Thanks to all who followed, favorited, and reviewed chapter four; I'm now in double digits in all categories! The stage is now (mostly) set and plot shall soon commence! I appreciate the nice reviews from Justnibblin (again) and guests.
TB
Chapter Five:
Flawmammals
Previous night—Park Savanna Hotel—Room 420:
Skye Winter stepped out into the hall, ice bucket in paw, and toddled down to the vending machine nook at the end. Hunched over, she kept her tail tucked inside her less-than-flattering calf length skirt, and the beige headband effectively flattened her ears.
Frozen square chips clattered against plastic and each other to fill the bucket; the machine hummed to itself in satisfaction of a job well done. Might come in handy the arctic vixen thought—bruises were always a possibility.
The only floor security camera she'd found overlooked the elevator bay—its perspective limited what could be seen down towards their end of the hall. Skye duck-walked back towards it, no one would notice that she went on to stop at room 416 instead of hers. She pulled the keycard off the back of the Do-Not-Disturb hangtag, looked down as she entered a thoroughly dark room and set the ice bucket off to the side. Skye stripped off her headband, freed her tail, and waited for the door to swing...
"Click."
Go! She quickly swept through the bathroom, its nightlight mockingly remained on but she still had to make sure of the damp shower. Clear. Closet doorslide was partially closed; she shoved it open, tail and paws questing where eyes couldn't penetrate. Clear. Next the dim bulk of the dresser with its vague lamp and TV shapes on top—as expected he'd done away with any light from clocks and other electronics. Skye knew that just the bottom drawer was large enough; faint scent there—she started to pull it open and stopped—obviously empty. She rapidly continued the search planned out in her own room earlier.
The bed—the main scent trail led here as expected—he hadn't overdone it this time. Its top spread felt undisturbed, all four pillows were present—he wouldn't try that one again so soon. She had to sweep the carpet along both sides, underneath wasn't a problem, not enough space there. Skye danced about, tail just above the floor feeling for what shouldn't be there, under a table, behind a chair, with other senses straining. What...?
Skye lunged for the dresser—her paw reached the bulky ceramic lamp and hit soft fur with ribs buried beneath.
"Oof, Dammit! Two seconds!"
Skye reached for the ceiling light switch to reveal a furry idol still hugging his knees beneath a generically artsy lampshade. "You're so honest dear, I thought I'd lost—with you right out here in the open."
"Almost had you; how'd you notice?" said a fur—and nothing else—clad Jack Savage as he gave her the lampshade and hopped down to the floor.
"Saw your ears move, tips flipped up. Too bad if it's involuntary dear," she said gleefully, "this night is mine!" Skye then stepped over to gently flick one of his betrayers.
"Black against black? I made it really dark in here, even you can't accommodate in thirty seconds," the hare complained as he restored appliances and retrieved the rest of the lamp hidden behind the TV. Its pale glazed ugliness was close to the shade of his fur.
Skye looked straight at her mate, shut one eye and kept it that way. "Held this for fifteen minutes."
"Close your mouth Jack, I'm more interested in the buck than the teeth." Her claw traced the dark wedges marked in the soft fur of his cheeks as she pondered his fate.
Increment +11.9 hours.
"That should do it!" Jack picked the latest wad of white fur off the comb and tossed it in the quarter full wastebasket.
"Continue, thrall, it's only 7:54. You're mine for another six minutes." Skye tipped her head forward and stretched her arms above it, paws clenched. Her private groomer's long slow strokes down her back and tail resumed, with occasional detours to her more sensitive flanks. She mostly resisted those attempts, to ration his satisfaction. This was worth a little haste later—she permitted herself another slight shiver.
"Le Rippe Oeuf in the lobby has a breakfast buffet if milady approves. That'll save enough time," Jack said as they dressed. "Now—since we postponed this—your opinion on our mirror twins?"
She'd given this thought in spite of earlier...distractions. "I'm fairly certain they've begun to realize that their definition of 'partners' has changed; particularly Hopps. I have some mild experience with cute bunny expressions; you should have seen hers when she walked in and caught them tail-fencing."
"So you don't believe her 'conduct unbecoming an officer' bit?" Jack's smile said he didn't either.
"The only one that did was Wilde, poor fox," Skye said. "The skunk was honest, I think it was a friendly recovery from whatever happened earlier between them. It actually only lasted for a couple of seconds—right as Hopps walked in."
"Assuming her possible interest in him; do you think Wilde is aware of it?
"Can't tell. He did act like a junior officer caught engaged in unprofessional conduct. My vixen's intuition says he's good at covering his emotions; I think this is a wait and see."
"Both of them were pretty quiet until lunch loosened them up," Jack noted. "
"Again, wait and see. We just met them—we shouldn't get too excited yet. It'll give us something to do dear since I don't think we get to look at dead things today." Skye pouted for effect.
The social sciences faculty lounge at Zootopia University was certainly more inviting than the museum catacombs. There were comfortable seats around an antique rodent carved oak table that held refreshments, and the room's slight mustiness came from books rather than unearthed remains.
"...And we've all met doctor Alder," finished Dr. Soren before she waved to the seats.
"These four officers are now fully acquainted with our findings and concerns, doctor Barret," Dr. Alder said. "But before you disillusion us further, I need to mention an issue that will affect all of our further investigations. Apparently, the city has a budget shortfall and they have decided to cut our discretionary research funds. We can barely cover salaries now, and basic services already exhaust museum admissions and concessions."
"Perhaps those on high only want you to uncover our distant past." Dr. Barret looked up to the paneled ceiling for a few seconds, but Skye was sure that his suspicion was quite grounded. She noticed the academics' comments had also drawn Jack's attention.
Dr. Kenton Barret was a European badger of indeterminate age, although younger than the raccoon paleontologist. His name, along with more than a hint of a northern brogue, made Skye wonder how close their old family territories might possibly be. Badgers had always been more tolerant of foxes than other species were; she'd gotten a nice smile from the sociologist when introduced—that broadened when she'd sat beside him.
As she'd wanted, with Jack on her left and Soren beyond him as they sat in a loose circle around the table. That put the ZPD mammals-of-interest nearly opposite them, where they could be watched unobtrusively. The window behind her with its bright third-floor view of the ZU campus would aid that.
Wilde was without his crutch today, but still had a halt in his step; Hopps had stayed close, as if she could provide effectual assistance if needed. It was quite the mismatch; the doe was the smallest of their group, the todd the largest. Still, Skye noted, there's a comfortable familiarity between them.
"I've been requested to place my colleague's unfortunate discoveries in the context of today's society for you," Dr. Barret stated. "Or more bluntly, why the risk that society might shatter into separate, combative factions over this is so real.
"Outwardly, many of us are proud of the modern culture that we live and work in. Zootopia is purportedly the shining inclusive ideal for the rest of the world to emulate. Unfortunately, no thought was given to the foundations that we laboriously built this society on. They are under assault by forces as relentless as the waves that undermine a kit's sand construction on the beach. Tides of nature and history, swells and undercurrents of our prejudices held or endured..."
"Not again! Doctor...Barret, why does everybody assume that society is always about to fail!" interrupted an upset officer Hopps. "He,"—she nearly poked Wilde in the muzzle—"spent most of the other day telling me the same thing. All of us mammals built it together, it works, so why do you think we can't keep improving it. All this pessimism is going to end up more harmful than the nighthowlers were!" The rabbit officer stared around at them.
Skye held her paws up in a 'I didn't say anything' gesture, as Wilde reached a calming paw towards Hopps' shoulder, thought better of it, and withdrew. Ok, the vixen thought, that's another check in the 'yes they are' column.
"Because officer Hopps, the forces that hold a large society together arose too recently to have developed their full strength; unlike the mammals who chafe under their restrictions. All those species have had a thousand times longer to develop effective and opposing instincts, fears, resentments and other behaviors that are now destructive rather than beneficial for our joint survival.
"Except for those grazing species that have always moved in large herds for protection, most mammals evolved to live in small communities or as solitary individuals," Dr. Barret said. "Most individuals can keep significant relationships with no more than two or three hundred others of their kind—typical village size. If a village grew too much, the population would split and found a new one for sound personal and logistical reasons. This was a basic, but socially workable state of affairs that lasted for thousands of years.
"Once better technology and alliances with other cooperative species allowed larger communities, more or less separate social groups had to form within them. So, as cities grew, they divided and then subdivided us. We are forced to ignore most of those beyond our immediate circle of acquaintances lest we be socially overwhelmed. This works on the level of an individual species, as well...oh my...
"Officer Hopps? Are you from the Bunnyburrow Hopps; that very large family?" The badger's eyes widened and Hopps also seemed surprised as she turned to him.
"Yes, you know us? I only met a few badgers growing up. There never were a lot of you guys around," Hopps said, now composed.
"You're quite famous in my field of study," Dr. Barret said. "At present, you're the largest consanguin...uh...single generation family known." Officer Hopps visibly wilted under everyone else's suddenly curious gaze.
"What do you mean? Is someone studying us?" Her eyes narrowed and voice rose again. "That violates our privacy! Who gave anyone the right to watch us! There are lots of other large rabbit families—the Twitchell's have over a hundred already, the Connors' got a hundred and sixty." Hopps waved her briefly clenched paws; then didn't seem to know where to put them.
"Only through publicly available records, officer!" Dr. Barret seemed rather taken aback by Hopps' reaction, and rubbed at the wide white stripe down his muzzle. "This is just a simple demographic research project that looks at many large families across several species. They don't actually watch anyone since there's no resources or need for it. At most, a researcher might ask a family member to keep a journal to anonymously track family dynamics."
"So that's what you're doing Jeremy," Hopps muttered. "And Ginny thought you were writing po..." She bit off the last word.
"Since it's supposed to be an anonymous study, does he assign all of you specimen numbers?" Wilde remarked with a disingenuous smirk.
"Niiick!" The red fox got a death glare from the scandalized rabbit and his own expression recognized he'd gone too far. Automatic first name use thought Skye—so big check.
Skye got up to draw notice and break the tension. She poured a glass of water and reached across the table to give it to Hopps—who nodded back and took a gulp. Jack, Soren and Alder also passed the pitcher to help fill in the awkward pause and hopefully reset the conversation.
"Sorry to go off on a tangent and upset you officer Hopps," said Dr. Barret after a full minute. "That's not my research, I just made the connection. I am curious though, how many of you are there now?"
Hopps set her glass on the table and leaned back; resigned to being the center of attention for a bit longer. "Mom and Dad have three hundred and twenty-eight of us—and that's it! They decided that eight years ago. Grandkits over half that already."
"Impressive. I wish all of you the best. I have a last question for you that's relevant to my earlier comments if you'll permit me?" Hopps nodded reluctantly to the Badger. "How many friends do you and your siblings generally have outside of your family?"
"For most of us, just a few. I see your earlier point; keeping up with family takes most of our social time," Hopps admitted, stroking first one ear, then the other to keep her paws busy.
"Now consider all of Zootopia with its—what are we now—eighteen million? Anyway, each of its inhabitants has a limited social circle, and most everyone beyond that is just part of the background annoyance of a large city."
"Except him," Hopps countered sarcastically, glancing at Wilde, "he knows everybody!"
"Some mammals can have a wide but diffuse set of social contacts, but that's a long way from everyone," said Dr. Barret with a chuckle. "If so, it would take our fox years just to recite all their names.
"Now lets go back a thousand years. The largest social and political entities at the time were numerous city-states composed of a few cooperative and generally similar species. With simpler lifestyles and populations in the tens of thousands, there wasn't a lot of room for interspecies conflict within the community; everyone was just trying to survive.
"Conflicts of course happened between city-states, not all of them across the predator-prey divide. There were beneficial changes during this period as well. Large numbers of species specific languages evolved through necessity into fewer, ones usable by many different kinds of mammals. Over the last millennium, the city-states slowly merged and developed into nation states with tens, then a hundred or more diverse species living together, which forced further language consolidation.
"Today we have only a few common languages and a myriad possible conflicts between all of our species." Dr. Barret dug out a calculator. "Lets see, Zootopia has about..."
"Three hundred and forty-one," Wilde said. Soren grinned and Hopps huffed.
"Just so...species pairings...that gives us almost fifty-eight thousand combinations. Now, even if you group similar or compatible species,"—he gave Skye another nice smile—"we probably still have a few thousand avenues of contention for our baser natures to explore."
"To put that problem in perspective, imagine a monoculture; how easy it would be to live in and manage a society if everyone was the same species! We'd all have common needs, a common evolution and history, and a thorough understanding of each other barring the usual interpersonal disputes. Unfortunately, our closest examples to that ideal are a few remote towns, and certain large, rural families." Barret got a slow nod and wan smile from Hopps.
"Our reality is, we have a large number of species whose physiological differences lead to misunderstandings, annoyances, animosities, and prejudices developing between them. Then segregation both cultural and self-imposed between those species allows their base natures to fester—until something like our present problem comes up and threatens to release them.
"A good way to understand how profound those physiological differences between mammals are, would be to consider a simple reflexive reaction. If you touch a hot object, the sensory impulse travels up your arm to the spine and generates an involuntary motor pulse back down the arm to jerk it away before you even think about it. This takes somewhat over one hundred milliseconds for mammals our size, which shows that nervous system impulses propagate at a finite speed. Obviously, they will take a longer time to travel through a larger body than a smaller one. Measurements show this ratio can approach fifty-to-one between the largest and smallest mammals.
"There is another factor to consider before we arrive at my conclusion. In lower animals there is a strong correlation between brain volume and cognitive ability, but that applies weakly across the wide size range of intelligent mammals. The reason for this is found in the cells of the brain. Take a typical neuron from any of our brains; all of us here are mid-sized mammals. Now take one from a rat or ferret; it's half the size of ours. In a mouse or shrew it's barely a third the size.
"Bigger isn't better here, actually all three sizes of neuron perform their cellular functions similarly. However, if we compare equal volumes, the smaller mammal can pack eight times as many of them in as we do, the smallest twenty-seven times as many. A simple three-to-one ratio of brain cell sizes compensates for most of the cranial volume differences from elephant to shrew!"
Dr. Barret favored them in turn with an anticipatory smile until Skye took the bait to get things moving again.
"So small mammals have an advantage due to their much faster reflexes and possibly faster thought processes?" Skye gave a coquettish wave of her tail to the badger's delight, and noted a certain lack of reaction opposite her.
"Thank you Miss Winter. Now I can get to the really interesting part—which I'm continually amazed that more mammals don't realize themselves. Everyone, what words come to mind when you think of small rodents in general? Don't worry, you can let the stereotypes flow!"
"Frenetic?" Skye said. "Scurrying," was Hopps contribution, "scamper...hasty..."
"Good enough," said Barret. "For us, watching rodents go about their daily lives is no different than viewing a mild time-lapse movie. I use that phrase deliberately, as the smallest mammals experience a faster apparent passage of time—some three or four times that of ours due to their accelerated neurotransmission and metabolic rates. It might be as much as six to one from the smallest to the largest mammals. This temporal perception disparity has been tested and verified across numerous species. It's an active and fascinating field of research!"
"So fifteen minutes to us is like an hour to them, right?" Wilde said slowly. "They're like overclocked computers, no wonder they burn out faster." Hopps looked annoyed with him, then pensive.
"Real sensitive Nick; yes, they don't live as long as most of us," she said sardonically. "But it's not that way to them. They have fewer days, but they experience them as much longer ones...and just see us as...slow."
"This is probably the most profound difference between groups of species in Zootopia," Barret said. "How do you relate comfortably to someone who perceives the passage of time differently?"
"There's a large number of rodents working in hi-tech manufacturing," Jack said, "this has to be their main advantage."
"Yes, all those fast, dexterous workers in electronics and aerospace. Such labor is their most valuable contribution to the rest of society. It is also another illustration of the segregation by species that drives so much of the prejudice and discrimination in our society. Attempts to equalize opportunities for all are doomed to failure in spite of the idealists and the politicians with their inclusion initiatives." Dr. Barret looked directly at a tight lipped Hopps as he spoke.
"I'm aware of your inspiring story officer," the badger said, "but the reality is that you might inspire far more to failure than success through no fault of your own."
Skye watched Hopps' face contort as the rabbit struggled for control—what could she say to calm her? Jack thankfully interceded first.
"Hopps, society has real problems, but we have to preserve it first, flaws and all, before we can take the time to fix them. There's no blame or insult intended, I'm sure. Doctor Barret is being blunt to make his points clear. We have to understand where we're vulnerable so we can know how to proceed. I for one, have no idea where this will all go."
"It's too much! We're still dealing with consequences from the savage crisis!" Hopps whined—paws on her bowed head; ears plastered back. "Can't we get a break from the bad stuff? Just for awhile?" Wilde looked tense and conflicted as he sat stiffly beside her.
"Our jobs are to handle the bad stuff so everybody else can have that illusion of a break from it," Jack said. "Do you need some time before we continue?" he said more softly.
"Well I know I need a comfort break!" Dr. Alder said as he stood. The raccoon successfully lured Hopps out of the lounge after him, and Wilde abruptly motioned Soren along behind her. Dr. Barret checked the door and they huddled around the gesturing fox.
"I'm about to break a confidence and a regulation and I need your words and silence," Wilde whispered urgently; paws on both Barret's and Jack's shoulders. "Thank you. Please hold any opinions you have of...officer Hopps until she can prove herself. She...recently was involved in an incident where she was forced to...justifiably shoot someone. They nearly died. This new threat is too much of a load on her right now. I didn't realize she was this badly overstressed until today—all these mood changes. Usually, we wait it out or I distract or talk her through it, but I can't now! She needs your patience and discretion."
Wilde swept out of the room and dropped to a casual saunter as soon as he was in the hall. Skye looked at Jack—the decision was mutual—they had to talk privately with them. Soon.
For now, Hopps was too messed up for Skye to get a good read on the depth of her feelings for Wilde—but that fox! Wilde seemed amiable enough when he'd engaged in casual banter with them, and even some suggestive but meaningless teasing with Dr. Soren. He was relaxed and glib with her as well, but it lacked any seriousness or interest at all.
Really, Skye thought, even Dr. Barret here had mildly hit on her; the one thing she'd never expected to experience was sexual invisibility to a presumably healthy todd. Even the mated ones would at least notice her!
The other four filtered back in over the next few minutes, and Dr. Barret wasted no time.
"I believe I need to change my approach to our discussion. My colleagues and I do tend to sermonize—we are academics after all. I've been trying to point out reasons for the divisions among species and society; but it might be more productive if I ask you four officers to provide a few examples, while we merely comment. Perhaps officer Hopps could provide our next one."
Skye had to admit the badger was perceptive, and already had Hopps concentrating on a distraction.
"I guess if rodents didn't have those faster reflexes, there would be a lot more mismatched traffic accidents," Hopps observed. "We really don't worry about the small traffic when responding to a call—they always just seem to get out of the way! That also explains size-based see and avoid regulations."
"How about farming?" Soren offered. "Large herbivores tend to farm the big crops; wheat, corn, orchards. And you smaller guys," she pointed at Jack with a broad smile, "are perfect for growing veggies."
"I'll grant you there's sometimes a justification for stereotypes," Jack mused. "You can also call it institutionalized job discrimination. A lot of mammals find themselves restricted to or from certain occupations for reasons valid or not, and that causes a lot of resentment."
"You just put one of society's biggest problems under your paw, Mr. Savage," Barret said. "Do you have your own example in mind?"
"Yeah, a personal interest. How many of you follow the space program?"
There were three affirmative nods; Skye's among them due to Jack's fascination with it. Hopps and Wilde looked mildly embarrassed. From the look on her mate's face, the professors were about to get a taste of their own medicine.
"They're making preparations for our sixth orbital spaceflight, the first long-duration one, Spacelab Alpha. Crew of twenty, including a couple of lemmings, on a planned month long mission. Its taken a long time to get this far, funding's always tight, since there's never much public support."
"No wonder," said Wilde, "all they do is send up rodents."
"Yes, I remember some mammals called them Astrodents," Dr. Alder said. "And I read an editorial once that called the first launch...Mousetrap One."
"There's good reason for that," Jack said. "It's very expensive to put anything in space and those early rockets had small payloads. That first crewed flight put four mammals in orbit—all different species—in a spacecraft barely larger than you are officer Hopps."
"Why'd they risk sending four up on the first mission?" Wilde said.
"The reason given at the time was that if one or more species had a problem with extended zero gravity, another might withstand it and maintain control." Jack cracked a small smile. "I think the real reason was to involve several species early to garner support for the program. The problem was that like today, they're all small."
"An excellent and visible example," Dr. Alder said. "Space program funding impacted by size-based envies among the public."
"Don't we have more powerful rockets now? They'd get more public support if they launched some larger mammals," Wilde noted.
"Cost effectiveness is still a bigger driver than public relations unfortunately," Jack said. "I wish I had a picture of the new spacelab officer Wilde, it's quite impressive looking—at least in the artist's conception of it orbiting the earth.
"The reality is, the lab would easily fit in this room, solar panels and all. Disappointing isn't it? The main hull is a meter in diameter and about three or so long. Its Aurora 2B booster can just get it into a high enough orbit for the duration of the mission. Let's say we replaced its twenty strong crew with you for example. Our brave starfox might last a few days, crammed into a space barely large enough for him to scratch his tail, before he ran out of an important consumable like water or air."
"It's like the economy, resources go a lot further for smaller mammals," Hopps chimed in.
"There's hope for the rest of us," Jack enthused as his ears perked up. "Once they mammal-rate the new Ursus launcher they'll be able to lift a spacecraft that can hold someone my size!"
"But not anyone larger for awhile, right?" Hopps said. Her own ears were up and she'd regained interest in the conversation. Skye respected the rabbit's quick resilience.
"It's not feasible. This is just a more extreme example of the reason why air travel remains a limited service for the elite," Jack said as Skye suppressed a smile.
"Another triumph of the Square-Cube Law!" Barret clapped his paws. "Do go on."
"There's a reason most long-distance travel is by ship or rail. They carry a wide range of loads cheaply and efficiently. Airplanes are very weight restricted and can't economically carry large, heavy passengers. Their one real advantage is speed, and that costs."
"Our economic levels don't adequately compensate for weight differences or allow anything close to equitable ticket prices for all species," Barret added. "Thousands of small rodents can fly for the cost of transporting one elephant. The public wouldn't accept actual cost pricing. An airline has to either discriminate for practical reasons, charge universal high fares as they do now, or receive subsidies to be viable as a business."
"Also, large passengers have little or no choice of seating, and are prohibited from moving around the cabin for weight and balance reasons. Bias mandated by the laws of physics," Jack concluded.
"I hadn't thought about it very much, but large mammals have that problem almost everywhere," Hopps said. "A lot of Zootopia is inaccessible to them but not so much for us. I mean, my apartment has too much headroom and not enough floorspace, but it's usable. We smaller mammals might not always have the best choices, but we make do since we have a lot more of them."
"Choices...there are still places that find ways to avoid renting to skunks, and I'm a degreed professional!" Dr. Soren gave an irritated little side-flick of her tail.
"Just another one of the many forms of discrimination and divisions between us, many unbridgeable due to our physical natures," Dr. Barret said. "I have one last example to show how wide those can be. Aquatic mammals like dolphins.
"We all know that they are at least as intelligent as any of us—even though they have no technology beyond what they trade fishery work for. However, the physical and perceptual differences are so great between the aquatic species and us, that we have only developed rudimentary communications with them.
"The reason? Just like we have a temporal disparity with small rodents, we have a sensory one with dolphins. Compared to all of us, dolphins have weak eyesight; they cannot see any colors. For our foxes, a dolphin possesses no sense of smell at all. For our lagomorphs, the range and sensitivity of their hearing well exceeds yours, and is their primary sense. Their worldview is incompatible with ours, what's crucial to one, is unusable or imperceptible to the other.
"No mammal is unaffected by the sometimes profound differences between us. This is what I wanted to illustrate for you today, the true fragility of our society in the face of a threatened resurgence of past animosities and prejudices."
"It's been a long process," Hopps glanced up at Wilde, then back to Barret, "but you've all finally managed to dispose of any remaining illusions I had. I'll let you know if I find one you missed." She managed another sardonic smile before saying...
"So what can we actually do to prevent this?"
"Gather as much information as we can," Dr. Alder said. "Unfortunately, yesterday I received a preprint paper that seems to confirm an abject anxiety that I've had.
"A new site has been found in the city of Fairfield back east. They had removed an old building and had started to dig a deeper foundation for a new one—right downtown! The excavation uncovered remnant walls around several enclosures and a small pit nearby. They called in a Dr. Ulric—I haven't even looked him up yet—who mapped the site and removed the remains to allow construction to proceed.
"The pit contained fairly intact remains of a few of our primitive Coypu. A piece of wood and a bone were tested with a preliminary date of from four to five hundred years. That was all he was able to do before the city authorities claimed ownership and demanded the return of all the specimens."
Something was wrong here, Skye realized, first Alder's budget, and now a quick confiscation?
"We have a problem," the raccoon stated. "As I feared, dissemination of what we know may be out of our control. Worse, a significant and well-studied multi-species prey community has continually occupied this location for at least six hundred years. If verified, this is inescapable proof...
"Multiple prey species were also raising meat animals."
Notes:
Dark adaptation: Full adaptation occurs after twenty to thirty minutes in the dark. Ten to fifteen gets you most of the way there. Astronomers will hold one eye closed if they have to use a light or avoid one (Car headlights) to preserve the adaptation in it.
The Hopps family: Bonnie stated at the fair that the nine-year-old Judy had 275 siblings. Assuming Judy was among the older ones, that means her mom needed to maintain an average pace of three litters of nine kits each per year for ten years. At Judy's graduation, and at the train platform, there is a full range of young rabbits seen. If her parents had stopped reproducing when Judy was nine, there would be a gap in ages. Grandkits would likely be five or younger and the last of Bonnie and Stu's would be around fifteen. Being merciful, I assumed she'd slow down a lot over the last several years and end up with 328. Bonnie still gets the mother of the millennium award!
Cranial volume: The range of sizes between the largest and smallest mammals in Zootopia is somewhat less than in our world. Elephants are somewhat smaller; small rodents a bit bigger with a little higher E.Q. (Encephalization Quotient)
Temporal Perception Disparity: The idea that small creatures with fast neurotransmission rates think and experience the flow of time faster. I got the idea from the scene where the lemmings are purchasing and eating Nick's pawpsicles at a frantic rate; and also from an essay by Hayao Miyazaki.
The space program: With no cold war to drive a space race with a rival power, I assumed that the Zootopian program would be similar to China's in our world. It would start later (Early 90s) and progress slowly and cautiously, with a flight every few years. Orbital infrastructure would also develop more slowly, but from a higher technological base. Things like moon shots, interplanetary probes and a GPS constellation are still a few years in their future. (Navigation is regional, and ground transmitter based) Care to design a space helmet for an elk?