Ed Fortune

Sydney hated having to work weekends, but the Department of the Environment had tight deadlines, and no else would do it. Sydney was always doing the things no one else wanted to do. Part of the problem was that they were short-staffed. Sydney had learned not to describe the problem in those terms, mention the word “short” and someone would snigger to themselves about his stature. At 4 foot nothing, he was the shortest adult in the building and people’s tendency to treat him like some sort of mascot was irritating in the extreme. He twitched at the thought of it, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

The filing cabinet had become over-filled long ago, and the teetering stack of paperwork was so tall that Sydney had to use the extra long step-ladder. Stretching across to get that vital file, he over reached and lost his balance, causing a small avalanche of paperwork to flood the tiny office. Sydney tumbled gracefully, avoiding the worst of the disaster. As he stood amongst the debris, he looked down and uttered the mildest of oaths in frustration. In the storm of paperwork, the battered old transistor radio had become dislodged again, and had smashed against the floor, breaking into many pieces.

Ignoring the mess of paperwork for the time being, Sydney picked up the broken device with great care, dutifully sweeping up the broken pieces into his arms. Plonking the bits on his desk, he set to work; the radio was an old friend, having been brought back to life many times thanks to Sydney’s diligence, hard work and technical know-how. In a matter of minutes, it was whole again, and taking a moment to take a deep breath, Sydney turned it on.

The radio leant a tinny quality to the music it played, but it was still good. An old tune blurted out, and the song was one that Sydney was not expecting. It was a novelty song, and it took Sydney back a great many years. Remember, it said, remember. And in Sydney’s mind, a great flood of suppressed memories came flooding back.

He recalled the days, so many years ago, when the bright eyed men in the red coats came for his home. They came with shovels and hounds, and they didn’t seem to care that he and his brothers where people, with a language, a culture and loved ones. The strange men only saw the fur and the long noses. They wanted something to hunt and his kind were simply in the way. It was illegal, of course, but no one much cared. In desperation, his Uncle had gathered the clan around him, and begun to read the words from an ancient book, one long ago discarded from the libraries of man.

Sydney remembered; he recalled how his paws turned into hands and how his legs became slightly longer. He could still see the look on the faces of his brothers and sisters as they all transformed. He remembered the task he was set; to change the world, carefully and steadily, to make mankind care more about where he stood. And then, and only then, he and his kind could return to the world.