We were given shelter part 1

Inside he looked over the transformations his workplace had endured. The waiting area was now filled with rubber mats and dog toys. Scents lingered under the bleach smell. The workers were people from the camps who had come through the door seeking services. Some had received jobs in this recent repurposing of materials. These people with scan

t possessions except a load of trauma and regret had either risked life or limb to sneak into the city fleeing boiling heat, crop failures, nanoplagues that reordered reality, no rain or too much rain, and the age old traditions of political instability and income disparity or had free fallen through the tattered webs of the city’s social net to arrive here to entertain and clean the victims of the enlightening, an entire generation of mutated dogs.
A three headed dog chasing a ball with two of heads trying to catch the ball and the third chewing on a bleeding leg. Two helpers are assisted a dog with legs that look like balloons out of a cage. A woman with a sour expression carved onto her face sponge bathed a quivering pile of sores vaguely in the shape of Labrador. These are the dogs that the enlightening failed, some ascended to godlike intelligence and others like these were left to wallow in ruined bodies and unchanged minds. These are snapshots he would send back to his ancestors to help curb their hubris and sociopathic behavior. Like Cassandra or desperate character from an incredibly old T.V. show he would be ignored. Mika’s only consolation is this is how it would end up despite all his efforts. But that is negative thinking again?
Bruno is one of those who ascended. He is the only one lingers here amongst us. Bruno is the king around here. He is an example of what was once called a Newfoundland. A semiotic examination of this one time labeling is a common conversation piece with him. But the physical appearance and association remains. A huge mop of hair atop a pair of gorilla eyes. But these eyes glitter with supernatural intensity and deep-seated insanity and brilliance instead of dumb animal love. When we lost the dog it was a chilling blow to human chauvinism and a revelation of our loneliness in the universe.
Most of the local dog colony lived in the hills west of town. They had elaborate complexes designed by them and built by refugee labor. Each built to house the individual collections of neurosis and intellect. Bruno was a rare commodity, for he lived among humans and the undeveloped and mutated members of his species. In theory his position was one of philanthropy, but one began to wonder if he just wished to create his cage or web of personal obsessions out of people’s live rather than merely building materials.
At first glance Bruno wasn’t in a position of authority. A human manager handed down all commands and retained the illusion of control. Mika would see Bruno around the building, a dog resting his sleeping body on a dog bed. Eventually his presence as the center of all operations became apparent with the slow logic of half remembered dream. Around the time his authority became recognized the other dogs appeared. The mutated dogs had suddenly moved in and become the focus of the workplace’s efforts. The lines of people seeking services never seemed to diminish but more and more space and resources became focused on the unfortunate canines.
Here Bruno was, sitting in the hallway on the way to Mika’s office. Not an office that actual resembled that concept, the one with files and a computer, but the bug infested break room that Mika used while handling his food distribution run. Here Bruno was set in a distortion of the Buddha pose, the air scented with the odd medical aroma that his body constantly exuded. Mika waited in patience as he pieced together the words being spoken.
“Malishka may be dead by morning.”
Bruno had a garbled way of speaking due to the limitations of the dog physiognomy; he could grasp and communicate in a multitude of languages, but could barely be understandable in any. But listening closely and interpreting to his words was a main concern around the compound. This statement referred to the current manager. This statement was potentially dangerous in both concept and interpretation.
“Is she ill?”
“No.”
“Then what leads you to that thought.”
“A premonition of sorts.”
“I’m listening.”
“A creature long removed from the wildness of raw aggression. The rending of flesh and the spreading of gore a distant primal memory, has found this side awakened. This side needs to be expressed to complete this creature or he is like a cripple who sits on a leg so long that it withers and dies. This fulfilled and complete creature may cross Malishka’s path tonight.
Speaking of her I have some complaints about her. The meal schedule seems inconsistent.”
“I’ll put in complaint to her see if we can get some consistency.”
“I think you can do more. You deal with the food a little bit right?”
“You want me to help with the meal schedule?”
“Someone needs to help Malishka. The schedule feedings need to be just that, scheduled.”
The meal schedule was never more than a minute off. Mika felt a suffocating feeling in my chest. There may be nothing to do for Malishka. There were rumors, unpleasant rumors of what happened to fired employees. The man who did the driving position before him died in bed. If it wasn’t for the large amount of blood it would seem as peaceful as the extinguishing of consciousness can ever be interpreted.
That is what made their days so terrifying. The threat was clearly from Bruno. But in what form and how much of it was accidental or happenstance was unknown. How carefully did they have to step? Was this just a wild and violent world or did Bruno manipulate it to his own ends? Did he control our every breath and step? This was a hopeless well of paranoia to slip down and ever hope to negotiate out of in any reasonable time. But, a perfectly reasonable thought is that we do exist in debit to Bruno, to come and go at his childish whim. So Malishka would have to be warned to step lightly.
Bruno’s silence for a couple of minutes seemed to be an indication that he could go on. Mika slipped around him to his office as he had an appointment with a client to prepare for. Then almost turned around, for Mika realized he forgotten to mention the parking ticket. But, maybe that was the wrong court to plead his case in. Mika would mention it to the manager when he warned her later. Mika spent the next fifteen minutes scratching an itchy spot that seem to have moved in on his inner thigh. Was it worth going to the clinic for? Worse things could happen there. Worse than what though? He decided to go and let them determine. Then Mika remembered to call his manager about the ticket. A sinister mumble was all I could get on her line. Since Mika had to add some words of caution about his encounter with Bruno he decided to see her in person.