by Laura Bernardeschi Nelson
Before the heavy bus could carry them back to the suffocating confines of the Grey Reign, Madame Bulk issued a sudden, unexpected decree.
The official explanation was that production metrics had shown a decline in efficiency. The creatures were becoming distracted, irritated, and dangerously close to developing independent thoughts. Therefore, Madame Bulk had decided that a brief exposure to open air—rather than the stale, recirculated air of the Great Stone Burrow’s endless corridors—might stimulate the stagnant brain cells of the mice and soothe the dangerously agitated tempers of the Rhinoceros and the Hippopotamus.
The fact that nobody had asked for this excursion was considered irrelevant. In the Grey Reign, decisions were not made according to desire. They were made according to what Madame Bulk believed was necessary.
The bus itself was a perfect representation of the system. It had not been designed for journeys or discoveries. It had been designed for approved movement between approved locations. A spontaneous stop, an unexpected view, or a place that encouraged imagination were all considered suspicious activities. Control was much safer than curiosity.
The bus finally stopped near an open-air art exhibition, where strange sculptures stood against the overcast sky like visitors from another world.
The Praying Mantis remained behind the wheel. She did not move. She sat perfectly straight, her front limbs locked around the steering wheel, her expression serious and unreadable. The outside world was far too unpredictable. There were no forms to complete, no permissions to request, and no procedures explaining how one should react to clouds, trees, or fresh air. She simply stared ahead, silently judging the weather for failing to follow a timetable.
The rest of the group slowly stepped down from the bus like confused captives entering an unfamiliar arena.
While the mice huddled together in quiet terror, paralyzed by the sheer absence of concrete walls and artificial light, the Sheep reacted differently. Despite the crushing weight of her grey wool and the giant blonde wig balanced on her head—with two pigeons quietly nesting inside it—she suddenly became full of energy. She moved from sculpture to sculpture with unusual excitement, looking around with the enthusiasm of someone who had briefly escaped her normal routine.
She stopped in front of a collection of tall salt sculptures. The shapes were delicate and almost impossible to understand. They looked fragile but powerful, as if they had been created from something temporary and yet intended to last forever. The Sheep looked around carefully to ensure Madame Bulk was not watching. Then, unable to resist, she quickly leaned forward and, with a quick, sly dart of her rough tongue, secretly licked a small piece from the base of one sculpture.
The taste surprised her. It was real. It was sharp. It was something not created by a committee, not approved by a department, and not distributed in a grey package. For a moment, she experienced something close to happiness. Then she immediately looked guilty. Even a tiny act of pleasure felt dangerous after spending too long inside the Grey Reign.
The Monument of Truth
As the group continued through the exhibition, they reached the central piece. Standing against the grey sky was a colossal marble hand. Four fingers were tightly folded into the palm, while the middle finger rose proudly upward, defiant, uncompromising, and impossible to ignore—an enigmatic monument whose origins seemed to belong to an ancient, rebellious era long forgotten by history books.
The entire group gathered around it, completely baffled.
The mice gathered at the base of the monument, staring upward. Their small eyes moved from the marble hand to each other, desperately trying to understand what they were seeing, their long pink tails twitching nervously as they let out a chorus of high-pitched squeaks.
“Squeak,” whispered one mouse. “Is it some kind of instruction? Is it a diagram showing the ideal angle for clicking a mouse button?”
“Squeak-squeak!” replied another, nodding seriously. “No, no! It’s an ergonomic indicator! It’s reminding us to keep our wrists elevated while staring at the grey screens!”
This is just the beginning of the journey. Find out what happens next and unlock the full story by grabbing your copy of the book The Grey Reign
All characters and events in these stories are entirely imaginary. All rights reserved © Laura Bernardeschi Nelson.