The Time I Bought a Demi-Human

The Demi-ists

Walking into the office so late in the morning is awkward. It gives me that feeling like I've skipped third period to grab fast food with my friends. Only to be busted by the principal as we pull up, still holding the greasy bag.

I'm not normally paranoid but I feel like I am now. Groups of interns and associates in the cubicles pull their heads together and whisper as I walk by. Some groups scatter when I enter a hallway. Overall, it's an awkward feeling. I just roll my eyes and walk to my office on the eighteenth floor.

Without hesitation, I jump back into my project and keep at it for a long time. I've been working hard on a Demie-Human targeted brand advertisement. It's meant to endorse the Green Ribbon Rule while not pushing equality openly. I tried that at first. I was told to change it or have the contract moved to Brandon.

Instead, I decided to take a baby step in the right direction. Push for better treatment until people start to accept Demies on a higher level. After I made the change, I got a cocked eyebrow and a grudging nod from the Senior Agent leading our team. The day after tomorrow is the day I show the Board, my Senior Agent, Mrs. Steele, and the client my proposal. I can't let this opportunity slip by me.

I struggled with this project at first, because all I saw was pet store items to be bought for human slaves. The more I started looking deeper into the Master/Demie culture, the dirtier I felt. The hate, the fear, and the disparity all threatened to choke me. It was Mila's presence that let me find a way to enjoy the work.

She shows me what Demies are actually like. She allows me to empathize with her people and think what it would be like to be in their shoes. If we had been the ones to lose the war, it could have been the opposite of what it is now. Humans enslaved to Demi-Humans.

That thought scares me most of all because we are inferior to Demi-Humans. We can't see in the dark, or fly, or run at high speeds like they can. Even their DNA is more dominant than ours when every child of a Demie is will be a Demie. How are we supposed to compete with that?

The answer slapped me in the face with a pink tail and ears. We aren't competing. We are all people. If we don't accept it, it will mean death to many. We will destroy ourselves, if only morally, in the end. I hope my project can turn the tide of that, if only by a small bit. 

I put the finishing touches on a slide as my office door opens. I don't even look up. I don't want to lose my focus.

"I'll be right with you. I need five...seconds." I click the last button and save the changes. Looking up, I fight the urge to roll my eyes. It's Brandon. I only look at him for a long moment. He stares back at me, his look haughty. I know he's waiting for me to greet him. Yet, the last time I checked, he was kind of ignoring me. What happened to that? It was so nice.

"What's up, Brandon?" I ask a little rudely.

"I heard your feline has returned. I wanted to see how you were."

His tone is sickly sweet. It's more likely he wants to get as much gossip as possible and see if they took her back. I don't give him anything.

"Yep. She's back home"

He waits for more. I don't say anything, pulling up the next slide.

"That's it?" He asks loudly.

"That's it." I answer flatly.

"So...she'll be available again in about forty-five days." He mumbles to himself.

"Nope. She's still mine, Brandon. I said she is home." I glare at him.

His jaw drops. "That...that's impossible. She killed that guy."

I shrug. "I don't know what to tell you, Brandon. She's beyond your reach. If that's all you wanted, I have to work." My tone indicates that's all he'll get.