Three of them sat on the park bench. That, in itself, was illegal as only two of their kind were allowed to meet together in public. However, social pariahs became particularly adept at disguise.
“We could do it,” Sethos agreed, “but why should we?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do,” Mariam replied, her green eyes bright behind the brown contact lenses.
“Huh, when have they ever done right by us?”
“I know there’s a history of bad blood between us and them,” Mariam admitted.
Sethos snorted, pulling his hat further down over his furry ears.
“But we are the more… evolved race. It is our duty to bring them up to our level, not to stoop to theirs,” Mariam concluded.
“I’m on my seventh life now” Sethos said, “I probably couldn’t stoop to that level now—even if I wanted to!”
“Keep your voice down and your lips close together. Do you want someone to see those teeth?”
Sethos scowled but closed his mouth. He didn’t need that kind of trouble.
“Would you rather play to their stereotype of us? Savage and selfish?” Miriam asked.
“Rather that than their ‘good little kitty’,” Sethos hissed.
“It doesn’t have to be one or the other. We are neither wild animals nor pets.”
Their older companion, Neith, watched Mariam with quiet pride. She had known this Felinite since she was very young and had watched her grow into a passionate advocate for her kind. She knew their history; how, in ancient Egypt, cat-people were painted onto the walls of tombs and had been revered as gods. In a dramatic role reversal, these former deities had now been demoted to second-class citizens, dependent on the good will and the leftover scraps of the Human population. At best, tolerated. At worse, despised.
Humans were content to let the Felinites and other animal/human hybrids do all the unwanted, unskilled jobs, but in order to regulate and control these minorities, tough legislation governed their rights—or the lack of them. Strict segregation was enforced to prevent the ‘inferiors’ from infiltrating and infecting society.
They were denied the vote and barred from both the police and the armed forces. Despite increasing numbers of these outsiders, all the top positions in both industry and government were exclusively Human.
Back at the table, Sethos had had enough. “Helping Humans is against our nature. Servitude is for dogs, not cats. I would rather die a proud Felinite than live like a filthy Caninite.”
“Well, Caninites have learned that co-operation with Humans is the way forward, at least for them.” Mariam pointed out.
“You do what you want, Mariam Sayed,” Sethos spat, “but I’m warning you, many will see your actions as traitorous to the whole Felinite race.”
The government’s Chief Medical Officer was starting to regret his career choice. Sir Colin Wilson knew that all eyes were now upon him, and he really had no idea what to do.
To be fair, it was much the same story around the globe. Viral infections of all kinds were now erupting everywhere, and the scientists could do little more than fire fight. As soon as they seemed under control, the viruses mutated yet again and continued to kill people in the hundreds of thousands. Health services were terminally overwhelmed and most of the rest of society had ground to a halt. While doctors, nurses and key workers were on their knees, everybody else was climbing the walls of their homes with boredom as commerce collapsed around them.
However, the Felinite population remained unaffected.
Seeking scapegoats, society was quick to assume that these ‘wretched cat-people’ were to blame for this modern plague. The fact that the scientists could find no medical evidence to substantiate this claim made it no less popular. Caninites were a docile, affectionate species and Equinites were strong but subservient. Although not afforded equal status, these two hybrids were popular with Humans. The haughty, independent Felinites, not so much.
With an eye on the next election, Sir Colin tried to appease the electorate by placing unnecessary restrictions upon any Felinite not on the ‘front line’ of defence. However, as many Felinites only had access to menial jobs—cooks, carers and cleaners—for the first time in their lives they were able to make money while many of the Humans were not.
As a medical man, Sir Colin wondered privately whether their immunity might hold the key to the cure. He started making enquiries.
Miriam made her way home through the urban slums. The soundtrack of the city had changed since the health crisis began. The background bass line of cars, buses, workers and shoppers had died down and the high notes of the high rise seemed much sharper in relief. The tenements throbbed with North African music, the smell of koshari filled the air and the youngsters played among the abandoned cars. It wasn’t a pretty place but at least there were fewer fangless faces here. She was home.
Her partner, Omar, greeted her at the door. “What have you been up to today?”
She curled up on the sofa. “Not much.”
“Hmmm. That’s not what I hear.” Omar replied.
“Really?” She cocked her head. “Who’s been talking?”
“Bahiti.”
Sethos’s partner. That made sense. “So what’s she been gossiping about now?”
“She tells me that you are planning to offer your services to the Human population. Although,” he frowned, “if that is true, I would have preferred to hear it firsthand.”
“Why?”
“Well, it’s not exactly going to go down well here, is it?”
Mariam sighed. “It doesn’t matter how it ‘goes down’.”
“It does to our family. Babu has already come crying to me because his friends called him a ‘Human helper’.”
“When did helper become an insult?”
Omar shrugged. “I’m just telling you how it is.”
“I haven’t done anything—yet,” Mariam countered, “I’m just airing ideas. Am I not allowed freedom of speech in my own community?”
“It depends. What ideas?”
Mariam had had many careers during her lifetimes, including being a member of the medical profession—when it used to be open to Felinites. A long time ago and many miles away. “We are an ancient race, blessed with nine lives, something not afforded to humans, Caninites or anyone else. In my four lifetimes so far, I have encountered smallpox, anthrax, cholera, syphilis and Spanish flu… and I’m still young.”
“Well…” Omar laughed.
She smiled at him. “So, I have built up a resistance to all of them. Can you imagine the immunity that Neith carries?”
“So…”
“So, the fact that Felinites can’t catch these new infections means that somewhere along the line, we must have met them, or something genetically similar, before, and are now immune. We, of all creatures, know that there’s nothing new under the sun. Therefore, our blood should, at least in theory, be able to transfer that immunity to both the Human and other hybrid populations. Modern medicine should be able to isolate the immune factor in our blood then deliver it to them in the form of inoculation.”
Omar thought for a moment. “And that’s a good thing?”
“You don’t think so?” She was surprised.
“What I think,” Omar said carefully, “is that there are many members of our community who have long memories. They won’t understand what you are doing.”
Ever the optimist, Mariam threw open her arms. “So, let’s educate them.”
Sir Colin Wilson’s office in Whitehall was only a few miles away from the Felinite hovel but, as Sloane Square is to Grenfell Tower, it could have been on a different planet. The Chief Medical Advisor poured two glasses of good whiskey and passed one to Dame Catherine Matthews, the head of the General Medical Council. These two had been friends since they met at Oxford University so Sir Colin reasoned that this might be a good place to start assembling allies.
“So,” he began tentatively, “do you think this idea could work?”
Dame Catherine thought for a moment. “Medically, yes.”
“But?”
“But, politically, you don’t need me to tell you that it’s a real minefield. Whether Felinite immunity can be transferred to Humans or not, the two species have a ‘delicate’ relationship with each other. Would Felinites be willing to help, and even then, would Humans accept it? If the children of both are segregated at school to avoid ‘contamination’, how likely is that Humans will agree to receiving Felinite blood?”
Colin paused. “Would you be able to run some… preliminary tests?”
“Officially?”
“Not necessarily.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Market day without the market seemed very strange. Until it had gone, Mariam didn’t realise how much she missed this colourful, noisy heartbeat of her urban home. The brightly decorated stalls, the smell of tamiya and the chatter of a dozen different languages.
As this inner-city market was almost exclusively Felinite , there was no real reason to shut it down. Perhaps the Humans just didn’t want Felinites enjoying something prohibited to them. Mariam smiled. How does the boot fit on the other foot? It was the same story with the shops. Grocers remained open, selling ingredients to make traditional dishes such as shawarma, mulukhiyah and baklava, but everything else was forced to close. The metal shuttered windows reminded her of blank eyes, staring at the almost empty street. As always, the economic effects of this crisis were felt most by the poor. However, Felinites always looked after their own.
Their traditional society was lawful, peaceful and just. Despite their supposed selfishness, Felinites did not discriminate against, or marginalise, members of their society. The poor, the sick, the disabled and anyone else who needed it could always rely on Mama Marta’s bottomless fatteh pot and the shelter of the Felinite shanty town.
Mariam was very proud of her people. She crossed the road and headed down an alleyway between the shops.
The first punch knocked all the wind out of her. As she doubled over, she met another fist coming the other way. She fell to the ground and felt a knee between her shoulder blades. “Keep down and stay down,” a voice hissed.
“What do you want?” Mariam managed. “If you need this food, take it. You only had to ask.”
“Keep your food,” said another voice, “and keep your nose out of Human business.”
Another punch to the head and by the time Mariam could look up, her assailants had disappeared.
“Ouch!” Mariam winced, flashing her sharp fangs.
“Well, hold still then,” Omar chided his partner as he tended to her split lip. “Look, I hate to say ‘I told you so’ but—”
“Then don’t say it!” Mariam snapped. He held his tongue. “How did the Humans hear about my idea?” she asked.
Omar put the wet cloth back in the bowl. “What makes you think your attackers were Human?”
“Good morning, Colin.”
He recognised Christine’s voice immediately. Besides, very few people had access to his direct line. “Good to hear from you. How goes it?”
“Promising. Initial findings suggest that Felinite immunity is both compatible and beneficial.” She paused long enough for Colin to anticipate the ‘but’. “The medical aspect is relatively simple. The political P.R. is an altogether different beast and I’m happy to leave that part to you.”
“Cheers,” he replied with mock sarcasm. “Any ideas where I could start?”
“Don’t you have advisors?”
“Not that I trust with this—at least not at this embryonic stage.”
Dame Christine laughed. “You are a wise man, Mr Wilson. Actually, I have given this some thought. I’m willing to bet that the Felinites have thought of this solution too. Most of them will keep it to themselves but a few will have the passion to push this publicly. Check your records and look for the ‘trouble makers.’ They will be probably be a good place to start.”
The Chief Constable was intrigued. Sir Richard Mattock was another of Sir Colin’s university chums and, he hoped, would be a useful, but most importantly, discreet colleague. “Are you looking for someone in particular?”
“Well yes, but I don’t know who.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m looking for an activist in the Felinite community.”
“Do you mean a terrorist? That lot don’t usually get involved in that sort of thing.”
“No, I mean someone who is motivated and bravely vocal about the rights and social responsibilities of their species.”
“I can certainly identify a few individuals who fit the bill. And, off the record, I have to say that when dealing with Humans and Felinites together, the latter are far the easier option.”
Omar was not happy. “Mariam, there are policemen at the door!”
“What do they want?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care. I just want them to go away.”
If the relationship between the Felinites and the Humans was strained, the relationship between the Felinites and the Human police was particularly volatile.
“What have you done now, Mariam? Is it not enough that members of our own community are outraged by your ideas—now you bring the police to our door?”
Mariam wasn’t afraid of the authorities. She had been dealing with them for centuries and very many had been much more dangerous than the modern-day police.
Opening the front door, she was aware of many more pairs of eyes watching her in addition to those of the two policemen. “Good afternoon, officers. How can I help you?”
They didn’t exactly look like they wanted to be there, in the middle of the Felinite slum. “Can we come in?”
“With respect, I’d rather you didn’t,” Mariam replied. “What’s this about?” She knew her fellow Felinites were annoyed with her at the moment, but she didn’t think they’d involve the Human police.
“We’re not entirely sure… ma’am,” one of the officers admitted. “You are not under suspicion of any crime, but the Chief wants to talk to you.”
“Why?”
“As I said, ma’am, we don’t know but if you’d like to come with us…”
Miriam imagined that her neighbours would be very interested in seeing her leave the area escorted by the police. Omar was not the least of them.
The police introduced her to the Head of Government Public Relations then left as quickly as they could. In spite of their biological differences, Mariam felt she had found a kindred spirit. David Carlton and she were basically saying the same thing -- that it was possible for Felinite immunity to protect Humans against infection. The biggest question was how to sell the idea to both sides.
“I admire you, Mariam,” David told her. “Contrary to popular belief, your kind are responsible and altruistic. Even so, I imagine you have had some opposition from your own people.”
Miriam still bore the bruises. “Social reform is rarely easy,” she conceded.
“You are also obviously as intelligent and articulate as you are passionate,” David went on. “How do you fancy an interview?”
“With the police?”
“Oh no, no, no. A television interview. Let’s show Humans that Felinites are not vermin—no offence—but valuable members of society; willing and able to help in the current crisis.”
“Well…”
“We will make it worth your while, of course.”
“You mean…”
“I can’t give you an exact figure right now but—”
“I don’t want your money.” Mariam’s bright green eyes flashed. “I want change.”
Matching her old friend’s slower pace, Mariam accompanied Neith through the dark alleyways. Eventually they found a quiet corner in which to stop and talk.
Neith lowered her old bones onto one of the crates left there and curled her grey tail around herself. “This is not going to be easy,” she began.
Mariam laughed. “And the understatement of the year goes to…”
“Nor will it be funny,” Neith scolded her. Mariam shut up. “You will be reopening old wounds that run deep and will stir up a lot of animosity between Humans and Felinites. Tread carefully—we seek peaceful reform, not race riots.”
“I will try to keep my cool,” Mariam promised.
“You must do more than try, and you will be sorely tested. The interview will just be the start of it. You are a passionate woman, Mariam, but you must keep the peace. It is the only way forward.”
“Do you think the Humans will see it that way?”
Neith shrugged. “It’s difficult to say. We are bred from the divinity of ancient Egypt. Despite their claims, their history is much more savage. They also have a nasty habit of assassinating social reformers. That said,” she smiled, “I can think of nobody better for this task than you. Just remember to stay cool; there is no place for claws in the future you seek.”
Jonathan Priest was an experienced interviewer, best known for mercilessly grilling politicians from all parties, much more Jeremy Paxman than Jeremy Kyle. After all, this was no daytime chat show.
Despite his stern exterior, he greeted Mariam with a warm style. “Ms Sayed. Just a few words of advice before this whole thing kicks off—and I’m sure it will! Whatever happens, keep calm. I will control the audience as far as possible but be prepared for some heckling. Obviously, this is a very emotive subject and lots of people will be entrenched in their views. However, some are here simply for the limelight. Don’t feed the trolls.”
Mariam nodded. “I trust your advice, Mr Priest. But don’t worry; I have centuries of experience dealing with this kind of virulent speciesism. Let’s just say it’s not my first rodeo.”
“Excellent.” Jonathan patted her on the back.
The make-up artist put the finishing touches to Mariam’s face. “Don’t let him lull you into a false sense of security,” she muttered.
The studio audience had settled into their seats and the production manager was reminding them of the rules of conduct. From the wings, Mariam could see that the crowd contained all the usual suspects: angry young men, grim-faced pensioners and several members of the clergy.
Jonathan introduced Mariam, the music began and with a deep breath, she walked out onto the stage.
Immediately, she was met by a barrage of boos. The production manager re-appeared, scolded the audience and they tried again. This time, Mariam was greeted with an ominous silence. They certainly weren’t going to applaud her.
Jonathan introduced her to the glowering crowd and the interview began. “So, Ms Sayed, why are you here?”
Now there was a question!
“For a fair exchange,” Mariam replied. When Jonathan just sat and looked at her, she took the plunge. “For too long, Humans and Felinites have been, dare I say it, mortal enemies.” The crowd grumbled quietly. “In this time of crisis, this can change. Due to centuries of exposure to all kinds of contagion, Felinite blood has the unique property of providing protection against these current viruses and we’d like to share that with the Human population.”
The host nodded. “Why?”
“Despite the stereotype, we’d like to show you that we are neither savage nor selfish. In our culture, you are expected to help others in any way you can. We already offer food and shelter to outcasts. Now we’d like to extend this invitation to the rest of society.”
“And what’s in it for you?”
At least the make-up lady had warned her. “We seek to exchange our immunity for social reform.”
“Go on.”
“Where do I start? In ancient times, your ancestors worshipped us as gods.”
“And that’s what you expect now?” Priest scoffed.
Mariam ignored his tone. “Of course not. We are not divine, neither are we immortal. We do have nine lives but, in the end, we die too. What I’m interested in is not the quantity of our lives but in its quality—its equality. Felinites, like Caninites, Equinites and every other form of hybrid species, have been segregated into inner-city slums and fobbed off with second-class jobs and schools. Unions, public meetings and places of worship are all prohibited. Incidentally, why do you think we would want to go to your churches? You don’t.”
“Let me just interrupt you there,” Jonathan said. “Who do you worship?”
“With us, it’s less about the divine and more about honouring our history and ancestry, of which we are very proud. We were born Felinites. ‘Can the clay say to the potter, why did you make me thus?’”
“Blasphemy!” One of the clergymen was on his feet. “Don’t you dare quote sacred scripture, you piece of filth!”
Mariam stood to meet him, her hackles rising. “And this is your mercy to all God’s creatures, is it?”
“You were not created by God. You are of the devil.”
“Like the innocent old women that the church burned alive as witches?”
“I’m not going to listen to any more of this heresy,” the vicar snapped and walked out. Several others followed him.
“And there you have it.” Mariam sat back down, her point made. “Even the supposed ‘best’ of Human society treat us with contempt. We are social scapegoats, blamed for all the ills that are actually being inflicted upon us.”
“Do you mean the viruses?” Jonathan asked.
“No, and that’s my point. Despite the injustices inflicted upon us, we are willing to help others using our natural immunity.”
“So, if SARS came from birds and CJD came from cows, did these new infections start with you? Is that why you’re immune to it now?”
“No.” Thinking of Neith's warning, she managed to keep her tone calm. “The truth of it is that because of our long lifetimes, we have built up an immunity to many conditions that plague Humans. In the same way that many modern medicines have been developed from naturally occurring substances, so our blood can be distilled to provide an immunity vaccine.”
“I’d rather die than accept Felinite blood,” called one of the audience.
“Okay,” Mariam nodded. “That’s your choice but do you decide for everybody? What about your children. Or your elderly parent slowly suffocating without a ventilator?”
“You just want to poison us,” a woman called, “to turn us all into monsters like you.”
“Another demonstration of your so-called ‘humanity’,” Mariam replied. “Always assuming the worst about us; that we Felinites wish to recruit, radicalise, corrupt, or otherwise pollute the Human race. I no more wish someone like you was a Felinite, Madam, than I would wish myself to be Human.”
“You don’t like Humans?” Jonathan interjected.
“I didn’t say that. What I don’t like is their attitude towards hybrids in general and Felinites in particular. I don’t like the way our children seek dental help to disguise who they really are. I don’t like the way we are subjected to corporal punishment that has been outlawed against Humans. I’m sure the authorities would resurrect capital punishment for us if they thought they could get away with it! And I don’t like being treated with suspicion by the Human race when I am just trying to help.”
“You’re a lying, evil half-breed!” called out one of the crowd.
“I am neither a liar nor am I evil,” Mariam replied.
“But you are half Human,” Jonathan pointed out.
“So are all hybrids. Does that mean that we should be treated half as well as Humans? With respect, we are faster, stronger, more graceful and more elegant with keener senses and nine times your lifespan. By that reckoning, you are the inferior species.”
Priest caught the whiff of controversy. “You think hybrids are superior to Humans?”
The audience buzzed with indignation.
“No, I think we have the same intrinsic value and so should be afforded the same rights,” Mariam continued calmly. “We’re no better or worse. We’re just different. If we weren’t, we wouldn’t have the immunity to offer you in the first place.”
“If this miracle blood of yours that’s going to save the whole Human race, what do you want in return?”
Mariam smiled. “Change.”
Real reform is rarely achieved overnight. Many people stubbornly refused the Felinite vaccine and as the viruses mutated and worsened, most of them died. However, slowly but surely, the threat of these infections was removed from those who looked to the future.
Humans proved no more stupid than Felinites were savage. They realised that these latest ‘plagues’ could devastate them in future. As long as over-population and environmental destruction continued and increased, scientists warned that worse could be on the way. Rather than villains, Felinites and other hybrids could prove to be essential allies in the ongoing battle against infection.
In time, the city slums were cleared and were replaced with more habitable homes. Hybrids who had been unlawfully imprisoned, were released. Sanctions were lifted enabling Felinites and other hybrids to work alongside Humans in all professions and their children made friends with each other at school.
Neith looked out across the city from Mariam’s office. “See what you have started here. Your name will sit alongside social reformers like William Wilberforce, Emily Pankhurst and Martin Luther King.”
“Commendable company,” Mariam said with affection. “I remember them well.”
“And they would be as proud of you as I am,” Neith smiled as she left, walking past the door marked “The Right Honourable Mariam Sayed, M.P.”
Petina Strohmer is a published novelist. She has also had thirty-two (mainly speculative) stories published in different anthologies, one of which was an Amazon #1 bestseller in 2024. She lives in the magical Welsh mountains, UK, with a raggle-taggle assortment of rescued animals. For more information, go to www.petinastrohmer.com.
This is a tasty morality tale that, in today’s fraught world, is welcome. Unfortunately, the idea==equality—is perhaps more far fetched than the Felinite premise itself. Good storytelling!
Your story of Mariam and her struggle to both help Humans as well as her own Felinites drew me in and I really liked it.