Author Note: This is a look at an earlier Zootopia, roughly 100-150 years before the film. While the city itself has long been establish as a place where diverse species gather, it is not like the Zootopia we know. While certain districts exist, it is only now that city leaders and community developers are exploring the creation of climate-controlled habitats. This massive undertaking has forced Zootopia to recruit scores of builders and laborers, mostly internationally, into the city to manage the workload. In a world much like the turn of the 20th century, this story explores many of the themes occurring at that time; immigration, class structure, and poverty. Hope you enjoy the story! - Anywhere You Go
The bull kept his eyes firmly on the gangplank in front of him, carefully choosing every step. Even though the shipped had been docked for most of the morning, awaiting customs clearance to disembark its passengers, the rolling of the ocean waves still affected the bull. Reaching the end of the plank, the traveler took a deep breath and stepped onto the dock. A muskrat in a dark blue uniform was checking everyone's papers as they unloaded onto the docks.
"Immigration is to your left, fourth building down," the muskrat said slowly, enunciating every word.
The bull just grunted in response, and began walking in that direction.
"Stupid ox," he heard the muskrat mutter, "Probably a steer." Glancing back, the bull saw the muskrat glaring at him as he turned to the next passenger. Deciding it wasn't worth the effort, the bull turned back to the building looming in front of him, determined to find the right office.
The sheer number and diversity of the mammals around the bull was enough to overwhelm anyone. Oh, there were a fair number of cattle, interspersed with some working dogs, but there were plenty more exotic creatures. A small family of elephants passed by, dwarfing the bull, which was something that had never happened before in his life. A small group of camels, their heads wrapped in some sort of gauzy cloth, passed by, and—Wait, was that a lion?! The bull just about bolted into the nearest alley.
Stay calm, stay calm, he thought to himself, Don't be such a bumpkin! No one here is going to eat you, that's all hilltalk.
Indeed, the lion passed him by with the barest of glances. Taking a deep breath, the bull continued on towards his building. He need not have worried about missing it, the façade sported an enormous, carved wooden sign, with the words "Immigration Office". The bull reached to open the door, pausing with his hoof on knob.
"George, wait for me! George!" The young bull raced to catch up with his older cousin. "George, you wasn't going to leave me there, was you George?"
George, though not much into adolescence himself, looked down at his cousin. The young bull's horns were just starting to achieve a significant size, and he stood just past the older bull's shoulder.
He ain't so little anymore, is he? "Now Tom, would I ever leave you alone in that cave? Who knows, the knockers or fairies might get ya!" With that last bit, George reached out and grabbed Tom, causing him to yelp and jump away.
"Ain't funny, George, that ain't funny!" The bull glowered at his cousin as the older one doubled up with laughter. "Aunt Millie wouldn't like to hear that you been picking at me." That shut George right up.
Ever since that calf came to live with us, Mum has always babied him. He sighed. But someone has to, I guess.
"Alright, Tom, I'm sorry. Don't tell Mum, ok?" George glanced over at Tom, who still wore a sullen expression on his face, but seemed to have calmed down a bit. George sighed and turned back to the road. That little calf –He's not so little, George, stop thinking of him that way- lost his whole world nearly a year ago. Tom had been out doing some evening chores around the garden, when there was a commotion back at the house. He'd rushed around their barn only to find the entire house engulfed in flames. Neighbors from the village had already started showing up, but the water brigade of mostly cattle and goats hadn't been enough. To this day, no one was sure what exactly had caused the fire that killed William Oxeley, his wife Mary and their daughter, just about the daintiest little calf you'd ever seen, Alice.
George's da, Walter, had been the first to discover the remains of Tom's family in the ruins. Da was great bull, but didn't always consider the impact of his actions on other mammals, so Tom saw most of the excavation efforts until Mum showed up to bring him home. George hadn't been allowed to help with the fire-fighting, instead he had been charged with setting up a bed for Tom and keeping an eye on him. Looking out for Tom had been something he had done ever since.
The two bulls continued down the dirt path into the village. Herdshire, the largest town in the county, boasted some fifteen-hundred souls, mostly cattle and sheep, but with a smattering of goats, beavers, and the occasional lynx or wolf. Nearly all the folk in town were farmers; wheat and barley being the primary crop sources, but root vegetables and some beans made their way into the rotations. The Woolsons and Fishers operated the only fruit orchards in Herdshire, but the Oxeley farm was the largest crop producer. At least, they were until last year.
George knew that losing his uncle, as well as taking in Tom, had done quite a number on his family's farm. Of the two brothers, Walter had always been more of the salesman, but it was William who really had the gift for farming. He seemed to have a sixth sense for what was going on in his fields, which ones needed rotated and which needed to lay fallow a season or two. He inspired his work hands to get out in the fields with him, putting in long hard hours, but truly enjoying the work. He had been a bull of few words, and no great intellect, but he was genuinely liked and respected by those who knew him. Not that Walter was disliked, but he was a harsh and taciturn bull. There had been many a night George had lain awake wishing that William had been his da instead, though he would never admit that to anyone.
"George?"
The voice, cracking a bit at the end, brought him out of his reverie. George didn't have any true siblings, and he and Tom had always been close. Now, anyone who didn't know different, which weren't many in a place like Herdshire where everyone knew everyone, would think they were blood brothers. Tom's long face was turned towards George, and even though he was just a head shorter, in that moment the young bull looked like he should still be trailing along with his mother. Which he should be, no matter his age. They should all still be here, thought George.
"Sorry Tom, was just thinking. What were you saying?" The young bull rolled his eyes.
"I was asking if you had ever thought about leaving."
George stopped in his tracks. Though the main street through Herdshire wasn't all that busy, there were enough mammals around that he caused a few change their course, shooting him disapproving looks as they quickly sidestepped to avoid bumping into him and his cousin.
"Leave? Leave where? You mean move out, set up my own farm? Of course I do Tom! What, you think I'd want to start a family with Mum and Da always hovering around? Ha, that's quite a thought!" The chortle that escaped his mouth seemed to annoy Tom. Something hardened in the bull's face.
"No, not just moving out. I mean really leave, get out of Herdshire. Perhaps head up to Hoofdon, or even across the ocean. You know, I heard they was needing workers in that city over there, that Zootopia? I heard that cattle don't have to worry over there, wolves is banned, and prey live like kings! Even the lowest of 'em has got those electric lights, and plumbing! Stop it George, don't you laugh, it's all true!" As Tom had been talking, George's guffaws quickly turned into outright luaghter, to the point where the bull was straining to catch his breath.
"Ah, Tom, you're quite the joker! Wherever did you hear stories like that? Zootopia indeed! It's just a city of jumped up mammals thinking they got a better way than us hard-working folk, and the criminals that know how to work them."
"It is not! Emmabeth's da was called up to the hospital over in Cowbridge to help with some surgery, and they hear all sorts of stories from across the sea! Well, I guess they was really worried about all the young mammals setting sail, 'cause there was folk from Zootopia recruiting laborers for some big projects they're working on in the city. Emmabeth didn't know what they was, only she heard her da telling her mum that it sounds like nothing else anybody's ever seen. That they already got this place where prey don't have to worry about predators, and now it's going to be like home for everybody. She said they was growing mountains and jungles there. Just think about it George, growing a mountain!" Tom's eyes were wide and shining as he imagined it. George could almost see the thoughts and ideas sprouting out of the young bull's ears.
George just shook his head. "That sounds great, but it can't happen Tom. There's no way they can be working on something like that. Growing a mountain," he snorted. "The only thing they'll be growing is hungry bellies and empty promises."
"But George-"
"Don't but George me, Tom! Them Zootopia folk are nothing but scoundrels, filling young bulls like you's heads full of pretty lies and luring you away from good places. What would Mum say if you left, after all she's done for you? You thinking we ain't good enough for some young bull with his head in the clouds?! It ain't nothing but hilltalk, always hidden away and out of sight. Maybe Zootopia's safe for prey, maybe they do get along with predators, but it's all smoke and flame how good it is. You promise me now Tom that you won't go thinking too much about this Zootopia? Its fine to make play and dream when you're little, but someday you gotta grow up and take responsibility. Don't let those dreams stop you from doing what's right. You promise me, ok?"
The young bull was near tears, and it took him a moment to choke out the words in near whisper.
"I promise." George clapped him on the back, a little too hard, knocking Tom forward a step or two. George loved his cousin more than almost anything, but he was a Herdshire bull through and through. Those city folk, whether from Hoofdon or this Zootopia, were all uppity good-for-nothings just trying to take away all the young folk from the farms.
"That's right! You and me, we'll bring the farm back to how it used to be! We'll settle up here in Herdshire, just like our da's and granda's. We'll find some nice cows, and have lots of strong bulls to help out in the fields. But I wouldn't go for that Emmabeth, she's got some strange ideas. Probably comes from her da; surgeons are strange. Who wants to see what someone's insides look like? Urgh!" George could tell he wasn't really cheering Tom up. "Come on, Tom. I think I heard Mum say she was making cobbler for after supper."
As George turned and started walking towards the lane that lead out of town towards the farm, Tom looked after him a moment. He wiped his eyes, and started to follow. But under his breath, he muttered too low for George to hear.
"I am going to Zootopia someday. It ain't no dream, its what's right. I hope you'll still love me when I go, George."
The door opened easily, not even creaking on its hinges. The bull stepped into a room that, while not overly crowded, still had plenty of mammals standing in lines waiting to speak to the mammals at the table. They seemed to be mostly beavers and muskrats, with the occasional deer. The bull found the line for the most out of the way table and joined it, stepping in behind shaggy pony. The pony turned towards the bull, showing an honest looking face and a mouth opening to speak. But spying the bull's demeanor, he quickly turned back and stared fixedly ahead until it was his turn at the table.
As the pony stepped up, the bull began having some second thoughts. Was this what he really wanted? Could he just get back on the boat and head home? Just as he was starting to panic, a sharp voice called out.
"You sir! The bull, you're next!"
Shaken out of his thoughts, the bull took several steps forward to the table, moving like a puppet. There was a stag seated on the other side, with spectacles, and stern but fair looking face. "Papers please," he said with a no nonsense tone. The bull handed him the few sheets and waited a moment.
"Right, so your one of those laborers for the Hightower project. The next ferry across the bay leaves in two hours, you'll want to be on that one. There's a waiting dock for you guys, look for the red post. From there, they will escort you to your assigned tenements. Not all newcomers are as fortunate as you are, they come with no work or housing arranged. Crazy folk if you ask me. Not like you, you guys all seem to have a plan from here. Doing it the right way. Here are your papers back, just head on through the door to the left." As the bull took the documents and started towards the door, the deer called out to him.
"Oh, one last thing. Mr. Thomas Oxeley, welcome to Zootopia."