|
|
|
by Scott Virtes
Science Fiction, 10 pages.
Originally Published in Analog Science Fiction and Fact, 1997
(1) Rate this Story When young Amy Walters bit the nose off her stuffed bunny, Puff, and swallowed it, she had no way of knowing that she was about to change the world.
Mom Walters was lounging in the fat chair, with a bag of Oreo cookies. She looked at the baby, who was suddenly quiet. “Bob, does the baby look funny to you?”
Bob put his beer can in its ring/stain on the lamp table, then un-slouched and took a look. “Is this a trick question?”
“I mean, does she look... blue?”
“Everything looks blue. The TV’s on.”
Amy made a weird little choking sound, and Mom Walters flurried into action. She ran in circles around the room, screaming, “Oh my God!”
Bob got up, patted the baby on the back, and the bunny nose popped out. It stuck to the carpet, covered with drool. The baby seemed surprised. She thought about crying, then decided it wasn’t worth it, and snuggled against Bob’s chest instead. The crisis was over.
Mom Walters kept orbiting the sofa, waving her arms. When Bob calmed her down, she spoke frankly. “Somebody’s going to hear about this!”
* * *
Donald Wheaton ran a clean business. He tried to keep his employees reasonably happy, though they were a demanding lot. As a child, he had wanted to be an astronaut, like all the other kids, but after way too much school, the National Astronaut Waiting List was 10,000 pages long and there hadn’t been a mission in years. So he had to swallow his pride, and get a real job. The first few years were rough, and he ended up living off of his doctoral thesis, which wasn’t so bad with milk and strawberries on it. He always thought of it as Corn Flakes with little letters typed on the back. After several uneventful jobs, he grabbed a bank loan and started his own business: FooCo, manufacturer of “Fine Smooshy Things for Kids.” He employed 850 people, and had quite a reputation among the soft toy community.
His secretary, Jeremy, rapped on the door, then came into the office with a stack of mail.
Jeremy plopped the mail down on desk. He knew the boss was just hanging around, spacing out, but he never had the nerve to say anything about it. “Uh, that top one came registered. Looks important.”
Don peeked at the envelope. It was from the District Attorney. He immediately felt a twinge of anti-curiosity. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was to open that envelope. He ran a good business. He was careful to make only smooshy things, because his legal advisor said solid objects were too risky. Now... why would the D.A. want to talk to him?
Don waved Jeremy out of the room, then stared at the envelope from 300 different angles before taking a heavy breath, and tearing it open.
He was being sued by a Stocktown group called Parents Against Lethal Crib-Things (a non-profit corporation), founded by Mom Walters.
His first reaction was natural: “Funny name for a mother,” he muttered. Then he realized that he was doomed.
* * *
The court battle was short and senseless. In the excerpts that follow, FooCo was represented by its legal advisor, Mac MacDonald, who tried his best to make sense of the accusations.
FOO: Because your daughter choked briefly on the severed nose of a FooCo bunny — one unit out of 400,000 sold — you are demanding the recall of every single unit sold to the public? Would you explain your reasoning here?
MOM: They’re dangerous.
FOO: Did your child suffer any injury which might support your claim?
MOM: She choked! She could not breath for almost an hour! Who knows what damage that might have caused to all those little growing brain-cells?
FOO: Did you say “almost an hour?”
MOM: Well, I wasn’t exactly timing the episode. My stopwatch was in the bathroom.
FOO: According to your husband, the episode lasted less than 15 seconds. Doesn’t that seem more likely?
MOM: He’s a pain in the ass.
* * *
FooCo brought in a forensic expert who argued that “during the course of development, the average child chokes on an average of 300 objects, 10% of which are larger than a bumblebee, and 0.02% ARE bumblebees... in summary, by the age of six, ordinary respiratory pauses included, a child spends 16,000 hours not breathing. The effect of an extra 15 seconds can be seen as less than significant.”
* * *
FooCo lost the battle, of course. When more than 1/20 of a mother gets worried, the corporate sector has no chance. The verdict was short and direct, “Find every Mr.Bunnyhead in existence, and burn them.”
The recall took 27 months, $1.3 million, 700 investigators, 85 Bunnyhead-seeking dogs, and a sneaky campaign of Easter bunny-trading. When they finally reported 99.99% recall, the State demanded better. “You mean that there are enough bunnies left out there to slaughter almost 0.0004 childr -- [End of Preview.]