Free Carmen Dog by Carol Emshwiller Page B

level at which the baby will begin to cry. He hopes, then, to be able to turn the crying on and off by the push of a button. Meanwhile Pooch continuously makes that funny, throaty sound. It is only when the baby is quite suddenly crying vigorously with hurt and frustration, tired of the game, not stopping even with the shocks completely turned off, and when Pooch is almost through the already cut straps, that the doctor suddenly realizes: My God, 107! She's barking!
    At that moment Pooch is full of such mixed feelings she doesn't know what she will do. Her teeth have never once been used, even when she was a baby, for anything more savage than pulling on a rag or chewing an old shoe, but now she must ... yes, it is the only answer. Besides, when she thinks of what has happened to her voice, that she would have died for, and that she would also willingly die for the baby.... And what's to lose, when she already has Isabel's reputation? Loyalty is a trap, she thinks, and the doctor has saved us only for torture and death as with poor Basenji. Attack, then. The throat, the shoulder. She had not known she had such strength, the bonds broken already, and so easily! The doctor on the floor, Pooch doesn't stop to see if he's dead or alive. She pushes the latch of the testing cage, grasps the baby in her teeth, and, ignoring the system of steps put out for her, she makes that extraordinary leap up to and through the open basement window, the baby shouting, “No, no, no, no,” at the top of its voice.
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Chapter 8: Escamillo!
    The more they sink, the more fervently glow their eyes....
    â€”Friedrich Nietzsche
    At the moment there are several murderers at large. One of them is Isabel (the real Isabel). She had come close to murder several times before, as might be guessed. And she has maimed, though never so seriously that the victim couldn't be rehabilitated and function almost at his former level. Some of these episodes happened before she had even remotely come to resemble a wolverine. But now she has killed and has taken off toward Central Park in hope of escape even though she is, in her present state, only vaguely aware of the magnitude of her crime and therefore probably could not be punished for it should it ever come to trial. (It could easily be proved, however, that Pooch understands at all times what she is doing.)
    Considering the situation, it is actually surprising that there haven't been more murders and more serious maimings. Several of the misadventures that have occurred were clearly inadvertent, the creatures not realizing their own strength or the sharpness of their teeth and claws. They were as horrified as anyone to find the damage they had done. Of course this is not always the case, for there are those, like Isabel, who have never been particularly gentle individuals and who are very pleased with their newfound fiercenesses.
    As one might surmise, while Isabel did get to the Plaza, she did not stay there long. At the first sight of her, two large men in uniforms with gold braid asked her to leave, and no small wonder. Isabel was looking quite disreputable, trailing wood chips, and although her hair is short and fits around her head like a little black cap, it had been neither combed nor washed for days and stuck out in clumps in several directions. She had long ago discarded her silver high-heeled shoes as too confining and was now comfortably barefoot. There were vestiges of heavy makeup smeared about her face, the black from around her eyes having somehow gotten around her mouth and the red from her lips having somehow gotten around her eyes.
    "Is good,” Isabel told the two uniformed men. “Fine. Find. Must meet. One. Or two men."
    Hearing her guttural, garbled speech, the men grabbed her and tried to push her out, but she broke free and raced around the lobby knocking over people and furniture quite like the animal that she most resembles. Then she made a dash