Chapter 14: Moments of Transition

Zootopia, the Next Day.

The disease that had been labeled a flu had now reached pandemic levels, people were afraid to go out their doors, and order seemed to have broken down, the fine animals of the ZPD had their resources stretched to the limit, Wolverine Risk Control, normally invisible to the average citizen had cropped up seemingly overnight, their grey and orange uniformed personnel along with matching vehicles were now everywhere, private businesses such as Kai Ren Medical, Lucas Technologies even Logan Financial had them working and securing their buildings.

It seemed the Mayor's office had even thrown its hat into the ring, for they gave a special exemption to WRC to supplement the police units in the city.

WRC had also taken to securing areas that currently were not under any kind of riot conditions or crime watch, they would mobilize, secure an area, and then hours later leave without saying a word. The ZPD officers did not like the idea of having their authority usurped by these gray and orange-clad soldiers.

The WRC unit in the city was under the watchful eye of a silver-white timber wolf named Gideon Frost, his story was the same as most of the Zootopians who worked for WRC, ex-military or ex-cop looking for a paycheck doing what they knew to do, except Gideon was a reluctant recruit to WRC, if it wasn't for the cutback and layoffs a few years ago he would probably still be working for the ZPD. But when anti-predator sentiment had shot through the roof due to the now infamous "savage case", he signed on to protect those who were being unfairly targeted by animals who had let their fears get out of paw and took to the streets with more violent intentions then the very animals they accused. Plus, it was a good paycheck, steady hours, and benefits.

Gideon, however, had not expected to be working so much corporate security, protecting buildings, assets, and possessions. "Things" as he called it "over mammals." That aspect did frustrate him but he wasn't going to walk away, especially since some of the more extreme and ruthless-sounding captains just bucking for the Commander's spot, he felt it was his duty to keep them out of his chair as much as it was to keep himself in it. financial security aside the job did test his principles.

Since WRC's inception, the police have felt that they were interlopers in what ZPD officers considered their exclusive realm, and they didn't like politics changing that assumption. From the very beginning WRC and the ZPD have butted heads, with jurisdictional disputes, where the line ends for one and starts for the other. Gideon had many long arguments with Chief Bogo, now he was gone, missing, and presumed dead. He felt very much alone now; and only now began to understand how much he missed those fights, the debates over law and justice, and what commitment to protection really meant. Bogo had his citizens to protect, and Gideon had his clients, two different words to describe the same thing, people who were asking for help and protection. Who was he to deny them that, WRC would be contracted to do what the police by their very nature can't, to always stand vigilant He understood the ZPD couldn't be on every street corner one hundred percent of the time, they had to use their resources smartly, and engage when necessary. Many mammals believe that illusion, and a dangerous illusion at that, that the police are always there for you. There was a reason why there was an adage, "When you have seconds to live, the police are minutes away." It's not apathy that limits them but practicality, short of turning Zootopia into a police state. Gideon wondered if that was happening anyway, by the hands of a corporate police force armed with enough firepower to invade countries. That was yet another reason he justified keeping his post, to provide a fair and restrained paw on situations like this.

The mayor's office was surrounded by protesters, animals of Zootopia that hadn't appeared to be sick and they demanded to be allowed to leave, however, the city was under quarantine, and travel each way was restricted. But that didn't stop the protesters, they were afraid, and they voiced that by making their demands loud and aggressive.

The police had set up a cordon around the Mayor's office but of course, WRC was also sent in to act as a 'safety net' which didn't please Andrew Grady, a cheetah who was assigned the dubious honor of 'Acting Police Chief', with Bogo absent and the deputy chief currently residing in the ZPD cemetery, the role of actually running things fell to Grady's inexperienced shoulders. It wasn't his fault really, who would have suspected that a sudden and intense attack would wipe out practically all the front-line officers at the ZPD Headquarters.

Gideon felt sorry for the young feline, only been on the force for a decade or so and now he's being told he's running the show. Gideon was briefed on him at WRC, he's a good cop, knows procedure, been in rough scrapes and while those would make him a good team or squad leader, he was not ready to be heading up a major metropolitan police force, not without at least another decade of experience. But there was no other practical option, other than to hire an unknown from outside the city something the commissioner's board was not keen on even considering. Gideon has never considered it due to his 'Non-Compete' clause in his contract but more over the fact that he was considered "the enemy" at least professionally speaking, and with the city now considered a 'client' that now put him head to head with Grady.

Andrew Grady had his own opinions of WRC, in his mind it was a private company, answerable seemingly to themselves, which he took to mean one thing, zero accountability. If the WRC decides to violate citizens' rights, they technically are allowed to do so, the Zootopian Bill of Rights protects against government violation of their civil rights, but WRC being private, operates effectively in a gray area, legally speaking. Grady had suspicions that maybe that is exactly how it was meant to be. Able to legally step around the 'restrictions' that the police are disposed to obey. It didn't sit right with him, not at all, and he made his displeasure known to anyone who would listen.

Grady and Frost were up in the Mayor's office talking with Mayor Clarence Devereaux, a nutria rat also known as a coypu from the creole section of the canal district, who spoke with a stereotypical southern Zootopian accent that reminded Gideon of a certain movie with a frog prince.

Frost and Grady were going back and forth in front of the mayor, his eyes darted back and forth watching the exchange like a tennis match. Phrases like 'Law and Order' 'Proper channels' and 'Police Procedure' were among the words mentioned, as well as several shouted expletives and passing disparaging remarks about one's parentage.

It was mainly Grady venting unfortunately, because WRC had an ironclad contract with the city and wasn't going anywhere, yet Frost did feel very much for him, in another universe or time, he could see himself making the same argument and standing where Grady was right now.

Grady was blinded by his anger so much, that even though he knew of Frost and the fact that he was a former ZPD officer himself it didn't faze him. He knew of Frost's history, his service record, and his subsequent layoff to save the city a few extra pennies. Grady thought of Bogo a lot as well, he didn't want the job, he wanted Bogo to come back and take his rightful place. Bogo's hoof prints were a lot to fill and Grady knew it, but he still stood up for the police, and that at least counted for something, and he was going to do the job.

Grady was conflicted with regards to Frost, being laid off and discarded like day-old doughnuts was no proper fate for a ZPD officer but did that justify becoming what he saw as a corporate 'shill'? A wolf commandeering a job meant for the bound protectors of the law wearing blue and gold. Grady saw Frost and took him at face value, that he was meant to be intimidating, done so by design, the WRC grey and orange uniform, Frost and his men looked like an invading army and Grady was acutely aware that it was exactly the image the company wanted to convey. 'Do what we say and we MIGHT kill you, don't do what we say and we will definitely kill you.'

Deveraux had finally had enough he slapped his paw onto the desk hard enough for both Commanders to break their argument and look at him

"I don't care about your personal feelings! You have to make them understand we can't let anyone out of the city! Understood?!"

"Yes, sir" said Frost and Grady

"And put your personal misgivings aside, for better or for worse, you two are working together." ordered the Mayor.

Frost and Grady stood in begrudged silent consent.

"This city is tearing itself apart, we got a mystery disease that literally seems to have popped up overnight, and the citizenry is panicking, some wanting to go, others wanting the infected quarantined together. I have city leaders and the military asking me if we have it contained, and I've got a powder keg brewing downstairs. I NEED the ZPD and WRC to work together and maintain order otherwise all hell is going to break loose." explained the Nutria.

Meanwhile….

The protesters outside with their signs, incensed, demanding, ordering to be allowed to get away from the plague. Their chants and synchronized thrusting and waving of signs into the air, was a tad bit intimidating, to say the least, these animals wanted to leave and be damned if they were going to sit and wait to get sick.

WRC was standing in a line formation on the statehouse steps blocking anyone from ascending the stairs; the ZPD had established two lines on either side of the protest group, a large fence barricading the park behind them.

They were heated and seemingly started to get riotous, a few shouted expletives and an occasional glass bottle would be hurled over the WRC or Police's heads.

The concern became palatable to the officers and WRC, an occasional request of calm from an officer on a bullhorn would ring out into the night Zootopian air, which would cause a bit of fervor and discussion before the yelling would continue.

ZTV reporters had arrived on the scene and were covering the whole spectacle, it was real life, raw and uncut, and of course, they would be here. They circled around like vultures in flight looking for their next meal, hoping to catch something, anything. Police brutality, excessive force against hapless protesters, that kind of exploitation is what gets you the Pulitzer Prize.

Both the police and WRC noticed the reporters and became extremely self-conscious of their actions and mannerisms. Just what an already intense situation needed; media scrutiny, it was no longer a case of simply keeping peace and order but now they have to look good for the cameras while doing so.

The media 'presstitutes' immediately descended upon the protesters, asking inane but pointed questions designed to evoke a response, along with answers just as incendiary and of course, bad-mouthing the police, always bad-mouthing the police. Accusations of a police state, a corporate takeover of Zootopia, the same utterances made by conspiracy theorists since the beginning of time, "The sheep control the media." One protester uttered into the camera.

All this served to do was whip the crowd up into a low fervor. It has been often claimed that the media exists to cover the news, report it, study it, and observe it without interfering. Unfortunately, while that sentiment is all well and good, it's also physically impossible, the act of observing something has an effect on it, subtle but it's there "What you study, you also change". Now while that statement was made by some Zootopian scientists long ago, talking about the interaction of atoms, the same could be applied to societal matters, you cannot study and report on society without causing it to change. Animals will see what you said, and what you wrote and respond to it, and in doing so respond to each other differently than they otherwise would have. Like ripples in a pond, cascading out to unknown shores, a change, a tiny disturbance in the force of nature, that's all it takes. A tiny almost insignificant change in conditions could result in a complete and total change of the system.

The furor had gotten bigger now, the crowd was incensed again, the press' pointed questions made them think things they didn't before, the questions prompted thoughts, and those thoughts prompted rumors, and those rumors became accusations, and it went through the crowd like electricity. Soon those very accusations were being levied at police and WRC. Even more incensed now, they almost dared the WRC or ZPD to do something, the crowd got tight as if expecting something. The push of the crowd was intense, a lion boy, college-aged, no older than 20 popped out of the crowd, accidently pushed by the motions of the animals, he stumbled forward toward the WRC and police.

That's all it took that night, a small change, the wrong thing in exactly the wrong place at the wrong time, and it started, the ripple, starting as a small drop on an endless ocean, the drop falling with gravity toward the serine and flat surface, moving with inevitability as the rising of the sun, or the billowing of the wind. But that's all it was, a small change.

The lion boy no older than 20 years old, 'Zootopia University' it said on his shirt, probably came here with thoughts of "standing up for himself", "standing up for what's right", "taking it to the alpha" and all other sorts of associated naïve nonsense. He probably believed as those who came before him, and those who will come after, that words alone can win revolutions, that there is such a thing as peaceful change.

Change is never peaceful; it's by nature a violent act, because for things to change, the order of the old has to be destroyed, paid for most times with our dearest blood.

A loud crack rang out into the night, a hushed silence moved over everyone there, the looking around, the sharp realization, and then a blood-curdling scream from a woman nearby.

The lion boy lay prostrate on the ground, the round had gone through, with the exit wound in the middle of one of the O's in Zootopia, the blood flowed and pooled out of the wound onto the cold concrete ground.

The silence broke when the protesters lashed out at both WRC and the Police, a riot ensued, gunshots rang out, what was to be a simple protest had now turned into a massacre, and standing there catching it all on glorious 4k Ultra High Definition was the ZTV news camera crew, the horrid sights and sounds captured for posterity and tossed into a library of raw footage to be sliced up for the sales rack.

Meanwhile…

It took Chief Grady and Commander Frost almost a full minute and a half to run down from the Mayor's office. By the time they made it outside to their officers, it was over, 7 dead, and 13 injured, 20 casualties total. The protesters scattered like leaves, dropping their picket signs, and retreated to the nearby park. Some of the injured were because of being shot but not killed, others were trampled by the rush of a crowd trying to get out of the way, and at least two of the dead were so because they were trampled to death.

It was to both of them their worst nightmares come true, the illusion was over; right this minute hundreds of thousands of people in their homes witnessed armed officers with guns, gunning down their fellow citizens in what seemed to be cold blood.

They never did find out who shot the first catalyzing shot, in the chaos of it all, it could have very well been either the WRC or the ZPD, it would take an autopsy to tell, of course, that would take time, the moment was very much still happening.

Chief Grady and Commander Frost questioned their men trying to put it all together, trying to connect one moment to the next, backtracking to the first, of course, the testimonies were conflicting, the fog of moments like these do that, they mess up the memory, in military terms, it's called the fog of war, the uncertainty of moments like these.

War. A term that neither of these two animals would ever hope to be used in reference to their beloved city, yet that is exactly what has occurred, a war of hearts and minds, and maybe even with time, a physical one. Right now almost assuredly, countless citizens are reacting to what their TVs were showing them.

The mayor's office phones rang constantly with thousands of calls pouring in, and the secretaries doing their able best to receive them.

Grady walked up to Frost and stared him right in the face, his teeth gritted and an angry scowl on his face.

"This is exactly why you mammals shouldn't be here," he said

"We don't know what happened, Grady, it could have been a ZPD Officer," replied Frost.

"What?! You dare accuse an officer of the ZPD of starting this crap?!" the cheetah exclaimed.

"Andrew, we don't know."

"If there weren't news cameras here, I would kick your ass for even thinking that."

"I'm not going to apologize for my men protecting themselves, but we need to get to the bottom of this, who fired first and why?"

"Isn't it obvious, your mammals are trained soldiers, as long as nobody sets foot on the Mayor's steps, you don't care who you kill, you get paid either way."

Frost got upset at those words

"You listen to me you little shit, you may have chief's stars on your collar but you certainly as hell didn't earn them, so don't get all high and mighty about my station in life. Our job right now is to work together and find the truth. It's more important than either of us."

Grady calmed down a little bit, regaining some of his composure.

"If I find out that any of you WRC jack-offs had anything to do with this, we will hold you accountable, I don't care what a piece of paper says."

"And if it's an officer, I expect you to use the same fair-headed mindset on them as you do us." Replied Frost

The two parted company and went back to their respective groups of officers. Paramedics and ambulances had arrived to help the injured and the forensic teams and coroner arrived to process the dead. The area had been cordoned off with police tape, WRC and a few police officers were handling crowd control while the police investigators handled the actual crime scene.

"This was a fine mess," Frost thought to himself. This will only incense these animals more, and angry frightened animals were the last thing this city needed. It was only going to cause more trouble. Frost didn't want to say it but he thought that maybe Grady was right, maybe WRC doesn't have any business handling law enforcement and should stick to protection. But at what point does protection cross into law enforcement, and isn't law enforcement protection of the law? Aren't they one and the same? Isn't the whole point of law and order to serve the citizens, to begin with? And when the citizens are being hurt or put in fear to protect the law, then what good is the law? Absolute adherence to the law is nothing more than a form of tyranny, because the spirit of it, at its core, is to serve the people.

These thoughts plagued his mind as he sat in his WRC command cruiser, it was no coincidence that WRC had purchased the exact same make and model of car as the ZPD, save for a few expensive additions that the ZPD didn't have, the car was exactly the same in look except the difference in the paint scheme of grey and orange instead of black and white. The large Wolverine Risk Control logo on the side of the car, the company's motto was 'Protection, Fidelity, and Trust'. Was WRC and by extension himself serving those words, it was times like these that his belief in those words was tested. But he had a responsibility to the males and females under his command; it was his responsibility to be sure, to be confident.

Frost accessed his computer in the cruiser and tapped into the traffic and security cameras, he was both amazed and a little disconcerted that WRC technically had more access than the ZPD when it came to the network, with the ZPD they would have to request access, paperwork, warrants, more paperwork, subpoenas, more paperwork. But since WRC is also part owner in the company that owns and operates the telecommunications network that the cameras operate on, Lucas Technologies Inc., accessing the network was easy because both companies shared login data and network infrastructure. When a college of corporations can perform the same services of government but with frighteningly faster efficiency, what does that say?

Didn't matter, Frost logged in and found the camera data, he tried watching it, and he could hear the sound of the gunshot picked up by the traffic cam's microphone, and see the lion boy fall, and the riot. None of this told him anything he didn't already know. He rewound it and watched it over and over, trying to see if he could pick up some kind of activity, some kind of motion, something that would tell him the answer to his question.

Frost suddenly realized something, an answer to a question he didn't have. In questing for the answer to the question so pertinent to his mind, he missed something else entirely. How was the furor able to get to such a fevered pitch? He studied the traffic cams from different points of view and realized what had happened. The protesters had been accidentally 'Kettled', Kettling is a police tactic in which a large group of people, in this case protesters are contained by cordons of police, so that the group can leave in only one direction, through a police checkpoint in one of the ends of the box.

It was explained as a way to minimize violence and destruction to public property because it allows police to contain these groups in an area of their choosing. The problem with this is that if you trap an animal and make them feel cornered, they are more likely to attack then to not, and so 'Kettling' ends up causing the very riot that it's supposed to avoid, a stupid tactic and was used for many years, and is still used depending on where you go. With the WRC at the Mayor's steps, that was one side of the box, two police lines on either side of the protesters, that's two and three, and the fence behind them preventing escape, that's four.

'A box, No wonder they rioted, it was going to happen' Gideon thought to himself.

'And now people are dead.' He lamented

Life can be broken down into moments, moments of transition, and moments of revelation. To Frost, this had the feeling of both. He could feel it, something was coming, a deep and powerful storm that would change things. 'Grady could feel it too, and maybe that's why he was angry' Frost thought. He was angry because he could feel an end coming, an end to what, neither knew, but it was an end nonetheless like a storm on the horizon, thunder crackling from the distance.

The citizenry was breaking down, it seemed that this idyllic world was slowly becoming something else, the plague simply catalyzed it, causing it to come rushing to the surface. It wasn't a physical thing, and not 'one' particular thing, it was the feeling of persistence, like a shadow cast over the world, darkness.

And it seemed at this moment it was as if the whole world was holding its collective breath, waiting for the turn of the page, one could almost feel the turning, for the next words to appear continuing the story.

"Moments of transition, or moments of revelation." Frost thought

Frost remembered lines from a favorite poet of his that punctuated his sense of foreboding about the future.

"There is a greater darkness than the one we fight. It is the darkness of the soul that has lost its way. The war we fight is not against powers or principalities; it is against chaos and despair. Greater than the death of flesh is the death of hope, the death of dreams. Against this peril, we can never surrender."

"The future is all around us, waiting, in moments of transition, to be born in moments of revelation."

"No one knows the shape of that future or where it will take us. We know only that it is always born in pain."