“MY NAME IS TIMOTHY BLACK FLETCHER.

His head went under the water, before popping up, his neck extended to keep his mouth and nose above water. “I came here with Oakley and the Doctor!” he gasped.

“For what?” asked a cold, robotic voice.

Timothy hesitated for only a second.

“Adding fifty more gallons of water,” the voice said.

“Okay! Okay!” Timothy cried, panicked. The water level rose. The ceiling was only a foot away. His head disappeared again. “Please stop!” he gasped when he came back up.

“Adding ten more gallons of water.”

“I was looking for Marine Nick Lucifay! Oakley said there was ferret blood at the scene and—” his voice became inaudible as water entered his mouth. He trod water and fought as long as he could, before disappearing once and for all in a mass of bubbles.

Exflibberaguil watched from a separate room. He had been moved via the same sleeping gas to a mini-submarine. The interior of the submarine was very much like the room he exited. The only differences were a wall of unbreakable glass and a white chair he was strapped to. The submarine moved with a mind of its own, and there was no sign of the control room. Exflibberaguil spotted signs of other submarines Oakley and the Doctor were in, but they were always within ten meters of each other.

“Oh, let him out. He’ll die,” Exflibberaguil pleaded.

The rabbit had told him each submarine had a separate rabbit to commentate. He was assigned to the female one he had always been with.

“A pathetic plead,” she said.

“I would be on my knees and beg,” Exflibberaguil replied, “but it will be quite impossible to do so strapped.”

The rabbit laughed shrilly. “Trying to escape again? I tell you, even if you did get out of your straps, you still wouldn’t be able to go. The glass is even stronger than the metal walls.”

“I accept the challenge,” Exflibberaguil said hopefully.

The rabbit laughed again. “Ha! Funny! What is the saying… Fat chance!” She sighed after a moment. “I suppose he isn’t doing very well, is he? We have no use for a corpse in this ship, I suppose. Drain the water!” she called to someone.

The submarine began returning to its original port, where Exflibberaguil had no doubt he would be gassed and moved again. This was the first ‘test’ the rabbit hinted she wanted to perform. None of the Sodriew knew what was happening, and Exflibberaguil had a suspicion that they wouldn’t have believed him anyway. Timothy was lifted to a platform via a metal claw, and a robot wearing what looked like boxing gloves was performing CPR efficiently. Exflibberaguil deduced he was in a room above the submarine itself, so he was able to see above the water.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

As the vehicle speeded by the platform, Exflibberaguil could already see Timothy coughing up water. Strangely enough, he didn’t think the rabbits would let the Odriew die so easily. He wasn’t sure why, but his gut told him that the other Sodriew were safe from any fatal danger. He couldn’t say the same for himself, of course, but then again, he did kill several rabbits when he escaped.

When the submarine neared its station, Exflibberaguil caught a glimpse of Oakley’s submarine, and his theory was confirmed. She was situated in a little box on top of the submarine itself and was able to see above water. The sleeping gas seemed to have been released earlier for her, and her eyes were already closed. Exflibberaguil couldn’t detect any trace of the gas in his submarine yet, but he supposed the delayed symptoms might have something to do with Mustela’s natural ability to build a tolerance against harmful toxins.

However, minutes based without Exflibberaguil feeling the slightest bit tired. Strangest of all, the rabbit didn’t talk for the long minutes. Exflibberaguil didn’t want to begin the conversation, in worry that he may sound too desperate for communication, but he felt there was a need to question his circumstances.

“Er, as much as I hate the gas and falling asleep,” Exflibberaguil began, suddenly feeling very foolish for talking to the air, “but why hasn’t the gas come yet? Did you make a mistake?”

“I don’t make mistakes,” the rabbit replied coldly.

“Oh!” Exflibberaguil said, rather taken aback. “Al—alright then.” After a moment’s pause, Exflibberaguil realized his question hadn’t been answered. He hesitated, wondering if he dared to repeat his question, before asking cautiously, “So, why am I not asleep yet?”

“Why did you lie?”

“Lie? Me?” Exflibberaguil exclaimed. It was such an out-of-the place question that Exflibberaguil, forgot that his question was still unanswered. “Me? Where—when did I lie?”

“The forgetting machine of yours does not work. Your human friend is fine.”

“W-what are you talking about?” Exflibberaguil asked.

Somehow, the rabbit’s silence was even more frightening than a loud, outrages outburst.

“Oh, of course,” Exflibberaguil muttered to himself. “You much have put Timothy through the machine. That’s why you forced answers out of him.” Then, out loud, he said, “Oh! Right! The forgetting machine! Well, It works perfectly fine if you hadn’t tried it on such a high setting. I purposely disabled those after the last time Nick fiddled with them. It ended up very unsatisfactorily.”

“Then why didn’t the bot tell us?”

Exflibberaguil shrugged, though his arms were tied to the chair. “I didn’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. Distractions. Anyhow,” Exflibberaguil continued, a little too casually, “I’m sure you rabbits are smart enough to figure out how to fix it on your own. Why are you asking me?”

“Did you build this machine?” The rabbit asked, ignoring Exflibberaguil’s questions.

“Can’t remember. Why?”

“Since when did you have it?”

Exflibberaguil attempted another shrug. “Look, you know I don’t have the best of memories.”

The rabbit went silent again. Exflibberaguil was becoming increasingly worried. The rabbit had always been sarcastic and irritating, but she never ran out of things to say. This time, Exflibberaguil didn’t provoke conversation. Finally, the rabbit said, “You’re right.”

“What”

“You have a terrible memory. But I know someone who does have a good one.”

“Eh?” Exflibberaguil asked.

“Your little robot friend. Good night, I won’t be needing you anymore.”

Exflibberaguil heard a little puff and knew with certainty that the sleeping gas was being let in again. “Hey!” he said, already beginning to feel drowsy. “It won’t remember anything! Its memory was wiped too! Don’t harass Box!”

“Oh, you needn’t worry about your robot’s memory,” the rabbit replied. “Just like you said before, we rabbits are smart enough to recover it. Sleep tight.”

Exflibberaguil mumbled a few more unintelligible protests, before finally succumbing to the forced sleep.