Countess Arugula and the Road Kill Crisis

Countess Arugula, adjusting the velvet collar of her midnight gown, opens her front door with a sigh. "Halloween," she mutters, the name tasting like ash on her ancient tongue. It wasn't her favorite holiday. "Too many pretenders having a laugh at the expense of the supernaturally predisposed."

Her disapproval wasn't just aesthetic. Even forgetting last year's dreadful incident with the blood oranges (she still shivers thinking of the creepy intentions of whoever left them at her doorstep), Halloween itself has soured over the centuries. 

Where were the Samhain sacrifices and the graveyard incantations filling the air with appropriate dread and inspire her nighttime prowling. Nowadays, it was all childish laughter and indulgences in corn syrup laced goodies. Seriously, the high levels of insulin in human veins turned much of November into a truly downer blood-sucking experience.

Sensing her brooding mood from the porch rafters, her bat companion, What's On, glided down and landed gently in her shiny, auburn curls. He mewed a demure "What's on?" and made a warm little nest in her hair, patient to a fault in hopes of the spoils of the evening's hunt.

"Poor little guy. You must be nearly twenty now," Arugula cooed, her quartz face softening momentarily to granite. "Sweet think, I remember it like yesterday when I found you abandoned on my stoop. You just rest. I'm sure there will be some spare flesh for you tonight."

Feeling a sudden need for motion, the Countess leaped ten feet up and grabbed a prominent oak branch. Swinging forward, she tucked into a somersault and catapulted herself to the front walkway. Landing silent as a whisper on the concrete path, she saw the evening's main course laid out before her. In all likelihood, it was the result of a mortal's reckless driving in a rush to attend a masquerade party.

Perfect. No chance this creature's blood was tainted with sugar and spice. Without further delay she sank her teeth into the animal's neck. She sensed fear in the creature's spasms as she drained its lifeforce. As her psychic bond with the deer encouraged peace where there was fear, it occurred to her that her actions could actually bring good to the world. She wasn't killing for herself tonight; this was at least partially unselfish act. 

After a few minutes she rose to breathe deeply of the night. What's On fell from his perch in her hair to lick the oozing blood from the deceased being. The countess was only halfway through her feeding, but best to allow her familiar its fill as well.

It was then a cheerful rumble of paws 

"Evening, Countess! Got a good one there, I see!"

It was Smiles McDog, the local werewolf, and self-professed vegan.

"Smiles," she nodded curtly. "I know you usually get first dibs on roadkill. Will you forgive my trespass, so to speak." 

"Tis the first time I've seen you feasting on the dead, Arugula. Growing some scruples, finally?" Smiles chuckled, scratching his muzzle.

"Indeed," Arugula sighed, then brightened. "This creature needed a little assistance to find her path to peace. There was something stirring about lending a hand to ease the fear in dying." 

Smiles crouching just out of the countess's reach, retorted, "There is no reason we can't be ethical creatures. I still cringe at the fact that it took me so long to see the light. Indoctrination dies hard."

"I will give it some thought. Perhaps I can help those who are faced with a harrowing death move forward, if they have the need."

"Reason and compassion lie at the heart of ethics. If we recognize the consent of other conscious creatures, then there is hope yet, even for our immortal kind."

"Anyways, given the full moon is still a week away, there is no reason not to share. Come on What's On, let's see if we can find some other consenting victims, no...consenting souls."

As Countess Arugula floats in a gentle spiral up into sky, Smiles sniffs the carcass and hefts it over his hairy shoulder and whispers to himself as much as to the deer's lingering essence.

"Come on, you poor creature, even though your consciousness is no longer, there is no reason I can't feast on your flesh in private, where both of us can enjoy a modicum of dignity."

States of Change Chapter 44: Equality (Wyoming)

 

States of Change is an ongoing work of serial fiction.

The speculative story-line seeks to inspire thought on ethics, culture and our planet's future.

The year is 2076, decades after Oosa's defederalization. 

Fifty independent States have forged unique societies from 

revolutionary technology and ideology

All Sandeep can hear is the muffled whine of the thorium powered snow-wolf. He hugs Silvia's midsection as she navigates toward the distant maw of the Tetons. Bison by the score wander scattered across the expansive snowscape filigreed with frosted pines. The setting sunlight sparkles as the snow-wolf jets through sporadic fumarole fog.

And it is fucking cold! thinks Sandeep.

 His air-gel thermals and heated seat take the edge off the chill, but each breath reminds him it is fifteen below all around him.  Add to that his dread at the upcoming night together at the Faithful Lodge. The tenth anniversary of his romantic binding to Silvia ought to be joyful. Yet the thought of recent silences between them consumes him.

A soft chime resonates in Sandeep's ear, coming through his visAR.

"Status Check, Sandeep. Your physiological markers indicate high emotional distress overlaid with anticipation. Your thoughts seem to be prioritizing the emotional 'cost' of your anniversary over its 'value.' Care to articulate the source of this inner dissonance?"

Sandeep subtly taps the base of his helmet twice—the code for a private channel reply. "It's the silence, Zen. It feels like we're just two people sharing expenses to stay stave off the chill of aging alone. This winter adventure was supposed to rekindle a youthful fire, but why am I just feeling empty dread?"

"Dread can be a response to an expected negative outcome. Consider the data: Do the silent moments have the potential to build a contented tranquility, or are they becoming voids where difficult conversations are being avoided? As a level three counseling construct I'm required to highlight non-confrontational real-time therapy can itself lead to overly high expectations in the human relationships."

"Ironic, I know. I just feel safer sharing my inner thoughts with you. Still, I'll give it some thought. I just wish things were naturally at ease between Silvia and I."

The lodge comes into view through the thin fog—a hulking timber structure glowing warmly against the twilight. Silvia slows the snow-wolf, bringing them gently up to the covered porch. As she cuts the engine, the sudden quiet seems to amplify the void within Sandeep.

Silvia turns and gives him a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "We made it, Sandy. Ten hours of adventure, ten years of togetherness."

"Yeah. Ten years," he echoes, the phrase feeling less like a celebration and more like a sentence. 

Inside, the fire is roaring. As they sit across from each other at the heavy wood table in the bar, Silvia starts talking about retrofitting the hydro-filtration system at their urban flat—all projects, maintenance, and logistics.

"Observation: Silvia is engaging in 'Task Talk'—a strategy to avoid emotional intimacy. This pattern aligns with your previous reports of emotional compartmentalization. Question: Does this behavior meet your core need for connection?"

Sandeep watches the fire dance in her eyes, eyes that no longer seem to hold a the spark of reckless adventure. He realizes the silences were only empty because he wasn't taking the initiative to shift them elsewhere. 

He sets down his cider mug. "Silvia," he starts, his voice steady.

She stopped mid-sentence. "Yes?"

"We need to talk less about home maintenance and more about our connection." he gestures with a hand wave between them. "I had a chat with Zen while we were riding today."

"Damn, are you going to let IT dominate our partnership. I've said it before...if a relationship can't make it without cloud therapy, then perhaps it shouldn't make it at all."

"And for once I agree with you, well except Zen is a good soundboard for me. In fact, because of that chat, I realize I need to ditch the real-time therapy so I can be more present when we're together."

Silvia’s guarded look cracks, and she laughs out loud. "That is too funny, so are you saying you're going to break up with your buddy Zen?"

The Zen construct transmits "Is that what you're saying, Sandeep. Are we breaking up?"

Sandeep rolls his eyes and taps his visAR to let Silvia know Zen was listening in.

"In a nutshell, yes. I'm going to revert to thirty minute sessions with Zen once a week, if you will join me in them, so we can build our relationship stronger."

Silvia tilts her head. "Well I think I can live with that. anything to get that ghost out of your head all the time. How about we play a game, Sandy. A little fireside Go, perhaps."

"Yeah, sure."

Zen whispers to Sandeep, "Your line of action surprises me, but I actually think it'll be good for you both shifting to intermittent joint sessions. I see you both have next Friday at 7pm open. Will that be suitable."

"Zen wants to know if 7pm next Friday works?"

"Yes Zen it works...now goodnight and let us humans wallow in our imperfection for a bit."

Silvia rolls out the Go board and the stones clatter across the table, a few falling to the floor.

"Ten years and I'm still such a klutz at times," laughs Silvia.

Sandeep joins in the laughter reaching down to pick up the pieces.