woman she thought of as the librarian. “I'd like to look at recent newspaper clippings on him."

  "We have online access,” the librarian vocalized, the translated thoughts coming through Rowan's mind. “I'll set it up for you."

  "Great!” Her thought continued: “I forgot that a library would have a computer. This makes it much easier."

  "What is that?” Cottontail asked.

  "Its a—a machine that lets you connect all over the world. Like—well, suppose you had an animal who could reach out its mind to anyone in your realm, no matter how far away? This is sort of like that. Only it's limited to a screen. Just follow my mind as I research; you'll see."

  The bicycle was a machine that helped the girl travel. It seemed this was another kind of help. The wonders of this realm just kept coming.

  Soon Rowan was looking into a machine, deep in research about the man. It turned out that the obscure markings on the screen spoke to her mind; she called this Reading, and it was much the same as the vocal sounds. It was as if Cottontail was receiving thoughts from the screen, all about this important man. “He's got a granddaughter my age!” she exclaimed. “That's great! He'll be a soft touch for a winsome girl.” She grimaced. “Though I hate being winsome."

  She went to the rest room and quickly changed clothing. She donned the pretty dress, put on the matching shoes, combed out her hair, and tied it back in a loose ponytail with the ribbon. Cottontail followed all this in her mind with interest; she was making herself into a Girl.

  Rowan carried the bag and her old clothing out of the library. She put them into the pannier baskets and mounted the machine. “I don't like dressing like this,” she thought. “And I really don't like riding a bike in a dress! But it has to be done."

  "Your kind is much influenced by appearance,” Cottontail thought, trying to understand.

  "Yes—especially when it comes to girls. It's even worse with big girls. I hate it, but that's the way it is."

  They came to another building. “This is the hotel where Mr. Bennington is staying,” Rowan explained. “Now comes the hard part."

  Cottontail felt her nervousness. “Is this thing dangerous?"

  "In a way. If it doesn't work, I may be in trouble. Again."

  She took the bag with Cottontail, leaving her other clothing in the basket. She entered the building.

  "This is where the man is?” Cottontail asked.

  "It's his hotel. It's time for lunch, so I figure he'll eat here. He has business in the afternoon, so he has to eat now. If I guessed right."

  "What if you guessed wrong?"

  "That's ano
ther kind of trouble. I won't catch him, and we won't be able to talk him out of the project. So I've got to catch him."

  "Maybe I can help. I can seek his mind."

  "But you don't know him. How can you find his mind? Especially if it's closed?"

  "There may be some leakage. I can search for thought about the big mall project."

  "Okay. See if you can tell whether he's here?"

  Cottontail searched, and soon found thoughts of the mall. It was easier, because most minds here were closed, so there was little mental clutter; he was able to orient on that single thought. “Yes, he is in this building."

  "Great! What direction?"

  He showed her mind the direction.

  "That's where the hotel restaurant is. So I guessed right."

  She came to the restaurant. But as she was going in, a man intercepted her. Cotton felt her thrill of alarm.

  "May I help you miss?” the words came, phrased as a question, but it was actually a challenge. Cottontail felt her mixed reactions as she figured out how to respond.

  "I—I was looking for someone,” she answered the man, who it seemed was a hotel official, somewhat like the burrow landlord. “I don't know whether he's here yet."

  "Who?"

  "Mister—Mister Bennington."

  "Yes, he is having lunch. However—"

  "Good!” She slid by him and went into the restaurant.

  "Hey!” But he did not pursue her.

  "Now where is he?” she thought desperately. There were several men at tables, and none matched the picture in the newspaper file.

  "I pick up a mind trace of a business person,” Cottontail thought. “I believe it is the same one that thought of the mall before. That way.” He indicated the direction with a mental nudge. Because he was in the bag, he could not see directly, and was focusing on mental things.

  "You're sure? I don't want to barge in on the wrong person.” Her nervousness continued. Cottontail was aware of her pulses racing.

  "It is the only one of its kind,” he assured her.

  "Okay. I'm taking the plunge.” She headed in that direction.

  Rowan found Mr. Bennington's table. He was alone, sipping a glass of something. “Now it's do or die, or maybe both,” she thought. “I just hope my nerve holds out."

  "I can support that.” Cottontail sent a bolstering signal, supporting her confidence.

  "Hey, I feel that! Thanks!"

  She slid into the chair opposite the man. She smiled as he looked up, startled.

  "Are you lost, child?” Mr. Bennington asked.

  "I hope not,” Rowan said, smiling again. “You're the important Mr. Bennington, aren't you?"

  "I am Mr. Bennington, but I don't believe I know you."

  "I'm Rowan.” She smiled once more. Cottontail was aware of the effort it took; she was frightened.

  "Oh—you must be a friend of my granddaughter's. She's not with me today."

  "Mr. Bennington, I don't know your granddaughter. But I wish I did. She must be a nice girl."

  Cottontail felt the man focusing suspiciously. “What are you doing here?"

  "Mr. Bennington, please don't be mad at me. I just had to talk to you."

  The suspicion remained. “What possible business could a girl like you have with me?"

  "The big mall. I live right near it, and where I play is going to be all paved over. Please, please, Mr. Bennington, don't build it there!"

  "Child, to you have any idea how much is invested in this project? We can't simply—"

  "I hate this,” Rowan thought to Cottontail as she clouded up her face, forcing tears.

  It worked. Cottontail felt the emotion. Rowan reminded the man of his granddaughter, and he did not like to see her cry. Cottontail reached out with his thought, reinforcing that mood. It was not easy to get into the man's mind, but it was possible to enhance naturally occurring thoughts. “Oh, please, child! There are other places for you to play. I'm sure your family will be amply compensated for its property."

  "But—but it won't be the same! They're going to fill in the big sinkhole!” She dabbed at her face with a tissue.

  The man in charge of the restaurant approached. Cottontail felt his mind: he had decided that the girl was an intruder and needed to be removed. “Is this person bothering you, Mr. Bennington?"

  Bennington man opened his mouth to speak. Rowan gave him a tearful look. He hesitated. Cottontail felt the interplay of the three human minds, and gave another shove in the right direction. “Er, no, thank you, maitre d'. It's quite all right."

  Not fully reassured, the man retreated.

  "Thanks for not turning me in,” Rowan said. She made a hesitant smile, like a trace of sunshine peeking around a cloud.

  "Child, that doesn't change the situation. Actually I don't even decide exactly where the mall will be located; there are two promising sites, and the better one will be selected in due course.” But now the man wanted the girl to like him. He knew she was not his granddaughter, but the emotional association was strong. Cottontail was making sure of that.

  "Two sites,” Rowan repeated. “Who does decide?"

  "My leading consultant, George Dayson of Dayson Consultancies. His judgment is unerring, and I have learned to defer to it. He is even now in the final stage of evaluation, and I expect his report within days. So perhaps your concern is not merited."

  "Dayson,” she repeated, memorizing it. “You do what he says."

  "In a manner. Of course the final responsibility is mine, but as I said—"

  "Thanks, Mr. Bennington. I'll go talk to him.” She stood up.

  But the association, once enhanced, was not readily stopped. “Now wait, child! It is hardly that simple."

  Rowan froze in place. “It isn't?"

  Mr. Bennington smiled. “Stay and visit with me, and I will explain. You do remind me of my granddaughter."

  "I—I really can't—"

  "Ice cream? What flavor?"

  Cottontail felt the surge of longing. She did like ice cream. “I don't—I shouldn't—"

  Mr. Bennington caught the maitre d's eye, and suddenly the man was at the table. “A dish of your finest ice cream for my friend. Chocolate, I think."

  Cottontail felt the girl's temptation. She believed she shouldn't stay, but she longed for that ice cream. The man was very good at managing people. “Mr. Bennington, you don't owe me anything! I just came to talk to you."

  The man nodded to the maitre d'. “Fetch it.” Then, to Rowan: “I understand that. And I told you whom to contact. Now you must pay for that information."

  "Pay?” she asked blankly.

  "Information is as valuable as substance. You owe me."

  "But—"

  "One visit. Stay and chat until you're done with your ice cream. Then you are through."

  Cottontail saw that the man truly missed his granddaughter, whom he seldom saw, and wanted the company of a girl like her. “Do it,” he urged Rowan.

  She yielded. “Okay."

  The ice cream arrived at the same time as the man's main course, so they ate together. The ice cream was really good, the best she had ever tasted; Mr. Bennington truly had ordered the finest. They chatted amicably about this and that, and it was surprisingly pleasant. “He's a nice man,” she thought to Cottontail. “I thought he'd be horrible."

  Cottontail knew that the man was neither nice nor horrible; he simple worked to get what he wanted, whether that was a big mall or the brief attention of a girl who reminded him of his absent granddaughter. But there seemed to be no harm in this association, and he felt the pleasure of the ice cream. It made him hungry for a green garden; it had been long since he had eaten.

  "Why do you wish to save that particular sinkhole?” Mr. Bennington asked.

  "You can't tell him the truth,” Cottontail thought.

  "I know.” Then she spoke aloud. “It's where I play. There are rabbits there, and tortoises."

  "We are relocating the tortoises."

&
nbsp; "I know. But I don't want them to be ripped from their homes the way I was."

  The man gazed at her a moment with a certain understanding. More of his mind was coming through; he was eerily smart. Then he shifted the subject somewhat. “You don't wish there to be a tort for your tortoises."

  "Tort?"

  "That is a wrongful act, not a breach of contract, that results in injury to another person. You feel the mall would harm your tortoises, so you seek redress."

  "That's it!” she exclaimed. “Tort reform!"

  He smiled. “The legal concept is not quite what you may believe. But it will do for a pun: tortoise reform."

  "I guess.” The thought of Gopher being reformed made her smile.

  Mr. Bennington clarified the concept of tort reform, but it was well beyond Cottontail's power to comprehend. It was something about limiting the liability of corporations. Cottontail let that be and concentrated on maintaining the connection between Rowan and the man.

  In due course, as Rowan was finishing her ice cream, the man's cell phone beeped. “I don't want to eavesdrop,” Rowan said quickly, standing. Mr. Bennington nodded as he brought out the phone and answered. He was a businessman, and this was business.

  "That turned out to be fun,” Rowan thought as they returned to her bicycle. “And it's a lesson to me not to pre-judge people. I really had that man figured wrong."

  "I enhanced his feeling for you,” Cottontail explained. “But then I couldn't turn it off."

  "Oho! So that why he got so friendly after I barged in! I should have known. But how could you do it, if he's not telepathic?"

  "I could read some of his mind, because I was close and his thoughts were strong, and I could strengthen his feeling. That was all."

  "So it is possible to get into the minds of humans, a little. I can't do it, but you can."

  "You are learning. You tried to make of him think of his granddaughter by the way you dressed, but you did it a little with your mind as well. The two of us together made it work."

  They reached the bicycle. “Now let me got back into decent clothing, and we'll go home.” She lifted the other clothing out of the basket and looked around. “But where can I change?"