Jasper Fforde - The Constant Rabbit

‘I’m a Spotter from RabCoT in Hereford,’ I said in a low voice. ‘Just don’t yell it out. Lugless here works out of our office.’

‘That’s good,’ said the second officer, who then made a phone call to check out my credentials, and once this was done he let us both in.

‘Thanks for that,’ said Harvey once we were out of earshot. ‘Our faith in you was justified.’

And we parted, Harvey walking off towards one of the factory units, and me to where everyone was congregated around Mr Ffoxe, Pandora Pandora and, in an unexpected personal appearance, Prime Minister Nigel Smethwick himself.

I entered the back of the crowd, where Pandora Pandora was giving an address.

‘… the building you saw outside is the centralised head office of the Rabbit Compliance Taskforce, and will be featuring impressive IT capabilities to safely administer to the million or so guests we are expecting, and to ensure that legal off-colony movement is both efficient and easily enforced. I would also like to point out that the presence of the Taskforce will bring much-needed jobs to the area, and will continue to do so for the foreseeable future, one of the many ways in which the presence of MegaWarren is benefitting the local community.’

She went on to talk about how the 800-million-pound project was completed in under two years, thanked the Welsh government for their support, and especially the two hundred or so residents who were relocated to make way for the facility. She then handed over to Nigel Smethwick, who had been eager to receive the microphone for some time. He started off by saying what a pleasure it was to see so many journalists and dedicated Taskforce professionals, and how MegaWarren would offer something that all the residents of the United Kingdom wanted: a safe place for rabbits from which they could use their many skills to usefully contribute to the UK’s economy. He talked about himself and his achievements quite a lot, and eventually said that we could go wherever we wanted. He then asked, somewhat reluctantly, whether there were any questions.

‘When do the rabbit arrive?’ asked a journalist at the back.

The Senior Group Leader answered the question.

‘We will expect,’ said Mr Ffoxe, ‘to start inviting early beta-tester rabbits to move in in about two weeks. Travel will be free to all voluntarily participating rabbits, and generous early relocation payments will be forthcoming at a level which is yet to be decided. The first to arrive will be given the best homes and plots.’

‘The Grand Council of Coneys have long insisted,’ said a BBC journalist at the front, ‘that the colonies are little more than gilded workhouses, and have vowed to resist a move to MegaWarren. Do you have any comment on that?’

‘ Timendi causa est nescire ,’ he replied; ‘the cause of fear is ignorance. The old colonies are currently unfit for purpose. They are crowded, unsanitary and often situated in places where the soil is sub-standard and burrow collapse a very real and pressing problem. MegaWarren has been specifically designed with the well-being of the rabbit in mind, and as soon as word gets out about how wonderfully fabulous it is, the rabbit will be heading over here in droves.’

‘I’ve heard the speeches,’ said the same BBC reporter, ‘but what about the Grand Council’s reservations?’

The fox looked testily at the reporter, but he smiled broadly and brought his considerable charm to bear.

‘It is indeed a great shame that the Council of Coneys have decided to be so pointlessly obstructive over the issue,’ said Mr Ffoxe, ‘but you must understand that the rabbit does not reason in the same way as the human. They have a simplistic, childlike approach to politics, and reluctantly we have decided that it is necessary to undertake changes for their own good, either with their agreement or not.’

‘It looks like a prison to me,’ said another journalist, who had sounded more pro-MegaWarren on the bus, but may have been doing so, it seemed, to actually get an invite, ‘and rabbits are known to be stubborn and will, if pushed, invoke their “Bugs Bunny Protocol” and meet force with force. What if they refuse to be moved at all?’

‘They won’t,’ said Nigel Smethwick, taking the microphone. ‘A recent poll conducted by UKARP indicates that ninety-seven per cent of rabbits will be overjoyed to move here. The three per cent of troublemakers whom it will be impossible to convince of our magnanimity may have to be re-educated to persuade them that a non-compliant stance would not be in the best interests of rabbit/human relations. The Rehoming policy is not leporiphobic, it is simply in the best interests of all our species groups. We like rabbits,’ he added, ‘but we like compliant rabbits the most, in a homeland that best suits their needs.’

‘We should add,’ said Mr Ffoxe, ‘that rabbits are currently not legally defined as human, so it must be appreciated that what we are doing shows an unprecedented level of compassion and understanding of animal rights. We would like our good intentions to be noted, and at the very minimum, repaid with simple gratitude as good manners dictate. Goats, sheep, chickens, ducks, cows and pigs – actually, most other animals, I hardly need point out – have never, and will never, receive a similar level of care.’

Oddly, there was a murmuring of agreement at this. There were more questions over cost overruns, and whether the site could be expanded, all of which were expertly evaded or obscured by either Smethwick, Pandora Pandora or Mr Ffoxe. Finally, someone asked the question that I would have asked, if I’d been permitted, or braver.

‘What about the hundred thousand legal off-colony rabbits?’

It was a tricky question, and Ffoxe and Smethwick looked at one another, then passed the microphone to Pandora Pandora.

‘MegaWarren is available to all rabbits, irrespective of status,’ she said, ‘and we are fully confident that all off-colony rabbits will be only too happy to relocate here once they see just how wonderful it is.’

‘What if they don’t?’ asked someone.

‘If there are no more questions,’ said Pandora Pandora, ‘please feel free to wander around the facility and ask as many questions as you like – lunch will be served at 1 p.m. in the Palace of Creative Joy.’

The group broke up and I made to move away but Whizelle caught my eye and walked over.

‘Hello, Knox,’ he said, ‘what do you think of it all?’

‘Impressive, sir,’ I replied, as weasels, like foxes, were never ones to cross.

‘Attractive to rabbits?’

‘Definitely.’

‘Conducive to happiness and high productivity?’

‘I hope so.’

‘Good. Listen, have you noticed anything odd about Lugless this morning?’

I felt my heart start to beat faster and resisted a temptation to scratch my nose or look away.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Odd. Different. Seems … distracted. I went to speak to him about a case we were discussing yesterday and he kind of looked through me.’

‘I’ve known him less than a month,’ I said, ‘and he seems as unpleasant now as when I first met him.’

‘Humph,’ said Whizelle, then thanked me and moved away. I made a quick exit too, just in case he wanted to question me further.

I wandered into the Palace of Creative Joy, which was actually one of the factories in which the rabbits would build vacuum cleaners, microwave ovens, kitchen appliances and car engines. There were four of these buildings, all huge, and subcontractors from RabToil were busily installing the moving assembly lines. I could see CCTV cameras everywhere, and knew that this alone could be a deal-breaker. None of the colonies had a single camera. Rabbits hated being surveilled. I suddenly had the strongest feeling that for all the planning and money and effort, not a single rabbit would ever move here. Or at least, not by their own choice.