Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Flopsy was back in the tea shop in forty minutes, finding it still empty. It was dark now; the staff must have gone home for the night. Thankfully plot bunnies didn't need light to see... One of the many benefits of not being limited by the rules humans insisted govern their own world. They had never quite made it completely into the world of fiction, and Flopsy was grateful.

Counting her blessings was something which, like the benefitial techniques of yin yoga, she had learned from her first creative commune with a human, captivated and entranced by hte mind that had produced such a delectable brain carrot.

And even though nothing major had gone wrong with the group whose leader she had met after leaving this tea room, this was a good time to count her blessings.

While humans had not written all the laws of physics into their fictions, they still had the power to change everything for the plot bunnies.

Usually the biggest issue was a classical muse appearing in the midst of Bunniption Base, and perhaps the building settling rather more strongly on the Oracle than usual, if the author whose muse it was had a particularly imaginative mindset. But because the muses tended to say things like "oh what cute fluffy bunnies", it had only been an issue the one time the Python had appeared as well. The concerted efforts of one of the elder archetypes and several other bunnies with a classic myth narrative had managed to deal with that, and also prevented it from becoming a problem again.

The plot kitties had been a much bigger issue. However, they had come at the same time as the "I can haz cheezburger" phase on the internet, and that had been a strong enough influence on the collective understanding of the cat mind that the plot kitties had all been as stupid as they had been talented at coming up with exactly the funniest - and poorest spelt - phrase for the situation.

So Flopy recognised the severity of what Earry had told her.

One of the novelists had written about the plot bunny army, and now, without his knowing what his writing was doing or how seriously it would affect all creative endeavours, that novelist's writing was guaranteed to affect the plot bunnies' whole world.




Earry crouched in the doorway of Bunniption Base's front tower with nearly the same deference as Flopsy had evinced on her own visit. The elder archetypes ignored him, preferring to finish their previous item of business first. While Flopsy would probably have increased her crouch due to insecurity, Earry thought, he himself refused to change his own posture. He wondered idly if she knew that he had been present for her previous visit; he thought not, as she had seemed entirely focused on the greys. Unlike her, however, he could not only tell the elder archetypes apart, but he understood their internal hierarchy. He had worked far more closely with them in the past year than Flopsy had likely ever dreamed any rabbit would ever have the opportunity for.

And because of that experience, he also knew that the hierarchy had changed drastically.

At the end of the previous November, one of the greys had refused to use the privileges of rank to ensure his own survival, and had told the other greys that they were at fault for the decimation in their people. He told them they should have done more to protect their offspring from that devastation, and that they were the ones who should pay the price – not the youngsters who had had no means with which to plan for the inevitable decline in brain carrots at the end of November. Earry supposed that the whole scheme had arisen as an inevitable consequence of his narrative, but not even his knowledge extended to knowing the narrative of any of the greys.

But the grey were twelve, had always been twelve, must always be twelve. To appear before the other bunnies as other than twelve would be to show weakness, and despite the actions of that one grey, the others knew that to show weakness was to invite the end of their lives and their reign.

However, they were influenced by their former member. The greys had chosen their new twelfth for his narrative of action – any fool familiar with the elder archetypes could tell that – although Earry himself had doubted the rumours associated with the pre-grey rabbit's narrative. There were stories about every rabbit, of course, and that one had been known for stories about victories against all odds. He had also been known for his interesting teeth, and Earry was amused each time he came into the other's presence by the faint echoes of narrative emanating from his mouth. The greys must be identical, of course.

The elder archetypes didn't know everything, though. Earry was naturally skeptical and so he had investigated the reality of the stories behind this new bunny – as the elder archetypes had chosen a twelfth for their own survival, so Earry had looked into his background for his own. The new grey had indeed worked on narratives against all odds, but his were tied up in computer games, not in texts or tales spoken aloud, and Earry wondered how this would affect his personality. The narratives of the rabbit shaped the story told, of course, but those stories shaped the rabbit right back, and the input of a genre even more shaped around the action and range of actions available to the game's player made for an interesting impact on the plotlines required in the mind of the author. While Earry had not seen that reflected in the grey's actions so far, he had definitely seen a penchant for big theatrics – like that speech at the launch of the mission. Earry had also seen that the grey wanted to be in control of key decisions without needing to pay attention to the gruntwork that needed to happen but which was beneath his attention, and he wondered if that was from the computer games' influence, or if it was merely one of the facets of command. Unfortunately, the grey had few competent underlings to whom he could delegate those tasks. Earry was one himself, of course, but the grey had him working on a completely different tack than on the administrative efforts that really ought to be taking place.

Under the circumstances, Earry thought, the plot bunnies would be lucky to survive this fiasco. Their only hope was for bunnies like Flopsy to take charge, and Earry rather doubted there were enough, even if this new grey didn't decide she and others like her were too much of a threat.

And Earry wasn't sure he would be able to carry out an order to eliminate her, which meant his tail was on the line too.

He hadn't expected to have much of interest in this assignment, but he was finding himself rather pleasantly piqued. Nothing like a death threat hanging over your head to sharpen your wits...

Speaking of which. The sound of the room's vocals had changed, gaining a sudden stillness.

Earry deepened his crouch slightly just as the first of the elder archetypes turned towards him.

“Hello, Earry,” the grey said. It was the new one, of course.

“Greetings, sirs,” Earry responded, with hidden amusement. He supposed this grey one had the same amusement. Both of them knew they were talking with each other, and that the other greys in the room had no role except as stage props to ensure that the remainder of the plot bunny community thought that there was continuity rather than a coup in the upper offices.

Not that any of them were likely to notice, even if this grey had taken over with his original black coverings, or for that matter with his original fangs. Even keeping his name was unlikely to have caused more than idle commentary, although with that one's name, appearance, and paranoia, perhaps even idle commentary would have stilled.

“Any news of Alfalfa?” the same grey asked.

“Yes, sirs,” Earry answered. “Some echoes have been found in association with a pair of writers in Vancouver. While I report, Flopsy and the others are working to track them down.”

“So soon...” the grey said. “We are pleased.”

“Thank you, sirs,” he said. Perhaps defending Flopsy wouldn't need to be one of his primary concerns after all. “There are two other matters which would would be well served with your attention.”

The grey leader looked Earry in the eye, searching. He said nothing. Earry waited, but it was another grey who spoke up first. “Go on, then, Earry, let's have it!”

“Yes sirs,” Earry said, keeping his eyes on the new elder archetype but directing a crouch in the direction of the voice. Clearly the old ones were finding it even harder to keep their cool and their collective presence now... No such impatience would have been displayed under other circumstances. He refrained his ears from twitching, although whether it was satisfaction or some other emotion which drove their desire to twitch, he was unsure.

“The first is somewhat less of an area in the zone in which I have been serving,” he said, collecting his thoughts. “However, it has the potential to be a widespread concern, and it may be that others have reported similar issues.

“The write-ins have been particularly problematic in terms of the novelists coming close to determining that something is going wrong in their plots. From what yourselves have said prior to this point, it seems that this is too early for any such inspiration to be crossing their minds. In my zone, Flopsy has had our team working to ensure that the local leaders understand how often bunnies ought to be switching off, and for how long they should stay with secondary writers before returning to their primaries. Many of the leaders in our zone fail to understand why this could possibly be important, but are willing to accept the new, more specific directions. In my opinion, this has prevented widespread issues, but it also requires much more hands-on dealings than it seems yourselves had desired from the outset. I recommend checking in with other team-leads and ensure that similar problems do not arise.

“In fact, in Flopsy's zone one of the humans came up with the idea of plot bunnies as being behind the issues the writers had been having in that particular write-in. The actions of the team lead in charge there, Christie, prevented the novelists from coming to an agreement, and also assuaged their concerns. Both Flopsy and I were pleased with her performance, despite the initial lapse. The situation appears to have been contained, but Flopsy is keeping an eye on the situation.”

“Acknowledged,” said one of the greys, not the leader. Again Earry crouched in the direction of the new voice. “Continue,” the grey added.

“The other situation is much more serious,” Earry said carefully. “In the same write-in, one of the novelists – the same one who came up with the idea of plot bunnies – mentioned having written a scene in which there were an army of plot bunnies.”

“He did what?” asked several of the greys in unison. Well, they had been together for quite some time, after all.

Not the leader, though, Earry noticed. In fact, his expression hadn't changed at all.

“So?” the grey leader said.

Not what Earry had expected. Interesting. “The novelist is writing about our actual situation, sir,” Earry explained.

“And you believe this to be more important than the possible discovery of our mission by the novelists?” the grey leader asked.

“Yes,” said one of the other greys before Earry could speak. “We have no desire for another situation like the plot kitties.”

The lead elder archetype laughed, then flicked his whiskers and tails in a brief pattern. One of the other greys flipped his ears at Earry apologetically, and the greys huddled in a circle at the back of the tower chamber.

So. He had no respect for what had happened with the plot kitties. Earry wondered if it was something to do with the way he had dealt with his fangs... The greys seemed to use the narrative of the twelve grey to convert their choice to their own appearance, as was easiest in Bunniption Base. It was formed of narratives, so that simple manipulation was bread and water to its guardians. The greys never left the Base, and much of the narrative substance of the plane went to sustaining them, replenished as their underlings ate brain carrots rather than eating them for themselves. Once becoming the grey, they never again went to the human world and feasted on creativity directly, else they would revert to their original appearance, or so Earry believed, based on the new grey's actions. The others had been around far longer than he himself had, as far as he knew, and so he had no others' experiences to compare.

Earry himself had long believed that the fiasco of the plot kitties had been somewhat blown out of proportion, but he still had a healthy respect for the level of control human creative energy held over the fiction-verse. He cherished the brain carrots he had the opportunity to enjoy, and from them he knew just how strong the human minds were. If just one could be so powerful, could create so much, all of them together could do vastly more.

He also knew how ideas spread like wildfire amongst these November novelists. The internet and its impact on narratives was quite new, but all the bunnies had noticed that there were periodic flares in specific narratives. Lately it had been vampires, and a short time ago it had been wizards.

Regardless, Earry's stance was that the plot kitties had left the bunnies feeling terrified of what could go wrong based on the humans' imaginations, but without actually doing anything much. It meant that both the usual response and the new grey's response were justified – the plot kitties were representative of the potential for problems in the plot bunny world based on changes in humans' imagining of the fiction-verse, but they had come nowhere near to realizing that potential. Of course, Earry himself found that made the situation rather more scarier than less, but it seemed that this new leader was of the opinion that the humans were either always flawed or too stupid or at the very least had something lacking in their ability to cause problems for the plot bunnies.

Earry had been cynical about the direction in which the new leader was taking the plot bunnies, but if he was going to treat this threat lightly... Earry felt a chill of fear that far outshadowed the slight thrill of the thought of being at risk of death himself. This new grey had the potential to set up the entire plot bunny species for destruction.

“You may go,” the grey leader told him coldly, startling Earry. He hadn't noticed the grey leadership finish their discussion, and he shook himself mentally. Thankfully he remained in the same respectful crouch he had been in since entering the room. He had spent enough time in the company of the elders, this past year, that he was used to the perma-crouch he was in now. He deepened the crouch.

“Thank you sirs,” Earry said respectfully, and he shifted to the human side, back to the ferry terminal he had left after the meeting with Flopsy's team.




Flopsy looked like she could swear a blue streak, and Earry wondered how much she really knew about the elder archetypes. Perhaps more than she let on, despite his belief that she was relatively inexperienced with them. He was impressed that she restricted herself to that rather becoming narrowing of the eyes – he liked bunnies with passion, but the control Flopsy made it even better – with not even a twitch of her ears to betray her further. He offered her a half-crouch; she was his team lead, after all.

“Thank you, Earry,” she said evenly, and Earry renewed his sense of appreciation. No trace of her frustration showed in her voice. “We'll carry on as planned, then, with the four of us checking Vancouver for either the humans who had the sound of Alfalfa on them or for Alf himself. I sent Harey and Hopert on ahead, so you and I will stay together for this one.”

“Of course, ma'am,” Earry said, no trace of his emotions in his voice either.

The two bunnies headed out into the cold, dark November rain, feeling no droplets on their fur, nor listening to their echoes. Their own physics enabled them to filter both out of their own worlds.