by Danny
Danny Hearn:
A sign towers above me: "The La Perdita Wildlife Sanctuary."
I decided to indulge myself in some tourism, and so here I am. I look down at the brochure in my hand.
"Established in 1973 as a refuge for a few rare species of endangered animals, the La Perdita Wildlife Sanctuary has since grown to become a home for more than two dozen varieties of animals from all over the world. The Sanctuary has proven to be one of the island's most popular tourist destinations and attracts countless visitors every year."
I walk through the open gates, handing five American dollars to a man at the ticket booth. He stamps my hand, smiles, and lets me in.
"This is amazing."
"I know, Hal."
"We don't have anything like this in 2083."
"I know."
He's right. We don't. Conserving endangered species took a back seat to progress in terms of humanity's collective ideals. In many ways, the humans of the past are more advanced than the humans of my present.
Well, I guess now is as good a time as any for some practice.
An emu stands in its enclosure, foraging about in the grass. It looks up when it realizes I'm there and cocks its head to the side. Given the emu's rather long neck, this act is almost comical.
"Beak," I say. Hal complies, and after a moment of pain and shifting molecules, my face has been given an emu's beak.
"Feathers," I say, the word sounding mumbled and incoherent through the beak. Hal knows what I mean, at least. Again, the pain comes, and then my body is covered in feathers.
At least I'm getting used to the pain. It doesn't seem so bad any more.
I decide not to try for emu's legs. I don't want to have to take off my shoes.
A small child looks at me with an expression of shock and confusion on his face. I quickly tell Hal to retract my new features.
I wander over to the enclosure that seems to house some sort of moose. One of the moose (Mooses? Meese?) is standing under a tree near me.
"Moose antlers," I say.
A second later, I become top heavy and fall to the ground.
"Reverse," I mumble and pick myself back up. Note to self: center of gravity changes when you grow something heavy on yourself. Got to work on those balance issues.
I wander for hours, trying out new animal parts at every cage I come to. Monkey's tails. Bird's wings (I can fly! How cool is that?). Lizard's scales. Crocodile's teeth (cut my gum pretty bad).
The sanctuary is huge, covering several square kilometers of the island. The enclosures are all huge, and each is designed specifically for its animal. They obviously have the best interests of the animals in mind, trying to conserve them, trying to breed them. I notice that a large portion of the animals are injured, apparently being nursed back to health before being released into the wild. And, once again, I'm reminded of just how different this time is to my own.
I wonder what the time is? I need to know the time. I decide to ask a stranger.
"Excuse me, do you know the time?" I say to a man who passes me.
"It's four-thirty, buddy," he says, checking his watch.
"Thanks."
I should head back to the apartments. I head for the park's exit, but on the way, I pass the giraffe enclosure. I just have to try it, just this once.
A moment later, I'm looking down at all the onlookers. It's amazing how many shocked and confused faces you can see when your head is up this high.
I reverse the neck and head on home.