The Scientific Center for Research and Advancement rightfully holds the title of Zootopia's ugliest structure. At two stories high and domed, it appears to hunch under the surrounding buildings like a shunned child. Steel bars painted a nauseous green thread over the glass in a sickly, metal spiderweb. Horrendously avant-garde decorations constructed to give the appearance of cracked glass spread over the dome in shattered waves, giving the appearance of a giant vegetable being peeled. Long weeds pepper the gardens around the base of the building, slapping against the steel and glass in the gentle breeze. In the center of the garden, a tacky marble statue of an egotistical and extravagant donor sits in a thoughtful pose examining an apple. Bird shit smatters over the top of the statue, running down the head in crusted, white lines.
Originally planned to be Zootopia's tallest structure at the time, 'The Spire' sits as a pitiful, broken promise at the border between the Rainforest District and the metropolis area. During its construction in 1962, the architects and engineers realized that the materials used to build the base wouldn't be able to hold the extra weight of the machinery that was to be installed on each of the eighty floors. The city budget for the structure couldn't support ordering new materials, and the engineers were forced to build down. Construction turned costly, only allowing for thirty-two floors to be built, much to the displeasure of the scientists who had been waiting for the facility. Even though the name was changed from The Spire to the Scientific Center for Research and Advancement, the running joke was that it "a'Spired" to be like the other buildings, and the name stuck.
Samantha stands in the middle of the street, shivering as the brisk wind blows through her fur. She doesn't remember what motivated her to leave the warmth of her bed, or what prompted her to walk outside in a rainstorm in the middle of the night, but that doesn't matter anymore. All she knows is that she's supposed to be here. As Samantha stares at the building in front of her, a frigid ball of pressure builds at the center of her forehead, like a cold thumb pressing against her skull from the inside out. She closes her eyes, losing herself in the sensation. For a moment, she remembers feeling the same pressure before getting out of bed, but the memory is washed away when feeling grows, pulsating underneath the surface of her skull.
Then it moves.
Journeying from her cerebral cortex to the cerebellum, Samantha grimaces in slight discomfort as the pressure wriggles like a worm through her head as if it is searching. It seems to fill up an impossible amount of space, yet still manages to move freely inside her head, burrowing through the tangled gray matter. Finally, it settles in her temporal lobe, rummaging through the synapses and nerves. It sits, content with its new position. Samantha flexes her ears as words start to spill into her mind. The voice behind them is empty and gruff, never pausing as it speaks an endless stream of words. They come as warped encouragement that echoes through the void of space.
—startled catalyst it is time to begin your martyrdom we will lay you down sweetly in this garden of stone and glass until black hands grip and mark your heaving corpse to put under their watchful unblinking eyes while the knife serenades the flesh away from the body and cuts into mysterious and grieving bones—
Samantha barely acknowledges the sirens as a police cruiser and an ambulance turns the corner of the street behind her, parking only a few yards away. Instead, she focuses her attention on the ugly, domed building at the end of the block, watching the fake security guard who sits behind a desk inside pretend to be bored with his job. The light over his head flickers and the security guard glances nervously upwards.
The voice in Samantha's head ceases its rambling, dispersing like smoke, only to be replaced by a soft, feminine crooning. Delicately, the voice seeps into her brain, conquering her mind. Samantha feels herself exhale. The words are relaxing, almost like a lullaby, but certainly not one she's ever heard. She starts to hum the tune out loud.
Leonard and Nick wait for the ambulance to pull up behind them, watching the vehicle in the rearview mirror before getting out of the car. The big cat glances at the paramedics as they grab medical kits from the side compartments of the car, quickly running over their equipment. The old ram turns her head back towards the back of the ambulance where the old sheep lays in the stretcher, gazing at the ceiling. She turns to Richard, giving what looks like a sharp command, and the otter waddles into the back to check on the sheep. Leonard turns to Nick, keeping his eyes on the young paramedic walking back to the passenger seat.
"Aren't they supposed to leave him back at his apartment or a hospital or something?" he asks, but the fox isn't looking at him. Instead, Nick surveys the buildings along the street, cupping his ears with intense concentration, his head flicking back and forth between the different apartment complexes. Nick paws the tranquilizer at his side.
"Tell them to stay in the ambulance," he says, stepping towards the rabbit who stands only a hundred feet away, "and keep the engine running."
Leonard pauses, watching his partner as he begins a slow approach towards the woman, then turns towards the ambulance while holding a paw up.
Nick makes his way over to the rabbit, watching as a light breeze blows over her brown fur which is lit up in a golden light underneath an old streetlamp with a gross similarity to glazed meat. As Nick approaches, he can't help but feel the unfortunate tug of nervousness in his gut. His footsteps echo on the empty street, becoming almost deafeningly loud to him as he reaches the halfway point. He calls out to the young woman, finding it odd that she hasn't taken notice of him by now.
"Ma'am, I'm a police officer. Please respond if you can hear me."
The rabbit says nothing, continuing to look at The Spire. He eyes her over, taking in her wrinkled sweatshirt and sweatpants, as well as her strangely relaxed posture. Nick deems her non-threatening, but still feels like she should be approached cautiously, inch by inch. A bright screen catches his eye, and glancing at her paw he sees a small flip-phone, open and glaring. He walks around to face her, shining the flashlight over her body. He nearly drops it when he gets to her face.
Her pupils explode over her eyeballs in a macabre paint splatter art. Small, perfect circles of pitch black scatter over the whites of her eyes like tiny black holes, and the longer Nick stares into her eyes, the more that he feels like he's being sucked into something. Recoiling from her ruined eyes, Nick immediately signals for the ambulance to drive over. Something is obviously wrong with this woman. As the ambulance rolls over, the rabbit slowly turns her head to acknowledge Nick. She smiles at the fox, and he perks at the sudden acknowledgment. He starts to slowly ask questions, bending down awkwardly on one knee to match her height.
"Ma'am, ma'am, can you hear me? Do you understand me? I'm a police officer with the ZPD, and I'm here to make sure that you're okay. Hello, ma'am?"
She flexes her ears, eyes flicking over Nick's face before letting out a long exhale. Her voice is sweet and floaty, like she's in a dream.
"She's coming soon, you know," she says, and for the second time that night, an uneasy tug pulls at Nick's gut. He feels his claws extend and the hair on the back of his neck raise at the woman's easygoing words, and he has to force himself not to let his ears slide back. Every instinct he has tells him to run away from this woman. She turns away from him, focusing back on The Spire.
The ambulance rolls up, and the two paramedics step out with Leonard. The young otter raises a quizzical eyebrow at Nick as he walks over, and Nick points to his eye. The otter walks around to the front of the rabbit, shining a light into her pupils. Nick watches the same look of disbelief and horror play over the otter's face as he examines the woman's face. He begins to ask the woman questions, to which he gets no response. Instead, the woman begins to hum a strange tune.
"Baa, baa, black sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir,
Three bags full.
One for the master,
One for the dame,
One for the little boy,
Who lives down the lane."