The Last of its Species

 
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By Nicholas J. Perry © 2001 Click here to e-mail Nicholas

Nicholas J. Perry currently lives with his wife and four cats in San Leandro, Califonia, but will moving to Las Cruces, New Mexcio, USA, shortly after this is published. He is a graduate of the University of Notre Dame and North Carolina Central School of Law. His prior publications include stories in Fantastic Stories of the Immagination, The Minas Tirith Evening Star: Journal of the American Tolkien Society, and Antipodean SF (issue 30). His sequel to Tolkien's Farmer Giles of Ham will be published in serial form by the American Tolkien Society starting in 2002. The work, Prince George of Ham, is based on Tolkien's outline. You can e-mail Nicholas by clicking the postbox icon above.


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"It's hard to imagine we ever feared a species like that," I commented to Dr. Lucertola Stellio.

"This one makes the legends seem ridiculous," she said as we looked into the containment area. "To think that we battled this species in the days of St. George! Look at it. They're not at all as the fantasy novels describe them."

"Still," I said, "it's a shame to kill the last of its species."

"There's no way it can be saved, not since the government proclaimed it a public danger." Lucy squeezed a drop of poison from the syringe. "Look, while it's a shame to kill this ultimate example of the species, it just doesn't belong here -- evolutionarily I mean. It's the only one we've found since the middle ages. It could never adapt to the modern world. Remember, we battled this species in medieval times, and won."

"You sound as if you don't believe the species has a right to exist."

"Not at all," she replied, "but consider also that we may be better off without them. We were barbarous and uncivilized before we defeated them. Art, science, literature -- all that is civilization -- accelerated after dragons and humans stopped fighting each other."

I felt nauseous as I made eye contact with the subject. "I suppose you're right," I said, looking away from the subject's sad eyes, "but must it be done by one of us, by a scientist like yourself? What can you gain by this murder?"

"If I don't do this," she said angrily, "a mob will tear the creature to bits, and it will suffer a painful death. Besides, the government has agreed to let me keep the corpse for research."

I looked at my colleague in shock. "You sold out our profession for the corpse!"

"It dies no matter what. This way, its body can be studied further. I'm doing it for science."

And for the scientific articles you alone will be able to do, I thought. She placed the syringe on a table while she unlocked the door to the containment area.

I picked up the deadly needle. How easy it would be to give Dr. Stellio the injection instead and keep the subject alive. But for how long? The government would search till both the subject and I were dead. I knew I couldn't do it. I handed her the syringe.

I turned away as she entered the containment area to kill the world's only human. I felt disgusted for not stopping her, but perhaps she was right. He had to die. The world had survived and grown a good deal since dragons won control of the world in the middle ages. The world was ours, and ours alone.

 

 

 

 
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