Page 16 of Last Chance to Save the World

“My pleasure!” Mom grins at us as she walks over to the birds. “Have you been showing Rian my babies?”

“They’re very impressive,” Rian says, even though he barely even glanced at them.

Mom makes a little noise in the back of her throat, and I know she’s pleased. It’s rare I bring home anyone for her to meet, rarer still for that person to even pretend interest in her damn birds.

“You’ve not even seen them properly yet!” Mom swings open the dovecote door, exposing about two dozen little boxes with nests and pigeons inside. She reaches inside one cubby and scoops up a bird. “They’re very friendly.”

“I’ve never seen something like that,” Rian says, nodding at the dovecote. His tone is so stiff; it couldn’t be clearer that he’s not a fan, but he absolutely thinks he’s tricking us all into thinking he’s showing polite interest.

Mom kisses the bird in her hand on the top of its head. Rian can’t hide the flash of disgust on his face.

“I have clearly been replaced in my mother’s heart,” I say.

“Yup,” Mom agrees cheerfully.

“So...you keep birds?” Rian asks.

“They’re noble creatures.” Mom holds the pigeon in her hands aloft, as if presenting it to a monarch.

Rian has the tact to say nothing, but his face didn’t get the memo.

Mom raises an eyebrow at him, bringing the pigeon back close to her chest. “I’m assuming you’re one of those who thinks they’re just rats with wings?”

Rian glances at me, but I just shrug. “They do have diseases,” he offers weakly.

“Like what?” Mom says, her tone no less sharp despite her smile. “Be specific.”

When Rian doesn’t produce an answer, Mom smirks. She turns back to the dovecote, replacing the pigeon she’d been holding into its nest and checking over the other birds. “Pigeons have gotten a bad rap historically. You’re more likely to be infected with toxoplasma from a kitten than get anything dangerous from one of my babies.”

I watch Rian’s expression. I wonder if he’s got cats on his family’s farm. Probably luxury ones, to go with the luxury food they grow. If his Rigel-Earth cats have toxoplasmosis, it’s definitely the luxury version of the disease. Toxoplasmosis EliteTM.

“It’s just not fair,” Mom continues. “You know what’s the worst of it all?”

“No?” Rian says.

“We domesticated them. Humans, I mean. Pigeons were wild birds, but humans domesticated them. We bred the fear out of them. We turned them into pets. And in the past, we treated them as well as people treat their dogs and cats and any other pet. Better, even. We built palaces for pigeons.”

She sweeps her arm grandly at the dovecote, a simple structure made of wood and stone, clean but not ornate.

“Pigeons in the past had a use, though, right?” Rian asks. “They delivered messages. But we don’t need that anymore. We have—”

“We have no sense of moral obligation to what we change for our convenience, regardless of what it costs others.” Mom speaks with such quiet authority that Rian shuts his mouth mid-sentence.

“Practically every city on Earth has cockroaches, rats, and pigeons,” I say. I know Mom’s spiel well. “Roaches and rats adapt for survival. But pigeons are everywhere because humans brought them there.”

“They love us,” Mom says. “A millennium after we tossed them aside like garbage, and they still gather in our cities. They still come up to us, hoping we’ll give them kindness. Because our ancestors bred them to trust us.”

“And we hate them for it,” I add.

Rian looks from me to Mom and back again. “I guess I never thought of it that way.”

I join Mom at the dovecote. I’m not a huge fan of birds—their eyes are weird as fuck—but I know Mom’s point. And I know why she really keeps the pigeons.

“You know,” I tell Mom, “Rian’s undersold his expertise to you. He’s been doing a lot for the climate-cleaner program.”

“The one in all the news feeds?” Mom asks. She turns to Rian, eyes bright. “You’re on the team helping to save Earth?”

Rian nods. I’m not sure if he’s hesitating now because he’s hoping for Mom’s approval or because he doesn’t want me to talk more.

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