Alfie and Ajax were certainly changing, as T had observed. Inducing the Builder’s Dog to walk on duckweed was almost saying that which was not, and without Mrs Fox’s kind-hearted motive. Indeed motivation and emotions had bubbled up more and more frequently for the dogs as well as for T, frustrated in his mission to California.
On his return to Kent he was philosophical about it. ‘Not worth losing sleep over it. Let’s get back to Margate and regroup.’
For the dogs – or pseudo dogs – life was exhausting. People wanted to touch them, dogs wanted to chase them, cats hissed and spat. A far cry from the Ossyrian way of life, in atmospherically controlled dwelling pods, eating a scientifically designed diet, performing the social protocols according to seasons no-one had experienced since the Great Descent to the SubOceanic Halls and Pods.
Surface life on earth was painful and joyful in ways unknown in the plankton-lit world of Ossyria but how could they explain this to their co-citizens? How to describe an ache that was not a result of injury? The taste of forbidden food – and why was it forbidden? ‘A little of what you fancy does you good!’ Mrs Fox had said. The sensation of physical contact – at first unsettling, then craved. Alfie had grown to seek out Abel’s touch, and had taught Abel to be gentle by relaxing himself and thinking in tune with the little boy. There was little room for such fellow-feeling in the Pods, designed in long-ago desperate times for survival, not thriving. Why were all three less than anxious to return to their lives as Director, Droghmirrxz and Bogmerlg?
This follow-up report would be much more difficult to write than their first two had been.