I
remember a few years back when I was going through a crisis in my life My
father, who was taking medication for bronchitis, had just declared, since I
had just had my Bar Mitzvah, that the three of us would go to Disney World and
Orlando. We were at the gate, waiting for our flight, when my father started to
cough. At first I thought it was normal, but then he started to cough more
violently, as if he were gasping for his life. I patted him on the back and
asked him if he was okay. He stopped coughing for a moment, then he doubled
over and went into a Grand Mal seizure. My mother was screaming.

I
will never forget the ambulance ride to the medical center. My father lay there
on the stretcher, lifeless, an oxygen mask strapped to his face. My mother was
sobbing, pleading with my father as if that would somehow save him. I sat
there, feeling sick, sick with dread. When we reached the med center, two
doctors and three nurses ran up to us and transferred my dad to a gurney. The
wheeled him into the ER. I wanted to cry, but I had to keep mom stable. I put
my arm around her and we walked into the waiting room.

About
an hour later a doctor came out to talk to us. He was an older black man with a
kind, grandfatherly face. He explained to us that my father had an allergic
reaction to the medication he was taking. He said dad would be good as new in
the morning.

I
was so angry. I wanted to slam the smiling specialist he had seen only a week
ago. "That incompetent shit," I thought. "I should sue him for every goddamn
dollar he’s worth!"

The
doctor who was with us, a Dr. Kelley, was kind and radiated competence. I
smiled to myself, relieved as I watched my mother take his business card like a
winning lottery ticket.

We
had a great vacation, or at least my mother and I did. My dad didn’t have such
a great time. I guess he changed after he was faced with his own mortality for
the first time. He was moody and virtually silent. He would slip away on
Saturday mornings to go to temple. He would work all weekend. And when I would
asked if he would do something with me, he would smile lovingly, hand me a fistful
of cash, and say, "Son, you’ve got plenty of friends. Go have fun. You don’t
need you old man around to burden you."

And
that’s how it’s been ever since. When the firm he was working for, Carisle,
Kohl, & McClelland, assigned him as NIMH’s chief legal counsel, everything
changed. We became upper-middle class, which was just a nice way of saying
"rich."

I
hated it. I gave more fuel to anti-Semitic peers who used the "rich-Jew"
stereotype more than ever. I would throw my DVD player out, just for a day of
real quality time with my dad. I figure my crisis never ended, I just got used
to it. But it still hurts.

I
couldn’t tell if the tears were from the memories, or the wind streaking past
my face as we went into a steep dive over a lush, green valley. The adrenaline
was really flowing now. I held onto Jeremy’s feathers so hard my paws hurt. The
sun was going to set in less than two hours, I was sure of it.

I
closed my eyes tight, but felt a thump shortly afterwards. We had landed. I
opened my eyes to find a scene that belonged to another world. There were rats,
dozens of them, harvesting and sorting vegetables. They were dressed in all
sorts of clothes! They all stopped and looked at me. Nothing hostile, just
curiosity. But this didn’t help any.

I
slid off of Jeremy’s back. He turned and said, "Well, see ya. Gotta run!"

"Wait!"
I said. "Can’t you just-" And he was gone.

A
large, very large brown rat hurried up to me. He wore a dark cloak and held a
wicked looking spear. This he held millimeters from my nose.

"Who
are you? What are you doing here?" He demanded.

"Uh..."
I managed a nervous grin. "My name is David Levine, and I was sent to speak by
Mrs. Jonathan Brisby to speak with Nicodemus."

"Did
you say Mrs. Jonathan Brisby?" He asked, startled.

"Uh,
yeah."

"Well,
you are welcome here, but if you’re lying..."

"I
can assure you, I’m not. I would never do anything to upset a person of
your...stature."

He
beckoned for me to follow him. I’ll tell you, Brutus was big enough to make even
my dad say "Eek! It’s alive! Kill it! Don’t let it get me!" But I never told
him that. We walked along a slate path with rocks on the edge, past a garden
and a pond. The rats kept staring.

And
to think I expected only a hole in the ground, for what stood before me was a
20cm mound, lined with stones, and two glowing torches on either side. A rat
stood guard next to the entrance. He was brown, wearing a blue and white tunic.
He had a large sword on his belt. This was getting to be a little too much for
me.

He
approached us. He was a slim rat with a mirthful air to him. I liked him on the
spot.

"Brutus,
who is our guest?"

"He
says his name is David and that he was sent here to by Mrs. Brisby to talk to
Nicodemus," Brutus said.

"How
did he get here?" The other rat asked.

"Courier."

The
slim rat regarded me quizzically for a moment and then said, "My name is
Justin. I’m the captain of the guard."

"I’m
David Levine," I said, extending my paw without really thinking.

The
gesture seemed somewhat foreign to him, but Justin shook my paw heartily.
Brutus was already gone. Justin smiled. "So you’re hear to speak with
Nicodemus?"

"Yeah,"
I said. "It’s sort of an, ah, a personal problem."

"I
see... Come with me," He said as he walked into the dark hole.

I
followed him. "Uh, I can’t really see in the dark," I said.

"That’s
okay, don’t worry about it."

The
tunnel was large and dark. I could tell that we were definitely heading
downward. Justin was walking at a brisk pace, and I was struggling to keep from
tripping over my long tail. Ever since I was transformed, I noticed something.
There were so many smells and sounds, so many subtle things my mind was trying
to tell me.

After
I judged that we were a good two meters down, we came to a sharp corner. And I
was surprised when I heard the sound of a doorknob. There was light as a door
opened up, and I saw more rats than I had ever seen in my entire life.

It
was a huge meeting hall, with benches on the floor, about 18 meters square.
There was a raised podium with three seats on each side. The ceiling was a good
three meters above us with two florescent lamps hanging from it that made the
room as bright as daylight. A pipe pumped a fresh, warm breeze into the room

Rats
were going back and forth, in and out of 8 large tunnels branching out from the
room. Each tunnel had a neatly written sign over it. The tunnels were labeled
ADMIN., LIVING, STORAGE., R. EXIT, SCHOOL, CAFÉ, MFG., MED.

Justin
headed towards the administration wing and I followed right behind. We entered
the tunnel, which was well-lit by several small Christmas tree lights. We
passed several doors. I glanced at the signs: Arthur-ENG, Justin-SEC,
Carmen-AGRI, Nicodemus-DTV. We knocked on the door marked Nicodemus-DTV. A
voice said, "Come in."

Justin
opened the door into a neatly furnished office with a desk and a large
bookcase. There was a small radio in the corner, playing Lizst. A slender rat
sat behind the desk. He had a patch over his eye and he had white fur in
several places. It didn’t take a vet to tell he was getting up there in years.
He had a warm, pleasant face. Not a bad thing for a rat.

"This
is David, he just arrived by courier and claims that Mrs. Brisby sent him to
talk with you," Justin said.

The
older rat, who I properly guessed was Nicodemus, regarded me with interest. He
motioned to a beanbag in front of his desk and said, "Sit down."

I
sat down and looked up expectantly at Justin, who was standing impatiently at
the door.

"Nicodemus,
I have sentry duty until 9. I have to get back. Sorry I can’t stay. Just call
if you need me," he said. And he left, closing the door quietly behind him.

Nicodemus
shuffled some papers and stuffed them onto a shelf. He then looked up at me, smiled
and said, "Now what is it that you wanted to speak with me about, and who are
you?"