If the Zoo Fits

By Pamela Love

Doc Sklodowski’s forehead furrowed as he examined me in Martian General Hospital’s clinic. “I’ve never seen anything like this on a scalp—or anywhere outside of a photo. Are those bruises what they look like, Mr. Enza? They can’t be.”

I winced as my head throbbed. “Oh, yes they can. Let me tell you what happened.”

***

No sooner had I walked into the Martian Zoo this morning than its lights flickered out. Since it’s indoors, and a sky view won’t happen until twenty years from now according to the Martian Council’s Development Plan, darkness fell. Several people did too, judging by the thumps.

The front gate slid shut, hard. The AI announced, “Lockdown. The lighting will be restored shortly. All visitors, don’t move. Stay calm. Wait for our staff to direct you.”

“You’re a Mr. Fixit type, right?” A tall, skinny guy shone a mini light at my toolbox and rapped his knuckles on it. “Let me out, okay? Fifty credits. I’m a busy man. Got places to go, things to do.”

“Me too.” Which was true—I’d been hired to perform routine maintenance on multiple zoo systems and stuff. Now I had an emergency repair job on top of that. I shouldered past him.

Dr. Bui, the zoo’s chief zoologist—even taller than the busy businessman, and a lot busier, I’d bet—wove her way through the crowd. Wisps of white hair stuck out from under her helmet with its large headlight. She handled guests like they were the zoo’s herd of Martian mustangs, with firm, low-key orders and care not to step on anybody.

She nodded at me. “Perfect timing, Mr. Enza.”

No, perfect timing would’ve been you scheduling me for an earlier visit, so this blackout could’ve been prevented. Activating my sleevelights with a tap, I headed for the utilities room.

Scanning the electrical system, I found a severed wire. Making a mental note to investigate how that had happened, I got to work. Replacing it took five minutes, but judging by the cheers when I restored the lights, it must’ve felt like five hours for folks waiting outside.

“Lockdown is over.” More shouts of approval—until the alarms started blaring.

“They’re loose! Look out! Shut the gate!”

Everybody screamed, likely scared that the zoo’s mini-fauna were going to get trampled. Which was reasonable—wasn’t their biggest animal a guinea-pig-sized rhino? It seemed kind of a shame to genetically engineer them that small, but Mars doesn’t have the space or resources Earth does, so they had to make their animals small enough to fit.

***

“Really? I didn’t hear about any of this. That’s terrible.” The doctor frowned. “I hope none of the animals were harmed. Mars Colony does cherish our zoo. We devote a large percentage of our resources to it.”

“I know. There’s a sign on the zoo’s gate: If the Zoo Fits, Share It!”

***

Anyway, when all the doors popped open, including the one to the utilities room—really poor systems design there—I remembered that guy at the gate. Two breakdowns? So close together? Suspicious, I grabbed a wrench and turned around slowly, checking for saboteurs. That didn’t take long—the room lacked any good hiding places. I did locate a second wiring break, which I also fixed.

What’s that? A tiny, white, furry blur had dashed behind a heating control unit. Should’ve shut the door, Enza. I shut it then, so whatever it was wouldn’t get hurt in the chaos outside, and left a message on Dr. Bui’s comm link. She was too busy to answer; no surprise.

Sympathizing with the creature, I stayed by the door so I didn’t agitate it more. I tried to sound like Dr. Bui. “Are you a polar bear?” I racked my brains for other white animals. “A sheep?”

The door swung open again. It was my assistant, Becker. I’d left him to arrange lunch for me—about all I could trust him with. “Joe, the zookeeperess asked me to tell you—” He shrieked.

A tiny tiger had bounded through his legs, pursuing the mystery creature. Dumping out my toolbox, I trapped the un-big cat underneath it. Snarling, the beast inside clawed at its unexpected prison.

I turned and snarled at Becker. “Zookeeperess? It’s zoologist. Dr. Bui’s got more degrees than a Fahrenheit thermometer.”

“Sorry. Anyway, she said there’s trouble in that conduit.” He pointed to an access panel in the middle of the floor outside. “She saw sparks.”

Grabbing what equipment I figured I’d need, I sprinted to the access tunnel, wary not to step on anything. Its door was still wide open. I wrapped some electrical tape around the loose connection, preventing an open flame. Then I climbed several rungs down the ladder to switch off the power at the source.

While I was working, a wolfpack—if two are a pack—chased a herd—if four are a herd—of mini mustangs. The pocket-sized ponies stampeded over my head. Ow. I ducked. The wolves swerved around the hole in the floor. “Gotcha!” Bui’s staff nabbed them all in a pair of cages. They were the last zoo animals to be caught. None were injured.

***

“So these are little hoofprints on your scalp.” Doc Sklodowski chuckled.

I didn’t. “Yeah.”

“Did they catch the saboteur? And what did the mysterious white animal turn out to be?”

“That animal was the saboteur—a mouse that had been nibbling on the wiring. Not a genetically engineered one, just an escapee from a Martian lab.” I shook my head. “Mice are always trouble. But they did catch it, with my help. I improvised a mousetrap for them—or should I say a Marstrap?”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Pamela Love was born in New Jersey and worked as a teacher and in marketing before becoming a writer. Her work has appeared in Havok, Page & Spine, and Luna Station Quarterly. She is the 2020 winner of the Magazine Merit Fiction Award for her story “The Fog Test,” which appeared in Cricket. She and her family live in Maryland.

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