Chapter 3 – Ultimate Showdown

Rosie charged up the field at breakneck speed, every iota of her attention focused on intercepting the flying disc cutting an angle across her path. Stretching her neck out as far as she could, she snapped her jaws closed on the disc just before it stalled out and dropped to the ground.

Digging into the turf with all four paws and all but skidding to a halt, she shook the disc violently before looking up and around for her teammates. Only then did she blinkingly realize she was in the end zone.

‘Wheeeeet!’ Kim’s whistle cut through the air, “Point for the furs!”

Rosie capered proudly, lifting the disc triumphantly in her mouth. Four other neodogs charged up to join her, one of the four pouncing on a teammate for a quick wrestling match. Rosie uncoiled her arms from their at-rest position along her back and switched the disc from her mouth to a hand. She looked across the field of play at her friends on the opposing team.

The five neodogs of the other team, the ‘shirts’, were completing their charge for the opposite end zone with ample barking and tail wagging. They wore service dog style vests emblazoned with the blue and white star logo of Sirius Bio-Engineering.

The field of play was a nominal soccer field, part of the excellent facilities included in the office complex that housed Sirius Bio. The game, however, was the great highlight of neodog social life – Ultimate Frisbee.

Kim stood on the sidelines at mid-field, one arm in the air and a whistle in her mouth. Human Ultimate players would referee themselves, according to the ‘spirit of the game.’ Neodogs, in all fairness, required a little help making accurate calls. Another change, an unofficial one, was a complete lack of concern with the score. Kim tracked it in her records, but while the neos cared deeply about the next point, they never expressed interest in the final result.

Once she scanned the field and saw that all her players were in place, Kim dropped her arm and blew her whistle to signal the ‘pull.’ Rosie threw the disc downfield with an uncoiling of her arm. The neodogs began their charge, accompanied by their own thunderous barking. Ultimate was a fast paced game when played by humans, when played by neodogs it bordered on insane.

Sweating in the hot summer sun, Kim trotted up and down the field, but following the rapid play was more a matter of eye motion and concentration. Cheers sounded behind her from the couple of dozen people gathered on the sidelines. Most of them were Sirius Bio employees, but, as always, there was a smattering of others, including a pair of safety regulators from the earlier meeting.

The furs intercepted a long throw from the shirts, who immediately got possession back as one shirt dashed in front of the only furs player in a forward position. Kim found back passing to be a challenging concept for all the neos, except perhaps Gabby. When the furs intercepted again, on the very next pass, the crowd broke out in laughter and clapped heartily. The dogs, as always, were enthusiastic, loud and very fast, but strategy was not one of their strong suits.

She blew her whistle as the shirts scored a point, and the teams changed sides. She took a moment to wipe sweat from her eyes and then signaled the next pull. The neos charged full tilt at each other and the game resumed.

Kim had a lot of experience running these games, and she truly enjoyed the accompanying cacophony of barks and cheers. The noise meant her charges were happy, the onlookers were happy, all was right with the world. The background noise had become an atonal symphony for her, but today a jarring note intruded, an unpleasant chanting. “Just say no to frankendogs…just say no to frankendogs…just say no to frankendogs….

About a hundred meters from the playing field, distinctly on public ground rather than the office complex’s property, stood a couple of dozen placard carrying protestors. It was the largest such group they had ever had; for the first time approaching the size of the crowd of fans.

One of the protestors had been haranguing his companions the last time Kim had looked their way. From the sound of it, his group had gotten their act together and moved on to this charming chant: “…just say no to frankendogs…just say no to frankendogs…” She resisted the urge to look, settling for a disgusted head shake. She needed to keep her eyes on the game.

As if to reinforce that point, a key play happened just then. Gabby, in the blue and white vest of the shirts, caught the disc with a snap of his jaws just outside of the end zone. He quickly pulled it out of his mouth with his left hand, swiveling his head for a target. He spotted an open player and let fly, but not directly to her.

The disc flew into the end zone and a black, white and blue bolt of lightning shot forward and snapped it out of the air. The lightning bolt was named Bellatrix, usually shortened to ‘Bella.’ Like Rosie, Bella was a Portuguese Water Dog genetic derivative.

‘Wheeet,’ went Kim’s whistle, “Point for the shirts!” Gabby had the best aim and the best strategic sense of any of the neos. He was the only one who really seemed to understand throwing where the player could be instead of where the other dog was. As a coach, Kim’s assessment of the rest of them of them was that they threw better than random - barely.

“…just say no to frankendogs…just say no to frankendogs…”

Kim used the break in play to throw a dirty look at the protesters, but then laughed at herself. “Chica, it’s just as well you are too far away, they would probably be inspired.” They had seen protesters at their games before, although not often. This bunch was the most numerous and best equipped crowd she had ever seen. They arrived in several vans and displayed solid, cleanly lettered signs. The previous record had been seven protestors and half of thier poster board signs had been misspelled.

“… just say no to frankendogs…”

“That is getting irritating,” she mumbled. The corner of her upper lip curled, “Why such a large group today? Did they know the congresswoman was here?”

Game watchers pointed at the protestors and she could hear grumbling, although not the specific words. That was all right, people could cope, but she surveyed the field to find her players were still spread around when they should have been in position for the next pull. The chanting might not mean anything to them, but they would be attuned to the growing agitation of their humans.

Rosie appeared at Kim’s side, “Those people do not like us. Why do they not like us Kim? We are good dogs!”

Before she could answer, Sharon’s voice rang out, “Kim! Get them playing again!” The office manager turned to the onlookers and clapped her hands as she continued, “Okay, people, let’s not engage them. We’re here to enjoy our game. Everybody, with me now, ‘Let’s go, neos!’”

“Let’s go, neos! Let’s go, neos!” After a few repetitions, the crowd showed a real enthusiasm. Sharon threw in some cheerleading moves for good measure.

Kim shook her head, “I hope she doesn’t hurt herself.” She blew her whistle and waved the teams to their positions; the watchers cheered, the game resumed. As long as they were playing, the neodogs were untroubled by the protestors. The fans cheered much more than normal, sometimes attempting silly chants of their own. With the protesters kept at a distance by the property line, it was an effective counter and the crowd stayed spirited.

Kim had more trouble. She kept trying to laugh it off, but she could not help being irritably aware of the protestor’s chant, “…just say no to frankendogs…just say no to frankendogs.” It was like fingernails on a chalkboard for her. She nearly missed calling a goal.

“Wheet, Wheet, Wheeeet.” Three blasts on Kim’s whistle signaled a 10 minute halftime. Rosie charged up to her for a hug and a back scratch. As the redhead performed her sacred duty as Rosie’s guardian, Sharon joined the pair. Kim inclined her head toward the demonstrators. “So, they’ve backed off of the chanting for a bit.”

“Yeah, but you can be sure they’ll start up again. Right now, they’re talking to those reporters. I’d rather this didn’t get any attention, but at least it’s a local news team and might give us a fair shake. I’m gonna sashay over and be the next interview. We’ll want to make sure ya’ll talk to them after the game. Good girl.” That last had been directed at Rosie, with an accompanying head pat, before Sharon headed off. Knowing how much Sharon loved neodogs Kim never quite understood why she did not have one of her own. Of course, the supply was limited, but still….

“…just say no to neodogs…”

“That’s the loudest they’ve been yet! They’re playing to those reporters!” said a new voice.

Kim turned to see her friend, and Sirius vet tech, Olivia, offering a bottle of water along with her opinion. “That is totally annoying. Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll strain their throats.”

“That’s a pleasant thought,” Kim gratefully gulped down a large swig. “Hey, is our crowd bigger than when the game started?”

“Oh, for sure. Sharon told everyone in the office who could to get out here. At first, people started to get mad, but then we settled on cheering as much as we can. My throat is totally starting to hurt!”

Kim swallowed another swig of water, “Is that why Joe Brady’s watching? I don’t think I’ve seen him stick around for a game before. Whoa.” In a wave starting from the front hood ornament, the convertible Mercedes Joe was leaning against changed from a burgundy red to a sunlit gold. “That’s a hella nice ride. Is that Brady’s? I’ve got a chameleon package, but it takes like five minutes to change the car color, and it doesn’t do that cool wave thing.”

“Dunno. I think it’s that weird dude’s.”

Kim had missed ‘weird dude,’ who had been obscured by his open trunk. He finished whatever he had been doing in the back of the car and joined Joe in leaning against the hood. The guy did cut an odd figure.

He looked soft and pudgy, even from fifty meters away, and wore a very formal suit. That was unusual enough in the area’s relaxed business climate, but it looked outright stifling in the summer heat. However, what put him over the top and into ‘weird’ was his top of the line stadium headset. Kim had seen them at major sports events, where they were very popular with tech early adopters. The things were computerized binoculars, equipped with zoom, recording and playback features.

“He is weird, Olivia. Why stand all the way back there and use those things? He could walk right up to the field and get a better view.”

“Yeah, and he’s had them on the whole time. It’s just kind of … off.”

“Well, I hope the response time on those things is fast, or he’s going to have a killer headache trying to follow one of these games.” Kim’s handheld chirped in her pocket. “Speaking of which, time to start back up.” She lifted her whistle to her lips, “Wheet. Wheet. Wheeet”

During the second half, to Kim’s eternal gratitude, the protestors never seemed to get as much spirit going; or maybe they were just drowned out by the nearer and, thanks to Sharon’s efforts, larger supportive crowd.

Probably it was also hard for them to get pumped up with no real opportunity for feedback from the protestees. They were just too far away from the neodogs and the game watchers, an advantage of the office complex’s layout. Kim was willing to bet that anyone who thought they would confront the protestors had been discouraged by Sharon. In between plays, she had seen the woman sometimes known as ‘The Sheriff’ sheepdog a few stray people back to the game.

“Why such a large group? What was different today?” An interception by a shirt recalled her to the moment, “Stay focused ref,” she told herself. Interceptions and changes of direction were occurring less often as the dogs began to tire out. Sometimes scoring actually picked up when they were tired, but not today. “I swear, they would play this game until they dropped dead of exhaustion!”

Gabby picked that moment to show his superior sense of strategy. Hemmed in just outside the end zone he back-passed to Bella. As the surrounding furs turned to block her, Gabby broke sideways for the far side of the endzone and caught the return pass, making the last score and giving the game to the shirts by one point.

Kim blew her whistle three times – end of game. The onlookers clapped and cheered as lolling tongued neodogs headed for their respective people.

Rosie and Gabby trotted tiredly over to Kim. She gave Rosie a big hug and scratched Gabby’s back, “Good dogs! That was an excellent game.” There was tail wagging and heavy panting, but no talk; they were a pair of tired neodogs. Each gave the human a lick before heading for the communal water bowl.

Kim pulled her handheld from her back pocket and thumbed some notes; game time, final score, a few other stats. It had been closer than usual, but if you wanted to bet on these things, Gabby’s team usually won. Not that the neos seemed to notice.

When she looked up, Sharon was approaching with a news stream crew in tow. “Oh no! She isn’t really going to try to put me on news vid, is she?” She looked around desperately, but could find no cover or escape route.

“Kim! Wait up sweetie!” Sharon waved; her voice was entirely too cheerful. Kim deflated - first congressional representatives, now this. Resigned, she turned and smiled when they got close.

Sharon did the honors, “Becky, this is Kim.”

“Hello Kim,” the newswoman shook Kim’s hand. “I’m Rebecca Owens, with Active News. This is my cameraman, Dave. Sharon has suggested we talk to you about these games. Can we ask you a few questions?”

“Umm, well, I suppose so.” In a nervous gesture she had picked up from her uncle, the young woman’s fingers drummed unconsciously on the back of her handheld.

Rebecca had a professional vid streamer’s voice; Kim wondered if they taught it in journalism school. The news woman wore a lightweight vid headset, one that did not muss her hair but would provide a good view of an interview subject. Her partner, Dave, wore a multi camera heavy duty unit that made ‘Weird Binocular Dude’ look normal.

Rebecca held out a long thin microphone, “Now Kim, you are the athletic director for neodogs at Sirius Bio-engineering, isn’t that right?” Dave circled around to get a better angle on his partner.

“Umm, well, yes, I suppose. I don’t really have a formal title, but, I guess you could describe me that way. Part time.”

“And this is your personal animal? What is his name?”

“Uh, her name is Rosie, and you could have asked her.”

After a brief hesitation, Rebecca bent down and held her microphone toward Rosie. “Hello Rosie, I’m Rebecca.”

“Hello, Rebecca. I am pleased to meet you.” Rosie was an especially polite neo; even so, Kim crossed her fingers hoping she would not ask Rebecca to scratch her tail.

“Rosie, do you like playing in these games?”

“Yes. I love to play Frisbee. It is fun.”

“What is the best part?”

Rosie cocked her head to the side for a second. Very positively, she said, “I like to chase and catch the Frisbee.”

“I must admit, it feels very strange to be talking to a dog.”

“I talk to people all the time. I like to talk. You might feel better if you scratched my ears.”

Kim resisted an urge to slap her forehead. Instead, she interjected, “Of course, Rosie is not a typical dog. Really, she belongs to a different species; she is a neodog.”

Owens reached out with her free hand and scratched the neo’s ears. “Rosie, how do you feel about the protestors?”

Rosie tilted her head happily into the scratch, then startled when the question registered, “The people over there?” She pointed with her nose. “They do not like us. I do not understand why. We are all good dogs. We help people.”

Kim saw that with the dispersal of Sirius people at the end of the game, the protesters were also clearing out. Rebecca thanked Rosie, straightened up and returned to interviewing the human half of the pair. “What about you Kim, what is your reaction to this protest? Is Rosie a ‘frankendog’?”

“I really don’t know what to make of it. We’ve had small clusters of protesters before, but this was the biggest crowd I’ve ever seen.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand them. There is nothing to fear from our neodogs, they love humans instinctively. When a neodog comes into your life, you gain a wonderful companion; they are the ultimate helper dog. The first seeing-eye dog school in the US was opened in 1929, and this is just the latest step in that process.”

“What is the purpose of these games?”

“Well, socialization, play and exercise are important for any dogs. Neos need greater mental challenges and a chance to fine tune the use of their cybernetic arms. Eventually, we settled on Ultimate. We tend to call it ‘Frisbee’ because the dogs prefer that word. They just seem to like to say ‘Frisbee.’”

“You said eventually? How do you mean, ‘eventually.’”

“Well, my Uncle Ted asked me to try and get something organized. I’ve been a soccer player from the cradle, my mother had me kicking a ball when I had to hold her hand to do it. So, first I tried soccer games.”

“How did that work out?”

She shook her head with a wry smile. “Terrible. Neodogs are easy to please, so any excuse for running around will fly, but I couldn’t adapt the game to them. I had them ‘elbowing’ the ball and other silly things.

“Then one day on campus, I stumbled on an Ultimate game, and slapped myself in the head for not thinking of it before. The rest, as they say, is history.”

While they spoke, Rosie wandered off to handle personal business; off camera, thankfully. When she finished, she came back and sat down primly to stare at her person. Kim knew what Rosie wanted, but thought it was worth asking her for the sake of the cameras, “Yes, Rosie, do you want something?”

“Kim, can I have a baggy?”

“This might be the most important thing to tell your viewers, Rebecca.” Kim reached into her game duffle and produced a small biodegradable bag for Rosie. “Neodogs are very loving and can do some wonderful things, but the best part is that they can clean up after themselves.”

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