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Sunshine and Bunnies

The right rabbit lurks.  The left rabbit, larger than the overturned semi-trailer it crouches behind, and the only greenish thing in sight, doesn’t bother so much.

Bren stands in the middle of a clearing in the ruins and rubble, and tries not to be seen.  The potent sun marks a black shadow to his side.

He  volunteered to come up. He was just so damn sick of the bunkers and the tunnels and the fluorescent lights.  Sick especially of the movies and documentaries and TV shows made about the surface world, before the rabbit-warren cities had to be dug.  Sick and tired of reading about it.  He wanted to see it; he needed some air.  No matter how poisonous it might be.

The protective suit itches.  It’s hot.  The sunlight is something else.

The right rabbit takes a hopping stride out of the shadows.  It lifts its normal-sized body onto its haunches, and tips its head to regard Bren with one eye.

And speaks.  “Excuse me! Excuse me there, Spaceman!  Might you be one of the creatures from the videos?”

Bren chooses not to respond, or move.

“It’s just that you have a sort of humanoid outline.  According to the documentaries, your species used to be widespread across the planet? Did you know that?  You’re not now though!  Hello?”

Bren takes a single step back.  The left rabbit shifts its purplish-green bulk.  The container on the semi-trailer creaks.  Now Bren decides it’s a good idea to take another step back.

“Well for an extinct species, you’re not very sociable!  My brother and I, as representatives of the new dominant species of Earth, are just trying to be polite!”

Bren takes a few more backwards steps, then turns and sprints the rest of the way to the hatch that will lead him back down into the cool fluorescent lights and reprocessed air.

 

* * *

 

“So?  How’d it go?  What’s it like topside?”

“Yeah.  Nah.  I wouldn’t leave the burrows just yet.  It’s still pretty radioactive up there.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

The hatch swings shut.  The echoes lose momentum in the long, dark tunnel to the surface. No one hears.

The right rabbit lurks.

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