Emto

By M. Beaufort

She is small, covered in dark fur, and knows no life outside of a cage.

She was born for one purpose: to be a tiny dot of data on a graph.

This experiment could make or break Henry's career. But at what cost?

As Henry wrestles with his conscience, she dreams of freedom.

 

This realistic tale of a laboratory mouse and an animal researcher explores the ethical dilemmas found in animal research. Issues of animal experimentation, euthanasia, and unethical research are touched on, seen through the eyes of a mouse. Appropriate for older teens and young adults.

• Language: English
• Publisher: M. Beaufort
• Release date: Jul 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201710453

Book preview

1

Female C57 black 6J mice were randomly allocated to IVCs.

—  A statement found in the Professor’s latest publication, describing how the experiment was performed.

She sniffs. Her nose points ceilingwards, twitching. Her black eyes are open wide.

This home smells new. The sweet smell of dried corn cobs fills her nostrils as she breathes rapidly inwards. She smells and tastes the air. Clean and sweet and unfamiliar scents fill her nose.

Looking around, she sees warm dark bodies and pink noses sniffing, tasting. Five other bodies with glossy black fur and quivering whiskers. Their strong tails curve elegantly, snaking behind them.

She looks floorwards and holds her nose close to the ground, hovering above the corn cobs beneath her. Sweet and rough and hard and yellow. Her paws delicately take a piece of corn cob, and she bites it, nibbling with her strong teeth. Her teeth crush and grind the cob. She feels the corn paste in her mouth turn glue-like as it mixes with her saliva. This is not good food.

She drops the half-eaten piece of corn cob and places her front paws on the floor, hunching over slightly. Walking clumsily forward, the corn cobs scatter as she steps: one pad, two pads, three pads, four. Raising her tail high, she walks easier, her balance improved. Confident, she begins to run.

Round she runs, as fast as her limbs can carry her. She circles once, twice, three times.

As suddenly as she began, she stops, eyes wide and searching. She has run the full length and width of her new home and travelled as far as the yellow cobs cover. She looks ceilingwards again.

This new home is no bigger than her old home.

A soft whisker tickles her cheek. The whisker belongs to a dark face with dark eyes, and she sees her own face reflected in the eyes. They look alike; they could be sisters.

‘Hello,’ the face whispers.

‘Is this your home?’

She pauses, thinking. Her tongue darts out and she licks her front paws and brushes her ears, smoothing the hairs down.

‘I think so,’ she murmurs, feeling less sure than she sounds. ‘It is a new home.’

Her companion’s nose twitches, considering her answer.

‘It is a new home for me too.’

Their eyes dart around, as if refreshing their memory.

‘It smells sweet and clean and new. Can we go further?’

The figure turns away and their paws curiously brush against the corn cobs at their feet. They push the cobs behind them, scooping and swinging. Their paws move faster and faster, digging through the cobs.

She moves away, deftly avoiding the corn cobs being flung through the air. She looks to see the other four figures. Most of them are now digging. They are digging with urgency, digging with hope, digging with curiosity. She knows what they are hoping: they are hoping to find crisp cold air and inky black nights and soft familiar nests. A voice within them longs for these unknown visions. They have never felt air colder than warm or seen nights without a yellow glow bleeding through the cracks in the door frame.

There is never enough space for these imaginations. She turns away and does not dig with them.

‘That’s the last of them,’ a low voice is heard, muffled and from a distance.

‘Twenty cages of six for Professor Joan’s order. Pop them on the rack for her.’

A higher-pitched voice murmurs in response. Her ears are alert now, but she could not understand what was said. Cages of six? She looks over her shoulder at the other five still digging through the corn cobs.

The displaced cobs piling at the edge of the hole slide back down as they dig. No progress is made, and they dig even faster. They are still hopeful.

A large shadow moves over them, dimming her view. She looks ceilingward and sees a distorted pink face, large and flat. The face has a piece of blue fabric covering its lower half. She can see the eyes. The eyes do not see her.

‘It’s so funny the way they muck about in the new cages.’

The blue fabric moves; their mouth must be under it. ‘Like they’re making it homey, right? They’re digging like crazy!’

’Yeah,’ the lower-pitched voice calls, sounding more distant than before. She cannot see the owner of this voice.

‘Check on all the cages after this and then you can finish up. I’m heading off, need to beat the traffic.’

‘Okay.’

She hears the loud thud of a heavy door closing. The unseen voice has left. She glances behind her at her five companions and sees that they are still digging, but with less enthusiasm than before. They are slowly realising that there is nowhere else to go. She moves to the edge of the corn cobs, where the smooth clear wall stops her. She cannot see far beyond the wall, and all is distorted — large shapes, shadows, and blurry edges.

The pink half-face has vanished from the ceiling, and she sees a blue shape moving slowly, going back and forth.

Losing interest in the movements beyond the invisible wall, she moves to the centre of her new home. A long silver pipe hangs into the empty space, and she