Chapter XI: The Mending
The first three days of the next week go by slowly. When I ask Denton about it, he tells me that suicides happen, but they're not very common. And it's always more-or-less the same. The mammal realizes that this is true freedom. And that Zootopia is a nightmare of being caged. You always know this, somewhere in the back of your mind, but to be so forcefully reminded...
It turns out that - on rare occasions, Doctor Jefferson has to pull a little more than just your bio. And in Melissa's case, that meant poring over her orphanage papers until he'd found mention of exactly what she'd wanted for her funeral. Which is how he knew about the funeral pyre. She didn't want her body somehow making its way back into the Zootopia system. Even as soil. A not particularly surprising outlook, given everything that had happened to her.
Most of the other mammals seem to recognize what happened as grave. And they understand exactly the price Melissa paid, but life has a way of carrying on. And, pretty soon almost everyone has made the jump from, "that was truly sad" to "we accept that it happened." Everyone except Randall, Bartholomew and myself. I see shadows of Melissa in everything for those first three days. I suppose Bartholomew must, too, because he doesn't go near the piano. I think he's afraid that whatever he plays will be so depressing that his sadness will spread right back to everyone else. Like an infection vector.
It has an...odd effect on Randall. A weirdly sobering one. On that third day, he gets Doctor Jefferson and I to join him in his little house - the house that Sanctuary has offered him. He sits us down at the dinner table. Pulls out bottle after bottle after bottle of little amber pills.
"I know you bought me here when I was high. And I know you didn't take these away from me, because you couldn't figure out if I actually needed them or not. They're such a crazy mixture of chemical compounds that there's no good way to reverse engineer any of what's in this, but I can tell you some of it. And I can tell you that anyone coming here with these drugs probably doesn't need them at all. These are just mood suppressors. Their only job is to make sure that a predator doesn't get off-leash. And they do that by leaving you an empty void. With these, you don't have to fear the collar. Or anything at all. Because you don't get happy or sad or violent or gentle. You just are. In fact..." he looks at these like he's seeing them for the first time. "...they're almost worse than the collar. In a way." And then he looks kind of hunted. "This - if you ever reverse engineer it - it must never, ever fall into Zootopia's hands."
Doctor Jefferson nods. "It will not. I expect you have summonsed us for more than a briefing."
At this, the large wolf gets up. "I've been thinking about Melissa. A lot," he says. This is true. He hasn't attended breakfast, lunch or supper for the last two and a half days. And while I know he's not one for the public, I have seen him out on the beach sometimes, throwing stones.
"I don't like what happens to us. I don't like the collar system. I don't like the caste system. I don't like the way all of this cuts us off from paths we've chosen," he says all of this emphatically, meaning every word, "but I don't see a way out. And I'm not sure that...turning myself into a vegetable is working all that well. I can't really help you if I'm like that," he nods to the good Doctor. "What happened to Melissa was...is terrible. And I thought I wanted to...not feel it." He holds up one bottle. "But I realized that if I did that, I'd be sending myself to the same place she went to." And for the first time, he shows true emotion. "My father is still...out there, somewhere. And I'd like to find him."
"Please let me help," Doctor Jefferson says.
Randall stares down at the bottle of pills and then at the doctor. And down at the pills again. He's choosing. I can see it in his eyes. Down one path, he might find his father and might be in a place where that matters. In another...I'm sure Doctor Jefferson will do his level best to find Randall's Dad, but...it might not matter at all.
Finally, looking into Doctor Jefferson's eyes, he makes the choice.
We follow him into the bathroom as he tips the seat up. Black tube cape is unscrewed. Big paw holding tightly around the orange tube. There's a second where I'm not sure if he can go through with his choice, but then he does, tipping the whole lot down into the water. Each little, white bit of death making a plop as it hits the water. They float there for a second and then, in slow motion, they begin to drift down to the bottom of the toilet. Heavy paw reaches up to flush and again - he's staring into the water. Staring into the abyss. I don't know what he sees there, but it must disgust him, because his face turns ugly. Snarling. And that's all it takes. The pills are gone.
"Take the rest," he says. "Figure them out."
He marches out the house, down the path and off to the beach.
