Spoons

The shinyroundonstick was the key to everything. It made digging easier — with patience, one of the People could carve a whiskerwide hole through materials that tooth and claw could barely scratch. And by some magic, when the stick–end was wedged into a crack and one or more of the People pushed on the roundthing, their strength was magnified many times.

Chktaqueep had first dragged a shinyroundonstick with him to a nest of the People many generations ago. He had spent much of his life learning to use his prize as an extension of his teeth and forelimbs, and had tried to pass on what he had discovered to other People. Sadly, it seemed that only Chktaqueep's own offspring were able to absorb their father's knowledge; other nestmates only sniffed the shinyroundonstick, perhaps tasted it to see if it was food, or had food on it, then skittered away.

But the shinyroundonstick gave a big advantage to those who understood its magic, and Chktaqueep's descendants prospered and spread from nest to nest. Better fed and more intelligent than any People they encountered, they soon dominated any group they met — and at the first opportunity, they set out to acquire more shinyroundonsticks…

Jake Willard stared down at the flatware tray in consternation. "Honey, why are there only three teaspoons? Didn't this set come with eight place–settings?"

From the next room, Amanda Willard replied, "I think the kids keep taking them out in the yard to dig. Thank god we keep the real silverware out of their reach!"

Jake sighed, closing the drawer. "I'll pick up another set at the dollar store. No sense in paying a lot for something that's just going to disappear overnight."

"Pick up some mousetraps and another box of steel wool while you're there," Amanda said. "I found another hole in the wall under the sink."

Jake knelt, opening the cupboard door and peering into the shadowy space under the sink. "No," he grunted, "that's the same hole. I think the little blighters have figured out a way to push or pull the steel wool out without having to taste it or cut their paws."

"Lovely. We have smart rodents," Amanda said. "I wonder if it would help to get a cat?"

"Allergies, Mandy," Jake said. "I'm allergic to cat fur, and I like Angie is, too."

"How about one of those hairless cats — what are they called? Sphinxes!"

"I think I'd rather live with the mice, or rats, or whatever this is. Those things creep me out."

"Twenty–six seconds — a new U. Melbourne record! Maybe even All–Australia!" Bill Disney clapped his hands and danced a clumsy jig as he read the latest results from the computer–timed maze run.

"That's only the second time Number 43 has seen that layout, right?" Jennifer Dillon shook her head in astonishment. "Maybe we didn't clean it well enough and he's just following his own scent trail."

Bill grinned. "No scent trail. This is the same layout as Maze Variant — uh, 214B — but it's brand–new — built from scratch."

Jennifer whistled. "Then Number 43 is one genius of a rat. The cerebral enhancement gene therapy is really working."

"That it is," Bill said. "But according to Doctor Gigio's lab notes, Number 43's great–great–great–grand … uncle, I think — one of the first subjects of the treatment — might have been even smarter."

"Great–et cetera–granduncle? Didn't they use the super–rat for breeding before they cut him up to study his little brains?"

"They never got to autopsy him. He got away."

Jennifer shivered. "And the enhancements seem to breed true. Can you imagine how hard it would be to control the rat population if they were all that smart?"

Chktatreekachrr sniffed at the wickedly pointed end of the old shinyroundonstick, his sensitive nose detecting the musty odors of old wood and soil and mildew, tantalizing hints of redfruit and crumblesweet, and under it all, the sour tang that only shinystuff carried. This one had been used many times to dig and to pry, and had worn down until its tip was as sharp as the teeth of one of the People. He poked at the tip with his forepaw, chittering in pain and jumping back as it pierced his flesh.

Dimly, he saw images of a bigfur pouncing on one of his nestmates in a raid that had ended badly. Bigfurs had teeth and claws larger and sharper than those of the People to go along with their much greater size.

But now this shinyroundonstick was like a tooth even larger than a bigfur tooth. People could use a shinyroundonstick like this one to dig and pry not at soil or wood, but at flesh. Rival nests could be bitten into submission. Even bigfurs could be driven away, or even killed…

"Mommy! Tom is dead! Mrs. Barbera's cat is all dead! He's lying in the garden all dead!"

Amanda Dillon cursed under her breath and rushed out through the kitchen door. This was not the way she had planned to teach her youngest daughter about death.

Probably the King's dog got him, she thought. They're always letting that beast run loose!

But Tom, the Barbera's venerable old cat, hadn't been killed by a dog, not unless dogs were carrying shivs these days. There was something shiny sticking out of Tom's side. One end was rounded. The other end was buried deep in Tom's blood–matted fur.

"What the hell?" Amanda gasped. "Who could have done this? And what is that thing in poor Tom's ribs?"

Before Amanda could pull Angie away, the little girl had dropped to her knees to take a closer look. She poked at the shiny thing, frowning, then looked up at Amanda and asked "Is that a spoon, Mommy?"

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