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.