A page of handwritten notes on lined, dirty refill paper. Headline: Teddy Bears. An illustration down one side shows a cute teddy bear in profile.
Body text: If you go down to the woods today, stay on your fucking toes. The number of people made into picnics by packs of these little buggers…
They’re undeniably cute, obviously made for precisely that purpose. They stand about knee-high to an adult, with pudgy little bodies, short limbs, soft fur and friendly little smiles… at first.
Probably the worst part is that they talk. Only a few basic phrases, which seem to be passed down as pack markers over the generations. It’s not communicative – they don’t actually have syntax or anything. They just repeat phrases they were taught, or programmed with, a long time ago.
“Be my fwiend!” and “Shawing is fun!” and “Let’s play!” and, worst of all, “I wuv you!”
Everything about them speaks abundantly of purpose. They were made as companions for children, perfect soft toys that could love you back, and say so in a sickly-sweet voice with a cute speech impediment.
I’m guessing they were still deeply embedded with the families who bought them, still snuggled up with young children, when the Turn came.
The meat is a little tough, good for stews. The fur is a prized trade good, though. Well designed.
Three illustrations: a smiling teddy bear face, a full-body illustration, and a snarling teddy bear face, showing sharp teeth.