Mr Zhang's Dragon

Mr Zhang’s Dragon

I won’t bore you with the fine details of how the dragon came into this world because truth be told, I don’t understand how it happened. Something about splicing and genetic reorganisation, ostriches and pterodactyl DNA. What I did understand though, was that the boon to my company (BeiTech) would be incredible. Having found cures or preventions for many of the world’s most common conditions and illnesses, management and the highest-ups had turned their eye to the fanciful and the fantastic. And what could be more fantastic than a living, fire-breathing dragon? What better symbol of potency and power? How better to link the traditional Chinese culture with the hurtling pace of future scientific and technological advances?

I say my company. It was not my company. If anything, I belonged to it. I had worked at BeiTech for approaching 80 years, essentially as domestic staff. While my job includes some level of technical skill (having to stabilise and safely remove a variety of ill-advised ‘experiments’ leads to some innovative practice), it is without standing, prestige or perks. Working for BeiTech had been practically predetermined; some historic connection between my kin and the company’s founding family. I enjoyed my job though… Each day was different, and my needs are few so I lived easily within my less-than-startling salary.

This clutch of eggs was the fourth attempt. The first three had shown limited signs of development, but it was difficult to know how best to care for and incubate the eggs of a creature that had never existed before. It was my job to safely dispose of the unsuccessful eggs; icy cold by the time they came under my discretion, with brittle shells and malformed contents. Thirteen eggs made up the fourth clutch. Twelve went the same way as their predecessors, but a single egg flourished under specific circumstances, no doubt benefiting from the learning achieved on those that had come before.

A small, white dragon emerged mewling into the laboratory by April. She was roughly the size of a crocodile hatchling, and similar in shape too, apart from the translucent wings emerging from above her shoulders. Long and lithe, rows of needlepoint teeth and pupils which slitted severely as she focused on lights and movement. Her tail, although scaled like that of a crocodile, was prehensile, like that of a chameleon. She used it for balance and grip while exploring her limited confines, long before her wings ever unfurled.

The dragon was named Ruth, following a company-wide competition. The winner described her love of Science Fiction novels several hundred years old; a planet called Pern, a white dragon called Ruth, by an author named Anne.    

Ruth’s physical development was slow, it took two years for her to grow to the size of a small dog, and another two until she would have been able to look a small sheep in the eyes. Disappointingly, despite stretching and preening her wings regularly, she did not seem at all inclined to use them, other than for balance when dropping from a high platform to a lower one. There was also a distinct lack of fire-breathing. Nary a puff of smoke. The company leaders grew weary of the wait. Ruth was to be their beacon of progress; evidence of world-leading scientific abilities. While the creation of a brand-new species was not to be sniffed at, the fact she only stood knee-high to those that had created her resulted in something of an underwhelming first impression.

In those ensuing four years, progress had been made on developing the gene sequence, with improvements also gained in optimal conditions for nurturing the eggs. Biggers eggs were grown, bigger dragons were hatched and later clutches provided specimens of a golden hue, much more in keeping with the Chinese dragons from mythology. Ruth, though the first of her kind, was quietly but definitively overlooked. By the 6^th anniversary of her hatching, she had not grown any taller at the shoulders (although admittedly she had filled out and could no longer be considered scrawny) and she steadfastly refused to so much as beat her wings, let alone take flight. Meanwhile her genetic siblings were sailing the air currents when allowed out to their netted enclosures. No belching of flames as yet, but the scientists had schemes with smoke in mind.

Aged 109, my retirement loomed. I looked forward to being able to spend my final few decades at home, lounging in the sun and tending to my small plot of land. It was not big enough that I could be self-sufficient, but there was enough of a variety of fruit and vegetables that I can supplement my diet on a daily basis, if not substitute shop-bought produce entirely. Ruth, meanwhile, was now nearly ten years old but appeared much older. Despite BeiTech’s proclivity for preventing and curing human diseases, again, it has hard to know how best to nurture and prevent the aging of a previously unknown species. Ruth’s suffering provided valuable data for future clutches, but I suspect that was of little comfort to the dragon herself. She appeared stiff while moving around, frequently turned down her meals (and looked scrawny again) and spent many long hours lying still in the sunshine, seemingly trying to thermoregulate but gaining little more than the energy to shuffle slowly back to her den.

Ruth was a docile creature, having shown no aggression in her short life, nor excitement or pleasure. I don’t know how an entirely new breed of reptile might be expected to show pleasure though… I may be thinking of a Labrador. In short, she was deemed little bother to care for, and with her newest siblings garnering all the attention, little thought was given to improving her conditions (or her condition).

Retirement day was finally here. With a mixture of trepidation and elation I laid down my tools for the final time. I did not expect a ‘do’; domestic staff were not recognised and the end of their career was little cause for celebration. In truth, I did not need ‘a do’, I needed to figure out what ‘to do’ all day. I was therefore surprised when five minutes before leaving, I was invited to the main atrium of the genetic research building, where a small group of people were gathered, looking expectant.

“Mr Zhang! In honour of your hard work…” The company director’s words trailed off as some commotion occurred behind one of the nearby closed doors. A noise like an emu in tremendous distress could be heard. The door opened, and there appeared one of Ruth’s handler’s, trying to drag her by an ill-fitting harness that wrapped around her lithe neck and under her forearms. Eventually, the handler picked Ruth up, which only increased her keening and caused her to thrash her prehensile tail. The handler would have a bruised back and legs in the morning.

“Mr Zhang! In honour of your hard work in BeiTech over the last 80 years, we are thrilled to gift you the dragon Ruth, the first of her kind and…. The CEO spoke on, but I had stopped hearing the words. A dragon? What was I to do with a dragon?! Her speech was short and it was not long before I was left holding the leash of Ruth. The dragon. I coughed as the small crowd bustled away – an act of impertinence I would never have considered previously. But, they could not un-retire me…

“How exactly am I to get Ruth home?” I queried.

“Well’, responded the CEO, how do your normally get home?”

“Bicycle”’, said I.

“We will arrange transport” said she.

Getting Ruth to my plot was only the beginning of a long list of practicalities that needed to be considered. Where would she sleep? What would I feed her? How would I contain her? Care for her? What if she became sick? Or aggressive?

Solving these issues, as it happened, gave an unexpected purpose to my retiral. My plot of land amounted to about two thirds of an acre, roughly square in shape. Ruth does not appear to have any desire to leave the boundaries of my land, once she understood the confines and what is ‘her’ area. Neither is she territorial though… I watch her closely for any signs of attacking or threatening behaviour, be that with people or other animals. While keeping a close eye on those that are unfamiliar, she seems otherwise unperturbed. Just as well as foot traffic to my house has increased significantly, as visitors marvel at the specimen cast aside by BeiTech in favour of her much more illustrious brother and sisters.

Ruth sleeps on a mezzanine level, built into the upper space of house. We experimented with various forms of bedding, but she seems to rest most easily when provided with straw and small branches that she can rearrange at will. The mezzanine faces direct sunlight all day, and maintains its warmth overnight. Food took longer to figure out. At the company, Ruth had been fed small processed cubes of something or other, apparently without odour or taste. Again, experimentation was key here and Ruth, while interested in trying most foods, vomited much back up. We eventually settled on a largely carnivorous diet, with a preference for lean white meat. While Ruth appears to much prefer her meals still, cold and in a bucket, it gives me much amusement to watch her pursue live chickens and turkeys around the yard. Despite her initial misgivings about a live diet, Ruth has become more spry and sprightly than ever observed in the compound. True, she still basks for most of the day, but she will also occasionally help with my pest problem, snapping giant grasshoppers out of the air.

Ruth is a most curious pet. She shows no affection, like a dog. She does not appreciate being petted, like a cat (although she does appear to appreciate a good rub down with olive oil to soften particularly scaly skin and suffocate the mites that gather within her folds, leaning into the pressure and keening so gently it almost cannot be heard). She takes part in no sports, like a horse, and she is no guard animal, like a goose. But Ruth does provide purpose. And companionship, to some extent. My modest goal in my remaining years is to improve her quality of life, without having any real understanding of how long she might live and how good an existence she might be capable of. Given that there is no public information on how best to care for a dragon, trial and error fill our days.   

As I write this now, Ruth is keeping a watchful eye from her platform above. She seems content, but how would I know, truly? I am content though. And I could ask for little more.