29/05/15 The Genuine Duck

The mind transfer occurred, unchallenged by mystical powers. The brain of a fresh, tasty, newborn human child, surgically transplanted unto a duckling. A grown duck would never be capable of bearing such a burden within the confined recesses of its natural skull; as such the back of the head had been worked into an expandable, elastic design; as the duckling would grow, the brain would inflate the bag as if it were a balloon of helium.

“Will he be able to speak?” asked the mother while counting her many bank notes.

The scientist, Doctor Olof, threw the dead, mutilated corpse of the newborn infant child inside his meat freezer, as if it were a discarded wood log. He then replied:

“Yes, I will arrange for a small, integrated device to interpret his every thought into coherent vocalizations.”

“Will he be able to fly?” asked the mother, still counting her newfound treasure.

“At least until his brain becomes too heavy, yes. As a child we will definitely record plenty of beautiful, audience-captivating flights!”

“Will he be able to have his own children?”

“We very much look forward to that!”

“Will he be happy?”

“I can’t see why not.” replied a man who, as it turned out, would enjoy a destiny of incredible success and wealth.

The mother was eventually confident that the situation was normal - and unprosecutable against her - and left the room.

Doctor Olof would give the duckling a few days to recover from the operation, providing the creature with an appropriate cocktail of antibiotics, painkillers, immunosuppressants and - obviously - some pet store food. Then he would release it into its simulated environment, in which the duck would be made to experience whatever achieved popularity with the audience.

The Show Was Named “Duck Hut”.

…

MORNING

On the mornings, it appeared that Duck enjoyed staying in his little hut, reading the newspaper and eating breakfast. It was the period of the day with the lowest viewership. To make it more exciting, during the fourth season, they introduced a quippy salamander to be his new bunkmate. The salamander, not intelligent itself, was equipped with a secret speaker - as all other creatures in the habitat - so that it could engage in conversation with Duck. However, the arrangement did not last, as the salamander grew physically hostile and territorial.

Millions cried, as Salamander made his farewells to his dear, dear friend, moving away and becoming the very first president of the fledging democracy of Rombozia.

NOON

When he had been younger, the producers had the brilliant idea of making the show into an actual classroom experience, from which the kids at home could learn their subject matters along the growing Duck. Thanks to him, countless now had fond memories of learning their multiplication tables, as if they were sitting themselves in the classroom of Lady Lobster.

Every exoskeletal creature in the show was machine, as they appeared reasonably seamless: it included a variety of insects and crustaceans. Ants and spiders typically carried live cameras.

Duck’s body had been mature for virtually the entirety of his conscious life; yet his mind was human, and so it was that school occurred from age four to age fourteen - at which point his poor academic performance was deemed important enough to reorient the show.

Around season six, his brain had become too heavy of a load for his body, and at that time a plot line was resolved such that President Hamster was entrusted by the child to perform a surgery that would chain the brain balloon under an even larger helium balloon, taking off some of his burden. Millions laughed at his new appearance. They also cheered him when he told the Mayor, “Thank you for helping me!” - to which the Mayor replied, “This is what I am here for. Well, that, and LADY Hamster!”

In his old age, the producers tried to have him mate with other ducks - yet they were all scared away by his large, floppy balloons. At some crucial moment, Duck decided to shy away from pursuing his sexual needs; no longer expecting that he was a valid romantic option, he grew dark, agitated, and sedentary, rarely leaving his hut.

In season 17, they introduced a hen that had been stripped of her eyes - only to swiftly remove her from the show, having caused an outrage amongst animal welfare activists. After that “Herbivore Sophomore!” (Herbivore? so, [standing] for more!) became a common greeting in between the animals, popular with Duck himself. It was introduced in a desperate gambit to retain the audience.

AFTERNOON

The afternoon carried most plot elements: it was in the afternoon that Duck had been made to confront the hard, blue walls at the end of the world, and make peace with them. Mister Toad’s rhetorical arguments made short work of Duck’s curiosity. Most individual human on Earth was capable of naming at least one of his antics; he routinely lost objects in his possession; he played chess with those animals which happened to have telekinetic powers; he made friends, lost friends; during season eight he was hanging out with the “Red Team”, only to change side during season nine, after being betrayed by Cardinal Finch and postman Pigeon.

One time, using a chemistry set, he transformed dust into a potion of immortal life. Millions cried as Duck attempted to resurrect Bunny-the-kid as he once did Lady Lobster; to no avail. Only one of those rescues was staged, obviously; yet the failure worked to further alienate Duck from himself. Doctor Olof fought the other producers over “magic”, as he deemed the temporary boost in viewership to be less valuable than preserving the illusion of reality for as long as possible. He was ultimately found to be correct in his conclusions.

EVENING

The evening attracted a very distinct crowd: those whom, above all, enjoyed laughing at Duck’s expanse. Being that he was generally alone in his hut, resting yet conscious, he would usually speak to himself for hour upon hour, a consequence of being incapable of shutting off the machine that read and voiced his thoughts. He made very bizarre, personal statements, that he would have otherwise attempted to keep quiet if he had known these to be publicly available. Yet he did not know, and it was all the more intensely captivating to voyeurs of all persuasions.

NIGHT

Duck passed away at the ripe old age of twenty, partially as a consequence of the structural stress on his bones leading him to unhealthy inactivity, yet mostly because that was the normal extent of a duck’s life. Being that he was legally a citizen of the country in which the show was being filmed, his lifespan as well as his cause of death were available to regulators; yet Doctor Olof knew that the sample size was so minuscule that he could easily get away with multiple shows in a row before being stopped as a consequence of byzantine statistical studies. Then again, it was the reason why he ran only one show at a time.

The next Duck happened to be born a genius, cheated out of all capacity to realize his vast, immense, gigantic potential.