Challenge #00401 - A036: Assistant's Assistance

Once nonhuman Terran species were uplifted into greater levels of sentience, the concept of ‘service animal’ changed a great deal.  (I wanna see how that concept would apply to sentient nonhuman Terran species..  Like, a blind sentient cat with a seeing-eye ferret or something - you get the gist)

Augments were legal. Uplifts were not. Especially not Uplifts like the unfortunate populations teeming about Nufurria.

They existed, and because they existed, the Galactic Alliance had to help them. No cogniscent species, however they came to being, deserved to have their basic rights denied. Which, in a long list of basic rights, included the right to assistance for a disability.

Mau had been deliberately blinded so she could not visually identify any of her former master’s clients. The previous law of Nufurria, before the Galactic Alliance came to the rescue, meant that many administrative assistants were not only blind, but confined to precisely-arranged suites and offices. Withheld from access to the simplest forms of freedom, like the ability to go out and do things for oneself.

Over, now.

But that didn’t stop Mau from flexing her paws nervously against her own knees. Nor wincing as her claws bit into her flesh. Her ears flicked this way and that. Trying to make sense out of an unfamiliar environment.

“Miss… Mau. Is that your only name?”

“It’s the only one I know. You’d have to check my former master’s printed files.”

“Would you like your sight restored, Miss Mau?”

“I…” she fumbled. She’d been trained to give pleasant, rote answers and had to fight to keep the phrases down. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I was told since I was blinded that being blind was a good thing. It made me… more valuable.”

“Well, you can always make up your mind at a later date,” said the counsellor. “In the meantime, there are options for assistance, both temporary and permanent.”

“I would prefer… the less expensive options?” Her claws flexed against her flesh again. Her species-specific desire to dig her claws into something for comfort was working against her. So was the thing, cheap fabric that her rescue squad had re-dressed her in. When and if she had an independent life of her own, she would wear thick, tough cloths below her waist. Denim. Corduroy. Fleece. Thick and able to deflect her own claws from injuring her.

“Given your grip problems, I’d forgo the stick,” said the counsellor. “And a regular animal , even with training, would slip a leash.”

“I was told you could give me better hands?”

“Yes, but they take time. Your freedom of independent action is vital for emotional recovery. The good news is that we have a B'Nari facility that can whip up an Augmented service animal for you in less than a week. Training would only take a week more. Two weeks at the utmost.”

“And hands would take…?”

“The better part of a standard year. The retrogenetic therapy and surgical procedures, combined, will mean months of painful recovery and physiotherapy.”

“I want to hold things and not drop them,” said Mau.

“Very well. I’ll add that to your file.”

*

The technicians insisted she be present for the uncorking. Someone to her left described her new friend while someone to her right guided her paws so she could 'see’.

So the Augment could smell her.

Soft, sniffing nose. Wet, warm, prickly fur. Sloping snout. Flexible ears.

“Hello,” she said. “My name is Mau.”

The snuffling and sniffing became ernk ernk noises. “I has name?” said a childlike voice.

Mau was instantly lost. She was made to help, but not be creative. She let go of her new friend before her anxious talons came out and hurt the poor baby.

Minutes old. Born with a functional vocabulary and elementary knowledge of the world. But not a name.

“Go ahead,” coaxed her helper. “Let her have a name.”

Mau thought hard. Of all her master’s clients, there was one woman who was kind to her. Who helped her whenever she dropped things. Who spent spare moments in the waiting room describing colours in terms of textures, smells, tastes and sounds. There was no other name for a creature who would help her.

“Your name is Mimi.”

Mau learned that Mimi owed a greater part of her heritage to pigs, since dogs and cats rarely mixed well once one had had a bad experience with the other. Mimi learned that Mau couldn’t see, and how to guide her through various obstacle courses. Mau learned to be careful of Mimi’s hind feet - still mostly trotters. Mimi learned to be careful of Mau’s claws.

*

Through the crowd. Her hand on Mimi’s fuzzy shoulder. The noise of perpetual babble slightly muffled by the knitted hat that replaced the fur she had been born without.

“It’s a big day,” Mimi chattered on. “Nobody else knows, but we know. It’s gene-counsellor day, today.”

“Yes, it is,” said Mau. She was well used to Mimi repeating information Mau had given her. It made the silences and the noise alike less lonely. “Dear Mimi… would you stay with me if I got my eyes back?”

“Yeahsure!” Mimi wiggled with glee. Her tail must be wagging again. “We could see things together and do puzzles and I have so many things I want to share!”

“Then I think I shall see about getting new eyes, too,” she decided.

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