Evolution of Man
By Avi Melman


   Some were going to oppose.  The concept was preposterous; the
experiment proposal outrageous.  But I had my theories, and I was not
ready to be influenced by the opinions of the Academy Science Research
Counsel.  The facility was there; they knew they had the capacity for
research on this level, but were most likely afraid of my success.  Young
minds conceive young ideas; old minds cannot bend to conform.  They will
not see it right away, and will quell a bubbling curiousity.  But I will
present it to them anyway, and they will see, if not now, then later.

	A warm feeling of pride spread over me, and it made my fur stand on end.
 Walking down the path to the main Academy building, where the Counsel
would contrive either with me or against me.  I was not a graduate
student, to be reckoned with so easily.  Granted, I was new to my
research position, but I surely had some clout.  That pride suddenly meant
less to me than it should have, and it subsided, giving way to an unsure,
nervous feeling.  My mouth became dry, and I walked over to the fountain
in the main courtyard, and lapped up some of the refreshing water.  This
was like the Academy's watering hole; I think the sculptor added the
fancy curves just to make it more pleasant to drink from.  I could smell
the mixture of wild grasses and maples whose scents the wind carried over
from the park to the south.  That crisp wind also carried other familiar
scents; friends and colleagues sitting in the park during their breaks. 
The park was an important place for the Academy.  It was a place of rest,
of play, of love.  Many a pup, kit and cub had been conceived in that
park.  I think my father told me that I had been conceived in that very
park, but who can keep track?  Who DOES keep track?  I was reminiscing,
and I didn't want to.  "Eye on the prize..." I told myself, and passed
under the archway of the main Academy building.

	The main building was designed to look majestic, ominous.  From the high
ceiling to the clay pillars in the center of the lobby, the main building
of the Academy was a shrine and monument to research and learning.  The
first corridor on my left led me to the meeting room, and I pulled the
handle next to the heavy door, so it would open.  The Counsel was in
session, and waiting for me, it seemed.  As I sat back comfortably on my
haunches, my proposal folder was being passed forward to Dean Ageilia, who 
ran the counsel of 15 animals.  I was the only fox in the room, and it gave 
me a feeling of being alone against the might of the counsel, which was  
appropriate.  I became less comfortable, and the signs were apparent: I
was shifting my body weight about nervously, as if I was getting ready to
run.  After reading my papers, Dean Ageilia looked down at me from his   
higher position.  

	"Professor Marrtal, are you expecting the counsel to approve this
experiment?"

	Be confident.  "Yes."

	"Are you aware that if this experiment fails, it will damage the
reputation of this Academy?"

	Be considerate.  "Yes."

	"This will require some serious thought on the part of this Counsel. 
When this Counsel has reviewed the theories, papers, and guidelines of
your experiment, and reached a conclusion, you will be called in again to
learn of the decision.  Our decision is FINAL.  Thank you, Professor
Marrtal."

	Be patient.  I had observed two new moons from the window of my lab
before I again heard from the Counsel.  To my surprise, I was asked to
approve a lab layout.  Granted, many of the Counsel members did not
appear too content at the decision, but it passed, somehow.  My second
litter of kits had left home by the time the lab was completed.  It was
wonderful, designed exactly to my specifications.  I immediately settled
into it, and began work on my research.

	The lab, as per my equipment needs, contained an incubation chamber, a
storage cabinet stocked with biological research amenities, and a
"Darashi Chamber", which was on promised to us from the North University
upon its completion.  Actually, the Darashi Chamber was the center of my 
experiment.  It was a pioneering achievement in the field of genetics, or
what we know as "identity biology."  My experiment was to alter the
"identity" of a cell, and then to culture-grow it.  This was why they
were so apprehensive.  But my goals were set, and my procedures carved
out for me.  I took a few days to soak up the ambience, and "mark my
territory", as it were.  It meant working late, but it didn't bother me
all that much.  I was a little bit worried about how my mate, Tella,
would fare with my new schedule, but she was understanding and loving. 
It made me feel all the more guilty, and this guilt made me all the more
determined.  With her tenderness, she had a way of bringing out my
surpressed "other self", a warmer side to my scientific being, which only
my family could call upon.  I would often watch the sun being forced down 
by the moon, fighting back with a rich arsenal of reds and oranges, which 
melted in with the black of the approaching night to form deep twilight  
tones.  My research continued as a daily ritual; I'd work from scorching 
summer day, to soothing night.  And then, I'd return home, eat dinner, and 
rest until the next day.

	The day I was re-calibrating the Darashi Chamber was the day I
discovered the new specimen.  I had been spending the day reviewing data
tables, to see if I could isolate the correct setting for the chamber,
and it was getting on into the early evening.  I had correlated the data,
and calculated a calibration error of -5.3 Thira.  With this data, I
began to reset the dials on the Darashi Chamber.  I opened the sample
compartment, and made sure there was no sample in the dish.  However, upon 
my closing of the door, the Darashi Chamber clicked on, and began
vibrating.  I looked back, and saw that some of the earthenware pieces
were shaking on the table, and the glassware was resonating.  When I
tried to turn it off, I received an shock, and fell back onto
my haunches.  I was not sure what to do, and I ran back to grab my
paperwork.  I started rummaging through them, to see if I could find out
what was going on, but the papers provided me with little if any comfort.
 
	When the Darashi Chamber finally shut down, I cautiously walked to it,
apprehensive about this little incident, which would probably be recorded
in my book as a "calibration test", and nothing more.   A few of the less
stable chemical mixtures on the table gave off a very light, yet noticable
foul odor.  When I saw the latch to the chamber door open, I became defensive;
fur raised, teeth bared, ears back.  There was something in the chamber,
something alive, as I could hear breathing.  Something fleshy gripped the
outside of the chamber as a brace, and although I couldn't see what was
inside just yet, I grabbed a paw-scalpel from the equipment cabinet. 
When it came into full view, I nearly dropped the scalpel.  Had the
Darashi Chamber created this thing?  I held it at bay with my weapon of  
choice.  It was a hideous living organism with no fur on it, and         
grotesquely deformed legs.  There was a long staring match, and I decided 
that, after a while, I could not stand to view it anymore.  I couldn't   
let anyone see this "calibration error"; I had to send it back from
wherever the Darashi Chamber brought it from, if it had not conjured it
up, but it was getting late.  My notes did not explain the incident, and 
I could not reverse it without that knowledge.  The thing let out some   
loud noises, screeching and calling out something alien to me.  I really 
didn't want to leave it in my lab overnight.  

	I sniffed at it for a while.  It was patient with my query, and seemed
to try to remain calm.  Perhaps it didn't want to provoke me, but I was
equally apprehensive.  My observations led me to believe that it was
male.  He reached his hand over to me, and I became defensive, but all he
did was scratch me behind my left ear...an odd response on his part, and
an odd feeling on my part.  It was a soothing feeling, but it was not
going to remove my worries.  I was going to make the ASSUMPTION that he
was not a malevolent being, though I was not going to put my full trust
in him, not just yet.  But how to get him home?  He had to be covered up
with something, to conceal him.  I used several lab smocks to cover
him up with.  I examined my work; now I know why we do not cover
ourselves with anything most of the time.  Or maybe I'm just no tailor. 
He understood my signalling tactics.  I looked at him for a while, then
waved my paw in the direction of the door, and walked out.  He followed
me, sticking close to me, which was good.  It was late, and with so few
others in the lab building, it was not hard to get him outside.  But once
outside, I had the unrequested task of finding the stealthiest path back
to my house.  It was only five minutes by walk, two minutes on all
fours.  The way we took timed us at eighteen minutes.  But, after all the
slinking about, we finally reached home.  

	Then there was the problem of the door.  As in most housing designs, the
 door was built for four-legged entry and exit.  My "project" was not going
 to fit so easily into the door.  When I padded into the door, I was
warmly greeted by my kits, and by Tella, who had woken up from her nap by
the fireplace just recently.  Her nuzzling was a warm feeling to me. 
This house was decorated in the style of a typical fox home, with a small
statue of the fox diety on the dinner mat, and one over the fireplace. 
It was a two room house; we had a sleeping room and an eating room.  We
all heard a sound from outside, and everyone in the house snapped to
attention, listening.  I became nervous, nervous of the reaction.  I had
to soften the blow, so I told Tella that I had brought some of my work
home with me, and that he was outside.

	"Well, tell him to come inside."

	I shook my head, to try and continue the explanation.

	"He's not exactly normal..."

	She eyes me quizzically, cocking her head.  That nervous feeling parched
my throat once again, and I tried to surpress it.  I guessed that I would
have to show her, and I stepped outside for a moment.  I came back in,
and my calibration error crawled in under the door.  The kits ran behind
Tella, yipping and whimpering.  Tella was equally frightened, but then
she started to yell at me.  She yelled at me about bringing diseases in
the home, and strange creatures to boot.  I had to hear her out.  There
was no arguing with this vixen when she started yipping an argument. 
After a lot of coaxing, however, she shook her head, and decided that she
would reluctantly have our guest, who was hunched over so not to bump the
fox-sized ceiling.  With that settled, she set out dinner for us.  The
kits were taught to wait for father, and I felt guilty for letting them
have such a late meal.  He was still hunched in the corner, and I
motioned him over to the dinner mat.  If he did eat anything, I hoped it
was anything similar to what we ate, so he wouldn't starve.  It was the
usual meal, a chicken that Tella had caught and killed in our backyard
coop, and that smell of dinner filled the house with a wonderful aroma
that made one go feral with hunger.  I nodded to Tella, and she offered  
our "guest", who sat crossed-legged, a chicken leg.  He stared at it
for a while, and poked at it.  Tella and I looked at him for a while,    
curiously.  He walked it over to the fire and threw it in.  Tella started 
yelling at me about manners and customs and the like, but I calmed her   
down, and walked over to him.  I tried to make signals to him to show a  
lack of understanding over his actions, but after a while, he pulled out a
chicken leg that was steaming, and he nodded at me, and began to eat it. 
So apparently, he did not want to, or could not eat raw meat.  The
concept of cooking chicken was alien to me.  We never cooked our meat. 
It would lose all of its flavor.  When dinner was over, we all went to
sleep.  He slept by the fire, and Tella, the kits and I went into the
sleeping room, cuddled up warm next to each other.  It was a feeling that
invited sleep.

	A warm beam of sunlight riding up my back from my rump woke me.  I
yawned and stretched, then padded my way over to where I remembered
leaving him.  I was hoping that maybe it was a dream, but there he was. He
was shivering.  I guess the smocks were not good for warmth.  I guess it
was expected of one with no fur.  I nudged him awake slowly, and I
assumed that he also wished this to be a dream.  That morning, we
returned to the lab, and that whole day was spent trying to discover the 
error that brought him to me.  It was a hopeless cause, an accident of   
science for which a solution could not be found so easily.  As the days  
passed, and the cause appeared worthless, I grew tired of the
hand signals, and the like, and hoped that perhaps I could teach him to
speak on his own.  That might help find out what was wrong.  He had
showed signs of intelligence before, and I guessed that it might be
possible to teach him.  If those strange sounds he made were some sort of
language, then it shouldn't be too much of a problem to teach him ours. 
I decided to begin immediately.

	Our language is built mainly on inflections of barks and yips, with some
pronunciation, of what our vocal chords would produce.  This produced
sounds like "tra" and "shi", simple sounds that helped us make the
language complex enough to provide access to more vocabulary
possibilities.  After a while, hearing his sounds, I realized that his
language was even more complex, something I found difficult to
comprehend.  I assume to him, our language was equally complicated.  It
took him almost a moon cycle just to say my name correctly, Sesha
Marrtal.  

	Once he began to understand the methods of pronunciation, the
words came to him a little easier, and word association was an easier
task to me, even if it was still tedious.  He had a basic "tourist"
vocabulary by the time the snow was falling.  It took Tella almost as
long to get used to him.  She stopped talking about him to me when he was
able to understand; she started talking about him behind his back,
instead.  It shocked me when she decided to name him Alare, a derivative
of the fox diety, Alaria.  She was starting to grow fond of him at last. 
She was the one who decided later on that he could not hide anymore, and
she told some friends about him, but only after getting my approval. 
They were a bit scared to see him, but  he was polite in his rough, simple
grammatical structure.  The Academy was a place of learning, and the     
alternative culture circles took to his presence quite readily.  He made 
some friends quickly, and they helped to lessen my tutorial burden, by   
teaching him new words.I was surprised when he started receiving visitors, 
young students who were fascinated with him.  Alare told me then that he 
was enjoying himself quite a bit.  However, I was concerned about the error 
that had brought him here.  I didn't tell him, but I had solved that     
problem, and learned how to reverse it in the time since his arrival.

	I began to feel differently towards him when he showed me a journal
entry he had written.  He told me that he had written it in his own
language, and then asked for help from one of his friends, Yasha, to
translate it.  He would tell her what he was trying to say, and then they
would juggle phrases and words around until they settled on one that
worked.  Foreign pronunciations, she later told me, were really fun,
because she left them the way he had said them.  She was there in the room
when I read it, and it read much smoother than he could have done at his 
level of language comprehension.  I figured that she must have helped him 
a lot.

	"This world is really nice.  Almost unspoiled, despite the populations. 
I never thought being unique could have been such a special thing.  Back in...

	I had a bit of trouble pronouncing this word...

	"...Nah-shoe-wah, we'd go to the mah-ll, and buy cee-deez at the Sa-hm
Guh-deez.  No mah-llz here.  But, then again, I'm unique here.  With so
much attention given to me, I can feel wanted again, and it's a feeling I
welcome.  Sesha has helped me to understand, and brought me here, to
escape.  I owe him a great deal.  Friends here live up to the Wehb-sterrz
definition: loyalty to friendship is paramount here, like a dog's loyalty
to his master.  The culture, the animals...I feel guiilty to call them
animals, and I feel guilty to call them...pee-puhl.  I'll have to think
about that one.  I wonder where that leaves me?"

	Yasha swished her tail about in amusement, assuming that I had found the
entry equally as intriguing as she had.  Indeed I had, and I wondered if
now it wasn't my turn to sit back and take notes from a new teacher.  If
I had any views about Alare before, this shatterred them.  My guilt lay
in the fact that I had up to that point considered him an error, part of
an experiment.  Accepting him originally meant to me merely acknowledging
that he existed.  It was different now, and he had justified, in this
entry which mixed our two worlds, any warming up I had done towards him;
any good feelings I had at that point were to change to a fondness of
Alare, and any joy I had from him being around would turn to love, the
kind a father radiates outwards to his son.

	One day, over dinner, I asked Alare if he would like to go back to his
home.  He yipped in his broken sentences.

	"This is home."

	"You don't want to go back?"

	"No."

	Tella decided to speak up at this point.  "Why?"

	"I have no family there.  I have family here."

	Tella was curious.  "You don't have a family where you come from?"

	"I HAD family.  When I was 97 moon cycles old, mother left home.  She
hated father.  Hated me for loving father.  Father die soon after.  Heart
stopped."

	Tella felt for him.  "You DO have a family here, and I will not leave
you.  I will be your mother now...and always."  Her maternal instinct had
made it hard for her to let go of this "man" (a word he taught me), and
now that he had told her this, she would never let go.  But The time was 
approaching to turn in my final paper on the experiment I had performed.  
Alare was not to be in it.  I would come up with something else to say   
about how he got here.  I would not let the Counsel know about the Darashi 
Chamber, and its freakish ability to either make genetic code, or steal  
it from other places.  That was how Alare came about.  The calibration   
of the Darashi Chamber pulled him in from his world, as a genetic match  
to an empty dish devoid of tissue samples.  But the calculations were    
mine, and as the only thing changed on the chamber from when it was working 
fine, I could not do otherwise but to feel at fault.  But I seemed to have 
made him happier than he was.  He did not want to go, and I would respect 
his wishes.  He told me that he was happy here, yipping and barking, and 
sniffing and the like.  He tended to joke like that.  It was like a new  
identity to him, one that he liked...one that I liked as well.

	I turned in my paper a little apprehensively, checking the scientific
feasibility of my 'excuse' before submitting it.  A week later, the lab 
was taken apart, and I was given a position lecturing on "identity biology" 
at the Academy.