Post by Tobey on Sept 18, 2007 15:23:08 GMT -5
Dakota was in the living room, reading the newspaper that she had happened to find left out on the couch, still in the plastic covering that it had been delivered in. She hardly ever read the newspaper, but, for whatever reason, today, the need to know what was going on in the outside world was tugging at her mind. Not that she had ever really cared about current events, but staying cut off from the affairs of the world only contributed to the sense of isolation that, surely, all the residents of the House must feel to some extent. Of course, the dinosaur experiment had never really noticed this sense of isolation until right then, as she was picking up the newspaper, and saw the hard proof that an outside world existed; a world that she had left behind, but which still went on the same as before.
Anyway, she was standing, not quite tired enough and just a bit too restless to justify finding a comfortable place to recline, wandering a little back and forth to keep her legs from getting stiff, reading an article that had sort of idly captured her interest. It was a small article, towards the back of the newspaper, with a headline that read, "Human Distinction Act Passed in Response to Man Claiming Human Rights for Dog."
FRANKFORT, KY
Yesterday, the Kentucky legislature voted on a recently drafted bill known as the Human Distinction Act, whose main objective was to provide a legal definition for the term 'human.' The Act passed by a three-to-one vote, with about an even split between Democrat and Republican support. The original bill was drafted shortly after the trial of Meyers vs. Kentucky three weeks ago, wherein Fred Meyers asserted that his Jack Russell Terrier, Spike, was human and should be afforded human rights. In a rather embarrassing trial, the court proved unable to counter his obviously erroneous statement, and was forced to give the dog compensation for 'unequal treatment.' The Human Distinction Act was then drafted with the intention that there would be no such confusion in future human or animal rights cases.
The Human Distinction Act defines a human as "a living being that possesses the genetic identifiers EMR4, MYH16, and SIGLEC11." Since this definition was difficult to test at the time (indeed, genetic testing is somewhat expensive even today), another definition was included, defining a human as "a living being that possesses bodily hair that does not completely obscure the skin, that does not possess anything beyond a vestigial tail, that does not possess scales, feathers, an exoskeleton, or a mucous membrane, that possesses a maximum of two legs and two arms (excepting conjoined twins), that possesses plantigrade feet when feet are present, that is endothermic, that possesses a uniform tooth structure when teeth are present (canine teeth being of approximately the same length as molars and incisors), and that demonstrates a fundamentally bipedal, upright body design. Any of these traits that is changed by injury, documented birth defect, or cosmetic alteration becomes null and void." The latter has become the more commonly used definition, although the former is still considered more 'official.'
Dakota clutched suddenly at the paper in shock when the significance of this 'Human Distinction Act' suddenly hit her, her claws puncturing the thin sheet; thankfully through some less-important articles. Dakota read the article again, looking for some sort of footnote, /something/, that would say that none of it was true. That it was all some sort of myth, or urban legend, or that it hadn't actually passed. But there was no such note. "That's . . . that's impossible," she muttered, talking to herself. "That would mean . . . I'm not human? Surely there's been a mistake." In disbelief, she re-read the actual description of the law in the last paragraph. It was true. She, and probably about half the residents of the House, were not legally human! They /almost/ were. If not for the word 'cosmetic' in front of 'alteration,' they could have used the exception clause. But their alterations were anything but cosmetic, and could not conceivably be argued otherwise. "Just one word too many," Dakota growled out loud to herself. She fit at least four of the disqualifiers to be legally human. It was insane! The whole thing was just insane! But what could she do about it? Well, first she'd just wait a minute, so she could give herself time to get her thoughts in order. Make sure she wasn't jumping to any conclusions. No point in letting her emotions get the best of her, was there? Then, once she'd thought it all out rationally, she'd find someone to tell the news to, and maybe they'd know what to do. Taking a little comfort in this plan of action, she turned on the TV to help take her mind off the article for a minute. As she clicked through channel after channel of nothing interesting, she began to think about whether she would ever be able to adjust to the idea of not being legally human, and tried to judge whether her initial shock at the news had been an over-reaction or not. While the idea that so many experiments, herself included, were legally not human wasn't exactly reassuring, what did it really change? It wasn't really like the legal system knew who she was, anyway. So would it really ever make any real difference in her life, or would it have no consequence other than making the dinosaur experiment feel ill at ease? It was a tough question to ponder.
Anyway, she was standing, not quite tired enough and just a bit too restless to justify finding a comfortable place to recline, wandering a little back and forth to keep her legs from getting stiff, reading an article that had sort of idly captured her interest. It was a small article, towards the back of the newspaper, with a headline that read, "Human Distinction Act Passed in Response to Man Claiming Human Rights for Dog."
FRANKFORT, KY
Yesterday, the Kentucky legislature voted on a recently drafted bill known as the Human Distinction Act, whose main objective was to provide a legal definition for the term 'human.' The Act passed by a three-to-one vote, with about an even split between Democrat and Republican support. The original bill was drafted shortly after the trial of Meyers vs. Kentucky three weeks ago, wherein Fred Meyers asserted that his Jack Russell Terrier, Spike, was human and should be afforded human rights. In a rather embarrassing trial, the court proved unable to counter his obviously erroneous statement, and was forced to give the dog compensation for 'unequal treatment.' The Human Distinction Act was then drafted with the intention that there would be no such confusion in future human or animal rights cases.
The Human Distinction Act defines a human as "a living being that possesses the genetic identifiers EMR4, MYH16, and SIGLEC11." Since this definition was difficult to test at the time (indeed, genetic testing is somewhat expensive even today), another definition was included, defining a human as "a living being that possesses bodily hair that does not completely obscure the skin, that does not possess anything beyond a vestigial tail, that does not possess scales, feathers, an exoskeleton, or a mucous membrane, that possesses a maximum of two legs and two arms (excepting conjoined twins), that possesses plantigrade feet when feet are present, that is endothermic, that possesses a uniform tooth structure when teeth are present (canine teeth being of approximately the same length as molars and incisors), and that demonstrates a fundamentally bipedal, upright body design. Any of these traits that is changed by injury, documented birth defect, or cosmetic alteration becomes null and void." The latter has become the more commonly used definition, although the former is still considered more 'official.'
Dakota clutched suddenly at the paper in shock when the significance of this 'Human Distinction Act' suddenly hit her, her claws puncturing the thin sheet; thankfully through some less-important articles. Dakota read the article again, looking for some sort of footnote, /something/, that would say that none of it was true. That it was all some sort of myth, or urban legend, or that it hadn't actually passed. But there was no such note. "That's . . . that's impossible," she muttered, talking to herself. "That would mean . . . I'm not human? Surely there's been a mistake." In disbelief, she re-read the actual description of the law in the last paragraph. It was true. She, and probably about half the residents of the House, were not legally human! They /almost/ were. If not for the word 'cosmetic' in front of 'alteration,' they could have used the exception clause. But their alterations were anything but cosmetic, and could not conceivably be argued otherwise. "Just one word too many," Dakota growled out loud to herself. She fit at least four of the disqualifiers to be legally human. It was insane! The whole thing was just insane! But what could she do about it? Well, first she'd just wait a minute, so she could give herself time to get her thoughts in order. Make sure she wasn't jumping to any conclusions. No point in letting her emotions get the best of her, was there? Then, once she'd thought it all out rationally, she'd find someone to tell the news to, and maybe they'd know what to do. Taking a little comfort in this plan of action, she turned on the TV to help take her mind off the article for a minute. As she clicked through channel after channel of nothing interesting, she began to think about whether she would ever be able to adjust to the idea of not being legally human, and tried to judge whether her initial shock at the news had been an over-reaction or not. While the idea that so many experiments, herself included, were legally not human wasn't exactly reassuring, what did it really change? It wasn't really like the legal system knew who she was, anyway. So would it really ever make any real difference in her life, or would it have no consequence other than making the dinosaur experiment feel ill at ease? It was a tough question to ponder.