The door opened to Dr. Penny Stacy's apartment, a quaint one bedroom place in Bethesda, Maryland not far from the National Institute of Health campus. The tired and conflicted scientist entered with a sigh, closing the door behind her and placing her purse on a counter. It was a Thursday, and she looked forward to having a couple days off from working at the lab after tomorrow, just a couple days to mull things over. It had been an exhausting week, she needed to catch up on her sleep for one thing.
For another, she needed time to get the screams out of her head.
The apartment was silent, mercifully. She lived alone; her foster parents lived in Baltimore, and her job didn't leave a lot of time for socializing and meeting a guy. She wasn't one to get lonely anyway. She'd grown up alone.
The silence was in such sharp contrast with the lab; in only a few minutes what had been comforting was now grating. She turned on the TV, sat on the couch. The news played but she wasn't listening.
We mustn't let childish empathy get in the way of scientific research.
She tried to drill Nimnul's words into her brain as she absent-mindedly watched the news without paying attention. Animals weren't people. Animals didn't have feelings, didn't talk, didn't think. Except these ones…
"No," she said aloud slouching over the coffee table and resting her forehead in her palms, letting her bangs dangle, "They aren't real…they were never real…"
If animals were able to think like humans, this undid everything. The years of therapy. The years spent dismantling her childhood memories and rebuilding them in a way that made sense to the rest of the world. The years of telling herself that it was all a stupid fantasy. A fantasy cooked up by a kidnapped orphan girl in desperate need of a rescue. Mice don't talk. Mice don't think. They eat, sleep, breed, and die after three years. That's all. But now, all of that was wrong. It could be plainly observed in the lab. Science was now struggling to explain it, but it couldn't be denied.
After only about ten minutes, she turned the TV off again. Nothing seemed to bring her comfort. When she was home, out of the lab, she felt like herself again. She felt human again. She could no longer hide behind her cold, scientist façade. And the guilt was ripping her apart inside. Childish empathy, that's what it was….that's all it was. She was 24 years old now. She knew the difference between animals and humans. Think of all the benefits testing on intelligent animals could bring. She would be helping people with brain injuries and other things.
She settled on that idea. She let out a yawn, thinking perhaps the idea might help her sleep tonight. She was being silly. Her imaginary friends as a child were just that. To hell with the discovery of intelligent rats.
She got up from the couch and walked toward the bathroom, brushing her teeth, removing her makeup and undoing her hair. She went to her bedroom, a modest room with shelves of science books, a large bed, and a vanity. She changed into a nightgown and sat at the vanity, staring at herself for a few moments, brushing her golden hair, which she'd dyed from its original light brown color in High School and had kept it that way since. Slowly she put the brush down, and continued to stare at herself. She disliked herself without makeup on. She felt less adult. For a moment she thought she looked just like she did as a little girl. A homely little orphan.
What makes you think anyone would want a homely little girl like you?
The stinging words of Madame Medusa brought tears to her eyes. She looked to the side her bed, where her old teddy bear sat, something she'd kept with her all this time. She used to talk to that bear all the time, and imagine that it talked back. And it wasn't alive. It was merely a bag of cotton shaped like a bear. So it followed that Rufus the cat from the orphanage, and Bernard and Bianca, must have been in her imagination too, right? Of course they were. They had to be. How else did anything make sense?
But then, she remembered back to how she first "met" them, after Medusa had said those nasty words to her when she was already insecure about her looks (and still was today for that matter). Bernard and Bianca had been there for her when things seemed at their worst. She had cried into her blankets, after another unsuccessful escape attempt, when the two mice simply appeared, standing on her pillow, telling her they'd found her message in a bottle. Bianca's soothing Hungarian accent ran through her head again, and she remembered how they planned her escape from the old steamship, an echo from years past, something she'd tried to bury long ago. Could she really have just made all of that up?
What had she become in that time? What had happened to that little girl, to turn her into this cold woman who now stared back at her in the mirror?
"They're not…they're not real!"
She clenched her fist, taking a nearby snow globe from the top of the desk, and hurling it at the mirror because she could no longer bear to look at herself. The mirror shattered into pieces, as did the snow globe. She stood up, knocking her chair down, huffing, tears rolling down her cheeks and falling onto the broken glass shards. She broke down, throwing herself onto her bed and crying like a little girl again, the walls that she'd spent years fortifying were crumbling like the mirror she'd just broken.
Where were they when the doctors wouldn't believe her? Where were they when her foster parents thought she was crazy? Where were they when she was being bullied at school for believing in them? No one was there to rescue her then. No one.
And if they were real, what did that say about her? A scientist who experiments on sentient animals. A murderer. Killing the ones that had once rescued her.
She had to know if Bernard and Bianca were real if she was to continue her career. If they were imaginary after all, maybe she could keep going. But if they were real…there was no way, no way at all, that she could live with herself if she continued in her profession.
She knew where she might find them, or at least a clue about them, if they were real. This weekend, she would go on a road trip, back to New York again. To the United Nations building. If she could get inside, she'd find her answers there.
The next morning, Gadget, Dale and the furlings climbed to the roof of the library through an air vent, where the Ranger Plane had been parked.
"Sure you're okay to drive, Gadget?" Dale asked.
"I just need to get some coffee, that's all," she quickly replied, "Get in everyone. I'll explain my plan once we take off."
Gadget's eyes were bloodshot and puffy after an all-nighter, tarnishing her natural beauty. But she was as determined as ever to get their journey started, having woken everyone up and rushed them out of the library at exactly 7am, without an explanation. She revved up the engine, and waited for everyone to be seated. Michelle sat in Abigail's lap again. Zipper sat up front in Dale's lap. Once every seatbelt was buckled, she took the plane up.
"Where are we going?" Abigail asked.
"I suppose we'll go get a quick breakfast at a coffee shop, but that's just the start. We're gonna need supplies too for our trip."
"Are we going someplace far?" Michelle asked.
"We're going back towards where you came from," Gadget replied, taking a slip of paper from her pocket and handing it to Dale, who opened it and looked at it curiously.
"Really? Back to Dapplewood?" asked Abigail, surprised.
"Well, not exactly, but close," Gadget replied, turning back to Dale, "Dale, get the map of the east coast out of the glove compartment and make a dot on the coordinates from that paper I just gave you."
The paper had degrees of latitude and longitude jotted onto it, "But I dunno how coordinates work. It's all a bunch of math mumbo jumbo to me."
"Any of you kids know about latitude and longitude?" Gadget asked.
"Cornelius taught us stuff like that when he taught us about map making," Edgar answered.
"Alright maybe you could do it," said Gadget, "Give him a pen too, Dale. You can be our navigator, Edgar."
"I love navigating," Edgar said with a smile.
"We just need to make sure we're following the right highways."
Dale shrugged, handing the map, the paper and a pen to Edgar, who sat directly behind Dale. The map showed the east coast of the United States, marking all the cities and highways, but the furlings had never seen a map of such a huge area before.
"That must be a pretty big lake," Edgar remarked, looking at the ocean, before noticing the latitude and longitude marks on the edges, as the others in the back seat looked on. He followed them until finding the place where the lines intersected, and made a mark on the spot.
"The place you marked, if you did it right, is the Fitzgibbons farm. Ever heard of it?" Gadget asked, "It's around your neighborhood."
"I haven't heard of it," said Abigail, "But before this trip, the furthest we'd ever been was Oakdale meadow."
"Maybe you didn't know what it was. Did you ever notice a red building? A big open field? Lots of cows and chickens, or pigs?"
"Hey, we almost crashed into a red building on our way back, after hitting those black vines in the Flapper Wingamathing and catching fire," Russell said.
"Well then maybe that was it," suggested Gadget.
"What's at this farm anyway?" Dale asked.
"A long time ago, some rats escaped NIMH," Gadget explained, "They had been experimented on and made stronger and more intelligent. The humans wanted to destroy them so they tracked down their hiding place at the farm, but the rats escaped. I think if we can find out where these rats are, they'll help us."
Abigail was intrigued, "So they've done stuff like this before."
"Uh huh, the rats probably left the farm many years ago, but maybe we can meet someone who still lives at the farm and remembers the rats. This is our best lead yet, and our best chance of finding help."
"Besides the Rescue Aid Society?" Dale asked.
"Well yes, these rats have escaped NIMH before, and they're supposed to be super smart, so I think they'd be more of a help."
"I can just imagine how mad Chip would be if he had to get rescued by the Rescue Aid Society," Dale chuckled.
"He'd sure have to swallow his pride," Gadget said with a grin, "But that's not why I decided to try and find these rats instead. I think they may be our best bet."
"The question is, after we rescue everyone from this place, what's to stop those scientists from going after others?" Dale asked.
"That may be the most important question of all," Gadget sighed, "But let's not think about it yet."
"I'm not arguing with that," Dale said, and he flipped on the radio to his favorite rock station, which was playing Rage Against the Machine's "Killing in the Name". The furlings listened on curiously as Dale sang along, "Dah-na na! Now you do what they told ya! Dah-na na! Now you do what they told ya!"
"We'll lose this station eventually," Gadget said to herself, hoping this music wasn't going to corrupt the children.
They arrived soon at the coffee shop, using the roof entrance to make it through the ventilation and into the walls, walking down little flights of stairs to the ground floor where the mouse-run portion of the shop was secretly located.
"Gadget, what's coffee?" Michelle asked as they opened the door at the bottom of the stairwell.
"A hot drink made from ground coffee beans," she answered, "You probably wouldn't like it. But it's what's gonna give me enough energy for this trip."
The smell of coffee was strong as they entered the little café. Dale led them to a booth, as Gadget went to the cashier and told them they had a party of eight for breakfast. They sat at a table, sardined against one another.
Willy sat against the wall, and curiously inspected a salt shaker. Holding his tongue out he sprinkled some salt onto it, but made a face and put his hand over his mouth. Abigail giggled at him.
Gadget came to sit with them, followed by a waitress.
"Hi, how are you all doing today?" the waitress asked, a white-furred mouse in an apron, placing a pot of coffee on the table and then handing each of them a menu.
"Oh, um well I'm doing alright I guess," Willy answered, assuming the waitress actually wanted them to answer her question, "There's some gross white sand in this clear thing though."
"Eh heh…that's salt, dear. Well, I'll be right back in a moment, can I start any of you off with something to drink?"
"Do you have slushies?" Russell asked.
"Uh, no, sorry," the waitress answered hesitantly.
"They don't serve that in restaurants," Dale chuckled.
"Aw," Russell sighed.
"You'll have to excuse them, they're from the forest and it's their first time in the city," Gadget said, "Why don't you guys just order water, it's probably what you're most used to."
The furlings agreed on that, while Dale ordered a soda. They then picked up the menu and scrolled through it. Willy stared at his blankly, squinting at the words and then looking crestfallen, ears down, wishing he were able to read.
"Chin up, Willy," Abigail said, "I'll help you pick something. I want something with cheese in it."
"Yeah that cheese stuff was great," Willy answered, turning his attention to the pepper shaker.
"Hehe, think it'll taste better than salt?" Abigail asked, glancing at him over the menu.
"This is a place where you go to eat stuff, right? Why would it be on the table if you couldn't eat it?"
He sprinkled a small pile of pepper onto his tongue, immediately regretting it. Gagging, he took a napkin and tried rubbing the taste out of his mouth. Dale laughed watching this.
"Golly Willy, you're only supposed to sprinkle a little bit on your food, not eat it by itself," Gadget explained, taking a small spoon of sugar from the bowl in the middle of the table and mixing it into her coffee.
"I'll sure be glad when we get back to the wilderness," Willy said, shaking his head, "This city place is too weird."
"I dunno, I almost wish we could stay a little longer," said Edgar, "I feel like we didn't get to see that much."
"I wanna watch another movie," Russell added.
"There's too many scary humans around here though," said Michelle, "I wanna go home."
"Gadget, what's a grilled cheese sandwich?" Abigail asked.
"Oh, I bet you'd like that. They take some cheese and put it between two slices of bread, then grill it."
"Well I'll get it then," she said, putting the menu down and folding her arms.
"Me too," Willy chimed in, copying Abigail.
"Wait until the waitress comes back and then tell her."
"What are pancakes?" asked Russell.
"Hm, well they mix batter and cook it into a round shape, then you pour syrup and butter onto it," Gadget explained.
"Sounds good," he said.
"Maybe I'll have that too," said Edgar.
When the waitress returned with a pitcher of ice water and some cups, they gave their orders. The waitress jotted their orders down on a notepad and took it to the back. In a little while she arrived with a large platter, handing plates of food to everyone.
"Okay you guys, eat up," said Gadget, "After this we'll stock up on food to bring with, and we'll be off."
Abigail bit into her grilled cheese sandwich, finding it delicious.
"How long do you think the trip will be?" she asked.
"Well how long did it take for you to get here? "
"Um, about two days," she said.
"The Ranger Wing is a bit faster, so maybe we'll make it in less time," Gadget said with optimism.
Willy tried to sprinkle a small amount of salt and pepper on his sandwich. He bit into it, and then nodded approvingly, as Abigail giggled again.
After a quick breakfast, Gadget was re-energized and once she paid and left a tip, led everyone back into the plane, to begin their long journey south in hopes of help from the mysterious rats of NIMH.